Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.

Mabel felt such a crippling wave of guilt encompass her, that her knees nearly gave out below her from the force of it. Her Grunkle Stan no longer stood before her and she briefly wondered when that had occurred. She had recollection of hearing garbled words from him, recognizing the timbre of his voice, but hadn't comprehended what was spoken. She was in too much of daze at the realization of what had been done merely minutes ago. Mabel couldn't even believe she told Dipper what had been said earlier, much less in front of the teenager he had a crush on. She staggered into the hall separating the shop from the living quarters and stumbled into a table sitting against the wall. Mabel distantly thought about her leg probably having a bruise on it later, but then realized she didn't care in the slightest. She rigidly gripped the sides of it to steady herself. Her hands were trembling though, causing it to become difficult to get a proper grip.

The lighting was subdued in this hallway, with the only source of it from the door leading to the shop, being slighting cracked open. Mabel could see the barest outline of her face though, on the vintage mirror set up above the table. She stared her reflection in the eyes and felt self-loathing well-up inside her very soul. One would think she was completely overacting, since this was a problem that could be easily fixed, but she feared it wouldn't turn out to be all that fixable in the end. She knew she screwed up significantly and was concerned with thoughts of what her brother would do all alone in the forest. The self-loathing increased full force and Mabel thought back on a day similar to this. She thought back to a year ago, back at her home in Piedmont. It had been a fairly typical day, at the beginning of the 6th grade. The twins had rode the bus, as per usual, to get to school. Mabel had stayed after school for art club that day though, while Dipper rode the bus back home. If she wasn't so absorbed in herself and her stupid after school activities, she would of realized that that event would have occurred. Mabel would of realized that she would have come home to discover that h-

She flinched at the realization that she was no longer alone and that her reflection was not of her own. In the mirror, was the handsome man from the mysteriously hidden room. This time though, he held one of those washable blue Crayola markers in his right hand. A perturbed look crossed his face as he began to write across the mirror. "Are you alright?"

Mabel nodded fervently, a forced smile plastered to her face as she did so. The man appeared unconvinced as her smile lacked the usual spark in it and she knew that it did."I'm ok, I was just thinking about something...I'm sorry I didn't come yesterday."

The man still was evidently not convinced about the first half of the statement, but decided to move on when it was clear that she would not elaborate any further. He swiped across the mirror with a ratty wash cloth, erasing his previous message. "That's alright. You said you would come see me again, and now I have instead."

The smile was genuine now, the spark returned to it. "This sounds like one of those romantic reunion movies!"

The man laughed silently at her and lifted his left hand to reveal a ring on his finger. "First of all, you're too young for me. Secondly, I'm married."

"OMG, is there a mirror lady?!"

"No, no, there isn't. I'm not sure why you're so keen on this 'mirror people' idea. I don't actually live in the mirror."

"Well, yo-" Mabel cut herself off as she read what he wrote.

"I'm actually stuck in-between two worlds in a way."

She tilted her head. "...Whattttt?"

"I'll explain. Do you know Alice in Wonderland?"

"Yeah! It's that one movie where the girl goes to Wonderland and all those weird things happen to her. I love that one!"

"Yes, well that is the best way to explain my situation right now. In a way, I'm stuck in the 'rabbit hole' leading to Wonderland. Half way to that fantasy land and have way in reality."

Mabel thought on that. It made perfect sense to her. "So, you're just...stuck?"

His reflection nodded. A thought occurred to her though, sending a shiver down her spine. "...a-are you a...ghost?"

He frowned. "I don't think so."

He didn't think so? He wasn't even fully aware if he was alive or dead. What if he wasn't alive? Stuck between the land of the living and the land of the dead, never to escape his fate. Mabel began to feel a cold sweat break out on her skin. This wouldn't be the first time this had happened to her. It happened more regularly than she would care to admit. She wasn't even sure why she was surprised by this point though. After all, Mabel had always been able to see things that no one else was able to. Her breath ceased as her heart skipped a beat. This was not good. This was not good at all. She needed to get out of there right now. A smile was tensely plastered onto her face. "I s-should go."

He was able to see straight through her though and she knew it. "You're afraid."

Mabel cringed. He frowned and began to write more. "There isn't any reason to be. I'm positive that I'm not a ghost."

Her heart was thudding and she felt that he could hear it due to how loud it was. That's exactly what ghosts have claimed in the past to her. She needed to get out of here right now. Mabel couldn't even leave though; she was paralyzed by a mounting fright. The man attentively studied her, before asking. "How are you related to Stanford?"

"I-I-"

"Please, just tell me, I'm not here to cause any harm. I can see that you and your brother are related to him though, since you look similar to how he looked as a kid."

Mabel was trembling, unsure if she should answer. There was the fear though that he would grow angry and hurt her if she didn't. That wouldn't be a first either. "I...I'm his g-great-niece."

He gave her a startled look, causing Mabel to nearly release a whimper. "Is Alexander Pines your father?"

Her stomach dropped as she registered the question. "How d-did y-you know t-that?"

He appeared hesitant for but a moment, before confidently continuing on. "I wasn't sure if I could completely trust you, but I'm certain that I can now. My name is Stanley Pines Jr. Your father is my son."

"S-Son?"

"Yes. I guess in other words, I'm, well, your grandfather."

Mabel's tense smile grew, until her cheeks hurt. Grandfather? Grandfather? GRANDFATHER? She then promptly passed out.

"Well, this is problematic."

~!20-23-9-14-19/18-21-14/9-14/16-1-9-18-19!~

Gideon Gleeful and Dipper Pines stared at each other. Dipper stood there, cradling his injured arm, hat missing from his head. He momentarily wondered when he had lost it, but quickly dismissed the thought from his head when he focused once more on him. Gideon was curled into a ball, knees to chest. His pudgy arms were tucked against his chest, hands curled around each other, as if holding something there protectively. His cheeks had splotches of red, eyes puffy from crying. His eyes. They were a deep, cobalt blue. Weren't they usually a lighter color than that? Tears drizzling down his freckled face. His normally perfect hair was lopsided and had stray pieces sticking out in every which direction. Overall, he didn't appear as the usually creepy little boy that Dipper had grown accustomed to. He wasn't sure if this surprised him more or if the fact that Gideon wasn't in jail at the moment like he was supposed to be was. Dipper was going to ask about that, he truly was. Instead though, his question came out as something different.

"Is this the part were you try to kill me again?" Dipper received no answer though, as the distant voice of Stan calling for Dipper interrupted them. He sounded desperate, startling Dipper. He whirled around, searching for the man, but to no avail. The forest was all too dense to locate the elder man. He turned back when he heard underbrush crunching, to see that Gideon was gone. The brunet froze. It was almost like the 10-year-old had never been there in the first place. Dipper sucked in a shuddering breath, pushing down the rising panic. He could not have an attack here. There was no need to overreact about simply imagining someone being there with him. Dipper nearly screamed when he thought that statement. He did not see things! That was Mabel and no one else!...He only occasionally heard things in the darkness of the night, lurking in the back of hi-

"Dipper?" Stan was now gripping his shoulders and staring down at him. When did Grunkle Stan get here? The brunet thought he sounded worried, but his appearance screamed to him that he was more pissed off than anything.

"G-Grunkl-" Dipper began, but was interrupted.

"What the hell happened to your arm?"

Dipper gazed down at it and realized it was still bleeding. It actually appeared to be worse than before. The whole side of his forearm was scratched to high hell and both of his hands stung from the various cuts scattered across them. It didn't help that his knees were skidded up as well from the fall. He frowned. That couldn't be good. He might have to go to the hospital for his elbow. Just like after Mabel's silly sock opera, he had to go to the hospital to have his stab wounds from the forks sewn up. This time though, he wouldn't have to lie about where the bruises and other marks came from. He wouldn't have to squash down the guilt that he was the cause of the suspicious looks from the medical officials given to Stan. He wouldn't have to adamantly lie, so that Stan wouldn't be accused of abuse and they would be sent back home to Piedmont. "I-I tripped."

Stan narrowed his eyes at the 13-year-old. When Stan had to take Dipper to the hospital after that sock puppet opera Mabel had conducted, he was skeptical about the whole situation. He understood that most of the bruises likely came from that fall the twins had had. Mabel had to be checked over as well, revealing some bruising from her fall. Stan assumed that Dipper naturally had more bruising, due to him hitting the stage first. That was completely understandable. What wasn't understandable though, were the stab marks. Dipper claimed, when the nurse questioned him, that some wood pierced his skin when he hit the stage. Stan immediately picked up on the lie though. He wasn't a conman without reason. After avoiding the suspicious questions and Dipper being stitched up, he had asked him about it in the car. The preteen had simply repeated the claim though and Stan had eyed Mabel as he did so. She had been frowning. Stan knew then that his suspicions were right, due to Dipper's sister detecting it as well. He could tell that Dipper knew what he was thinking at the moment though. "I-I'm not lying. I tripped over a root."

Stan decided now was not the time to decide how truthful he was being, as it was more important to assess his injuries. "Kid, how long has that been bleeding?"

Dipper shrugged, not knowing precisely how long he had sat on that log. The elder man delicately took Dipper's arm into his hands. The brunet cringed as Stan inspected it. The elder sighed. "You're gonna need stitches on your elbow it looks like...You and your sister cost a lot of money, you know."

"At least I don't waste the tip jar money to buy a bunch of socks and wood for a musical."

"That's where all the money in there has been going?!"

Dipper laughed, feeling more like himself again. "She said she asked you and that it was ok."

"Well, that's just something more I have to talk to her about when I return!"

Dipper laughing unexpectedly came to a halt. The nervousness had returned. "...Grunkle Stan?"

Stan was now inspecting Dipper's left hand. "What?"

"Mabel said...some...things back at the Shack."

He was rotating Dipper's hand to see if the bones in his wrist were alright. "Yeah, like what?"

"Like...that she told you about my...a-anxiety."

Stan took the preteen's other hand and began to do the same thing. "...Yeah, kid, she did."

"Oh..."

Stan squatted down after a moment, joints creaking, and preceded to prod the injured knees. Dipper observed the top of Stan's head, waiting to see if he would say anything more about the that. He didn't though. Dipper wasn't able to hold it in anymore, blurting out his next statement. "She also said that you said that I'm 'retarded'!"

Stan ceased his prodding and tenderly stood, patting the dirt from his trousers. This was delicate terrain and if he wasn't careful, this could blow up in his face. "Kid, you like history, don't you?"

Dipper wasn't sure where this was going, but he nodded anyway. Stan continued on. "Have you ever seen one of those old coots that complain about black people?"

Dipper nodded in reply. Stan decided this was in fact the right way to go about this. "You know they're like that, because everyone back in their day thought that black people weren't any good, right?"

"Yeah, that's what my teachers have said."

"Well, I was like that. Well, not exactly racist, but some...other things." Stan informed him.

Dipper appeared to be uncomfortable at this statement. "W-What are you talking about?"

"Ok, look, there were some, uh others, besides blacks and gays, that were considered...no good. And I was told by my p-pops for a long time that they weren't any good, so I just believed it. But, when I realized that it was stupid, I had a hard time getting over those habits. He wasn't all that big on blacks and gays, sure, but didn't make me as fearful about them as...with those o-others."

Dipper stared at him in surprise. "I-I thought you weren't scared of anything."

"Well, kid, I...I am. And the one thing my pop made me fear the most were people that were...h-handicapped...those people were listed as...as well s-stupid," Stan told his great-nephew. He was undoubtedly having a difficult time telling him any of this. "And, well, kid, when people tell you a thing for a long time, you start to get it...uh, stuck in your head. Being told that kid over there in the, uh wheelchair should be should mocked and the...kid that wants to...k-kill himself should be made fun of...and when your pop tells you...t-that those people were re...reta...well, you know...it really gets to you. And I sorta wanna tell you that, sometimes...I-I say thing I don't mean, because they just...got stuck in my head...out of habit...Do you, uh understand that?"

The brunet thought about what he was told. His Grunkle Stan was plainly regretful for what he had said earlier. And the reasoning made sense. You get pressured by everyone to think a certain way about someone and even if you shake off that pressure, you sometimes have a hard time rewiring your brain to say the right words. "...I...I think I get what you're saying."

"Good...I want to tell you something I've noticed over the years though."

"What?"

"That people are a bunch of bastards."

"Uh, is that supposed to be inspirational?"

"No, this is: Blacks, gays, and handicaps, are all normal people, just like me and you. And anyone that says otherwise is stupid."

Dipper blinked a few times, face a portrait of amazement. What Grunkle Stan told him just now was actually pretty inspirational, though the wording was unorthodox. Who knew his great-uncle had the ability to state such a thing? He knew though that wasn't just meant to be inspirational thought though. "So, in other words, you're sorry and didn't mean it?"

"...Whatever you think I said, kid."

A smile made its way onto Dipper's face at that. "I forgive you."

"Well, let's head back now. Looks like I have to drive you to the hospital. Again."

Stan began the trek back to the Mystery Shack, grumbling about how expensive the summer was turning out to be. Dipper though, remained behind, as he glanced over his shoulder. The forest was as peaceful as it had ever been, with all those mysteries hidden within. No Gideon Gleeful to be seen. Did he imagine it? Had he even really been there? He wasn't all that sure anymore. After a moment, Dipper sprinted to catch Stan, attempting to keep up with his longer strides. What did it matter anyways? He knew that even if he was imagining things, he knew his sister and great-uncle would be there to guide and support him along the way...How could of he known though, that they needed as much support as he did, silently screaming for relief from the events in their lifetime that perpetually tormented them?

Chapter 4 End

Sorry for the OC!Stan. I tried my best with how I thought he would react in the situation. Anyways, I was really unsatisfied with the prologue and first two chapters after I posted chapter 3, so I updated them and I would appreciate if you viewers go back and read them. Please and thank you! :)