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It had been a week since his escape from the House of Fortune. He'd since gotten himself a new yacht, and was currently en route to Duckburg, seeing as Donald and the rest of the fam had flown the coop and left him here. He supposed he couldn't blame them, the whole hotel trap deal had gotten a tad...out of hand. But things had turned out alright, everyone was safe and not enslaved to a luck eating demon, all's well that ends well, right?
.....at least, it should've been.
Despite the fact he was well away from Macaw and the hotel and Liu Hai....Gladstone still found himself on an edge of sorts. He'd be fixing some tea, or sunbathing, or just watching TV, when out nowhere he'd just be struck with an overwhelming feeling like he was being watched. Like a million eyes were on him from everywhere. It set his spine on ice and had him constantly looking over his shoulder and jumping at the slightest movement in the corner of his eye. There were times it got to be so much he'd just retreat to his bed and bury himself in blankets, attempting to hide from the invisible eyes, until either the feeling passed, or he eventually fell asleep; usually it was the latter.
It was a familiar feeling that had begun in the hotel, with Liu Hai's numerous constructs watching his every move, and even Liu Hai himself had occasionally popped into his room out of nowhere, or would make comments on his supposed to be secret escape attempts.
"I have eyes everywhere, Mr. Gander..."
He thought he'd left that paranoia behind when he left Macaw, but apparently, it had followed him, and that would've been enough to deal with.
But then the dreams started.
The eyes he couldn't see suddenly became very visible; hundreds of glowing eyes surrounded him, watching his every move, staring into his very core. Taunting him, daring him to make a move. The only move he could make was to run, run fast, and try to get away from their prying gazes. But they followed, never blinking, never looking away, just staring, staring and laughing and piercing--
Worse than the eyes was the large smoky form that would appear before him, its own eyes as large and imposing at itself. Grinning down at him with sharpened teeth and laughing as it engulfed him in its form, swirling around him at a blinding pace, so fast he couldn't make anything out, sucking the air from his lungs as chains and hands weighed him down, everything would go black and--
He'd wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air, and heart thumping so loud he could feel it in his head. It'd be hours before he could sleep again, if he even wanted to.
Other times, he got more physical reminders of the past events.
Gladstone scowled at the small marks trailing along his neck and down his upper arm. They didn't hurt, really, but the memories they brought up--
The teeth sinking into his skin, the hands keeping him immobile in their iron clad grip, the nauseated feeling that washed over him as he was drained to the dregs. The screams and cries for help no one ever responded to--
He shook his head, attempting to dispel them as he hastily pulled his shirt on. No reason to dwell. He was Gladstone Gander, he didn't let little things bother him, right?
But no amount of rubbing or scratching would quell the itchy tingling sensation that claimed his arm when he'd think back to those times. It drove him mad, it did.
He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.
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Docking in Duckburg, Gladstone breathed in the familiar air with a sigh of relief. Being home was good, that would surely drive off all those unwanted emotions and bad dreams.
Uncle Scrooge's mansion loomed over the city, and the sight gave him a slight twinge of guilt. The fam was probably still a little upset, even a week later; they probably wouldn't wanna see him just yet. Especially Donald....
But....seeing him would be good for Gladstone after everything....
Well he'd dealt with Donald's temper before. Once more wouldn't be a big deal, even be welcomed.
He'd gotten a less than thrilled greeting from Uncle Scrooge, but it wasn't nearly as enraged as he'd expected. If anything, he was passive, simply directed him to the pool where he found Donald's houseboat. He chuckled at the sight, and approached the door.
He stood there for a moment, hesitant now that he was actually here. Donald was probably still mad, what with the challenge and him getting stuck there for all of five minutes. And the unintentional embarrassment he caused in their round through the casino.
But...he really needed to see him. Needed the familiarity. Needed SOMETHING to help him feel normal again. Even if it was anger.
And so he knocked.
A minute passed before it finally opened to reveal a tired looking Donald.
"D-Meister--!"
And the door was abruptly slammed in his face.
Well, he had wanted normality...
He knocked again, lighter this time, and offered a grin instead as Donald begrudgingly pulled it open.
"What?"
"Hey, cous, how's it shaking up here in high society living?"
"Peachy, thanks for dropping by, see ya--"
"Wait, wait, wait--!"
He quickly grabbed the door, keeping it open as he scrambled to find a way in.
"Look I know you're not my biggest fan right now--"
"I never was."
"--but I just wanted to drop in and see how you're holding up!"
"....so you picked the middle of the night?"
"It's only....seven thirty, barely sunset hours right?"
"That doesn't mean I wanna visit, especially with you; also what's with the turtle neck, it's like seventy degrees out."
"Oh....y-you know me, always on the cutting edge of good looks. Now you gonna invite me in or should I grab a poolchair?"
Donald only gave him a quirked brow this time, but to his surprise and delight, did finally step aside to let him through. Grinning lazily as he always did, he sauntered his way in, and made his way for the table as Donald shut the door behind them.
Not much had changed since hed last seen the place. Small, homey, and a bit dated for his liking but otherwise charming. Very Donald, he thought.
"So, Spitfire, how are things? Uncle McGruff wasn't exactly chatty in the two minutes he actually acknowledged me."
"Well we had an exciting unplanned visit to Ethiquack."
"Oh? That sounds great; how's Selene, the lovely Moondrop?"
"Dunno, got kinda distracted with not getting killed by Zeus or hugged to death by Storkules."
"Oh yeah, Zeus...did not care for Zeus..."
"Neither did anyone else, apparently, they all left."
Gladstone snorted as he toyed with one of the placemats. Awkward silence followed, broken occasionally by him clearing his throat or making comments on random decor. Donald busied himself making tea, both knowing they'd need it to get through this visit.
Gladstone offered a small thanks as he set the mugs down, and sighed in content as he took a drink.
"Man, no one makes it better than you, Donnie Boy. Really did miss this."
"What, they didn't have tea in a big shot, fancy hotel in China?"
The mention nearly made him choke; he hadn't been expecting that to pop into the conversation so soon. He managed to hide his shock behind another feigned cough, and flashed a stiff grin.
"Well...yeah but it's not the same, ya know? Homemade and all."
".....I think that was literally the most homemade tea you could have."
"Ok look I'm trying to compliment your cooking, alright?"
Donald merely rolled his eyes as he took a tentative sip. Gladstone idly twirled the mug, watching the dark brew for a moment before speaking up again.
"Look...about the whole accidentally trapping you thing..."
"Forget it, everything worked out fine, didn't it?"
"Well, I mean...yeah but not exactly how I wanted it to. No one was supposed to swap with me or bring the kids into the mix--"
"Like they were going to stay home when I mentioned you calling and Scrooge wanting to take them on a trip to a golden cricket temple?"
"....ok that's fair. But I really never intended for things to happen like they did; I figured your...complicated luck would either rub off on me or wreck the place to the point Toad would just kick us all out. Either way seemed like a good option."
"Whatever, it's fine; one more battle scar to add to my collection."
"Ahhh, a few minor burn marks, you'll still have your decent looks. Ladies eat that stuff up, don't they?"
"That's not what I meant."
He set the mug down, and pulled his collar back to reveal several shallow bite marks.
Gladstone gaped at the sight, nearly dropping his mug.
"Wha--where'd those come from?!"
"I'll give ya three guesses and they all smell like soggy mint leaves."
"....wait, did Toad...?! That slimy son of a—I'm dragging him back from wherever he went and ripping him a new one so help me—!"
"Take it easy, Gladstone, they're not even that deep. He barely broke skin before he started freaking out about my terrible luck. But, that's not why I brought it up…"
He fixed Gladstone with a pointed frown, and the latter withdrew somewhat as he subconsciously tugged at his collar.
"So....why did you...?"
"I want to know why you're really here."
"What...are you talking about? I-I just wanted to visit."
"Uh huh, lemme see you arm."
"What?"
"Let me see."
"Don it's fine—"
"Gladstone."
"Look I just wanted to drop in and say hi, not dwell on the past. It's no biggie—"
He yelped as Donald abruptly snatched his arm and started tugging at his sleeves.
"Hey cut it out! You're gonna stretch the material—!"
"Let me see your dang arm--!"
"No, it's fine!"
"I WILL LOCK YOU IN THIS HOUSE IF YOU DON'T START TALKING, I SWEAR—!"
"DONALD, SERIOUSLY STOP...!"
Donald finally managed to snag his shirt collar, and jerked it down to reveal his neck and part of his shoulder. Like Donald, he too bore bite marks, but his were far deeper and older, scarred over with time. Gladstone froze for a moment, before abruptly lashing out with his foot and kicking the other away.
"GET OFF...!"
Donald backed off, riled up and ready to hurl an insult-- but stopped as he took in Gladstone's appearance. The bristled feathers, the defensive stance as he pressed a hand to the injured area, the distant, fearful look in his wide eyes.
Like he'd been through this before.
He seemed to snap out of the spell moments later, and quickly averted his eyes. He scowled at the floor, gripping his arm in a harsh manner.
"I'm leaving, I'll see you around."
He brushed past, headed for the door at a brisk pace, intent on just leaving all this behind, this was a mistake, he shouldn't have come—
Donald stepped in front of him, frowning but more concerned than angered.
"Gladstone, I don't want to argue with you right now."
"Neither do I, D.D., really..."
"Then tell me WHY you're here. Why'd you come to see me?"
Gladstone didn't answer. His narrowed eyes were looking everywhere but Donald, who sighed and moved closer. He carefully placed a hand on his other, presumably uninjured shoulder, and only then did he finally meet his eyes.
His were on the verge of breaking, letting all the pent-up emotions spill out, but he forced them back. He couldn't let his emotions get the better of him, not with Don, HE was supposed to be the emotional one. Gladstone was always the one who maintained a calm demeanor no matter what. He didn't stress over things, didn't have worries, didn't let minor problems bother him—
Donald tightened his grip, and lightly shook him back to the present.
"Gladdy, talk to me, please."
He took a stuttered breath, and swallowed the feelings bubbling inside.
"I just...wanted to see ya, see how things were going, how the kids are doing. You know, the usual."
Donald's skepticism remained, and he directed Gladstone back to the sofa bench.
"Will you stop with the crap already and tell me what's going on?" he asked, sitting them down. Gladstone hesitated, biting at his lower beak, but Don's hand on his shoulder urged him to respond.
"I.....I needed to see you. Needed something I can deal with...I can handle your temper tantrums, and Scrooge's nitpicking, and people loving and hating my luck. I can handle all that! I can't handle,”
He stammered for a moment, lost for words, and gesturing at his arm.
“Whatever THIS is. The dreams, the paranoia—I can't watch TV without feeling like I'M being watched, I haven't had a decent night's sleep in days and it's driving me crazy—!"
He cut himself off with a sharp inhale; he glanced briefly at Donald, as if to gauge his reaction, before looking away again as a light blush formed.
"S-so anyway, yeah, just...yeah..."
"Why didn't you just say so?"
Gladstone let out a shaky laugh, breath hitching at the end.
"Because I'm ME, I don't have worries or problems, right?! So what if I have a few bad dreams or get worked up over nothing being there even when it feels like there is! I've got it all, don't I?"
Donald stared at him as he went on, before he sighed and shook his head, and lightly bumped him with his shoulder.
"You dummy, being lucky doesn't change the fact you went through something horrible.”
He spoke softly, being careful not to sound condescending.
"If you were going through all that, you should've called me, or Grandma or Uncle Ludwig; you know we aren't gonna turn you away when you need us."
"Well, you were closer and I just...I knew you were still gonna be mad, so I thought I'd let you cool off."
"Well yeah I was mad, I don't like nearly getting cooked alive or eaten by a tiger when we could've avoided it all if you'd just said 'Hey, being held captive by a luck demon'."
"I feel like you and everyone else missed the whole 'under surveillance 24/7 and I literally couldn't tell you without being caught' thing; I mean he even SAID he'd have found out, how did you not get that—?"
"ANYWAY, the point is yes I was mad but that doesn't mean I'm gonna ignore you when you're upset. You’re family, even if you're a pain in the neck half the time....okay a majority of the time. If you needed to talk, you know I'm always gonna listen."
He could feel Gladstone shaking under his hand, and was still visibly fighting back everything wanting to burst out of him. He sighed, and forced Gladstone to meet his eye.
"Gladstone, just talk; whatever you want to say just say it."
Finally, he let out trembling sound, some mix of a laugh and a sob, before letting his head drop onto the other's shoulder as it grew into what was most definitely a sob.
"I just…I was so scared, Don! I didn't know what to do, I'm not like you or Scrooge or.....I-I can't THINK my way out of problems like you guys! My luck always did it for me, but it did the opposite there it just made things worse!”
He ran a hand through his hair, breath coming in short gasps.
“Every time I got close to maybe getting out of there, he'd turn it around on me and I'd be back to square one! And he'd get so mad and he was scary when he was mad, you don't even know; he'd have me gaming til I dropped or if I really got on his nerves he’d just rip the luck outta me and—!”
He collapsed against Donald, who remained respectfully silent as he embraced him and rubbed his back.
"I HATED those times, I hated it, it hurt it’s like…getting your insides ripped out and leaving you empty! I tried fighting back but he'd just hold me tighter and I swear he was gonna break my arm once, I had bruises for a week! Sometimes he'd lock me up in some backroom for hours beforehand just to freak me out and I'd get so worked up by the time he came in I couldn't even think I'd just lose it and I don't...!
"I'd yell and scream so loud, hoping someone would hear, anybody, and come help but no one...no one ever did..."
He trailed off, heaving out another sob as his grip tightened. As if to keep himself grounded in the present, to remind himself...he wasn't there, he wasn't in that room.
The next few minutes ticked by in near silence, save for the weeping and uneven gasps. Donald finally spoke, offering soft comforts, that everything was alright now and he's so sorry they left him there, and hugging him tighter, almost painfully so but neither cared. It didn't matter, nothing else did at the moment; their past quarrels, good luck, bad luck, it didn't matter. All that did was making sure Gladstone felt what he clearly hadn't in some time.
Safe.
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Huey, Dewey, and Louie approached the houseboat, curiously eyeing it.
"Why are we out here again?" Louie grumbled.
"Webby said she saw Uncle Gladstone come out here. Probably to see Uncle Donald." Huey replied as they crossed the boardwalk.
"Exactly, and I'd like to stay as far away from the ticking time bomb as possible..."
"I mean it's been two hours and the boat hasn't sunk or blown up, sooo...good sign?" Dewey offered weakly, clearly unsure if he even wanted to go in.
All three sighed, and continued forward; their curiosity was too great. Ever since Macaw, Uncle Donald had been vocal in his displeasure with their distant pseudo uncle. So there was sure to be some crazy antics going on inside...
Walking with practiced steps to avoid the creaking planks, the triplets gathered beneath one of the windows, and stood on the very tips of their toes to peer inside, finding....
Their uncles bundled up on the couch, passed out in a sleeping pile.
Well, it was certainly something none of them had expected. Pretty soon they quickly and quietly scrambled their way back to the mansion, leaving the sleeping cousins be.
It was a rare moment of peace for them that no one had the heart to destroy.