Mabel sighed and rolled over for the umpteenth time that night, wishing for sleep that wouldn't come. She had an uneasy feeling in her stomach that wouldn't go away, something nagging at the back of her mind. She'd tried to ignore it, thinking she was just being paranoid, but the longer she tried the worse it got.
She sighed heavily and sat up, rubbing her eyes and staring across the attic toward Dipper's bed, where her twin was sound asleep without a care. She wished she could sleep like that. She got up, slipping her feet into her fuzzy slippers, and tiptoed out of the room and down the stairs, hoping she could try her hand at heating up some milk. She'd never had warm milk before, but that was a saying, wasn't it? Warm milk helps people sleep? She was desperate to try anything.
But as she crossed the hall she heard something that stopped her before she made it to the kitchen. A muffled moaning coming from the room where her Great Uncle Ford had taken to sleeping. Mabel paused, wondering if she should dare. Perhaps not. Ford scared her a little bit, if she was completely honest with herself, and while he seemed very fond of Dipper he had spent very little time with her. Maybe it was because he just didn't like her as much.
She turned away from the door but was drawn back to it nearly immediately at the sound of a stifled shout, a sound of great distress. Maybe he was having a nightmare. She knew what those were like. She'd been having them frequently as of late, ever since the night she'd let go and let the portal open, allowing Ford to pass through back to this dimension. She at least had Dipper to run to when she had nightmares. But Ford had no one. She certainly couldn't see him seeking out comfort from his own twin. He and Grunkle Stan still seemed to be on terrible terms.
So she knocked softly on the door, calling out quietly, "Great Uncle Ford?"
She didn't get an answer; the question was met by more muffled groans.
Biting her lip, she nudged the door open, peering inside the room. Her great uncle was lying on the couch, apparently in great discomfort. He twitched and thrashed every few seconds, letting out small shouts. His expression was screwed up in what looked to Mabel like pain. She didn't like it. She felt terrible for him.
"Great Uncle Ford?" she whispered, creeping up to his side, growing desperate to end his internal masochism. "Great Uncle Ford, wake up!" She reached out a trembling hand and rested it on his shoulder.
At once he lashed out, his eyes flying open and his arm swinging at Mabel, catching her in the stomach and sending her falling backwards to the floor with a yelp. She landed painfully, a bit disoriented, and when she looked back up Ford was looming over her, and she was staring down the barrel of a gun.
She was too frightened to speak. Certainly too terrified to shout. A small whimper escaped her and she tried inching backwards, away from the weapon as tears welled up in her eyes and began to fall. All those dangerous adventures with Dipper, and this was how it was going to end? At the hand of a member of her family?
She couldn't bear the thought.
She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears, her breaths coming out in short breaths as she began to cry, expecting the sound of a gunshot at any second. She had known this was a bad idea. She should have just ignored the sounds and gone to the kitchen.
Or better yet, she shouldn't have even gotten out of bed in the first place.
When she felt the hand on her shoulder she jolted violently, recoiling away from the gentle touch. Her eyes flew open and she looked up, this time into the concerned expression of her Great Uncle Ford, who was kneeling in front of her with his left hand outstretched. "Mabel?" he whispered hoarsely, his expression a mix of shock and pain. "Mabel, I'm so sorry."
Her breath hitched. That was certainly a vast change in demeanor. One minute he had a gun on her, the next he was trying to offer her comfort? "Gr-Great Uncle Ford?" she choked out, staring up at him in fear. She didn't know what to trust.
He looked so remorseful, though, as he tried to explain. "Mabel, I… I never should have done that. It was… reflexive."
Mabel's eyes darted to the gun, still grasped loosely in his right hand at his side. Her breath caught in her throat and she shrunk into herself, letting out a frightened sob.
Ford noticed this, and hesitantly he put down the gun, sliding it away from him. "There," he said softly, holding out his hands so she could see they were empty. "It's gone. I'm not going to hurt you, Mabel. I would never do that."
She couldn't stop crying, her breaths short and ragged. "You… you…"
"I know," he said gently. "I'm sorry, Mabel. I just… I was scared," he admitted in a whisper. "And I never meant to frighten you, too."
Mabel collapsed to the floor, a mess of trembling limbs as she cried. "I didn't… I didn't mean to… I just wanted to… to help," she finally managed to gasp out.
Ford hesitated in reaching for Mabel again, but when he laid a hand on her shoulder this time she didn't flinch away. He didn't know what he could say to make it better. He was horrified with himself. The nightmares had been dark and awful, a shadowy beast pursuing him and gaining fast. He could have sworn he could feel the hot breath on the nape of his neck –
And then the plane had changed and, disoriented, he'd struck out at a new threat, a new attacker. It was only after he'd pulled his gun from beneath his pillow and held it on his opponent, feeling victorious, had reality begun to take root and he'd registered it was not a threat he was holding his weapon on.
It was Mabel. His great niece, who was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes and tears spilling onto her cheeks.
Shakily, Mabel sat up, tears still falling as Ford kept his reassuring hand on her shoulder, staring at her great uncle with an analytical gaze. Deciding if she really could trust him, or if she needed to distance herself. But it was still Mabel, and Ford wasn't too surprised when she inched close enough to him to throw her arms around his neck and proceeded to begin crying into his shoulder.
Ford wasn't extremely accustomed to physical contact yet, and especially not affection. But even though he was uncomfortable he didn't protest, keeping perfectly still for a moment before he remembered that one usually returned a hug, and wrapped his arms around his great niece. "I'm sorry," he mumbled again, shutting his eyes and lowering his head so his brow rested lightly in the crook between Mabel's neck and shoulder. He regretted a lot of things about his life. This occurrence was close to the top of his list. "I'm so sorry."
It took a couple of minutes for Mabel to cry herself out, and once her breaths had steadied and she was no longer crying she let go of her great uncle, sniffling and wiping at her eyes. "Sorry," she mumbled, her voice wobbling slightly.
"It isn't your fault," Ford assured her, picking himself up off the floor and offering her his hand. She took it, and allowed him to help her to her feet. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Mabel, what were you thinking, coming in here?"
She chewed nervously on her bottom lip. She felt like she was in trouble. "I couldn't sleep," she muttered. "I came down to get some warm milk or something to help and I heard you shouting… I felt really bad, so I came to check on you."
Ford watched her awkwardly. He hadn't meant to make her feel worse than she already did. "Come on," he sighed, nudging her out of the room. "I'll make you that milk."
She nodded, shuffling back into the hall with Ford following her as they proceeded to the kitchen. Ford turned on the light and started pulling two mugs out of the cupboards. Might as well have some for himself as well. Mabel went to the table and sat herself down, watching her great uncle as he rooted through the cupboards, pulling out honey and vanilla. "What are those for?" she asked, resting her chin on the table's edge.
"Hm? Oh… this is how I used to make it," Ford mumbled, pulling the milk out of the fridge and filling the mugs.
Mabel observed as he squirted honey into the mugs and stuck both of them into the microwave. "I didn't know you had to add stuff to it," she said.
"I don't think it's necessary, no," Ford said, feeling the corners of his lips twitch into a brief, amused smile. "But it sure makes it taste better."
"Huh," Mabel mumbled, quieting. The kitchen was silent save for the soft hum of the microwave, and when it beeped Ford pulled the mugs out and added some vanilla to both, stirring the concoctions before coming over to the table and seating himself, setting one mug in front of Mabel. She took an experimental sip and grinned. "This is really good."
"Glad to hear it," Ford smiled back, sipping at his own mug. He hadn't had something this sweet in years.
They sat in silence for several moments, Ford wondering if he should say anything, but Mabel spoke first. "What did you mean when you said you used to make this?" she asked.
Ford sighed. It still hut him a bit to talk about the past. But after the scare he'd given her, he wasn't going to dodge around answers. "When Stanley and I were children, we'd sometimes sneak down to the kitchen and make this for ourselves."
Mabel smiled. "Dipper and I sometimes sneak down to the kitchen too. But mostly for midnight snacks."
Ford chuckled. "Sounds about right."
She took another drink, sighing contentedly, before she set her mug down and looked at Ford, her gaze turning, what seemed to Ford, far too intense for a twelve year-old. "What were you having nightmares about?"
Ford sat back in his chair, grimacing. "I'm not really sure you want to know."
"Yes I do," she insisted. "I have bad dreams too, but I can go to Dipper when I get them. Having somebody to lean on helps. But… you don't have somebody like that. So I'll be that person for you."
God, that was too profound. Much too profound for a twelve year-old. What had these kids been through, that Mabel could be mature beyond her years? Sure, she acted silly most of the time, but when it really mattered it seemed like she always knew exactly what to say. "Alright, Mabel," Ford said, holding his head. "Life in the portal… it wasn't easy. I never knew where I was going to end up. Sometimes I landed in a friendly place. Sometimes I landed somewhere deserted and was alone for days before I could open the portal again and jump through to a new dimension. And sometimes… sometimes I arrived in a new place and was hunted immediately. Sometimes for sport rather than necessity."
Mabel was staring at him with wide eyes. "You dream about that?"
"Sometimes," Ford sighed. "A lot. Like tonight. I was in the middle of a dream where I was being pursued, and if I was caught… that would be it for me. So when you woke me up, I went on the defensive." He lifted his head and gave Mabel a stern look. "So I need you to promise me that you won't wake me up like that again, Mabel. I didn't pull the trigger this time, but next time… next time I may not come around in time to distinguish you from an attacker."
She looked mortified as she nodded, bobbing her head up and down obediently. "Yeah… I promise," she mumbled, grabbing for her cup again and staring into its contents. She felt awful. She hadn't realized…
"You know I'm not mad, right?" Ford asked gently. It was important to him that she knew that, especially because he hadn't spent much time with her before tonight. But he was still very fond of her, and he would like the opportunity to spend more moments with her. Just not like this.
She stared up at him. "You're… you're not?"
"Of course not," Ford smiled reassuringly, reaching out a hand to pat her shoulder. "You were only trying to help."
She smiled shyly up at him and took another drink.
Ford relaxed a bit, glad to know his niece was no longer afraid of him, before he remembered something she had said. "Mabel, what are your nightmares about?"
Her face fell. "Oh. Um…" she chewed on the inside of her cheek.
Ford understood her reluctance, but felt like she needed to get her fears out in the open. She'd been there for him. His turn to be there for her. "You can trust me, Mabel," he said gently.
Her expression of worry softened, and she took a deep breath and nodded. "Dipper," she mumbled. "And… and Bill."
Ford stiffened. He knew Bill had been tormenting the kids this summer, Dipper in particular. He just hadn't realized Mabel had been so affected as well. "What about Dipper?" he asked. Any dreams that had to do with Bill he was very wary of.
"Dipper… he was really mad when I didn't push the button," Mabel whispered. "The button that would have shut down the portal before it brought you back. He thought I'd betrayed him. And… I know things turned out okay, but sometimes I have nightmares that he was so mad at me and Grunkle Stan that… that he sided with Bill against us."
"That's not going to happen," Ford said firmly.
"I… I know, but—"
"No buts, Mabel. You don't have to worry about that," Ford said. "Dipper knows better than that. Bill isn't going to get anywhere near him."
Mabel sighed and nodded. "Okay." She seemed to be relaxing considerably. It made Ford feel just a bit better.
Silence fell over them again, Ford watching Mabel closely as she finished off her mug. He'd been primarily concerned about Dipper since he'd discovered Bill had made a reappearance, but now he was realizing he needed to keep a better eye on Mabel as well.
She folded her arms on the table and rested her cheek over them. "That really helped," she mumbled.
Ford smiled a bit as he drank down the last of his mug. "It always does." He wasn't feeling the effects as strongly; but then, he was quite a bit bigger than his niece. He stood up and took both mugs to the sink, washing them out and leaving them on the counter to dry. When he turned back around, Mabel was half-asleep at the table. It was rather endearing.
Chuckling quietly, he scooped her up out of the chair. "Come on. Let's get you back to bed." He carried her from the kitchen and nudging the light switch off with his elbow before ducking into the hall and mounting the stairs.
This was a whole new side of Ford, Mabel considered groggily as he carried her back to bed. She certainly hadn't expected this from him. She thought he was going to usher her out of the kitchen and tell her to go back to bed, not bring her there himself.
Ford kept his footsteps soft so he wouldn't disturb Dipper as he crossed the attic and set Mabel down in her bed. "There," he whispered, turning back to the door. "Goodnight, Mabel."
"Wait." The soft request made him pause and turn back around, and he didn't expect her to hug him again. "Sweet dreams, Grunkle Ford," she mumbled.
He smiled. This kid…
Ford returned the hug. "Sweet dreams to you, too."
I'm still on a huge Mabel and Ford fluff kick. I found some writing prompts that work really well, so I've got all these ideas or more...
I'd love your reviews! Thanks for reading!