Dewey always reminded Donald of Della. Sometimes so much it would hurt.

From his early first steps, when he would always find the most dangerous corner of the houseboat to explore, never resting to sit down or crawl like his brothers. He was the first of the three to walk. And soon his walking turned to running! It was a wonder he hadn't fallen into the sea!

Donald of course couldn't remember it, but his parents would often say how Della stood up on her feet much sooner than him. By the time Donald finally managed to stand up, she was already running around the house. Adventure was always in her mind, she just couldn't stand still, not even for a moment. Dewey got that from her.

And every time Donald had prepared pizza for the boys, cake or anything fancy, he would look at Dewey's blown-away, excited expression and he would see Della in his eyes. She was always so enthusiastic about small and unimportant stuff, and that frequently annoyed her twin brother. But now that he saw the same reaction in Dewey, Donald wasn't annoyed at all. But he felt rather nostalgic. And maybe sad.

"But uncle Donald, I don't want to sleep!"

Huey was sleeping peacefully and Louie was snoring, half his body out of the bed.

But Dewey of course was full of adrenaline. How was that even possible? He was running around and acting like a maniac all day, shouldn't he be the most tired of them all?

"Why should I go to bed when I could do so much other interesting stuff instead?"

Donald made an effort not to smile. That was so Della.

He still remembered the long nights when they shared their room and she just wouldn't shut up instead of sleeping! She would talk to him about her day, about something she read, about something she learnt from the Junior Woodchucks, about anything! It didn't matter what the subject was, she just did it for the sake of staying awake.

Most times Donald pretended he was listening, when he had actually fallen asleep. But there were nights that Della could be so loud that putting his head under the pillow couldn't help him at all.

"Stop talking! I want to sleep!"

"Of course you would. You lazy dummy!"

And then she would jump on his bed. Sleeping was impossible.

Donald still had a very serious problem of sleep deprivation, but he really missed having his sister to wake him up ten times in the middle of the night.

He could still wake up, under the impression that she had spoken to him really loud, only to find out that he wasn't in their old bedroom, but on the hammock of his houseboat. And Della wasn't there. It was just a dream.

"Oh, Dewey... Everyone needs some rest" Donald would tuck him in with a gentle kiss on his forehead. The lullaby usually helped him sleep.

He could see Della in him when he tried some new food he didn't like, or when he made him eat broccoli.

"Bliah! That's gross! Worst taste ever!"

Della would say that all the time.

They were just so alike! Their thirst for adventure, their obsession with karaoke nights, their antagonism in board games... Pretty much everything!

And now Della was here.

And Donald had never seen Dewey happier.

They connected immediately. They didn't even have to try. Della would always take him with her on adventures with the Sunchaser, while Huey had a meeting with the Junior Woodchucks and Louie was watching an all-day TV marathon of Ottoman Empire.

Their common interests made it so easy and natural for them to bond, that each day Dewey was coming closer and closer to Della.

And further away from Donald.

No, of course Donald didn't mind! She was his mother after all! They deserved this. It felt as if Dewey had finally found a missing piece of his. Donald was just happy that Dewey was happy.

Well, the mid-triplet was always known to be excited with new things and situations and then get bored almost immediately. Whenever he had a new toy when he was smaller, he would play with it and be obsessed all day, and the following day he would toss it aside and forget it even existed.

Not that Donald wanted his nephew to toss his mother aside! He was genuinely glad that the two of them got along. But he also missed him a bit. And maybe soon enough Dewey would stop spending 24/7 with Della and let him be a part of his life again.

With Huey he didn't have that problem.

That kid had always been a younger version of him, and it was him of the three who had the softest spot for him.

After the moonvasion, while everyone was gathered around Della, Huey was the only one sitting with Donald, mainly asking him technical stuff about how he survived on that island.

And of course he would make small gestures to show his appreciation, like cooking for him or dropping by the houseboat and helping him out with some chores.

"Uncle Donald, can you help me with math? I don't get this… thing!"

Della was better at math. She would often brag about it. She even offered to help them study.

But Huey still went to him. Donald knew that sometimes Huey didn't need any help. But he came anyway. They were having a nice time together.

Whenever he returned from a Junior Woodchuck meeting he would run to Donald and share his excitement about what he had learned that day. Sure, Della was once a Junior Woodchuck and could understand him and share his passion better, but Donald was glad that this habit Huey had wouldn't change.

Louie on the hand...

He had changed notably during those six months. It was clear that Della's return affected him a great deal.

But there were also some things that would never change.

Like his need for hugs. Never in public! Absolutely not in front of others! But when the night came and his brothers were fast asleep, he would sneak out of their bedroom and carry his pillow all the way to Donald's room in the houseboat. Of course he returned to his own bed before dawn, so no one could notice him.

Louie loved cuddles, even though he would never admit it.

Well, Donald loved them too! Huey and Dewey were starting to drift away from anything physical, but Louie's hugs were still the tightest and most frequent.

"I missed you so much, uncle Donald!" he whispered in tears one night when he slept on his bed.

"Oh, poor Louie!" exclaimed his uncle and drew him closer. "I missed you too. Don't cry, everything's alright now. I'm back".

"It was all very difficult while you were gone!" the duck buried his face in Donald's chest. "Mom was very harsh and no one stood up for me! And- and… if you had been there, I wouldn't have felt so lonely!"

"It's alright, honey, we've talked about this" he cupped his cheeks and smiled at him. "Mom is trying. And I am here".

"Take me with you wherever you go, okay? You promise?" his eyes, still red, begged him.

"Promise" Donald said.

They both slept very peacefully that night.

Donald opened his eyes in the morning, but his nephew wasn't there.

"Classic Louie!" he thought.

He had gotten used to it. He would wake up in the morning and Louie would be gone.

But many times he would also wake up in the middle of the night and find him fast asleep right next to him.

Dewey was never there. Not at day, neither at night.

Donald couldn't remember when it was the last time Dewey had stepped on the houseboat.

"It's okay, Donald!" he thought to himself. "Let him spend some time with his mother. You don't have to chase him! He'll come to you. Eventually. Hopefully".

But the days passed. Weeks passed and… Nothing.

"That's just disrespectful of him! I raised him, I changed his diapers, I chased him all around the house to put him in the bathtub and I made him soups when he was sick! And now he doesn't even have the courtesy to talk to me? That boy is in big trouble!"

"May I ask which one of the three this time?"

Donald turned around. Turns out miss Beakley had heard every single word.

"Dewey" he replied, trying hard to keep his nerves under control.

"Oh, and I thought you found out about Louie's plastic lobster".

"About what?" he asked surprised.

"Nothing. Ignore what I just said. What's the deal with Dewey? As far as I know, he hasn't done anything wrong. No pranks, no breaking valuable items… He's always around Della. Sticking to her like a magnet".

Donald didn't say anything. He unfolded his arms, lowered his look at the floor and let out a small sigh.

"That's the problem, isn't it?" Beakley asked with a sympathetic tone in her voice.

"I don't want to seem selfish, but I'm here too! I missed him, Mrs. Beakley. I think he doesn't need me anymore. He's got his mom and I'm out of the picture. I was just a temporary inconvenience he had to put up with until Della came back".

"Oh, come on, Donald! Pull yourself together! That's not true, Dewey still sees you as his parent".

"It would be nice if I got to actually hear it from him".

"You will, if you two sit down and talk. Releasing your anger on him will not help either of you. Calm down and find a way to approach him".

Mrs. Beakley was right.

If Dewey and Della were indeed so much alike, then quarrelling would lead them nowhere.

Donald had to remember the times when he and Della had an argument.

Whenever the twins discussed peacefully and explained their problems instead of just screaming at each other, they would always make up in the end.

Donald was determined to do the same thing with Dewey.

Dewey always reminded Donald of Della. Sometimes so much it would hurt.