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"Disco girl…..comin throuuugh…" Dipper hummed along to his BABBA CD in the bathroom as he combed his hair back, pausing to stare at his forehead in the mirror, a small frown ghosting across his face. He looked much older and dignified with it out of his face, but the constellation on his forehead still made him feel insecure. He squinted a little at his double in the mirror, his mind racing to the beat of the pop song. Do I look too much like a kid...? I'm supposed to be a man now, I'm an adult. I'm mature. Tyrone would have loved to be doing this… What would Tyrone do? Hide it? Flaunt it? ...That girl is yooouu, oo-ooo- wait, Dipper, focus. Don't forget anything from your 2 months of hebrew school last spring. Just focus and you'll do everything just fine. Its not like your whole family is watching you- Dipper's eyes widened and he clutched his chest in panic, "Mabel, I need your help!"
Mabel popped her head in the bathroom, hand over her eyes, her hair up in a messy bun centered at the top of her head, and she was covered up in a fluffy pink bathrobe. She'd been in the middle of applying makeup, and looked sort of insane without her full face finished. "Dipper, I replaced the toilet paper last time…! Oh, you aren't stranded?" Mabel slid in and closed the door. "What's the big deal? Do you want me to help you slick your hair back or something?"
"Or something…. Mabel, would you be able to cover up my birthmark? With your makeup?" Dipper asked softly, a small part of him hoping Mabel didn't hear and he could change his mind. His family loved his unusual birthmark, but he didn't always feel the same. Being around Ford over the summer had helped a little, but he was just one person: Dipper was about to go up there in front of everyone, his whole community, with his forehead lit up like a billboard.
"Are… are you sure, Dipper? I mean, this is your big day. And everyone loves your birthmark, the only people who made fun of it are those brats at school. And none of those idiots will be there. You're gonna look great, Dip, you don't need my help." Mabel was her brother's biggest fan, and she would stand up for him if anyone gave him trouble. She was pretty well liked at school, and she always made sure Dipper was included if he wanted to be. But she also knew that he was insecure about his birthmark, and she didn't try to force him to show it off if he didn't want to.
"Please… Mabel you have to help me I don't know how to cover it up myself." All Dipper could think of was everyone staring at him, only seeing his birthmark, nothing else. "I can't go out there like this! Everyone's gonna think I'm a freak!"
Mabel groaned and huffed a sigh. "Alright, if you want me too so bad. Come on, the lighting at my desk is better, let's give you a makeover… no, a MANover!" Mabel playfully punched her brother in the arm, a little harder than she'd meant to, and dragged him out of the bathroom. "I'm going to make you look so awesome Dipper. How do you feel about mascara…?" She never got to make her brother over, and she was going to get ALL she could get out of it.
"Please no eye stuff." Dipper said, shuddering. "How do you stand poking yourself with that, uh, brushy thing?"
"Dipper, if you're poking your eyeball, you're doing it wrong. Trust me, I'm the makeover master." Mabel snorted at her brother's fear of something so natural to her. She sat Dipper down in the chair at her desk and put his hair back with one of her headbands. "Alright Mabel, let's make a work of art." She picked up a bunch of intimidating makeup products and used her hand as a pallette. Mabel's parents were a little apprehensive about her wearing makeup so young, but she enjoyed makeup simply for the fun of it, and rarely wore it to school to impress others. She loved the way she looked on her own, and wasn't being pressured to change anything. She just enjoyed using another medium on a human canvas. She applied some sort of primer over Dipper's forehead with her finger and hummed softly to herself, working with focused precision.
Dipper winced at the foreign feeling on his face. "Is this stuff supposed to feel slimy? Ah-hey!" Mabel shooshed her brother by tickling his nose with a fluffy brush. She used a tiny flat looking brush to put...green stuff on his face? "Mabel, that isn't my skin color. This isn't anyone's skin color."
"SHH! Don't question the master. The green stuff cancels out redness, you dink. It's all going to pull together." Mabel blended out the redness concealer with a sponge; the effects had already started to show. She started applying liquid foundation over Dipper's mark, practically beating him with the sponge to apply it. "Hey, hold still! I'll put eyeshadow on you!"
"Mabel! No eye stuff!" Dipper screamed, trying to push her away. Mabel groaned and crossed her arms, stepping back and putting the eyeshadow away. She waited until Dipper stopped squirming to continue, being a little more gentle this time.
Mabel applied another layer of liquid foundation and finally set it with powder and a big fluffy brush. "Okay, Brobro, prepare to be amazed!" Mabel help up a little compact mirror so Dipper could get a good look. He now had a blank canvas on his forehead, not a red line nor a stray dot to be seen. "Do you like it? I can do your eyebrows too! Maybe a little contour….how do you feel about lipgloss?"
"Mabel, this is perfect!" Dipper said, grabbing the little mirror and tilting it so he could see better. "Can you teach me how you did it? I should do this all the time!" A part of him was sad that he had to hide a part of himself, but what else could he do? He certainly couldn't parade his birthmark in front of all those people.
Mabel frowned. She understood wanting to cover up for their big day, but she felt like she just gave Dipper another thing to worry about. "Maybe later, brobro. I have to finish my face too, you know… I know I'm a totally amazing makeup artist and all...but the natural look suits you best."
Dipper paused, looking down at his feet. "...No it doesn't."
In the bright pink guest room down the hall, Stanley and Ford weren't faring much better.
"Stanley, I can't do this." Ford was pacing, clutching his trenchcoat. "I can't go into a synagogue wearing this thing, but I can't take it off." The coat had been with him too long. It'd been with him since he graduated college… a gift. From Fiddleford. He'd never taken it off, not in over thirty years, not even when it turned black with filth.
"Ford, relax. Mabel and I already talked about that, and I think we've got an idea." Stan said. He hadn't started getting ready yet, he was still in his boxer shorts and a dirty white undershirt. Stan dug through his old duffel, trying to find a small plastic bag. He held it up to Ford, showing off the contents.
"...Safety pins?" Ford asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Mabel gave me these and some instructions on how to pin it. It'll look just like a suit jacket, and when it's over you can just take 'em out." Stan said, unfolding a piece of notebook paper with a few diagrams on it in colored pencil.
"Stanley, are you sure you ca-"
"Stanford. I put together most of a fucking interdimensional portal with a third of the instructions. I can handle your goddamn trenchcoat." Stan said, glaring at Ford. "Now come here and let me look at it." Stanford stepped forward, stretching out his arms as Stan set to work, pausing every now and then to look at Mabel's instructions. When he was done, Ford was amazed to find that Stanley had been right. It really did look just like a suit.
"Thank you." Was all he could say.
"Yeah, sure. Put on a nice shirt and a tie too, at least. We have to look presentable." Stanley had set his suit set out already, along with a nice blue bowtie and pocket square to match.
"Oh god, I forgot to pack a- umph." Ford was cut off as a pale blue button up shirt was tossed his way, followed by a very nice brown silk tie.
"I knew you'd forget, and need to borrow something, so here. I didn't bring extra shoes, your boots are going to have to work." Stan said, struggling to fit into his waist cincher. He grunted when all of his belly fat was sucked in and his shapewear finally fit. Stan pulled on his clothes with care, always doing whatever he could to look nice when he had the opportunity and the privilege to do so. Years and years of filthy clothes and greasy hair, of not having access to a proper shower or even a toothbrush, of feeling the cold stares of passersby, made him relish the feeling of getting dolled up.
"...You look nice." Ford said, before slipping into the closet to change his clothes. He hated the way his sweater caught on puckered scars, raised just above the surrounding skin, but more than that he hated what he'd been foolish enough to tattoo on himself so many years ago.
Bill Cipher's image had been tattooed almost everywhere, on his arms, shoulders, on his back. A constant reminder that he was watching, that Ford had been blind enough to follow him.
He'd hated it so much he'd taken a knife to his skin and tried to carve out the tattoos, one by one.
It didn't matter that most of those scars were covered by ones that he'd received journeying across the multiverse, from monsters and criminals, from actual injuries. No, it was the ones he'd inflicted on himself that he hated the most. A constant reminder of his past failings, and a constant reminder of the state of his soul.
Stanley shook his head when Stanford hid to change his clothes. They both had gotten older, and it was obvious that Ford was much more fit than Stan. What did he have to be shy about? Bodies change. Even if it was something as mundane as scars, Ford was a smart guy; he could piece together that Stan would have more than a few after a decade of homelessness. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a fistful of bobby pins, and carefully pinned his yarmulke to his hair. This was an important day for Dipper and Mabel, and even though the thought of wearing religious attire again made every bone in Stan's body want to scream, he'd do it for them.
Stan took a quick look in the mirror, just to make sure everything was in the right place, and froze. Christ, Ford had been right all those weeks ago. He really did look like a poorer, fatter version of dad. Well… those hadn't been his exact words, but they still stung. He turned away, pushing the thought from his mind.
Once Ford emerged from the closet all dressed up, Stanley looked him over with a little grin. "Look at you, see what a change of clothes can do? You don't look like some second rate action movie extra anymore. But don't take this as an excuse to raid my closet without askin'." Stan felt a little proud to see change in his brother's appearance, like he actually took care of himself for once. Thanks to his handiwork, the tattered edges of Ford's trenchcoat were hidden, and his shirt and tie made him look cleaner, a bit more like the weird but wholesome know-it-all Ford had been over thirty years ago, and a bit less like the threatening yet nervous space nerd he was now.
Ford gave Stan a little smile, before grabbing his own yarmulke and pinning it in place.
"You really think I look nice?" Ford asked, clasping his hands behind his back.
"We're identical, you can't look bad." Stanley joked, elbowing him. He saw Ford's unamusement and sighed, "Yeesh, you're sensitive. Yes, you look nice. If you put some effort into how you look, you'll be surprised with the results."
"I just hope people will be paying more attention to Dipper than they will to me." Ford could hear it now, "did you see that six fingered freak at Dipper and Mabel's bar/bat mitzvah? Who was he?" He couldn't detract the attention away from them. Not on their big day.
"As long as you don't pull any of your crazy geek weapons out, I don't think anyone will notice another old man, six fingers or not." Stanley said with a wave of his hand. "Are you ready to go now? I think Sherman and Alexandria are waiting on us." Ford gave a curt nod, pausing to adjust the knife he had concealed under his pants leg, and walked out the door. Having that fall out during the ceremony would be a disaster.
Downstairs, Alexandria and Sherman were waiting with a camera, wanting to capture everything, from the moment the kids come down the staircase. Alexandria was wearing a knee length light blue dress, with wide shoulder straps and an elegant and modest neckline. A plum sash that matched her heels was tied around her waist. Sherman wore a tallit over his nicest suit, the jacket a pale tan color, with a light blue shirt and a plum tie that Mabel picked out especially for the occasion. He readied the camera when he heard footsteps, but it was the Grunkles who came down first. He snapped a surprise photo with the flash on. "Oops! Sorry, wrong twins." He laughed to himself. "Hey, at least we've got a photo of you two now. Wanna see?"
"When you get the photos developed? Of course" Ford said, not realizing that every camera nowadays was digital, not just the ones in computers. "You have our address right?"
Sherman blinked for a second before it hit him. "Oh, right! You probably missed digital cameras. I can just show you now." He turned the camera around so the screen faced Ford. "It's all digital, see? The photos are saved to an SD card, kind of like a tiny floppy disc, and you can transfer them to any device with an SD slot. They hold anywhere from 8 gigabytes of data to 200."
"200 gigabytes?! For photographs? The data from the moon landing was recorded on… what 150 megabytes? I think?" Sherman smirked at Ford, turned off the camera, and ejected the SD card.
"They're also about this big." He said, winking. He loved working to help build the best computers on the market, but sometimes he missed being able to impress people with the little things about technology.
Ford took the card delicately to inspect it, adjusting his glasses as if it would give him a better look. "This is astounding, Sherman! I've honestly never seen anything like it, much less from a dimension like ours." There was something strange and foreign about how social this dimension was in comparison to so many others, but after so long, it was beginning to feel comforting to Ford again.
Alexandria took the SD card back from Ford and popped it back in the slot. "Do you want to try and take a picture? They make it so easy, anyone can call themselves a photographer." She handed over the amazingly small camera. Between the camera's size and Ford's extra fingers, holding it was more than a little difficult at first. "You just press and hold the shutter button and the flash is automatic. It records video as well, but the quality isn't as good on this camera."
"Of course, thank you. Uh, Stanley, stand next to Sherman?" When Stan complied, rolling his eyes a bit at how easily impressed Ford was, Ford raised the camera and pressed the shutter button. for him
The picture actually came out okay. Stan had decided to make a silly face at the last minute, sticking out his tongue and putting rabbit ears over Sherman's head, but the photo itself looked nice. Not perfect, but better than anything else Ford had ever taken.
Tiny footsteps were heard, and Ford nearly dropped the camera trying to hand it back to Sherman before the kids got downstairs. Stan and Ford scrambled to get out of the way, and Alexandria was beaming already, waiting to see her two beautiful children.
Mabel came down first, looking like a princess. Her hair was gathered in a side ponytail, an explosion of curls, and decorated with sparkly barrettes. Her dress was something she had picked up at a thrift store and given new life, a blue and violet sequined bodice with a flared out skirt, about as fluffy as she could possibly make it. She had a pretty ribbon tied in a bow around her waist to match her mother's. She did some subtle makeup, a little lip color and some blush, looking grown up but not too much so. She was beaming and posing for the camera, knowing very well that she looks good.
Dipper followed his sister, wearing a very expensive looking suit, a rich dark blue color, tailored perfectly for him, and a tallit. His tie was chosen by Mabel to match everyone else's, and though he protested, it turned out looking very dapper. His parents beamed, aiming the camera, ready to take a picture. Dipper's slicked back hair caught the light as he walked down the stairs, and Sherman was about to press the shutter button when he stopped short.
Dipper's birthmark was gone. Everyone's face went blank, Sherman nearly dropped the camera. Dipper suddenly froze, sure that he'd messed something up already.
"Dipper… what's that on your face? Where's your beautiful birthmark?" Alexandria asked, moving forward and placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Mom, I can't go up there with that thing on my face! Everyone will make fun of me!"
"Son," Sherman said, worry on his face. "You're a man now. You shouldn't have to hide who you are. No one will make fun of you, I promise."
Mabel looked ashamed, she had agreed to help Dipper hide his birthmark. She just wanted to make Dipper feel confident, but now she got the sneaking suspicion that she'd failed. "Dipper, you don't really need all of that makeup to look all grown up and mature or whatever. We all really like how you look." Mabel took Dipper's hand in her own and squeezed it.
Ford stood perfectly still. He knew what this was like. Sometimes there wasn't anything he wouldn't give to feel normal in his own skin, but he'd come to accept that he'd always have twelve fingers, and that they were an important part of who he was. But Dipper was so young, he didn't deserve to feel the same way Ford had when he was Dipper's age. Over the summer, Ford had tried his best to help Dipper be more confident about his birthmark, but apparently he'd failed miserably. He brought his hands out from behind his back, intending to say some words of encouragement, when something clicked in his head. He glanced from Dipper to his hand and back again, remembering how his own father taught him to always hide his hands, before he slowly knelt down to Dipper's level, gently pulling him closer. Keeping one hand on Dipper's shoulder, he took a small handkerchief from his pocket, and gently wiped the makeup from his forehead.
Dipper squirmed a little when Ford began to rub away the gunk on his face and turned red, embarrassed he had thought to do that in the first place. His uncle, the author, had disapproved, what had he been thinking? But Ford simply pulled him into a hug, being careful not to muss up his nephew's hair.
"You're strong, Dipper. Stronger than I ever was. Be better than me, don't hide what makes you unique." He gently whispered, ashamed that he'd allowed his own insecurity to affect Dipper.
Dipper hid his face in his Great Uncle's shoulder and hugged back tight. He felt worse than he did before Mabel put the makeup on him. "I'm sorry, Great Uncle Ford…"
"No, I'm sorry. You're a great kid, Dipper. And I should have done more to let you see that." Dipper paused, taking in Ford's statement, before smiling and hugging tighter.
Sherman resisted the temptation to snap a picture of this touching moment. He and Alexandria had never really succeeded to make Dipper feel confident about his mark, despite their best efforts. It was amazing to see Dipper had a role model who was so similar to him, someone who he could look up to, someone who understood him and what he was going through. When Ford and Dipper broke their hug, Dipper looked happier without his hat than he had in a long time.
"That's much better, Dipper. You look so handsome! Stand in front of the staircase with Mabel and your great uncles, let us get a good picture of you!" Alexandria had to wipe a tear away, seeing her little babies all grown up, maturing, it almost hurt. "This is going to make for a good scrapbook, Mabel." Alexandria said as they all gathered before Sherman to pose for a picture.
Mabel and Dipper stoop in front of Stan and Ford who place a hand on each of the littler twins' shoulders. Mabel and Dipper smiled wide for the picture, and the grunkles smiled with sincerity, genuinely happy to be with the kids for such a milestone.
"Okay, one more. Say 'something stupid'!" Stanley grabbed Dipper, lifting him up onto his shoulders. Mabel and Ford decided to pretend to start a boxing match.
"Something stupid!" They said as the camera flashed.
Alexandria giggled and leaned on Sherman to peek at the picture. "That's a keeper. Stanford, would you get one with us and the kids?" She offered, she figured Ford would have fun playing with the camera again.
"Of course," Stanford said, taking the camera and waiting for Sherman and Alexandria to place themselves in the frame.
Dipper and Mabel's parents stood next to them, placing their arms around each other and squishing close. "Cheeeese!" They all said with a big smile. Stanford snapped a couple of pictures while the Pines family posed, getting plenty of good ones.
"Yikes, if we don't hurry, we'll be late!" Sherman said, glancing at his watch.
"To the garage!" Mabel yelled, dragging Dipper by the arm.
"Hey, you two gremlins don't mess up your clothes!" Stan called after them.
Stanford and Alexandria followed the kids to their SUV, the grunkles following behind. "You two leave room for your uncles in the back, alright?" Dipper and Mabel crawled to the very back row of seats to make room for Stanford and Stanley. Before Stanford could climb into the van, Alexandria caught him by the arm.
"...Thank you." She said softly, a warm smile on her face. "For what you did back there." Ford was absolutely speechless, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Before he could think of anything to say, Alexandria stepped around him and climbed into the van. Ford followed suit, and they were off.
The closer to the synagogue they got, the more Stanley noticed that something was very, very, wrong. While the rest of the family was chitchatting away, Stanford had taken to staring out the window, one hand on the door handle, the other twitching like mad, tugging at the pants leg that concealed his knife. Beads of sweat had begun to crop up on his forehead, his cracked glasses reflecting the twilight of the town, and his face was whiter than a ghost. By the time they'd arrived at the temple, Ford looked like he was about to either run away into the wilderness or kill somebody, whichever basic instinct won out first.
The Congregation Sherith Israel was beautiful: smooth tan walls, gothic-revival style architecture four stories tall, easy, stained glass windows, and a beautiful dome on top for all to see. It was by far the biggest building Ford had gone into since he'd gotten back, as well as the most populated. As the Pines family made their way to the front entrance, through a swarm of people, Ford fell to the back, a good ten feet behind the rest of the family, keeping his distance from the crowd and glaring daggers at anyone who came too close. Stanley slowly made his way back to Ford, gently nudging his arm.
"You alright?" He whispered. "What do you need me to do?"
"Please just stay behind me," Ford whispered, almost too quickly for Stan to catch. He nodded and began following Ford.
The interior of the temple was exquisite. With its warm vibrant colors, and hand painted frescoes on the walls and ceiling, benedictions gold leafed in Hebrew, the creeping feeling that he and Ford didn't belong there welled up in Stan's throat. He pushed it back down, focusing on Dipper in front of them. He was here for Dipper and Mabel's sake, after all.
As they made their way up the stairs towards the sanctuary, Ford's heart nearly stopped beating. Every instinct he had was telling him to run, to get as far away from these people as possible before they decided to sacrifice him to whatever horrifying deity they were worshiping. The only thought that ran through his head was him trying to remind himself that this was a synagogue, these people were Jewish. No one was going to kill him, no one was going to attack, he'd been in synagogues before and come out just fine, the only god this congregation worshipped had no taste for human sacrifice, didn't desire to instil madness and fear in the hearts of mortal men, and would have no interest in devouring his soul, quite the opposite, in fact. The only thing that kept him moving forward was Stan's presence behind him.
Dipper looked back behind his shoulder to make sure the Grunkles didn't get lost in the crowd. When Ford's panicking eyes meet Dipper's, he gave his uncle a little wave and a sincere smile. Dipper could tell that Ford was a little nervous, and chalked it up to being around so many people at once. He fell back to Ford, intending to walk him the rest of the way.
"It's alright, Great Uncle Ford." Dipper's voice sounded miles away, and the sensation only made Ford panic even more. Dipper took his hand, and it was like a thousand needles had been jammed underneath his skin, but Ford didn't dare pull away. "I know a spot near the back where no one ever sits. It's near one of the exits, too. I can show you, if you want."
At this point, Ford was too panicked to speak, but he nodded to Dipper, thankful that he knew an escape route. With Dipper as their guide, Ford and Stan were able to push through the crowd with ease. Eventually, Dipper brought them to a halt in a far corner of the sanctuary, where no one was sitting. The majority of the crowd sat closer to the stage at the front.
"No one sits back here, there's a draft and it gets too chilly. That door leads to a bathroom and a fire escape. You'll be fine, Great Uncle Ford. You're the author, you're awesome!" Dipper said, giving Ford a tiny thumbs up. "I've gotta go, but I'll meet you after it's over. The party's going to be in the Newman Hall." He said, before darting off to go find his parents. Ford quickly took a seat in the pew, squeezing himself as close to the exit as possible, and Stan sat next to him. The rest of the family were aiming to sit on the front row, and gave a wave to Stan and Ford on the way to their spot. Stan was calm enough to give them a nod, but neither of them felt up for acknowledging anyone in the temple any more than they had to.
The temple quieted when everyone got seated, and the service began. The rabbi appeared and greeted the congregation, said a few words to bless the day and to inform everyone of the special joint bar/bat mitzvah they had to read for them today. The Torah was brought from the ark in a beautiful procession before Dipper and Mabel were called up.
Dipper stood up, forced some fake confidence and made his way to the bema to read before the sea of people in the sanctuary. Mabel stood and smoothed her dress calmly, following behind her brother.
Stan was caught up in a wave of dread and shame. Everything in the temple was reminding him of the life he lost in Glass Shard Beach, of baptist luncheons, the all encompassing heat of the Colombian night sky, of the teenager that could have been him, that was him, booted from her home. Of crushing, suicidal hopelessness and firebombs. He didn't belong here.
Stan reached up to tug a lock of hair that wasn't there.
Dipper opened his mouth and began to read before the congregation. His Hebrew was a little shaky at first, but his dedication showed, and read with strong conviction.
Something in Ford snapped then. The ticking time bomb in his head struggling to choose between fight or flight had made a decision, and there was no stopping it.
Dipper searched in the sea of people for his parents, and caught their eye.
Out of the corner of Stan's eye, he saw Ford stand up so fast he almost missed it, and that was all the invitation he needed.
Dipper glanced over to where he knew Ford and Stan would be seated, just in time to see the back of Stan's tuxedo as he and Ford slipped through the door. Dipper paused his speech for a moment, having to clear his throat, and hoped to himself that his Grunkles were okay. Dipper continued, knowing that the show must go on.
Stan was practically pushing Ford down the hallway leading to the exit, wanting nothing more than to run away and never set foot in another religious building again, but Ford whipped around, grabbing Stan's wrist so hard it almost cracked, and shoved them into the bathroom Dipper had mentioned earlier.
"W-we can't- We c-c-can't leave Dipper's i-in th-there he's counting on us- oh god-" Ford stammered out, shoving all his weight against the bathroom door to barricade it. The bathroom was close enough to the sanctuary that Stanley and Ford could still hear everything that was going on inside, crystal clear even through Stan's hearing aid, like it was designed that way on purpose, so no one could escape the crushing feeling that they didn't belong there. Ford sunk down to the ground, still leaning against the door, and unsheathed the knife he had concealed beneath his pants leg. His knuckles were white against the hilt, but holding the weapon made the panic a little less blinding, at least.
Stan panted, desperate to catch his breath, and stepped back when Ford pulled his weapon out. "Woah, F-Ford, easy there…. We're here, we didn't bail, we just need to calm down a little...we'll be at the party." He took deep breaths and ran the faucet in order to splash water on his face. Stanley knew well by now how to calm himself down when he really needed to, but Ford looked long gone. Stan got down on one knee in front of Ford and looked him dead in the eyes "Just breathe, Ford. We'll get through this."
In the sanctuary, Dipper finished his reading and returned to his seat. He glanced back and noticed his grunkles were still missing, and his heart sank with worry. Where did they go? Is something wrong? Should I go check on them? Dipper tapped his father's shoulder and whispered, "I'm going to the bathroom." Sherman gave a quiet nod, squeezing his son's shoulder. Quietly, ignoring the stares of the congregation, Dipper slipped through the sanctuary and through the exit he'd shown his uncles. Mabel stood and began her reading, her voice carrying throughout the sanctuary.
"I-I-I can't- I c-can't d-do this, Stan." Ford stared at the knife, a thirteen inch blade, full tang, reminding himself that he wasn't vulnerable, he could defend himself just fine with this. "Y-you saw how m-many pe-people were in th-there. They-they're go-gonna- They're gonna kill us, Stan, they're gonna sa-sacri-" Ford's stutters faded into hitched and labored breathing.
Stan froze, memories of shaving his head, of joining the compound, rising to the surface. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he swore he felt the same feeling of dread he'd felt all those years ago. A scene flashed through his mind; Ford, younger, tied up on a stake somewhere in a far off world, or maybe this one. Cultists- Stan among them- surrounding him as a firebomb dropped towards his head. He knew exactly what had Ford so spooked, and it wasn't the crowd, not entirely. Stan slowly inched towards his brother, hands trembling. When Ford didn't jump away or try to attack him, Stan sat, back to the door, helping Ford barricade them in the empty bathroom. The sound of Mabel's Hebrew filtered through the walls.
"We're Jewish, Stanford. No one's gonna sacrifice anyone." He said quietly.
"...They did good, at least." Stan said, struggling to control his breathing.
"...Y-yeah… I-I'm proud of them." Ford said, twirling the knife in his hands.
There was a small push against the door of the bathroom, making Stan jump to his feet and Ford lean against the door harder, and then a panicked knock.
"Great Uncle Ford? Are you in there? Is everything okay? I can't get in." Dipper's familiar voice squeaked. Stan's eyes went wide, glancing from Ford's face to the knife in his hands. Ford seemed to have gotten the message, and hid the knife back under his pants leg. Ford took a deep, shaky breath, trying to compose himself, and stepped away from the door. Without anyone there to block it, the door swung open when Dipper tried to push it again.
"Whoa!" Ford's hands were faster than lightning, his nerves putting him on edge had made him quicker than normal, and caught Dipper just before he hit the ground. "Are you okay?" He asked, his voice still wavering a little.
Dipper scrambled to stand back up on his own, smoothed out his suit, and adjusted his tallid. "Yeah, I'm fine, are you okay?" Dipper shut the door and looked at his two grunkles, hiding in the bathroom of a synagogue. "I saw you get up...are you feeling sick?"
"Y-you could say that…" Ford said quietly, kneeling down to Dipper's level. "Go back to the service, Dipper. We'll… We'll meet you at the party. You and Mabel were great out there, we just got a little anxious is all." Dipper couldn't really wrap his head around what was so threatening about a synagogue. At first, he'd thought Ford was anxious because of the crowd, and maybe that was still true, but then why was Stan in here, too? He looked just as panicked as his brother.
"Okay… its okay, Great Uncle Ford. I don't think anybody else noticed you leave, except maybe Mom and Dad, but they'll understand. I think half of the people in there are asleep." He chuckled half heartedly. "You're gonna be okay." He patted Ford gently on the shoulder, and walked over to Stan to offer him the same affection. "Don't miss the party, okay? There's gonna be cake…" Dipper slipped out of the bathroom on that note and hurried back to the sanctuary.
Ford and Stan stood there for a moment, speechless, listening to the last of Mabel's reading.
Slowly, Ford's hyperventilating died down, and Stan's heart stopped feeling like it was going to burst through his chest. Stan looked to Ford and started to laugh, quiet at first, but then he couldn't stop. It seemed so ironic to him, after all summer of handling Dipper and his paranoia, the tables had turned. Dipper really did become a man, or so it seemed to Stanley. After a few seconds, Ford actually joined in.
"I don't know what we ever did to deserve a family like that one," Ford started, leaning back against the wall, still a little nervous but not in a panic anymore.
"But I don't know what we'd do without 'em." Stan finished, leaning on the sink for support, one hand over his face. "We could go wait in the hall where they're doing the party, its probably empty right now. I don't think I want anyone comin' in the bathroom and seein' us like this. I'm up for the party if you are, poindexter"
Taking note from Stan's book, Ford splashed some water on his face and leaned over the opposite sink. "I suppose I am. Though I haven't been to a party in decades."
"...I'll stick with you." Stan said, not meeting Ford's eyes. "If you want."
"I believe that would be best, but you don't have to." Ford responded, and shut the water off. "...Thank you."
Stan paused. Ford had been thanking him a lot lately. For what, and why, Stan didn't know. A part of him wanted to push the matter, ask him why Ford had suddenly decided to start appreciating him. But the rest of him had been put through the emotional wringer, and elected to let it be.
Stan and Ford peeked out of the bathroom and made their way to where Mabel and Dipper's party would be held, thankfully they were uninterrupted on their walk. With nothing to do, and really nothing to say, Stan and Ford each pulled up a chair and sat in silence, waiting for the service to end. The hall had been decorated in all blue and purple, balloons and streamers everywhere. There was a big cake in the corner of the room, three tiers high, embellished with all kinds of beautiful frosting, sugar pearls, smooth and velvety looking fondant. There was a DJ table set up, and every table had a nice centerpiece and fancy napkins and silverware. Mabel and her mother had overseen the whole thing, planned out every single detail months and months ahead of time. The scene looked almost sad without people and lights and music, but it was at least peaceful, and a more than welcome respite after the past couple days.
A few hours later, the service ended, and people began to file out of the sanctuary, making their way towards the Newman Hall, where the party was being held. Sherman and Alexandria had zipped ahead of all of them. Stan and Ford slipping out of the sanctuary hadn't escaped their notice, and it had them worried. They could be anywhere by that point, and if they weren't in the synagogue it could be hours before anyone found them in a city as big as San Francisco.
Alexandria burst into Newman Hall, Sherman in tow, and gasped with relief when she saw Stan and Ford in the darkness. "Oh, goodness, you guys scared us! Are you okay, what happened?"
"We're so sorry, Alexandria. We didn't mean to skip out on the service." Stan began, standing up to address the couple.
"We just…" Ford began, but trailed off. Getting anxious in the temple was easy to explain to a child; it would never occur to Dipper that Ford and Stan had issues with religion itself. But Sherman and Alexandria were older, wiser. They would piece it together, and they likely would not understand, or worse, take it as an affront to their beliefs when this was not the case. Still, they deserved the truth. "Between the crowd and the service… We just got anxious is all. We had to duck out to avoid making a scene."
"That's a bit of a relief. Not to dismiss your discomfort, but we thought it might be something… supernatural… that sounds kind of silly in retrospect, but after hearing your story last night, it seemed like a very real possibility." Sherman said, wiping his brow.
"Don't… Don't worry." Ford said, fidgeting with his coat. "Supernatural anomalies exist everywhere, but if you were to take a map of the world, and put a pin in that map for every anomaly that happened, you'd find a higher concentration in Gravity Falls than anywhere else. And the supernatural phenomena there have existed side by side with humans for thousands of years, at least. Granted, they're still a threat every now and again, but on the whole things are peaceful. I probably should have explained that last night." He said, scratching the back of his head.
Sherman and Alexandria both laughed, almost too hard. "Oh my gosh, that's a relief! Well...for us at least. We're both glad that you're okay." Sherman said with a grin. "The kids should be here soon, and guests'll be pouring in, so you might want to make yourselves comfortable. It'll just be some other distant relatives and the kids' friends from school, nothing too intimidating, and definitely not as many people as there were at service."
Alexandria scoffed. "Teenagers are very intimidating, Sherman, don't speak too soon."
"Alexandria, I couldn't agree more." Ford deadpanned. The doors burst open then, making Ford jump a little.
Dipper and Mabel dashed across the hall and ran to hug their grunkles.
"We're so glad you're alright!" Mabel said, clutching Ford's waist, staring up at him with big brown eyes.
"Of course we're alright, kiddo!" Stan said, trying to play it off. He picked Dipper up and hugged him close. "Thanks for what you did back there, kid." He whispered in his ear.
Dipper squeezed Stan back and smiled at him. "Its the least I can do, Grunkle Stan," Dipper whispered back.
The guests started to filter in through the doorway, and Dipper and Mabel broke their hugs. Everyone was toting gifts wrapped in pretty paper and dressed in their finest. A gaggle of tween girls squealed when they saw Mabel, and they all giggled and merged into a crowd together, talking nonstop like most thirteen year old girls do. Quite a few relatives on Alexandria's side showed up, and even Dipper had a couple of friends who made it to the party.
"Come on he's over here!" Dipper said, pulling a stout blonde boy behind him, making his way towards Ford. "Great Uncle Ford, this is my friend, Jason. Jason, this is my Great Uncle! He's the one who studies the paranormal! He's a brilliant scientist with lots of cool inventions, and he was probably involved in the Reagan conspiracy!" Ford jumped a tad, but knelt down to Jason's level once he realized this new child wasn't a threat.
"Hi, Jason. I'm Stanford Pines." He said with a lopsided smile.
"Jason Crampelter, put 'er there!" Jason stuck his hand out for a friendly shake.
Ford froze, hesitant to show someone named "Crampelter" his six fingers. But Dipper was here. If he picked up on his hesitation, he might get insecure about his birthmark again.
Ford stuck his hand out carefully, as careful as someone diffusing a bomb, giving Jason a firm handshake.
"Nice to meet you, Jason."
Jason Crampletler completely missed Ford's hesitation, and figured he had a thing about germs, or maybe just people. "Dipper told me lots of cool stuff about you. Did you really catalogue a bunch of paranormal monsters in a series of books? That's pretty hardcore. Did you ever fight one?" This kid looked a little too stoked about the idea of fighting a supernatural creature.
"I've fought more than a few in my time, yes." Ford said, surprised that this kid was so interested in his work.
Jason looked up at Ford as if he was some mysterious rogue ghost hunter, intimidated but in a good way, hoping maybe a monster shows up and I can see Dipper's cool uncle in action.
"Dipper's also fought a few. In fact, he's saved my life." Ford said, trying not to take away too much attention from his nephew.
Jason's jaw almost hit the floor. "DIPPER! You never told me that! What the heck, you've been holding out on me!?"
"Oh, he's just modest. See, we were fighting this wizard that had shrunk us into game pieces. Uh, you ever heard of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons?" Ford continued when Jason nodded his head. "So Probabilitor the Annoying himself had come to life, and we were tiny DD and More D pieces, and Stan, my brother, and Mabel are trying to think of weapons and moves. Neither of them had ever played before, so it was a little difficult. But Dipper fought like a champ! He sliced some ogres right in two! Why, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him." Ford said, dramatically.
Jason about had a freak out, punching Dipper's arm in excitement, and shaking him violently. "DUDE! You've gotta tell the DD and More D group at school, they'll flip!"
Meanwhile, on the dancefloor, Mabel was having the time of her life, twirling in circles with her girlfriends. She danced over to Stan and tugged on his hand, pulling him up from his chair, "I know they're not playing old man music, but you should come dance with me! I know you're good, i've seen you dance to Dipper's BABBA CD when you thought nobody was looking. And you were great at 'The Stan Wrong Song.'"
Stan hesitated as Mabel pulled him closer to the crowd of strangers dancing to new aged teeny-bopper music. "I don't know, Mabel, I don't want to outshine you." He said with false confidence. He still knew all his old moves from the seventies, but nowadays? With all the twerking and jerking and… Something about snakes? Stan didn't really care to dance much anymore.
Mabel gripped Stan's hands and swayed from side to side, having him twirl her around now and then to display the maximum poof of her dress and her bouncy curls. In that moment, she was having the time of her life, looking up at her Grunkle Stan like someone would look at their hero. "Grunkle Stan, can we throw a dance at the Mystery Shack again next summer? The first one was a lot of fun."
"Well, we did make lots of money with that dance...I don't see why not. But no silly string next time, it took me hours to get that gunk out of my shag carpeting." Stan said with a laugh. "How about we go find your brother? I have a little something to give you both, and I think that Ford's got something up his sleeve too." Stan winked, and led Mabel across the dance floor, searching for Ford and Dipper.
Dipper and Ford kept each other company by the punchbowl, the wallflowers of the event, while Sherman and Alexandria stood a table away to serve cake. Dipper waved at Mabel as she ran over, dragging Stan behind her. "Dipper, Grunkle Stan said he wanted to give us some presents!"
Dipper perked up at the mention of presents. "Really? You got us something?" He asked, looking up at Ford.
"Of course we did, Dipper. Now, let's see, where did I put… Ah, there it is!" Ford said, reaching into his coat pocket, being careful not to undo Stan's handiwork, pulling out two boxes, one wrapped in blue, the other in purple. Mabel excitedly grabbed her box, and Dipper took his delicately. They both unwrapped the paper at the same time, and gasped at the contents of the boxes.
Ford had given Dipper his own journal. Hand bound, with a blue cover and golden corner protectors. Sticking out from underneath the cover was a sheet of gold colored foil, presumably to decorate the cover with. Dipper glanced up at Ford, unsure of what to say.
"...I figured since you liked mine so much, you might want to make your own. The paper will never tear, I should know, I invented it myself." Ford said, tightening his lips into a thin line, thinking Dipper hated it. Of course he would, he admired Ford but certainly didn't want to be just like him-
Dipper lept up as high as he could, wrapping Ford's torso in as big of a hug as possible. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you!"
Mabel looked in her box and let out a big gasp. Ford had given Mabel what looked like another journal, in a deep purple color, but the inside was filled with high grade sketch paper, and a sheet of foil for her, too. The bottom of the box was lined with very high end colored pencils in just about every color you could imagine.
"The, uh, the wax from those colored pencils will never smear. And your paper won't tear, either." Ford said, trying to support Dipper so he wouldn't fall.
Mabel leaped up to join in on the hug, "Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!" she exclaimed, "Grunkle Ford, they're so pretty, thank you so much, I love it!" Ford stumbled backwards a bit from the momentum, but lifted the two twins with ease.
Stan smiled at Ford, he enjoyed seeing Ford treat their nephew and niece with such love, even if he seemed hesitant at times. "Don't break your grunkle kids, you still have another round of presents." Stan helped the two kids hop down, and reached to pull some packages from the pocket inside his own suit jacket. He handed Dipper what looked like a squished down manila envelope, and a teeny tiny box to Mabel, both of the gifts with an envelope attached.
Dipper ripped open the packaging and pulled out a big puffy vest, like the same one he wore over the summer. This one was a little bigger, to grow into, and had a familiar pine tree logo stitched on the back, and a Mystery Shack patch sewed on the front. The vest had huge pockets, perfect to fit the journal in.
"For when you're older. That's, uh, that's hand stitchin' you know…" Stan said, trailing off. He didn't like to admit to anyone that he knew how to sew, and that he was pretty darn good at it too.
Dipper tried it on over his suit, looking like a pretty big dork as the jacket sagged down almost to his knees. He hugged Stan as tight as he could. "I love it, Grunkle Stan, It's perfect."
Mabel took the dainty ribbon off of her box and opened it slowly. It contained a beautiful necklace: A fossilized bug encased in glowing amber, laced through a gold chain. Mabel took the necklace out to inspect it and tapped Stan on the shoulder. "This is so pretty, Grunkle Stan! Would you put it on me?" She turned and held her hair out of the way.
"Of course, sweetie." Stan said, kneeling down to fix the clasp around her neck. Mabel looked down at the necklace, it was completely unique and special, a weirdly pretty gift for a weird and pretty girl. "Why don't you… uh, why don't you two open your cards?" Stan said, smiling down at the kids.
Dipper inspected the envelope attached to his gift, as his sister opened hers as well. They both smiled at the sweet cards, something definitely from the 89 cent card section at the supermarket, but inside was five hundred dollars, each. Normally money was given in multiples of 18, but Stan decided to go against tradition just this once. Neither of the kids had ever seen that much money from one card before, and neither had expected it to come from Stan, of all people.
"You kids put that money into a savings account, okay? Keep it close to you until your parents can take you to a bank tomorrow, and don't let anyone else know you have all that on you." Stan said. The kids were still gaping when their parents came over to inspect the commotion. When Sherman saw the amount of cash the kids had in their hands, he about fainted.
"Holy shiiieeeerman. Holy Sherman, that's what I was going to say, none of you can prove anything otherwise." Sherman glanced around the room. "Kids, who gave you all that? You need to make sure to thank them very well." Both of the twins pointed a finger at Stan, still speechless.
Sherman gave both of them a pointed look, before Dipper and Mabel finally mutter a hushed "Thank you, Grunkle Stan." They knew their grunkle as the broke cheapskate, how did he get all of this money, why was he giving the kids this much? The kids slowly moved towards Stan, as if moving too fast would make the money in their hands crumble to dust, and hugged him as tightly as they could, in awe of how much money there was in their hands right now. Stan held both of the kids tight, and he couldn't help but shake a little. He had saved that money for the kids all summer, and put it aside in a safe place so he made sure he never touched it. It was part of the reason he tried to be so frugal with the kids around. Well… that and one other thing. When the twins finally broke away, they put their money back in the cards and resealed the envelopes as best they could. Mabel, lacking pockets, handed her envelope to Dipper, who tucked both away inside his suit jacket. The sensation of holding that much money felt strange and heavy, but he felt he could handle the responsibility. Stan took a deep breath, standing up from where he'd been crouched down, and noticed Sherman staring at him.
"Stan, can I talk to you for a second?" He said quietly, moving off to the other side of the table, closer to the wall and away from the hubbub of the party. "... You didn't have to give them that much money, Stanley." Sherman said, leaning up against the wall.
"Yes I did." Stan said, folding his arms. "I'd planned on giving it to them from the moment they walked through my door. If they start saving now, and they need money in the future, they'll have it." He wanted to provide the kids with a security fund, he knew how important money was in dire situations.
"Stan, as their father I appreciate it, I really do, but that's still a lot of money. I know you just want to look out for the kids, but-" Sherman stopped dead in his tracks, suddenly remembering what exactly Filbrick Pines had been like in life. A strict, unforgiving man who was not easily impressed. A man cold enough to kick his son to the curb, a man who saw the remaining sons as a way to earn money and little else. A man so awful and demeaning that Sherman Sr had refused to let Filbrick near his child alone. "It must've been hard…" Sherman said quietly. "Filbrick was a jerk. A capital J jerk and I wish we weren't in a synagogue or around children so I could use some stronger language. You didn't deserve what he did, and you don't deserve to be affected by it so many years later. Still, though… Five hundred dollars, for each of them?"
"I don't want the kids going through the same things I did." Stan wasn't looking at Sherman, he was scanning the crowd, eyes locking on Ford, who was being led somewhere by Alexandria. "Heh, you know, after thirty years being a homeowner, I still live like I'm on my last dollar? I rake in 60 thousand a year, easy. Hell, I've got people buying bits of broken glass as Christmas presents! But I can't stop ordering quarter sized plates at restaurants, I can't stop taking all the condiments from deli counters and shoplifting tangerines. You know, once, things got so bad I could only afford the dollar menu at McDonalds about once a week? I used to date this girl, Carla McCorkle. Love of my life. One night we snuck into the county fair, and I won a week's worth of groceries at one of the carnival booths. I was so proud of myself, it was one of the happiest days of my life. Now that I'm not shoveling every spare penny towards rebuilding the portal, I'm actually sitting on a lot right now. It's not millions, not the fortune my dad wanted from me, but it's a decent amount. I could fix up the Shack if I wanted, redo the floors, fix every leaky pipe, fix the sign on the roof. But I can't bring myself to do it. I've got this guy who works for me, his name is Soos. Great kid, fantastic kid. Best handyman I've ever had, employee of the year, every year. He always stuck by me, and I've tried to do the same for him. And some weeks it's hard for me to write out his paycheck, the one I know he's earned and then some. I don't want those kids to ever go through that."
Sherman was impressed, and moved by Stan's story. It was admirable, what Stan did, he knew. Sherman had always been happy and thankful that he could provide his children with a privileged life, a life he felt his children deserved, and he was more than willing to extend the same provisions with his estranged uncle. "Stan, Alexandria and I could never thank you enough for all you've done for the kids. All they've talked about since they came home is Gravity Falls. They've never had that sort of...grandfather figure, or even really an uncle figure, and I didn't either. Though I guess you're kind of both. Having you, and now Stanford, in our lives is a blessing." Sherman offered Stan a handshake, but got pulled into a big bear hug instead, causing Sherman to laugh.
Then he felt Stanley shaking.
Is he crying...? Sherman held his uncle and gave him a big pat on the back. Stanley couldn't begin to fathom the right thing to say. No one over the age of twelve has said that to me in a while? No, no that's stupid. I'm glad someone in this family doesn't hate me? No, what? I'm glad you're not repulsed by my horrible old man face? Nah, he's not a little kid at the Mystery Shack. I'm sorry I didn't try to connect with the family sooner? Thanks for makin' me not feel worthless? Like I'm not garbage?
Sherman just held Stanley tighter.
Ford kept fidgeting with his hands. He'd resolved to never hide them again, but a lifelong habit is a hard one to break. His chipped and uneven fingernails scratched and tugged at the skin near his thumbs, breaking the surface but not deep enough to bleed. Without Dipper and his friends to distract him, it felt like the crowd was getting thicker and thicker. Alexandria had been right, of course. There were far less people at the party than there had been in the service, but the number of guests was still about triple the size of a crowd at the Mystery Shack.
"Are you alright?" Someone's voice broke through the panic beginning to creep in Ford's head. He looked up to meet Alexandria's eyes. She was holding two glasses of punch, offering one to him.
"I'm fine." Ford said simply. "And thank you for the punch, but I'll have to pass." He'd been fine back at the house, with people he trusted, but in a party like this? With this many people? The only way he'd be eating or drinking anything was if he made it himself.
Alexandria set one of the glasses down and sipped from the other. "I'm glad you seem to be feeling better. I think Dipper's friends love you as much as he does. You've really made an impression on him, he's so inspired to do his own kinds of research… It's refreshing to see him so passionate. Before the summer began, Dipper was in a bit of a slump. He doesn't have as many friends as Mabel, and he would spend so much time alone, reading or playing one of his video games. Mabel used to have to drag him out of the house to get some fresh air. I'm glad they seem closer now, but going to Gravity Falls, and meeting you is just what he needed."
Ford furrowed his brow, frowning. "I'm glad I could help. I really am. But meeting me? Is the last thing anyone needs."
Alexandria frowned right back, a hand on her hip. "Hey now, I loved meeting you. And I'm sure it was pretty exciting for the kids. I don't think you realize just how good with them you are… Dipper identifies with you so much, you talked sense into him about wiping off that makeup this morning, and just being himself. He looks so happy today, I think he's forgotten about it. He thinks that people don't understand him, but you do."
"...And you don't understand me, or what I've done. It's not good, Alexandria."
"Stanford, I don't think you're this evil villain you're making yourself out to be."
"It's… more of a Jekyll and Hyde thing…" Ford's hands were beginning to tremble, panic taking over again.
"Well, I've only met Henry Jekyll, and he's considerate, kind, and very intelligent. Maybe you were Edward Hyde at one point, but… I think you're a version that managed to find the cure. That's enough to win me and the rest of your family over." Alexandria reached for Stanford's hand slowly, holding it with one hand, patting it with the other. "You should give yourself more credit."
At this, Ford let out a dark chuckle. "Credit? Alexandria, the 'cure' that killed Hyde was performing self surgery, without an ounce of medical knowledge, and installing a metal plate in my head. I can't function like a normal human being without a weapon somewhere on my body-" Ford blanched, realizing the depth of what he'd just confessed. He pulled his hand away, turning to leave as fast as possible, to just wait outside on a park bench or, better yet, steal away into the night, never to be seen again.
Alexandria fished her key ring from her purse, grabbing Ford's wrist and spinning him around before he could walk away. In addition to normal everyday keys, it was armed with a pocket knife, mace, and a pink knuckle duster in the shape of a cat, "What kind of woman in an urban city isn't armed at all times? It's a necessity, and I get where you're coming from. People like us need to be on high alert at all costs. It's an awful double standard, but when anyone could be trying to kidnap you or worse..." She took a deep breath. "It might not be the kind of weaponry you're talking about, but I know what it's like to be afraid of everyone you encounter in new and strange places. I do what I have to do to feel safe." Ford didn't say anything, not at first. His breathing was picking up, he could feel another panic attack coming on.
"...You know how earlier I said I was fine?" Ford took a second to continue, focusing on trying to keep his thoughts from racing. "...I was lying." Alexandria gave a quiet nod, gently grabbing Ford's wrist.
"Just follow me." She said, weaving them through the crowd. "Do you like open spaces or do you prefer to be indoors?"
"I-Indoors, just… away from people…" Ford said, trying to focus on something, anything, to keep him calm.
Alexandria swiftly led Ford out of the party, to a secluded hallway near the restrooms with a little bench and a water fountain. "I can keep a look out for you if you need some time alone." She offered.
Ford faltered, his hands still shaking, itching to grab the knife under his pant leg. There was something about Alexandria, something quiet and unassuming. Despite not knowing her for more than three days, her presence wasn't setting his instincts on fire, wasn't screaming at him to defend himself, to kill, be killed, or run. "Can... can you stay? You don't have to, I- You can go back to the party... if you want." Alexandria nodded, and for a brief moment, Ford thought she was going to leave. But no sooner than the thought popped into his head did Alexandria sit down beside him, folding her dress neatly beneath her.
"Not a problem, Stanford." She placed her purse in her lap and relaxed, knowing if she had a calm demeanor, it would be likely make Stanford feel calmer, too.
For a long while, the two sat in silence.
"You know, it's funny..." Ford whispered. "I didn't used to get this bad. A few years, that's all it took. I adapted, I wasn't as... scared of everything. I learned to compartmentalize, to ignore the bad stuff, the universe was so big I didn't have time to process how it affected me. Then I got back... and now it's like everything matters again. When I first stepped out of the portal, I felt fine, better than fine. Like after years I finally found a reason to hope again, but..." Ford paused, trying to gauge whether or not Alexandria would really be able to understand, or even remotely comprehend, what he was about to say. "I can't stand the smell of freshly cut grass. I'm scared to death of it. Stan has to warn me before he goes out and mows the yard, because the last time he did it without telling me I wouldn't come down from the roof. I hate the way nylon feels against my skin, when the sky turns green during a bad thunderstorm I get so bad it makes today seem like a walk in the park. It's... little things, things that I never thought I'd notice." Ford's voice was barely audible. His mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to list all the magical items that Alexandria might have on her, items to make him open up, to tell her his greatest weaknesses, but none of them could explain why the instinct in his gut, well honed after thirty years, was no longer screaming at him.
Alexandria listened with her full attention and waited for him to finish. "I know a lot of people who have little things like that. For some people, sure, it's much more serious. You've gone through so many obstacles in your life and you deal with issues the best you you can, and I think you're very strong. I couldn't imagine the way I would handle myself in your shoes, it takes a strong person to be a survivor. You're a survivor, Ford."
Ford couldn't shake the feeling that he was somehow manipulating this woman, that he was luring her in with his own sob story.
"You... you would have found your way." Ford said. "The first dimension, the one I arrived in from this one? That was one of the hardest..." He was a little calmer now, no longer itching to grab his knife, his breathing a little quick but not hyperventilating. "You know, a lifetime ago, I would be telling Stan all of this? And, failing that, my... my good friend Fiddleford. But Stan hurt me, and I hurt Fiddleford, and I guess over the past thirty years I hurt Stan, too. Sometimes... I wish we could go back to the way things were... but I don't want to get used like that again... And I don't know how to fix things now. But... I'm glad I got to meet you. And I'm glad you stuck around..."
"You know, I once broke Sherman's heart. I was a really snotty girl in college. He was the sweetest nerd I had ever met, and I let him take me out on dates and buy me things, and I led him on. It took me a while to realize what I was doing was wrong, and after I broke things off I began to miss him. I felt so guilty, I was the worst. So I pulled on my big girl panties and I apologized. He didn't talk to me for about a month, and then suddenly we were friends, we started from square one. He's now my best friend and my husband, and I had to trust in him and myself, that we could communicate and make things right. That's really the key to any relationship, just being honest, and building trust. You have to have faith in the people you love."
"...I can't put my faith in anyone. Never again." Ford said. "The only person I really trust these days is Dipper. And I can't exactly vent to a thirteen year old."
"Well, I have faith in you. I have faith that my kids trust you, that you treat them well, and that you are good, despite your past." Alexandria said simply, looking down at her lap. "I don't know what made you put a metal plate in your head-"
"You don't want to know that. Ever." Ford's voice was grave, and if he'd spoken to anyone but Alexandria Pines they would have fled.
"-But I do know that it's over now, or at least under control." She finished. She opened her purse slowly, found her wallet, and produced a business card. "This has my cell phone number on it, in case you need to talk to someone who isn't my thirteen year old son." She chuckled a bit. Ford's fingers ghosted over the embossed lettering, a shiny metallic gold, with a little red vine on the left side. The card read, 'Dr. Alexandria Pines, Social Psychologist.' So that's why I felt so...safe.
Alexandria gave Ford another smile and closed her purse. "I want to help you. Not only because it's my job, but you're my family. And if you aren't comfortable with that I could make some calls and have some recommendations for professionals closer to Gravity Falls. I can't guarantee that they'll believe you about the paranormal, but they'll at least listen." She placed a hand gently on his shoulder, "You don't have to feel scared the rest of your life. There are many people who care about you, and want to see you feel safe"
Ford didn't know what to say. A part of him wanted to run away. As much as he hated panicking at every little thing, those instincts had saved his life on more than one occasion. A part of him wanted to kick himself for not figuring out that Alexandria was a psychologist of all things, a part of him still didn't trust her, didn't trust her motives behind getting inside his head.
"Just think about it. It's your decision, you don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with...How are you feeling now? I hope I haven't upset you." Alexandria tried her damnedest not to over analyze Ford in her head, thinking of hundreds of ways she could advise him in coping with his anxiety and fear. But she had dealt with people who absolutely didn't want her help, and she knew better than to force herself on a patient.
She was surprised when a six fingered hand moved to hers, gripping it tight.
"... I think... I'll call you later, to make my first appointment."
Alexandria beamed, a dead ringer for Mabel's smile, and squeezed his hand back. "Great! We can have Skype sessions, I'll be accessible over the internet, anytime." She rose from her seat, still holding her Uncle-in-law's hand. "How about we go check on the party, see if they're surviving without us?"
"... Okay, but what is Skype?" Ford asked.
"Oh, it's like a phone, but on your computer, and you can see the person on the other line. I can just call if you prefer." Alexandria said, leading Ford back towards Newman Hall. Just outside the double doors, Ford paused.
"Alexandria?" Ford quickly wrapped his arms around her, and for the first time since they'd left the house, Ford felt completely at ease. "Thank you."
Alexandria was taken aback for a moment, but returned Ford's hug, rubbing his back like she would do to comfort her own children. "You're absolutely welcome."
The party had died down quite a bit. Dipper and Mabel were chatting next to a mountain of presents, trying not to fall asleep, and slowly the party guests filtered out of the hall. Sherman and Stanley sat at an empty table, chatting over a few glasses of punch.
"Alexandria, where'd you run off to? You missed some of Stanley's… unique dance moves!" Sherman laughed, standing up to hug his wife.
"Hey, those were classic back in my day!"
Alexandria chuckled at the thought Stanley Pines dancing. "Stanford and I needed a little breath of fresh air, we… had fun, chatting together." She kept one hand on Ford's shoulder, silently assuring him that she'd never tell a soul about their agreement unless he asked.
Dipper and Mabel made their way over to the grown-ups table, and took a seat next to Stan and Sherman. "Grunkle Stan, I'm really happy you and Great Uncle Ford came to our party...thank you." Dipper latched onto Stanley in a sweet hug.
"Of course we came, buddy boy. We wouldn't miss it for the world." Stanley said, tousling Dipper's hair.
"You did great out there. I'm so proud of you." Ford said, placing a hand on Dipper's shoulder. He wanted to apologize for missing so much of his bar mitzvah, but the nagging feeling that acknowledging that fact would only make things worse won over.
Dipper smiled up at ford, hearing that Ford thought so highly of him, that he did well, was all he needed. "Thanks, Great Uncle Ford." He'd understood why Ford was absent so much, he was aware that Ford got panic attacks, but knowing that his uncle had been paying attention to him was the greatest feeling in the world.
Mabel sunk in her chair and sighed "Do you guys really have to leave tonight? I wish you could stay longer."
"I wish we could, too, Mabel. But we've got Soos and Fiddleford and Waddles waiting for us at home." Ford said, smiling a little. "And I'm sure Waddles will want to hear all about how you're doing, especially once I nail down the blueprints for a device that lets you talk to pigs."
Mabel giggled and hopped up to hug Ford around the waist. "Oh, Grunkle Ford, I know Waddles can understand me. He's almost as smart as you."
"Then I'll be sure to tell him you said that once we get back." He said, returning Mabel's hug.
Sherman stood up from his seat to put an arm around Alexandria, enjoying the view of their kids having a good time with their family. "I almost don't want them to leave either."
"I know what you mean, dear." She said, then turned to the grunkles. "We really did love having you. And if you're ever in the neighborhood, be sure to give us a call." Alexandria said.
Stan pried himself away from Dipper to get up from his seat. "We will, don't worry. But we probably should get going if we're gonna catch the bus back to Oregon."
"Grunkle Stan, can we call you sometime?" Mabel asked, still clinging to Ford.
"Mabel, sweetie, their number is in our cell phone. Stanley is right, they're gonna be late if we don't hurry." Sherman said, helping Mabel to her feet.
Mabel held onto her dad and slumped her shoulders "Okay, I guess you're right... But you better call us as soon as you make it back to the Mystery Shack! And when you get off the bus. And when you get ON the bus! Just call us!"
"Of course we will, sweetie." Stan said, glancing at his watch. "But we won't be able to get on the bus if we're not there."
Sherman grabbed his keys and ushered his family out of Newman Hall, with Stan and Ford helping to carry the kid's presents, out of the synagogue, and onto the sidewalk, steering them towards where they'd parked. "Your duffel's already in the back, you didn't forget anything at the house, right?"
"Even if we did, we didn't exactly take anything that we'd miss." Ford said, climbing into the backseat.
Stanley buckled in next to Ford after checking to make sure the kids were buckled in too. "Alright, let's high tail it to the Greyhound station."
"Stanley, I will pay you to never say the words 'high tail it' to my husband behind the wheel of a car again." Alexandria said. "He's a bit of a reckless driver."
"How much?" Stanley raised an eyebrow leaned forward in his seat. The car lurched forward and Sherman nearly hit a trash can.
"Fifty dollars." Alexandria said.
"He's almost as bad as you, Grunkle Stan." Dipper said, gripping his seatbelt.
"Fine, I'll take it." Stanley said, only half joking. "And I'm a GREAT driver, kid, good driving doesn't always correlate with traffic laws."
"Stan, in the past two weeks you've driven into a guardrail, hit a handicapped parking sign, scraped your car against the side of a parked truck, you hit the house…" Stanford was counting on his fingers.
"That truck was double parked, he had it comin'!"
"The house, Stanley. You hit the house. The stationary house that you have lived in for thirty years. And you hit it. With your car."
Sherman snorted at the banter coming from the backseat. With the argument going on distracting everyone from his own bad driving, he made it to the bus station in what seemed like no time.
"You'll call us when you get there, right?" Mabel said, hugging Stanley one last time before she had to crawl back in the second row of seats with Dipper.
"Of course, sweetie." Stan said. "You call us when you get home too, alright?"
Ford opened the trunk of the van, grabbing their duffel bag with ease. "Stanley, do you have our tickets?"
"Yeah, poindexter. They're in the side pocket." A part of Stan wanted to stay in San Francisco with the kids. He could, if he wanted. He wasn't banned in California. But as much as he loved the rest of the Pines family, he had his own little bit of family waiting for him back in Gravity Falls.
As Ford was digging in the duffel for their tickets, Alexandria caught his shoulder, and wrapped her arms around his torso. "I'll talk to you later, Stanford. We love you, and we'll miss you." Ford froze, fingers clutching the tickets, and soon he felt Dipper wrapping his arms around his legs.
Sherman stood by Stanley, an arm around his uncle's shoulder.
"It was great finally meeting you. The real you." He said, smiling softly. "Thank you."
Stanley and Stanford said their goodbyes, and turned to leave, pausing a few times to check that the Pines family was still in the lot outside the station.
The kids waved from the backseat window as their Grunkles walked off to their bus, and didn't stop waving until they disappeared into the Greyhound. Mabel reached for her mom's purse grabbed the camera. "Dipper, let's look at the pictures, I wanna see how good we look!"
This late at night, the station wasn't very crowded, and Stanley and Ford were on their bus in no time. Ford took a seat next to the emergency exit, and Stan sat beside him.
"That was fun. Exhausting, but… fun." Ford said quietly, only after the bus started moving. "We'll have to invite them up for Thanksgiving. People still celebrate that… Right?"
"Yeah…" Stan said, remembering how his own meals tasted in comparison to Mabel and Alexandria's. "Are you gonna cook?"
The Pines family made their way down the interstate in their SUV, with Sherman going at an appropriate speed now that they weren't on a time crunch. Mabel and Dipper crowding around the digital camera, laughing at all of the candid pictures of party guests Alexandria managed to take.
"Look, look, look! Here's one of Grunkle Ford and Jason!" Mabel said, pointing at the screen. Jason's jaw was practically on the floor, grabbing a very confused Dipper's tuxedo, and Ford was mimicking a swordfighting technique. "It looks like Jason peed his pants."
Ford began taking the safety pins out of his trenchcoat, one by one. Stanley took both their yarmulkes and put them in his jacket pocket.
"I'm gonna miss those kids." Ford said, after a while. He closed the safety pins around each other in a chain, and put the whole thing in his pocket. "We'll have to get Soos to show us how to use that Skype thing so we can see them."
"The what?" Stanley asked, "Please don't tell me you already know more computer crap than I do."
"Alexandria was telling me about it during the party. She said it was like… a phone, but on the computer. And you can see people on the other end." Ford smiled faintly, and he briefly wondered if he should tell Stanley he was going to schedule an appointment with her. He knew Stan worried, especially after what happened when they found Fiddleford in the bunker. He absentmindedly ran his fingers over the business card in his pocket.
Alexandria dozed off in the passenger seat of the SherMobile, Sherman's free hand rested over one of hers. The kids found a picture of the whole family, taken by Jason after Mabel begged for a solid three minutes. She and Dipper were up front, their parents knelt down next to them, and Stanley and Stanford stood in the back, an arm around each other's shoulders. The SherMobile swerved up a ramp, headed for an intersection on the highway. The kids leaned towards the side from the centrifugal force.
As Mabel stared at the picture, the front seat became illuminated by oncoming headlights. Dipper's hand flew out in front of her face. She didn't notice the sound of squealing tires filled the air, or glass shattering, there wasn't even time to scream.
Sherman and Alexandria Pines bodies crumpled between the weight of their own car and the weight of the sedan that had collided with them.