Disclaimer: I don't own Ducktales!

Title: Frosty

Summary: Goldie sees a newer, softer side to Scrooge McDuck

Setting: Pre-Canon

...

Goldie hears the old coot coming. Even in the harshest of winters, she knows the crunch-crunch-crunch of his spats on snow. Goldie checks the clock on the side of her bed and finds it to be exactly three A.M. It's an odd time, even for Scrooge.

Goldie slips on her winter coat and opens the door, leaning on the frame as she awaits him. Scrooge is woefully unprepared as he climbs the snowbanks, wearing his typical smock and spats. His cane is the closest thing he has to climbing equipment. Goldie's eyebrows raise.

"Bad night, old man?" she asks as he finally makes it up her drive. "I have to admit, I'm a bit surprised you managed to find this old shed. I only ever use it to lay low."

Scrooge grabs her shoulder and pulls her into a hug. Goldie stumbles forward with an unsightly yelp, green eyes wide. While it was true that she and Scrooge had explored various aspects of physical intimacy over the decades (and decades did typically pass between such things- not that Goldie minded), he'd never exactly been touchy-feely. "Scrooge?"

"Sorry," he murmured into her shoulder, making Goldie feel extremely uncomfortable. Scrooge McDuck didn't murmur. "I jus'... I couldn't be alone tonight."

That is highly worrying. "What's your game here, Scroogey?"

Scrooge pulls back. There's something painfully broken about him, from his misty eyes to his beak. Is it... is it wobbling? Goldie shakes the thought away as he spoke again. "Ye mind if I spend the night?"

Normally, Goldie would have a comeback for that, but tonight is clearly not a night of wits. Goldie nods and shuffles aside, shutting the door behind him. The old man hobbles over to her cot while she throws together a new fire to keep him from kicking the bucket. Goldie might be ambitious, but she didn't have any intent of being the woman to kill Scrooge McDuck. Hold him hostage, maybe, but not kill him.

"Della's gone," he whispers into the air. The wind and crackling of logs almost cover it up.

"Your niece?" she asks, surprised. Scrooge nods. "Huh. My bet was always on the other one."

"Not that kind of gone. Gone gone."

"Oh."

They lapse into silence. Goldie stands and takes a seat on her bed, keeping a decent distance between herself and Scrooge. She still wasn't quite willing to believe this wasn't some sort of new trick to get her guard down. It wouldn't be the cruelest one Goldie's had used on her, and vice versa. But then Scrooge's shoulders jump, and his chin touches his chest, and she realizes he's crying.

Scrooge McDuck is crying in front of her.

"Donald left with her boys," he says into his fists. "They aren't coming back."

Goldie doesn't say anything a moment. She slowly reaches out to touch his hand. "Look, moneybags. I'm going to have to be real with you. This is a terrible tragedy, and you've been through a lot. But me?" She shakes her head. "I'm not cut out for this comforting stuff."'

Scrooge wipes some tears away. "I didnae come here fer comfort. I jus'... I needed someone with me fer the night."

"What about Duckworth?"

"Anyone but Duckworth." A humorless chuckle gurgled past his teeth. "I think he's mad at me too."

Goldie still isn't quite sure what to do. None of any of this struck her as the McDuck's way of handling things. She's only seen him cry once or twice before, and never out of grief- one was powerful onions, and the other was from pain. She quickly realizes that freezing to death won't help with anything and guided him onto his side, pulling the blanket over them. Goldie's winter coat shifts awkwardly against her skin as she pulls him against her chest, effectively making him the little spoon.

"I'm ol' and tired, Goldie," he sighs. "I think it's finally time I hang up me spats."

"You? Retire?" Goldie snorts. "I don't think it's in your nature."

"We'll see." Scrooge rolls over with some difficulty. "What about yew, O'Gilt? Won't be too long 'fore yer classified as a living fossil."

"I suppose it takes one to know one."

Scrooge snorts. The banter seems to be doing him some good. "Did yew know that I once had a weddin' ring prepared fer yew?"

Goldie's eyes lit up. "Did you? And where might said ring be?"

"Long gone. I didn't want to give yew a new gold gambit to steal."

"It's not stealing if it's for me, now, is it?"

He shook his head, the whiskers on his cheeks tickling her face. "Yew and I weren't meant fer the ol' ball and chain anyway. Jus' imagine it- one roof, one name, kids and the picket fence." His beak wrinkles. "Yuck."

"Oh, I dunno. I always thought I'd be pretty good with kids."

"Pretty good with their lunch money, maybe." Scrooge shifts onto his back, restless and emotionally drained. Goldie did the same, mostly to even out blanket space. "Ye ever regret not getting a squalling brat to yer name?"

"I seem to recall you getting teared up over losing three of said brats a few moments ago," she replied effortlessly, knitting her hands together over her midsection. "Oh, I dunno. I always thought it might be fun to adopt a child. I could raise them to be quite the sidekick." Goldie reached out to shove his arm. "But, then, what would I have you for?"

"Aye, what would you have me fer?" he echoes. Scrooge buries his face in her shoulder again, this time without the tears, and lets out a long breath. "Thank ye, Goldie. I needed this."

"Mhm," Goldie says, unconvinced. "Let's just not make a habit of this. We're about as built for sharing a bed as we are getting married."

"It's not my fault yer a blanket hog."

"Blanket theft is the one kind of theft I'm innocent of, Scroogey, and don't you forget it."

Author's Note: I'm a simple woman. I see a new, interesting character that I've never seen before and I write a short thing for her to explore my writing ability with said character.

That said, I really like Goldie! I never knew the original, though, so I didn't really have any expectations. This probably isn't even close to canon tho- Goldie and Scoorge both agreed that it'd been a long time ago that they'd last met, and for ducks as old as them that was probably waaay before Della happened.

-Mandaree1