I do not own Gravity Falls.

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Into the Woods

Mabel's headache ebbed away by morning and the twins were sitting in the kitchen, playing a game of cards. They were tired of sitting about their room, so they relocated for a change of scenery.

"Got any threes?" asked Mabel, peering intently at her cards.

Dipper shook his head. "Go Fish."

Mabel snagged a card from the pile in the middle of the table. She leaned forward and placed her lips on the plastic straw sticking out of her glass, taking a few quick sips of her orange juice. Dipper scanned his cards for a moment before saying, "Got any aces?"

"Drat." Mabel frowned and tossed the ace of hearts at her brother. "I think you cheat."

"Not me," replied Dipper, collecting his cards. "Um…got any fours?"

"Dang it!" His sister pouted and shoved more cards over to him. Dipper grinned and started arranging his pairs in front of him. "I'm winning."

"I've still got cards, therefore I've still got a chance. If you screw up, that is. But if you keep going on a roll then I might as well fold in."

Bam!

The twins jumped in surprise and shock as a furry bundle skittered into the kitchen, shrieking madly. Dipper hastily climbed onto the kitchen table and snagged his sister by the back of her pajama shirt so that she would not attempt to approach it.

"It's a raccoon!" exclaimed Mabel, peering at the animal as it raced around in a confused daze. "I wonder where it came from. Wait, is it holding a book?"

Dipper blinked and noticed that the raccoon was indeed dragging a familiar leather-bound book with it across the tiled floor. "It's the journal!" he yelped, the golden six-fingered hand flashing at him. "Evil raccoon!"

He let go of his sister and jumped from the table. The raccoon spotted the oncoming preteen and took off, smashing through the mesh screen in the door and streaking across the green grass. Dipper shoved the door open and went after the animal in hot pursuit.

"Dipper!" cried Mabel, hurrying after her brother. She stumbled to a halt on the porch, where she could see two figures crashing through the forest. But they were moving at a quick speed and she knew would not be able to catch up.

The brunette bit her lip in concern. "Gee, I hope he comes back soon." Her gaze lifted to the grey sky. "It looks like it's gonna rain soon."

She teetered on the edge of the porch and listened intently. But she could not hear her brother's indigent shouts or the raccoon's panicked noises anymore. Everything was rather silent, with the exception of a few chirps of the woodland birds.

"They didn't waste any time," she couldn't help but marvel. "Dipper really loves that journal. He never moves that fast when he's sick. Guess he found his second wind. I hope he has a third wind to ride home."

A soft drizzle started to fall from the sky, the clear drops forming a gentle mist that blanketed the sleepy forest landscape. The concern bubbled up again and Mabel took a few steps onto the wet grass, squinting at the treeline of the forest. But her hopes of seeing her twin come stumbling out of the leaves, panting and holding his journal to his chest dwindled as the silence stretched on.

Should I go after him? What if he comes back while I'm out looking for him? Maybe I should wait a little bit longer and then if he doesn't come back, I'll go out on a search.

"What are you doing out here, kid?"

Mabel whirled around in surprise. Her great-uncle stood on the porch, a frown on his face as he stared down at her. His gaze flicked over to his damaged screen door and he added, "And what the heck did you do to my door?"

"It was a raccoon," informed Mabel.

"Ugh, those pests. Guess Soos didn't chase them all away."

"It's gone now."

"I can see that. Will you get inside? It's raining and you're gonna get worse if you stay out here." Stan's frown suddenly sharpened and he snapped his eyes around the yard. "Wait, where's your brother?"

Mabel pointed at the forest. "The raccoon took his journal and he went after it."

Stan felt his heart miss a few beats. "Dipper's out there?"

"Uh-huh. Can we go find him?"

"I'll go find him," said Stan, using one hand to firmly push his niece back into the house. "Watch a movie or something. I'll be back in a bit. Don't leave this house. If you need anything, go bug Wendy."

"Good luck!" called Mabel before she disappeared inside.

Stan stepped into the soaked grass, making quick tracks for the forest. He picked his way through the leaves and mud, peering through the wet haze in intent search for his nephew. "Dipper! Kid! Answer me!"

But there only the sounds of nature. Stan scowled, knocking aside a set of branches. "Stupid journal," he muttered bitterly. "Always giving me grief one way or another…"

He had seen the possessive, protective way Dipper treated the third journal. He hadn't wanted to return the mystical book back to the boy, but he knew that the twins would be better protected with it in their possession, even if it unnerved him. He hoped they would have been smarter than to let the secrets consume them.

And he had prayed that Dipper would have been smarter with the journal than a certain someone he once knew rather well a long time ago.

A horrible twisting feeling gripped his stomach, as the magic of the woods and the dangers that lurked within came to the forefront of his mind. And there was Dipper, in the lowest peak of his condition, stumbling around with very little way to protect himself.

"DIPPER! WHERE ARE YOU?"

"Grunkle Stan?"

The call was hoarse and weak, but it was enough to catch Stan's attention. Swivelling on his heel, Stan followed the sound of the small cry. "Kiddo?"

"Over here!"

Stan pushed his way through a section of thick leaves, grunting as a branch caught him across the cheek. Ignoring the thin, stinging cut, Stan focussed on his nephew.

The boy was crouched on the muddy ground, in an awkward position due to the fact his right ankle was caught between two gnarled aboveground roots. His dark blue flannel pajama bottoms were stuck to his legs and his bare feet were all scratched up, dark red cuts staining the pale flesh. He still had his blanket with him, the light red fleece fabric over his head like a makeshift umbrella. The material was damp and sagging from moisture, and his arms were covered in goosebumps from the chill. While his right leg was bent in an uncomfortable position, his other leg was used as a support to keep him off the ground as much as possible.

And there was the journal, pressed protectively between his left knee and his chest.

"Grunkle Stan," whimpered Dipper, tears of relief and pain forming in his eyes.

"Hold on, sport." Stan moved over to the twelve-year-old and, with a few grunts, managed to pull the roots up enough to allow Dipper to slip his ankle free.

"Ouch," he muttered, gingerly massaging his sore ankle.

"Come on, let's get your stupid butt home."

Dipper flinched. "I-"

"We'll talk when I'm certain you're not going to succumb to hypothermia." Stan stood up, brushing the dirt and leaves from his pants. "Can you walk?"

Dipper carefully stood up and immediately started to wobble. He was cold and tired and sore and in no shape to be walking in a straight line. Stan bent down and lifted the boy up, holding him close to his shoulder.

"Sorry," he whispered, staring at the ground in shame as his great-uncle started to walk back towards the Mystery Shack.

"You should be," grumbled Stan. "Nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Really?"

Stan arched an eyebrow at the tone of surprise. "You're ailing from a fever and you decide to take off into the woods just as it starts to rain. I didn't know how long it would take me to find you. So yes, you gave me a scare. What, did you think I'd just let you gallivant off?"

He did not receive an answer, so he gave Dipper's blanket, which was now draped over his head, a tug. "I asked a question, kiddo."

"Didn't think you care," the boy said softly. "You don't normally mind whenever we go into the forest. And you don't worry about me the way you worry about Mabel."

Stan attempted to lean back so that he could make eye contact with his nephew, but the boy suddenly had an iron grip on his damp tuxedo. "Runt, I don't normally mind when you go do whatever you do in this place because you're healthy and not likely to collapse from exhaustion and illness. And I worry about Mabel more than I worry about you because, come on, she tried to fly a week ago. She literally tried to fly. I think I lost a few years off of my life when I saw her jumping off the roof."

Dipper smiled slightly. "She had her grappling hook as a backup."

"Still don't know how I feel about her having that. But I'm sure you see my point. I don't think you're inclined to fling yourself off of a high place to join the geese."

"Not anytime soon."

"And that's why I don't have to worry about you. I love your sister, but she frightens me sometimes. I count on you to watch over her." Stan paused for a moment before adding, "But that doesn't mean I care about you less than I care about her. You're both pain in my butts."

A warm feeling spread through Dipper's stomach, dispelling some of the cold he was feeling. "I love you too."

They reached the Mystery Shack and Stan brought Dipper to the living room. Mabel brightened at the sight of her brother and eagerly reached out. "Bro bro!"

Stan set the boy down in the chair beside Mabel and she happily hugged him. "I'm wet," protested Dipper, though he welcomed the embrace.

"I know. You kinda smell too."

"Which means you're going back in the bath. But first I wanna say something." Stan knelt down so that he was at eye level with the twins. He pointed at the leather-bound book clutched in Dipper's hands. "This should not be cause for you to abandon all common sense."

"Sorry," said Dipper sheepishly. "It's just…it's important."

"It's not important enough to hold over your own wellbeing. Promise me that."

Mabel and Dipper exchanged a glance. Stan's tone was serious, and there was an emotion on his face that they couldn't quite identify. Though Dipper understood that his attachment to the journal might be some cause for concern, especially after the stupid stunt he pulled, so he would write off his great-uncle's behaviour as concern.

"Promise," he agreed.

"Double promise!" added Mabel.

Stan nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Let's get you cleaned up, sport."

Dipper abandoned his soaked blanket and damp journal with Mabel. He reached his arms up and Stan shook his head fondly as he took the small boy back in his arms.

"You and your sister. You're both going to make me go soft."

"Too late!" hollered Mabel. "You stood no chance against our adorable and cute charm!"

Dipper wound his arms around Stan's neck. "You really didn't."