Author's Note: For those few of you who read Bad Touch, this is for you. This is the sequel and I need to figure out where I'm going with it, but the next few chapters are solid.

This is one of the few instances where the rating on the previous fic is actually higher than the sequel.

A quick rundown of what happened in BT—Mrs. Beakley dies and in her grief Webby runs out of the mansion, an evil OC gang of mine finds her and rapes her at gunpoint, Magica decides to take revenge on Lena and Webby (this was written pre-season finale, back when everyone thought Lena really was Magica's niece) and teams up with the Bloodhound Gang (said OCs), and in her haste to prevent another rape, Webby kills the Bloodhound Gang leader.

Chapter One: Your Star

This time, Lena was positive Webby was trying to drown herself in the shower. She'd hardly spoken on the ride home and the triplets were a little wary of her. Or they were in awe. Lena wasn't quite sure; it wasn't like they were talkative either.

Lena knocked on the bathroom door; Webby had been in there for a half hour by now. Even considering she looked like she'd been dunked in blood, she had to have gotten it all out of her feathers and hair by now. When Lena knocked again, there was still no response.

"Webby?" she called.

She tried the door and found it unlocked. Webby hadn't been showering. She was sitting, huddled in a ball, on the floor of the bathtub against the wall, and hugging her knees. Red encircled the drain and Webby was still wearing her blood-soaked clothes. She hadn't made any effort to clean herself. Then again, the younger girl seemed to be in a state of shock. She looked up at Lena.

"I didn't mean to…" she whispered, and her eyes brimmed with tears.

"You acted in self-defense," Lena replied. "It wasn't your fault."

"I just...I wanted him to stop...I couldn't take the idea of it...happening again...so I lashed out and…" Webby swallowed hard. She gasped back a sob and Lena sat on the floor beside the tub. The water splashed down on both of them, although it had already drenched Webby.

"You didn't kill him on purpose," Lena soothed, feeling out of her depth. She wished Scrooge would show up and talk to Webby. Regardless of how she felt about the older man, he had to have experienced something similar or had more worldly wisdom than Lena. Lena was still a child.

"He was going to...he was going to…" Webby's throat constricted and she placed her head on her knees. Lena remembered the way the leader's hands had inched Webby's skirt upward and swallowed rage. Regardless of how Magica had tried to twist the situation, it had been self-defense. Webby had every right to prevent another assault.

"I know," Lena said softly and teased the bow out of Webby's hair so she could run her fingers through the girl's sodden locks. Webby shuddered at the touch.

"Granny taught me how to defend myself and I knew all the steps, but…"

There was a difference between practice and execution. Lena said nothing, continuing to stroke Webby's hair. The younger girl whimpered; she had new horrors to add to her existing nightmares. They were silent for a while, Lena ignoring the water pouring down on both of them and Webby insensible to it. Time passed, though Lena was uncertain how much. She just knew that when someone knocked at the open door, they both startled, Webby staring accusingly. Lena tensed too, hand on Webby's shoulder and squeezing.

It was only the triplets. Webby relaxed minutely, although Lena remained on guard. Her hand fell from Webby's shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Huey asked, frowning. "You've been in here for almost an hour."

"And who takes a shower with their clothes on?" Dewey said, frowning. They edged their way into the now crowded bathroom. Lena scooted to make room and Huey leaned over to shut off the water. Webby's gaze dropped and she was staring at the bathtub drain like it held all the secrets of the universe. Lena's heart twisted.

"There was so much blood," Webby whispered. "It's everywhere…"

The triplets shared uncomfortable looks and Dewey perched on the edge of the tub nearest Webby.

"Yeah, that happens…" he said, frowning. "When you, you know…"

Dewey seemed unwilling to complete that sentence. All of them could see Webby in their mind's eye seizing the knife and plunging it into the leader's chest. A dispassionate part of Lena realized there might've been splinters on the knife when Webby had attacked him and those same splinters had lodged into his heart. She was disturbed at how she could think that without wincing. Aunt Magica would've come to the same conclusion-not that Lena should be disturbed, but that Webby might've expedited the man's death by introducing foreign contaminants.

"I didn't mean to!" Webby burst out, indignant and shaking. She bit her lower lip and tears brimmed in her eyes. "It was muscle memory!"

"It was self-defense," Huey corrected, repeating what Lena had said fifteen minutes earlier. "They were going to hurt you, so you protected yourself. It's not your fault."

Webby spoke to the drain instead of them. "I've never killed anyone before."

"There's a first time for everything," Louie said, and Huey, Dewey, and Lena shot him dirty looks. Louie ignored them and looked surprised at himself; this was his way of coping with the situation, by trying to play it off.

"You were protecting yourself," Huey repeated. "C'mon. You need to change and get into some dry clothes."

Webby didn't budge, still hugging her knees and staring, disconcerted, at the drain. Lena scooped Webby up and ignored the water splattering all over her clothes. She and the triplets walked toward Webby's room, where they proceeded to leave her to get changed after putting a towel down for her to sit on. Lena dried her off as best she could with another towel, all the while aware of her clothes dripping onto the one they'd set on the bed. Webby didn't move from the towel and continued staring, wide-eyed and quivering, at the walls.

"Hey," Lena said quietly. She sat beside her. She couldn't pretend to know what was going through Webby's head right now, but she could make an educated guess. Webby's fist balled and jabbed out, repeating that fateful gesture.

Magica's strangulation marks still stood out livid on Webby's neck and Lena brushed her fingers against her throat. Webby flinched and Lena did too.

"I thought you were all about touch?" Lena said, concealing her hurt at being rebuffed. "You're always asking for hugs and jumping on me."

"Webby?" she prompted when the girl said nothing. "Webs?"

It was the boys' nickname for her and it felt awkward in Lena's mouth. She didn't want to undress her and change her; that was a job for-Lena's jaw tightened and she felt a lump in her throat. It was a job for Mrs. Beakley, Webby's grandmother. And if Lena hadn't inserted herself into Webby's life courtesy of Magica, none of this would've happened. Webby would still have her grandmother and someone to soothe away the girl's fears. Lena felt extraneous, but, worse than that, she felt malignant, like a cancerous growth on the McDuck family.

Webby looked up and Lena almost felt like she could fall into her eyes. They were deep, fathomless, and welled with so much lacerating pain that Lena almost felt like it was branded on her soul. This was her doing. Nothing Lena had done could compensate for the trauma she'd inflicted on Webby, both by her own actions and by Magica's hand.

What she should do, though the idea wrenched at her heart, was leave Webby alone. Forever. Maybe then the girl could pick up the shattered pieces of her life. Lena's throat tightened, and she hung her head. Webby was the best thing that had ever happened to Lena. And Lena was the worst thing that had ever crashed into Webby's life.

She would stay and help Webby change and then she would leave, pack her bags, and disappear. It was what she was good at. She'd done it all of her life. She'd never had friends before Webby and there was a reason. She was toxic.

Webby didn't protest when Lena helped her undress; the older girl being careful not to look at her too closely. The cut on her chest had scabbed over and Lena helped her find clean, dry clothes to replace the mess she'd been wearing. She dumped them in the trash once Webby had changed and clenched her hand around Webby's bow. Somehow, she'd forgotten she was carrying it.

"I love you," Lena murmured, "but I can't be around you anymore. I'm a wrecking ball on your life, Webby. Don't-don't come looking for me."

She kissed her on the forehead, swallowed the lump in her throat, and headed for the door. Removing the friendship bracelet from her wrist, she placed it around Webby's wrist where it belonged. Webby reached out for her.

"Lena?" Webby whispered and it took every ounce of Lena's willpower to push her away, walk out, and shut the door behind her. Her time being possessed by Magica had at least taught her how to exit the manor without using the main entrance and she slipped away, running when she couldn't stand walking anymore. Tears blinded her vision and she told herself that this was for the best. Webby didn't need any more complications. Regardless, Lena couldn't bring herself to release Webby's hair ribbon. She told herself that this was all she would let herself keep of her.

She jumped out a window on the second floor, slid down the roof to the first, and then used a tree to land, unscathed, on the ground. Lena cast one last, desperate glance up at McDuck Manor and then bolted, feeling like her heart was breaking with every step she took.

Scrooge popped in on Webby fifteen minutes later and found the girl lying on her back and staring at the ceiling.

"Lass?" he ventured and Webby's gaze was tear-streaked as she lifted her head to regard him. "I thought maybe, after what happened, you might wanna get someone to look at you. So, I called a doctor."

Webby didn't bring up the fact that Scrooge hadn't done that the last time. It didn't seem pertinent. Moreover, she'd been looked after eventually, so it wasn't a big deal. At the time, she hadn't wanted to be touched by anyone. And now...her throat tightened. Lena's goodbye had seemed so final.

"Lass?" he said. Webby rolled over onto her side. She should've stopped her. Lena thought that everything that had befallen Webby was her fault and, okay, she'd introduced Magica into her life, but that didn't mean Lena had meant for any of this to transpire. Lena hadn't attacked her grandmother. Lena hadn't sent the Bloodhound Gang after her twice and then prompted Webby to murder their leader. Lena had pleaded with Magica to leave them alone and Magica hadn't listened. The generations-old feud between de Spell and McDuck had erased any chance of reconciliation.

Scrooge sighed. "I'll send him in."

Webby barely paid attention to the doctor examining her. He pronounced her in a state of shock, which Webby had already known, and she tried not to scoff. Any quack could've told him that. She fingered the bracelet Lena had returned to her and fought conflicting ideas in her head. When she had the energy for it, she needed to locate Lena, provided the girl hadn't left Duckberg. Of course, she'd put herself in danger again by venturing out on her own. She'd need to tell the others.

By contrast, if she stayed here, she'd be safe, but she'd lose Lena, possibly forever. Losing Lena forever was unbearable. It felt like she'd just found her again, after the fight with Magica. Webby swallowed back tears.

Scrooge and the doctor seemed to have reached a consensus because Scrooge tucked her in. She sat upright, thrusting the blankets aside.

"I need...need to find Lena…" she whispered.

"Lass, you're in no condition to go anywhere," he refuted. "You're staying right here, where everyone can keep an eye on you."

"You don't understand," she protested. "Lena left."

"She'll be back. You need to get some rest," he soothed.

"No, she won't!" she said, heat suffusing her chest and eliminating some of the strange ice that had formed there. The outrage was working its way through her shock.

"She blames herself for what happened to me. She won't come back."

"Why would she…" he stopped.

"Because you blamed her too, didn't you?" she whispered.

Scrooge stepped outside for a minute, shut the door, and uttered what sounded to Webby like a muffled curse. He re-entered, straightened his suit out (she noticed he'd changed since they'd come home), and frowned at her.

"I'll find her," he vowed.

Webby's hope died. He'd find her like he'd found the Bloodhound Gang before. So far, Scrooge was zero for one. It wasn't that she didn't have confidence in him, it was that the de Spells were good at hiding when they didn't want to be found. And Webby doubted that Lena wanted to be located, ever again.