Chapter Text
By the time the sun had set on the day he’d gotten the letter, Scrooge McDougal was on the first boat back to Scotland he could catch.
In hindsight, it would have been much more efficient, and an incredible save of money to have simply manned the ship he had bought back to Scotland, but grief is a funny thing.
The letter he had received from Matilda had been short, and the speech nearly illegible, but Scrooge had understood.
So much as he didn’t want to.
And in not wanting to think about what he had to, Scrooge took to musing about his sisters.
Hortense, who had only been nine the last time he’d seen her (and ever so younger when he’d first left Glasgow!), was still the same fiery girl, her letters spoke to as much, and still, the only woman he was afraid of, he gathered.
Tilda had always been a quiet soul with a mediator personality, which fit nicely with Hortense’s fury and Scrooge’s stubborn penny-pinching behavior.
He sighed. Well, there’s no place like home. Even when the reason for going was less than optimal.
The boat docked at about six in the morning, though the day of the week Scrooge couldn’t say, from the look of the multicolored sunset and lack of people.
Unfortunately, because of his quick departure, Scrooge had had no time to send off a letter explaining when he would arrive, and it was doubtful that it would have reached its destination in time anyways.
He lugged his single suitcase off of the boat (it was quite overpacked) and made for dry land.
He wobbled a bit, to his displeasure. He had never really gained good sea legs despite his near-constant traveling by boat.
Luckily, home wasn’t so far away, and he wouldn’t have to walk far.
That wouldn’t have boded good, he had been awake nearly the entire journey.
Unluckily, he still had to continue to lug his suitcase all the way up the hill on which their home stood. At the door, Scrooge hesitated to knock. It was an ungodly hour in the morning, but he did have to get inside eventually.
Hopefully, the letter in which she begged him to come back to Glasgow meant Matilda wouldn’t be too shocked when she saw him at their door.
He raised his fist and knocked twice, not knowing what to feel. He hadn’t really stopped to feel anything since he’d booked it for the next boat to Scotland.
The door opened to reveal a young red-haired woman. The color of her hair reminded him a bit of his mother’s, but he didn’t have time to be distracted. His mother dying was the reason he was here, anyway.
“Excuse me, but I'm here ter see me auld-“
“Scrooge?”
For a second, Scrooge wondered why this person knew his name, and why they spoke it as if they knew him until it clicked.
“Hortense?”
The girl (woman now?) in front of him bore no resemblance to the little nine-year-old Hortense he left behind after his last visit, although, when he looked close her hair and eyes were just the same.
She was just older.
There were so many things he wanted to say, even for a man like Scrooge, but for a lack of words he said, “Well, get yer arse out of the doorway, then.”
Hortense didn’t react in any way that was expected, she just stared. She was too stunned to be angry, and Scrooge was too dumbfounded to say anything else.
Hortense moved out of the doorway, and Scrooge stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The house, it seemed, had barely changed at all.
It had never been ramshackle, simply quaint, and it was no different now. His father’s armchair still stood in front of the fireplace, and the few pictures the family had been able to afford to take during his childhood hung in the same places on the pale blue wall. His shoe-shining kit stood in the corner where he’d left it (he’d brought it back his last visit) and Hortense was there.
It was almost unbelievable how much she’d changed and grown. The last time he’d actually seen her she had been short and still occasionally said strange things like “glxblt”.
The McDougals had taken quite a few more pictures with the money Scrooge’d sent them, yes, but they were nothing compared to seeing his real-life sister who had just nine years old in his head, plus he hadn’t had the time to look at all of them.
He glanced over at Hortense, who still had an incredibly stunned look about her, and before he could have said ”Keep the heid, Hortense” she was practically hanging off of him.
At which point he actually did say, “Keep the heid, Hortense,” while awkwardly patting her on the back and holding her up as she, surprisingly, cried. Hortense had only cried angry tears ever since she’d been out of diapers.
The other big thing was that Hortense had somehow grown taller than him. She’d been barely up to his waist the last time, granted she had been a child, but it was surprising nonetheless that the - twenty-one? (Jesus) year-old woman was at least a few centimeters taller than him.
“‘S alright Hortense, don’t cry,” he let out awkwardly. He didn’t comfort women, even less his younger sisters, on a daily basis.
The entire situation reminded him a bit of carrying around a small, weeping Hortense when she wasn’t yet able to walk.
Eventually, she stopped crying and straightened herself just as Scrooge brushed off his coat.
“Why’ve ye turned up in the middle of the night then?” Hortense straightened her dress. “Or the early morning hours.”
“Thought I’d show up an’ scare ye to yer wit's end, aye,” he said with a wan smile. “No, I’m here for Ma.”
“Course.”
The two stood in silence for a few seconds staring at each other until a crash was heard from somewhere upstairs.
Both siblings whipped their heads towards the source of the noise at near the speed of light.
“Christ almighty- aye, I’ll get ye for this Hortense!" came the yell, unmistakably Matilda McDougal. Neither of the siblings had much time to react further before Matilda came thundering down the stairs.
“Aye—“ and Matilda had descended upon the sitting room. “Hortense McDougal—“
Matilda opened her mouth to rant on further, about what he could only guess, before she noticed Scrooge and gaped.
Which was the moment that everything decided to sink in. With a start, Scrooge realized that he was here. Really here, with his sisters who he hadn’t seen in nine full years.
Scrooge tore up a little, just the tiniest bit, and he nearly started crying, although he didn’t, because he was a McDougal man.
“Scrooge?“
And so it was Matilda’s turn to be practically blue in the face out of sheer shock. It broke Scrooge’s heart, and probably Hortense’s as well, because Matilda sounded like she had broken hers.
Scrooge was practically paralyzed, out of sheer emotion, and when Matilda approached him he could again barely react.
“Scrooge..” She reached out to touch his arm as if testing to make sure he was really there. Unlike Hortense, Matilda had been about the same age as Scrooge the last time he’d been home, and most likely she even remembered him better. He felt more choked up than ever.
“Tilda..”
He leaned down slightly and pulled her closer to him. Unlike Hortense, Matilda was actually shorter than him, and he had to lean down to embrace her. At some point, he didn’t know when, he must have placed down his suitcase because he mysteriously wasn’t holding it, but he couldn’t seem to care much about that.
It sounded like Matilda had started crying, which nearly set Scrooge off as well. He could hear Hortense sniffling in the corner and held Matilda closer.
“I don’t like ye right now, Scrooge, I’ll have ye know,” Matilda piped up, her voice breaking. “Ye done leave us for near a decade and run off for nine years more!”
She hugged him harder and sniffled. “Yer a real odd one, I hope ye know.”
He smiled sadly. “Aye, Matilda. Ye could be right.”
“I am right.” He could feel her smile into his shoulder.
“Both of ye are odd in the head as far as I know,” came Hortense’s voice from off to the side.
Scrooge looked up, really looked, for the first time at his youngest sister.
“Aye, Hortense. Aye.”