Things have been really hectic with school, and it's honestly a miracle I'm getting a chapter out today, especially because I wasted an hour last night writing a Ford and Mabel fluff oneshot ("That's What Family's For." You can find it on my page). As for those of you who have been requesting Mabel flashbacks of "the scary man," I hope this pacifies those a bit... I don't want to go into full-trauma (yet).
Enjoy.
"Hey, Mr. Pines," Soos called to his boss, stepping into the Mystery Shack gift shop and finding no one. "I'm here for work!"
When he received no reply he passed through the door reading "employees only," which led to Stan's actual house. "Hello?"
He heard Stan's voice from the kitchen. "Mabel, stay here for a minute, alright?" It was followed by a moment of silence and then he came into the hall. "You still want to see the kid?" he grunted at his handyman.
"Oh, yeah," Soos said enthusiastically. Having such a deep rooted desire for Stan to see him as a son made him eager to meet some of Stan's blood relatives and, he hoped with all his might, have them accept him. Baby steps.
"Well, come on in to the kitchen, then," Stan said, gesturing Soos inside. "But not too fast." He ducked out of the hall and Soos followed.
Soos had seen the girl only briefly the previous day, but he remembered her long brown hair and thin, pale frame. But mostly, he remembered the fear in her expression and then in her screams, and he went in cautiously in fear of eliciting a similar response.
Mabel was sitting at the kitchen table, knitting contentedly, with Stan watching carefully from his spot leaning against the fridge, ready to be there for emotional support if she snapped in a similar way that she had the previous day.
Mabel looked up when Soos entered, and while she shrank a little in her chair and a brief flash of fear flickered in her eyes, she didn't panic. Soos waved. "Hey there."
"Hi." Mabel spoke cautiously. Looking back down at her knitting and turning red with embarrassment, she said, "Sorry for the screaming."
"Nah, it's cool, Dude. Sorry for freaking you out," he accepted her apology willingly and grinned. "You look pretty okay to me now. What are you knitting there?"
"A sweater," Mabel informed him, the corners of her lips twitching up.
"Sweet. You're pretty good at that."
"I like knitting," she replied simply, and then almost as an afterthought mumbled, "It makes sense."
Stan cleared his throat, commanding attention. While the exchange between his niece and his handyman was going well, he didn't want to push it. "Soos, I've got some lightbulbs around the shack that need replacing. Get on it."
"Yes, sir, Mr. Pines, sir," Soos gave his boss a half salute and then turned to Mabel. "We cool, dawg?"
She smiled back. "We're cool."
"Awesome!" Soos beamed, holding up his hand. "High five!"
Of all the things to happen next, Stan didn't expect what did. He jolted as Mabel shrieked and scrambled out of her chair, sprinting to her Grunkle Stan and tugging desperately at his arms, whimpering. Her short and shallow breaths indicated she was about to have a panic attack. Soos recoiled, exclaiming frantic apologies at once. Stan held onto Mabel and groaned. He knew this had been a bad idea. "Light bulbs, Soos," he ordered tersely. "Now."
Looking miserable, Soos hurried out of the kitchen, mentally hitting himself for going for the high five. Why did he have to screw everything up?
Stan was trying to calm Mabel down before she had a full-blown hyperventilating fit, but he feared his attempts would turn out to be fruitless. She wasn't doing well, and her every breath lasted only a fraction of a second. "You can get through this, Kid. Breathe, okay? You're okay. You've got this. In and out, right? Inhale and exhale."
She tried taking in a larger breath of air than she was ready for and ended up choking on her inhalation, coughing something fierce, which only made her more upset and tipped her over the edge into a complete panic attack. She had thought, for just a brief moment, it was getting better. That the scary man was only going to make an appearance in her dreams. But she had seen him, seen the flash of his arm raising just before he hit or whipped her, instead of Stan's handyman raising his arm for a high-five.
It was awful. She felt like she was back in that closet, tied up and knowing the pain was coming but still praying it wouldn't. Her prayers never worked. She couldn't move, couldn't try to get away. When she was gagged she couldn't even scream. At least here she was free to run away and seek somewhere safe. Or someone safe. And since Dipper had gone out, Grunkle Stan was who she had.
Her uncle was helping a lot. She was very glad for his arms and his voice, giving her an anchor to hold onto instead of going spiraling into the horrific vortex of fear and darkness where she could hear the scary man's laughter and feel his abuse, never sure when it would come or where it would come from. She tried to do as Stan said, taking breaths in and out, but it was so difficult. Her breaths would hitch every few seconds and she'd fall apart all over again, trying to regain her composure.
"Listen to my voice, Mabel. Stay with me, okay? I need you to concentrate now. Do you feel this?" He was tracing a square on the skin of her shoulder with his finger. "When I trace up I want you to breathe in, okay? Don't let it out until I start tracing down. Just keep that up, okay? Up, in; down, out. Come on, Kid. You can do this."
It took her a few tries. The first time she breathed in and found herself unable to release it for fear she'd screw something up again before finally it escaped her and she was gulping frantically for breath again.
"Keep trying, Mabel. I believe in you," she heard her uncle comfort her, and so she tried again. And again. And again. Until finally, she got it right, and after that her breaths came easier. "You're doing good, sweetie," Stan assured her, tracing the square more slowly with every success until she started breathing normally again, keeping it up a few minutes longer just to be certain her attack had passed, mumbling encouragements.
At last Mabel wrapped her arms around him in a hug, and he returned the gesture. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting herself stay safe for just a few more moments. "There you go, Kid," Stan said, holding her a little tighter. He didn't think he'd ever felt as protective of anything as he did of Mabel. "I'm proud of you."
"I love you, Grunkle Stan," she mumbled into his chest, because she truly did, and she felt like the words needed to be said. She'd been empty and confused when Dipper brought her to this house, but Stan had made her feel important and treated her like she wasn't someone who was broken, unlike the police people who found her and the social worker who took her on and the doctor who looked her over. And even Dipper. Dipper had treated her like a little kid. But Stan had talked to her like a regular person. Stan had made things start to make sense again. And she loved him, not just for that but for everything that had happened since. It didn't feel like she'd spent only two days at the shack. It felt like so much longer.
When Stan released her she seemed fine again, though he felt different. She'd said she loved him. It had been a long time since he'd heard those words directed at him. He'd forgotten how nice those words were to hear. In ways, Mabel was probably doing as much good for him as he was for her.
Trying not to get too sentimental, Stan cleared his throat and changed the subject. "So, what do you want to do today, Kid?" he asked.
She went over to her knitting, which had fallen on the floor in her scramble for her uncle after the scare, and smiled up at him as she started it up again. "Just this."
Stan should have guessed. "Didn't you want to shower?"
She looked slightly taken aback, like she'd forgotten she'd made that request. But she nodded, going back to the table and picking up the bundle of clothes she'd brought downstairs from the chair next to the one she'd been sitting in. "Let's get that going, then," Stan said, leading her out of the room and into his bathroom. "The controls are tricky," he informed her, showing her the hot and cold knobs. "The wiring's screwy. Cold is hot, and hot is cold. The cold knob sticks a bit, too; just yank it good and it should give. Any questions?"
Mabel shook her head.
"Alright. Good. Don't flood the room," Stan said, heading for the door and pausing before he went through it. "Your brother should be back soon. Just set up shop in the living room and I'll come check on you in a bit." On that note, he shut the door behind him and went to find Soos. As distant as he usually tried to act with his handyman, the poor guy deserved another explanation.
As soon as Stan shut the door Mabel yanked on the cold water knob, powering through the stick her uncle had warned her about to elicit a stream of hot water, and adjusted the hot water knob to cool the temperature of the water coming from the shower head to her liking. She hadn't had a hot shower in seven years. Usually the scary man just dragged her into the bathroom and threw her into the tub, spraying her with blasts of freezing cold water and counting those as her showers, and she dreaded every moment of that ritual.
She crawled into the tub and stood beneath the water, breathing a long sigh of satisfaction. She had been certain she'd never feel the sensation of a hot shower again. She couldn't stand for very long, though, on her weak legs, so after a few minutes she sat, enjoying the feeling on its own before she looked around. It had been a long time since she'd had a real shower, yes, but she still remembered the fundamentals. Shampoo, conditioner, soap. She found the soap easily enough, but was quite baffled for a few moments because she couldn't find anything else before she peered at the floor next to the tub and found a bottle of nearly empty 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner.
The actual bathing portion of her shower lasted only a couple minutes. Kneading shampoo into her scalp felt odd after seven years, but certainly not unpleasant. Afterwards she sat in the tub, enjoying the hot water until it ran out, and she squealed and shut it off, having no desire to experience jets of cold water again in her lifetime.
She got dressed quickly, getting tangled up again in the sleeves of her sweater when she put it on, and left the bathroom with her hair still dripping wet and her skin flushed, but extremely satisfied.
Stan had gone to check on her when she was fifteen minutes in and been surprised to hear her still in the bathroom. But then, he figured, she most likely hadn't had the luxury of showering in years, so he'd let her have her moment. Dipper had returned to the shack not long after, but he'd disappeared upstairs without as much as a hello.
Another twenty minutes later when Mabel still wasn't out of the bathroom, Stan knew he was going to have to talk to his niece. So he sat in his armchair and waited. When he finally heard the water shut off, the shower had been running for forty minutes. Mabel came into the living room, looking very happy, a few minutes later. Stan hated to lecture her when she was in such a good mood, but he knew it was necessary.
"Mabel," he started slowly, careful to choose his words. He didn't want her upset. He only wanted her to be a little more aware, that's all. She looked up at him, and his resolve almost melted to see the contentment in her eyes. He cleared his throat and continued. "I get that it must have been nice to have a shower, but you can't sit in there for forty minutes, alright?"
Her grin was already wavering, but she didn't look upset. She tilted her head inquisitively. Stan sighed. "I can't afford for the water bill to run up a whole lot more than what it is now, okay, Kid? So you got a get out of jail free pass for today, but in the future keep the showers to five or ten minutes. Alright?"
Mabel pursed her lips. She hadn't thought about that at all. She forgot that everything cost money, even water. She had gotten carried away, and she knew it. "Sorry," she mumbled, feeling terrible.
Stan patted her head. "Hey, stop being so sad," he told her. "I told you, you got a get out of jail free card today. Also, if you're feeling up to it, uh… Soos would like another word."
Mabel cringed. Another thing to feel awful about: scaring her uncle's handyman with her episodes two days in a row. "Okay," she mumbled, collapsing into Stan's armchair and picking up her knitting.
Stan disappeared for a minute to retrieve Soos, and Mabel sighed. She certainly was doing an awful lot of things wrong lately. She could only hope she wouldn't get any more horrifying flashes of the scary man and frighten Soos a third time.
It seemed the third time was the charm for Soos and Mabel. He came into the living room after Stan with his hands behind his back, very careful not to move his arms too much, and apologized again for freaking her out, to which she apologized for scaring him, and they at last reconciled. Stan didn't give them time to converse once the whole thing was sorted out; he was too wary of something else triggering a strong negative response in his niece, so he sent Soos to try and figure out the screwy wiring in the bathroom, making sure Mabel would be okay on her own for a while before heading into the gift shop, donning his eyepatch on the way, and preparing the first group of tourists for his Mystery Tour.
In which Stan demonstrates the (mostly) proper way to deal with a person having a panic attack. The "panic square" is something a friend used to do for me, and it really helps. Expect more of Dipper next chapter; I just really wanted to get some Stan and Mabel comfort fluff out of my system.
If you have time, I'd love your reviews.
Watch for chapter 12 and thanks for reading!