#(side ordering of louie dewy and launchpad too)

[drawingducktalesducks]

ooooh i wrote a thing, aaah here it is. weblena. au. slice of life, humor, slight angst, thought exercise, what-if, same rating as show

There are no Terrafermians in the subway.

(not that that'll stop them)

The tunnel doesn’t collapse. Beakley never fidgets with her glasses, adjusting them like a TV antennae as if that would change the image of Lena, quintessential sullen teen, helpfully applying a crowbar to the train cars’ stuck pin.

This just before the train crash.

Before the unconsciousness, the feeling of being dragged across a rough stone floor.

Before Beakly wakes up to see Lena’s wide, terrified eyes, and feel hands yank her out from under the falling train car not a second too soon.

"You-?" "Yeah- me. Let's go."

There’s no moment of tearful reuniting with Webby, the boys, and Launchpad. No anxious voice in the dark, Lena’s voice, checking in-

"Everyone here, everyone okay-?"   

There are no Terrafermians in the subway.

There is no moment of Beakley inviting Webby's new friend over for pancakes.

Instead, there's only a slow trudge up out of the tunnels, and the grim look on Beakley’s face as she marches them all back onto the street.

-

“Granny-”

"No."

"Granny, just listen!"

Webby starts again, journal of theories forgotten in her hands, grip so tight the binding squeaks in protest.

“You don’t understand! Lena’s a good person- she just LOOKS like a mysterious, enticing, rebellious teen ne’er-do-well with a love of trespassing and vandalism! Which she is, actually."

Webby admits with a thoughtful head tilt.

"And she does. Do that. She did it just a second ago, to prank Huey with me, and it was really funny!" Beakley's scowl deeps and Webby hurries on. "But she's also-!”

“First the Beagle Boys birthday,” Beakley mutters, steering Webby on with a firm hand. “You insisted that was an accident and that she never intended to put you in harm’s way.”

“She didn’t! She-”

“And I was almost willing to believe it. Almost."

Beakley storms down the sidewalk, sensible low heels clacking on the pavement with a sound so sharp it should've been sending up sparks.

"After all, what teen hasn’t done something immensely foolish to impress someone else, only to regret it afterwards? Likewise, lying about the ‘educational’ Mole Monster film. Mostly harmless, if irritatingly irresponsible. But this.”

The hand on Webby’s shoulder tightens.

“This goes too far. She knew entering that tunnel could put all three of you in danger. There were warning signs everywhere, and yet she led you down there regardless! No, I'm sorry." Beakely shakes her head, glowering behind her square framed glasses. "That girl does NOT have your best interests at heart.”

Currently Webby’s heart is pounding in her chest. “I’ve been in worse danger before! Much, much worse!”

“Only with myself or Mr. McDuck supervising you.”

“I had Lena with me!”

Beakley snorts. “Oh yes, how reassuring. I’m sure she would have done everything in her power to keep you safe, and not run off to save her own skin. Again.”

At that the boys trailing behind them finally speak up.

“I mean to be fair, it was us she wanted to feed to the Tumblebums that one time, not Webby.”

“Yeah, her and Webby were supposed to slip off together while we got traumatized. Then my dear brothers decided to use me as bait instead, which, I feel, is obviously worse-"

“She just wanted to stop us arguing!”

Huey’s feet patter as he hurries to catch up.

“It’s my fault too, for getting all worked up and angry over some made up subterranean monsters- that’s why she got the idea of going down there in the first place! She was trying to help!”

“By putting you all in danger, as opposed to debating the issue safely above ground, obviously.” Beakley remarks dryly.

“And and AND!” Webby jumps in craning to peer pleadingly up at her grandmother. “We could’ve said no! She wasn’t going to force us down there or anything!”

“Well.” Huey hedges, hunching down, awkwardly honest. “She did throw my guidebook down the stairs…”

Webby stamps on his insole. Huey yelps.

Ducking out from under the protective hand of her grandmother Webby turns to face Beakley, forcing them all to a stop.

“Granny, please.”

Somewhere nearby there’s the sound of four people knocking into each other and tumbling to the sidewalk.

Webby ignores it. Taking a deep breath she says, softly. “...She’s my best friend.”

Bentina Beakley looks down at her, posture tired, eyes sad.

She sighs.

“… no, Webbigail. Not anymore.”

And the whole world falls out from under Webby’s feet.

“Yes she- yes she is!” Stammering, Webby tries to hear herself over the thundering in her chest. “She is and nothing you say is going to change that! Right Lena!?”

No one answers.

Webby looks around. “Lena?”

Launchpad, Huey, Louie, and Dewy stare back at her from under a nearby street lamp. The shadows around them are empty. No one else is there.

Lena is gone.

“Good riddance,” Beakley says, her hand settling back on Webby’s shoulder. “You are not to see her again, even if she does reappear, understand? You four are all good children with bright futures ahead of you-”

“Five, missus B.”

Beakley rolls her eyes. “Yes alright Launchpad, you five. The last sort of friend any of you need is someone like that.”

Weak-kneed, the weight of her Granny’s hand makes Webby sag.

Someone like that. Someone like that…

The words echo the rest of the way to the car and all through the long, silent drive back home.

It continues as they trudge through the double doors of McDuck manor, as Beakely hesitates on the landing outside the library and Webby's room, as Webby walks past her to brush her beak and heads back to the loft, quietly shutting the trap door behind her.  

Webby doesn't sleep.

Later, long after her Granny has given up on patrols for the night, a climbing rope dangles its way down from Webby’s window.

Webby has somewhere to be.

Tonight, she has something more important to think about than her Granny’s rules.

Rushed tracks lead down the sandy beach towards a set of stepping stones, and a derelict, empty stage....

-

This time Webby leaps the stones with a single long jump.

"Lena, are you here?!"

Frantic, she doesn’t even bother with a summersault as she thumps down on the moldering floorboards, eyes darting hopefully at every shadow.  

“Lena? Lena!”

The cavernous stands make her already loud voice even louder. Webby waits one breathless moment, then rushes on.

“Please be here, please be here, I don’t know where else to look for you if you’re not here!”

Blurring across the stage Webby yanks back the tattered curtain and races behind the leaning and broken stone columns, checking every corner, chanting all the while.

“And also please please don’t be mad! I’m sorry I didn’t say more to my Granny, and sooner, and better. But most of all please be here! Please?”  

There’s no one behind the curtain or columns. No sounds answer her, except her own panicked voice.

Slowly, Webby comes to a stop at the edge of the stage.

“…Lena?”

'Lena?' echoes back the amphitheater, hollow and abandoned.

She stands there a long time. Listening. But just like on the playground, and just like on the street that night, the dark corners of the world stay empty.

And Lena doesn’t answer.  

Knees wobble. Webby sits down hard on the old theater floorboards.

“Oh.” Pulling her legs up to her chest she tucks her bill against them, eyes filling as she starts rocking herself slowly back and forth, back and forth. “Okay. Okay. You’re not here right now. That’s okay.”

Lena doesn’t answer.

Webby shudders. “No. It’s not okay.” The tears spills over. “It’s not okay. It’s not okay.”

She blinks hard, still staring out into the stands.

“You- you didn’t even wait to hear me tell Granny she’s wrong about you.”

A whimper.

“We didn’t even get, to say goodbye…”

Burying her head in her knees, Webby wraps her arms around her head and squeezes tight, shuddering.

And behind her, a trap door opens.

The hinges of the mechanism make no sound, well-kept and carefully oiled into silence, and the figure that trudges up the steps also moves with practiced sneakiness, even with her arms full of ropes and bent-over pieces of rusty old piping.

Lena stops on the last step, bright green converse pausing mid-air, expression surprised.

Then she frowns.

“Uh, Pink? You okay?”

Vehemently Webby shakes her head without looking up.

“Okay? No! I’m n-not okay! Granny thinks my best friend is a ‘bad influence’, banned you from the manor, and won’t let me out unsupervised anymore! And and and-”

Her breath catches with a sob on every ‘and’.

“I never got your address or phone number or had time to surveil you, or plant a tracker, so the only place I know you like is the place we met- but you’re not here! And now,” she chokes, “now Granny says I'm not supposed to see you again and worse I don't know how to find you so I’m REALLY never going to see you again….”

Lena’s eyebrows skyrocket into her side-brushed bangs, then drop down like dark and moody thunderbolts.

“Are you kidding me?” she groans, “Ugh, what is with her!”

Slumping over, Lena dumps her armful of supplies and drops herself next to Webby on the stage, shoulders falling into a brooding slouch.

“I mean, I get that Tea Time doesn’t like me, but I didn’t think she’d try putting you on lockdown over it.”

Fabric rustles as Webby nods into her skirt. “I know. She’s a- a little overprotective.”  

“A little?” Lena seethes.

Webby giggles. “Maybe a lot.” Sitting up with a sniff she scrubs her eyes on her sleeve. “She means well and I don’t want to break rules, it just hurts so much, and I miss you and… Wait, Lena!?”

Beak dropping open Webby whirls around, gaping.

Lena smiles back at her.

“Hey.”

And in an instant, Webby’s eyes are full of tears again.

“Lena!”

Launching herself forward Webby has Lena wrapped in her arms a split second before the tackle sends them slamming to the floor.

An ‘oof’ of air burst from Lena, thanks to the hug or the impact or both. Face half covered with Webby’s hair she grimaces up at the night sky.

“Wow great, missed you too.” It comes out as a wheeze. Having the air knocked out of you is a good excuse for being breathless. “Th-thing is, I’m really not much of a hugger…”

“Oh!”

Jolting upright Webby holds her arms out wide, as if they were dangerous weapons that could kill with a touch. Which they were.

“Right! Hugs are like whatever, or whatever- But you’re here!”

Pulling her arms in Webby hugged herself tightly and did a happy little wiggle as Lena sits up again.

“Even though it’s the middle of the night, you’re here! Were you waiting this whole time? Is that rope? And a crowbar!?” Every observation brought on a new level of excitement and new intensity of the wiggles.

Lena grins. “Yep. It’s rope and nah, I haven’t been here the whole time, had to go get some stuff. Like rope. Aaand a crowbar. Then I figured, hey, this sort of thing is way easier when it’s dark out anyway, you know?”

Jumping to her feet Webby pumps her fist in the air triumphantly.

“Yes! No! I have no idea what you’re talking about! What thing?”

Leaning an elbow on one knee Lena props her cheek on her fist and watches Webby, grin softening.

“Like, climbing over big fancy gates and up mansion walls to see my best friend, and stuff.”

Webby gasps. “You were going to break into the manor for me?”

“Well, try anyway.” Oversized, off-shoulder sweater slips a little further down as Lena shrugs. “Parkouring up walls isn’t really my thing, not everyone’s an amazing awesome acrobat like you, Pink, but eh. Girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

“Oh.”

Webby bites her bill, happy look fading into something hesitant.

“…to see your friend?” she echoes back cautiously.

Lena raises an eyebrow. “Uh yeah, duh? What, you thought I was just gonna-” a finger snap and a vague flutter of Lena’s free hand indicates the deepening gloom of night. “Ka-pwsh out of there and be bored without you for the rest of my life?”    

Webby winces. “I guess? A little?” Her hand burrow into her skirt, grip crinkling the neatly ironed pleats.

“I thought… I thought you were angry at me. For not standing up to Granny better, about you.”

Both Lena’s eyebrows shoot up this time. “She’s your grandma, Webby, what’re you gonna do? Send her to time-out?”

Webby smiles weakly. “Heh.”

“I’m pissed at her, not you. And.” Leaning in, Lena makes a show of hiding her beak from non-existent observers in the empty stands. “To be honest she’s not even wrong. I’m a VERY bad influence.”

Hands relaxing, Webby smile comes back with a twinkling in her eyes.

“No you’re not. You look all cool and smooth on the outside, but you’re all soft and gooey on the inside. You’re the best.”

Lena snickers, lounging to her feet. “Sure, and you broke rules just to come looking for me. I’m sure Colonel Crumpet wouldn’t blame that on bad influence at all.” She holds up a hand, palm out. “Who’s the rebel now?

Webby high-fives her with a laugh and doesn’t let go.

“Me! I’m a rebel now!” Gleeful laugh turns into a nervous giggle as she swings her and Lena’s hands between them. “Oh Granny’s going to be SO MAD when she finds out….”

“Who’s gonna tell her?”

“Also me, probably. Or maybe my empty bed, if I’m not home in the morning.” 

“Orrr…”

Lifting their linked hands Lena leads Webby in a little giggling twirl before letting go with a flourish.

“You could be back in snug in bed before she even knows you were gone.” Bending down she started sorting through the pile of ropes and break-in implements. “Only after having some fun first, of course. How long until she notices you’re missing?”

“Hmm.” Webby hums, absentmindedly rubbing the hand that had been holding Lena’s. “Her next security sweep should be in approximately two-and-a-half hours.”

Lena looks up, pausing her search with a flat stare. “Security sweep? Seriously?

It’s Webby’s turn to shrug. “My Granny really likes a secure perimeter!”

“I guess I can dig that...” Muttering, Lena leans back down and pulls a couple of small cannisters from the jumble. “I can also think of at least three adventures we can have before you’ve gotta head back.”

Webby perks up so quickly her hairbow seems to snap to attention. “Adventures?”

Lena tosses her a cannister with a grin. “You up for it? I’ll even walk you home after.”

The sound that escapes Webby would have shattered the stage lights, if they hadn’t already all been smashed.

“YES! Yes to adventure!”

Bouncing up and down on her heels she makes a move as if to pounce on Lena again, then checks herself and clasps her hands together around the cannister instead.

“With my best friend!”

She pauses and blinks down at the thing in her hands.

“An adventure in… painting?”

“You got it.”

Tossing her own spray paint can from hand to hand Lena leads the way to a second set of stepping stones, these ones heading off the stage and into the stands.

“Okay so for this first adventure we’re gonna need to ditch the rope and get some water balloons. And paint. More paint. Like, a lot more paint. I’m thinking something in pink, maybe a day-glow... You cool with messing around with the Beagle Boys some more, right?”

Webby skips after her, almost floating on every step. “Totally! We only ALMOST died last time, after all!”

Lena snickers. “Yeeaah it sounds bad when you say it like that.”

“Bad as in good?” Webby askes, coming alongside her.

“Bad as in awesome.” Lena agrees, clinking their cans together in a toast.

“Aha!” Webby cheers as they set off into the patchwork shadows of the city night together. “I knew it! Oh hey you know what these spray cans remind me of this time Granny let me test out bear spray on a real bear, for practice, just to be safe, before dropping me off on the survive or die island for holiday, but- you know that phrase ‘kicking the can down the road’? It comes from this game kids play together and I’ve never had anyone to play it with but it sounds fun and anyway, the bear, right! Well back then I remembered that thing about the can kicking game too! And I got so excited I dropped the can and kicked the bear…”

The night deepens as Webby’s fills the air. Lena watches her, quiet and smiling, as the shadow lengthen around them.  

One shadow, trailing reluctantly at Lena’s heels, pulls itself up a wall and twists itself into a new shape. The sharp figure of woman appears, with a short bob of ‘hair’ and a disgusted scowl.

Blegh...

The shadow hisses, soundless as the darkness.

If playing along with this pink little wretch doesn’t get us into Scroogie’s manor soon, I am going to be SICK.

Lena’s shoulders twitch.

It’ll be worth it. She thinks back at the shadow as it coils in behind her, insubstantial and somehow still breathing down her neck. So just shut up for a sec and let me focus.

Shut up?

An accusatory hiss rasps in her ear, discordant against the backdrop of Webby infodumping about the origins of pepper spray.

Are you telling me to shut up? ME?

Lena flinches.

The shadow dances at her back, it’s whisper turning ice-cold, smooth and scornful.

Poor little dumb-dumb Lena, so desperate that you're actually enjoying this, aren’t you...?

No, Lena think back quickly, wrenching her eyes away from Webby’s beaming smile and back to the street ahead of them. I’m not. I’m really, really not.

Hmm….  

If Webby had looked up right then, instead of being busy reading out the ingredients listed on the spray paint can and listing all the ways they could be easily weaponized, if she had looked up, she might have seen Lena’s smile slip at the corners.

She might also have noticed an exhausted slump in the teen’s shoulders, or realized she’d seen a similar sad, guilty look in her Granny’s eyes only a few hours beforehand.

Or maybe not.

Lena hadn’t chosen to live under an abandoned theater for no reason, after all. She was very good at lying.

Especially to herself.