Author's Note: Yes, I am in love with the new DuckTales reboot and yes, I spend way too much time thinking about this family. After I finished season 1, my goal was to get this done BEFORE season 2 began (and inevitably did something to make this non-canon). This is my personal take on how Della's relationship with her kids may have started out and how she may have justified some of her actions that seem rather selfish, despite being a good person. So without further ado, here's the duck family angst that nobody asked for.

Disclaimer: Disney owns DuckTales and I'm just playing around with some ideas I have before the canon has the chance to say 'Nope, that's not canon' to me yet.

Decisions of Della Duck

180 Degrees

Pain. Raw, agonizing pain seared through Della Duck's head and heart as she breathed heavily through her clenched teeth. Her eyes were narrowed hatefully at the front door she'd just slammed shut and tears welled in the corners of her eyes. It was night out, but not late yet, and the only other sound apart from her heavy breathing came from the pounding rain outside. She couldn't hear any of it. The only thing she could hear was the blood pounding furiously in her ears. How? How had she let this happen?! She was Della Duck, a seasoned adventurer and niece to the richest duck in the world, Scrooge McDuck. She'd bested pirates, deathtraps, magical curses, and mechanical menaces, and always come out on top hardly the worse for wear. How had she been so… so easily duped by that… that…!

Della screamed in frustration and slammed her fist into the wall next to the door, pressing her forehead against it. She closed her eyes and the tears finally fell down her cheeks with a choked sob escaping her throat. She stood there crying against the wall for a few minutes before she made any attempt to try and recompose herself. It was a half-hearted effort and her mind was already racing in a panic. What was she supposed to do now? She couldn't do this alone, she knew that much, but who to tell? Her parents had passed away (1), she wasn't that close to her grandparents (and they were unreachable anyway), and Donald would be too angry to be useful. Mind, he'd be angry on her behalf, but it wasn't what she needed right now. There was really only one person she could talk to. She just hoped that he wasn't out adventuring without her or otherwise busy. Della pulled out her cellphone, flipped it open (2), dialed the number for Scrooge's personal line, and prayed to everything he valued that she didn't get this voicemail.

Her prayers were answered. "Good evening, Della. Everything alright, lass?" Scrooge asked, sounding pleasantly surprised.

Della's breath hitched in her throat and made it hard for her to talk. "Uncle Scrooge, please come get me."

The light tone was immediately replaced by diamond hardness with her uncle's next words. "Della, where are you right now?" It was a tone that promised dire revenge against anyone who had dared to go after one of his family members.

"I'm at home. I'm not captured or anything, just… I'm in trouble and I can't tell Donald…" she explained vaguely. This was not something to convey over the phone.

"Alright, hang tight, lass. I'll be there soon," Scrooge reassured her. "Do you want me to stay on the line with you?"

Della nearly smiled. "You're offering to spend extra money on a phone call? I'm touched, Uncle, but I'll be alright in the interim."

He muttered something that sounded like 'Cheaper these days than ten years ago' (3), but then said more audibly, "Okay, Della. I'm on my way now. I'll be arriving in about fifteen minutes or less."

With those parting words, Scrooge hung up and so did she, but without the phone to distract her, the memories and her own hurt feelings rushed to the forefront and she shut her eyes tight against them. She couldn't think about it right now. If she did, she would lose it, and she had to wait until she was in a safe place before she could do that.

After a seemingly-interminable wait, Della heard a sharp knock on her apartment door and she threw it open. Her Uncle Scrooge stood there on her doorstep looking wet and worried in the rain. "I'm here, Della."

The young aviator bit her lower beak and threw herself at him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she buried her face into his shoulder, but still refused to cry just yet. "Home," she whimpered and somehow, despite the rain and her voice being muffled in his coat, he heard her.

"Right away," Scrooge answered and led her out with an arm around her shoulders after she let go of his neck.

He directed her to the helicopter waiting in the parking lot out front and helped her inside. Most of the time whenever aircraft was involved, Della always insisted on being the pilot. Right now, she was more than happy to let her uncle do the flying (3). She wrapped her arms around her waist and glazed blankly out the windows as they helicopter slowly rose into the dark rainy sky. She took everything in with a detached sense of numbness. The only conscious thought she really had was that at least there was no lightning. That would definitely make flying harder in this weather and she didn't need Uncle Scrooge's piloting skills put to the test like that right now. Della was startled back to awareness when she felt a hand on her shoulder and saw that they had landed at McDuck Manor. She climbed out and Scrooge took her right to the front door of the mansion.

He opened the front door for her and they were halfway to the living room when she heard Mrs. Beakley gasp, "Oh dear, what happened?"

"Bentina, can you fetch a thick blanket and something warm for Della to drink?" Scrooge said.

"Right away, sir," Mrs. Beakley said and she disappeared into the kitchen.

Scrooge took her into the living room and set her down in her favorite comfy armchair. Neither of them cared that she was getting it wet. He then pulled over an old wooden chair leaning against the wall and placed it right in front of her. When he sat down on it, their knees were nearly touching.

"Okay Della, you're home and safe. Do you want me to call Donald and let him know you're alright?"

Della shook her head violently. "He doesn't know anything's up. He'll just freak out if you tell him."

"He'll freak out worse if he drops by your apartment and you're not home," Scrooge pointed out.

He had her there. "Fine, but I don't want to see him right now."

Scrooge nodded as he withdrew his cellphone from his red coat and dialed her older twin's number. After a long moment, he said, "Hey Donald, it's your Uncle Scrooge. In case you were thinking of paying your sister an unplanned visit, don't because she's staying at the mansion right now. She's safe and unharmed, but she also, quote, doesn't want to see you right now, unquote, and I'm pretty sure it's not because she's mad at you. I'll look after her. Take care, lad."

By the time Scrooge had finished leaving the message and put his phone away, Mrs. Beakley had arrived with the blanket and a steaming mug of something that smelled like tea. The housekeeper gave her the cup (it was tea, her favorite black raspberry to be specific) and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, tucking it in various places with expert skill to prevent it from slipping off and provide maximum comfort. Had motherhood taught her that or was it just in her nature?

"Thank you, Mrs. Beakley," Della muttered quietly.

"You're very welcome, dear. Is there anything else I can get you to make you more comfortable?" Mrs. Beakley asked her gently.

Della very nearly blushed out of embarrassment and ducked her head down to stare at her drink as she muttered, "A hug?"

Even with her eyes fixed intently on her tea, she saw the two aged ducks glance at each other worriedly in her peripheral vision. She loved her family dearly and was demonstrably affectionate, but she just always gave hugs, whether they were wanted or not. She never asked for them and never in such a timid manner either, but then she felt Mrs. Beakley's strong-muscled arms wrap around her and hold her tight, her massive warmth already seeping into her through the blanket. Such a description was generally more appropriate for a man than a woman, but Della was only too happy for such a large, full-bodied hug to come from another woman. She felt safe and untouchable within her arms, and for the first time ever, she wondered if that was how Mrs. Beakley's daughter had felt growing up. It was a wonderful feeling.

Mrs. Beakley eventually pulled away and Della thanked her again. Mrs. Beakley nodded, offered her anything else she needed while she was there, and left the living room. In the silence that immediately followed, Della drank some of the tea and felt the warmth seeping into her chest, but now there was nothing to distract her from the gaping pit of despair she'd been warding off just over half an hour now. She was physically safe, she was with family, everyone was aware of her location, and she had ready access to various resources and creature comforts. The only thing left now was… the reason she was here…

And Uncle Scrooge decided to jump right into the matter, "Della, what happened, lass? And don't you dare tell me you're alright, because we both know you're not."

She had to tell him. She didn't want to tell him. She needed to tell him. Her beak seemed glued shut.

Sensing that she wasn't inclined to speak just yet, Scrooge said, "Were you hurt physically?"

Della shook her head.

"Mentally and/or emotionally?"

She swallowed and nodded.

"Se-?"

"-No," she cut him off with a shake of her head before he could finish that thought. She heard the relieved exhale and saw some of the tension slip out of his bony frame. Yes, she was hurt, badly even, but it was not the worst-case scenario he had begun envisioning. Della took another sip of her tea, using it as liquid courage without the involvement of alcohol, and said, "Uncle Scrooge, do you love me?"

Scrooge looked taken aback. "Of course, I do! You know that!"

"Even if I screwed up in a major life-changing kind of way?"

He reached out to grab her shoulders, looking downright alarmed. "Lass, what could you have possibly done that you would think I'd no longer love you?"

Here, Della averted her eyes and fidgeted with the handle of the mug. "… I'm with egg," she whispered.

A heavy silence descended between uncle and niece following her words. She was a duck and once a female duck reached maturity, she would lay many eggs in her lifetime that would never hatch into ducklings. As such, an adult female duck only ever said those words, 'with egg', when her eggs were fertile. It was obvious early on when they were. Grandma Duck had told her that within two weeks, fertile eggs were much heavier than the infertile ones.

Even if Scrooge hadn't had sisters, he'd been around on this planet long enough to understand the nuances of her wording. He took her tea mug from her hands and set it on the table next to her. "Oh, Della, come here, dear," he said gently as he leaned forward and wrapped his thin, wiry arms around her blanket-cocooned body. "I may have hatched in 1867 in poor, rural Scotland, but this is 2006 urban America. The world has changed greatly since then, some of it for the better, and I don't love you any less for being egg gravid out of wedlock. Is that what you were worried about?"

Della was too choked with emotion to speak, so she nuzzled into her uncle's chest in affirmation.

"Two weeks?" he guessed. When she looked up at him in surprise, he gave her a sheepish smile. "That's what your mother said about the difference in eggs once I was back on speaking terms with her."

That was right. She'd nearly forgotten that before she and Donald had been dropped off at Scrooge's mansion when they were ten years old, Uncle Scrooge had been a prickly, reclusive old man that hadn't talked to the family in decades, and nobody had been keen to try and reach out to him either. Della no longer remembered the circumstances of why or how she and Donald had ended up with their miserly uncle as a babysitter for a couple hours, but it had ended up being the best couple of hours ever! Scrooge had become such a large and important figure in her life that she couldn't even imagine it without him.

His slight smile faded and his brow furrowed in consternation. "And… do I know the father?"

She had to think about that one. "He was my most recent boyfriend. Did I ever introduce you to Billard Shelldon?"

Now Scrooge was the one thinking. "Maybe…?" he said at last. "Was he the health nut who insisted ducks should only eat greens and worms?"

"No, that was Jerry. Ten months ago. Bill was in college working on his social science degree. He usually wore a sweater vest and his hair was long, about shoulder length, with his bangs half-covering one of his eyes-"

"Oh, aye, I remember him now!" Scrooge interrupted suddenly and looked annoyed. "He was that lazy deadbeat bumming off his folks' finances to pay his way into college without exerting any effort into his own- wait…" he stopped mid-rant and stared critically down at her. "You said 'was' your boyfriend. How long exactly has he been a 'was'?"

Della internally winced at the brutally-accurate summation. If only she'd been willing to listen early on, but they were at the crux of the matter now. And knowing her Uncle Scrooge, he had a fairly good idea of why she was here. It was time for her to be completely open without him all but dragging the truth out of her. Della pulled out of his hug and stared down at her hands now clasped together on her bony knees.

"Maybe we weren't being as careful as we should have, but as of yesterday, I was certain the egg was fertile. I honestly didn't know how he'd react, but the egg was his and I wasn't going to hide it, no matter the cost," Della admitted heavily. "I invited him to the apartment tonight for dinner expecting anything from unconditional acceptance of the egg to outright rejection of it, and everything in between."

"I take it he did reject your wee duckling then?" Scrooge asked and shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Della."

If only it had been that simple. "Not at first, and this would be easier if he had," Della mumbled through gritted teeth and the tears that she'd been fighting back finally pricked at her eyes again. She didn't fight them anymore and now she just fought to keep talking coherently. "Bill was… overjoyed when I told him. I could hardly believe it… I'd expected the worst and I got the best. He held me gently and told me how happy he was to be a father… That, yes, he hadn't expected this so soon, but it had always been his lifelong dream since he was a child, himself… He promised to be by my side to support me through this, to help me raise our child, and then he asked me to marry him…" The tears were flowing freely now and her voice cracked through choked sobs. "I was flattered… overwhelmed… and I rejected him. We'd already screwed up by having an unplanned kid; I didn't want to further compromise his future by tying him down and then him resenting me for it later… I didn't want him to marry me just because I was having his kid and I told him so… I thought I was doing the right thing… And that was when he panicked and got angry…"

Scrooge hissed fearfully and his hands were back on her shoulders again. "Della, I know you already answered me, but I must insist: did he lay a hand on you at all because if he did, so help me, I will smite him with every dollar I own and maybe even pay someone to curse him with the full wrath of Clan McDuck."

It wasn't funny. Nothing about this situation was funny and Scrooge was being completely serious, but Della burst out laughing in spite of herself. "No, he didn't. He really didn't," she reassured him, but then the laughter died in her throat and she shut her eyes tight. "but that was the moment he revealed his true colors. He was ecstatic to hear he was the father because if I married him, then he would have a chance at your fortune and never have to work a day in his life, but my rejection of his proposal caused him to freak out and slip up. You had him pegged right from the start, Uncle. A lazy, manipulative, money-leaching deadbeat is the father of my egg."

Della had finally run out of words to say, but not tears to shed and her final admission renewed their flow with vigor. She keeled forward until her body was completely bent over her thighs as pained sobs wracked through her form.

In the midst of her emotional turmoil, she felt a hand laid lightly on the top of her head and another gently stroked her back. "That may be true, but I'll make sure he never works in this town again," Scrooge said in a tone that was both low and dangerous. "I own all of Duckburg. I'll ruin him, run him out, and strip away all the legal rights he may have to you and your kids, and the rest of the family through you. I won't let him get away with hurting you again and this will be a warning to anyone else who dares think of trying to steal my fortune by sneaking in through my niece or nephew. They'll be sorry they ever crossed paths with me. Oh yes, very sorry indeed."

He meant every word he said because he was Scrooge McDuck and Della found that as terrifying as it was comforting. Maybe she would feel different later when her pain wasn't as fresh, but right now, she just couldn't bring herself to care about Billard's eventual fate. "Thank you, Uncle Scrooge," she said as she sat up wiping her eyes.

Scrooge sighed heavily, "There's really nothing to thank me for. I'd rather fix this instead, but damage control is all I can do."

Della laughed half-heartedly. "Maybe so, but your idea of damage control is a lot more than what most people can do for even their daughters, and I'm just your niece."

"There's no 'just' about it, Della," he said with such warmth in his accented voice, she almost felt she could do away with the blanket still wrapped around her.

For the first time since she'd confirmed her pregnancy, Della felt unburdened, light-hearted joy. She didn't want to blow it out of proportion… but that simple sentence may be the closest she ever got to a confession from Uncle Scrooge that he thought of her as a daughter. So she wasn't going to overreact inappropriately to something he hadn't actually said… except that he was definitely getting the biggest hug ever. She did just that, wrapping her arms around his middle and squeezing him tightly, willing it to convey every drop of affection she felt for this crazy, amazing, cool, exciting, caring old man.

"Alright, alright, ease up there, lass. Don't want to accidentally break these old bones of mine, now do we?" Scrooge teased.

"Ha! I'll only believe you're old when you retire from adventuring," Della challenged back, and both of them laughed at such an absurd notion.

"Well, I'm not sending you back to your apartment, so you're free to spend the night here for however long you need. I'm sure Mrs. Beakley's already been at work tidying up your old room."

"Great! I'll go see if she needs help," Della said as she shrugged the blanket off and downed the last of her tea in one gulp. She took a few steps in the direction of the stairs to the bedrooms, paused, doubled back, and kissed Uncle Scrooge on the cheek. "Thanks again, Uncle. And goodnight."

"Aye, goodnight, Della," Scrooge said with a soft smile and Della completed her retreat from the room.

As soon as Della left the living room, Scrooge's cellphone rang and when he looked at the number calling, he recognized it was Donald. "I told the lad what was going on so he wouldn't panic, and now he's calling me in a panic," he groaned and answered his nephew's call.

Lots of theories abound on who Huey, Dewey, and Louie's dad is and with good reason. The biggest thing to consider is that yes, nobody ever mentions the dad, but unlike with Della, Huey, Dewey, and Louie don't seem even the least bit curious about who their dad is. Throughout season one, Dewey puts in all of this effort to find out what happened to their mom, his brothers are upset with him for keeping what he's learned a secret, and all three of them are extremely upset with Scrooge for playing a part in their mom not being a part of their lives. But their dad? With all of this mom-secret-searching going on, it's natural to think that their dad would be a subject of interest too, but no. His existence isn't even suggested, as if they could care less that they had a biological dad or not. This tells me that whether their dad is physically dead or alive, he's dead to the family, which means Huey, Dewey, and Louie were probably accidental babies and that informed how I wanted to portray Della in this fic.

I kinda let it run away from a little at the end with the parental fluff. I just love seeing Scrooge taking on a parental role and I figure Della and Donald were the first ones to get him to open up into that role in the DuckTales 2017 universe, and he definitely has a major soft spot for Della. Losing her caused him to go nearly bankrupt, estrange him from the rest of his family (including Della's sons) for ten years, and do everything to hide her very existence except for a single secret room in the library of the Money Bin that I can only describe as a shrine he had built entirely dedicated to her memory. Oh yeah. Don't even try to tell me that losing Della didn't break him.

(1) I have no freaking clue if Hortense and Quackmore are still alive in the series or, if they're not, when they died, so I'm just presuming that Della's and Donald's parents are both dead by the time this story takes place.

(2) I don't remember when smartphones started being commonplace items, but I remember that fliphones were still pretty common back in 2007, so it's not unreasonable to assume that's probably what Della had. I'm highly-amused that Scrooge still uses one in 2017 (though I can't blame him. I only upgraded to a smartphone from my old fliphone in 2016 because I needed a better texting feature and picture resolution for my job, otherwise I'd still be using a fliphone).

(3) Not sure when Duckworth died, but I doubt he would have been flying helicopters anyway. Regardless, I'm pretty sure Launchpad wasn't working for Scrooge at the time (and he definitely wouldn't have been flying the helicopter anyway because Scrooge had no idea Launchpad was a pilot in the pilot episode of season one).