Mabel quietly snuck down the stairs, craning her neck slightly around the corner to make sure the door to Grunkle Ford's room was shut before easing the front door open and slipping out. She shut the door behind her, fetched the lantern from the hook next to the door, and quietly lit it with a match before walking off the porch and up to the border of the forest, sitting down on the grass with the lantern next to her.
"…Hey, Grunkle Stan," she said quietly, tucking her nightgown over knees and hugging them. "Dunno if you're busy doing immortal forest guardian stuff or not…I mean, if I were an immortal forest guardian, I'd be pranking the gnomes or setting the unicorn realm on fire…but yeah…"
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, exhaling heavily. "…You said if I wanted to rant, I could, so…I am. Kinda seemed more useful than writing it in a diary, since I know for sure someone will listen, you know?" She rubbed her arms, going silent for a few moments.
"…So, the birthday party might be a bust. Candy is going to band camp for the last week of summer, and Grenda is flying to Austria to visit her boyfriend. They wont even be back in time to see us off when we leave. Not to mention when I visited Wendy, she told me things about high school and growing up…and none of it sounded good.
"It just…made me realize that this summer in Gravity Falls was my last summer as a kid. I'm turning thirteen in a week, I'm going back to Piedmont, where all of my old friends have already started 'growing up' and leaving me behind, and…I don't know if I'm READY to grow up." She wiped at her eyes, sniffling softly.
"I know, I know…I'll grow at my own pace and in my own time…but it just feels so BAD when I'm the last one to do it. Even Dipper's growing up faster than me. He's going to be taking advanced math and science classes, and I even heard Mom and Dad discuss maybe skipping him a grade or two next year. So…so where does that leave ME?"
Mabel wiped her eyes again, her sleeve starting to get damp. "Gravity Falls is the ONLY place I've REALLY felt at home since I turned twelve! I have REAL friends here, people who are just as weird as me, an' I had YOU. YOU understood me, probably more than Dipper even does! You cant come with us to Piedmont, Grunkle Stan, you have to stay HERE…an' you cant be with me in California like you can HERE! Not like I can call you, or write to you...now I can only kinda be with you for a couple of months once a YEAR! And it's not FAIR!"
She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. "W…what am I supposed to do NOW? I'm goin' back home to parents who don't understand me, a school with no real friends, and a brother who might skip a few grades and go to another school entirely!" She muffled a wail into her sleeves. "I don't wanna say goodbye to Gravity Falls! I don't wanna say goodbye to YOU, or Grunkle Ford, or ANYONE!"
Mabel cried into her sleeves, biting her lip to stop the noisy sobs from coming. "G…Grunkle Stan…I…I want you b-back…!" she wailed, her voice muffled into her arms. "I…I know I p-promised I'd live an' be happy…b-but I'm n-not ready…! Y…you just LEFT…I w-wasn't READY! I c-cant HELP b-but miss you!" She looked up, out into the darkness of the woods, hoping—praying—she'd see a glimmer of her Grunkle out there.
But there was nothing.
She let out a fresh wail, not bothering to muffle her cries this time. "Grunkle Stan…answer me…! P-please…! PLEASE—!"
"Mabel!"
Ford ran off the porch, hurrying up to his niece and scooping her up in his arms, holding her tightly, giving the dark forest a wary look before checking on her, hoping there was no sign of harm or—heavens forbid—possession, feeling a wave of relief when she showed no indication of either, tucking her head under his chin and rocking her quietly.
"Mabel, shhh," he said softly, petting her hair, trying to calm her crying. "Shhh, it's okay, sweetie, it's okay…"
Mabel buried her face into his sweater, feeling another wave of sobs rise up at the term of endearment, all of the emotions of the past couple of days coming out all at once, things that ran the gamut of minor inconveniences to major disappointments and hurts being drained from her head and her heart, leaving a large wet patch on his front that he couldn't care less about.
Ford held and shushed her quietly until she calmed down, starting to feel shaken at what he'd just witnessed. He had just FELT something was wrong, like an internal alarm was sounding off; an alarm that sounded faintly like a familiar whisper telling him to wake up and wake up NOW. He ran out of his room and managed to spot the dim lantern light by the forest, stepping outside and hearing Mabel talking to herself.
….rather, talking to the forest. It was soft and faint, but as soon as he heard her crying for Stanley…
God, he'd thought the worst…everything from sleepwalking to hallucinating to downright possession ran through his mind, and now only to find she was out here, crying herself ill over heartsickness, missing Stanley after a couple bad days for her…
'I cant do this Stanley…' he thought helplessly. 'It's not me that can make her feel better! I don't know what to DO!' He clenched his eyes shut, trying to keep his own emotions under control for Mabel's sake. 'This is all MY fault! Why do the children have to suffer for this too!? It's not FAIR!'
"…I'm so sorry, Mabel…" he murmured. "…I don't know what to do…" He let out a shaky breath. "I'm so useless to you kids…I couldn't look after my own brother...and still he trusts me enough with the two most important things in his life…" He petted her hair quietly, rocking her quietly. "You and Dipper take care of me more than I take care of you…I don't even now how I'm going to function when you and your brother leave…"
He felt hot, angry tears run down his face, his jaw quivering from the effort he was wasting trying to keep them at bay. "…You two are all I have left…"
Mabel curled up tighter, feeling drained and exhausted, but not so much as to lose her empathy. She felt so careless, forgetting that when she and Dipper left Gravity Falls, they'd be leaving Grunkle Ford behind too. She shifted around in his hold, curling her arms around his torso, hugging him tightly.
"…you do just fine," she replied softly. "You're trying…that's…that's what matters, right…?" She forced a brave smile on her face before letting it drop. "…We're a hot mess, aren't we?"
Ford's breath hitched somewhere between a laugh and a sob, hugging her tighter. "…I…couldn't describe it better myself," he replied. "Yes. Yes we are. Just a bunch of hot messes, unable to grieve properly."
Mabel leaned her head on his shoulder, going lax. "…'m tired," she mumbled. Ford sighed, reaching over and grabbing the lantern with one hand, tucking Mabel closer to him with the other before standing up, wincing at the slight pain in his knees, hating the reminder of his age.
"Then let's get you to bed, sweetie," he replied. "…maybe tomorrow, we can revamp your birthday plans with Dipper. We'll find some way to make it special, okay?"
Mabel hugged his neck, nodding. "M'kay," she murmured. "…You're gonna be there. Makes it special already."
Ford smiled, feeling a little mend in his heart as he headed back to the Shack.
Mabel blinked her eyes heavily, feeling the weight of depression lift off her, but still leaving her exhausted. She rested her head on her Grunkle Ford's shoulder as he carried her inside, her eyes flickering to the darkness of the woods one last time.
Through the trees, she spotted two softly-glowing lights, shaped faintly like the half-moon hanging in the sky. Through her heavy muffled exhaustion, she managed a soft smile.
He'd heard her after all.
Ford tiptoed up into the attic, trying to be as quiet as possible as he settled Mabel back in bed, relieved that she had gone to sleep. He was curious about the hint of a smile on her face, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. If she was feeling better, all the better for her.
He tucked her in, nudging one of her many stuffed animals in beside her as a comfort object before turning to check on Dipper, feeling a rush of panic when he saw that the bed was empty.
Ford flexed his hands tightly, hurrying down as quietly as possible to avoid waking Mabel up again, about to head downstairs when he noticed his brother's bedroom door cracked open.
He'd left the door shut tight all this time, and as far as he knew, neither of the twins made a habit of going in there…
…as far as he KNEW.
He crept up to the door, his hands shaking. He still hadn't gotten around to going through this room yet; he just couldn't bear to. Inside, he heard soft, muffled noises, knowing enough from the twins to know, to his relief, that it was Dipper.
Some relief. His nephew was having a breakdown, same as the boy's sister. There shouldn't be any relief in that fact.
He creaked the door open, seeing Dipper's silhouette from the dim light of the window. Dipper was sitting on Stanley's bed, his small frame shaking with muffled crying. Ford crept in, anxious that Dipper was crying so hard he didn't notice, and gently reached out, touching the boy's shoulder.
Dipper jumped with a startled yelp, looking up with wide, soaked eyes, and Ford could see both pain and fear in them.
"I…I'm s-sorry…!" Dipper stammered, tucking his arms in close like he was afraid…of what? "'m sorry, I…I didn't mean to…to be in here…!"
Is that was that was about? That he was afraid Ford would be angry for being in here?
Ford realized with a start that Dipper seemed to apologize every time Stanley was casually brought up in conversation, or when something concerned Stanley's personal items, or old wishes…
Dipper was afraid of bringing up Stanley to him.
"Oh…Dipper, no…" Ford said, sitting down next to him, almost wincing when Dipper flinched slightly and curled up on himself tighter. "…Dipper…you…don't need to apologize for being in here…"
Dipper's arms were tucked against his body, his fingertips pressing against his lips, looking like a frightened animal caught in a trap, worrying Ford further. Ford cautiously reached up and put a hand on Dipper's shoulder again, just resting it there to show he meant no harm. "…Dipper…talk to me," he said quietly. "…what's wrong?"
He could feel Dipper's body shaking under his hand, and began wondering just what was terrifying the boy so much. Dipper let out a shaky breath before taking another in, more tears running down his face.
"…'m sorry…" Dipper whimpered. "…h…haven't slept…in m'own bed for days...I've….been in here…" He clenched his eyes shut, letting out a choked sob. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…!"
Ford let out a heavy breath, extending his hand to Dipper's far shoulder, gently leaning Dipper to him. "…Dipper, why would I be mad about that?" he asked quietly. "…if…it makes you feel better sleeping in here, then by all means…" He sighed softly. "…then at least one of us isn't afraid to come in here…"
Dipper sniffled, his breath hitching sharply. "…I…I just…" he stammered, his hands wiping at his soaked face, doing nothing but smearing the tears everywhere. "…was…was it me…? Something…something I did…?"
Ford stared down at Dipper's head, shocked. "…what are you talking about?" he demanded. "Dipper, this wasn't your fault! You didn't do anything wrong!"
"THEN WHY IS HE GONE!?" Dipper shouted, pressing his hands to his eyes. "He's…why would he be GONE, then!?" He scrubbed at his face before pulling his hands away, staring at them like they had just committed a heinous atrocity. "…everything w-was normal…before I found that journal…I p-put everyone in danger b-because of ME…!"
"Dipper, I'm going to stop you right there," Ford said firmly, his hand tightening on Dipper's shoulder, just enough to get the boy's attention. "Listen to me, alright? Look at me." He waited until Dipper looked up, seeing with a haunting realization that this was what he saw in his reflection during his darkest days here, before he had called for Stanley to come thirty years ago.
Like he had caused all the problems in the world.
"…Dipper…this isn't your fault," he said. "If you blame yourself, if you blame the journals, then blame ME."
"What? NO, I didn't mean—"
"DIPPER." Ford closed his eyes, taking a calming breath. "…Dipper, I am under no illusions that everything I did was good and for unselfish intentions. I made stupid, arrogant, selfish mistakes…mistakes that almost caused the end of the world…mistakes that cost me thirty years of normalcy…mistakes that…cost me my brother. More than once."
He curled his other arm around Dipper, hugging the boy to him. "…Dipper, you don't have to put the blame on your shoulders," he said quietly. "…Stanley's…leaving…was set in stone thirty years ago, before you were even born. It had nothing to do with you." He swallowed hard. "…In fact…I would even bet that you made his summer here better than any he'd had for over forty years."
"…no…"
"Yes. I might've been a shortsighted idiot when I came back out of that portal, but I'd have to be completely blind not to see the joy you kids gave him. You and Mabel were the light of his life."
Dipper sniffled, shaking from fresh tears. "…that…just makes it hurt more…" he stammered. "…b…because I…I was so AWFUL to him sometimes…" He shut his eyes tightly. "I…thought so LITTLE of him sometimes…I even thought he was starting the portal up for something EVIL…I FOUGHT him, said HORRIBLE things…!"
"And he forgave you!" Ford patted Dipper's head comfortingly. "Anyone could see that. He understood, Dipper. He knew you were scared, he knew how bad it all looked. He didn't hold that against you. He loves you."
Dipper tucked his knees to his chest, hugging them. "…I…made him feel like I liked you…better than him…" He sniffled again, resting his head on his knees. "…'s not true…I swear, 's not true…"
Ford closed his eyes, feeling heavily drained. True, before, he'd had that black-and-white, 'Team Ford' vs 'Team Stan' mindset when it came to the niblings, but he wasn't as stupid now as he was then. Dipper had that blind hero-worship thing going on with him, but blindly-worshipped heroes didn't have laughs over breakfast, impromptu hugs (cleverly disguised as chokeholds), or sitting outside in comfortable silence watching the sunset over cans of soda.
Dipper may have bonded with him more, but it was obvious who Dipper felt more comfortable and at home with. Hell, it wasn't until Stanley left that Dipper began calling him 'Grunkle'.
Ford sighed quietly, shifting back and tugging back the covers of the bed, leaning Dipper down. He tucked the covers back over the boy before sitting back at the foot of the bed. "You need sleep," he told Dipper, who was looking all out of sorts. "Sleep in here for the rest of the summer if you need to. It's alright. We'll talk in the morning."
Dipper just took a deep breath and let it out, his body visibly deflating with physical and emotional exhaustion, his eyes fluttering shut. "…Night, Grunkle Stan…" he murmured, snuggling into the blankets that still smelled of pine oil and leather.
Ford gave Dipper a teary smile, waiting until he knew Dipper was asleep before quietly slipping out of the room, heading back to his own, practically collapsing on the couch. He took off his glasses and stared up at the ceiling for a while before reaching into his pocket and taking out Stanley's letter, not unfolding it, but rather resting it on his chest, wishing he had someone to tuck HIM in now.
He drifted off to sleep, being lulled by the sound of a gentle breeze rustling the leaves outside the cracked window, and the faint scent of pine oil and leather.
Stanley Pines, or that which used to be Stanley Pines, stood at the border of the forest, looking over the house in the clearing with a somber expression on his face, his conjured visage looking as old as it had when his physical form walked in the past new moon.
You still mourn for them, the voice of One said to him, sounding more like a single entity that walked beside him, rather than many eldritch voices at once as a whisper in his ear. He simply nodded, the half-moon glow in his eyes looking dull.
I do, he replied. I always will, just as you promised.
We take no pleasure in your pain, the One said. It will fade with time.
Stanley let out a soft scoff that held no humor, only bitterness and sadness. Not soon enough, he said. My family is in pain. Mabel fears abandonment. Dipper fears he didn't love me enough. And Stanford… He trailed off, closing his eyes. Mabel and Dipper will move on. They are young, with their lives ahead of them. Stanford will mourn me for what remains of his.
Such is the fate of those who make new regrets so late in life. But you still refuse to let him acknowledge you.
Stanley's hands tightened around the 8-ball of his cane. Even old dogs can learn new tricks, he replied. Mabel got her reassurance and comfort from Stanford, not from me. Same with Dipper. Stanford will learn that his worth isn't in his books or his mysteries, it's what he does for his family. If they can depend on each other, then my leaving will hurt less.
A wise decision, the One commended. But even you have to know that those three, knowing what they know about this place, and being who they are, will very likely follow your example. In one way or the other, and perhaps by some other being than We.
Stanley scowled. If you're referring to the yellow triangular asshole, then you can rest assured…
The moonlike glow in his eyes was almost blinding, the trees rustling almost violently in the wind, his scent almost permeating the air.
…I will know the agony of eternal damnation before I let him touch my family.
