Scrapbook

10 hours.

The car drive between Piedmont, California and Gravity Falls, Oregon took roughly ten hours. When they’d first made the trek by bus this summer Dipper had felt as if it dragged on even longer, if that was possible. Dipper had never been very good at sitting still for too long. He could read and write to keep himself occupied, but he couldn’t think properly if he couldn’t pace and a public bus was really not an environment conducive to productive thought anyway. He’d spent most of the drive looking out the window as they gradually exchanged shorelines and cities for a rural scenery until that also disappeared into endless woods and he’d had half the mind to ask if they were lost.

Mabel had jabbed his shoulder and told him to stop sulking, which really he hadn’t been, and happily talked his ear off about camping or something and meeting this weird old relative they hadn’t seen for years. Of course, things with Stan had turned out a lot better than he’d dared to hope, but he hadn’t known that at the time. The prospect of wasting months of the only summer vacation they’d get this year in some backwater town had been one he’d dredded. And so, he’d been stuck in a sweltering bus for the better part of a day with his sister obliviously chattering beside him and anxiety and resignation mixing into thick tar in the pit of his stomach.

Despite the far better seating arrangements in grunkle Stan’s car, and the small comfort of knowing what he was in for, this time the trip managed to feel far, far worse.

None of the car’s four occupants had spoken much for the better part of the trip. There was an unaccustomed silence that no amount of attempted casual banter seemed able to break, and Dipper honestly wasn’t sure he even wanted it broken. The silence felt strange and unfamiliar and distinctly wrong. No combination of Mabel, Stan and Ford should ever allow for this tense quietness. The car should be alive with jokes and bickering and gruff affection. Stan’s presence should be colourful and boisterous, Ford should be thinking aloud and pointing out the odd sights flying past the windows. The silence was wrong, but any attempt to break it had just made everything feel even more strange. Strange in a different way than Mabel’s sillyness or Ford’s six fingers. That strangeness was familiar. Comforting. This was strange like...

Like the idea of never going back home to Piedmont.

The whole situation was wrong.

“There’s a rest stop coming up.” Ford’s voice carried an unaccustomed softness as he turned to look at the twins in the backseat. Wary and low, matching his expression. Dipper didn’t turn his face from the window but did offer a small nod. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mabel look up from the mountain of sequins and construction paper in her lap and answer with a beaming smile and a thumbs up. It settled like acid in Dippers throat. He really hoped nobody would try to make him eat again when they stopped. He had managed to get half an apple in him after much coaxing from the two adults at breakfast, but had wormed his way out of anything more with a halfhearted excuse about carsickness. If nothing else it was a testament to the seriousness of the situation that Stan hadn’t made any warning quips about how Dipper had ‘better not throw up in his car’. Instead he’d just handed him a bottle of water with an uncharacteristically gentle pat on the head.

Mabel, on the other hand, was contentedly working her way through a jumbo-sized bag of candy in the seat beside him. A gift from their old classmates, alongside several sparkly cards full of ‘goodbyes’ and ‘good lucks’ and ‘sorry for your loss’. The cards were all addressed to Mabel -not that she hadn’t very readily offered to share- as if she was the only one moving to another state. The only one who’s life had been turned on its head. The only one who’d never see their parents again. All Dipper had was the card Wendy had given him when he and Mabel had gotten on the bus home this summer.

‘See you next summer’.

Dipper wished the reason they were heading back was another summer vacation, he really did. There was a point he’d gladly considered staying in Gravity Falls with Ford, and now he’d get to do exactly that. He didn’t even have to say goodbye to either Mabel or Stan to do it. But right now the fact that they were leaving California just made him want to puke.

As the car eventually slowed down and pulled up in the parking lot Dipper forced himself back from the window and shrugged his jacket back on. It was better to get this over with as fast as possible. Each stop along the way just felt like delaying the inevitable. Of course, there wasn’t really anything left to delay. Everything had finally been settled just a few days ago. That fact was both a blessing and a curse. Being caught up in custody hearings, talking to social services, and getting dragged from one distant relative to the next had made the last few months hell. But at least in all the chaos he hadn’t really had time to sit and think about what their parents being gone really meant for him and Mabel. There hadn’t been any time to feel sad, so at least that had been a small comfort.

At least it was until talk began of how he and Mabel might have to be separated if nobody was willing to take them both. Dipper had stared down a demon, yet the idea of him and Mabel growing up in different homes was by far more terrifying. As much as he hated the circumstances that made it necessary, he wouldn’t deny he was thankful to Stan and Ford for offering to take them in. Dipper had tried his best to keep up with the legal process, knowing what was going on at least gave him some small feeling of control, but it had become far too messy far too fast. He knew it hadn’t been easy, what with the criminal records and one of them until recently being legally dead, but he’d quickly gotten lost in all the details. In the end a mix of nobody else being able or willing to step up and their grandfather Sherman vouching for them had persuaded the authorities.

The engine quieted, and Dipper exited the car without making a fuss. His grunkles had given up their sailing dream for them. As much as he wanted to just stay curled up and hide from the world, he couldn’t be difficult with them.

As soon as he got out of the car Mabel followed with Waddles at her side. She rushed up to Stan and grabbed his hand. Mabel seemed to have gotten clingier since their parents died, but other than that she seemed just fine. Right away she was tugging Stan towards the store portion of the rest stop, chatting happily about wanting to get more soda for the rest of the drive and asking if he’d pretty please wait outside and watch Waddles for her so she could use the restroom. If anything, Stan looked more sad than she did.

Dipper moved to follow as a cold breeze caught him off-guard. The chill blew easily through his thin jacket, sending a shiver down his arms.

“Are you cold?” Ford asked carefully, coming up to join the boy’s side. Dipper made a noncommittal noise and pulled his jacket closer. “I see. I suppose a shopping trip is in order once you and your sister have settled back in. That might have been passable winter wear in California, but Gravity Falls gets rather more chilly and it would likely reflect poorly upon me and Stanley as guardians to allow you to catch hypothermia.”

Dipper shrugged again and began walking towards the store. This time the older man followed a short distance behind, feeling uncomfortably out of his depth.

“It’s not that bad. It’s just fall.”

“It’s not going to stay fall.” Ford finished conclusively. And wasn’t that just the worst part? Dipper wasn’t supposed to be in Gravity Falls in winter. He was supposed to be at home in California once winter came around, celebrating Hanukkah and Christmas with mom and dad. He was supposed to be at home right now, because it was fall and school had started. He wasn’t supposed to see Gravity Falls in any other season than summer. It was supposed to exist in it’s own little bubble where nothing changed and it was always warm and exciting. It wasn’t supposed to change with him as he grew up. He wasn’t supposed to grow up in Gravity Falls.

It wasn’t home, and it would never be home.

Dipper moved closer to Ford as they entered the building. He wasn’t going to cling like Mabel did, but he’d just lost his parents for God’s sake, if he needed a bit of reassurance from sticking close to an adult he was allowed. Luckily Ford made no move to push him away or judge. Instead, he simply put a strong hand on the child’s back as he steered him over to where Stan was waiting outside the restrooms.

“Ya need to go before we head out on the road again too?” Stan’s voice had the usual amount of gravel, but his smile was far less sharp than usual, arms crossed and leaning on the wall with Mabel’s pet pig sitting uncharacteristically well behaved next to him.

“No.”

“‘Right then. You two think you could go buy some stuff while I wait for the gremlin? Ya know, multitask. Better we get this over with as fast as possible.” Leave it to the conman to figure him out at a glance. Stan didn’t look at Dipper as he said the last part, but he still got the sneaking suspicion it was a request made for his benefit. As much as he hated the feeling of being coddled, he’d take it if it meant they could get to the shack faster and he could go be alone for a bit.

“Of course.” Ford answered. Dipper only nodded. The two adults kept talking for a few seconds, but Dipper tuned them out once the conversation no longer concerned him. He didn’t even register that they were finished before the hand returned to his back and gave him another careful nudge.

Dipper zoned out again for most of the walk through the store. Ford didn’t seem to mind the silent company, and seemed content to hmm and ha to himself as they went back and forth trying to find the items he’d hastily scribbled down. Pitt Cola, chips, more candy, and a few other items Dipper didn’t care to remember. It quickly became obvious grocery shopping with Ford would be far more disorganized that it had been with mom, he kept walking past seemingly obviously placed isles and doubling back around for the most obscure items. It struck Dipper that Ford probably still wasn’t entirely used to mundane chores. Did they have convenience stores in the multiverse? Somewhere, probably. But then again from the sounds of it Ford’s experience away from earth had been far from structured. Either way, all this back and forth definitely defeated the purpose of speeding up the interruption on the drive.

His mind made up, Dipper sighed and took the list from Ford.

“Glue? Why do we need glue for a road trip?” Dipper asked as he started down the opposite way of where Ford had been going. This time he allowed himself to take the adult’s hand. He wasn’t being needy, he was just leading so they could be done here as soon as possible.

“I believe Stanley said your sister requested it for a project.”

Dipper grimached. “Right. Her new scrapbook.”

The night before, when he and Mabel had been in their old rooms packing, she’d told him about it. How she’d decided last summer to make one new scrapbook for each trip to Gravity Falls. Dipper had reminded her this wasn’t just a trip, they were moving, but Mabel had brushed him off and asked something about what colour binder she should use. He couldn’t help a tinge of bitterness. There they’d been standing in the house they grew up in, picking through the ruins of the life they were supposed to have and trying to decide what was worth salvaging, and it was as if it didn’t even matter to Mabel. He could sympathize with wanting to look at the ‘bright side’, but the way she’d gone on you’d almost think she was… Excited? She just kept going on about seeing their friends back in Gravity Falls, and getting to redecorate their attic room, and going on adventures in the forest again. Those things were all well and good, but they sure as hell didn’t outweigh the terrible things that had happened to warrant the move.

“-pper? Dipper?” Dipper stopped, becoming aware he was being talked to. The way Ford said his name made it seem like he’d been trying to catch his attention for a while now. Dipper shook himself and looked at the adult.

“Sorry. Yeah?”

Ford’s concerned expression didn’t change, but he seemed to decide against pressing the subject. Instead, he motioned to an aisle with prepackaged sandwiches. “I just wondered if you would like something to eat?”

“Oh. No thanks.”

“Dipper…”

“I just want to get this over with.” Maybe he sounded a bit snappy, and maybe it was rude to turn and walk again before Ford could get a word in, but he really wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this. He just wanted back on the road.

Dipper could hear Ford sigh defeatedly behind him and for a second he wondered if maybe he’d gone too far. Ford meant well, and he probably just felt responsible. After all, weren’t Dipper and Mabel technically his responsibility now? Ford wouldn’t get mad, right? He wasn’t going to regret his decision, even if Dipper was being stubborn? He didn’t mean to be ungrateful, he just really didn’t have the energy right now.

But before Dipper could finish deciding whether he needed to apologize or not, he heard footsteps he instinctively filed as Ford’s longer strides pick up behind him again.

“Right, of course.” A six fingered hand gently squeezing his shoulder soothed any lingering fears Dipper had ignited. “I won’t press you if you’re still concerned about getting sick in the car. But will you please try to eat something once we get back home? I’m worried.”

Dipper managed a nod. He would try, if it meant that much to Ford. He would.

For now he settled for grabbing the last few items on the list that Ford hadn’t been able to locate before they walked towards the checkout and back to the car. Mabel immediately rifled through the bag for her craft supplies and gave a small squee at the selection of new snacks Stan had Ford and Dipper pick out.

“Grunkle Ford! These are my favourites! How’d you know?”

“Stanley insisted.” The remaining concern on Ford’s face melted into a fond smile, before he turned to Stan who was currently getting back into the car with a more stern expression. “I thought you were not supposed to let children gorge themselves on sugar? Especially not when you’ll be trapped in a moving vehicle with them for close to a day.”

“Lay off, Sixer. Those kid’s are troopers, and they deserve it.” Dipper glanced over at the bag again. It was a large amount, even some brand name stuff. He wasn’t entirely sure how he should feel about his uncle’s uncharacteristically indulgent attitude. Again, he really didn’t want people seeing him as a sad little kid who needed to be coddled. But...

But maybe just this once, he’d allow himself to appreciate the gesture.

They still had a few hours left to drive. There'd probably be time for the mood to go south again. But for now at least the silence didn’t feel quite so oppressive and wrong anymore. If he tried not to think too hard, he could almost pretend that this was okay. Almost pretend he was just heading back for another summer. As rain began to patter against the window, he began to feel sleep calling him. The last few nights had been difficult, it’d been so difficult to fall asleep when his mind was stuck thinking of all the terrible things that had happened lately.

But he was feeling a little more okay now. Still definitely not good, but less bad. So maybe it would be alright to let himself sleep.

Secure in the knowledge that -at least what remained of- his family was all safe and sound nearby, Dipper leaned against the window wrapped in his too thin jacket and let the sound of Mabel’s pen scratching the paper lull him to sleep.

Dipper bolted upright with a gasp in the seat next to her, jostling a few of Mabel’s papers and waking Waddles with a squeal of protest. 

“You okay, bro-bro?”

Staring unseeingly at the back of the seat in front of him, Dipper made no move to answer her. Or even indicate he had heard her at all. Instead he just sat rigidly, suddenly both wide awake and strangely distant. His breathing was hard and ragged, enough that Mabel could see his chest rise and fall erratically through the thin fall-weather jacket.

“Dipper? Are you alright, my boy?”

Just like Mabel, Ford went ignored. Dipper would never ignore Ford. Something was wrong. Mabel reached out to place a comforting hand on her brother’s back, when the car hit a pothole in the worn country road and lurched, jostling its inhabitants. The sudden movement seemed to jolt her brother out of his stupor, but before she could breathe a sigh of relief Dipper turned towards the car door, fumbling at the handle with unsteady hands.

“Hey, whaddya think you’re doin’ kid?”

The other voices in the car became louder, alarmed, but Dipper didn’t answer. Just continued to claw more frantically at the handle as the car grew louder. Not getting a proper grip.

“Dipper!” Mabel launched herself across the seat to grab at her brother. She could feel his arms trembling as she grabbed and tugged at them, trying to pull him back from the door. In the back of her mind, she noticed the car screeching to a halt. “Dipper, it's okay!”

As she moved to wrap him in a comforting hug, she instead found herself roughly shoved back to her side of the seat before the panicking boy began pulling at his seatbelt. Apparently without the presence of mind to reach for the button and unbuckle it. She heard a door being thrown open and someone hastily leave the car, but hardly registered the sound as she stared at her brother in a mix of fear and hurt.

Through the window of the door Dipper was no longer attempting to force open, Mabel saw Stan round the car.

The second the backseat door opened and the cool afternoon breeze replaced the suddenly choking air inside the car, Dipper turned back to the door. He scurried to get out, before the belt caught him and he fell back against the seat. Slamming his head against the thankfully soft headrest.

“Hey, hey, It’s gonna be okay, kid. Calm down.” Stan reached around and unbuckled the belt. When Dipper predictably responded to the sudden lack of restraints by making another attempt to bolt, the adult caught him in a hug the second he was outside the vehicle. Dipper attempted to wrestle free, but as it turned out it was far harder to shove off an adult twice his size than it was his sister.

“‘S okay. You’re okay.”

Dipper continued attempting to break free as Mabel watched helplessly for another few seconds before, to her relief, her brother finally seemed to run himself out of energy and flopped bonelessly against the adult’s broad chest with a small whimper.

“Okay, that’s good. You’re doing real good, kid. Just keep breathing.”

Stan was… Doing a surprisingly good job helping her brother calm down. Mabel had more than once ran to their great uncle for comfort over rejections and bad dreams during the summer they’d spent in Gravity Falls. She knew he could be reassuring when he wanted to. But she wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that he’d been able to get through to Dipper when she wasn’t. She turned to the other adult in the car, and to her surprise saw Ford watching the two with an expression of concerned helplessness much like her own. The want to help, to make things better, but not knowing how to. 

“You want space?” Stan asked once he was apparently sufficiently convinced Dipper wasn’t about to run off into the treeline given half the chance. Dipper didn’t speak, just burrowed his face further into the man’s jacket and shook his head with a small shaky noise. Somewhere between an exhale and a whine. “Okay. That’s fine. Take as much time as you need.”

Mabel felt a strange tightness in her chest. Maybe she should have let Stan comfort her too earlier, instead of running into a rest stop bathroom to cry. She ached for the reassurance her brother was getting right now. But…

No.

She was Mabel for crying out loud. Crying to Stan over failed crushes was one thing, but her family needed her to stay positive now more than ever. They were upset, and there was no way she was going to let the people she loved go around being sad. If they couldn’t smile right now, then she just had to smile for them.

Another of the car’s doors opened, and Ford stepped out. Tentatively putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder after a moment’s silent deliberation.

“Dipper?” He spoke, soft and careful. “What happened?”

Dipper’s only response was his shoulders going rigid. His breathing, which had just begun evening out, picked up again. Stan rumbled something unintelligible, the noise reverberating comfortingly through his chest. Before the hands he still held firmly at the child's back patted him gently, smoothing out his breathing without a trace of frustration or judgement.

It reminded Mabel of dad.

She quickly swiped at her eyes before collecting her scrapbook from where it had fallen out of her lap. While she was at it, she picked up some of the scattered sweets and quickly stuffed them into her mouth. With that she buried her face back into the bright glittery pages and tried to let the taste of the candy and the familiar textures of sequins and bits of fabric ground her.

“I-I…” Mabel could hear Dipper take an unsteady gulp of breath. “I’m sorry. That was so stupid of me I just…” He trailed off, with a miserable sniffle that threatened to push Mabel’s heart even closer to breaking.

“Nightmare?” Stan’s voice. Still even and calm. Mabel allowed herself to peek over the book cover. Stan hadn’t let go, even though he would definitely be complaining about a backache from the awkward position he was sitting in later. And now Ford was there too, in a half-kneel on the asphalt with his hand reassuringly on Dipper’s back.

Mabel reached out and pulled Waddles closer.

“Yeah. I-I don’t know what I was thinking, I just had to get out and-”

Another car whizzed by them on the other side of the road, cutting her brother off with a loud honk, and reminding Mabel they were still standing in the middle of the road. Ford didn’t comment as Stan removed one hand from Dipper’s back and flipped the driver off as the child cringed and shuffled to hide his face in the adult’s jacket again.

“We should… We should move. I’m sorry. I must have looked like an idiot in front of you-”

“No. Listen, you and your sister-” Mabel buried her face in the scrapbook, trying to look preoccupied as Stan glanced her way. “-are some of the strongest kid’s I know. Actually, some of the strongest people I know, period. You’ve been through so much shit already, and I fucking hate the fact that you’re having to go through even more right now.”

Mabel looked back outside as soon as she felt the gaze leave her, and saw Stan move Dipper away from his chest. Hands firmly on his shoulders as he looked him in the eyes. He didn’t comment on the wet patch on his shirt.

“But there’s no shame in bein’ upset. I know it hurts like hell to lose people.” Mabel thought she saw Stan’s eyes briefly flit to ford. “But I know you can make it through. And if ya can’t do it alone, then you’ll always have me and Ford and your sister here for you.”

There was an indecipherable look on Dipper’s face for a second, before he broke eye contact and stared at his shoes. Then, so faintly it almost wasn’t audible over the sounds coming from the treeline, he answered.

“But what if I don’t? What if… M-mom and dad said they’d always be there too. What if you-…” Dipper rubbed his eyes again, before stopping and digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. Stan relented and pulled him close again.

“If me and Ford kick it, there’ll be people in Gravity Falls literally lining up to become caretaker for the ‘town heroes’. People who’d honestly probably do a better job than a couple ‘o old codgers could anyway. You and Mabel ain’t being separated. Over my dead fucking body.”

“Not even then.” Ford chimed in. “Soos and Melody have a stable home life, and absolutely adore you two. If for some reason they can’t, Fiddleford has an entire mansion and was a very capable father before-” Ford seemed to catch himself, his face falling, before he smiled reassuringly and continued. “The point is that there are many, many people who care for you and would be willing to take you.”

“But I don’t want Soos, or Melody, or McGucket, I want…!”

Mom and dad. Mabel finished silently.

“I don’t want someone else. Not again .”

“You won’t have to.” Stan promised, and Mabel wanted to believe him. She knew Stan was rarely honest. He’d lied about bigger things than this. But he cared about her and Dipper. He cared, and somehow he had always managed to make things work out. Even when he lied. 

So she’d allow herself to believe him. If Stan and Ford could stay with them, then maybe eventually they could make her feel happy for real again. 

Until then, well, ‘fake it till you make it’.

As Dipper eventually sat back down in the car, Mabel plastered her best smile back on and beamed at him. Would distracting him make him feel better? He didn’t want to share her candy, but doing something creative always helped Mabel take her mind off sad things. Nodding to herself, she shoved the scrapbook into his arms as soon as he’d gotten his seatbelt back on. The book opened to a graph-paper page with rough outlines of the mystery Shack’s rooms on it.

“Okay, Dip-Dop! We’re halfway to Gravity Falls now and that means we’ve only got five more hours to work out the floorplan for the attic! What do you think, pink or purple curtains?”

Surprisingly, Dipper seemed less than thrilled.

Mabel really wasn’t going to give him any breathing room, was she?

For the first half of the drive she’d mercifully been leaving him mostly alone. He’d even managed to get some sleep, as much of a bad idea as that had turned out to be once he'd woken up in a dazed panic, half-convinced the car ride was about to end just like the crash that had taken his parents away. 

He couldn’t help but cringe, folding himself against the door.

Most of the anxiety had drained out of him once he’d gotten a few hours to calm down. Leaving only the very palpable feeling of hot stinging shame bubbling in his stomach. He’d made an absolute fool of himself in front of everyone. Ford would never agree to take him on trips in the forest to look for anomalies again when he couldn’t even handle a road trip without being a hazard to himself. And the only reason Stan hadn’t teased him over the outburst was probably because he’d been too busy trying to keep Dipper from running off into oncoming traffic.

He just wanted everyone to leave him alone. To stop looking at him like a complete basketcase or a kicked puppy.

But Mabel didn’t seem to have any intention of doing that.

She just kept coming up with one pointless distraction after another, like she thought he might fall to bits if she let him think for too long. Like he wasn’t allowed to be upset, and she didn’t understand why he was. Like he didn’t have the right to feel bad over all the things that had happened. Practically non-stop for five hours, she’d just kept bombarding him with random, unproductive thoughts. Drowning out his own. 

Dipper, do you think Several Times still lives in the Gravity Falls forest? 

Dipper, should we ask Ford if we can have his weird body-switching carpet back for our room? 

Dipper, do you want to play I-spy? 

Dipper, are you going to be seeing Wendy more now that we’ll live in the same town?

Dipper, are you-

Dipper, should we-

Dipper, Dipper, Dipper-

He felt his nerves grinding each time she opened her mouth. The fake casualness felt like slapping a band-aid onto a broken limb and calling it fixed.

Thank God they were almost there.

As the road sign cheerily welcoming them back to Gravity Falls appeared on the horizon, Dipper felt his stomach drop. This was it. The point of no return. For some reason, seeing that sign again just made everything sink in and feel far too real. As buildings and streets came into view, he couldn’t help but think of how strangely empty it seemed without the tourists. Melancholy. Everything was the same, but somehow it felt forigen. Unfamiliar. The cinema they’d gotten banned from and subsequently broken into still stood. The public pool Dipper had briefly gotten a summer job at was closed for the season, but still had some visible damage to the fence. The laser-tag place they’d gone to for Soos’ birthday looked just the same. And despite the town’s small population Greasy’s Diner still seemed to be packed in the dinner rush.

Maybe it wasn't the town that had changed, but rather Dipper.

As the car swerved onto the side-road that’d take them to their new -but not really new- home, Dipper’s thoughts were again interrupted. This time by a bright flash. Turning from the window to glare at his sister, he saw Mabel proudly aiming her camera at him.

“Scrap-book ortunity! Sorry, you just looked so introspective.” Mabel’s grin became sheepish, before she turned her attention back to the page she was currently working on and drew a square. Presumably for pasting the photo once she’d gotten the chance to print it out. In bright, bold, bubble letters on top of the page were the words ‘New Beginnings’ alongside a few stickers of faces both happy and sad.

Dipper felt his scowl deepening

“What do you think is a good caption for this photo, Dipper?”

“I don’t know.” He turned back to the window, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. He cared about his sister, God did he ever, and he loved her optimism, as exhausting as it could get sometimes. But right now it just felt artificial and uncanny. Dissonant. He wished she would stop it. Just for a second. Just long enough for him to get confirmation that she actually cared . That it actually mattered to her that their parents were gone and their life was upside down. Because the alternative was… 

“Come on, work with me here! Maybe… ‘Almost there!’” Mabel waved her hands in a showy fashion, as if creating an imaginary rainbow. “Or is that too simple? How about ‘Almost there!’ But with a smiley instead of the ‘o’?”

“Mabel, I really don’t care!” His tone rose maybe just a little too loud, trying to keep his feelings from getting the better of him. It didn’t dissuade his sister.

“Dipper, you shouldn’t just sit around moping.” The edges of her smile twitched before dropping into something more sympathetic. “You’ll feel better if you do something fun. Maybe we could-”

“Maybe I don’t want to feel better right now!” He snapped. 

It felt like the floodgates in his mind had been released, the onslaught viciously drowning the tiny voice in the back of his head frantically reminding him he didn’t want to yell at his sister. Because in that moment, he did . Maybe it was cruel, and maybe probably he’d regret it later, but at that moment he just so desperately wanted to see another emotion on his sister’s face than oblivious cheerfulness. Any other emotion.

“I swear, it’s barely been two months and it’s like you don’t even care anymore!” Dipper remembered the first few days after they’d gotten the news, where Mabel had practically done nothing but cry. And then it was as if someone had flipped a switch and suddenly she was fine again. Like his sister had been replaced without him noticing, by a caricature of herself. “I-... I’ve seen you upset over cancelled candy bars for longer than this!”

“D-Dipper I-” Mabel wasn’t smiling anymore, at least. And a part of Dipper felt guilty to know that he was the cause. He took that guilt and tried his best to stomp it into the ground. He vaguely heard one of the adults trying to intervene in the budding argument, but whatever they said went in one ear and out the other.

“No, you listen! I’ve barely gotten ten hours of sleep this last week , because whenever I close my eyes I have nightmares! I can’t eat, because I have a hard enough time trying not to feel sick on an empty stomach! I can’t even sit in a car for a few hours without making a complete fool of myself in front of everyone! And- And you’re just fine !?” He continued without even thinking the words through. Somehow every nasty, vindictive, thought he’d had ever since Mabel began acting up came spilling unbidden from his lips to the point where he didn’t know if he could stop even if he wanted to.

He felt a headache coming on. Probably just because he hadn’t eaten in a while. That was probably it. His eyes were stinging, and his throat ached like it was closing up, but that was just because Stan wasn’t tidy and probably hadn’t vaccumed the car in months. Yes. He was probably breathing around 50% dust. It had to be affecting Mabel too, because she was sniffling.

“I’m not!” She cried. And, okay, this time it did hurt Dipper to hear how despondent her voice was. But this was what he’d been asking for, right?

“Dipper!” This time the adult’s voice actually registered. Rough. Upset. It was just like Stan to take Mabel’s side. 

He could see the Mystery Shack now. They were in the parking lot. He didn’t want to go inside. If he went inside, this would all be real. They’d officially have moved, and there’d be no going back. Their old life would be over for real.

The fear fueled his anger, and again it directed itself at his sister. He was hurt, and he so badly wanted someone else to hurt too. So without thinking, he said the one thing he knew was a low blow but would cause the most damage.

“Did mom and dad ever even matter to you?” Mabel’s face crumbled. And, yep, he was definitely crying. But he couldn’t stop. “Does anything matter to you, other than your stupid crushes and your stupid scrapbook ?”

“Dipper, my boy, you need to-”

Now Ford was turning on him too? Why did this have to happen? Everything was already as far from okay as it could possibly be, and still it just kept getting worse somehow. Dipper was making it worse. Mabel was making it worse. Stan and even Ford were making it worse.

He couldn’t do this. He just couldn’t.

In a split second, Dipper made up his mind. Throwing open the car door and getting his belt off. Before anyone else could get a word in edgewise he was outside the car. Running towards the familiar forest, comforting in its weirdness and familiarity. It had been his safespace all summer. A place where he could hide from the world and his own anxieties and get lost in all the strange and wonderful things it housed.

He didn’t know what he’d do once he reached it. He just knew he had to get away. Away from the sister he still felt bad for lashing out at. Away from the uncles who could never be parents. And away from the house that would never be home.

At least in this forest he knew his way around.

Why did this have to happen? This entire situation was already stressful and upsetting for all involved, and the children were already understandably distraught. Yet it just kept becoming even more muddled and complicated. Ford had been half prepared to see his family ripped away from him due to Bill or other supernatural means ever since he’d first come back through the portal and found out they existed. He’d had contingency plans for that eventuality. He’d known what to expect and how to approach it to minimize suffering. But he’d never even conceived of this nightmare scenario of having to watch them fall apart due to a mundane tragedy as he stood by useless. He could dispose of physical threats, he could cope with what to the average person was inconceivable. That was what he’d done for thirty years.

He had no idea how to help a grieving child.

In retrospect, he should have seen Dipper’s outburst coming. How could he claim to know the boy when he should have seen this coming from a mile away? When it should have been so obvious, and so hauntingly familiar that it was now causing his stomach to knot itself. Yet he’d stood by idly, unsure of what to say and therefore saying nothing. 

As he watched the forest he too had once used as an escape whenever the real world became overwhelming, his thoughts spiraling unproductively, he heard Mabel scramble out of the car and retreat into the silent house. Stanley stood beside him on the packed earth that made up the Mystery Shack parking lot, looking torn between the trees and the house.

“Go after her.” It was more of a command than a request, his brother’s eyes hard and intense with indecipherable emotion.

“You’ve known them for longer, you are far better equipped to-”

“Yeah, I know, and that’s exactly why you’ve gotta go deal with Mabel.” Stan glanced impatiently between Ford and the forest. “Dipper arguably needs help even more right now. Look, I know ya have the social confidence of a porcupine, but you put up with me all damn day long and she’s similar enough.”

Before Ford could manage to get another word in edgewise, the other man was already halfway into the forest. Ford watched him disappear amongst the trees, gracelessly maneuvering through the underbrush with a hurried edge to his steps. He felt a distinctly sinking feeling in his gut, but he couldn’t just stay put and wait for his brother to swoop in and rescue him. He wouldn’t. Not this time. However unfit, he’d accepted a task and had responsibility for these children.

And so, he turned and strode back into the house with the confidence of someone who had once lived there but hadn’t stepped foot inside for months. He very briefly brightened at the idea that, just maybe, Soos or Melody would be home and able to relieve him of his duty. They’d probably know what to say and do far better than he could anyways. But then he remembered that they were out of state. Officially to spend time with Melody’s relatives, but in reality mainly to give the Pines’ a few weeks to themselves to sort things out and settle back in.

They would probably need to expand the house, if it was to comfortably fit them all. But that was very much a problem for future Ford to sort out. For now, he was grateful it wasn’t any larger. It was challenging enough to find his niece as it was.

He looked in all the most optimal hiding places he had familiarized himself with during the summer. Back when he’d still been convinced Bill might manifest out of any shadowy corner to continue tormenting him in the waking world. But saw neither hide nor hair of the distressed girl. Eventually he came to the conclusion he should have reached from the beginning, and with a noise of frustration headed up the rickety flight of stairs towards the attic. He was looking for a child. A sad child. Mabel wasn’t some skittish anomaly or mistrustful adult. She wouldn’t hide away in the dark cramped nooks of the Shack, she would go where she felt safe and home.

At least Ford hoped she still felt safe there. Should all the things she and her brother had been through truly have shattered their sense of security, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

Ford came to a stop in front of the worn old door to the attic room which had once been a storage space for his miscellaneous books and scientific messes, but now felt far more right to call the younger twins’ bedroom. He hesitated with his hand hovering just over the door, steeling himself with a sigh.

This was not going to be pretty.

“Mabel, dear?”

The barren room offered him no answer, but to his relief Mabel was easy to spot. She looked incredibly tiny, sitting forlornly on the bare mattress that had been hers all summer. The bright sweater that obscured practically all of her small body and hid her face stood out in the gloom that belied it’s cheerful pattern. When she made no motion to indicate she had noticed him, he attempted to call out again. The last thing he wanted to do was startle her.

“Mabel, are you alright? No- that’s… No, of course you’re not.”

Still nothing. Perhaps he should have brought Waddles. It wasn’t warm enough that they had to worry about him being left in the car, and he was rather certain nobody had even had the time to think about turning off the AC, but maybe having her pet would help comfort her? But that would require Ford leaving to collect the pig. That didn’t seem like a particularly good idea. Instead, he apprehensively entered the room as if expecting some kind of monster to jump out from a cardboard box or dust pile at any moment. She lifted her head, the movement so slight he would have probably missed it, had he not been forced to learn the subtle differences between an inattentive being and an alert one the painful way. He sat down at the very edge of the bed, hoping that she would speak first.

She didn’t.

God, what was Sherman thinking letting them take care of his fragile, traumatized grandchildren? Children needed stability, routines, reassurance, and hundreds of other things both Ford and his brother were utterly unsuited to provide.

Although, to be fair, perhaps Stanley wasn’t as unfit as he appeared at first glance. Ever since they were children, he’d always been the protector. The caretaker. And if anything the month they’d gotten to spend at sea before this whole mess had only solidified that fact as still very much standing. Whenever Ford became overwhelmed by memories and sensations and the world stopped feeling like a safe place, Stanley was never far behind. Real and solid and secure.

For what must have been the thousandth time, he mentaly kicked himself for not having seen it earlier.

Perhaps Stanley really could do this. But Ford? Ford barely knew how to cope with his own lingering trauma. And now these children were supposed to rely on him to be the kind of safety in their lives that Stanley was in his? Hell, they’d be lucky if he didn’t make things worse . He could barely interact with Stanley without inadvertently hurting him over and over, and he had the kind of resilience and patience he just wouldn’t and couldn’t expect from their niblings. Ford was harsh and callous. When things relied on him, he screwed up.

Sherman was out of his mind.

Yes, Ford could understand his big brother wouldn’t feel emotionally capable of being there for the twins while reeling from the loss of his own child. And yes, maybe he had a point in arguing that he was older and lacked the energy to keep up with two lively barely teens. But couldn't he have found anyone more suitable?

Apparently not, as that mess of a court proceeding had proven. These children deserved so much better. They were wonderful people that anyone should have felt honoured to be around. Why nobody else seemed to see that, he would never understand. Everyone else had been all false sympathies and empty excuses, balking the second they were asked to do more than express condolences. How messed up did the rest of their family have to be for him and Stanley to be good candidates in comparison? Maybe he should be glad his thirty years away from earth had kept him from getting to know most of them.

“Mabel, I… I know things are bad right now but… But it’s okay.” That was reassuring, right? That was something you were supposed to say when people were upset, right?

Mabel didn’t answer him, just made an unintelligible little noise and burrowed deeper into the colourful fabric.

“I mean, that was quite the nasty altercation, but I’m sure it’s not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be?” He offered, cringing at just how insincere his voice sounded.

Yes it is. It definitely is. You’re not helping, Stanford.

Mabel made no further movements. Whatever Stanley was expecting Ford to accomplish, he certainly wasn’t doing it. He looked straight ahead at the wall and the empty bed on the other side of the room. The gnarled wood offered no insights. Maybe he should try switching gear?

“You should have seen that last fight me and Stanley had.” He offered with a half hearted smile in the girl’s direction. Not that Mabel could see him through the thick knitting, but perhaps trying to look the part would make his inflection more believable. He wasn’t good at this. The attempted levity felt forced. He wished he was just about anywhere else. He’d even take ‘in the middle of a herd of Leprecorns’ over this. Anything to not have to see his niece this miserable

The atmosphere was heavy with guilt and grief to the point where it was almost choking, and he had no idea how to alleviate it.

“I mean we didn’t talk for ten years after that even when we were in the same dimension, so, uh, at least you can do much worse than that, right?” He continued. This time Mabel replied with a small, drawn out, whining noise. Like a broken dog toy, or a leaking balloon. Everything he said just felt like digging himself deeper.

“Okay, discard that last statement-!” He put his hands up placatingly. “Let’s try to look at this rationally, alright? Even if you had somehow made Dipper as upset as Stanley made me-” Mabel moved her arms back into the sweater’s sleeves, and for a second, Ford thought that maybe he had somehow gotten through to her without even knowing what he was doing. But then she forcefully crammed her hands over her ears and curled up tighter.

The more frantically he tried to think of some way to make things better, the more he felt like following Mabel’s example. His breath hitched as he shook his head. No, becoming overwrought would in no way be beneficial. It might even prove detrimental, should it further distress the upset girl. He needed to keep himself calm and collected. Even if this entire situation was falling apart under him, threatening to send them all spiralling helplessly into the abyss.

Collect yourself. Focus on your intellect.

Never let them see your fear. Wasn’t that how you were supposed to approach children?

At least that tended to work with rabid alien creatures, and really what was the difference?

Who was he kidding, he wasn’t Sherman, he wasn’t Stanley. He was way out of his depth and sinking fast. 

Sherman had always wanted the whole “white picket fence” and “big happy family” stuff. And Stanley, while definitely neither responsible nor particularly paternal, seemed to be Soos’ father on all levels but biological and be doing a decent job of it. The bottom line was that both his brothers had proven themselves shockingly fit to play the part of “parent”. But Ford? Ford had a gnome in a cage once?

He usually remembered to feed it.

He felt a shudder go up his spine the more he thought about it, silently hoping to whatever powers might be out there in the universe that he hadn’t taken after their own father in that regard. He was trying , at least. That was more than Filbrick had done.

“I’ll be right back, I’m sorry, I just need to-...” Mabel didn’t answer, and Ford didn’t finish. He took her silence as permission to excuse himself from the conversation and rush back downstairs. Why was Stanley taking so long? Ford needed him. Maybe he could call? But, no. If Stanley was in the middle of speaking with Dipper he probably needed to give that his full attention. Should he call Sherman?

Ford paced next to the kitchen phone. Stanley was the one who’d volunteered to learn to use the cellular for the kids’ sake. He was better at it. He was better at a lot of things.

No, Ford couldn’t call Sherman. He had enough to worry about without his little brother coming crying. Besides, he’d entrusted them with his grandchildren. Ford couldn’t ask for help already, that would just make it seem like he wasn’t cut out for this. Which maybe he wasn’t, but-

Fiddleford.

The thought struck him out of nowhere, somehow clear and rational despite the maelstrom in his brain.

Fiddleford had a son, and while Ford wasn’t exactly qualified to make an assessment, he seemed to know what he was doing the few times Ford had watched them interact when Tate had been a child.

Yes, maybe that would work. With no further internal debate Ford punched the number he’d long since committed to memory into the keypad and waited. His nerves grew more tense with each dial tone until he felt as if his muscles were a far too tightly wound spring, ready to snap any second.

“Y’ello? Fiddleford Mcgucket, inventor an’ former local kook, how can ah-”

“Fiddleford! I need your help!”

The line went dead for a few seconds, leaving Ford to wonder just how loudly he’d spoken in his hurry. Ah, right, perhaps it was a good idea to say who it was calling as well? But before Ford got the chance to continue Fiddleford’s voice returned, the earlier amiable cheer replaced with a mix of apprehension and resignation.

“Stanferd? What in tarnation did ya do now ?”

“Nothing!” Ford rushed to defend himself. Maybe the somewhat frantic tone had given the wrong impression. He tried his best to reign in his building stress as he thought of the upset child a floor above him and spoke in a more even tone. “I- Uh, I need advice. How do you deal with crying children? Time sensitive question.”

Silence again, but this time he could at least still hear the other man’s breathing through the receiver.

“Oh, Stanferd. This is about yer niece an’ nephew, ain’t it?” Having reassessed the situation, the voice came through far gentler. Ford couldn’t help but sigh, pushing his glasses up and rubbing his eyes.

“Yes. Mabel and Dipper had some kind of altercation. Dipper ran off and Stanley went after, instructing me to comfort Mabel and-... Moses, what did I get myself into? I should have never…”

“Yer doin’ fine, ah’m sure.” Warm. Reassuring. Everything Ford was not. “Ya remember when me an’ the missus first brought lil’ Tate home? Ah was a right mess too.”

“That’s why I’m calling, actually. You have experience with children - erhm, child, singular - and I… I don’t know what to do. I need help.” Ford forced himself to admit. This, at least, was something he had gotten better at. Swallowing his pride. He supposed it only took dooming the universe once to learn when to ask for help.

“‘Righty, let’s get this sitiation looked at t’en. Ya have ‘er there with ya?”

“I left her in the attic.”

Silence again.

“Not good?” Ford offered.

“Nah’t good.”

“I- I mean the attic is their room, it’s not like I…” Ford began explaining. “My parents-”

“Shouldn’t ‘ave been parents. Go get ‘er, ah’ll wait.”

Ford sighed. Alright. He could do that. Mabel was just a little girl, it wasn’t like she was going to attack him if he went back to her room.

At least he hoped she wouldn’t.

His steps felt far heavier as he retracted his earlier path up the stairs to the attic and back through the door. Mabel was still sitting precisely where he’d left her, but at least she had lowered her hands back into a somewhat more comfortable position. The rest of her body was still obscured though. Ford braced himself and addressed the girl again.

“Mabel?”

She made a noise of acknowledgement, though he wasn’t entirely sure how to define it. Nonetheless, he’d take it as permission to approach and sit down again.

“I… I’m really sorry, I’m not good at this.” He wrangled with himself for a few seconds, before gently reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder. That had worked with Dipper before, hadn’t it? Still, he was prepared to retract it at a moments notice should she show any signs of discomfort.

To his surprise, she instead leaned into the touch. Awkwardly slanted against his side in a position that couldn’t be particularly comfortable.

Of course. The human body was quite literally programmed to seek out closeness when distressed. He refrained from dragging a hand over his face in annoyance, only because he wasn’t sure if the movement would startle the girl. He knew about that! Why hadn’t he thought of it earlier? Oxytocin levels rise when in physical proximity to another human being. Just because he had never thought he’d gotten much benefit out of hugs as a child didn’t mean Mabel wouldn’t. He was the outlier. Not the norm.

Or maybe it was just that he’d never really had anyone who would hug him.

He shook his head, maneuvering the girl’s small body so she sat more securely in his arms. He had to focus, this wasn’t about him. This was about Mabel.

“Is it alright if I bring you downstairs?”

He could feel her nod against his chest. Two way communication. Limited, but still. It was progress.

He carefully lifted her, making sure to keep her supported. Maneuvering back down the stairs was a bit of a hassle when he couldn’t see his feet, but he had done far more taxing things out in the multiverse. At least she was fairly light.

“Alright, Fiddleford. I have her. Now what?” He sighed into the telephone, sinking into one of the kitchen chairs and doing his best to press the receiver against his ear with both hands occupied.

“‘ave ya hugged ‘er?” Fiddleford was back on the line almost instantly. It was strange how much it reminded him of the countless discussions they’d had over the phone when they’d still lived apart after Ford moved to Gravity Falls. Only, then the topic was usually theoretical physics or such, and there wasn’t a trembling child clinging to his chest.

“Yes, I gauged as much was appropriate. She’s sitting on my lap.”

“See? Ah told ya. Ain’t rocket science.” Fiddleford sounded almost proud.

“If it was, I wouldn’t have needed help in the first place.”

“Ah, hush up ya’ stubborn old goat.”

“What do I do now?”

“What were ya doin’ earlier?”

Good question. Ford had pretty much been saying whatever came into his head that sounded even remotely in the neighborhood of ‘comforting’, and that clearly hadn’t worked.

“I… I tried to get her looking at the situation logically?” That had been one of the last things he remembered trying, and shouldn’t that have worked? Turning to his intellect usually helped Ford pick up the pieces when he fell apart and Stanley wasn't there to do it for him. Absentmindedly, he began stroking the child’s back. Mainly for something to do with his hands, but wasn’t that also something Stanley had done before when Dipper panicked? Mabel leaned closer in response, grip becoming a bit less frantic. Ford could feel her knotted muscles loosening slightly under his fingers.

“That might work ‘fer us geezers, most of the time at least yer problems come from overthinking ah reckon.” Fiddleford conceded, before continuing. “But this ‘s a child. The ‘lil ankle biters are emotional an’ ya can’t think yer way out o’ a problem ya didn’t think yerself into .”

That… Did make some sense, he supposed.

“If I can’t stop her being sad by being logical, then how do I stop it?”

“Ya don’t.”

Ford was taken back. “What!?” Mabel made a noise of distress, and he quickly returned the hand he’d instinctively began gesturing with to her back. Going quiet and holding her until she slumped against him again. Burrowing her face into the crook of his neck.

“Look, ah know ya mean well. But ya can’t fix someone’s hurt by takin’ it away from em’.”

“If I can’t make it alright, then what am I supposed to do?”

“How’s what yer doin’ right now workin’ out fer ya?”

Ford paused. What he was doing right now? He was just hugging her. That didn’t change anything about the situation. It wasn’t productive in the slightest.

Except… 

Except, when he looked back down at Mabel, he noticed she was no longer locked up rigid and hiding in her sweater. He could actually see her face. It was a bit obscured by her tousled hair, and she was still shyly tucked under his own head. But she wasn’t completely catatonic anymore.

“... Huh.”

Ford could practically hear the smug expression on Fiddleford’s face.

“Told ya.” His voice quickly changed into something softer. “Look, Stanferd. I think ya need to have a talk with ‘er. Ya know, without a mediater. So ah’ll hang up. But ye’ll be right as rain. Trust me.”

“Yes, you’re right.” He sighed. “Thank you, old friend.”

“No worries, ya know you can always count on me.” There was something so nostalgic about that. Bittersweet. A far cry from the paranoid wreck Ford’s research had reduced them both to.

“Yes. I know.”

“Just be honest, please. Ah’ll betcha she’s probably scared outta her mind right now. She needs to know it ain’t somethin’ she needs ta hide.”

As he hung up, he could almost allow himself to get lost in the warm yet still unaccustomed feeling of trust. Knowing that he not only had Stanley to rely on anymore, and that he’d never be forced to go back to that small dark space where all eyes were yellow and nobody could be trusted.

But he forced himself to return his thoughts to the matter at hand. As much as he didn’t want to have to go slogging through the minefield that was emotional conversation again. He had to. He had a job to do.

“Mabel.”

“Mhm?” It was faint and wavering, but at least it was some form of vocalization. Ford decided to allow the child to remain hidden against him. They didn’t really need eye contact to have a conversation, and if it would make things easier for her, he would just have to accommodate.

“I… I don’t know if it helps, but… Stanley is a lot like you. And if Dipper is anything like me, he’s already regretting those things he said.” Ford might not know much about 'parenting' and that whole mess. But this? Getting angry at your sibling and saying things you didn’t mean to? That he knew very well. “In fact, I’ll bet he probably regretted them as soon as he said them. But… Sometimes, when people are upset, they want to make others upset too. Sometimes people hurt those they love simply because they happen to be the people standing closest. And some people-... Some people are sometimes too proud to apologize. Even when we know we should.”

“I…” Mabel began unsteadily. Her voice dropped lower and lower as she spoke. “Grunkle Ford? Do you think… Do you think if we got one of those time traveling thingies we could… Could…” Mabel’s voice gave out on her, but Ford knew what she was getting at.

What he didn’t know was how he was possibly supposed to tell her ‘no’ . He so desperately wished he could say yes. That they could fix this. That somehow, whether through magic or science, he could undo what had happened and make everything okay again. Put their family back together and take away what hurt. But he couldn’t.

“I promise, if I had thought for even a second we might have had a chance to get your parents back, I would have been finding a timetape and getting ready to fistfight Time Baby before we even got off the phone with social services.” He tried, before adding what he knew to be true. “And Stanley would have been right there beside me.”

Mabel took a shaky breath, before nodding.

“I understand that you’re scared. And that’s alright. And… And I’m scared too.” He wasn’t sure whether it would hurt or help to say that, but Fiddleford was right. She needed to know it was okay for her to be upset, and she was a very bright girl when it came to understanding other people. If Ford told her one thing and did another, she’d catch on.

Mabel pushed away from his chest, just enough to be able to look him in the eyes. Her’s were wet and wide open, looking at him strangely.

“Why?” She rasped with a snivel. “Of what?”

“Plenty of things.” She burrowed her face in his sweater again, and he moved one hand to gently comb through the tangles in her uncharacteristically unruly hair. Did her mother usually brush it? He was going to have to look that up later. “Scared that I’ll mess up. Scared that I can’t be a good enough brother, or uncle. Scared that I can’t be a good enough caretaker.”

“... I’m scared Dipper will stay mad at me. I do care. I promise, I do ! I just thought-”

“I know.”

“... I made my first scrapbook to show mom and dad the adventures we had here when we got back. I… I know they won’t get to see it this time. But… But working on it helps me feel like they will. Like everything is just a little more normal.” She sniffled miserably. “Is that bad? Am I doing this wrong?”

“No, I… I don’t really think there is a right or wrong way to cope with something like this.” Ford tried to think back to what he’d felt when Stanley told him their father had passed away while he was lost in the portal. He tried to think of any useful takeaway from what he’d felt then that could be applied to the current situation. But if he was to be completely honest, he hadn’t felt much of anything. Did that make him a bad person? Was he the one grieving wrong? “I didn’t see your scrapbook when I went to get you from the attic. Where is it?” He decided to change subjects instead.

“I threw it in the trash.”

“Should I go get it back for you?”

“No. It’s not worth Dipper hating me.”

“Mabel, he doesn’t hate you. I promise. You… You didn’t understand his grieving process, and he didn’t understand yours. You just need to talk when he gets back.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Ford might not entirely know what he was supposed to do, but he knew he had to do something . The second Stanley returned with Dipper, the younger twins needed to talk. This couldn’t be allowed to fester between them. No matter how unfit he felt to have these kinds of conversations, he was not going to watch Dipper repeat Ford’s own mistakes. Not so long as there was breath in his body.

Stan very much preferred the ocean to the forest. There were less bugs, less chance of getting caught in a thicket and scratching up your legs, less likelihood of stepping on a snake or something, and less leaves and sticks getting caught in your hair. But as much as Stan disliked forests in general, the woods surrounding Gravity Falls would always hold a special place of loathing in his heart. The outermost parts were fine, he’d even take tourists to see some of the tamer sights there from time to time. But the deep woods held far too many bad memories of early years spent searching for Ford’s remaining journals well into the fall season. Digging and hiking until the ground froze, and he had no choice but to concede defeat for another year. Even without those bad memories, there were too many supernatural pests he couldn’t stand. Gnomes, fairies, manotaurs and other frustrating creatures he had no idea how Ford could put up with. Giant squids and sirens, that was where it was at.

But even if Stan had liked the forest before, he was pretty sure he’d still hate it wholeheartedly right now.

He didn’t have the faintest clue where Dipper could have gotten off to. The kid was light and nimble, compared to Stan who was clumsy stumbling through the forest, leaving a clear trail of broken branches and trampled earth. He was getting too old to trudge through the brush like this, dodging the trees that only seemed to grow more and more tightly clustered the further in he went. At least he’d long since ditched the dress shoes for a pair of sturdy boots, otherwise he was pretty sure he would have lost them in the rain-wet muddy ground by now. Now that he thought of it, he really didn’t much care for fall either.

The skies were gray through the thick canopy.

He needed to catch up with that kid fast, before any of the less friendly denizens of the forest did. Sure, Dipper and Mabel had been just fine exploring the forest all summer, but then they’d at least had each other. And Stan had told them not to go too far with some half assed warning about getting lost. Not that he really thought they’d listened. While he’d mostly been worried about monsters, he supposed getting lost was a valid concern too. Maybe not as much in summer, but especially now that the weather was worsening.

Hadn’t Ford mentioned something about how they needed to get the kids better winter clothes back in the car?

He felt his jaw going tense as he began looking around himself more hurriedly. The last thing they needed was the kid ending up catching hypothermia. Stan remembered way too many cold and miserable nights from back in his drifter days, hiding out in alleys and under bridges, trying to keep the rain out. Sitting on soggy pavement, already soaked to the bone and feeling his fingers going numb. He’d nearly lost digits to the cold more than once. He’d be damned if he let his nephew deal with that too. The poor boy had been through enough.

He just had to find him before the storm broke. That was fine. He usually worked best under pressure anyways.

At least that was what he told himself.

No, everything would be fine. He would find Dipper and get him back into the warm, dry, house that was waiting for the both of them. Dipper would make up with Mabel. Everything would be okay. If the kids could just make up, he and Ford could figure out the rest. 

Somehow.

At least, Ford could probably figure out the rest.

Yes, Stan’s brother might have the social awareness of a headless chicken. But he was the smartest person Stan knew. He was responsible, he was organized when he wanted to be, and at least he’d never intentionally encouraged the kids’ bickering. Meanwhile, there were multiple periods in Stan's life where he could barely take care of himself. Under his watch, the kids had been possessed by demons, fallen into a bottomless pit, nearly gotten eaten by zombies, and even been arrested. Yes, Ford had gotten them into their fair share of stupid messes too - it was kind of hard to top the literal apocalypse - but at least he could probably enforce bedtimes and keep up with school schedules. Enforce routines in general. Stan hadn’t even had any beyond when to open and close the Mystery Shack for thirty years.

Stan could never make any relationships, family or otherwise, last. Either he got too needy like with Ford and ended up smothering the people he cared about, or he went too far in the other extreme and became aloof. Alright, Soos had been a pretty consistent presence in Stan's life, even if Stan knew he didn’t deserve the borderline worshipful regard that kid held him in. But Soos had probably only really turned out okay because he had his abuelita there for him. He was a well adjusted adult despite Stan, not because of him.

There was probably still time to mess that relationship up too, though. Stan and Ford had been practically inseparable for seventeen years after all, and Stan still managed to take a sledgehammer to that friendship.

No, stop it. You’re doing better now.

Barely.

Cut it out.

It was strange how much that tiny encouraging voice in his head, the one that contrasted his own, sounded like Ford. He was still relying too much on Ford, even when Ford wasn’t even there. Was he still being suffocating? 

Maybe he should have sent Ford to deal with Dipper instead.

There was rain in the air. Stan could always somehow tell when there was a stormfront rolling in, he’d take it as a side effect of growing up near a tumultuous ocean. He needed to find Dipper soon. He could feel his pulse picking up as he went along, clammy hands balling into fists at his sides. The sensation of his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands was a welcome distraction from his racing thoughts.

He really hoped Dipper hadn’t decided to run away from home for real. Sort of home. As close to home as they had . He tried to swallow down the uncomfortable recollections that settled like a stone in his throat. He knew it probably didn’t really feel like home to the kids. Maybe it never would. He knew far too well what it was like to grow up in a house that wasn’t a home. He didn’t want that for them. They deserved so much better than the shitty hand Stan had been dealt. He wished there was some way he could make things better, but he had no clue how. Honestly, the best he felt comfortable aiming for was to not mess them up any worse than life already had.

Hah, good luck with that, idiot.

He’d already been guilty of taking after pa during the summer. Putting Dipper through the wringer to ‘toughen him up’, because that was the excuse pa had used. That was really the only example he’d had of what dads were supposed to be. He knew it wasn’t a good example, but it was all he’d got.

Nearly tripping over an ill placed root forced his mind back to the matter at hand. Right. Finding Dipper now, self deprecation over fittingness to play parent later.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stan caught sight of a blue light flickering between the trees. He briefly felt his heart rate skyrocket, memories of demons and deals and blue fire forcing themselves into his mind unbidden. He could almost hear the mocking laughter, the panicked screeching ringing in his ears. Almost feel the soft flickers of cold fire lick at his arms, remorselessly burning away his memories. His self. Taking everything in a blinding flash of blue light and leaving him alone and empty in the dark.

Turning his head sharply, he saw the flame floating on nothing. But no demon. Heaving a shaky breath, he ran his hands along the sleeves of his coat. Extinguishing the imaginary embers. The cold sweat remained on his forehead as he looked at the tiny light, but slowly his pulse began to even out again.

A wisp. Stan remembered them from Ford’s first journal, and silently reminded himself that they were harmless. Well, at least they themselves had no way to actually attack a person. That didn’t make them benevolent though. They’d appear to travelers in the forest and hope to distract people into following them away from the beaten path and becoming lost. He wasn’t sure why, Ford’s journal didn’t say. Maybe they were just sadistic little buggers.

Well, tough luck for them. The cellphone the kids had gotten him had a GPS.

Some cryptids just weren’t meant to survive the advent of modern technology.

But maybe… If Dipper had also passed through their territory, maybe he would have followed them. The kid was too curious for his own good after all. Ford’s journal had said something about how he suspected they followed a hivemind, maybe the paths they misled people onto intertwined? Maybe, if he wanted to find Dipper, he’d have to let himself get lost.

Beats just walking aimlessly in a straight line.

With a sigh Stan walked to the little flame. Ignoring the slight queasiness prickling at the back of his throat as the blue fire came closer. Once he was close enough to touch the light it flickered out and reappeared a few feet away. He felt like one of his own gullible tourists, enraptured by an enticing lightshow and just waiting for someone to sneak up and pick his pocket. It couldn’t be more obvious if they led him by the nose.

“Just so we’re on the same page, I know you glowy bastards are pulling my leg.” He mumbled indignantly.

Getting conned willingly doesn’t change the fact that you’re getting conned.

From somewhere he couldn't quite place, he heard snickering.

Stan wasn’t quite sure just how far the wisps were leading him, stopping periodically to call out for Dipper. But eventually the rain that had threatened began to trickle down, prompting him to start moving faster. Maybe this had been a mistake. He swallowed dryly, despite the humid air. If he couldn’t find the boy within ten minutes, he’d be calling the cops and reporting him missing. That was the responsible thing to do, right? Not that Gravity Falls police were particularly competent. Maybe he should call Wendy, have her rally the town. This was one of the heroes who’d saved them all from Weirdmageddon after all, the people of Gravity Falls were dumb as bricks but they weren’t heartless. They’d brave a bit of rain to help find a missing kid.

Too lost in his thoughts to properly look where he was going, Stan’s foot hit a muddy slope and before he realized it he’d landed harshly on his backside. Sliding through the underbrush and gracelessly tipping over forwards upon stopping in the wet grass.

He really hated the forest.

“Grunkle Stan!?” 

The alarmed voice cracked, and for once Stan was too relieved to find it funny.

“Dipper?” Collecting his now significantly more smudged glasses from the ground and pressing them back on his nose, he took in the sight before him. The brief flash of relief was stomped out almost immediately as he noticed that they were in a clearing. Specifically, the clearing with Bill’s statue in it.

Fucking wisps.

Not only was the statue of that one eyed demon there - don’t look at it, don’t look at it - but Dipper was standing far too close to it for Stan’s comfort. Yes, the same continent was technically ‘too close for comfort’, but Dipper was within an arm's reach. With one hand hanging forgotten yet slightly raised in the air.

“Get away from that thing!” Stan barked, roughly pushing himself off the ground.

Dipper startled, turning back to the statue. His gaze fell to his still lifted hand, before he took an unsteady step backwards. Slowly at first, before he took another, and another, shaking his head seemingly subconsciously and gaining speed as he retreated. Line of sight never broken with the unmoving stone. His foot slipped on the wet grass and he fell backwards with a small cry. 

Stan caught him before he hit the ground. He could feel the boy trembling through his damp jacket. He briefly noted that Ford was right, it was way too thin for this weather. Stan shrugged off his own heavier coat and draped it over Dipper’s shoulders.

“What happened?”

“I… I… I didn’t…” Dipper mumbled incoherently, seeming half-dazed. Stan gave his shoulders a reassuring squeeze. At least he hoped it was a squeeze, it might have come off more as a shake. He wasn’t sure. He was too busy trying to figure out why the hell Dipper would step anywhere near anything that was even tangentially related to the monster that had nearly destroyed everything he cared about.

“Dipper, are ‘ya hurt?”

The kid’s eyes snapped to meet his. Wide and frightened. Stan really wanted to punch whatever had put his nephew into this state. He reminded himself of the sight of Bill turning into a million pieces as he socked him right in his dumb oversized eye, and felt a tiny bit better.

“Kid, I won’t be mad…” He forced his voice to remain even. “Just… What happened?”

The kid who all summer had been brave and headstrong now looked absolutely tiny, shivering in an oversized coat. It reminded Stan of that kitten he and Ford had found in the gutter once when walking home from school, wet and scared and looking absolutely abandoned. Dipper wasn’t supposed to look anything like that, and it made a coldness that had nothing to do with the rain or his soaked T-shirt settle deep in Stan's chest. He pulled the child close to himself, running a hand through his damp hair. The kid was cold against him, probably not bad enough to need medical attention, but he’d have Ford look him over once they got back. For now he simply held him close and somewhat warm.

Eventually, Dippers breathing smoothed out enough for him to force words through his lungs.

“I… I followed these lights and…” He sounded timid, fearful. But present again. He took a deep breath, before forcing the next words out. “I didn’t mean to! I thought-… S-Something with as much power as Bill had… Stan I thought I heard him!”

He gasped breathlessly, and Stan shushed him.

“He said he could fix everything . I didn’t mean to, I just…” Dipper broke off again, beginning to sniffle suspiciously.

Oh, perfect. The little gremlin had flashbacks. At least Stan hoped it was a flashback, and wasn’t that messed up? Hoping your barely teenaged nephew was already showing signs of a major stress disorder? But when the alternative was that demon still being around somehow… No. It was just the trauma speaking. It had to be.

He and Ford needed to get these kids therapists or something asap.

“’S okay, kid. He’s not here.”

“It’s not fair!” Dipper wailed. Any pretense of acting ‘mature’ seemingly having gone out the window. It wasn’t like Stan could blame him. “We survived the apocalypse! Everything was supposed to be okay, the bad stuff was supposed to be over!”

“I know ‘s not fair. You didn’t deserve this.”

“I’ve tried everything, I-…” His voice was muffled, speaking into Stan’s chest. His hands desperately clinging onto fistfuls of the sodden fabric.

“ Tried everything ? What do you mean?”

“Mom and dad. Everything I remembered from g-grunkle Ford’s journal.” Dipper gasped, his words picking up speed. “I couldn’t even try the zombie spell, it was a one time use- I- I tried to contact this Axolotl thing but it didn’t answer, I even tried to find their ghosts but...!”

Stan froze, he couldn’t let Dipper do this to himself. He was beginning to sound like Ford at his most desperate thirty years ago. He couldn’t just stand by and watch this happen. He could feel his heart break at the thought of crushing Dippers last hope. He hadn’t done anything to deserve that. But as painful as it was he couldn’t start healing if he refused to accept what had happened.

Stan remembered his own feelings after losing Ford to the portal. The uncertainty of not knowing whether his brother was truly gone forever, or if there was some way he could be saved, had nearly driven him mad. There was no closure. Just foolish hope that kept getting dashed over and over. Just rejection, and constantly being prompted again and again with the fact that nothing he did was ever enough to bring his brother back.

Yes, he had eventually succeeded, but he hadn’t known definitely that Ford was dead. It was a different situation. Wasn’t it?

Stan still couldn’t help feeling like a hypocrite as he spoke.

“Dipper… Don’t ghosts need, ya know, like... A grudge, or oath or somethin’? Didn’t the journal say they needed a reason?”

“They’re our parents ! Shouldn’t looking after me and Mabel be reason enough!?” Hurt. Betrayal. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

“You’re strong kids, and you can make it through this. I know that and… And they probably knew that too.”

“But what if I can’t?”

“I told ya already, ya little gremlin. If ya can’t do it alone, that’s fine. Cause ya ain’t alone.” Stan felt his own throat closing up on him. He hated this, having to see these kids, his kids, in this much pain. It hurt worse than any beating he’d gotten during his drifter days. He just wanted to hide the upset boy in his too-large jacket and hold him in his arms until the rain went away. Inside and out.

“I…” Dipper's voice was quieter this time, small and brittle. As if confessing some great sin. “I wish we’d spent last summer at home with them. I-I mean, if we’d done that we wouldn’t have gotten to know you and F-Ford would still be in the portal and I don’t want that I just…”

“It’s okay. I get it.”

“I wish we’d gotten to spend more time with mom and dad…”

“Yeah. Kids your age shouldn't be left behind like this. Ain’t right. But… It’s not your fault, ya hear? ‘S not your parents fault either. They didn’t mean to leave.” Stan felt Dipper nod shakily against his chest after a moment’s deliberation. “We can’t fix this. Ya can’t fix what has already happened. Just as little as I can fix forty years of being apart from Ford. But we can change what we do now. I can try to be better to Ford, and you…”

“... Mabel.” Dipper’s breathing hitched, Stan felt him go tense again. “Oh no… Stan I was terrible to her! The things I said were awful!”

Oh man, here it came.

“Yeah, okay. So ya messed up. Big deal. She’ll forgive you.”

“What if she doesn’t!? W-We’ve never fought that bad- I’ve never said things that bad to anyone! Especially not her !” Dipper’s panicked pitch rose despite Stan’s attempts to ground him, gently enfolding one of his smaller hands with his own.

“She’ll forgive you.” He asserted again, continuing before Dipper got the chance to protest. “I know, because I remember Ford yelling at me , calling me every name under the sun precisely because he knew it would hurt me. Because he was scared, and needed to feel in control by pushing someone else down. Sure as hell didn’t make it okay for him to say all that junk. But it didn’t change the fact that he was my brother, and didn’t stop me loving him.”

“What do I do?” Dipper's tone was small and pleading.

“Whaddaya think?”

“I…” Deep breaths. “I need to make things right. I have to let her know I didn’t mean it.”

“See? Yer smarter at thirteen than me and Ford were at four times that. Kid, don’t make her wait thirty years to hear you say that you’re sorry.”

Dipper nodded again. Stan could feel his posture begin to slouch against him. 

It’d been a long day, poor kid was probably exhausted.

Without giving another thought to the matter, he moved one hand behind the boy’s knees and lifted. He made a small noise of surprise, but didn’t object to being picked up. Stan briefly inspected his pant legs, they were muddy and torn, but it didn’t look like the kid had managed to hurt himself more than a few scrapes and cuts from the thorny undergrowth. But Stan was nothing if not a sucker with a too big heart wherever his family was involved, and he’d probably already thrown out his back today. So, carrying the bundled up boy safely above the muddy ground, he began walking back towards the house that might someday be a home.

Thirteen.

Dipper was thirteen. Technically a teen. He was far too old to be carried like a toddler, and deep down he knew he should probably be indignant at the babying. But he just couldn’t find it in himself to care. It was… Nice. He felt secure. Like despite all the things that had gone wrong, for just a little bit, he was safe and protected. Hidden from judgemental eyes by a jacket that smelled like smoke and the sea, and sheltered from the world by strong arms that wouldn’t let go and leave him alone again. He could hear Stan’s heartbeat, his head tucked safely against his chest. It was a constant and rhythmic reassuring sound. A sound that promised shelter and stability.

Heartbeats were probably the most underrated sound in the world, he decided.

It was something he had only ever thought about in terms of mechanical background noise before. Like gears in a clock. It was always there, and of course it would always be there. It was essential, but it was unremarkable. Because it was a given. It was something you were simply entitled to, and there was no way it could ever stop. 

Only it did stop. And when it did, it had suddenly felt like the world itself was the thing that had ceased. Everything had been put on hold. It wasn’t Dipper’s life that had ended, but it didn’t feel like it had really continued since then either. Although, maybe part of that was his own doing. He wasn’t sure he wanted it to continue yet. He wasn’t sure he was ready for things to go on again. To leave everything in the past.

Although, he thought as he began to catch the first glimpses of the Mystery Shack’s familiar outline through the gaps in the dense treeline, maybe not everything that was in the past had to be left behind. Gravity Falls had come back to him, even if it hadn’t been in the way he’d wanted it. Stan and Ford had come back the second he and Mabel had needed them. And Mabel… Mabel had never left in the first place. She never left his side, no matter how bad things got. He’d left hers.

He needed to fix this.

As soon as they took their first step back onto the Mystery Shack’s parking lot Dipper wriggled his way out of Stan's arms. He felt a brief pang of loss at the lack of comforting warmth as his sneakers touched back down on cold muddy earth. Still, it was one thing to be treated like a baby when nobody was around to see, and a whole other when Mabel and Ford might look out the window and see him any second.

Luckily the only other living thing within view was Gompers, happily chewing on something he shouldn’t be. At least that seemed to be a constant. He was going to ignore it, it didn’t seem like anything was capable of harming that goat’s stomach - maybe Ford should check if he had a black hole in it’s gut or something - and Dipper was too preoccupied trying to build up the courage to approach the house anyways. But then he realized exactly what the goat was eating.

“Gompers!” Dipper practically launched himself at the animal, much to Stan’s visible confusion. Hardly even noticing his pants becoming soaked through with mud as he wrestled the bright, colourful, book out of the vice grip that was the goat’s mouth.

He wasn’t entirely sure why the idea of letting the book be destroyed incensed him so much all of a sudden. It just did. Yes, he’d been mad about the tactlessness of it all earlier. But that was still Mabel’s scrapbook. It mattered to her, so it mattered to Dipper. Now that he actually thought about it, if it helped her get through a bad situation, he wanted her to have it. He wanted Mabel to be okay, he just didn’t want her to force him to be okay too. Not when he really wasn’t.

“Hey!” Stan picked up the goat, Dipper still hanging onto the book, and the animal relinquished its poor choice of snack with a sullen ‘baah’. Dipper fell flat on his back, but with the book securely in his hands. He hurried to shelter it from the rain beneath his borrowed jacket. Stan returned the animal to the ground where he scurried off towards the forest, presumably to find something he could eat with less opposition, and helped Dipper back onto his feet.

“Geez kid, the whole idea with me carrying you back was that you wouldn’t make even more of a mess of yourself.” Stan took off his red beanie, practically the only part of his clothes that had been kept safely out of the mud, and ineffectively attempted to wipe the new dirt from Dipper’s face. One hand on his jaw, firmly tilting his face towards him. 

The well meaning touch was grounding. It didn’t feel as… Soft(?) as being carried and hugged. More gruff and supportive than sappy. That was good, this felt less like Dipper was being clingy. Stan was there for him, and he just had to deal with it. That was much better for his pride.

Eventually Stan seemed to accept that trying to make Dipper look presentable was futile, letting his hands drop again. 

“Alright, you know what? Let’s just getcha inside so you can take a shower. Maybe Ford and your sister have started unpacking already.”

Dipper nodded tightly, approaching the door more as if it was the maw of a monster. He wanted to say no, he wasn’t ready yet. Balk and run back into the forest. He wanted to ask for more time. But whether he was ready or not, life had to continue. On one hand, the familiar building was comforting. But on the other, stepping inside and physically passing the threshold seemed like a far too tangible point of no return. Entering the building like a home for the first time, a permanent home, very distinctly made it clear that his old home was in the past.

As he stood on the patio, shifting on his feet and willing his legs to move, Stan opened the door. The familiar scent of old wood, of taxidermy and unidentifiable chemicals, seemed like an invisible barrier. One it would take monumental effort to overcome. It was so familliar it ached. So familiar it should be reassuring. But instead it just seemed daunting. Looming and large, and Dipper felt small in comparison.

Inside waited everything that scared him.

Inside waited a resignation he wasn’t sure he was ready to accept yet. Inside waited the acknowledgement of everything that had been forcefully changed and lost. Inside waited walls and rooms and things that should be recognizable but only felt off in context.

Inside waited Mabel. Hurt and scared.

At that thought, he moved again. Taking the plunge into the unfamiliar familiarity.

He flinched as the door shut behind him.

For a second, everything stilled. The first shock at entering cold water. The rain was muffled inside the gloom of the hallway. Far away. Everything seemed far away. The entire world seemed removed from this singular dim room. Dust particles danced warily in the light shining down from above the stairs, the patter of water on the tin roof outside was almost soothing.

Then Dipper allowed himself to breathe, and the world became unstuck.

Suddenly there were footsteps thundering down the creaking stairs, so hard and loud he swore he could see the railing shake. A light flickered on, Stan moved, Waddles squealed a floor above. Old floorboards shifted. Keys clattered. There was noise and light and movement everywhere. Threatening to overwhelm him all over again. Begging him to turn and run. Get away back to where things were quiet and made sense. Back into the trees. Back to Piedmont. Back to mom and dad .

Mabel appeared at the bottom off the stairs, jumping the last few steps in her hurry. She was bright and colourful, adding to the quiet cacophony around him again. Brighter even. If the rest of the overwhelming background noise was a too rapidly flickering lamp, then Mabel herself was a bolt of lightning . An explosion.

But just like after any explosion, it passed, and suddenly everything returned to stillness. Mabel’s usual energy and light faded as she came to a stop just a few feet in front of him. Her entire presence seemed to dim. The room along with it.

As the younger twins’ eyes met, he could see a hesitation in her’s that looked so unlike her it made him pause.

“D-Dipper, I-...” She began, before trailing off. Her gaze fell to the tattered planks under her feet, and when she returned it her eyes were glistening moistly. “I’m so sorry!” She cried. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I just wanted to help, I promise I-I’ll leave you alone if that makes you feel better, I just wanted-!”

Her words were spilling forth rapidly, stopping to gasp for breath in between every few stuttered apologies.

Dipper felt his own eyes sting. He didn’t want her to leave him alone, not for long at least. He had just wanted, needed, enough time to get his thoughts back in order. To get away from everyone, not just Mabel, before he ended up making things worse by lashing out at them. Not that it had stopped him in the end. He’d just wanted an escape when the world was too much. He didn’t want Mabel to go away. Not now, and not ever. Never for long.

She was all he had left of life before summer. The only one who knew exactly what he was going through, and wanted nothing more than to help simply because he mattered to her. Just as much as she mattered to him.

There were so many things he felt like he needed to say. Apologize right back, explain he wanted her to stay, tell her he wasn’t mad. There was so much to be said that he had no way how he could possibly fit it into coherent words. Mabel was the one who was good at talking, not him. Mabel would have probably known exactly how to get his thoughts out of his head and into the space between them. The small space that felt far too big. As if instead of a few feet of gloom and old floorboards, it was a gaping chasm. One he didn’t have the first clue how to bridge.

Mabel would know what to do.

If that was the case, what would she do?

Putting one foot forward, the plank creaked and stopped his sisters despairing tirade of self deprecation. He hesitated as she looked at him, eyes wide and unsure. Before he steeled himself and closed the gap in a few quick steps before enfolding her in a slightly unsteady hug.

Dipper felt her seize up against him, before the hug was reciprocated. Far tighter with years of practice. Her hands desperately grabbing onto the sodden fabric on his back. Heaving a breath and allowing herself to finally just cry onto his shoulder fully. No longer even trying to remain composed enough to speak.

Vaguely, Dipper heard another pair of footsteps descend the stairs. Longer strides, yet far more hesitant.

“Ah. Took you a lot shorter to figure that out than I.” Ford leaned over the railing, regarding the younger twins with amused fondness. A wistful smile on his face. His voice was calm and kind, but with an overtone of unmistakable relief.

Mabel laughed. It was watery and wavering, but the sound was a thousand times better than the frantic sobbing.

“Yeah, well that’s because Dipper gives the best hugs.” She pulled out of the embrace enough to look him over, her smile taking on a slightly impish leaning. “Even when he’s all gross and muddy.”

“ You’re gross.” Dipper shoved her face away, leaving a distinct dirty handprint on her cheek. She only laughed harder. “Seriously though. I don’t want you to go away.” He promised, looking at her with sudden sincerity. “We’ve had each other's backs for longer than we’ve been alive. I don’t want that to change.”

“You mean it?”

“I mean it. You’re stuck with me.” As he let her go again, he was reminded of the scrapbook hidden safely in one of the internal pockets of Stan’s jacket that still hung loosely on his shoulders. He quickly freed it from the damp cloth and presented it to his sister like a peace offering. “Here. Gompers was eating this.”

Of all things, Mabel hesitated.

“I don’t want you to feel bad if I have it.”

“I-...” Dipper began, uncertain. “I’m sorry. I really don’t mind you having this. Not if it helps you feel any better. I just felt like… I just didn’t want you to try and force me to be happy when I didn’t want to be.”

“I won’t, I promise. I promise I’ll not try and push you, I just…” Mabel reached out and accepted the binder, opening it to the final page she’d been working on in the car. It had sustained some water damage, and the frame had a narly imprint of goat teeth on it. But the pages were intact and the paint hadn’t bega running yet. Livestock and downpour be darned, Mabel's arts and crafts were made of stronger stuff. “I always thought when people were sad you were supposed to make them feel better. I thought that was what I was supposed to do.”

“It’s okay.” Dipper scratched at the back of his neck. “I appreciate the effort and all that, you know?”

“Yeah, well… If you want to, we can sit and feel sad together instead.” She offered with a supportive smile.

“Mabel, you shouldn’t be sad just because-”

“I am.” Before Dipper even got the entire sentence out, she interrupted. Taking a deep sigh and clutching the scrapbook tighter. “ I… I’ve pretty much been sad all the time these last months. I just thought it was better if it didn’t show. You know, everyone else was already sad, so I felt like someone had to not be.”

This time, it was Stan’s turn to butt into the conversation.

“Oh, sweetie… That’s not how this works. You’re a kid. ’S not your job to make us feel better. Nobody is asking that of ya, and if they do, you let me know cause I’ll not hesitate to fucking end them.”

“Language, Stanley.”

“Shove off, Sixer.”

“I agree with the sentiment though.” Ford conceded, finally leaving his perch at the stairs and coming down to join the rest of the family in the hallway.

“Good, cause ya should.” Stan looked at Ford with a faint smirk, before turning back to the kids. “Now, if we’re all done with the sappy stuff. Dipper, ya need to go get a shower and warm up before you catch your death and make your poor old uncles look bad.”

Dipper rolled his eyes, before kicking off his shoes and heading in the direction of the stairs. His wet socks leaving footprints on the wood.

“Oh! I’ll make some hot chocolate! That’ll help.” Mabel gasped, already bolting off into the kitchen.

“Great idea pumpkin.” He called after her, before turning to Ford and hissing: “Adult supervision.”

Ford responded with a resolute nod and followed the once again energetic girl into the kitchen.

Stan remained in the hallway for a second, sighing in relief and breathing in the almost palpable sense of family that suddenly seemed to permeate the creaky old house. Eventually shaking himself out of his distracted thoughts, and heading towards the downstairs bathroom to wash the forest off of himself as well.

Several hours later, having finally managed to get Mabel and her now significantly cleaner brother to go to sleep, - ‘But grunkle Stan, we didn’t have bedtimes this summer!’ ‘Yeah, well back then it wasn’t my job to play parent.’ - Stan wandered into the kitchen and paused. Under the harsh fluorescent light, Ford was asleep at the table. Miscellaneous papers practically creating a small nest around him. His face resting on a notebook next to the laptop they’d bought for skyping with the kids while out at sea. His glasses uncomfortably squished against his nose. Stan had no clue how Ford had managed to figure out the laptop but struggled to use a smartphone. Maybe it was the allure of internet and peer-reviewed science articles. It seemed like that was what was open in the browser at least, when Stan walked closer to check.

Yeah, something about… 

Oh.

Grief in Adolescents: The Importance of Establishing Routines - West Coast Psyc

How To Help Children Cope After The Death Of A Parent - AmericanHealthcareAdvice.org

Setting Expectations and Addressing Issues In Children’s Grieving process - UK Therapists Monthly

Now that Stan looked closer, most of the papers seemed to contain notes, more or less legible but all pertaining to the same topic. Checklists, reminders, and what looked like a half-written thesis hastily scrawled on spare copying paper. He gently shoved Ford's shoulder, taking a seat on the adjacent chair as the old nerd bagan stirring.

“Mh? Stanley?” Ford blinked blearily, adjusting his glasses before looking at the clock. “Ah, I apologize, I didn’t realize it was so late. Are the children in bed?”

“Tucked ‘em in an hour ago.”

At that, Ford blinked in confusion.

“They’re thirteen. They can put themselves to bed, can’t they?”

“‘S been a rough day.” Stan shrugged.

“We never needed this much coddling when we were their age.” His voice wasn’t judgemental necessarily, just genuinely bewildered.

“We never had anyone to coddle us. Trust me, they ain’t getting to sleep after a trainwreck of a day like this unless someone is there with ‘em. Learnt that the hard way after the whole zombie mess.”

Ford’s eyes lit up, the way Stan usually only saw whenever Ford stumbled upon some important clue when chasing monsters, and he scrambled for one of the scattered pens. Writing down this new tidbit on an already very busy looking post-it note.

“Sixer. What’re you doing?” Stan raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, well, just some research.” He looked vaguely embarrassed. “I’ll retire to bed soon.”

“You’re not in college anymore. No one’s ‘bout to quiz ya.”

“I know that.” Ford rolled his eyes with an indignant huff. “I was just thinking that… Well, I’m not good at this. To nobody's surprise.” Shame flashed across his features, but before Stan could say anything to contradict him he continued. Rambling on to cover the slip-up.

“When a situation can be studied and approached like science, it seems less daunting. Luckily, there is no shortage of academic research done on the subject of child psychology, so I’m certain I-”

“Ford.” Stan interrupted firmly. Placing one hand at his brother’s shoulder and only continuing when the other man relented and met his eyes. “Maybe, just this once, put aside the graphs and research papers and just do what feels right. They’re kids. Not specimen under a microscope. ‘S not your job to figure them out for them.”

Ford fidgeted under Stan’s gaze, his own eyes quickly dropping back to the nearest paper. Rather than answer, he simply pulled the paper over to himself and began doodling in a corner. Stan couldn’t help but sigh.

A part of him was privately pleased that even after all the years they’d spent apart, Stan still knew Ford’s body language and nervous ticks. He still clearly remembered troves of books and homework littered in tiny drawings stacked haphazardly in every corner of their childhood room. Still remembered Ford doodling to distract himself whenever mom and dad were arguing loud enough to be heard despite the closed door, or whenever the doctors were talking about his ‘condition’, or whenever people whispered behind their backs. Whenever he wanted to block out the world, didn’t like what he heard or saw, or whenever a conversation wasn’t going the way he wanted it to.

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Stan tried for a more comforting tone. “You did well with Mabel earlier today, from what she tells me.”

Ford went rigid, Stan could feel it all the way into the shoulder his hand still rested at. He scoffed, but it sounded hollow. The mocking covering shame.

“Well? You think I did well ? Stanley, if I hadn’t practically begged Fiddleford to walk me through it, Mabel would have still been borderline catatonic by the time you got home!” Ford met Stan’s eyes again, pulling his shoulder away. Practically bristling.

“Okay, well good on you for reaching out then!” Stan put his hands up defensively. “Look, I know yer used to having all the answers, but there’s no shame in askin’ when ya don’t.”

Look who’s talking. All those times you couldn’t bring yourself to call Ford and- 

Shut up, not relevant.

When Ford offered no reply, Stan continued.

“‘S not like I’m an expert at this either.” He shrugged. “I was thinkin’ we should probably get ‘em therapists or something. Ya know, to help ‘em with the stuff we can’t.”

That seemed to catch Ford off guard, at least. His earlier indignation suddenly forgotten and replaced with apprehension. 

“Therapists?”

“Hey, I ain’t exactly thrilled to relive my loony days either.” Stan muttered, before it hit him why Ford sounded so unsure all of a sudden. He’d gotten so used to having him back that at times he could almost forget that as far as his twin was concerned, they might as well still be in the early 80’s. He hadn’t been around to see most of the progress made on earth. In many ways, he was still playing catch-up. “Mental healthcare has gotten a lot better since we were young. Trust me on this one. I wouldn’t put the kid’s through anything I thought wouldn’t help.”

Ford deflated slightly, before noodling.

“Yes, of course. I know that.” Stan briefly wondered if he was trying to assure Stan or himself. Ford opened another window on the laptop Stan had almost forgotten about, typing in a search for local psychiatrists. As he did so, Stan got a glimpse into his brother’s recent searches along the same line.

“Local dentists? Don’t tell me you’re gonna start needing dentures soon too, do ya?” Stan asked, pointing to the autocomplete search suggestion. Ford looked confused yet again, before realizing what Stan was referring to and catching onto the fact that it was merely a friendly jab.

“Ah, that. That’s for Dipper and Mabel.” He explained. “It makes me feel better to keep busy, so I was trying to sort through some of the logistics while you were putting them to bed. I’ve looked at getting them set up with a pediatrician, and forwarding medical records. Also, I’ve located the necessary forms to fill out in order to get them enrolled in the local middle school as soon as possible.”

Ford turned the screen so Stan could see. Stan brightened and lightly punched his twin in the side.

“See? You take care of the planning, I’ll take care of the mushy stuff. We’ll make it work together.”

Ford looked at him, seeming just a little bit heartened by the reassurance.

Okay, so maybe they weren’t all the way there yet. And maybe they wouldn’t be for a long time. Maybe their family was weird, and broken, and mismatched. And maybe, some days it felt like it was barely held together with yarn and paper.

But they’d make it work together. There were no other options. They had to, because it was all they’d got.

One day, the house would be a home.