Chapter 38

Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.

"...Hey, it's...alright, Fiddles. I mean, I...I sorta did things too, you know?" Stan gulped down the rush of emotion, from the reminder of how their friendship had ended, all those years ago. He had regrets in his life, though this had been the largest one in his life, including creating a deal with Bill Cipher. He shrugged his shoulders, crossing his legs. "I mean, it was my fault that you...decided to do all that shit. I...if I was in the same situation as you, I would probably try to help you forget what happened, too."

"...I-I tried to...make y-you forget your brother t-though..." Fiddleford lifted his head, tears rolling down his cheeks, and into his beard. "I-I tried to m-make you like me."

Stan scratched his chin at the words. "Ok, look, I know you're feeling guilty and all, but I was able to get you guys off my back...I...uh, I had my hand in some memory erasing as well, with kinda the whole town."

"W-What?" Dipper interrupted the surprised ex-curator, appearing distressed by the words his great-uncle had spoke. "Y-You erased the t-town's memories?"

"Uh, kid, I know that sounds sorta bad, but, uh, I only made them forget about me. They...the reason everyone in town calls me 'Stanley' is that nobody remembered my brother, so I decided I needed a clean start...when the time to pick a name came, I picked my brother's..."

Dipper's eyes widened at the confession, the conversation they had had awhile back returning to his mind.
"Yes, I'm Stanford Pines. A lot of folks in this town think my full name is Stanley though."
"...Why?"
"Kid, sometimes folks want to see the best in others."

"Oh...G-Grunkle Stan...you...you are the best though."

The elder man blinked in confusion. "Huh?"

"You told me, that sometimes people want to see the best in others, when Dr. Thompson told me your name was Stanley, but...you're the best of them all..." He trailed off, beginning to blush, as Stan gaped wordlessly at him.

"Uh...gee...t-thanks..." He mumbled to his grand-nephew. "That actually means...a lot."

Dipper nodded his head, ripping the fez off, and covering his face. "Y-You're welcome..."

The Pines were surprised, when they heard a sob, emerging from Fiddleford's mouth. He wiped at the tears streaming down his face, releasing a string of sniffles. "T-That was...beautiful!"

Stan rolled his eyes, as Dipper pulled the fez from his face, his blush receding. "Jesus, is it me, or did you get sappier over the years? You used to cry over those stupid commercials with the dogs at the pound!"

"S-Says the m-moron that cried during the l-last episode of S-Star Trek."

Now it was Stan's turn to blush as deeply as Dipper had been moments ago. "That wasn't me! That was Stanley!"

The ex-curator wiped the remainder of his tears away, releasing a dry laugh. "And, I-I wasn't the one to cry about the dogs; t-that was y-you!"

The youngest Pines released a bark of laughter, as Fiddleford joined in, hiccuping from the crying he had done. Stan's face become darker, the shade of the fez Dipper held, as they laughed at his sensitivity. He pushed himself to his feet, stomping away, towards his great-nephew. He snatched the fez from him, as he bent over with laughter. "Yeah, laugh it up you two. Just because I'm a real man for crying about the important stuff, you guys make fun of me."

"You-You-!" Fiddleford snorted, as he uncurled himself, grasping at his stomach. Dipper nearly kneeled over, registering the words, as Stan shoved the fez back onto his head. "Y-You just jested at me about being s-sensitive a-and you turn a-around and s-state that you're m-manly for it!"

"Whatever! I don't know about you two, but I'm heading home now," He grumbled, kicking the button to cause the staircase back up to the surface. He was startled though, as Fiddleford's laughter cut off, and he felt someone slam into his back from behind. "W-What the hell?!"

"P-Please, I'm s-sorry! Don't l-leave me!" He twisted his head, catching a glimpse of Fiddleford, arm's wrapped around his chest, half of his face peering out from his back. He appeared frightened at the notion of Stan leaving him, alone, below the forest. He briefly noticed Dipper appear by his side, though he didn't seem to want to assist him in the situation. Not that he wanted him to.

"Kid, go back to the surface. I'll be up in a second."

Dipper bit his lip. "Ok..."

He disappeared up the winding staircase, as Stan twisted his body around. He found the face of the ex-curator buried in his chest, feeling the dampness seeping into his button-up, cringed at how wrong it felt to his skin underneath. Stan rested his hands atop the trembling shoulders, as the hands clung to his back. "Hey, I ain't leaving? I'm not mad or anything; we were all just playing around. I know, I can be a sap, too. Yeah, I did cry during the Star Trek final, though Stanley did first. I'm not gonna leave you behind for saying that though, ok? You understand that, Fiddles?"

Fiddleford lifted his head and Stan barely even reacted to the blood drenched across his face, seeping into his button-up, instead of the tears he had thought were being shed. He had become desensitized to the sight, his mind constantly battling against the blood and reality. He was sure he would of completely broke, as he had when he was young, if the squirming triangles returned. The blood wasn't as bad though. "I-I don't understand h-how y-you can forgive m-me."

He sighed. "Fiddleford, you're my best friend. I know why you were how you were then and I think you eating out of trash cans for like three decades is enough to make up anything bad you did. Now, can you let go? You're sorta getting me all wet from your...tears."

His best friend automatically released him, stumbling back a few steps, beginning to fidget. Stan raised an eyebrow at him, before the sound of a growling stomach filled the awkward silence. He shook his head, reminiscing on their last encounter. "You're hungry, again, aren't you?"

Fiddleford hesitated, before nodding sheepishly. "I haven't ate since last time I saw you."

"Figures. Let's go back to the Shack." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, towards the open door behind him.

He frowned. "What? Why are we going t-there?"

"Why do you think? You're going to live with me, until you get better."

Fiddleford waved his hands, appearing distressed at this. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly d-"

"God damn, Fiddleford! I spent the better part of 30 years, watching you eat out of trashcans and be made fun of by the town. Just let me do this for you!" He felt his hands trembling, becoming annoyed by the behavior. When his friend wrapped his arms around his own body, hunched over, as he stared at the ground, he realized he might have frightened him. He sighed, realizing that he let his emotions get the better of him, as he usually did. "Shit, I...I didn't mean to yell...I'm sorry...just..."

The ex-curator's head snapped up, eyes wide behind his glasses. "You...j-just apologized?"

"Uh...yeah?"

"I've never heard y-you...apologize before."

"What? Ok, so you're saying that during the seven years that we saw each other everyday, you never heard me ever say that?"

"N-No..."

Stan blinked a couple of times, squinting his eyes as he thought back onto any occurrences. If he had recalled correctly, he remembered he could be a downright dick to people. He had spent at least the first few months of knowing Fiddleford, giving him death threats, though he never apologized for that. In fact, he realized he had always had a difficult time apologizing to anyone. The last time he had apologized was...to Alex, for his mother dying. He couldn't recall a time before that, though he supposed it had been awhile. It suddenly occurred to him, it had become easier to apologize, thanks to Dipper and Mabel. He had seen how much of a jerk he could be and now knew when he had to. "Well, I guess you haven't."

~!20-8-5/14-9-7-20-8-13-1-18-5/18-5-1-12-13!~

After Stan and Dipper assisted Fiddleford back to the Shack, Stan had whisked him away to the bathroom, leaving behind Dipper in the kitchen. He stared into the empty room, feeling as though he was missing a part of himself. He felt another presence though, welling up inside, a type of negative one. Most of Jason had been dormant, though at times when Dipper would release a sassy phrase when felt upset, he could feel Jason seeping into him. He felt a saddening emotion overwhelm him though and he sighed. "Yeah, I miss her, too..."

He had been attempting to distract himself from Mabel being missing, but now that he had solved the riddle Bill had given him, he had no more distractions. He leaned against the kitchen counter, reaching out for the unopened pile of mail, that had been there since the morning of Gideon's birthday. He flipped through them, hoping to find a magazine, though froze when he spotted his name. Two names actually. Him and his sister. His heart jumped when he read the sender's name. "Pacifica Northwest, Roseraie Private Institution, Paris, France."

Dipper ripped open the letter, discovering the distraction he needed. The date read from over a week ago and he found the beginnings of a smile spread across his young face. "Dear Mabel and Dipper, I know I haven't been away long, but I needed your advice on something. Perhaps I should explain though. The school term has yet to start, though it will in August. The last time I went to France, I was four, so I don't remember a lot about it. Honestly, France is pretty amazing and I'm sure you two are jealous of how I can go to other countries. That was meant to be a joke, though knowing you two, it went over your heads. Anyways, I was roomed up with this really snobby girl a year older than me. You thought I was mean? She literally made three girls cry the first hour she showed up. I don't like her much and the other girls don't really want to talk to me, so it's not really fun. We don't get to do much right now, except go out to the city on trips during the weekends. I decided to some exploring one day though, because this school is as big as a castle! I went to go investigate the sports hall, because I'm going to be involved with archery (you thought you knew all my secrets, huh?). When I was looking at the display case for all the past champions up against other schools, I found something shocking. A plaque, for a Ivan Northwest winning a Rugby Championship back in the late 60's! I saw the picture and he looked sorta of what I would look like, if I was a guy. It was really surreal. When I asked around to the teachers and coaches, they said they didn't really know anything about him. They said the dean would know, because she's been here since the 50's, but she's gone until the school term starts. I don't really know if he's related to me, but my father never has mentioned anyone like that before. What do you two think? Should I ask her when she returns? Anyways, Dipper, don't stick your head into a book and waste away the rest of your summer. Mabel, you seriously need a wardrobe update, before starting junior high. Red looks nice on brunettes, just as a word of advice. I hope you two enjoy the rest of your summer. Write back soon! -Pacifica Elise Northwest."

Tears dripped onto the cursive scrawled across the paper. "S-She might not even make it to junior high."

~!-?-!~

Fiddleford had insisted he could wash himself, though Stan suggested he keep the door unlocked, in case he had an accident in the shower. He exited the bathroom, peeking into the living room. Gideon released a low sounding snore, appearing peaceful in his sleep. Stan smiled to himself at the sight, heading back to the kitchen. When he found Dipper crushing a letter in his hands, gasping through his sobs, he was immediately by his side. "Woah, what's wrong now?"

Dipper's shoulders quivered, as he choked out his words. "I-I'm never going to s-see Mabel, a-again! S-She's gone for-for-for-ever a-a-a-!"

Stan dragged himself down with his grand-nephew, as he collapsed to his knees, the letter fluttering from his hands. Dipper grasped at his own chest, heaving out his sobs. The elder man wrapped Dipper into his arms, setting him onto his criss-crossed legs. Dipper buried his face into his chest, re-soaking the button-up, and Stan rubbed his back. "Just let it out...just let it out, kid..."

What Stan had realized overtime, was that his attempts to prevent a panic attack wouldn't always work out. He couldn't simply make Dipper calm down or to cease his attacks, he needed to let them run their course. He would be there to soothe Dipper, until he could regain control, but he couldn't stop them. This panic attack wasn't so much hyperventilating, but more of sobbing and shivering from the adrenaline in him. As the trembling edged away, replaced with deep breathes, he pulled the 13-year-old's face from his chest. His chocolate eyes shimmered with tears and Stan rubbed one on his cheek away. "Listen, you will see Mabel, again. I promise you that. I won't give up, until she...and my brother, have their souls back. I would do anything to save them, just like I'm sure you would, kid. Now, I can't stop your concern for her, just like I can't stop my own for Stanley, but everything will be ok."

Dipper bobbed his head up and down. "I-I know you would...I-I'm just s-scared..."

"I know and so am I...you need to keep it together though, so we can save them. Now that I'm listening to Cipher, maybe he'll be more willing to not give us those darn rhymes...though, knowing him, he'll probably just keep doing that."

"H-He helped find Old Man McGucket."

"Mr."

"Sorry...M-Mr. McGucket."

"Yeah, that's true...but, I still wouldn't trust him...you haven't seen everything he's capable of and I'm pretty sure I haven't either."

Dipper shrugged, the internal conflict of listening to his great-uncle or the dream demon returning. "I don't k-know...um, is Mr. McGucket still in the shower?"

"Ah, shoot. Ok, cuddle time is over. I need to go check up on him and get him some clothes to wear," The brunet scrambled off his lap, as he began to rise from the kitchen floor, heading over to the doorway. "Can you go knock on the door and ask him if he's ok in there?"

"Y-Yeah."

Stan headed down to his brother's room, swinging open the door. He headed over to the dresser, sliding open the second drawer. Stanley's frame wasn't as large as his own, so he figure his clothes would be closer to Fiddleford's size. Considering the weight Stanley had gained around his waist, it would be baggy around the hem, but it would have to do. He frowned, as he chose a sweater, and a pair of slacks. His brother had lost weight, while he had been trapped in the pocket dimension, since apparently he hadn't eaten there. When Stanley had first told him this, he completely freaked out. He quickly explained that he didn't need food there to survive, though he did feel the hunger pains. Stan couldn't help but to remember when Bill Cipher hadn't let him eat, while he had been inside his body. He had thought that conversation and the one where he explained how Bill tricked him were painful. What was worse though, was the conversation where he had to explain what he missed out over the years. He left out the details involving his suicide attempt, his depression, and alcoholism, but told him most of everything else. The pained expressions about how his personal life and world had advanced without him, nearly killed Stan. He slammed shut the drawer. "This should work."

He headed down to the bathroom, spotting Dipper re-reading the letter he held in his hands. "Whose that from?"

Dipper looked up from the slip of paper. "Pacifica. She was telling...Mabel and I how boarding school was."

"Hmm," He thought back on the betrayal from Ivan, the one Stan had always seen coming, though no one else had. He didn't believe Preston Northwest's daughter was as dangerous as the rest of the family, and prayed he was right. She honestly seemed to be on friendly terms with the twins, and was able to stand up to her family's mistreatment. Pacifica seemed promising so far and he hoped she would continue to be. "He doing ok?"

"Mr. McGucket said he was ok. He didn't want to come out though, since he doesn't have clothes and all."

"Alright," He knocked upon the door. "Fiddles? Hope you have a towel wrapped around you, cause I'm coming in."

He twisted the handle, cracking the door open. Stan briefly peeked inside, catching a glimpse of Fiddleford curled up on the ground, beside the sink, towel wrapped around him, as the blanket had been in the bunker. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him, and leaving Dipper out in the hallway. He approached the man, observing the dripping water from his beard. The elder man extended the clothes in his hands. "Uh, you need help changing or-?"

Fiddleford adjusted his glasses, a few droplets of water collected on them, shaking his head. "N-No...you can leave t-them on the sink...I-I'll be out in a second..."

He dropped them into the bowl of the sink, heading back to the door. "We'll be in the kitchen, when you're done. I know you're hungry, so I might make us pancakes or something lighter if you can't handle that."

"O-Ok."

Stan exited the bathroom, heading to the kitchen, to reveal Gideon sitting with Dipper at the table. They spoke in hushed voices, Dipper explaining what had occurred when he had fallen asleep at the table earlier. Their attention turned to him, as he entered in the room. The elder Pines headed over to the fridge, swinging it open, and examining the contents. "What are you kiddos in the mood for?"

"Can we have omelets?" Dipper suggested.

"Omelets it is," Stan reached in for the eggs and butter, before he slammed the fridge shut. As he reached into the cabinets for a pan, he began to speak to Gideon. "Guessing Dipper told you what happened. McGucket is going to be staying here for a bit. I don't really know how long, so just to warn you, he might be around a bit."

"I-I d-don't r-really m-mind...i-it's y-your h-house, M-Mr. P-Pines."

He twisted the nob for the flames to appear from the the right sided gas burner, setting down the pan. "If you don't feel comfortable about it, kiddo, I'm gonna do something about it, ok?"

Gideon shook his head. "I-It's f-fine..."

"S-Stanford?" Fiddleford whispered from the doorway, hesitantly inching into the kitchen.

Stan dropped a slap of butter, rubbing it across the sizzling pan with his spatula. "You can come in. I'm just starting some omelets in here. Can you handle that right now?"

The ex-curator entered the room, shuffling over to the table, the end of the slacks he wore, sliding across the floor. The sweater hung down to below his belt, sleeves covering his hands. He settled himself in the seat across from the younger ones. "Um...I...I don't think so..."

"Ok, would you settle for toast, again?" The elder man cracked open some eggs, dropping them in.

"That would be fine."

"I'll make some in a second. Let me just finish up their food."

"Mr. McGucket?" Dipper caught his attention.

"Yes, Dipper?"

"You were friends with Grandpa Stanley, right?"

"Um...y-yes...he...that's right I-I suppose he w-was your grandfather..."

"Do you want to see him?" Stan immediately whirled around, as Fiddleford's eyebrows furrowed. He shook his head at the 13-year-old frantically. He hadn't explained any of that situation with his best friend and it might trigger a type of break down. Dipper noticed the face Stan had, backtracking. "I-I mean, if he was around, would you want to see him?"

"Oh, I would...h-he...he wore glasses when he was younger, didn't he Stan? Or was that y-you?"

"No, that was him. I wore glasses until I got to high school and then I stopped. I had to start wearing them, again, when I was in my 40's though. I got cataracts, so my eyes are as bad as they've ever been." He flipped the first omelet.

"Oh...I-I'm sorry to hear that..and f-for mixing up t-the memories..."

"Stop with the apologizing, Fiddles. Your head is just all mixed up. Things will clear up, so just give it time." He started on with the second omelet, dropping extra cheese on this one, for Dipper.

"I k-know...just...you t-two are merged t-together in my mind..."

"Like I said, everything will clear up." He flipped the second omelet.

"I-Is this like w-when you said I didn't break my c-collar bone, after f-fighting the unicorns, a-and I actually did?"

"...Unicorns?" Dipper mumbled.

Stan whirled around, once more, pointing his spatula, as he hissed at the ex-curator. "We said we were never going to talk about the unicorn incident."

This caused the beginnings of a smile to appear on Fiddleford's face. "Of course, of course..."

"What hap-?" Dipper began to ask, though he was cut off by Stan.

"There's no such thing as unicorns and that's the end of that, ok?" He went back to the cooking, turning off the flames. He opened the cabinet, retrieving three sets of plates, and moving back to the fridge to return the ingredients. After replacing the food, he removed the loaf of bread and headed over to the toaster. He set it on the lowest setting, before heading to the table to present the meal to the youngest pair. "Bon appetit, you little gremlins."

"T-Thank y-you." Gideon answered, before he and Dipper dug into their breakfast.

"And, your toast will be done in a second, Fiddles," The moment he told him this, the toast popped out. "There we go."

After placing the toast on the plate, he handed it to his best friend. Fiddleford had small portions of the toast, munching carefully, so not to upset his weak stomach. Stan observed the trio, realizing they were distracted by their food. He headed out of the kitchen, unbeknownst to them, heading to the phone in the entryway of the front door. The elder Pines reached out to the phone and removed it from the jack. His hand hovered over the numbers, before dialing the number he desired. "...Tate? It's me, Stan."

"Stan?" The voice questioned into his ear. Stan knew he wouldn't ever remember the relationship they had before and that had saddened him over the years, yet he had managed to befriend him over the years. They weren't close friends, though they had had a couple of poker games over the years and been to the lodge as well. Or, at least before the members decided to ban him for being a threat to their lives. That sure wasn't the first time that had occurred and he was confident it wouldn't be the last. "This is unusual. You usually call later in the day."

"Yeah, well I had something to talk to you about."

"...What's going on?"

"It's about your pops."

"...hold on, I'm going somewhere more private," Stan hadn't even thought about him being out by the lake for work, though he supposed being the head ranger there, would mean he would be present the most. He listened to a variety of random sounds come over the line, as Tate found somewhere to speak to him, without anyone overhearing."Ok, what'd he do now?"

"Uh...well...this is sorta complicated, but I'll just tell you this; he's becoming sane, again."

"...what do you mean?"

"Well, you remember how I was friends with him, when we were younger?"

"Uh, yeah, vaguely."

"He's starting to remember who I am and acting how he used to be. You probably don't remember how he was before, bu-"

"Oh, no, I remember. Are you sure though? You know my dad has his lucid moments."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. He's actually over at the Mystery Shack with me and he's been like this for awhile now."

"...what if he starts to regress back though?"

Stan didn't want to even think about that. "He's really becoming sane, again. I just thought I sound let you know."

"Ok, well, can you just watch him for awhile? If...if he's still like that in two days, I'll swing by and see him."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll keep you updated. Bye."

"Bye." Stan pressed the phone to his forehead, breathing out a sigh of frustration.

End Chapter 38

Awww, little Dipper and Mabel are soooo adorable in the newest episode. I absolutely loved it and Dippy Fresh was the most 90's reference I've probably seen in my life. The ending of the episode nearly had me squealing though, Stan having his chief sash and becoming the leader during the apocalypse is the best. I can't wait for the next episode! Anyways, notes for this chapter are only about Tate McGucket. Tate, in my story at least, has a type of love-hate relationship with his father. I imagined it as he couldn't quite handle his father losing his mind, so he had to avoid him at all costs. Tate probably has the memory of Fiddleford being sane in his mind, but what he became killed him. The idea that Fiddleford was returning to sanity would frightened him in a way, considering how much he's longed for that moment, though he had given up long ago. As always, favorites, reviews, and followers are appreciated!