I've been upset with Ford lately, so I figured the only way to get him to do what I would like him to is to write him in a fanfiction. Also, we as a fandom could use a little more Mabel and Ford interaction / fluff. Enjoy!
Mabel wasn't bored, per say, but playing tag with only Waddles for company was getting tedious. Grunkle Stan and Dipper had gone to the store twenty minutes ago, and who knew when they'd be back. Mabel could only chase after her beloved pet pig and wait for Dipper to return so they could do something fun.
Waddles wriggled under a fallen tree and kept running. "Waddles! Wait!" Mabel exclaimed, eagerly crawling onto the tree branch in pursuit of her pet. She ran along the length of it and leapt over one of the branches to get back to the dirt path Waddles was still racing down – but her foot caught on a tree branch and she went hurtling toward the ground, putting her hands out in an attempt to catch herself. She landed hard, slamming onto a patch of jagged rocks that had caught the tree when it fell, and she cried out as she heard her sweater ripping and felt a stinging pain shoot up her arm.
"Owowowowowow," she groaned, tears welling in her eyes as she sat up and looked at her arm to assess the damage. She almost screamed. Her sweater sleeve was a mangled, torn mess, but worse was the long gash on her forearm, gushing blood.
"Waddles!" she yelled, knowing she had to get back to the Mystery Shack but not wanting to abandon her pig. "Waddles, come back! We've got to go!"
She heard him squeal and he came running back up the path toward her, stopping and nuzzling his snout against her hand. She smiled weakly, glad to have the support. She could barely see through the tears in her eyes. She wiped them away and stood, gripping the shoulder of her injured arm.
The trek back to the shack seemed to take forever. When she finally stumbled onto its lawn she grew discouraged. Grunkle Stan's car was still gone. He wasn't home yet.
That left her with only one other option, but she really didn't want to go see her Great Uncle Ford. He was always in the basement and talking about his research, and he liked Dipper a lot more than her. But she was desperate.
"Great Uncle Ford?!" she called, her voice cracking as she went through the door of the gift shop. She didn't receive an answer, but saw a glowing blue light flickering from behind the vending machine. She didn't want to go down into the lab hidden behind it, but her arm felt like it was on fire.
She punched in the code and opened the secret door, gripping the wall for support as she descended the stairs. "Great Uncle Ford!" she called again, a little more desperately.
"Mabel?" she heard his voice and the blue light faded, and as she stepped through to the lab he was quickly throwing a sheet over the glass window that offered a view of the room with the portal. He turned, looking angry. "What did I tell you about coming down here?" he demanded furiously. "My research is extremely dangerous, and—" he stopped short when he registered the state his niece was in; crying with her left arm caked in blood. "What happened?!" he asked, rushing forward.
She sniffled and tried to explain. "I was playing with – with Waddles and I fell, and — and Grunkle Stan and Dipper left, and—" she broke down, unable to keep her composure any longer. "I think I need to go to the hospital!" She started sobbing, thinking about it. She hated hospitals, because they were buildings filled with sad and broken people, and she didn't want to be sad and broken. And aside from that, if she needed stitches they were going to hurt. And they would need to use needles. She was terrified of needles.
"Now, calm down," Ford tried to reassure her, not entirely sure how to console his distressed great niece. "Let me see your arm."
She nodded, holding out her right arm and rubbing at her eyes with her free hand. Ford peeled away the remnants of her sweater sleeve to look at her injury. It was definitely deep enough to require stitches, and the skin was jagged as though it had been torn instead of cut. "What did you hurt yourself on?" he asked.
She was beginning to pull herself together again, but still looked utterly miserable. "I fell on top of some sharp rocks."
He had assumed as much. "Well, it's definitely going to need medical attention," he told her, and at this news Mabel started crying all over again.
"I don't want to go to the hospital!" she wailed, burying her face in Ford's coat sleeve as she cried, seeking some modicum of comfort.
"Calm down," Ford said again, almost pleadingly. He didn't know what to do about her crying. "It's okay. We won't need to take you to any hospital. I can fix you up right here."
She sniffled a few times, lifting her head and looking up at Ford with red, puffy eyes. "You can?" she asked.
"Sure. I had to patch myself up plenty of times in the portal; I've got all sorts of supplies," Ford explained, relieved she had stopped crying. He stood up and ushered her to the chair at the computer console. "Sit right here; I'll go get my med kit."
"Okay." She did as she was told, nervously picking at a scab on her knee as she waited for her great uncle to come back over. She hoped nothing he was going to do would hurt.
He reappeared at her side, dropping a black bag on the floor next her chair while she was lost in thought, and when she looked up and saw the scissors gleaming menacingly in his grasp she screamed and frantically tried to get up, but he stopped her. "Whoa, Mabel. Calm down," he assured her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I need to cut that sweater away so I can see your injury better, alright?"
"Oh," Mabel mumbled, embarrassed. In any other circumstance she would have protested against the ruining of one of her beloved hand-knitted sweaters, but this one was already ruined anyway, and if she was completely honest with herself, Ford scared her just a bit.
Ford cut the sleeve off entirely, peeling spare threads that had stuck to Mabel's arm with blood away, and set them and the scissors aside. He knelt in front of his niece. "Okay, let's see what the damage is."
Mabel surrendered her arm and squeezed her eyes shut as her great uncle more closely examined her cut. "You've got a couple small rocks lodged in here," he informed her, and she grimaced.
"What are you going to do?" she whimpered.
Ford smiled reassuringly as he opened the black bag. "Don't worry. It'll be fine," he said, rummaging around before he found what he was looking for. "Here we go." He pulled out a pair of forceps and a small can of some sort of spray. He uncapped the bottle and positioned the nozzle over Mabel's injury. "This is going to sting for a minute, but after that you won't feel a thing." He pressed down and a mist descended over Mabel's forearm. She cringed and let out a small noise of pain. It didn't just sting, it burned.
"I know it's not pleasant," Ford said sympathetically. "But it stops the bleeding and will deaden your pain receptors long enough for me to fix you up."
He was right. After a few more seconds the pain went away completely, and Ford turned his attention to plucking pebbles out of the gash in her arm with his forceps. There were more than he'd initially thought. After he'd removed five of them and was certain he'd gotten them all, he reached into his bag again, looking for the rest of the things he'd need. He found the bandages and disinfectant quickly enough, but the mall tube of salve he really needed for her took a bit longer, as it had fallen to the bottom of the bag. After a few moments of frustrated digging he pulled it out, feeling triumphant. "There it is," he mumbled to himself, and then turned back to Mabel. She was certainly not crying anymore; in fact, she was watching him curiously.
Ford picked up his disinfectant and sprayed it into her wound to get rid of any potentially dangerous bacteria and then took the salve and uncapped it. "Alright, Mabel, I need you to listen carefully. I got this in the portal; it's a regeneration salve. If you keep it applied to your cut for twenty-four hours it'll heal and you won't even have a scar to indicate you injured yourself in the first place. But if you remove it before time's up, it won't work and your injury will go back to the way it was. I'm going to bandage your arm up with it, but only if you can promise you'll keep it on for twenty-four hours."
Mabel nodded. "I promise."
That was good enough for him. He smeared the salve over her arm and quickly wrapped the bandage around it, making sure it was tight and secure before he sat back. "There you go," he announced. "Good as new."
He got the wind knocked out of him when Mabel leapt from her seat and into his stomach, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. "Thank you, Grunkle Ford!" she exclaimed, wondering why she'd ever thought he was scary. Ford was a nice man.
Ford, uncomfortable with affection, awkwardly patted her head. "Don't mention it, Mabel," he said, his gaze softening as he looked down at his niece. "That's… that's what family is for."