Skip the A/Ns if you're just interested in the story.
A/N: Hello, everyone! It's me (Kata) back with another oneshot I had stuck in my mind and decided to finally jot down! Now, I'm not sure how to feel with particular fic as I think there might be some aspects I've missed while drafting it out that might need touching up. Nevertheless, I think it came out well and I had fun writing it anyway, so it's a win-win. Still, I hope you guys/gals share the same enthusiasm while reading it :) hey, maybe you can prove me wrong!
Also, I want to give a special thanks here to everyone who helped me reach a whopping 2,000 view s on my longfic! I hope this oneshot will make up for the absence of Chapter X (for now — I'm getting back on it ASAP!) and as a reward to all who surprised me with such a heartwarming gift for the two-year anniversary of that behemoth of a project!
Anyway, enough chit-chat! Without further ado, here is "A Look Way Up There"
Disclaimer: Story contains depictions of natural (I hope) fear responses and panic attacks. Read at your own discretion. I do not own Gravity Falls or these characters — everything belongs to Alex Hirsch.
He… he did it.
Finally.
Even from the absolute top of the Gravity Falls water tower — a structure which had nearly collapsed from the blow of whatever chaos had reigned below it only moments beforehand — Stan was alive and well. True, there were a few hiccups in his ascension up to that triumphant culmination of his endeavours, especially considering he hadn't actually found himself at said culmination of his own volition and had moreso been unceremoniously dragged there by Mabel (although he had expected her to trick him into following her from the start, so he at least had some credence in that regard). There was also the fact that only a few seconds prior, Stan had conveyed himself… far differently than usual. Whether his grip over the tower's safety rails had become nigh unshakeable, or his eyes had bulged to such an extent that he really wouldn't have been surprised if they'd come out of their sockets, it was no mystery that the usually level-headed businessman had been frightened out of what few wits he had left to guide him.
But that was in the past.
Now, Stan revelled in that exhilarating tingle in his spine and that distinct tremor of his hands — sensations born from both an unbridled joy and a now wavering trepidation. He felt so free, so clear, so powerful, even at such a menacing height. No more would the conman wince every time he had to resort to jarringly unorthodox measures to reach a spot higher than arm's length, no more would he have to painstakingly explain to Soos why he couldn't just observe him working from the roof when it was in need of repairs (he had almost always blamed the shine of the sun impeding his vision), and no more would his great-niece coerce him into displaying a slither of apprehension again — because Stanley Pines was at last cured of his crippling fear of heights. He strutted with immense pride, taking in his accomplishment to the fullest extent and taunting the world which had judged him oh-so wrongly (really, just pushing his luck given the whole situation). After experiencing the rush of victory diffuse, Stan decided he was ready to come down — of course, alongside the main instigator of his change in attitude.
For a moment, his eyes darted over to what lay ahead — the view of Gravity Falls was still a bit daunting and difficult to get used to (especially when shown in its vast entirety). Indeed, Stan had been burdened by unease no longer, but the same could not have been said about his attitude towards the small town from where he was situated.
Having quickly decided to gulp his superstitions away and not ruin the moment, Stanley began descending down the first of many steps of the ladder. He bobbed his head over to Mabel, who hadn't moved an inch. Her mien now seemed oddly bashful — too bashful for Stan's liking.
"What'sa matter, YOU got a fear of heights now?" He chuckled.
The preteen shook her head in a momentary fervour in an attempt to deny it. Her widened eyes told a different story.
Stan immediately put two and two together, realising the unintentional candour of his jab. "Uh-oh."
"I… I… I c-can't go," Mabel stuttered out, inching slightly forward but instantly recoiling back to the base of the tower after having laid eyes on the expanse below. "Nope, nope, nope… t-too scary."
Stan sighed, at first having felt surprised as to how the tables had turned; though any amiable bemusement quickly turned to ash, and his great-niece's plight proved too difficult to just brush off. "Um, Mabel, you alright?" He tightened his hold over the cold safety rail. "Want me to, uh, come up there?"
Mabel didn't respond, almost as if turned deaf by the swelling anxiety which had undoubtedly overtaken her. Stan now felt the pang of worry thrust at his heart — sure, he himself had kept a debilitating fear of heights hidden for a ludicrously long period of his life and his riddance of it was cause for the ecstasy which had otherwise overtaken him. Still... it seemed as if what he and Mabel had experienced on top of the tower had the exact adverse effect on the latter's perspective on the matter. The looming peril which had aided Stan in braving his phobia so inexplicably well seemed to have conversely shaken Mabel to her core. Worse, the conman was seeing just that revelation surface with the onset of what he immediately identified as a panic attack (he himself had had many before in his teen years). Truly, in lighter circumstances, Stan would laugh, he would joke at the irony of the entire situation and rub it in as much as he possibly could — but he could see that his Mabel was in utter emotional peril, and just the sight of her terrified expression was enough to send a chill up in his spine.
If not anything else, Stan knew how to help her — and he damn sure wasn't going to let an opportunity to save someone he cared about go to waste.
To an extent, Mabel understood why — why everything had turned out the way it did. She had made a mistake putting her nose where it didn't belong, yes; she had deserved reprimand for it, yes; maybe karma had finally come to collect, yes.
But being so high up still didn't sting any less.
In spite of her own pervading sense of sanctimony, Mabel was utterly repulsed at the prospect of having the obvious dramatic irony of her situation playing out here and now, of all places and all times; some other day, sure, but not when the paroxysm of fear guided her every flinch. Both the terrible, uncontrollable shaking and the dreadful knot in her stomach proved chillingly elusive in the wake of the moment. She didn't feel like the person she thought she was — didn't feel like Mabel — instead as if trapped in another body that only knew to conform to the whims of neurosis and other bodily spasms symptomatic of the ailment. Even if she took one step, moved one inch, she had the unwavering notion drilled in her mind that it would be her last. The girl felt so heavy, yet so light; so different as to experience the world sucking all air from her lungs, yet so trapped as to just never get enough to breathe.
"Okay, Mabel, just... try 'ta breathe, alright?" She saw Stan inching slightly closer. "Deep breaths — like this." He drew what looked to be a couple of long inhales and exhales to demonstrate, but their impact on her troubled mentality was close to void.
"G-Grunkle Stan," Mabel stuttered out as best she could, the dryness in her mouth and the shock of reality having drained all her vigour away. "I-I don't wanna come down..."
"It's gonna be okay, sweetie." He climbed back up to the top of the structure. "I'll just come 'ta get you and we'll climb down together."
"No! Can't go down! No way…" The howling gale which passed through only amplified the chatter of her teeth. "Just go… leave, p-please." Their eyes barely met.
"Mabel! Mabel, listen 'ta me. I know you're scared right now and you ain't thinkin' straight… and I really shouldn't be the person who should be try'na help you right now"—the tower shook slightly again, and Mabel let a small shriek escape her, while Stan braced himself with a few rattled breaths—"But sweetie, look at me — you're a Pines. More importantly, you're Mabel freakin' Pines: the sweetest, toughest, coolest girl I've ever known!" He pointed at her with a fiery determination. "And… and no one, no one has felt happier bein' with you this summer more than me, missy! So just lemme return the favor and get'cha back home."
Mabel froze, barely able to comprehend her great-uncle's words. They had almost passed her like a breeze, as the rest of his enticements — that was, until she had heard of her role in the story and the way she'd impacted him. Truthfully, she had no idea what had driven Stan to that strangely convincing speech, and especially no idea which odd part of him had decided to relay it to her of all people. Yet only after Mabel pondered upon its meaning did she realise how much she had needed to hear that encouragement. Just the fact that she was not doomed alone in the terrible strife she had driven herself to, that she had the one person who could make everything well again, and that she herself was strong enough to overcome the peril before her just because she was Mabel Pines — it meant something special for the girl.
"D-Don't drop me, Grunkle Stan… Please." Even at such an altitude, she felt her dry eyes wet with the crispness of fresh tears.
"I won't. Trust me."
Although what Mabel could only discern as a venomous voice inside her head desperately wanted to tell him to go away, she ignored it and returned a small nod.
"A'ight," Stan said with a reassuring smile. "I'm coming, pumpkin. Just hold on."
Mabel felt a huge weight lift from her shoulders upon receiving that confirmation. Even though she could barely feel anything beyond the momentary sensations hearkening to her primal instincts, what hopeful warmth welcomed her in lieu of the frigid stillness was enough to rekindle the fire in her heart and offer even the faintest smile which crept over her lips.
Because her grunkle — that same gruff but loveable old man she had endangered because of her stupid idea to drag them up at a water tower — was now coming to take her home. Thus was a harrowing bittersweetness which plagued her.
Out of the corner of her eye, Mabel caught a glimpse of Stan reaching closer and closer, almost within arm's reach. He was taking his time in approaching her carefully and deliberately, that much she could notice (especially given how out of character it was for him to act with a sense of calm and rationale). Even though the two weren't far apart at all, the girl felt seconds turn to minutes and minutes shift to hours as time itself became but a fleeting notion and slowed any movement down to a crawl. The serene fire inside her now began to fade away and the efforts of her great-uncle notwithstanding, Mabel was anchored back to the grim actuality of her situation — still shaking, still suffocating, still digging her nails at the hardened rim of the tower, clutching however much she could of the cold metal in search of some reprieve, and still writhing from within the cage of her own thoughts, the girl barely held on with a resolve she herself did not even know of.
In the midst of the raging chaos enveloping her mind, the only thing Mabel ever wondered was why she had to wait so long.
As she gawked at the seeming nothingness ahead asking herself that, the preteen suddenly felt a touch upon her shoulder — dazed, she broke her glance to see Stan wrapping his hands around her, pulling her away from the metal rind and into himself.
Mabel did not experience any emotion overcome her as she broke free from her shackles.
Not until she looked up for the first time and swept into Stan's hug.
Because strangely enough, now — just now — she was able to hear herself breathe and seep all her anxiety into the welcoming arms of the conman: her rescuer, her saviour, her seraphim. It was like finally moving after a lifetime of immobility; like finally speaking after a lifetime of silence; like finally feeling after a lifetime of apathy; like finally living after an eternity of nothing. Given all she'd experienced in the brief moment panic took over, to just touch someone and feel that connection was enough to flush out every worry, at last releasing all the pathos Mabel — the real Mabel — had kept locked inside in the form of a scared and quiet sob, one barely distinguishable from even a child's whimper.
"Shh… shh, sweetheart. Don't worry, 'sgonna be okay," Stan soothed as they held each other in an iron grip, Mabel feeling his hand gently brush over her wavy hair.
"I… I-I..." she choked out, still trembling — but now from the rush of relief. "I was so s-scared and alone, Grunkle Stan. I thought you… you'd leave me..."
"I know, pumpkin. It's alright now, I'm here. We're goin' home."
Stan and Mabel held each other, and there were no more supernatural entities or furious nature phenomena to disrupt them in their unbreakable embrace. All concepts in the vein of matter and time were rendered fictitious masquerades in the Pines' minds as even the eccentricities of Gravity Falls surrendered themselves to their ethereal display atop the water tower. For great-uncle and great-niece, the nature of love truly knew no bounds.
Mabel knew that the moment she realised it was just them and no one else in the eye of the storm.
After a brief lapse, having regained what parts of her composure she could and her woes having suffused into incoherent mumbles of a nature far from any relevance, Mabel felt Stan slowly loosening his hold over her. Her own head slumped slightly as she finally faced him again.
"Ya ready to go, Mabel?" he asked. She could note the sad delicacy in his eyes as he relayed those words to her, and it only made his question sting harder than it already had.
Exhausted, Mabel took one last glance at the setting sun from the elevation they were at and gave a timid nod, burying her face back in her great-uncle's suit and clinging to him with fierce devotion.
"Um, alright then..." Stan stammered, undoubtedly flummoxed from Mabel's clingy attitude. "Guess we're off."
She heard Stan rise with an audible grunt and watched as he readied himself at the apex of the water tower.
"Ya sure you're ready to go down?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
"Yes. I'm ready."
Stan sighed. "Alright, then."
At last, he took the first step and began descending from the imposing structure, the duo's grip almost welded to the plethora of red metal rods with an unshakeable determination. It didn't come as a surprise to Mabel that the first few steps Stan took were rather clunky and crude in execution as he attempted to get used to the proper manoeuvre (considering he held Mabel in one hand, his handicap was with reason). But despite that inconvenience, nothing else overcame the two for the first few minutes, allotting Mabel all the opportunity she could wish to ponder over the eerie silence which permeated the area.
As they were halfway down the ladder, another turbulent gust stampeded throughout the area, shaking the tower and earning a yelp from Mabel.
"Woah…!" Stan shouted, at first having been overwhelmed by the unnatural wind. He quickly reasserted his hold over the ladder and Mabel nonetheless. "D-Don't worry, sweetie, just a little wind rustlin' the tower."
"O-okay..." Mabel gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to give in to the tinge of fear still inside her, and heaved a sigh. "Let's go."
With that, they continued their descent over the ladder. Some more time fleeted away and, having achieved relative calm after the exhilarating accident which had impeded them a moment prior, Mabel found herself debating the general prudence of her past actions under the veil of Stan's protection. And out of that inner dialogue, past events having opposed foolish and incessant reasoning, arose one question for the young Pines which put into perspective her entire self-appraisal: How could she have allowed this — any of this — to transpire? It wasn't just the charade at the water tower that drilled at Mabel's mind, but also everything which had preceded it. Her thoughts went back to other events akin to it during and even before the summer — whether it was her insistence on altering time itself just to preserve Waddles and totally disregard her brother's wishes, her ignorance of his sound warnings about the literal cesspool of weirdness that turned out to be her first boyfriend, or the way she had betrayed Stan now, history was repeated far too often in Mabel's life. Just being reminded of those experiences was cause for a dreaded feeling to re-emerge from the recesses of the girl's heart — it was one she had kept locked behind tendrils of disdain and had rarely allowed herself to weave into existence because of the burden it carried on her.
Guilt.
For all her benignity and unrivalled sense of optimism (two qualities which she had often prided herself on perfecting in life), what now enveloped Mabel couldn't have been further from that idealistic figment of her personality. Only when she had really screwed up — as in 'legitimately anger her brother' screw up — and had time to reflect on her actions did a feeling like guilt ever come about. Each time it siphoned any semblance of her positivity, Mabel experienced a whirlwind of vicious ardour overcome her: the torrent of self-loathing, the searing brand of regret, and the inescapable volley of pure dread all came crashing down upon her at a time when she was most vulnerable. It was, in fact, the darker side of her so-called 'Sweatertown', where every form of fallacious escapism she had worked tirelessly to preserve shattered and she was left alone to atone for her mistakes.
That was… until they left. They always left, either after the twins forgave each other, or she forgot about them, or life just somehow went back to the way it was. In the end, there was no change and Mabel remained a constant — just a shooting star with an empty trajectory to guide her in the void of self-improvement.
So how?
How, then, could Stan have forgiven her despite everything she had put him through? Deep down, she wanted him to be angry, she wanted him to scold her and judge her, so she could at least know of her wrongdoings and maybe, just maybe, break from the terrible cycle and become better. But in all her aversion, in all her repugnance, in all her Mabel-ness, she just couldn't make him hate her.
And that was the worst feeling in the world. It was enough to keep the girl occupied and silent during the shorter half of the climb down.
Eventually, Mabel was shaken from her thoughts by the hard thump of Stan's short leap and the release of his hold over the ladder. Opening her eyes, the girl was welcomed not by the sight of puffy white clouds and a vast blue expanse, but rather a small clearing which lay below the construct. The guilt still weighed on her, very much so, but the sheer picturesque of the locale availed in suppressing it for a while. Broad evergreen groves, combed grass, and whimsical fireflies having appeared at the fall of dusk — it had never been as stunning for Mabel as the moment she had first laid eyes on it again. For a lapse, she simply stood in place, admiring the scenery she had taken for granted so much. It reminded her a lot of the view the water tower had offered — a view which was, all things considered, striking in its own magnificent right; truly striking enough to birth an ingenious idea inside the young girl's head...
"Uh… ya know you can let go'a me, right?" Stan said, shaking Mabel from her trance once more.
"O-oh, right." She hadn't realised she still held onto him and wasn't really experiencing sea level elevation to its truest extent. With a swift lurch, Mabel freed her hold over Stan and touched the surface beneath, shoes skidding against rough dirt. She turned to see him reaffixing his bow tie and padding the rugged part of his suit (the one she had used as leverage) with the same rigour she had usually known him for.
"Welp, that's another story I'mma annoy little kids with when I hit ninety and become senile." Stan looked over to Mabel, their gazes meeting as one. "You, uh... sure you're okay now, Mabel?"
"Yeah... I'm good." The girl wiped her eyes and sighed, unpleasant memories already flushing over her. "Thanks for going back, Grunkle Stan... I'm sorry I brought you up there and acted like such a baby." She could feel the heavy frown cascading her expression. "I dunno what came over me, but I promise I'll never do any'a that again."
"Hah, you kiddin' me? I had the time of my life on that tower!" he exclaimed. "Plus, now Stan Pines has one less thing to worry about!"
Mabel couldn't help but snicker at her uncle's bravado, reminding herself of what he had said about her while up high on the tower. She still couldn't make sense of the way Stan had supposedly perceived her and that uncertainty hung over her like a bad omen. Mabel was also not one comfortable with the prospect of just staying silent when something was on her mind, so with a rub of her arm, she asked, "Hey, didja really mean what you said back there? About… about me making you happier?"
Stan blinked, incredulity washing over his face for a moment. "W-well, y'know, that was just the altitude talkin'..." He let out a haphazard chuckle and stashed his hands in his pant pockets, a long frown enveloping his expression. "But… uh… look, kiddo; me, you, Dipper — we're all Pines and it don't take no genius to figure that out just by looking at us. And, well, bein' a Pines means we gotta lift each other up no matter what. I mean, I prolly should be angry at ya for bringing me up there and… and you and your brother should prolly be angry at me for a lotta other stuff. But even if we get on each other's nerves, we still stick together — 'cause we're family." Mabel could sense that his tone reflected a closeted sadness. "Trust me when I say not everyone gets to feel that kinda love."
Mabel, although having a portion of her own troubles slightly alleviated by an uncanny feeling of disbelief taking over following Stan's answer, found the courage to finally smile. She heard, she listened, and although she was confused… still understood.
"That's some real wise uncle stuff, Grunkle Stan."
His eyes suddenly widened, no doubt due to realising the 'nonsense' which had unintentionally escaped his mouth. "Oh yeah, well don't get used 'ta that shtick!" He shuddered. "Gives me chills just thinkin' I said that."
Mabel's smile now culminated into a toothy grin. "Whatever you say, ya old softie."
Stan raised his eyebrows. "Heh, yeah..." He snapped his fingers, shooting one at Mabel. "Oh, and I'm still totally makin' fun of all that when we have one'a those awkward family dinners someday."
"Pshhh, really, Grunkle Stan? Guess you'll also totally wanna have everyone hear about your good pals back in Colombia, too?" Mabel cocked a sly smirk. "Don't worry, I'll let them know!"
"Hey, I'll have ya know at least half of my current relatives that don't hate my guts know about Jorge and Rico! And they're… sorta fine with it!"
Mabel giggled. "Even mom and dad?"
"Take a wild guess, kid! I mean, who wouldn't let their children spend the summer with a charming conman who lives out in the woods and also has what's probably a seriously incriminating past?"
Mabel rubbed her chin in thought before answering, "Grandpa Shermie?"
"Eh, your grandpa's an even bigger kook than me! I remember when Ma told me about the time he wore a suit on his first date with your grandma. I mean, can you believe the guy?"
"But… you wear a suit everyday, Grunkle Stan. And you wore one when you went out with Lazy Suzan."
"True, kid — but I ain't sixteen. Can't say the same for the brainiac who waltzed in your parents' wedding with two monocles instead of his glasses, though."
Mabel snickered at her grandfather's supposed bouts of innate Pines family weirdness and Stan returned the heartfelt laugh, humorously declaring that he could go on if Mabel had wanted. Though even as she proposed to save those engaging tales for another time, the preteen could already sense the strange equilibrium she had reached in her proceedings for the first time since what had felt like an eternity up on that tower.
In truth, there weren't a lot of people who would have gone to the lengths Stan had crossed to save her; really, there was only one other person she could think of, and he warranted no mention for all he'd done for Mabel. But Stan's revelations made her realise why that was the case — the three of them were something special; more than that, they were family. So if they made each other happy in the end despite everything, then… then perhaps being selfish and dumb was okay sometimes, Mabel thought.
Yeah, that sounded good.
"Hey… can I hold your hand, Grunkle Stan?" she asked, a slight quiver in her voice. "I know I'm twelve and all, but… I just like it when I can hold someone I trust."
Stan gawked at her for a moment, as if taken aback by her request (or, more accurately, the revelation which followed suit). Nevertheless, he quickly recuperated from the momentary daze and chuckled under his breath, extending his palm to the short figure.
"Sure, pumpkin. Let's head back to the shack."
He really was a great great-uncle, Mabel mused while feeling the soft touch of his skin over her own.
And she'd make sure Stan would remember that, however long it took.
She already had just the right ingenious idea on how to go about it...
Apparently, people had called him Stanley Pines — or, during business hours, 'Mr Mystery' — and he headed a legitimate tourist attraction (which had sounded more like a scam to him) prior to some insane apocalypse which had allegedly nearly ravaged the entire world. Ironically, said apocalypse was successfully averted through a sacrifice of his own, causing what a supposed doppelganger of his described as 'temporal amnesia' in his state of mind. To say the entire scenario was weird would be a veritable understatement, especially considering 'Mr Mystery' was now seated next to what was also supposed to be his closest family while they recounted his past ventures (in the remains of his so-called 'house-turned-attraction', no less). He felt odd, out of place, but still sane enough to piece his origins from the stories he had been regaled with, memories firing up left and right.
"Can't forget about the time when you 'borrowed' that jerky from the diner and was arrested for violation of the sacred Gravity Falls law of jerky ownership!" the girl — Mabel — reminisced while digging through her Summer scrapbook. "And hey, this is the time you and me went up the water tower! Look, I even took a photo of Gravity Falls from up there!" She brought up the photograph in question, which, for all intents and purposes, was of respectable quality and did indeed seem to be shot from a significant height.
Her brother, having been seated down on the torn carpet, interjected with, "What? When was that?"
"Oh, that was just a Grunkle-Stan-Mabel thing, Dip-dop. You weren't there."
Right, Stan was his name and Dipper was Mabel's twin. He raised an eyebrow at the picture, grabbing it from Mabel. "Huh… alright, I remember that. But why'd I suddenly remember something 'bout having to come back up? And… a hug?"
"Well, that's 'cause I was kinda scared after I saw how high it really was." Mabel smiled, slightly reddening at the revelation. "And you saw that and brought me back down, Grunkle Stan." The others darted their collective gaze between the two, none of them uttering a word.
"Oh. Oh… yeah," Stan trailed off, a few synapses having fired in his brain, "but how'd ya get this?" He pointed to the photo. "I don't think you brought a camera with you."
"I went back there, silly!" She let out a sordid laugh and rubbed the back of her head. "It… it was a really special moment for me and I wanted to have something to remember it by, Grunkle Stan."
Stan looked at the picture again, his brain racing for answers towards the plethora of questions which had emerged following Mabel's explanation. He wondered: Why and how did she go back there after what had happened? What did she mean by the entire experience being a 'special moment' for her?
And why — for some inexplicable reason — did she want something to remember it by?
Remember… it... by?
Just then — in that single instant of the question peeving at him from every angle — it all came back to him. Stanley remembered everything: that horrified expression on her face, those weak stutters she had heaved out, the fresh tears which had streamed down her cheeks, and how the two had gone down together in the shroud of a placid dusk.
Mabel had trusted him with her life.
Maybe that's why she forgave him when he had lost Waddles.
Maybe that's why she watched every 'Ducktective' episode with an old codger like him.
Maybe that's why she always somehow found a way to brighten his each and every day, even when she didn't have to.
Maybe that's why she was the one who never gave up and, even in the face of pure hopelessness, found a way for him to piece the scattered fragments of his life.
And maybe that's why he got his brother back; why the person he had fought thirty gruelling years to save — with whom he would be spending what could be the remainder of his days with — was able to stand beside him now.
It was all because Mabel believed. Mabel believed that same sleazy, good-for-nothing conman who had cheated his way through thick and thin, who had risked the universe itself for personal gain had even just an inkling of good inside him; that there was more for him to amount to than just a screw-up.
And… she was right. For everything Stan had ever doubted her about, Mabel was right — he did become a better person, he did punch an interdimensional demon into nothingness, he did save the world and his family, and he did do something good for once in his godforsaken life.
Stanley found that feeling an impeccable one like no other. It was a sensation to live for, to keep him going; something worth the heaps of strife he had gone through and something worth the shackles his will had been bound to for so long.
"Grunkle Stan?" Mabel called, anchoring him back to reality. "Are you okay?" The rest of his family looked on with bemused glances.
"Um, yeah, sweetie..." Stan cleared his throat and continued, "sorry 'bout that. Just thought of this real good grunkle joke!"
"Uh-oh," Ford (now Stan recalled!) began, lifting his glasses up and pinching his eyes in evident exasperation. "When we were bringing back his memories, I had almost forgotten about having to jog his sense of humor back into existence."
"Can it, sixer! This is a great one, I'm sure the kids'll love it!"
The scientist only rolled his eyes as Stan opened with, "Alright, so there's this kid — really doesn't like school; my kinda guy. And then, one day, some guys decide enough's enough, they gotta get rid'a him — so there's a kidnapping at the school. Just like that, outta nothing, a kidnapping!" He motioned with his hands in an attempt to convey the shock of the 'twist'. "So guess who was the kidnapping by: his friend next'a him in class!" Stan watched as several eyebrows raised in confusion (no doubt due to the nature of his anecdote). "Yeah, I know... So, ya know what happened to him?"
"What?" Dipper inquired, a dubious tone in his voice.
"Eh, nothin' much. The kidnapping just woke up."
A dreary silence followed Stanley's punchline.
Dipper was already shaking his head in exasperation. "Kid-napping…" He let out a weak groan. "That's somehow the worst one yet! And that's really saying something..."
"Indeed, I am relatively certain that has to be the worst joke I have heard in the entire multiverse," Ford chimed in matter-of-factly, a smile having formed on his features. "But it's a joke only you could make, Stanley. Welcome back."
Stan cackled, fully aware of the subpar (at very best) quality of his drawn-out pun. "You betcha, Poindexters! I think it's high time for the world to know Stanley Pines is back in the biz!" He jolted from the comfort of his armchair and, upon doing so, immediately experienced the searing sting of pain flow like electricity through his backside, sending him back in the stool. "Ow. OW. I forgot I'm old. And fat." He rubbed the afflicted area in a soothing fashion.
"Don't forget about hairy too..." Dipper added with a chuckle.
"Hey, I might be pushin' seventy but that's actually a pretty small list'a issues to be rocking!" He crossed his arms. "I'm proud'a myself!"
"Really, Stanley?"
"Yeah... ya got me there."
Inciting a series of laughs from his family and furthering the discourse into another direction, Stanley relaxed as he spectated the conversation which followed suit between Dipper, Soos, and Ford regarding the elder twins' mixup with a robbery at a gadget store when they were young. As he watched the story unfold, Stan took some time to breathe from the excitement and truly relish it for what it was worth. There was something undoubtedly refreshing about having lost everything… only to live through gaining it all back again.
No further did that sentiment ring true than when Stan's musings were cut short and he glanced over to the source of the sudden brushing sensation he began feeling against his forearm, only to discover a timid Mabel who had snuggled up next to him in place of the usually invasive goat or pig. Forming a smile at the image and wrapping his precious niece in the comfort of his burly arm, the conman finally came to an important revelation as the two sat in silence, photo of the town in hand, and shifted through more of the scrapbook.
It really wasn't so scary to have seen everything way up there on the Gravity Falls water tower when he had shared the sight with someone he treasured so much.
Quite the contrary, actually.
It was... beautiful.