Mabel tried to compose herself, but she couldn't. Tears cleaned the dirt from her cheeks, but she couldn't focus. She was sobbing while she called out to her brother. "D-dipper, please." She blubbered out while she tried to wake her brother up.
But he just remained lying there. She covered her eyes with her hands. What could she do? What? She had no idea of first aid.
She tried to think of a way to save her brother, but she had no idea! He was dying. Or maybe even already dead...
The pure thought sent shivers down her spine and her hands were shacking. She extended one of them to Dipper's throat, trying to check for a pulse like they always did that in the movies. Her hands stopped mere inches before that. She feared the truth, feared that it was already too late.
Her hand was still shacking, but she was sure she could feel a pulse. Dipper was still alive, he was only unconscious. A surge of relief flooded through her.
That was good. But now she had to save him. She tried to think of what she could do.
Wait here for help to come. They always said when you are lost, you should stay where you are. First rule of survival. But no one knew where they were. Grunkle Stan did, but the forest was big, and when the grunkles finally found them, it could be too late.
That was all her fault, if she never wanted to investigate that scales and the trail in the first place! That had been a bad idea! When even Dipper wanted to go back, she should have known that it was too dangerous!
And now that killed her brother. She shivered again and started sobbing, burying her face in her hands. She killed her brother.
Calm down, girl. A voice in her head said, sounding like Dipper. He's your brother and he needs you. You won't fail him now. It was her voice of reason.
She slowly exhaled. He was her brother, and his fate lied in her hands. She wouldn't disappoint him. She had to save him.
Mabel racked her brain what was the best course of option. She had to stop the bleeding fast, but with what? Would her sweater do the trick? And then she needed to get him back to the Mystery Shack as soon as possible, but how? She could carry him, she knew that. Several times she had to carry him to his bed when he fell asleep again reading or watching one of his ghost-hunting shows.
But was that really a good idea? Dipper talked about making it only worse, and moving him now in his state could be a bad idea. She definitely didn't want to harm him further. So slinging him on her shoulder and just carrying him back was out of the question.
If she just was as clever as Dipper. He probably knew a medicine book by heart and would have figured out a dozen ways to get her safely out with that big brain of his. What could she do, how did knitting and glitter, arts and crafts save her brother?
"Grunkle Stan!" was a far cry in the forest. Stan Pines was currently sitting in his favourite armchair and enjoying the greatest quality Gravity Falls Television could offer with a Pitt cola in his hand. Which meant he was staring at a blank matt screen.
He furrowed his eyebrows because he thought he heard something. He fumbled at his hearing aid, trying to think if he just imagined that or if he really heard that. Did Ford call him from basement? Had the world nerdiest old man blown himself up again?
Then he heard it again. "Grunkle Stan"!. But it wasn't what he heard in words, but more the pitch of the voice. He was out of the door before his soda even hit the ground.
And what he saw out there nearly caused him a heart attack. He didn't know what was more painful to see, Mabel's face, drowned in tear, and radiating distress and sorrow or what caused that condition. She was only wearing her shirt, not one of her usual bright coloured sweaters, stained with dirt with twigs and flowers standing out of her hair.
Behind her was some kind of improvised sleigh. Stan needed a moment to realize that it was made from her sweater and wood. The white wool now crimson with blood.
On it was lying Dipper, looking deathly pale.
His shirt was in tatters. He didn't wear his vest, but it was instead draped around his stomach. The dark blue almost turned into black by his blood.
"G-grunkle Stan.!" She called out, new tears trickling down her face. "D-di-dipper!" she stuttered before she fell to ground, sobbing uncontrollably. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically.
Stan looked at her stunned, his mind empty, before his parental instincts kicked in. He kneeled in front of Mabel, lying his hand on her shoulder and tried to speek as softly and calm as he could to her. "Don't worry, sweetie. He's gonna fine, we will fix him." His voice still betrayed him.
Without another moment of hesitation, because every single second now was precious, he picked up the sweater-sleigh and ran as fast as he could without moving Dipper to much back to the Shack.
He started shouting from the top of his lungs for his brother. If anyone knew how to fix such injuries, it's gonna be that nerd. He wasn't that kind of doctor, but he may still have picked up something useful up in that thirty years. He felt a pang of guilt thinking about under which circumstances Ford could have picked up these skills, but he didn't dwell too long on that. His mind was on other things.
When he reached the vending machine was already opening while Ford's voice reached him.
"What is it now, Stanley? I already told you my work is important, and I don't want to be interrupted for trivial things!" His voice angry, like he was annoyed that his brother is going to pester him with little problems while he had so much more important stuff to do.
Stan felt the sudden urge to punch his brother, but Ford couldn't know and it vanished when Ford came around the vending machine.
Ford's face went through a plethora of different emotions in just a few seconds as he saw why Stan disturbed his work in the lab.
The anger he wore vanished so fast that Stan wouldn't be sure it was there if he hadn't heard his voice prior. Confusion spread over his face while Ford processed what was going on. That was quickly replaced by the dawning realization of what was Stan holding there, the shock and horror.
He was already turning back to the corridor behind the vending machine when his expression turned into concern.
"Ford!" Stan yelled, unbelievable that his brother just went back to his lab!
"I'm preparing everything! There's no time to lose!" His voice wasn't shaky at all, and he seemed to show no emotion, just a grim determination.
Stan just followed him. "You're gonna help him, do you?"
He looked down at Dipper. His blood was already soaking through and coloured Stan's undershirt. The boy was pale and Stan felt that he was already very cold, and Stan just saw how barely his chest moved when he breathed.
"I'm gonna do everything I can." He opened the elevator.
"Can you take him?" Stan asked. "I need to look after his sister, she is freaking out."
Ford just took the improvised stretcher, his face showed concern, looking down at his nephew. "Who wouldn't..." he murmured before he closed the door.
Mabel had buried her face on the carpet in the living room. Stan had tried to distract her with television, but it had no effect. She was just constantly sobbing that Stan feared she would dehydrate herself.
"It's all my fault." She cried again, and Stan just patted her on her shoulder.
"No, it isn't." He tried his best to remain as calm as possible, but he was afraid that he didn't sound as reassuring as he wished.
"Yes, it is!" she screamed against the carpet, her voice sounding hoarse. "If I didn't want to collect these stupid flowers, my brother wouldn't be d-d-d." She couldn't even finish the word without her voice breaking down and a new wave of sobs erupting.
"No, it isn't." Stan just repeated. He didn't know what to say, but he could understand her. Making a mistake that took away your brother? That was something he knew too well.
He tried to think of something to cheer her up, and got an idea. At least that was something that brought back some familiarity back. He swept the shack for until he found one of them.
"Sweetie, look. You're under shock and you need some warmth. Take this." He hold a sweater to her that he just found lying somewhere. It was a pink one with a yellow horse on it.
She didn't answer, just lying there quietly.
Stan just sighed "Please, Mabel. Do it for me." A short sob answered him. Stan didn't know how long he could take this scene anymore. It was breaking his heart to see her like this. And he didn't even dare to imagine what Dipper was currently going through. Save him, Sixer. Please, just save him.
He started walking around the Shack, not being able to hold still. He tried to get his mind on other things, but he found that hard. He tried to keep Mabel always in line of sight, just in case she needed him but that didn't make him feel better.
And whenever he left her out of his eyes, his mind wandered back to the moment he saw her arriving at the shack. And the moment he saw Dipper lying there, pale as corpse with the bloodied bandage around his belly.
Time passed and he couldn't tell how much. Not that he actually wanted, but he got the feeling that time stood still and every agonizing second was creeping long like an eternity. He didn't know how he could keep himself busy. Sorting the Gift Shop or building some new attractions just seemed so pointless to him. He wanted to distract himself, but he couldn't stop thinking of his grandnephew- and niece. Of the bundle Mabel dragged through the forest...
Time is dead and meaning has no meaning! shot through his head and he didn't know why. That wasn't important now.
When he took another look at Mabel, he was relieved that she actually dressed herself in the sweater. He was less relieved that she retreated in the sweater her legs and head pulled inside with just her hair sticking out of the top.
He saw that as a progress, kind off. She at least moved. But he still could hear her cry from inside.
He kneeled in front of her and stroke the hair tentatively. "Mabel?" He asked cautious.
"Mabel's not here. Sweatertown is currently holding a memorial service." Stan got the feeling that the sobs echoed inside the sweater. It was imaginary, but it still scared him.
"Mabel, cut it out!" He said, harsher than he intended, but he couldn't bear that any second longer.
The sobs stopped for a moment, maybe just from the surprise.
"Mabel, sweetie. Your brother will be fine. You know Dipper, you know he's tough when he has to but first and foremost you know that he would never leave you alone."
The crying stopped, and he heard a few sobs before it got quiet. Then a faint voice answered from the sweater. "You think so?"
Stan felt a pang of relief, but he had to seize the opportunity before she again got overwhelmed by her grief.
"We're talking here about Dipper. He never would abandon you, he would never leave you like that and he wouldn't let anything stop him, no matter what happens."
"Y-you're right." Her voice was shaking but her head rose from the neck of her sweater. Her face was still wet from her tears, but at least for a moment there were no new ones coming.
Stan used his sleeve and dried her face. "See, everything's a bit better now, right?"
She nodded and used her own sleeve to dry her face. "But what should I do now? I n-nearly killed him."
Stan just sighed, thinking what he could say that would allow her to be more happy with what happened, he got some experience in such situations.
"You screwed up. That's no problem, we all do, from time to time.." Stan said and his hand unconsciously wandered to the burn on his shoulder.
Mabel just nodded, her eyes red from crying but finally there was finally a glimmer of relief. Stan couldn't other than to let a small smile on his face.
He expanded further on it. "But when you screw up, you have to make up for it. Learn from it and do better the next time. First thing you do when Ford is finished with him is you apologize."
She nodded again, but suddenly the glimmer of relief vanished from her eyes and her face distorted in fear. "But what is...what is if he won't forgive me?" Her voice was just barely above a whisper but Stan could still feel the pain in it.
Though they both knew that was bollocks, Stan had to address it anyway. He knew too well that in despair any dark thought may sprout, no matter how unlikely they were.
"That doesn't matter." Stan said. Maybe these weren't the words she wanted to hear, or the words that were the best, but it were the words Stan had.
"You fu- you made a mistake and now you're gonna make good. It doesn't matter if he forgives you right away, or if it takes time."
Mabel just looked at him, with her big puppy eyes. Trying to comprehend what he just said.
"You can't undo your mistakes. That's the hard truth. Nothing you do will simply make these mistakes disappear, so now you have to live with them." Stan's hand clenched into a fist when he said that.
"But what..." Mabel started, her voice wavering but Stan just continued, closing his eyes.
"You have to live with it. You can only do your best, try to atone for what you've done and hope that one day you will be forgiven. Because forgiveness is not something that you earn, it's something that is given."
His hand relaxed and he took a deep breath. For a moment he closes his eyes and thought. You should better follow your own advice, Stan.
Mabel just looked at him, eyes red and her look was a mixture of confusion, fear and understanding.
Stan thought that he made it worse. Of course, that were the wrong words to say, he shouldn't try to project himself on the kids like he already did with Dipper.
But to his surprise Mabel just nodded.
He blinked bewildered. He didn't knew if he actually said the right thing, if Mabel understood what he was actually talking about or if she simply needed some encouraging words to dispel any dark thoughts that could come up.
She finally pulled her legs out of her sweater and Stan used the opportunity and hugged his grandniece. She murmured "Thanks, grunkle Stan." A smile shot over Stan's face.
That's when they both heard the vending machine sliding open, and steps coming from the gift shop.
With dreadful anticipation they watched his brother entering the room. His trenchcoat was sprinkled with blood, and Stan felt something twist in his guts when he saw that. Ford looked exhausted how he walked to them slowly.
"There you are." he just said feeble.
"Dipper?" were the only words Mabel could produce, her eyes fixed on the man in front of her.
Ford just sighed tired, and kneeled in front of Mabel, looking from eye to eye. Stan just watched his brother, and he could only imagine what that girl would feel in this deciding moment.
"I'll make it short." Ford started. "Dipper is..."
That was all he could say before he was interrupted. Mabel couldn't hold it, because she knew, knew, what the next word would be.
Every bit of the encouragement was forgotten, and she started screaming and crying. She threw herself on the ground, because she couldn't even sit upright anymore. Stan just registered that barely.
Instead he felt a cold spreading through his body while he digested what Mabel got so fast. He knew that cold, but he only felt it once before...
"Mabel!" Ford yelled at the girl and grabbed her shoulders. Both she and Stan were startled by the sudden volume Ford put out. Before anyone could say anything, Ford pressed three words out.
"Dipper. Is. Fine!"
Mabel just stared at him, speechless while the new realization took in. "What...?"
Ford sighed again and rubbed his forehead. "Dipper is fine, he's gonna make it."
Mabel just dove at Ford, hugging him, burying her face in his sweater and probably smearing blood over her sweater. But Ford simply gently patted her head, looking glad that she had calmed down.
"Couldn't you break the news to us better, without making us think the worst!" Stan just snapped , but he felt no anger. Instead a feeling of joy took in.
"Sorry." Ford just rubbed his eyes. "It's been draining, but I tried my best." Ford just sat down, beside them. He looked in as bad a shape as Mabel. How he must felt, the pressure from trying to save his nephew's life with his hands in his guts.
"It's okay, Sixer." Stan said and Ford gave him a thankful look. "Don't worry, the boy is tough."
"Yes, he will need a few days of rest, but it was mostly a superficial wound. The blood loss was the worst. He might be lightheaded for a while, but in a week or so, he's gonna be back on his legs. But you're better not make him work in the shop for that time." Ford said, his tone getting sharper with the last sentence.
Stan made a face. "Really, that boy is probably cost a small fortune on medical supplies, so he could at least help with some of the bills..." He trailed off after Ford shot him a glare while he was actually thinking if he should shelter the boy in the attic with his sister or make an improvised bed here in the living room, where he had the TV to distract him and Ford, Wendy and Soos could better supervise the boy.
"You want to see your brother?" Ford simply asked Mabel, ignoring Stan's greed. Mabel's face emerged from the sweater of her grunkle. Stan could see that she was crying again, but this time the tears we're not from pain or fear.
"Of course!" She made basically an 180 degree turn and was now beaming with happiness. Ford simply picked her up and the three went to his lab.
When they exited the lift, the smell of copper and medicine hit them. The room was sparely lit and Stan was asking himself how Ford could operate under this conditions.
They saw Dipper laid out on a makeshift operating table, with medical supplies and equipment littered around there. A white blanket, thankfully not stained with blood was covering the boy, while he was lying there.
The three got closer slowly, and Dipper moved his head a little in their direction, showing that he was awake.
"Hey, bro-bro." Mabel began, her voice almost sounding embarrassed. "Sorry for what happened. But I'm gonna make you the best 'Get well, soon!' card ever!"
Dipper just mustered a smile and said: "Don't worry, Mabel. Hope you kept some of the flowers for that."
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