Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Uncle Donald?” Louie asked. 

“Yes, Louie?” Donald stopped scrubbing the dishes from supper and rinsed his hands with a quick stream of hot water.

“Where do we go when we die?”

 Donald froze. He laughed nervously and he was sure, despite his best efforts, it showed. “Why would you ask something like that?”

Louie shrugged. “No reason.”

“There has to be some reason,” Donald kneeled down. “I know you, you never do anything without a reason. You’re smart like that.”

Louie played with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Can you just answer the question already?”

“Okay.” Donald didn’t have the proper context but he just had to try his best to come up with a satisfactory answer regardless. “When we die, we go to sleep, forever.”

“Can people who die ever wake up?”

“Never-” Donald cut himself off. “Well, not always. Sometimes if a doctor is quick enough they can wake the dead person up. That’s pretty rare though.”

“How quick do they have to be?”

“Less than an hour, I think.” Thankfully, it had been a long time since that information had been useful. 

“I see…” Louie scuffed the kitchenette floor. “So they wouldn’t be able to wake Mom up then.”

Donald startled. “What does your mom have anything to do with this?”

“She’s dead, right?” Louie stopped fidgeting, his eyes finally found Donald’s. “You say she’s gone but you can stop alluding to it. We’re five years old for crying out loud. That’s big enough to stop treating us like little kids.”

“She's not dead.” Donald tried to convince himself. They had no proof, a body had never been found, until that happened Donald couldn’t discount her, despite everything. Della had always been the better of the three of them. She had died years ago, only the rich old fool who’d killed her would think otherwise.

“So my theory was right.” Louie’s face twisted, tears at the corners of his eyes. “I knew it. She didn’t want us.”

“What! No!” Donald wouldn’t pretend to understand what Della was thinking in the weeks leading up to the Spear of Selene. She’d pulled away at some point, without him even noticing, but if he knew one thing it was that he’d never seen her happier than when she’d learned she was going to be a mother. Never seen her more angry when Donald had dropped an egg. Never seen her more content than when she was singing lullabies. Della had loved her children with every fiber of her being. That was a definite and interminable truth.

“You can say she loved us, but that can’t be true if she’s not here.” Louie sniffled, rubbing at his face. “Forget it. Thanks Un-”

Donald put his hands on Louie’s shoulders. “Listen, I don’t like talking about it but the truth is-” Donald took a deep breath. “There was an accident. It was,” He sighed, unfurling a tight knot of unresolved anger in his chest. “It was impossible anyone could’ve predicted it, even if you were the smartest person in the world.”

“Like smarter than Huey smart?”

Donald laughed. “Yes, smarter than Huey.”

“Wow. What sort of accident couldn’t you stop if you were that smart?”

“There was a sudden storm.”

“With lightning and thunder and everything?”

“And everything.” Donald agreed. 

“Mom must’ve been so scared.” 

“Yeah,” Donald sat down more properly on the kitchenette floor, guiding Louie into his lap. “Maybe.”

“I’d be scared.” Louie swayed his flippers side to side. “But I’m guessing, based on your answer, she might be like Dewey. He’s never afraid of anything.”

“She was exactly like Dewey.” Donald booped Louie on the tip of his beak. “She loved to take risks, explore and rush ahead regardless of the danger.”

“Am I anything like her?” Louie asked, wide grey-blue eyes, the same as Della’s, stared back at him.  

“So much.” Donald chuckled. “You both hate fish for one thing.”

“Finally! A family member that makes sense!” Louie cried. “Please tell me she didn’t like black licorice either.”

“Are you kidding? She avoided it like the plague.”

“As she should.” Louie nodded. “Demon candy.”

“But it’s more than just that. It’s the way you curl your fists when you’re excited, or throw your hands up when you’re proven right. It’s the way both of you collect things until your pockets are full of all sorts of random bits and bobs or your smirk when up to no good. It's how your laughter is slightly maniacal, no matter what you're laughing at.”

 Donald ruffled his nephew's hair. “My point is, all three of you remind me of her so much in all sorts of little ways.”

“Oh.” Louie leaned back into Donald’s embrace. “Isn’t that lonely?”

If Donald had to pick one trait Louie had inherited, it would be his mother’s intuition. 

Donald put on a smile anyway and tickled his belly, rewarded with laughter. “How can I be lonely when I have such wonderful little rapscallions? Hmm?”

“I guess you have a point.” Louie giggled and squeezed him in a hug. “Thanks Unca Donald. I’m going to go check up on Huey and Dewey now.”

“No problem Louie. Remember if you have a question, just ask.”

Louie nodded and scrambled off to his room. The reason for his hurry became apparent as soon as he stood up. Right, dishes, he hadn’t finished those yet. He picked up his sponge and went back to scrubbing mac and cheese residue off of a plate.