don't need regret
Dipper had been so caught up in the impromptu monster hunt-slash-anomaly search that he hadn't taken the time to consider the logistics of coming home right after adventuring. It's something he'd done plenty of times at the Shack, but he hadn't been about to see his parents there and Grunkle Stan was generally indifferent to the twins' hygiene anyway.
Luckily, his grunkles had come prepared for the trip, so they won't have to talk to his parents in attire covered in warehouse grime. Dipper showers as quickly as he can, his motions mechanical as his mind sticks to that thought. Grunkle Stan and Ford are going to talk to his parents. And it's not about him, Dipper knows that; this is family history, Dad's history, and Great-Uncle Ford has the right to know his nephew. It's just that there are ways this could end badly, which could happen if too much truth is revealed, or too little. Ford is circumspect when it comes to the portal and a lot of his research, but his tendency to keep secrets clashes with his predilection for being unfortunately blunt. Dipper is hoping Ford can explain his sudden reappearance without getting into any of the more dangerous details.
Dipper doesn't need to worry about Grunkle Stan. Stan lies out of sheer habit, never mind when it's actually necessary (although given what Dipper read in the journals—and has since personally experienced—Ford is more like his brother than he would probably admit).
The thing is, a lot of what happened last summer isn't secret just because it could put Dipper and Mabel's vacation at risk; there are many aspects that are legitimately dangerous to everyone, knowledge that nearly brought about the end of the world. Dipper isn't the kind of person who believes that ignoring extra-dimensional threats is the way to go, and some day humanity will have no choice but to confront the Nightmare Realm and everything else that lies beyond the borders of what's considered reality. But this should preferably happen in a gradual way and at a governmental level, under the guiding hand of Great-Uncle Ford. Maybe Dipper will be a part of that. For now, it all must stay under wraps.
He's clean and dressed and not ready for what comes next, but he goes downstairs anyway. Grunkle Stan is nowhere to be seen and Dipper assumes he's using one of the bathrooms. Ford is seated on the couch. He's not doing anything but sitting, staring up and out the window high in the wall above the TV. This is striking to Dipper because he's sure it's happened before, but he can't recall another moment in which Great-Uncle Ford was just sitting, doing nothing. Most of the time it feels like Ford is doing calculus even in his sleep.
Dipper goes over and seats himself next to his great-uncle. Ford looks over and smiles slightly. "Nerve-racking, isn't it?" he says conversationally. "I spent many years believing this moment would never come. After a while, it was easier to accept that I wouldn't see home again."
"Didn't you ever find some place that you wanted to stay?" Dipper asks.
"A few," Ford says, eyes distant with memory. "Thirty years is a long time, even when you're hopping dimensions so often that 'time' ends up being a malleable concept. But I'd sworn to destroy Bill. In the end, no matter how tempting a locale, it was just another source of parts for my Quantum Destabilizer."
Dipper doesn't really understand that kind of obsession. His preoccupation with Journal 3 is the closest thing he can relate, and he knows it's not equivalent. Ford has lost so much that Dipper can't wrap his head around it. How do you talk about thirty years wasted on a failed weapon? Ford is so matter of fact and Dipper is stuck trying to slip a response around all that weight.
"Well, it was pretty cool," he says eventually, feeling utterly inadequate.
"That it was," Ford says fondly, and Dipper relaxes a bit.
The sound of the garage door rumbling through the walls of the house makes him tense up again. "Okay, so that's gotta be Mom or Dad or maybe both—" he stammers.
Ford's hand falls on his shoulder, quieting him. "It'll be alright. I've actually been looking forward to this."
Dipper swallows whatever else he was going to say and looks at the floor for a second. "…Just, please don't tell them we almost died?" he says plaintively.
"I will use the utmost discretion," Ford promises. "I can't have my apprentice banned from Gravity Falls now, can I?"
Dipper is just beginning to swell with the joy of having his title confirmed again (apprentice! For real!) when the door to the garage in the laundry room opens. "Kids, come help carry groceries!" Mom yells out.
He jumps to his feet and stations himself in the short hall to the laundry room, not sure what he's going to do when his parents come in. He just doesn't want to do it sitting down. Should he make introductions? That would go over great. 'Hey, Mom and Dad, welcome back. Here's an uncle you didn't know you had until just right now.' Yeah, perfect.
He's standing there like a deer in the headlights when Mom comes through the laundry room door with a paper bag tucked under one arm. "Didn't you hear me?" she says, seeing him there. "Go get your sister and Pacifica and carry in groceries." From the way she then halts and stares, Dipper knows she's seen Great-Uncle Ford. "Stan?" she says, eyes widening in surprise.
Dipper is certain there's no quick or easy way to explain this. He's still going to try. "Um, Mom, this is—" he turns around to (badly) introduce Ford, only for his mouth to snap shut when he realizes it is Stan. "Uh…"
"Hey!" Grunkle Stan says awkwardly, spreading his arms in greeting.
"When did you get here?" Mom asks. "If I'd known you were coming, I would have—"
She's cut off when Dad comes in behind her and blurts out, "Uncle Stan?"
"Hey, how ya doin'?" Grunkle Stan asks with a smile that's closer to a pained grimace.
"Good!" Dad says, shutting the door behind him. "Didn't know you were coming down to visit, you should have said something."
"Kind of a spur of the moment type thing," Grunkle Stan says. He rubs at the back of his neck and glances away. "So, listen… did your dad ever talk much about my brother?"
Dad frowns. "No, not much." He looks at Dipper, probably debating if any of the kids should be around. "I know he passed away and there was some trouble before that, but I was pretty young."
"He told you he died, huh?" Grunkle Stan says, sounding surprised.
Dad's expression turns pensive. "Well… not in so many words. That was always the impression I was given, though." His gaze focuses back on Stan. "What is this about, Stan? Why didn't you call ahead?"
Stan sighs and straightens up like he's bracing himself. "Look, there's a lot of baggage in this family that nobody talks about, but… well, it's complicated. It's just, there's someone here who really wants to meet you. How about we all sit down and talk?" He takes the groceries from Mom and sets them on the counter inside the kitchen doorway, then gestures them forward.
When Mom and Dad enter the living room Ford is standing there, hands clasped with a nervous posture Dipper hasn't seen in him before. Mom and Dad stare at him, taken aback.
"Hello," Ford says, clearing his throat. He looks at Dad more closely and his eyes soften. "You didn't look so much like your father, when you were younger. But it's quite the resemblance now."
"…Uncle Stan?" Dad breathes, utterly perplexed.
"Yes. And, no. I was away at college for part of your childhood, then researching, then… well. Gone, for the rest. I don't believe we've spoken since Christmas 1978, wasn't it? A long time. Too long."
"I don't understand," Dad says weakly.
"There's a great deal to explain," Ford tells him. "Please, sit. I'll tell you as much as I can."
As they all seat themselves Dipper remains standing to one side and can't decide if he should sit down, or if he's better off stepping away. He's been all set to defend his grunkles, but it really feels like his input isn't necessary and might even make things worse. This is the adults talking about things that happened before he was born.
He looks up to where Mabel and Pacifica are peering out at the proceedings from behind the bars of the railing on the upstairs landing. As quietly as he can, he backs away from the adults and goes up to join the girls. He sits next to them and immediately wonders if he's made a mistake, if he needs to go back down and jump in. He doesn't know what he'll do, but…
At least the kids have one ace up their sleeve: Judging by the way Mabel is blinking, she's priming the tear pump.
Ford has a rough start ahead of him. Before he can start to explain his science (or the parts of it he can) he must account for his existence. Mom and Dad are stiff in their seats, dumbfounded by the two nearly identical men before them. Ford is trying to start from the beginning but keeps having to slow down to add detail.
Mom looks between the two of them like she expects someone to jump out with a hidden camera. "How can you possibly have a twin we didn't know about?" she says accusingly to Stan. "This is ridiculous!"
"You got that right. I couldn't make this stuff up. And I make stuff up all the time!" Grunkle Stan says.
"Er, I did know about it…" Dad says sheepishly, momentarily drawing Mom's ire. "Just not as much as I thought I did, apparently."
"I never could keep your side of the family straight," Mom huffs. "I thought it was just you being vague."
Dad shrugs apologetically. "That too."
"We weren't ever that close knit," Grunkle Stan says reflectively. "Even when we were growing up, never kept in touch much with cousins or nothin.'"
"My disappearance muddied the waters considerably, but it was hardly the only factor," Ford agrees.
"So, you disappeared?" Dad says, stuck on that part (and not without reason; Dipper also recalls being stuck on that part).
"There was an accident," Ford hedges. "A malfunction. Human error, you might say."
"It was my fault," Grunkle Stan says grimly.
"Not entirely. I'd made more than a few mistakes of my own to get to that point. The specifics are highly technical and, frankly, dangerous. The technology my partner and I were researching was extremely experimental and under a number of NDAs. I'm sure you understand."
Dad works for a software company, so he reluctantly nods his understanding. Mom is less discreet. "I still don't understand. Where did you go?" she asks.
"I can't discuss that," Ford says sternly. "Please don't press me any further. There are too many aspects of my work that remained classified for very good reasons."
Mom grudgingly lets that go, only to focus on another line of inquiry. "But why did Stan take your name?"
"Convenience, among other things," Ford says airily, as if he's speculating and Grunkle Stan isn't sitting right next to him. "Someone had to pay my mortgage, after all. If the government had discovered my absence, they might have tried to seize my work. They did pay for a great deal of it, after all. Stanley was able to pacify them by gradually doling out a few of my side projects and eventually declaring my 'retirement.'"
"After the first ten years I just stopped talking to them. They wouldn't give me another grant, but they didn't try to take the house at least," Grunkle Stan adds.
Ford eyes him. "You would have applied for another grant," he mutters, before continuing in a lighter tone. "His quick thinking kept my equipment in the right hands until the matter could be resolved."
"After thirty years?" Mom says in disbelief.
"I didn't say it was a timely or ideal solution," Ford says blandly.
"So, you didn't have much of a choice," Dad says to Grunkle Stan.
"Yeah, more or less," Grunkle Stan says shiftily. "I, uh, was also dragging around a few loose ends that I was happy to tie up."
"I'm sure," Ford dryly agrees.
"And you just happened to come back while the kids were there?" Mom says.
"A fortuitous coincidence," Ford tells her, casually glossing over the convoluted chain of events the twins had set in motion. "I can't tell you how pleased I was to discover I had new family!"
"I know the feeling," Dad says, and in his shy smile Dipper can suddenly see an echo of the child Dad once was.
"I'm glad to see you again," Grunkle Ford says genuinely. "It's fantastic that you've done so well for yourself."
"I just wish my father could be here right now," Dad says regretfully.
That makes Ford falter for a second. "Yes. I… Learning of that was… quite the blow."
There's a moment of heavy silence; then Dad looks at Grunkle Stan. "You know, I always used to wonder what happened to the science whiz Dad used to talk about. And you always told me you got older and got tired of it." By the end of the sentence his tone is reproachful.
"Hardly," Ford scoffs.
Grunkle Stan shrugs uncomfortably. "What can I say, kid? I had a lot of secrets to keep."
Dad shakes his head. "All this time…"
Ford leans forward in his seat, his eyes intent. "We can't change the past. Believe me, that's a lesson I've learned the hard way. Let's not waste our time regretting what's done—let's talk about our future!"
"We've been looking forward to having Dipper and Mabel this summer," Grunkle Stan says. "They're good kids."
"Wonderful children! You should be proud," Ford says (next to Dipper, Mabel puffs up with delight). "They truly helped me put my life back into perspective. And Dipper has taken such an interest in my work! He's extremely gifted, a natural scientist. Reminds me of myself at his age."
"Speaking of the kids," Mom says, throwing a chiding glance towards the stairs to show she's aware they're listening in, "they didn't say a word about any of this."
"Entirely at my—at our—behest," Ford assures her. "I wanted to meet and speak with you in person, both of you. You deserve nothing less."
"This was our mess and my lies," Grunkle Stan says. "You needed to hear it from me."
"Yes, don't punish the children for our deception. It was done with the best of intentions, and they did it for us."
"I LOVE YOU GRUNKLE STAN AND GRUNKLE FORD!" Mabel shouts down the stairs, making Pacifica jump.
"Indoor voices, Mabel," Ford calls back. "And we love you, as well."
"I wish we had been told a little sooner, but… it's good that the kids got to know you," Dad says. "I'd like to get to know you again, too."
Ford smiles. "I'd like nothing better."
"I'm still feeling a bit behind," Mom interjects politely but firmly.
Ford nods amiably. "Yes, I'd imagine so. I'm happy to answer any questions, provided they don't directly involve my classified research. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, it would be incredibly irresponsible for me to discuss the specifics of my work."
The conversation continues as both grunkles take turns spelling out a sanitized version of the twins' summer. Dipper stops listening so closely, slumping with relief. The worst part is over, he's pretty sure. Ford's appearance is obviously a tremendous shock, but his parents have handled it better than he did. A calm discussion in a living room is a better venue than a partially collapsed secret laboratory surrounded by government agents right after a cataclysmic anomaly, it turns out.
He knows there will be more questions and probably delayed anger in the days and even years to come. They don't seem that upset at Grunkle Stan, which just means the extent of his deception hasn't really set in yet. It had been different for Dipper because his loss of faith in Grunkle Stan had come before Great-Uncle Ford's reappearance, a side effect of the effort that rescue had required. And it was that successful restoration that had also restored Dipper's faith. For his parents, the events are simultaneous. They'll have a lot to sort through.
Still, as he listens to the adults talk it out, at least he knows it's on the path to being settled.
Except for, you know, the whole Weirdmageddon thing and all the harrowing realizations that come with it.
He'll just push that thought down and save it for a night spent staring at the ceiling.
Just after bedtime, he's lying on his sheets when Dad comes in and sits on the edge of the mattress. "Sounds like Uncle Ford's going to be teaching you some things," he comments.
Dipper grins in the dark. "He's so cool! He's like a scientist and an explorer, and he wants me to be his apprentice!"
"Sounds pretty exciting," Dad says.
If only he knew. "You should come up someday, to see the Shack," Dipper suggests, aware of all that might entail.
Dad nods. "I told Stan I'd like to see it. Maybe next year, huh?"
"Maybe next year," Dipper repeats. So many possible outcomes, good and bad.
Dad pats him on the knee and then stands up. "You should talk to your mom tomorrow, okay? She doesn't really know what to make of this."
"I know. Great-Uncle Ford coming back is really weird."
"Well, not just that. You're already growing up and now she finds out you want to be a scientist with your great-uncle. Makes her a little worried, you know. And excited for you, too. But why don't you talk to her, okay?"
"Yeah. Okay," Dipper says quietly.
Dad goes back to the door and pulls it halfway shut. "Night," he whispers.
"Night."
Dipper is left alone with his thoughts. They run in circles for a while and then he falls asleep thinking of a looming future that is as exciting as it is unknowable.