I have only twenty-five percent of an idea where I'm going with this, and that's from sticking to the movie's plot - but here's the Force Awakens AU nobody wanted, slightly skewed Gravity Falls style. It should be pretty obvious who's who, but expect a lot to diverge from canon.
Beginnings
It begins with a girl trapped behind a mask, wide-eyed and heavy breathing. Her fingers shake, barely holding her gun, though her mind is screaming at her to grasp it firmly, to point it up, to place her fingers on the trigger and pull-
This is her legacy, her inheritance. This is what she was born to do, what her family does. It is an honor, a respectable cause – a demonstration. This is the First Order, the growing force her family has long been part of.
This is her. The immaculate white armor that suffocates her where she stands, that tiles the bodies of her fellow soldiers, her family. Sand beneath her feet, gun in her hands, the villagers cowering before them. They've already killed the old man, taken the pilot to the ship – she'll be dead soon enough. What's a few more lives to the glorious cause of the First Order? To the honored legacy of her family?
She has her orders.
But she can't-
She won't-
Her fingers are still loose. No beams of bright light escape her gun.
And as the dark helmet stares her down from across the battlefield, the blood from her fellow soldier trickling slowly down her helmet, she decides.
Or maybe it begins earlier-
The barren, sandy expanses of Jakku are a new sight to her eyes, despite having flown far and wide across the galaxy. Any other time she'd have loved to explore the new planet, to take in the sights (though something tells her she's already seen it all) – but those are sights for another time. There is time to be the excited, adventurous girl later.
Now, she is Mabel Pines, star pilot of the Resistance and the closest to finding Stanford Pines in years.
And maybe-
Her uncle's friend hurries her inside the tent, eyes wary on the horizon. He's aged since she last saw him, his hair a wispy white that matches his thick beard. But his eyes are bright and alert, and she knows they've found their lead.
"You have it?" she whispers, her hands knitting and unknitting.
He smiles at her, and presses a small, leather bag into her hands. "Tell Stanley to have that left hook ready," he says.
Mabel's heart flips in her chest. "The map," she says, hesitantly. "Is it just – I know it's to him, but does it – do you think – that maybe he's-"
He gazes at her in sympathy, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Mabel," he says, softly. "But when your uncle's brother left, he left alone."
Something long-shattered in her heart breaks again. Her fingers tighten around the bag. "I'll find him," she says, fiercely. "I'll bring him back. He'll make things right."
For the first time since she's known him, hope spreads across the old man's face. "I hope you do," he says. "May the force-"
She stiffens, the familiar nudge in the back of her mind flooding her chest with ice. She stares at him in panic.
She can already hear the sound of TIE fighters above them.
"Go," he whispers.
Mabel's always hated running away from fights, but this time she has no choice. "C'mon, Waddles," she hisses, sprinting for her fighter. Technically, her droid's name is W-DL5 – but Waddles has always been more than a droid to her, despite how Stan teases her for it. The thought of her uncle brings an ache to her heart, and she's almost glad as she swings herself into the cockpit.
And then they notice her.
Mabel's head snaps forward as the blast hits her ship, a sensation she's more familiar with than not. This one feels like a doozy, she thinks, with a sinking heart, shoving her way out of the cockpit. A laserburst whips inches past her head as she stumbles on the sand, fingers crossed and hoping beyond hope as she assesses the damage.
She swears, staring at the smoldering wound in her fighter with despair. Star pilot or not, there's no way she's making it off the planet in that. She glances back at the chaos in the village, anger and grief mixing as she watches the First Order's destruction. She grabs her gun from the damaged fighter and drops to a knee by Waddles.
"Here," she says, slipping the smooth, metal chip from the bag and transferring it to the droid. "Get as far away from here as you can with this, alright?"
The droid whines, nudging against her. Mabel pats the domed head, managing an almost-optimistic smile.
"I'll be back for you," she says. "I promise."
The rusting, heavy air of the abandoned star destroyer is oppressive, choking him as it would if he hadn't wrapped his face first. The old metal bruises his fingers as he yanks another part free, the metallic snap a welcome sound in the empty silence.
He thinks he used to like silence, before he came to this hellhole of a planet.
Whenever that was.
Giving up on the rest of the circuitry, he pockets the part and pushes back, fingers burning as he slides the long way down the cord. His feet hit packed sand that gives way to looser, grainier sand as he trudges his way out, squinting against the sudden brightness. He pulls his goggles off wearily, staring out at the endless hills of sand. He takes another moment, his fingers brushing against the part he brought down, before slinging it into the speeder with the rest of his scavengings. Hopefully, this will be enough.
If not, it's not as if he hasn't gone hungry before.
Sometimes, he wants to resent his family for leaving him on Jakku, desolate, joyless place that it is.
Most of the time, he just wants them to come back.
Jakku's sun is low in the sky, casting the sand in purple-orange, by the time Dipper flings his staff against his makeshift home's wall in frustration, the few measly food packets nearly crushed in his hand. His irritation at the dealer is matched only by the gnawing pit of anxiety growing in his gut. If that's all he's going to get paid for a day's worth of scavenging, he's going to have to start looking elsewhere – he's almost picked the ruins of the Star Destroyer clean by now, and pulled apart and put back together too many other parts to be of use. That, or he's going to have to stay out later.
Dipper glances out at the darkening desert, miles and miles of emptiness stretching on forever. He tucks himself further into the abandoned AT-AT walker.
He really, really hates sand.
Dipper isn't his real name, but it's as good as one. He supposes three-year-old's can't be held accountable for remembering much, but it's still disheartening not to remember that, at least. And it's not like there's anyone he can ask, either. No one knows who he is. No one knows where he came from. He's just the scavenger with the weird birthmark who named himself.
He won't be that forever, he thinks, watching a lone ship escape the atmosphere, a pang of longing in his chest. They'll come back for him – whoever they are – he knows they will. They have to. They promised. (He thinks).
He doesn't remember his family, but he dreams, sometimes. He dreams of oceans, dark, crashing waves and the tangy smell of salt – of trees, thick and towering and green, the sound of leaves crunching – a warm weight on his shoulder, a hand in his – a girl. He'll dream of her, sometimes, hear echoes of laughter, catch a glimpse of eyes brighter than Jakku's sun-
He'll wake with tears in his eyes. The girl's laughter is gone, along with the sound of waves and the trees, but her eyes are seared into his memory. If they're memories. If they're not just – not just another dumb hope-
He has a family. He has to – he has to be somebody.
Dipper's not a crier, because crying on Jakku is a waste of perfectly good water. But his eyes still smart as he watches the sun dip below the horizon, feels the cold begin to seep through the wraps on his arms.
And then he hears the droid.
The name Northwest is known well throughout the First Order as a name of high rank and respect. Today, it's going to be known as the name of a traitor.
The thought doesn't sicken Pacifica as much as it should.
She made her decision on the battleground on Jakku, and this pilot has given her the chance to make it a reality. She's not going to stand by and let someone order her to kill more people – she's not going to stand by while an innocent (well, not really innocent, but more so than anyone here) girl is tortured. Besides, she needs a pilot and the prisoner fits the bill.
She hopes.
It takes her a while – there is far too much time between the dark one – the sith's – entry and departure, but Pacifica is patient. Her very genetics determine her to be. Whatever her parents were thinking, handing her over to the First Order, she doesn't dwell on.
When she finally leads the prisoner out of the cell, it's with a hammering heart and sweaty palms. The Resistance pilot looks almost as weak-kneed as she feels, her face pale and haunted. Pacifica waits until the corridor is empty before tugging the brown-haired girl into a corner, swallowing against her raging nerves.
"Can you fly us out?" she hisses, breathlessly. The girl stares at her blankly.
"Huh?"
Pacifica yanks her helmet off in frustration. Wisps of blonde hair stick to the sweat on her face where they've escaped her braided bun. "I'm rescuing you, okay? I've got a plan, I just need you to-"
"Why are you helping me?" the girl asks, her eyes narrowing. Pacifica wants to scream. They don't have time for this.
"Because it's the right thing to do," she says, in a whispered burst. The resistance pilot stares at her a second longer. Her mouth splits into a grin.
"You need a pilot."
"I need a pilot."
The grin grows wider. "Let's do this."
"I'm Mabel, by the way!"
Pacifica almost misses the girl's shout – she's too preoccupied with the entire army of people trying to kill her, this rescue is going fantastically – but zooming through space at an almost inconceivable speed, watching as the girl fly as they dodge missile after missile by inches, the taste of freedom is a giddy recklessness coursing through her system, she replies automatically.
"I'm Pacifica!"
"That's a pretty name!" the girl – Mabel – yells back, turning to flash her a grin before she hurls their TIE fighter through the narrow gap between steel plating. "I can't wait to bring you back to the Resistance with me – my Grunkle's gonna love you!"
Pacifica has no idea who this "Grunkle" is, but the location sounds wonderfully far away.
"Great!" she yelps, fingers clenching on the trigger button as another TIE fighter swoops into view. "If we jump now we can make it to the next system and steal a ship-"
Mabel interrupts her. "No, we gotta go back to Jakku first!"
"What?!" Pacifica all but shrieks. "You want to go back?! They'll catch us!"
"I left my droid there-"
"Get another one!"
"-he has a map to Stanford Pines!"
Pacifica swears, half in frustration, half in shock. Stanford Pines? What in kriffing hell has she gotten herself into-
"And there's no way I'm leaving Waddles behind," Mabel mutters.
Pacifica would've asked who Waddles was, had one of the missiles not finally found its target.
Her last though before the world goes black is that stars, she really hates this planet.