A/N: Hi everyone; I would like to apologize for the hiatus. I was hoping to get a good number of chapters up during summer break (from college), but once again life and medical problems got in my way. But I would like to have you know that I have been working on this chapter for quite a while, trying to get it just right (I still may do a little more editing). This chapter may be a little short.

It was past midnight; everyone had gone to find a place to sleep, except for Scrooge. Granted, he was exhausted, but he refused to let sleep get a hold of him. Doctors, as well as his family, had tried to get him to go home and rest, but he refused; he was afraid something might happen to Louie the second he closed his eyes, let alone left the room. Within the last couple of hours, the pressure in Louie's brain had increased to 37 while his blood pressure fluctuated between 80 and 81. He was also running a low-grade fever.

Scrooge sat next to his unconscious nephew, stroking the boy's cheek with one hand and holding his hand with the other. He squeezed it gently, hoping it would get him to whimper or flinch or something, but Louie showed no sign of life whatsoever. Scrooge couldn't cry anymore; all his tears were gone. He was still beating himself up for even letting Della into the house, only for her to take the boys away from him—and under false pretenses no less; that had to be against the law.

He couldn't imagine what it'd be like without even one of the kids there; he loved the moments when they would burst into his room on the weekends and tackle him just to say, 'good morning'. He remembers, sometime before Mrs. Beakley and Webby moved in, the boys were high on sugar and (almost) literally bouncing off the walls; it was like there were six of them instead of three! They had worn out Duckworth with their rowdiness, but Scrooge had somehow managed to capture them with ease. Thank goodness that sugar crash set in!

Scrooge spoke softly to his grandnephew, but he knew that the boy probably couldn't hear him. He kept looking at the heart monitor, hoping that it didn't flatline. The machines were doing everything they could to keep Louie alive, but right now, the chances were looking slim.

"Uncle Scrooge?"

A voice snapped Scrooge out of his thoughts; Donald entered the room.

"What're you doing up?" Scrooge asked him.

"I should be asking you that," Donald said, taking a seat next to his uncle.

Scrooge deserved that one. "I can't sleep, Donald," he sighed. "I'm too scared to, plus I'm still kicking myself".

"For what?" Donald wanted to know. "You did nothing wrong".

"I didn't protect them," Scrooge confessed. "I should've suspected something when I saw those bruises, but every time I asked if they were OK—"

"They would tell you they were," Donald finished.

"How'd you know?" Scrooge asked.

"I've been through the same thing," answered Donald.

Scrooge sighed. "I just want Louie to make it through this," he said.

"He will, it'll just take some time," encouraged Donald. "But however long it takes, you can't go that long with no sleep".

"I know," Scrooge agreed, "I'm just afraid that—if I close my eyes or leave the room, even for a second, Louie might—" he couldn't bring himself to say the word; it made him mentally shudder.

"Uncle Scrooge," Donald grabbed his uncle by the shoulders, looking at him straight in the eyes, "that's not going to happen".

"How do you know?" Scrooge asked, tears finding their way to his eyes again. Donald seemed so confident.

"Louie's been through this before," Donald answered. "It wasn't this deep, but he still made it through. He's a strong kid".

When Scrooge didn't answer, Donald pulled him into a hug to comfort him. The tears that wouldn't come before were flowing now; Scrooge never felt guiltier in his life.

Donald broke the hug. "Get some rest, Uncle Scrooge," he said, "please".

Scrooge sighed, nodding. "Alright," he replied, "alright, I'll try".

Donald patted his uncle on the shoulder and turned to leave the room; before he left, he watched as Scrooge sat back down next to Louie and grabbed his hand. Sighing, he left the room.

Donald met up with the rest of the family.

"Donald are you OK?" Grandma asked. She had come earlier that evening, along with Donald's girlfriend Daisy. Daisy had insisted on coming, despite Donald's wishes. It wasn't that he didn't want her to; but she was three months pregnant with their baby and he didn't want her putting stress on herself.

"Donald, those boys are as much my nephews as they are yours," Daisy had said when he called her earlier. "I'm coming".

Donald sighed as he sat back down next to Daisy. "I'm fine," he replied, "it's Uncle Scrooge that I'm worried about".

"How's he doing?" asked Grandma.

"He's a wreck. He won't even sleep," answered Donald.

"But Louie's not here because of him," Daisy pointed out.

"I told him that," Donald said, "but he still thinks it's his fault. If it's anybody's fault it's mine. I never told him how dangerous Della was".

"Well we can't point fingers right now," spoke Grandma. "We need to focus on getting Louie better".

A/N: As some of you may have noticed, I haven't titled many of my chapters. I'm not good with titles; but any ideas would be appreciated. Thanks in advance.