April 1982 – Confession Time

Placing the bag of groceries down on the counter, I pushed my hair back from my face with a sigh.

"Ya know ya didn't have to do this right?" Stan grumbled as he entered the kitchen with another two bags. "I'm not a charity case ya know."

"I know." I started pulling food from the bag. "But I wanted too. Plus I've been thinking about a new name for your little business venture here." I chattered happily as I started placing food in the fridge.

"Oh yeah?" Stan commented as he began to put food away as well.

"I don't have anything solid yet, but anything has to be better than the Murder Hut." I jibed as I walked back to the counter.

"Oi." Stan swatted cheekily at my ass and I stuck my tongue out at him.

"It's a terrible name for a business Stan." I replied with a grin. "I also figured I could take a look at the mortgage for this place and try to give you an idea of what you'll need to pay off consistently." I continued as Stan stopped and stared at me. Stan had a soft smile on his face, regarding me with warmth. I could feel my own smile surfacing as I gazed back at him, taking in his glasses and newly cut hair... He was starting to look more like Ford than ever.

"What? I want to help you as much as I can while I'm here." I said, turning back to the bags.

"While ya here..." Stan echoed in a low tone. I looked back at Stan, my smile gone at the sound of his voice. Stan was looking out the window, his own smile gone and visibly upset.

"I told you I could only stay a week Stan. I have a job, an apartment, commitments... I can't just disappear." I said slowly, hoping that Stan would at least try to understand.

"Yeah, I guess..." Stan said gruffly, still looking out the window.

"Besides, if I stay here, I might end up revealing the whole secret identity thing. You know what I'm like for blurting stuff out." I tried to joke weakly. Stan didn't even acknowledge my words.

"I could always visit you, say once a month." I tried, starting to wish I'd never even opened my mouth in the first place.

"Great." Stan replied monotonously. "Something to look forward too."

"Please Stan, I don't want to lose you again. I'm trying here." I said softly, tears pricking the back of my eyes. Stan sighed and finally looked at me. I could see the glassiness in his eyes.

"I knew ya'd only be here a short while." He said sadly. "I just hoped after a... ah, forget it." Stan cut himself off. "I'm going downstairs." He walked out of the kitchen without any more of an explanation.

I stayed where I was, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the paper bag, slowly wearing it thinner. My heart felt like a rock inside my chest. Everything had been fine this morning. What just happened?

X

A few hours later, I was sitting at the table in the kitchen absently scribbling ideas on a notepad.

Stan still hadn't come back upstairs and I really didn't want to go down and join him. I didn't want to risk ruining things any further.

Sighing, I placed my pen down and walked over to the sink to get a drink of water. I was really starting to think that I shouldn't have come to Gravity Falls at all, no matter what I had promised Gina. This whole complicated mess had sucked me in and I was going to make it so much worse if I wasn't careful. Turning the tap off, I leaned back against the sink. If I somehow figured out a way to stay, I was going to have be an accomplice in Stan's life. Helping him figure out how the hell to restart that thing downstairs and having to pretend that he was Stanford every day... On the other hand, if I left after Stan had opened up and told me everything about Ford's disappearance and what lurked under the house... it'd be like he had lost me too. It would break him. And how could I go back to Glass Shard Beach and pretend that Stan was still dead after this? And how could I not tell Gina that it was Ford who'd gone missing but hey, good news! The son you thought had died is still alive and pretending to be his missing, presumed dead brother?

I could feel a headache starting just trying to process all of that information. Suppressing a groan, I lifted the glass to my lips. This was so much more complicated than I wanted to handle right now.

I glanced out of the window as I took a sip of the water.

The trash can wobbled violently.

I froze, waiting to see if it would move again. After only a few moments, it rocked and almost tipped.

Placing my glass down slowly, I tossed up the options. It was probably just a raccoon or a stray cat. The poor creature must have gotten trapped in there. The trash can gave another wobble as I considered what to do next.

I could go and get Stan (and risk his grumpiness, followed by extensive teasing after he'd sorted it), or I could grab the nearby broom and go sort that trash eater out myself.

After a few moments thought, I grabbed the broom and headed toward the back door. I still didn't want to have to go downstairs and face Stan.

Chicken, my brain mocked me.

Gritting my teeth and tightening my grip on the broom, I walked out onto the porch.

Walking round to the trash can, I jumped a little as it wobbled violently again.

"Ok mister trash eater, prepare to be heartily threatened by a broom." I muttered, reaching for the lid. "Or at least be screamed at until you run away."

Before I could grab the lid, it shifted to the side and I was suddenly looking at a tiny bearded man holding a discarded tin triumphantly. He froze the second he spotted me.

"Shemebulock? Senior?" He said, offering me the tin can.

"Arghhh!" I yelled, swinging the broom in shocked self-defence. By sheer luck, it managed to hit the tiny man in the face, knocking him to the ground, the lid of the trash can falling with a loud clang.

He hissed at me and went to scamper away. I chased him with the broom, smacking him once more as he dove into the surrounding trees.

I stared after him in shock, still holding the broom above my head. As I began to lower the broom, I heard Stan calling from the back porch.

"Carla! I heard someone yell! What happened?"

"I'm round here Stan." I called back, still staring at the trees.

Stan walked round and froze when he saw me wielding the broom.

"Whatcha doing?" he asked, edging forward. Reality finally caught up to me.

"I-I thought there was a raccoo- or a cat- but it was a tiny- in the, in the trash can, a tiny man... with a beard!" I babbled. "He had a tin!" Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Again? I swear, those guys are a real pest."

I stared at him.

"Wait! I just told you there was a tiny bearded man in your trash and you knew?!" I asked, incredulous. Stan shrugged.

"Things get weird around here. I can't really explain it." He offered. I sagged a little, energy suddenly draining from me.

"This is crazy. I was perfectly happy living a normal life... then I get here and the world turns upside down!" I gestured wildly, narrowly missing Stan with the broom bristles.

"So you'll be glad to leave then." Stan muttered. I jolted, like someone had smacked me in the face with the broom. Stan was always good at sulking.

"Not fair Stan." I said.

"That wasn't a no." He replied sullenly.

I felt like screaming. Instead, I smacked Stan lightly with the broom.

"Ok, listen up mister. Because I've just hit what I can only describe as a gnome in the face, and quite frankly, I'm really out of my depth here... But I'm not leaving because of all this, this weird stuff. I'm not leaving because you're poor, and I'm not leaving because I'm freaked out by this place." I threw the broom to the ground. "I'm leaving because I'm a goddamn adult! I can't just disappear." I cried loudly as I grabbed the front of Stan's shirt.

"And I'm not leaving because I don't love you Stan Pines. The last few days have been a whirlwind of emotions, but the one thing I'm sure of is that if you're still alive then my place is by your side!" I ended my rant with a hard kiss on Stan's lips.

Stan hesitated in shock before kissing me back.

A loud crash separated us. The trash can had been knocked over, another gnome rooting around in it.

"Oh for crying out loud." Stan muttered before grabbing the broom and swatting at the gnome. "Go on! Get outta there!" He yelled as the gnome scampered off.

I started to giggle, shaking uncontrollably. Stan turned back to me, watching in concern as I doubled over holding my sides.

"This is the craziest day of my life." I gasped. Stan gave me a grin.

"It takes some getting use too." He admitted.

"You don't say?" I smiled, wiping the tears from my eyes. We stood looking at each other for a while.

"Look I'm sorry I-"

"Sorry bout-"

We both tried to apologise at the same time before laughing again. I reached out and took hold of Stan's hand.

"Come on. I gotta show you something" I said softly, tugging him back towards the house.

X

Stan sat in the recliner and looked at me expectantly.

"Right. Stay." I said, making quick, nervous gestures. Stan smirked but wriggled further into the chair, indicating he wouldn't move.

"I'll be right back." I assured before backing out of the front room and dashing up the stairs. Grabbing my bag from the bedroom, I hurried downstairs and stopped in front of Stan.

"I've been carrying this round with me for years..." I muttered as I searched through my bag.

"You wanted to show me an old bag ya have?" Stan quipped with a raised eyebrow. I paused and stuck my tongue out at him.

"No." My fingers finally found what I was looking for. "Aha! There it is!"

Triumphantly drawing an aged and battered envelope out, I dropped my bag and moved toward Stan.

"Here. I want you to read this... I wrote it for you years ago." I tried to stop my hands from shaking as I tentatively held out the envelope.

Stan gave me a slightly stunned look before gently taking the envelope from me.

My heart was hammering loudly in my chest as I watched Stan take out the faded paper and photo.

I couldn't watch him read this.

"I'll leave you to, to..." I muttered, moving toward the door, "Find me after you've read it."

Almost tripping over the small stairs in my haste to get away, I dove out the back door and threw myself down to sit on the porch stairs.

"Well. That's done it." I whispered to myself. "He's gonna read it and we'll finally have to talk about what happened, no excuses."
I dropped my head to my knees with a groan.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as I waited.

The door behind me creaked as Stan came outside. He sat down heavily next to me, still holding the photo and letter.

"So..." Stan sighed.

"Yeah." I stared down at the grass, reluctant to be the one to start the conversation. Stan stretched his legs out in the silence.

"Ya've really been carrying this round since '72?" He eventually asked. I nodded, still focused on the ground.

"Why?" Stan asked.

"So I could give it to you if I ever saw you again. I think I wrote that in there somewhere." I said, sitting back up and glancing at Stan.

"No. I get that, I read that... but after I 'died'... why didn't ya just get rid of it?" Stan tapped the edge of the paper absently while he waited for me to answer.

"I just couldn't bring myself to let it go. I tried... but I just couldn't." I admitted with a sigh. "Good thing I didn't really."

Stan chuckled and we fell silent again.

Finally deciding to ask what had been torturing me for years, I took a deep breath and twisted to look at Stan.

"So? Can you forgive me?" I asked, voice trembling. "For everything that happened?"

The look Stan gave me was unreadable and I felt my heart lurch painfully. What if he didn't forgive me?

Suddenly, I couldn't stop myself from babbling.

"Look, I know I can't go back and change things, or even take back what I said; but if it's any consolation, I went through hell when the hypnotism wore off. I mean, one day I just wake up with all these memories of what I said and did." My voice cracked and I could feel tears trying to escape my eyes. "Oh god, the things I said! What I did... kicking you out like that... I wouldn't blame you if you never forgave me... but I'm so sorry Stan! So sorry!" My tears were falling freely now and I made no attempt to stifle them.

I briefly caught sight of the letter and photo fluttering to the ground before I was suddenly surrounded by Stan.

Stan was making soft comforting sounds as his hands cautiously stroked my back. I only cried harder at the sweet touches.

"Please, please forgive me." I sobbed, burying my head into his chest. "Everything I said... that I did... I swear I never meant it. I would never!"

"Carla, god, of course I forgive ya." Stan's voice was gruff and heavy with emotion as he pressed his cheek against my hair. "Come here ya mess."

Stan pulled me closer, lifting me onto his lap. Twisting my head into his shoulder, I tried to get control of my tears.

"Hey, hey. Carla, baby. Look at me." Stan coaxed, gently brushing his fingers through my hair. I tentatively raised my eyes to his and was taken aback by the warmth in them still.

"It's alright ya know? You don't have anything to be sorry about. It was that jerk Thistle's fault." Stan reassured.

"B-but, what I said... It was so awful." I sniffed pathetically.

Stan sighed lightly.

"I won't lie to ya. Some of it hurt, a lot... and I was pretty heartbroken for a while. But I always knew you wouldn't say those sorts of things if ya weren't being made to by Thistle. I never blamed you for any it. Shoulda dumped that damn idiot in the ravine next to his van though." Stan grumbled.

Despite everything, I giggled. Stan smiled and held me tightly.

"Ya know, I never stopped thinking about ya." Stan admitted shyly. "Even when I made the horrible decision to get married. And let me tell you, Marilyn had nothing on you McCorkle. You were the first girl I ever loved... ya set the bar pretty high."

My heart fluttered hopefully and I gulped as I steeled myself to ask my next question.

"Do, do you think you could love me again?" I whispered, hardly daring to breathe.

Stan gave an amused huff.

"Don't think I ever truly stopped loving you Tiny." He said quietly with a smile. A smile that disappeared when I flung my arms around him suddenly, almost knocking us back onto the porch.

As Stan steadied us with a chuckle, I nuzzled closer to him as I tried to stop more tears falling.

"You mean it?" I asked, wanting to make sure I hadn't imagined it.

"I mean it." Stan replied, his arms tightening around me.

We stayed entwined like that for a few minutes. I was grinning against Stan, feeling the rise and fall of his breath.

He still loved me! He actually forgave me! I felt like whatever had been hanging over us had just vanished... things could only get better now.

"Do ya really still have to leave?" Stan asked, popping my thoughts sharply. I sighed and absently tugged his shirt front as I leaned back.

"Unfortunately..." I pulled a face. "But I've been thinking, what if I came back. Permanently?"

Stan's brow creased in confusion.

"What?"

I snorted with a smile.

"What if I moved out here? For good?" I repeated. Stan's eyes widened and a grin spread over his face.

"Ya'd move out here... to the middle of nowhere... and stay with me this time?" He asked slowly, grin still fixed in place.

"If you'll have me." I smiled.

"Are you kidding?! Yes!" Stan was ecstatic.

"I'll still have to leave this weekend though." I said reminded him. "I have to go back and quit my job, give up my apartment... explain this to your mother, she'll want to know why I'm suddenly moving here..." I trailed off, suddenly realising how much I'd have to do.

"Oh, yeah, Ma." Stan said. "What are you gonna tell her?"

"Reckon we should tell her the truth?" I asked.

"How do ya even start to explain this? We can't tell her." Stan gave me a bemused look.

"Well, I'm going to have to tell her something. So start thinking mister." I poked Stan good-naturedly.

Stan frowned slightly, thinking, before opening his mouth with an idea ready to tumble out. I raised my finger quickly.

"If your idea involves faking my death this time, I swear I will let those gnomes into the house." I threatened with a faint smile.

Stan scowled.

"Not all my ideas involve faking deaths ya know?" He said reproachfully.

"Oh yeah?" I challenged, "What was your idea then?"

Stan opened and closed his mouth a few times before I burst out laughing. Stan soon joined in, admitting defeat.

"Ok, ok. So I only have one type of idea." He chuckled. I shook my head, still smiling.

"We don't have to figure it all out right now. I think it can wait till tomorrow."

Stan nodded, spotting the letter and photo still lying on the ground. He reached down and picked them up.

"Thanks for this," Stan smiled, placing them on my lap, "it means a lot."

I leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Stan's cheek.

"I'm just glad you finally got to read it." I murmured, settling back against him.

Stan seemed lost in thought, clearly mulling something over. I waited, content to wait forever for the man sitting with me.

"Ya really sure you wanna ditch everything just to be out here with me? I don't hava lot to offer ya know?" Stan said quietly.

Hearing the uncertainty in his voice, I reached up and gently ran my hands through his hair comfortingly.

"You're enough for me Stan. So yes. I really want to do this." I paused, tilting my head back to catch his eye. "I know it's pretty sudden, but I can't just walk away after knowing what's going on in this house. I want to help you. I want to be with you."

Stan smiled happily and rested his head against mine as I continued to stroke his hair.

I realised how crazy this plan was, and I'd spent the last few hours trying to reason it out on paper.

But after finally giving Stan that letter and knowing now that he still loved me... My mind was made up.

Stan needed me and this time I wasn't leaving him.