A/N: This is a story that I wrote entirely to give 80's Ford a hug but almost 5,000 words of hugless plot later I regret everything. I have three chapters written and I'm working on the fourth.
Gravity Falls in the winter is kind of peaceful.
Well, it's a small town in the middle of nowheresville, Oregon- of course it's going to be quiet. There's the occasional gnome attack, but you'd gotten used to them and the other various supernatural creatures ages ago. You'd grown up here, after all.
However, one thing was new this year- the mysterious scientist who lived in the woods. Not Fiddleford, he came into town often and was happy to chat with people, everyone knew him by now. He had an accent, he had helped Susan fix the broken oven in the diner, and he had fun stories about his farm when he was a kid.
No, his partner was the mystery. S… S something. Stanley? Samuel? Whatever it was, he only ever appeared to buy supplies then sweep back to his backwoods cabin out on Gopher Road. He wore a trench coat. You'd seen him approximately three times. Once in the diner, ordering coffee, once at the hardware store buying a blowtorch, and once in the middle of the woods with a net, chasing after pixies.
It didn't tell you much besides the fact he hadn't figured out that the pixies would come to you if you had honey.
Maybe it wasn't the best idea, but you hadn't always had the best ideas, you'd run out of books to read, and something in you itched for an adventure, but you found yourself traipsing through the December snow to that creaky house that already looked old at the end of the road. Fiddleford had always been so kind, and you'd always liked talking to the shy ones in class. S-whatever probably was the same. He didn't seem much older than you, after all. Maybe he just needed a friend.
…Those barrels out front probably were full of some kind of science goo. This was Gravity Falls, not some place that would end up on the news because somebody had toxic waste.
The floorboards of the porch creaked under your winter boots, and you knocked on the door twice. Snow plopped off the roof and unto the ground, crushing a solitary weed that had squirmed up through the frost. Footsteps clomped towards the door, but it didn't open.
"Who is it?" His voice was shaky, and you puzzled over a response for a moment.
"My name is Miranda, I'm just here to talk. Is this a bad time?"
"Who are you?" The doorknob rattled, but the door remained shut.
"Um, I'm… Miranda. I'm twenty two, I was just curious what you do out-" The door nearly slammed you in the face as he pointed a flashlight to your eyes, a snarl on his lips. The light burns, but he only leaves it on for a moment before being satisfied by whatever he did (or didn't) see.
You regret coming the moment he tugs you in by your wrist, reminders of stranger danger floating around in your head. You can still feel the wind and snow swirling at your back, but he just tugs his coat tighter around him with his free hand as he narrows his eyes.
"Why are you here?"
"I… well, I haven't seen Fiddleford in town for nearly a week, and I've always been sort of interested in science, and… are you all right?" It had taken until you'd seen him in flickering light, but he didn't look very well. There were bags under his eyes, and his skin was sallow and sagging, as if he'd lost weight.
"That's a good one. You just happened to show up when you've never wanted to be here before?" His nails dig into your wrist as he flips your hand over, tugging off your glove and shining his flashlight at your palm. He yanks it up to eye level, and you stumble forward, barely managing to avoid crashing into him. "Fingerprints look legitimate…"
"Seriously, are you okay? It's freezing in here, you don't have any heat on. Is that a dinosaur skull? Why were you looking at my-"
"Shh, he's- what did you say your name was? Never mind, it's not important. You shouldn't be here, why are you here?"
His eyes are twitching, and he looks like your friend after she stayed up two days straight during a particularly strenuous final. "I was just… wondering, is all. About your fancy science stuff. I saw you chasing after pixies once, so… you like Gravity Falls for the supernatural stuff too, right? I have some stories-"
He sets his hands on your shoulders, squeezing in the fabric of your coat. "Listen. You don't want to be involved with me, with this. Leave, and don't come back. Tell everyone to stay away. This is dangerous, awful, it's a mess, it's a mess-" He's started shaking, and you set a hand on top of one of his. Something feels weird- does he have too many fingers?- but it seems to calm him down, at least a little.
"I'm not gonna hurt you. I'll… I'll go."
"Yes. Yes, go, that's a good idea." He lets go, raking a hand through his hair. It's slick, but more like he hadn't washed it in a few days than the shine of hair gel.
He ushers you out the door, and it isn't until it clicks shut that you realize a piece of paper is stuck to your boot. The wet snow has made half of it indecipherable, but the parts that are are scribbles of some kind of were-cougar. It's apparently a cougar that turns into a much bigger cougar on full moons.
Huh. You'd never seen that before.
_
It was two days before you found yourself on his doorstep again. You hadn't even gotten his name yet, but… he'd looked like he needed help. Badly. You'd been in that sort of place before, that place when you didn't want to admit you felt like shit and didn't care about life anymore, and if you could help someone out of there, you damn well were going to do it.
You had macaroni and cheese in a thermos. It wasn't very classy but it would have probably melted your mom's tupperware so it was better than nothing.
You knocked twice. "It's me again!"
"Who?"
"Miranda! I came a few days ago, you shined a light in my eyes?"
Something metal jangled before the door creaked open.
"What did… did I tell you to leave?"
"Yes, but I wanted to give you this." You hold out the thermos. "It has mac and cheese. I know it's not much, but it didn't look like you'd eaten."
He stares at you like you'd grown horns.
"You can look at my hands again, if you want."
"What do you care about hands?" His tone shoots to defensive almost immediately.
"Well, you wanted to see mine last time. Something about the fingerprints. I dunno what you were looking for."
He blinks before taking a step back, and you hear a series of crashes before he's pushing the door open the rest of the way. You take that as a cue to step in, nearly tripping over a cage that only went up just past your ankle. "Woah!"
"Ah, my- my apologies, I wasn't expecting- it was- nothing."
Turning slightly to your left to the stairs shows three chairs- all different- and another cage twice the size of the one that almost made your teeth get acquainted with the wooden floorboards. Either someone had had a fit or he'd been blocking the door and needed to chuck them away to let you in.
"I know I'm probably intruding but… I noticed you didn't look so hot, last time. I know mac and cheese always makes me feel better."
You hold out the thermos again, and he takes it from you, setting it on a small table littered with printer paper.
"Oh. Um. Thank you." He stares at you for a few moments, scanning you up and down. Even in a puffy coat, you feel almost naked. "Why did you do that for me? I don't know you. Is this a trick?"
"I… I've been where you are." You swallow, about to continue, but then he suddenly smiles. It doesn't look like he's happy- his eyes are watering- but it shows off a chipped tooth and blood on his gums.
"You think you've been where I am? You know what- what I've been through? You… you couldn't possibly…!" His mouth extends to the point where you wince for his cheek muscles, but this feels like a horror movie. You take a step backwards as he slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide and something that's both a sob and a distorted laugh forces its way out of his throat. His body starts shaking again, and you raise a hand to your own mouth.
Whatever is wrong with him, if he doesn't get help he is going to hurt himself. You know this for certain- and you knew a panic attack when you saw one.
"Hey, it's okay. Breathe." You can't force your feet to move closer, but you can ball your hands into fists and shove them into your coat pockets. "It's all right, let it out, take a breath." He's still wide-eyed, looking at something above you and a million miles away. "With me, in one thousand, two one thousand, out one thousand, two one thousand."
He squeezes his eyes closed, nodding his head far faster then the pace you're setting, but you try again. "In one thousand, two one thousand, out one thousand, two one thousand. Focus on my voice. Just think of the snow falling outside. It's nice and even and slow. Focus on your hands, squeeze your fingers, focus on how it feels against your palm… okay, let them go."
He took another deep breath before opening his eyes again. The right one looks more bloodshot than the left but they're both more grounded than they were before.
"…Thank you."
You force up a smile even though your heart is pounding. "You're welcome. I've had panic attacks before, I know they majorly suck. That's part of why I came- I wanted to know if I could help."
"Help?" He wraps his arms around himself, and you notice the elbow is burnt off the left sleeve.
"Yeah, help. I don't want anybody going through that junk alone, after I did." You take a few steps forward, and your boots crinkle more paper.
He takes a few steps back as you move, so you stop.
"No, no. No, this is a trick, I can't trust you, can't trust anyone, can't-"
"I promise, I'm not going to hurt you." You have a sudden idea. "How about I prove it?"
"How?"
You grab the thermos of noodles. "How about we split it? You know it's not poisoned or whatever, I'll know you're eating. That's the first thing I know I stopped, anyway- eating properly."
He stares at you for a solid fifteen seconds before nodding slowly.
"Fine."
Over the next week, you learn new information bit by bit. His name is Stanford. He's been in Gravity Falls for six years now. He came here because it's one of the weirdest places in the world, something you think is accurate and also really neat. You can't imagine the town without talking squirrels or the occasional wandering vampire.
He's done something bad. He refuses to specify what, or to let you past the living room, but considering every time you see him he's got a new bandage somewhere, he's still beating himself up for it.
Your suggestion that he go to the hospital for a few days nearly gets a fork in your neck so you decide to not mention it again.
You're pleased that he's gained a tiny bit of color, but the bags under his eyes only continue to get deeper. There are always mugs half-filled with coffee scattered around, but if you ask how long it's been since he's slept, he simply waves it off, that he has too much work to do.
You never visit for long- he usually shoos you out within fifteen minutes, but by the third time, you've developed a routine- he gives you a code word at the end of one visit, and you'll say it the next so he knows it's you.
Unfortunately, you never really learn what he thinks some mysterious 'other you' with sinister intentions could be.
A particularly cloudy Thursday, when he answers the door he's got a creepy grin on his face and his glasses glint gold.
"Hey! Come in, come in! I'm so glad you're here, I've been dying to show you something!"
He didn't even ask for the code word, but you step inside anyways. Maybe you were just dumb that way. Maybe you'd started to like the way his hands darted about, and how he looked when he explained something, lighting up and showing you a hint of what he'd used to be.
Maybe it was something more than just trying to prevent the continuation of a spiral like your own.
"What do you want to-" you start, but Stanford shoved something that smelled rancid into your face. It took a moment for your crossed eyes to adjust, and you saw fur and blood and white squirming maggots. Upon stumbling back, you realized it was a deer head, with the antlers replaced with a crown of rabbit's ears. Knives stabbed into both eyeballs, and blood drooled down the cheeks of the animal.
You bit your lip, forcing yourself not to look away. "That's… interesting. Very dark."
"Oh, that's nothing! Wanna see what I did to myself?" You nearly vomit as he drops the deer head (that hits the wood with a meaty THWAUMP) and rips back his sleeve to show fresh burns, ragged cuts zigzagging across them like a sick facsimile of stitches on a baseball.
"Wh-what…"
"I'm a bit out there, see!" His grin grew wider. "It's not safe, y'know- one day I'm just curled up on a puddle of my own tears, the next I'm doing taxidermy on live animals! It's a toss-up, curly, and I think you might wanna stay away! That sound good?"
You nod mutely, stomach still turning with bile. The blood from the deer splattered unto your pants and shoes.
"Toodles!" He roughly shoves you through the door and off the porch, slamming it hard enough to make a single bird that had braved the winter fly off with an indignant 'CAW!'.
You shiver in the snow for a moment before coming to your senses and bolting.
A/N: Reviews are my sustenance. Feed meeeee