now you're over there, & i'm way over here

Summary: Goldie has a bad night.

Word count: 5031

Warnings: None

1897; White Agony Creek

DAY SEVENTEEN

Seventeen straight days spent with one person was a lot. A lot a lot. Scrooge hadn’t spent that amount of time in close quarters with anyone since he left Scotland. Goldie couldn’t say the same, but she’d certainly never spent so much time with someone who hated her as much as Scrooge did. Not that she didn’t hate him, too, but she was used to hating people who didn’t hate her back. It was complicated. It was awkward.

And she couldn’t stop thinking about her saloon. Their small talk was limited - mostly she listened to Scrooge blabber on about his family and Scotland and his ancestral castle that he planned to rebuild (again, again, again) while she spoke almost exclusively of the Blackjack and how she couldn’t believe how much money she was missing out on being stuck in the middle of nowhere.

A comment which almost always led to Scrooge reminding her that it was her own fault she was stuck out there with him, to which she’d rebuke that he started the argument that caused the avalanche, and then they’d yell at each other for a minute before storming off in different directions and going about the rest of their day.

It was a pattern that was getting tiring for the both of them. So tiring, in fact, that on the seventeenth day of cohabitation when Goldie wondered aloud whether or not her saloon was still standing, Scrooge didn’t retort with his usual insult and finger-pointing.

Instead, he simply said, “I’m sure it’s fine. Ye cannae be the only competent person who works there.”

Goldie looked up from her sad plate of sourdough bread and cold canned beans and stared at Scrooge, who was chowing down without paying her any notice. “...I suppose that’s true. I just didn’t really leave anyone in charge, is all.”

“Don’t ye have a plan for your business…” Scrooge said between bites, “...if ye leave? Or die?”

She raised an eyebrow at him for the morbid question. “I don’t plan my business around my potential demise.”

He pointed his spoon at her. “What about your family?”

“Huh?”

“They could claim ownership of your saloon or the bank could sell it and send the money back to them.”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Goldie scoffed. “That’s my saloon and my money. It’s not going to anyone else. Ever.”

Scrooge glared at her. “Well that’s just ridiculous. You’ll have to sell it eventually...you cannae plan on spendin’ your entire life in Dawson. This gold rush will only last so long!”

She glared back and then turned her glare down to her food again. “I know that,” she grunted. “I just prefer to focus on the present and not worry so much about the future.”

He frowned and ate the last of his breakfast. “There’s no business sense in that.”

“And what do you know about business, sourdough?!” Goldie huffed, feeling more comfortable being angry than she'd been for the rest of their conversation. “You’ve worked odd jobs your whole life and now you’re here. You’ve never owned property and you’ve certainly never run a business!”

Scrooge took a long sip of coffee and stood up, deciding between ignoring her and dignifying that with a response. “You dinnae always need experience to know what’s right, Goldie.”

Goldie glared at him. “Ugh, you sound like such a man.”

He was surprised by her response and turned from the counter to give her a confused and slightly angry expression. “Is that supposed to be a bad thing?”

She pushed away from the table, feeling like she’d eaten enough to keep her going for the day. “Always assuming you’re right about everything,” Goldie grumbled as she headed out the door.

Scrooge watched her walk away and then turned back to his dishes. She just left him confused all the time. For once, he tried to have a normal conversation with her, and somehow it still ended up with one of them angry with the other. Sometimes they’d have a nice moment and he’d almost consider Goldie a friend, but then things would go back to normal in an instant.

He sighed and grabbed Goldie’s unfinished meal, gulping it down for himself. It was for the best, he supposed, since she was just spying on him for Soapy. Trying to genuinely befriend her (or better yet, bring her to his side of the McDuck-Slick feud) was pointless.

---

Goldie was frustrated. Anytime she thought Scrooge and her could move past hating each other, they just went right back to it. Seventeen days. Seventeen. Usually the men she stayed with would just fuck her when things got frustrating between them, but that was pretty clearly not happening with this particular sourdough.

Not that the thought even crossed her mind, of course. Not recently. All they did was argue. Even the almost-nice moments they had together still had an undercurrent of anger. And Goldie just wanted to go back home. Back to Dawson and her saloon and her employees-slash-kind-of-sort-of-maybe-friends. She missed doing shows and being adored and drinking booze and having a real mattress.

She squeezed the pick-axe in her hand and sighed. Maybe she was picking fights with him because of the stress of living like she used to, back when she was poor and on her own. But he wasn’t exactly trying to charm her, either. Goldie knew he didn’t trust her - why should he? - but he seemed to be grappling with himself over it, which was making him all the more agitated. Was he so virginal that he couldn’t understand being attracted to someone he didn’t like? She’d experienced it so many times in her life that she couldn’t even imagine the confusion.

Not that she was attracted to him, per se. But...well.

Goldie started mining to get her thoughts back in order. She didn’t know what was going on in her head, but she knew she was treading on dangerous ground.

---

A few hours of hard work later and Goldie realized that ‘dangerous ground’ wasn’t just a metaphor. Scrooge had come out to join her only an hour or so after she’d started working, and they didn’t speak at all - just worked on their own little plots and tried not to focus on one another.

But it was a particularly sunny day, which reflected off the snow and made it weirdly hot outside. So after two hours of work, Scrooge started to strip. He took off his scarf and tied the top half of his coat around his waist, so it wasn’t anything significant (especially since Goldie had already seen him naked), but she found her eyes drawn to the scars on his back and the pulsing of his muscles as he went back to work.

He did have particularly muscular arms. Most miners did, but...not like that.

Goldie’s mind fell back to the thoughts she was having earlier in the day - about attraction and sex and oh god he looks so good and then she thought about how she hadn’t been touched at all by another person since she first got there and she was starting to feel the loss of friendly contact and maybe she could get something to happen with McDuck since he was definitely attracted to her but he was so confused about it and did she really want to deal with all that and teaching him how to do everything and -

Her thought train was cut off by a loud cracking sound. She couldn’t place where it was coming from - it sounded like a tree, but there were tons of trees around. Goldie turned in the direction she thought it came from and scanned the area.

Scrooge, meanwhile, had been mining very close to an old dead tree and not paying attention to how each swing of his axe seemed to loosen the roots and tug them out of the ground. He didn’t notice at all until the sound of a loud crack, which he immediately realized was the trunk breaking on one side under the weight of the rest of the tree falling.

Falling in Goldie’s direction.

He wasn’t exactly a mathematical genius, but Scrooge could tell from the size of the tree that it would land on Goldie when it fell. And of course, of course, she wasn’t paying attention.

“Damn it!” Scrooge yelled as he tossed his axe to the side and rushed towards her.

Goldie was just turning back towards him when she saw the tree falling. Before she had time to move herself out of the way, she was tackled by Scrooge. They landed just out of reach of all the tree’s long branches.

It reminded her of the dynamite incident. Just a bit. But this time there was no smoke or dust that needed to clear, and though Scrooge’s arms weren’t wrapped around her, she did find herself entranced by the view as she looked up.

He had her pinned underneath him and his hat had flown off once again, leaving her to stare at his cute, messy hair and his strong arms and oh god he was so sweaty and why was that so hot for her? She really hadn’t been touched in so long it was starting to affect her brain.

But he smelled so good. Like sweat and dirt and...and beans? How did that smell good? That should’ve smelled disgusting. It didn’t make any sense!

Goldie’s hands reached up to his shoulders - partly for balance but partly because she just really wanted to hold him there - and he looked down at her in concern.

“Are you alright?”

She blinked up at him and nodded slowly.

Scrooge made an unsatisfied face and, clearly not aware of their current position, brought a hand up to her face. “Goldie, your face is completely red. Are you gettin’ sick? Is that why ye didn’t notice the tree? You know I dinnae have any medicine!”

Goldie shook her head and bent one of her legs, accidentally brushing her calf up against his. Scrooge looked confused and turned to see what touched him, then slowly followed the line of her leg up to her body and then back up to her face.

The look of realization on his face was entertaining enough to distract Goldie from how turned on she was. She smiled as he suddenly jumped up and backed away from her.

“Y-you should go back to the cabin!” Scrooge said suddenly. “If ye take it easy the rest of today, then you’ll be better by tomorrow and can work twice as hard to make up for the lost time!”

Goldie sat up slowly and stared at him. He was so red in the face and cute and sexy and y’know what? Yeah. Maybe she did need to get away from him. “...yeah, alright,” she mumbled as she stood up slowly. “Just don’t expect me to make you dinner.”

Scrooge exhaled loudly and rolled his eyes and Goldie was too far away to understand what he said when he finally responded, but it was probably just some half-hearted insult that she didn’t need to hear anyway. What she did need was some time to herself and that was definitely her only opportunity for it.

---

After that alone time she so desperately needed - which only took about five minutes and Goldie was extremely embarrassed by that fact - she realized something significant: Scrooge left her alone in his cabin. The cabin that contained his gold nugget and his deed and any other important treasures he’d have.

Her heart started to race as she looked towards the woodbin entrance. Would he have it all in there with him? In some little treasure chest? A safe? Probably just a box, if she had to guess. Something similar to what his letters from home were in.

Unable to stop herself, Goldie started to snoop. And it took her only a little more than an hour to find Scrooge’s hiding spot, thanks to her stepping on an especially creaky floorboard. It was, as she expected, a simple little box. Inside was his giant gold nugget, the deed to his claim, and a dirty old dime. Goldie shrugged at the coin and reached for the gold again, wanting to feel its weight in her hands once more.

It felt heavier than it did last time.

---

Scrooge was frustrated after Goldie left. He was frustrated in a lot of familiar ways and one or two unfamiliar ways as well. Something about her sweaty, reddened face underneath him was an image he couldn’t really get out of his head. And he knew why that was but he also didn’t completely understand why that was and he knew he should know but he just didn’t have any experience with those sorts of feelings or sensations and he didn’t know what to think about any of it.

Except that he liked it and he didn’t want to like it.

So he went back to work. Harder than before, swinging his axe over and over and over again for almost another hour before the sun beating on his feathers was getting to be too much and he felt genuinely exhausted. He hadn’t worked for nearly as long as usual, but all the excitement with the tree got his heart racing and maybe he needed a break.

A drink of water, perhaps. Nothing crazy. He’d just go back to the cabin, see if Goldie was feeling any better, get some water, and then get back to work.

Thinking she might have gone back to sleep, Scrooge crept quietly into the cabin, not even letting the door squeak as he entered. He immediately stepped towards the bedroom and peeked inside...only to see it was empty. He opened the door the rest of the way and looked around, confused by the absence of Goldie in the room.

He wondered briefly if she was outside taking a bath - when the sun was high in the sky was the best time to do it, after all - and he blushed at the thought. He wasn’t exactly going to check on her if that was the case. So, with a shrug, Scrooge headed back into the kitchen to grab a drink.

As he reached for his cup, he finally noticed that someone was in the woodbin.

He squeezed the cup in his hand as he felt rage spreading throughout his chest. He really thought, for even a second, that they could be anything other than enemies? He was Scrooge McDuck, and he knew better than to trust someone like her!

Scrooge rushed to the woodbin entrance and saw Goldie with her grubby little fingers holding onto his gold and his deed and he couldn’t take it. “YOU DIRTY, LYIN' THIEF!”

Goldie clearly hadn’t noticed him in the cabin and jumped in surprise, dropping the items back into their box and turning around to face his wrath head-on. She leaned back against her hands and had a fearful look in her eyes.

It didn’t make Scrooge feel any better to see her fear. He took small, angry steps towards her and continued to yell. “I gave you shelter! I gave you my bed! I let you stay here when I could’ve just left you to die out in the cold! And this is what you do?!”

“W-wait, Scrooge! I-”

“Dinnae try to come up with an excuse! I know exactly what you’re doin'! You and Soapy are out to ruin me and you can’t! I’m Scrooge McDuck and I’m stronger and smarter and sharper than the two of you combined so dinnae think for a second that I’ll let you get one over on me!”

Goldie’s back and shoulders smacked against the wall as Scrooge continued to get closer, practically screaming in her face. She wondered for the first time in many, many days if this was the breaking point and Scrooge was going to attack her. She didn’t agree that he was smarter and sharper than her, but stronger? Yeah. She’d have no chance.

Scrooge’s hands slammed into the wall on either side of her head and she flinched, prepared for the worst.

Instead, he just brought his face oh-so-close to hers and quietly but menacingly whispered, “Get. Out.”

She opened one eye in fearful anticipation. “Wh...what?”

“GET OUT OF MY CABIN!” Scrooge screamed, pointing towards the door. “You’re not welcome here, O’Gilt! I dinnae care what you do or where you go, but you’re not stayin’ here any longer!”

Goldie was still a little scared, but on instinct she responded with anger to match. “Where the hell am I supposed to go?! If I can’t get back to Dawson I’ll die of exposure out there!”

“I dinnae care!” Scrooge yelled, reaching down and squeezing her arm to lift her up. Goldie struggled against his grip as he pulled her towards the door and tossed her outside.

She landed on her butt and glared up at him, face hot with indignation and hands balled into angry fists.

Scrooge simply glared down at her before slamming the door shut.

Goldie waited a moment before standing up and slamming her fists against the door. “Scrooge! Come on! It’s not what you think!”

No response.

Unable to stop herself, Goldie kicked the door and yelled, “F#@% YOU, MCDUCK!” before stomping off towards the path that would lead her back to Dawson. Maybe, if she was lucky, the snow had melted enough for her to make it back through.

---

It had not.

Out of desperate frustration, Goldie had tried to make her way through the several feet of snow that still stood between her and her freedom back in Dawson, but after a few hours of struggling all she ended up with was cold, calloused hands and feet and sweat and grime coating her feathers and hair and clothes.

The walk from where she was back to Scrooge’s cabin was a little over an hour, and Goldie knew by the time she got back it’d be almost dark. If he didn’t let her in she really could die out in the cold. She had to get back in that cabin.

As she headed back and the sun went down, the wind picked up and the darkness made the cold all the more chilling. Goldie hugged herself tight and continued on, thinking back to the last time she’d been out in the cold with nowhere to go. It’d been a long time and she wasn’t happy to find herself in that situation once again.

All she could think about during her walk back was Scrooge and his stupid gold nugget. It’s not like she was going to steal it - where the hell would she have taken it? But she couldn’t exactly blame him for freaking out considering where they started this whole situation in the first place. If she was being completely honest with herself - which she rarely was - Goldie wasn’t sure why she’d gone looking for it at all. Unless she planned on killing Scrooge, there was no chance of her getting that gold and getting back to Dawson without him coming after her.

Despite everything in her life, she wasn’t a killer. Soapy probably didn’t think there was a big leap from drugging and thieving to taking lives, but Goldie didn’t think she could ever go that far. And she didn’t think Scrooge was the type, either. Even though he said he didn’t care if she died, she had a distinct feeling that he’d take pity on her anyway.

Or maybe it was more of a hope than a feeling. Either way, Goldie didn’t have any other option, so she had to keep going.

As the cabin came into view again, Goldie couldn’t stop thinking about how this had to be the coldest night they’d had in weeks and her feathers were turning into little icicles. With the small amount of sunlight left, she could see her breath on every exhale. It was so cold she was getting exhausted much faster than she should’ve and Goldie knew she’d be sick in the morning...if she made it there at all.

The sun was completely gone by the time she reached the cabin door. Goldie reached out a shivering hand and knocked on the door three times.

“Scrooge! Come on!” Goldie yelped, hoping he wasn’t asleep. If he chose to purposefully ignore her, then at least there was a chance he’d take pity and open up.

She waited ten seconds before trying again. “Let me in! It’s freezing out here!”

There was a sudden gust of chilling wind as Goldie reached out to knock again, and she pulled her arm back to huddle back into herself. She shoved her hands into her armpits and hoped the walk she’d just enjoyed made her sweaty enough to keep her fingers from falling off.

She knocked on the door again, with her knee. “Scrooge McDuck!”

Goldie closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. “Please, Scrooge! Please!?”

After another thirty seconds without a response, Goldie took another deep breath and accepted the fact that he was asleep and she was probably going to die. What a stupid way to go. After everything she’d been through, she was just going to die homeless and frozen in the middle of nowhere.

She placed her hand on the cabin wall and started walking the perimeter, hoping she’d be able to feel a small bit of warmth when she hit the wall closest to the fireplace. Goldie sighed deeply when she made it back around to the front door and realized that Scrooge had built these walls too thick to let any heat out.

Good for him. Terrible for her.

Goldie pressed her back against the door and slid down to sit on her ass, knocking her head back and lightly knocking on the door over and over in an attempt to do something to distract herself from the cold.

Another rough gust of wind hit her and she cuddled into herself again. She wondered if Scrooge would bury her out here or take her body back to Dawson to be buried properly. She supposed it didn’t really matter either way, no one would be visiting her grave.

Exhausted from the cold and the fighting and the trek, Goldie closed her eyes.

---

Scrooge wasn’t heartless. He was asleep when Goldie first started knocking, but being the light sleeper than he was, he woke up by her second go around. But he was still pissed.

There was no explanation or apology that could make up for the betrayal of finding her with his most precious items. He kept those hidden away, so he knew she had to have been searching for them the entire time she was in the cabin. Everytime he left her alone, now he knew she was just getting ready to steal from him again.

So Scrooge rolled onto his side and pulled the blanket on top of himself with a huff. He was happy to have his bed back, even if it wasn’t much better than sleeping on the floor. The blanket was nice, at least.

He pulled it up to his face and frowned as he realized...it smelled like Goldie.

Sixteen nights under his blanket and now it smelled like her. And it wasn’t a particularly feminine smell - not like lavender or daisies or however books always described women smelling - it just smelled like sweat mostly. Sweat and...and the smell of winter. But it was her sweat.

He groaned in frustration. He was still so mad at her. But...what if she died? It would be his fault. She might be a snake and a scoundrel and a liar, but she didn’t deserve that.

Even with those thoughts in mind, Scrooge didn’t move from his spot on the bed. He didn’t have a lot of sadistic thoughts, but he figured she could stand the cold for a few more minutes.

But then he heard it. He heard her pathetic, quiet plea for help. Never in the seventeen days they’d been living together had he heard Goldie say ‘sorry’ or ‘please’. He’d assumed she had removed both words from her vocabulary in an effort to seem tougher. To hear it in such a sad, small voice...Scrooge huffed and sat up slowly.

Alright, fine. He’d let her back in. But he wasn’t going to be nice about it, that was for sure. And he was still going to wait a few more minutes. She was learning how to work hard and earn her own gold while living with him, but she still didn’t know the kinds of hardships and difficulties he’d dealt with his entire life. Sure, Goldie had never shared her life details with him, but if she had her own difficulties then he’d given her ample opportunity to talk about them. Scrooge could only assume that she'd had it easy most of her life. She probably came from a family with money - that’s why she had no interest in giving her saloon to them if she died and why she felt so entitled to things that didn’t belong to her.

Deciding it’d been almost long enough, Scrooge wrapped his blanket around his shoulders as he stood up, taking his time leisurely walking from the bedroom towards the front door.

There was a faint knocking sound coming from the door for a moment until it suddenly stopped, just as the sound of an angry squall smacked against his cabin. It shook the walls for just a moment and Scrooge didn’t move in fearful anticipation of something going wrong.

A few seconds later and everything was back to quiet normalcy, so Scrooge continued towards the door and pulled it open.

“Alright, O’Gilt, you can-”

Scrooge was cut off by Goldie’s crumpled body falling back, her head landing right at the tips of his feet. She was shivering all over, but not making any noise, and Scrooge could see frost forming on the ends of her hair.

“Shit! G-Goldie-?!” He knelt down and quickly put a hand against her arm. He pulled away; the cold felt almost as painful as a burn. Scrooge grabbed his blanket off his shoulders and swung it around Goldie’s body, wrapping it tightly around her and then dragging her further into the cabin.

He quickly shut the door and picked Goldie up to take her as close to the fireplace as possible. “You’re gonna be alright, Goldie. Okay? Are ye awake?”

Scrooge put her down in front of the fire and reached to the side to grab another piece of firewood to keep it going. He knew from reading and experience that the fire and blanket wouldn’t be enough - she was going to need his body heat to help keep herself warm. So Scrooge sat himself down, pulled Goldie into his lap, and wrapped his arms around her.

Her head was in the crook of his neck, shivering arms still crossed in front of her chest. Her knees were bent and her legs were shaking, but Scrooge was satisfied by the sound of her breathing evening out just the slightest bit.

“...Goldie?” he mumbled, shaking her lightly. “Goldie, dinnae fall asleep. Try to stay awake.” Scrooge sighed and squeezed her arms, rubbing up and down trying to get the feeling back into her feathers.

“I...I didnae, um…” Scrooge stared at the fire. “I didnae mean for this to happen to ye. I just wanted ye to know how mad I was! Er...how mad I am, still. I’m still mad! You’re still a lyin’ thief! But I...I didnae realize it’d be so cold tonight.”

Scrooge continued to ramble, hoping that Goldie was awake and listening and that his voice was keeping her from losing consciousness. He wasn’t an expert on avoiding hypothermia, but he’d read plenty about it before making his way to Dawson all those months ago.

He scooted them a little closer to the fire. While rubbing her arm with one hand, Scrooge instinctively reached his other hand down to rub one of her legs. Her skin was still freezing, but better than it was when he’d first pulled her inside. Scrooge was hopeful that he wouldn’t have this unnecessary death on his conscience after all.

Still talking - about nothing, anything, Scotland, mining, Soapy, betrayal - and Scrooge almost didn’t notice when Goldie’s hands twitched. She reached one hand up and gripped the collar of his shirt.

He put one of his hands on top of hers and glanced down at her face. Her eyes were opening slowly, just the tiniest bit, and Scrooge was enchanted by the way the melting ice glistened on her lashes.

“...hello,” Scrooge said awkwardly.

Goldie took a deep breath in and out, then her entire body shivered, and finally she turned around to glance at the fire. “Hey.”

“You seem better now.”

“Yeah,” Goldie said with a scoff. “...thanks for not letting me die, sourdough.”

Scrooge moved his hand down to her wrist and started to tug her away from him. “Since you’re conscious again, I’ll just leave the blanket with ye and go back to b-”

“Don’t go.”

His eyes widened and Scrooge stared down at her face, where he could see that Goldie looked surprised herself - almost as if she hadn’t known she was going to say that. He didn’t know how to respond and just loosened his grip on her wrist.

Goldie stuffed her face back into his neck and sighed. “...you’re warm.”

Scrooge blushed deeply, happy to know she couldn’t see it. Maybe he could stay with her for a while. Not the whole night. But just until she was back to full strength.

“...okay.” He wrapped his arms around her again and held her body against him, still in his lap. It was the most intimate position he’d ever been in in his entire life and Scrooge hated how all he could think about was how he was so glad she was safe.

DEFINITIONS:
- squall: a sudden gust of wind during a storm