The plan had been supposed to be fail-proof.

And it had seemed fail-proof. Mrs. B would pick up the triplets, bring them to the mansion, and then they would finally and actually meet Scrooge and learn that he was, in fact, their uncle. Webby felt a little guilty of doing it behind Della's back, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Webby had bounced into the kitchen that morning, finding Launchpad nowhere to be seen (which was a relief for now) and Mrs. B eating breakfast. And also on the phone. So Webby quietly slipped into her seat and waited for her granny to finish her call before excitedly rambling about today.

"Mhm . . . oh -" Mrs. B cut off, surprised. "They can't -? Oh . . . yes, alright. That's fine. Goodbye."

She set down her phone and looked at her granddaughter. For a few seconds, she hesitated.

"I'm sorry," Mrs. B said quietly. "We can't pick up the triplets today."

What?

Webby stared at her granny in disbelief. No no no - "Why?" she managed.

Mrs. B shrugged. "They all have colds. All three of them. She said that they're sort of bad colds, too . . . sorry, Webby."

Webby didn't hear Mrs. B's apology. She slumped in her seat, staring at her hands . . . it had been going so perfectly. She knew it had been too good to be true. Out of the blue, all of the triplets had caught colds - and in the case of Della, that meant they wouldn't be leaving the house anytime soon.

The fail-proof plan had . . . well, failed.

It wasn't even two of the triplets, or one of the triplets - all three of them were sick. Naturally, Mrs. B supposed, since the three of them were brothers and they all slept in a triple-bunk bed. Siblings had a tendency to share illnesses.

Suddenly Webby felt very small - she wanted to go under her covers and curl up and shut her eyes, and maybe pretend that her plan hadn't just shattered to pieces. But instead she managed an "Oh, that's fine," to her granny when she heard the news, and she slid off her stool and rushed out of the kitchen without breakfast.

Once she was out of the kitchen . . . her vision swam with sudden tears.

She started wandering aimlessly around the mansion. Her mind was full to the brim with thoughts, swirling and spinning and never stopping. She just - she wanted her family to be whole again - was that too much to ask? Stupid darn colds - why was getting sick a thing - it only existed to ruin people's plans and make everyone miserable and -

- and Webby blinked.

She was standing right in front of the door to the garage.

Or . . . what she had called it. The "Wing of Secrets". She had lost track of how much she had wandered (how far away was the Wing of Secrets from the kitchen? She couldn't remember), and her flippers had taken her to the one place where she'd bonded with the triplets.

At least, she assumed so. It was also the place where Scrooge had suddenly become Scrooge McDuck again, and she always loved remembering that moment.

She thought for a minute. Then she looked around - just to make sure Scrooge wouldn't catch her and send her back to Mrs. B or her room or somewhere else - and pushed open the door.

It was exactly as it had been in her universe. Except it was dustier than normal, and more objects were piled up, and the gold dragon in the corner was still there. Still as a statue. Because it was just that - a statue.

She saw the Gardenhose of Destiny and that stack of old magazines, and she saw a painting with one of its corners folding over on itself. And she was hit with so very many emotions at once that she rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn't crying.

Stupid colds. Stupid stupid stupid. She'd even made sure that Scrooge didn't have anywhere to go this morning, just for this, and now her plan wasn't even working and CRASH -

Webby collided with something and promptly fell onto the floor. She rubbed her head, glaring up at what she had walked into -

And she sat up straighter.

The gong. With the gold dragon. She'd hit the gong and, more importantly, she had set it off.

Webby stared at the gong for a solid few seconds, just sitting on the ground and focusing her gaze on the stone marble. She'd set it off and the triplets weren't even here - how many more people would accidentally bump into this?

Her eyes widened.

Immediately she scrambled to her feet. She started mentally pointing to the things that the triplets had accidentally set off in her universe out to herself, nodding as she did so.

What about this photo? Photoshop.

This trunk? Probably bought it at an auction.

The trunk!

She hurried over to the trunk, dug her fingernails into the lid, and swung it open. A white linen cloth rose in front of her, shaped like a ghost.

This g-ghost? You mean this Halloween decoration?

Webby grabbed the cloth and pulled it off.

The ghost snarled down at her. Webby jumped a bit, startled, but nevertheless she dodged the ghost's attacks to swipe at her. He couldn't completely harm her anyway, but . . .

She sprinted over to a cane rack by the front door. Perfect - the sword was still there! She grabbed the sword and held it threateningly towards the ghost.

It's real! It's really really real!

The sword flew from her hands, causing Webby to stumble back a bit, and zoomed straight for the ghost. Fortunately - if Webby's history served her right, and she was fairly certain it did - the sword was supposed to slay the ghost. Unfortunately . . . the ghost was already dead.

"Come and get me!" Webby shouted, running past the ghost.

Was she missing something? She didn't think so, so she ran full-force towards the gong. Raised a fist. And then hit it with all her might.

If that didn't enact her plan, then who knew what would.

A few seconds passed. The ghost was slowly walking (floating?) towards her, laughing and cackling. The sword was still sliding right through the ghost. Webby's heart was racing - she didn't have anything to defend herself - c'mon, plan, work -

One more and something terrible could happen!

What could possibly be worse than THIS?

The ghost was getting closer - Webby braced herself, backing away slowly -

"WEBBIGAIL!"

Webby's eyes flew open.

It was Scrooge. He was standing in the doorway, gripping his cane and looking furious at the mess she'd created.

"What are you doing?" he exclaimed, his voice bouncing around the room.

"I uh -" Webby struggled to come up with a good explanation. "- I accidentally set some stuff off and -"

Before she could finish her thought, the ghost loomed closer to her than ever before. Gosh darn it, she hadn't thought this through - Scrooge was here, alright, but now the ghost was going to for sure attack her (even though she didn't exactly know how he would) and -

Suddenly there was something in front of her. Webby glanced up and her eyes went wide - it was Scrooge, and he was blocking the ghost's attack with his cane.

She would've stayed there, staring at Scrooge trying to defend her, if he hadn't glanced at her and ordered, "Get somewhere safe, Webbigail!"

Webby scrambled to her feet and got out from behind Scrooge; then she hid behind a giant picture frame, panting and trying to catch her breath. Her mind whirled with thoughts - she'd gotten Scrooge into the garage! She was one ring away from setting the dragon off! Oh, she'd have to get him to ring the gong somehow -

She peeked out from behind the picture frame. The ghost and the sword had teamed up and were now engaged in a duel with Scrooge (whose weapon of choice was apparently his cane), and now they moved back and forth around the garage.

"What'll it take to send you back to the underworld?" Scrooge demanded.

The ghost growled. "Your head."

Scrooge almost seemed . . . disappointed, if anything. "Of course," he sighed, and then he straightened and gestured towards the ghost. "Come and get it, then."

Webby knew what was going to happen, but that still didn't stop her from watching the scene with wide eyes and a bated breath - it was just as thrilling as seeing it in her universe all those months ago. He seemed one stop closer to becoming her uncle again and that was incredibly exciting.

She watched as Scrooge and the strange assortment of magical things continued their duel, attacking and blocking and defending themselves - Webby so desperately wanted to help, but she knew that Scrooge would win this. He just would.

The ghost swung the sword down at Scrooge. Webby held her breath - what if the sword actually got him this time? - but suddenly Scrooge was holding a statue of his own head, and he was actually grinning, and then he threw the head to the ghost.

"There's your head," he said matter-of-factly.

The ghost caught the stone head on an instinct; he let out a house-shattering roar as he started fading from view.

When the ghost had finally disappeared, Scrooge shrugged. "Should've been more specific."

"Wow!" Webby exclaimed, running from her hiding spot - Scrooge jumped at her voice and whirled around. "That was amazing, Sc - Mr. McDuck! And when you tricked the ghost and gave him your stone head - I always thought that was incredible - no, well, I thought it was incredible, and -"

He slammed his cane on the ground. Webby froze mid-ramble.

"I - I can explain!" Webby cried. "I came down here to, um, look for you?"

"In here?" Scrooge demanded. "This is the garage! Why would I be in here?"

Webby fumbled around for an explanation, but she came up empty-handed and gave him a lost expression.

Scrooge let out an exasperated sigh, and he turned around and started to head towards the door. "Get out of here, Webbigail."

Wha - no no no, he couldn't leave! This had been all for nothing! Webby hadn't been about to start a whole mess of enchanted objects in the garage just for it all to go to waste. "But -" she tried.

"Out," he repeated firmly.

Webby didn't move, though. Scrooge was so close to the door, so close to leaving - he hadn't even hit the gong one more time, like she'd been hoping, and - oh!

She ran over to the gong. Scowled at it. And then - with as much anger and annoyance and strength that she could muster - she kicked it with the heel of her flipper.

It rang tremendously, shaking the garage. Webby stumbled backwards and lost her balance, ending up on the floor, and stared at the gong with wide eyes.

"Come on, Webbigail," Scrooge said, sounding impatient. "You only activate the gong if you ring it three times, and -"

The giant stone dragon that sat on top of the gong started to shake. Cracks slithered up the sides and the stone belly, revealing hints of gold underneath. The stone eyes split open to reveal ruby-red eyes, narrowing and focusing their gaze on Webby.

"- and . . . oh." Scrooge swallowed. "You . . . already hit it two times . . . didn't you?"

Webby scooted backwards in an attempt to get away from the stone dragon - but before she could scoot anymore, she was suddenly lifted into the air and set on her flippers several feet away from the dragon.

It had been Scrooge, of course; and as the dragon finally woke up, it paused and sniffed the air. Webby held her breath, hoping with all her might that the dragon would do what she thought it'd do -

"Pixiu," Webby whispered, as if saying what it was meant for would activate her plan. "The gold-hunting dragon."

And, in a way, saying those words did activate her plan. The dragon burst through the roof, leaving a nice-sized hole in its wake.

Gold-hunting? Sounds great!

Not when you're Duckburg's single largest OWNER of gold!

"Ack!" Scrooge cried as the dragon's head turned in the direction of the Bin. "Me Money Bin!"

Before Webby could say anything else, he started running towards the direction of the quickly-disappearing dragon tail. Scrooge gripped the end of the dragon's tail, but then he paused and turned towards Webby.

"Stay here," he said firmly, and then suddenly the tail yanked him out of the garage.

Silence.

Webby stood there for a few seconds, her jaw dropping.

Then she let out a squeal and started dancing around the garage. It had worked! Her back-up improvised plan had worked! Scrooge was currently trying to defeat the gold dragon before he got to the Money Bin! She could improvise - look at that, her plan wasn't a failure after all -

Then she gasped. "I've gotta go find Launchpad!" she exclaimed, and she ran out of the garage.

She found Launchpad in the living room, sweeping the floor - she burst into the room like a bouncing ball of energy and declared that they needed to get the plane ready, Launchpad! Right now!

Launchpad blinked, startled. "The plane?" he repeated.

Oh shoot. Webby had completely forgotten that Launchpad wasn't the pilot. "Nevermind," she said quickly, already halfway out of the room. "Forget that. On an unrelated note, where's Granny?"

Just like Webby had hoped, she soon discovered that Mrs. B knew exactly where the Sunchaser was, in all its red-and-orange glory. They were up in the air in a matter of minutes, and Webby told her granny to quickly fly over to the Money Bin as fast as possible, because they didn't want Scrooge McDuck getting hurt by a giant gold dragon.

"I haven't flown this thing in years," Mrs. B said fondly, glancing at the plane's controls. "It feels good to fly it again. Now, Webby -" She glanced at her granddaughter, who was sitting in the other seat up front. "What's your plan here after rescuing Mr. McD, by the way?"

Webby felt a huge smile explode across her beak. She reached down and grabbed the hose she'd snagged from the garage - the Medusa Gauntlet was safely wrapped in a cloth by the hose - and then held it up. "Gardenhose of Destiny."

~

Scrooge did not - no matter how much his mind protested against it - want to admit that trying to defeat a giant, gold dragon? That was currently spiraling out of control towards the Money Bin and his entire wealth?

It was actually sort of . . . refreshing.

He hadn't gone adventuring in years. He didn't even remember the last time he'd been out of the mansion and had actually enjoyed it. (No, he sternly told himself, you do not enjoy this. Your MONEY is at stake.)

It was almost like old times, he let himself think.

He shimmied up the dragon's tail, trying to get closer to its head - hopefully to stop this blasted thing from actually destroying any of his money - but naturally the dragon felt him moving around. So, in an attempt to get rid of Scrooge, the dragon slithered in between two very close walls and did nothing to try not to bump into the buildings' walls.

"It'll - it'll take more than a bruised spine," Scrooge muttered, wincing at the newly-forming bruises everywhere. "You can't shake Scrooge McDuck off, you -"

The dragon seemed to hear his statement, and - in retaliation, he supposed - it shook its tail vigorously.

Scrooge all but flew off of the dragon at that. He flailed around, trying so desperately to find something, anything to grab onto, but then he was plummeting towards the ground and so so so very fast, and -

Suddenly there was a tiny hand clutching his. Then he was being pulled into an oh-so-familiar plane (was Mrs. Beakley flying it??), and once he found that he stood on some kind of ground, he collapsed onto the floor.

Scrooge glanced up. It was Webby, standing in front of him and - was she holding a hose? "I thought I told you to stay -" he began, trying to push himself up.

"No time!" Webby said quickly. She helped Scrooge to his feet and then almost immediately started tying the hose around his waist. "You've gotta defeat that dragon. It's probably almost at the Bin. Oh, and you'll need the Medusa Gauntlet."

"The Medusa what?" How had she even gotten her hands on that thing?

She finished tightening the hose with a near-perfect knot, then thrust him a cloth-covered object. "The Medusa Gauntlet! I was gonna put it back afterwards, Scrooge, don't worry."

Scrooge could only stare at the object when he unwrapped the cloth. Sure enough, it was the Medusa Gauntlet, right here and in his hands. He was jerked back to reality when he heard Webby call, "Granny, we need to swing him out! Nosedive towards the Bin and get ready to pull up!"

"Yes ma'am!" Mrs. B shouted from the cockpit. The plane immediately swerved downwards.

Webby pushed Scrooge towards the entrance hatch - which was still wide open, and how Scrooge wanted to lecture someone for keeping that open - and then she brightly said, "You have the Medusa Gauntlet, you've got the rope - any questions?"

Any questions? He had a million! But the only question his mind seemed to settle on wasn't even the biggest and most important question on his mind: "Since when is your granny still a pilot?" was all he said.

Webby shrugged. "This whole time, apparently. Now go!"

She shoved him out of the plane and kept a tight grip on the rope. Scrooge suddenly found himself in the air; he hastily slipped on the Medusa Gauntlet when he saw the end of the dragon's tail wiggle in the air out of the Money Bin.

(The Bin, which now had a fantastic hole in the roof of it. That would be a pain to pay for.)

A sudden new burst of energy flared up inside of him. With a grin, Scrooge grabbed the end of the dragon's tail - and stone immediately spread all over the dragon. He let out a laugh, reveling in his moment of pride -

- and then the rope slipped off of his waist.

~

"Scrooge!" Webby shrieked in horror. She knew would happen next, she really did, but it didn't stop her heart from pounding loudly in her ears as Scrooge vanished into the piles of his money. She could almost feel the triplets right beside her, crowding around to look through a tiny window to reassure themselves that Scrooge was really all right.

A pang of guilt shot through her heart. The triplets were supposed to be here. Stupid Della and her hatred against any and all things McDuck -

"There he is!" Mrs. B called. Webby shook herself out of her stupor and looked out the window again - Scrooge had popped up from the piles of money. He'd even started to swim in them, and it brought a huge smile to Webby's face.

"There you are," she whispered.

Then the plane jerked downwards and plummeted towards the ground.

~

Webby had been through this scenario once before, so she knew exactly how it would go down. She awkwardly sat down on a broken piece of the plane, watching Scrooge pace on the beach in front of her as Mrs. B attempted to fix the now-crashed plane.

"In the span of an hour," Scrooge muttered, quiet but so Webby could hear it, "you wrecked my garage, unleashed several ancient evils on the city -" He stopped in front of her with a frown. "- and almost got me killed! Twice!"

Four times, if you count each individual monster as a separate -

Webby didn't say anything. She just looked up at Scrooge, and for a minute or two they seemed to be locked in a staring contest.

Then he started laughing.

Relief pooled through Webby. Finally.

"That was incredible!" he exclaimed, sitting down beside her. "When you pulled me into the plane and said 'no time' - and who would've thought of a Medusa Gauntlet? I haven't touched that thing in years."

He gazed at her before shaking his head. "Curse me kilts, Webbigail - all those years in my house, we should've done something together."

Now this was starting to feel a bit familiar. Webby said her next sentence with a strong feeling of déjà vu. "Granny always said you were busy and shouldn't be bothered. If you wanted something, then you'd come to me."

"I'd come to -" He laughed again. "I clearly didn't have enough sense to do that, ey?" Then Scrooge ruffed her hair, giving a content sigh. "Although that does sounds like something Launchpad would say. I never noticed how much trouble you are, Webbigail . . . how I've missed trouble."

Webby could only nod with a burst of happiness - Scrooge was starting to be more like Scrooge now. And it was incredible.

"Well," Scrooge started nonchalantly, slipping his phone out of his pocket, "I suppose I need to teach you how to get out of trouble."

Webby's jaw dropped. "You mean -"

Scrooge winked at her and held his phone up to his ear. "Launchpad, clear my schedule!" he ordered. "I'm spending the day with Beakley's granddaughter. Remarkable lass, you know."

"About time," Launchpad said, relieved. Webby had started bouncing up and down and squealing a bit, too.

"Thank you, Mr. McDuck!" she cried.

"Oh, please." Scrooge put an arm around her and squeezed her in a hug. "Call me Uncle Scrooge."

Webby's eyes widened.

She wanted to burst into happy tears. He'd said it. He'd said the thing. She wanted to cry and laugh and jump up and down and dance at the same time.

Call me Uncle Scrooge.

She threw herself onto him, hugging him back. "I'm Webby."

A/N: we've got an updating schedule now!! I'll be posting chapters every Friday until I either run out of motivation for a while or just run out of chapters XD