Putting this one out a little earlier than I was originally planning. Enjoy!
Unedited.
Reaching up to rub the back of his neck, Jones chewed on his lower lip for a moment, eyes shifting back from the Shack to them. After a long moment of obvious inner conflict, he sighed and stepped forward, extending his hand for a handshake. "Let me start over," he said, a serious expression crossed his face. "My name is the United States of America."
"Wait, wait, wait, you mean, like the country? Our country?" Dipper stared wide-eyed at the tall blond man standing in front of Great Uncle Ford. He didn't look like a . . . geographical region? A geopolitical power? Or did he? Was this what countries looked like? Was- was this a thing? A thing that all countries had?
There'd been nothing about living countries in the journals.
Jones- the United States of America- threw a knowing grin his way as Great Uncle Ford hesitantly clasped his hand. "You got it," he replied, absently giving the scientist's hand a quick, enthusiastic shake. They both took a small step back once the handshake was complete.
Dipper and Soos drifted closer to the others, eyes watching in fascination as the strange man spread his arms wide. "So!" His hands flew together in a loud clap. "You can call me America, or Alfred if there are others nearby." America wiggled his eyebrows. "I am personally letting you dudes in on one of the biggest secrets in the world: me! And my kind, I guess you can say."
"Dude, that's so cool!" Soos exclaimed.
"Totally is! And can I just say that it's because of rad dudes like you that I'm the most awesome and amazing country in the world? Because it's true." America beamed, looking both proud of them and of himself. "The others are all jerks or crazy or have, like, zero spine. Even Canada has moments where he's totally lame!"
"Others- other countries, you mean?" Ford's eyes were big as he frantically patted at his trenchcoat, digging for a journal, a scrap of paper, something to write on. And with. "How are you born? Is it tied to the formal ratification of a government or does it have more to do with the cultural-"
"Right, this is going to be one of those conversations, isn't it?" Sighing, Stan turned and took hold of Ford's arm, forcibly dragging his twin back towards the Shack. "Come on in," he called over his shoulder. "If this is happening, it'll be with my butt in my chair."
Several minutes later, the small group has assembled in the restored living room. Stan had thrown himself into his battered yellow armchair after tossing his jacket and bolo tie onto the coat rack at the backdoor. Soos leaned against the chair at his side, still wearing Stan's old ornate red fez. Dipper and Mabel sat on the floor in front of the armchair while Ford perched on the dinosaur skull side table, eyes glowing with palpable excitement as he waited with a pad of paper and pen at the ready. Facing them, standing in front of the TV, was the man calling himself America.
"Awesome," the blue eyed man breathed as he looked back at the Pines (and Soos). He rocked forward and back in his feet, bouncing with barely contained energy. "Okay, rundown. Word of warning, you're gonna be disappointed. Now, me, and others like me, are living personifications of countries. Rule of thumb is one per country, although there are outliers here and there. And in the US, at least, there's a personification for each state. All in all, though, we have no idea why we exist or where we come from or if there's something specific we're supposed to be doing. We just kinda appear and that's all any of us have been able to figure out."
"Fascinating," Ford muttered, pen flying over paper. "There are no records or lore concerning your origins?"
Shrugging, America replied, "Not that anyone's ever told me. I mean," he paused for a moment, hands on his hips and head tilted to the side. "Well, I'm on the young side for countries. Been independent for less than three hundred years and I only really remember a century or two before then. England and France are, like, a thousand years old. China's at least four thousand. Doesn't talk about the past much, though."
"Four thousand years old?" Ford's pen stopped mid-stroke and started pooling black ink as he stared at America with stunned eyes.
"Yeah, he's a total geezer. Doesn't look ancient at a glance, though." America bit the inside of his cheek as he took in the identical wide-eyed looks being cast his way. "We don't age like humans. Heck, I was pint-sized for over a century and didn't start growing until the colonies really started booming."
"Incredible," Ford muttered, returning to his notes. "I never encountered beings whose aging processing was tied to external forces before."
America nodded enthusiastically. "It's actually been driving the older nations nuts lately. Starting with me, all the younger countries like Australia and Germany have grown, by their standards, insanely fast. Only about a century from toddler to young adult. They're used to it taking centuries."
"Anyways," America continued. "My "official" job," here he used air quotes, "is working with the government and the Prez or PM in all the fancy running a government stuff. It gets weird during civil wars and revolutions but that's basically what we all do. We're handy to have around because we literally are the country. The people, the land, the cities." Here his eyes grew slightly distant. "We know every person, every group, and current running through the country. We are those people, those groups- even when they completely disagree."
"Yeesh, that sounds noisy," Stan muttered. He'd slouched back in his chair and had his arms folded behind his head, feigning indifference. "So what brings you to Gravity Falls? Don't you have some fancy control room you should be sitting in or a spy op to run somewhere?"
"You said you were here because of Weirdmageddon," Dipper added, forehead wrinkling as he thought back to the conversation outside. "Did- did the government notice? Do other people know?" More specifically, he thought to himself, did their parents know?
America didn't respond right away. His cheerful expression turned somber and the constant fidgeting stopped. "They know something happened. Not what or where specifically it occurred. There's not . . . I dunno, readings or reports or anything. But when a nation's living personification and one of the states are found having seizures, alarm bells go off."
Abandoning his notebook, Ford suddenly rose and stepped forward. "May I?" he asked softly, gesturing to America's hands.
"Sure." Offering his hands to the scientist, he started up again as Ford began to unwind the bandages. "Did a lot of damage to myself before anyone showed up. Normally, those would be all healed by now but my, uh, healing factor's been focusing on the neurological damage."
Ford hissed in quiet sympathy as the bandages came free. America hands and arms were a wreck. Several fingernails were missing and jagged cuts and tears crisscrossed his bruised flesh. Carefully, Ford rotated America's arms, eyes noticing what looked like slowly healing burns wrapped around his wrists. Ones that were quite similar to the marks Ford was hiding under his sweater.
"Torso's pretty beat up, too." America couldn't quite bring himself to meet any of their eyes. "Although that's mostly an echo effect from the event. These are primarily from accidentally tearing up an old, old wood floor while my brain misfired and sent my limbs thrashing."
Mabel suddenly appeared at Ford's shoulder. "I got the first aid kit," she whispered, distress crossing her face at the sight of America's injuries. Her hands tightened on the handle of what looked like a miniature steamer trunk.
"Needed to change the bandages anyways," America murmured. "These are the ones I snuck out of the hospital with." He grinned again but this time, they could see the hint of strain beneath it, a weight he'd been carrying for days and days.
Mabel took a deep breath and jutted out her chin. "Sit!" she ordered, pointing determinedly at the floor. While Ford helped the battered . . . nation? onto the floor, Mabel set down the case and popped open the metal latches. The top of the case hinged open with a soft creak, revealing a very thorough set of medical supplies.
Working together, Mabel and Ford set to work cleaning and rebandaging America's battered limbs. "Can you tell me more about the echo effect?" Ford asked as he applied several sparkly plasters to some of the smaller wounds.
"Mm, well, I'm a nation in human form," America started, perfectly relaxed as the twins worked. "Something goes down somewhere in my borders, I feel it, natural and artificial. Forest fires can cause hot flashes, military assaults and bombings cause a lot of damage. You should have seen England during the Blitzkrieg. He looked like he'd just barely survived some awful Lightning Brigade charge. "
"And Weirdmageddon?"
America's hands suddenly clenched, digging painfully into Ford's flesh and causing the scientist to grunt at the sudden pain. The roll of bandages Mabel had just passed him fell to the floor. The nation's body tightened as he hunched in on himself. After several moments, he relaxed, forcing his grip to loosen.
"Sorry. Thinking about that too much sort of makes my brain- stutter."
"I can imagine it's . . . disorienting . . . to have an alien dimension that ignores Euclidean space forcibly impose itself on you," Ford responded. He took a moment to check his own arms, his hands. Fortunately America's sudden iron grip (as tight as Bill's chains), hadn't caused any significant damage. He still had full motion in his joints and there was no loss of sensation in any of his fingers. Taking a deep breath, he reached down and picked the bandages up off the floor.
"That's actually why I came," America admitted as Ford returned to his work. "Normally, I just sort of mentally lean in to get information but with this…" his voice trailed off.
"Seizure."
"Boom." America nodding grimly. "I'm trying to avoid that happening again. It's really not fun. It's, like, the opposite of fun"
"I suppose it's only right you of all people learn the truth," Ford murmured with a soft sigh. Taping down the last bandage, he cast a quick look over America's hands and arms. "At least that's done. The rest, well, that will take some time."
"And I've already taken too much today," America responded. He gave Ford's work a quick once-over then grinned. "Thanks for this," he added, wiggling his fingers at the scientist.
The words and the gesture- Ford felt it again, stronger than before. It had been so faint earlier outside. He had barely noticed it. A sense of belonging, of boundless, conditionless love. He'd travelled the multiverse for thirty years and not once had he ever encountered someone, something, like the man sitting before him right now. Not there, and not even back home in Dimension 46'/.
"Wait, you're leaving?" Dipper's voice, speaking up suddenly from behind him, was startling. Turning, Ford found that his nephew had taken up his pad and continued taking notes on the strange being before them.
"Hey, I heard that you two are headed back home tomorrow," America replied. "Like your Great Uncle said, the, ah, events of the last week will take a lot of time to go over. I don't want to take up any more today than I have to. I've got a room at the Twin Bed Motel on the edge of town," he continued, looking first at Ford then at Stan. "If you decide you're still okay telling me about it, I'll be around." Pushing himself back up onto his feet, America twisted his back slightly as straightened up, carefully stretching sore muscles.
"I guess we'll call you in a day or two, then," Ford reluctantly agreed, pushing himself up after America with a soft groan as his own muscles twinged.
As America started for the door, Dipper thrust the pad of paper and pen at Ford and dashed after the living personification, Mabel close on his heels. "We'll show him out," Dipper called out over his shoulder.
"Be right back!" Mabel agreed. "So don't you guys go anywhere!"
Looking amused, America allowed the younger twins to lead him out the door and pull it closed behind them. Before he could step off the porch, however, Dipper grabbed the hem of his shirt.
"So, just to clarify, being, uh, the United States of America means you're, like, Big Government, right? Capital B, capital G?" he asked, a hint of nerves and excitement in his voice.
"Well, I suppose you could look at it that way," America agreed. Cocking his head to one side, he look from one twin to the other, waiting to see which of them would spill the beans first. It was clear they were plotting something.
"So, you'll probably hear all about it later but part of the leadup to the event was Grunkle Stan pretending to be Great Uncle Ford for thirty years."
"After faking his own death," Mabel added.
"So I was just wondering if, maybe…"
"You could undo all that? And make it so Grunkle Stan isn't banned from all those states anymore?"
America stared at them in surprise. Then, blinking rapidly, he gave his head a quick shake and mentally reviewed what they had just ask of him.
"I was going to write a letter to President Trembley but I have a feeling your way might be faster." Mabel looked quite pleased with herself.
"Wait, you two know about Trembley? How- what-"
"Long story. Um, another one," Dipper winced.
"He made me a Congressman!" Mabel exclaimed.
"And I guess if you want to hear all about it you'll just have to bring Grunkle Stan back from dead. You know, officially."
America burst out laughing. He laughed so hard, he fell against the door and couldn't straighten back up.
Grunkle Stan's voice suddenly floated from inside. "Kids, everything alright?"
"They're just blackmailing me with one of my deepest, darkest secrets," America called back, still laughing.
"Good work, niblings!"
"Kids, I don't think-" "Shut it, Ford!"
Shaking his head, America grinned at the younger Pines. "Alright, I'll see what I can do," he promised. "But now I really should go."
"Okay, good bye, Mr. United States!" Waving, Mabel and Dipper watched as America strolled through dirt lot, heading towards the street.
"He's nice," Mabel commented.
"Yup." Dipper elbowed his sister. "So, more scrapbook time with Grunkle Stan?"
"Definitely."