Ford rather enjoyed having the house to himself; it was relatively rare, but when Stan was away for some alone time at the lake, Dipper was spending time with his teenage compatriots, and Mabel was off wooing her latest love interest, he was entirely free to do whatever he pleased.
Deciding it was time for some sustenance after several hours spent in his private study reading Encyclopedia of the Strange, he wandered into the kitchen and opened up the refrigerator, humming in thought.
He froze when he heard sobs coming from up the stairs.
Closing the refrigerator, he cocked his head to the side in order to listen more closely. Unmistakably, somebody was crying. And unmistakably, it was Mabel.
Ford's first instinct was to walk up to the attic, but he hesitated on the first step and bit his lip. What was his plan for once he got up there? What could he possibly do to comfort his niece? Would he ask her why she's crying or just ignore it and try to get her mind off of things?
He closed his eyes and tried to remember what he did to comfort Stanley when they were younger, but it didn't help. Back then, Ford always knew what was wrong. He didn't have to ask because there was never a question, and he always knew what to say.
But Ford couldn't even talk to Stan anymore.
He leaned against the wall, head in his hands. If it were Dipper, it would be different. Ford would still feel horribly awkward and not know how to approach the issue and probably say something wrong, but it would be different because it would be Dipper and he could talk to Dipper. He could relate to Dipper. Ford understood how Dipper's mind worked and would be able to calculate the correct response. Even if Ford wasn't good with kids, Ford was good with Dipper.
But Mabel?
Ford adored Mabel. He really did. She was sweet and pure and despite being Stan's foil in every way, she somehow reminded Ford of his brother. But Mabel was a bit of a wild card. There was no predicting what might be bothering her, and the probability that Ford would have any idea how to console her was practically nonexistent. Perhaps Ford should just wait for someone else to come home. Dipper would undoubtedly understand how to help his twin feel better, and Stanley had always been so good with children, especially the niblings. And neither of them would make it worse the way that Ford would. It would only be – he glanced at his watch – a few hours before one of them came home; surely, Mabel would be fine until then...
But when Ford heard another blubbering cry escape from his niece, a protective instinct flared up in his chest and he ascended the stairs without another thought. He couldn't stand to hear her suffer when he knew that there may be something he could do to help. Even if the probability was low and he didn't know where to start, he had to try.
He knocked hesitantly on the attic door, which was shut tight, and Mabel abruptly silenced her cries. "H-hello?"
"It's your Great Uncle Ford, Mabel," the old man said softly. After several long moments of silence (silence except for the occasional small hiccup or sniffle from Mabel's end), Ford ventured to prompt Mabel in the least intrusive way he could manage. "I had thought that I would be alone here for a bit longer. When did you come home?"
To Ford's surprise, Mabel's immediate response to this was a choked apology: "I'm sorry."
With those two simple words, Mabel had managed the rare feat of rendering the articulate author speechless. Of all emotions, why would Mabel be sorry? Had he accused her of something accidentally? "What are you sorry for?"
"I know you like being alone. I didn't mean to interrupt you... I'll try to be quieter."
Ford knew that he hadn't been bonding with Mabel quite as much as he should, but had he really been so cold to her that she felt the need to hide from him? "Nonsense. In fact, I was beginning to feel a little lonely." After he spoke, he was surprised to find that he wasn't lying. "Now, why did you come home so early? Is everything alright?"
The tap tap tap of small ballet flats against the hardwood floor was a relieving sound to hear. Mabel was going to talk to him. So far, he was doing a good job.
But it was hard for Ford to ignore the paradoxical anxiety that was simultaneously rising in his stomach. Mabel was going to talk to him. The opportunity for him to screw this up was getting closer.
All of the mixed feelings swirling within Ford's chest and gut and mind vanished suddenly, easily replaced by paternal instinct when he saw the flushed, tear-stained face of his dear niece as she creaked open the door. He saw her, and he didn't care about calculated plans or his fear of failure anymore. All that he cared about was seeing her smile again.
"Grunkle Ford, am I ugly?" she boldly asked.
Ford gaped at the twelve-year-old, nonplussed. Of all the potential outcomes that Ford had considered, this was one that never even crossed his mind. "Excuse me?"
"I asked you if I was ugly."
"Why would you ever ask something like that, Mabel?" He stooped down to her level. "Why would anyone ever think that you're ugly?"
"Well..." Mabel looked away, embarrassed. "You know how I was hanging out with Ren today?"
Ford did vaguely remember Mabel saying something this morning about a boy named Ren and the perfect sweater for the perfect date and today was the day he would realize his love for her. He nodded, prompting her to go on.
"Well, uh, we were having a really fun time in the park, and the picnic was so good and the birds were singing and the sky was gorgeous and he was gorgeous... It was such a perfect moment, and so- and so I tried to kiss him, and- and h-he said-" She cut herself off, burying her face in her sweater as the tears threatened to fall again, her chest rising and falling unevenly. "I-it's stupid."
Ford thought back to the time he confided in his father about the older kids teasing him about his polydactyly, how Filbrick had chastised and patronized him for getting upset over something so unimportant. He thought about how for the rest of his life, he never felt comfortable coming to his father when he was feeling upset or depressed. "If it's made you this upset, then it can't be stupid, Mabel," Ford assured her. "I promise I won't make fun of you if you tell me."
Mabel still seemed reluctant to speak, but she continued. "H-he said h-he was okay b-being my friend, b-but he wouldn't be caught d-d-dead kissing a girl as u-ugly as me!" She erupted into sobs, furiously wiping her tears away.
Ford clenched his fists, half expecting the girl to start laughing and explain that it was all a joke and this Ren guy had actually been a perfect gentleman and treated Mabel as nothing less than the princess that she is. But instead, Mabel continued.
"A-and then he just kept going!" she hiccupped, becoming more and more difficult to understand through her hyperventilation. "H-he said I dr-dress bad, a-and my br-braces m-make me look l-like I have train t-tracks in m-my mouth and my ch-cheeks are t-too fat and my h-hair is- is greasy and– a-and-"
"Mabel." Ford stopped her right there. He couldn't listen to it anymore. The rage building inside of him was getting too strong, and he was starting to actually consider whether it would be acceptable to beat up a fourteen-year-old boy. He reached out a hand to place on her shoulder but hesitated before making contact. Was this one of those things that he should be asking for permission to do? He didn't want to make his niece uncomfortable. "Would it be alright if I-"
Mabel interrupted her grunkle by throwing herself into him, tightly wrapping her arms around his neck and bawling into his chest. Ford easily returned the hug and held her close; he wanted so desperately to protect her, to keep her secure in his arms until she believed with all her heart just how beautiful and precious she was.
They sat like that for a long time, Ford gently stroking Mabel's hair while she cried herself out. When her tears finally stopped and her breathing started to become more even, she ventured to speak again, her voice quiet and muffled through the fabric of her great uncle's sweater. "I never thought about how I look very much... but Ren was right, wasn't he? I'm ugly. I'm ugly and I'm fat and I'm gross and that's why I don't have a boyfriend yet. No boy could ever love someone who looks like me."
Agony wracked Ford's heart. He took his niece's shoulders in his hands and held her at enough of a distance to look her in the eye. "Mabel, dear, I'm going to tell you something, and I want to make sure that you're listening to every word I say. Alright?"
She nodded, eyebrows pulling together.
"I never want to hear you speak about yourself that way again. You are the most beautiful little girl that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. You are brilliant, you are kind, you are unique, and you are Mabel. There is nothing uglier than a boy who has nothing better to do than make wonderful girls feel bad about themselves."
A small smile began to appear on Mabel's lips as she listened to her grunkle, but before long her face fell. She looked down and fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, the small flame of confidence that Ford lit within her snuffed out all too easily. "You're just lying to make me feel better."
The hope that had illuminated the old man's face when he saw his niece's smile faded when he heard her doubts. What had he done wrong? He was so proud of what he said, but it didn't seem to lift Mabel's spirits at all. Deep lines of worry creased his forehead as he tried to understand his miscalculation. "Why would I lie to you, dear?"
"You're my grunkle. You're not allowed to be honest with me the way that Ren was. You have to tell me that you think I'm not ugly, even though I know when you look at me all you see is a stupid, repulsive mess who doesn't deserve to be loved!"
In that moment, a steam engine plowed itself into Stanford's heart. He was knocked breathless by the impact, his eyes brimming with tears. Profound remorse clouded his expression and he removed his hands from her, curled fingers hovering just above her shoulders as he was stunned by Mabel's harsh opinion of herself.
Even Mabel seemed to be surprised by her own outburst. She quickly tried to explain herself. "Everything in this world is so beautiful and awesome and cool. And even though there's bad stuff happening, too, I know everything will turn out okay. We have Dipper and Grunkle Stan and Wendy and Soos, and we have you, too. I'm so positive about everything all the time because it's who I am. I see the good in stuff because it comes easy to me." She held out her hands in front of herself and looked at them sadly. "But sometimes, when there's nothing going on to distract me, I have to think about myself. And it's hard for me to see the good in myself. I'm dumb and annoying and ugly and disgusting and I don't know how to change. I would do anything to change."
Ford just stared at her. He couldn't believe what he was hearing; did Mabel really think of herself this way?
"I know that boys can be stupid," she continued. "But that doesn't mean they never tell the truth. And Ren was telling the truth when he called me ugly. I know he was."
There was a deafening silence. Ford's heart throbbed in his ears and he scraped desperately for something to say.
Eventually, he had an idea, a new approach to the issue that he thought might get through to her.
"Mabel, tell me something that you like about yourself."
She blinked up at him, eyes wide in confusion. "What?"
"Think of one thing that you like about yourself, no matter how small it seems. It could your eyes or your nose. It could even be a single hair on your head. Just tell me one thing about your appearance that you like."
Mabel hesitated, but her curiosity won out and she decided to play along. "I like my nose," she said softly, latching onto one of Grunkle Ford's suggestions.
The author nodded. "It's a wonderful nose," he agreed. "I would be lying to say that I haven't found myself envying your nose once or twice since we met."
When Grunkle Ford saw the smallest smile starting to etch itself across Mabel's face, he was defenseless against the infection. The corners of his eyes crinkled happily as he reached out to tap his niece on the nose.
"The next time that you start feeling bad about yourself, Mabel, I want you to think about your nose. Ignore all of the things you don't like and focus on what you do. Eventually, you'll start to realize there's more than just your nose. Your eyes are beautiful, your hair is soft, and your smile could light up the entire multiverse."
Mabel wiped her nose on the back of her oversized sweater sleeve, still sniffling despite having finished her cries. "What if I forget?" she asked feebly.
"I will always be here to remind you, dear," he assured her. "And you said yourself, you have Wendy, Soos, Dipper, and Stan, as well. The next time that somebody makes you feel bad about yourself, come to one of us and we'll remind you how much we love you."
Mabel beamed at her great uncle and tackled him in a big hug, nearly knocking him over with the force of it. "Thanks, Grunkle Ford."
Ford secured his hold on the girl before standing up, and she giggled as she was lifted into the air. "Do you feel better, sweetheart?"
Her enthusiastic nod sparked pride in Ford's heart, pride mixed with relief and contentment and love. He had done well. He hadn't let his niece down. He had made her smile again.
Before long, Mabel pulled back just enough to look up at her grunkle, biting her lip. "What about Ren?"
"Don't you worry about him, dear. I'll take care of him."
———
Please remember to leave a review! If there's any interest, I'll make it a two-shot and write a second chapter where Ford (and perhaps Stan?) "takes care" of Ren!