Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.

Dipper woke, heaving for breath, as he tried desperately to suppress the urge to hyperventilate. Oh, god, that was horrible. He needed to calm his breathing though. In, out. In, out. In, out. Out, in. Out, in. Out, in. He lay there, soothing his aching lungs with the breathing technique. His dream had caused this. Or it seemed to be more of a night terror. What was it even about? Oh. It was that. Dipper observed the morning light stream lazily through the triangle window by his bed. He frowned. A triangle? How had he never noticed that? A triangle just like B- He heard the distant arguing of Grunkle Stan and Wendy coming from downstairs. She must of came in late, again. He assumed it must of been around opening time. The chatter fully eased the anxiety and near panic attack soothed away. They could make him feel safe, even at the worse of times.

Nightmares were a constant for Dipper. They had been his whole life (or at least as early as he could remember). The night terrors were a variety, ranging anywhere between getting the fear of a test, to the monsters in Gravity Falls murdering him. Since coming to Gravity Falls, he hadn't gotten so worked up about the now few dreams, but lately they had been getting worse, just like before he came here. He had even heaved into the toilet the other night, due to a partially bad one about Bill Cipher being back in his body. Thankfully, he wasn't alone though, as his sister sat with him, rubbing soothing circles on his back. She always knew what to do to make her brother feel better. Dipper hadn't any clue what he would do without her. Last night wasn't the dreaded triangle demon though. It was actually what he hadn't thought of for half of the summer. That is, of course, until now. Lingering on it would work him up, again, so he thought on different subjects, like why exactly his clock actually read 11:51 AM, instead of around 7 AM, when the shop opened. Why was he waking when it was nearly noon?

The brunet realized he felt completely exhausted, even though he had slept for hours. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Dipper just about laid back down, intending on sleeping more, but he knew it was way past the time he usually got up around. He stumbled sluggishly to the dresser, near Mabel's bed, and began to rummage through the top drawer, searching for that day's clothes. He decided to to dress differently than he typically did, opting for a forest green t-shirt and dark shorts, but still retained his signature trucker hat. After dressing, he made his way downstairs and into the empty kitchen. Dipper could now hear bits of what Wendy was saying to the noisy tourists. He found a carton of milk, a strangely bent spoon, a red plastic bowl, and a box of his favorite cereal. Dipper poured his bowl of "Overly Sensitive Owl" cereal and inspected it. Suddenly, the overly bright colors made his stomach lurch and he placed a hand over his mouth, attempting to steady his upset stomach and now labored panting. That dream had really thrown him out of whack. He couldn't handle eating anything right then. The cereal ended up dumped into the kitchen sink. Dipper desperately needed Mabel.

He headed out to the store, to see it busy as per usual, with a lengthy line of customers hoping to buy some gimmicky item Stanford Pines had constructed out of scraps from the dump. Wendy was taking her sweet old time, flipping through a magazine with one hand, while the other placed the money from customers into the cash register. "W-Wendy, have you seen Mabel?"

"I think she's outside with Stan!" Wendy called back, without even glancing up.

Usually, Dipper would try to talk more to the teen he had a crush on, but Dipper just wanted to find his sister. His anxiety wasn't settling down. There was a discernible tremble running through his body and his breathing was shallower than usual. That usually meant that a panic attack was on its way. Dipper needed to find his sister before it hit. He went outside to discover Stan weaving tales about Gravity Falls to a couple of tourists. Mabel wasn't around. Dipper needed to ask his great-uncle where his sister was, but the man was only half-way through his rehearsed lies. If he interrupted it might cause the potential customers to leave and make Grunkle Stan angry with him. Dipper fidgeted as he scanned the outside, from his place behind the screen door. She was nowhere to be seen. He accidentally released a choked whimper of distress. He hoped that the whimper wasn't loud, or this would become humiliating. His eyes widened when, when his great-uncle ceased speaking and turned around to spot him. Oh man, Stan was so going to mock him now for making that wimpy sound.

Stan had heard the odd whimper, turning to reveal it was Dipper that produced the noise. He began to grin, intending to mock the preteen, but imminently dismissed the idea when he studied him. Even though the screen door made things difficult for him to see through, he could tell that it was his great-nephew was immensely upset. He hadn't been aware that the kid was there, until Stan heard what strangely sounded like a whine. This wasn't the usual type of upset though, where Dipper was simply complaining about what stupid thing Mabel had done this time or how hard summer vacation had been for him. Stan always rolled his eyes at those moments, wondering how the preteen had even survived at home. Evidently though, this was completely different sort of upset. He had instantly felt a bit of worry pool in his heart. Completely ignoring the potential customers for once, he went over to the screen door and pulled it open. The elder man removed his fake eye patch, shoving it in his pocket, to get a better look at his great-nephew. Dipper was pale as a ghost and looked a bit surprised about his presence. This was actually important that meant. He released a sigh and grasped Dipper's thin arm with his thick hand. Dipper's surprise increased, as Stan pulled him into the Mystery Shack. They went past the lengthy line of customers and a distracted Wendy, into the hallway separating the shop from the living quarters. Dipper appeared even more frightened by this point. Stan knew what part of the reason was.

"Kid, I ain't mad at you. I just wanna know why you look like somebody died?"

Dipper began to release speedy breathes by this point, but managed to ask in between them. "W-Where's M-Mabel?"

"...That's it? God, you scared me, kid! I thought you were gonna say something like you found some dead body. I don't know where she is," Stan replied. A frown made way to his face. "Ugh, I lost some potential customers cause of this!"

Much to Stan's surprise, Dipper abruptly dashed out of the hall. Stan face-palmed after a moment. "Ugh, its probably something more."

Stan made his into the living room area, realizing Dipper wasn't there. He groaned. The kid had to go upstairs. He hated the stairs, they always made his joints hurt. Stan frowned. How did the hell did he climb a freakin' water tower, take on an army of zombies, and attack a pterodactyl, but only ached when he climbed the stairs? He shrugged after a moment and proceeded up to the twins' room. Stan intended to get down to the bottom of this (and maybe even apologize for blaming Dipper about the loss of customers if he was feeling generous). What he didn't expect though, was to discover his great-nephew, curled up on Mabel's bed, hyperventilating. Stan felt this was a bit of an overreaction, but then felt bad about yelling at the kid like that. He was even clinging onto his sister's pillow, as if it was a substitute for Mabel herself. Stan cursed, not caring about watching his language around Dipper at the moment.

Stan perched himself on the edge of the bed, knee joints creaking in protest. "Kid...Look, uh, don't tell anyone, but I'm, uh... sor... sor... sorrrrrrr... sorrrrrrrrrrr... Augh! I can't even say it. Look, I didn't mean it was your fault and...you ok?"

Dipper was staring blankly at him and squeezing the pillow tighter, trembling violently. Stan rubbed his neck uncomfortably, having no idea what was wrong. Was he truly that upset about the comment he made about the customers? It was honestly frightening him. "Uh, w-why are you doing that?" Still no reply. "Kid, I'm g-gonna, uh leave if you don't tell me why you look like you're having a panic attack, so say something!"

Dipper viciously nodded, throwing Stan completely off. "Wait, you are having a panic attack?"

Dipper didn't answer, which was enough of an answer in itself. "Ah, shit. Uh, well I'm not sure what to do?"

Stan fidgeted, feeling increasingly uncomfortable by this predicament. "Uh, what...what, uh, do you want me to do?"

Half of Dipper was floored at how willingly Stan wanted to help. The other half was screaming as memories of last night's dream drowned his mind. His mind was bouncing back and forth liked a pinball at the moment, causing it to be difficult to think properly. Dipper couldn't even formulate words right now due to how chaotic his mind was and how erratic his breathing was. So, he did the only thing he thought that would convey what he wanted in that moment. He uncurled himself from around the pillow, and reached a trembling hand out to take hold of Stan's sleeve. His great-uncle nearly gawked as he realized Dipper wanted comfort from him of all people. "Uh, look, I ain't too good at all that mushy comforting stuff and besides why would you wa-"

He ceased speaking as he realized Dipper was beginning to place a death grip on his arm. "Ok, ok, fine! But, don't say I didn't warn you!"

Stan used the heels of his feet to slip off his shoes. He then swung his achy legs up onto the bed, and scooted over to sit against the wall, next to his distressed great-nephew. Dipper immediately curled up into his side and Stan stiffened. He had no idea what possessed him to go through with this. He had never been any good at comforting people. He recalled once in his freshman year, around when he first started to date Carla McCorkle, her dog Corkie had to be put down. Corkie had finally gotten to the ripe, old age of 14, but had to be let go due to his chronic aches and pains. Honestly, Stan was skittish around dogs, reminiscing on all his run-ins with those junkyard ones in New Jersey as a boy. A shortcut to his elementary school had been through that junkyard and he shuddered at the memories of what those dogs had done to him. He never informed Carla of this though, afraid she would stop dating him since he didn't like them all that much. When she had come crying about it to him though, he had to awkwardly stand there while Carla clung to him, eyes full of tears. Stan had quickly come up a moving speech about how much he would "miss the little fella". Being too consumed in her grief, Carla was none the wiser that he was making it all up. Stan was used to dishonesty and fraud, not sympathy and comfort. This situation with Dipper though, was a bit different. He was fairly certain that his great-nephew would notice he was lying if he told him a false story full of no emotion.

"Uh, uh, there, there?" He told Dipper, patting his back. Stan had witnessed this technique a couple in times in those sappy romance movies (not that he watched them). He wasn't sure if this the correct way to comfort, since it was from a movie, but felt successful when he heard a laugh in between the preteen's heaving breathes. "You better not be laughing at me, kid."

He felt Dipper shake his head in his side, denying that he was. Stan could feel the brunet's whole frame shaking though and was beginning to get even more worried since he wouldn't quit all that hyperventilating. "Dipper, what else do you want me to do? You're...you're wheezing is kinda worrying me, kid."

Dipper thought he was astounded before, but was now beyond that. Stan wanted to actually do something to ease he suffering? His chocolate eyes stared into Grunkle Stan's uneasy ones, realizing that he truly wanted to help him get through this. With this thought in mind, he was able to hoarsely rasp the solution in-between breaths. "Talk."

Stan mused on that answer. He was aware that one of his strong suits was talking, as long as it didn't involve comforting with words. Stan had this incredible ability to narrate tales in such a way, that he could effortlessly entertain his audience. He was confident that he could do this. What to recount to Dipper though? Well, how about that time when he went to the bank and tricked that clerk int-wait, don't want Dipper to steal his great ideas. Or how about that time after Carla left him for that hippie, he had found those two women at that one club and convinced them to have a thr-hell no, the kid was too much of a wimp to hear the epic conquest he had that night. Well what about that time in Mexico when-Perfect. And so, he rambled on to the preteen next to him, recounting a story about the time he was nearly arrested by crossing the border from Mexico to the U.S., illegally carrying several South American fish with him, and the car chase that had occurred due to that.

~!6-5-1-18/9-19/8-5-18-5!~

Mabel, on the other hand, was discovering one of the most massive mysteries to secretly haunt Gravity Falls, for the span of nearly four decades.

End Chapter 1

Don't worry, I'll be bringing up what those eerie sights and sounds were pretty soon. I just wanted to convey that Dipper is having some serious emotional issues at the moment and for Stan to realize it. It will be more Mabel centered next chapter!