Mabel doubles over on the floor, clutching Dipper's hat close to her chest. She feels like she drank seventeen shots of Mabel Juice, her heart skipping several beats and threatening to leap out her chest. The sounds she can make out around her are fizzling in and out, though she's aware of the constant, repetitive way that she sobs out Dipper's name, almost as if speaking his name into existence will bring him back to her, like some incantation or secret code.

When the portal powers down, Mabel shakily rises, watching a shrouded figure emerge from the same device that took her twin and grunkle. The figure reaches toward the ground, a six-fingered hand splaying across the cover of one of the journals, moving to pocket it in his long overcoat.

The man removes his hood and facial covering, leaving Mabel gawking at a near exact copy of her Grunkle Stan — if not a tad more rugged, fit, and stylish.

"Grunkle Stan?" Mabel tries anyway, inaudibly, her throat closing up as she begins to come to terms with their situation. Some deeper part of her knows that it can't be Stan — not even some freakish, parallel dimension version of him. The man in front of her now doesn't carry her grunkle's gruffness or mirror his secret soft side. He looks… reserved, and yet larger-than-life, barely sparing them more than a passing glance as he looks around, scoping out his surroundings with an air of familiarity.

Finally, he approaches her, lowering himself down onto one knee.

"Greetings, my name is Ford," the man says, extending his hand out toward her. His brow furrows as he looks between her and Soos. "Is this… Dimension 46'\?" he asks, unsure.

Mabel allows him to take the hand that's not currently white-knuckling Dipper's hat. Confusion temporarily dries out her eyes, already shed tears tacky against her flushed cheeks. "What? I don't know! My name is Mabel Pines," she says, letting go of his hand and fisting the lapels of his coat, yanking him forward. "My brother and grunkle were just sucked through that portal!"

The man — Ford, he had said — startles back, though it isn't her outburst that rattles him. "Did you say Pines?"

Soos approaches from behind, hesitantly so, placing a strong, supportive hand on her shoulder. "Mabel, dog, I don't know if—"

Mabel brushes Soos off, a sob slipping out as she begins to ramble. "Yes! My brother's name is Dipper Pines and my grunkle's name is Stanford Pines. They went through that… that thing! Can you help?! You look like him, my grunkle! And you have six fingers, like the cover of the journal Dipper's been reading all summer! Does that mean that you're—"

Ford grabs onto her shoulders, his expression so intense that it ushers fresh tears to her eyes. "Mabel, listen, this is gravely serious. Who restarted the portal?"

"My great-uncle! Stan!" Mabel cries. "Dipper, Soos, and I didn't even know it existed until today! Dipper told me to shut it down… t-to press the button. But Grunkle Stan, he– he looked so sad, and I trusted him! He said he was doing it for our family and that… he was going to explain…"

Mabel would've fallen back down to her knees by now if not for Ford bracing her shoulders and keeping her upright. She sobs, choking on tears. "And you have to help because you're the 'Author of the Journals,' right?! That means you have to know how to power it back on!

"Right?! Tell me you can power it back on!"

Ford stays quiet, grimacing.

Mabel's hands shoot toward her hair, Dipper's hat still clutched in one hand, tugging at her unruly curls. "Was I wrong? Should I have pressed it?"

Soos takes one step forward, his eyes clouded with something pained. He looks to be coming close to something resembling… acceptance.

No.

Even this sci-fi rip-off of her Grunkle Stan pulls back, his no-nonsense expression melting away. "Mabel—"

She shrugs him off, too, beelining for the shutdown button.

She presses it. Again. And again. And—

"Mabel!" Soos says, and now he's embracing her from behind, trying to guide her away from the button.

Mabel fights back, wrapping her arms around the pole and anchoring herself to the spot. She'll go down kicking and screaming if she has to. It has to work. She has to bring them back.

It's all her fault. If she had just listened to Dipper and shut it down when he first asked, then he'd be here and none of this would be happening. And Grunkle Stan would be here too, even if he ended up hating her for it, and she wouldn't be alone with this stranger who wears his face.

Her hand continues to slam over the button, the light that had once illuminated it now dead and dull. Completely dormant.

Suddenly, the weathered, tense stranger is in front of her, placing his six-fingered hand atop hers, resting over the shutdown button. "Okay!" he says. "I'll– I'll restart the portal."

Mabel pauses, her hand still clutching the device, tears running down her neck.

"You will?"

"Yes. In time." His eyes are wide, something vaguely sympathetic reflected in his expression. It's gone as quick as it came. He removes his hand, stepping away from the button to face Soos, wordlessly declaring him Mabel's de facto guardian.

"Now, is there anyone else who knows about this portal's existence?"

Soos fidgets awkwardly, his eyes watery, now, too. "Uh, that depends on if those government guys are still out looking for Stan."

"Government… Guys?" Ford curses under his breath.

"Yeah! They arrested Stan earlier this morning for stealing radioactive waste! Agents were searching the shack all day for a 'doomsday device,'" Mabel explains, wiping her eyes, reinvigorated by her slowly forming plan.

She can practically feel the gears turning in her head. This man is the author of the journals. He'll rebuild that portal in no time. But, first, they'll need to get rid of those agents.

Ford seems to lack Mabel's foresight and imaginative mind. She's already set on picturing all one-thousand ways they can get the law off their back, courtesy of hearing Stan's less-than-legal stories and unabashed criminal advice all summer, while he still seems stuck on the news of Stan's arrest.

He palms his face, sighing heavily. "Dammit, Stanley."

Mabel cocks her head. "Stanley? My grunkle's name is Stanford."

"That's my name. My twin brother's name is Stanley. I can only assume he took my name and rebuilt my portal to bring me back into this dimension. What I can't begin to understand is why he brought children down here while doing so. I was extremely clear about the danger of—"

"Twin brother?" Mabel interrupts, gawking.

That seems to get Ford's attention. "Yes, I—" he pauses, thinking, finally considering Mabel's relation to him.

They both seem to make the connection at the same time.

"Who did you say my brother is to you again?" he asks.

"My great-uncle," she says. "Which I guess makes you also… that." If only Dipper could see her now, standing in front of the author of the journals. Their grunkle.

"I have a niece?" Ford asks, his eyes brightening some.

Mabel shakes herself from her reverie. She can act all crazy and fangirl about it with Dipper when he's back in this dimension. "You have a nephew, too! He went through that portal, remember?"

She gestures wildly toward the portal, several pieces loosening from their positions and falling to the ground, the whole structure creaking as metal beams destabilize. "Anyone?! Giant portal thing! Took my brother and grunkle! Remember that?!" Mabel shrieks, fisting her hands in her hair again, meeting Soos' eyes like a rabid, feral cat, or gnome, or something.

She feels like she might actually go crazy. Like, Old Man McGucket crazy, living in the dump and sucking face with raccoons all day. She can't have this normal, banal conversation about family trees and whatnot. Not when Dipper and Grunkle Stan could be in trouble. When they could need her.

"I'm trying to understand the magnitude of the situation we're in—"

"The magnitude is that your family is in another dimension! You were in there, where does it lead? Where are they right now?!"

Ford pales. He doesn't answer for a long, uncomfortably quiet moment. "They'll be fine…" he says. He doesn't elaborate further.

Mabel wastes no time, rapid-firing all of her questions at him. "I have so many questions! Why did Grunkle Stan never tell us about you? Why did he change his name? What were you doing in that portal? Why is it even here?!"

"Slow down," Ford says, holding out his hands. "Now, I'm sorry you kids got dragged into this, and I will tell you everything you want to know, but we have to find a way to keep those government agents from finding this portal. If it gets into the wrong hands…"

She can't have that. If Ford is going to help her restart the portal, she has to make sure that no one is around to sabotage it. Mabel thinks, putting Dipper's hat on her head to free her hands. She paces along the cement, red eyes scouring the ground.

She spots Dipper's bag on the floor, contents spread across the cement. A glass bulb peeks out at her.

"What about the memory gun?!" Mabel says, running toward the bag. She lifts it up. "Maybe we can make them forget!"

Ford pads over to her, reaching for it. "Good thinking! I don't know how you got a hold of one of these, but this is perfect!"

He rushes toward the control area, and Mabel is right on his tail, watching his every move.

Mabel peers into the binocular viewing glasses, watching as agents run toward the shack's entrance. "Ford! They're right outside!"

"No matter," Ford says, gesturing for her to step aside. She moves to his left, watching as he works. "I can just amplify the signal to a radio headset frequency…"

He plugs multiple wires into the gun, watching as the agents run toward the shack. "There! Now everyone PLUG YOUR EARS! GET DOWN! NOW!"

Soos, Mabel, and Ford crouch down, palms splayed over their ears as the memory gun's airwaves reverberate through the atmosphere, the ground shaking beneath their feet.

She presses hard. She saw what the memory gun did to McGucket's mind. She can't risk the same happening to her. Or, worse, forgetting Dipper and Grunkle Stan entirely.

It feels like the gun's shockwaves will never stop, that she'll find herself crouched down in this small, tight ball for the rest of eternity. But, soon enough, Ford stands up, dusting off his coat as he makes his way toward the elevator.

She releases her panicked hold around her ears. "What are you doing?"

"Getting rid of them," Ford says, propping his giant, futuristic gun up against the wall. "Stay down here. Guard the portal."

And, just like that, he's gone. The elevator doors shut and they're bathed in perpetual darkness.

"Soos?"

His voice is distant and equally shell-shocked. "Yeah, Mabel?"

She pales, clawing for the trash can underneath the desk. "I think I'm gonna be sick—"

When Ford returns, Mabel ends up speaking first, explaining what she knows of Stan's life. The Mystery Shack. Mr. Mystery. The fake IDs they found and an article reporting his death. His practically non-existent relationship with their extended family and his oldest brother, Shermie, her grandpa. Visiting him this summer and living in the shack. Their adventures. The man that she knows, regardless of what those agents or even Ford have urged her to believe.

And after, Ford begins to pace the basement floor, watching as they stare up at him from their seats, mouths agape as he recounts his own life story. He rambles on, almost frantically so, as if he's searching for some kind of explanation himself. Like saying it out loud will make this all make sense, somehow.

There are times where he skips over large portions of history and Mabel has to chime in with a question or two. Ford responds to them, absently, seamlessly fitting his answers in with the flow of his story, not spending much time focused on them.

Mabel tries her best not to look at the portal as she listens. When it does capture her attention, she feels as if she's staring into the jaws of a large beast, one that has swallowed her family whole. Even still, she's almost expecting Dipper to come barreling out from the other side of it. She imagines he'd be a little disheveled, a little anxious, but would still run into her arms, chuckling with panicked relief.

Nothing a little sleep can't fix.

She would bombard him with apologies and awkward sibling hugs and never, ever make fun of his stupid books or crazy conspiracies ever again.

And Stan would be tall and sturdy behind him. He'd look like he did the day he punched that dinosaur in the face, angry and determined and strong. He would call her pumpkin and explain his story, his side of things, and Mabel would forgive him in a heartbeat.

"Mabel," Ford says a tad too sharply, snapping her back to reality, continuing his story when her gaze lands back on him.

He continues. Dream colleges. Broken science fair projects. One twin kicked to the curb. One off to college. Making it to Gravity Falls.

When Ford finishes, Soos and Mabel sport matching expressions of shock. Soos half-heartedly mutters something about a fanfic he's been writing, wedging a rock into the sole of his shoe.

Mabel rises from her seat. She approaches shyly, feeling small in his large shadow. Muted anger hangs over him like an invisible cloak, sending the hairs on her arm standing on end.

Her voice is small when she speaks, but it's as sturdy and resolved as ever. "How long were you gone?"

He doesn't answer, suddenly falling silent as he glares down at his shoes as if they're the most interesting thing in the world.

Mabel tries again. She's not quiet this time. "How long?"

Ford looks up. "Thirty years."

Mabel steps back, legs trembling beneath her. The edges of her vision darken, like she's placed a vignette filter in front of her eyes. Her hearing swims too, muted and dull, and she wonders for a second if this is what dying feels like.

Until, two impossibly large hands wrap around her biceps, keeping her upright. The touch grounds her.

"Hey, hey," a voice says, guiding her to sit back down. "Mabel—"

Her vision clears a bit and she finds herself shooting daggers into the shoes of the man in front of her.

"I can't wait thirty years," she says at a whisper. She couldn't even spend a night in her own room without Dipper this summer.

"I'm not saying that," Ford says, crouching down to her level, refusing to make direct eye contact. "That was Stan. I am the one who made the portal in the first place."

Mabel sucks in a deep breath, most of her senses returning to her. "So?" she says. "What are you saying?"

"That it wouldn't take thirty years," he says, his brown eyes still avoiding hers. "Just give me a little bit of time to figure it out."

"You promise?" she says, extending a pinky.

He extends his. "Promise."

The moments after their pinkies intertwine are quiet. Mabel mainly tries to focus on her breathing, avoiding the portal's gaze at all costs. Her pulse seems to have leveled out, but with the anxiety gone, a heaviness manifests, weighing her whole body down. She feels like she's just run through the woods, or fought a bunch of gnomes — feeling the aching of muscles she didn't even know she had.

The adrenaline that had once surged through her veins is gone. Her thoughts trickle like raindrops down a car window, sluggish and directionless. All she wants is to collapse in her bed, to finally let sleep take her, but it feels out of reach. Like Dipper. Like Grunkle Stan.

Ford ends up being the one to break the silence. "In the meantime, you should get some sleep. Both of you. I'll stay down here and see what we're dealing with, portal-wise."

Mabel nods. She looks at the portal again, against her better judgment, finally working up the courage to ask what they all must be thinking. "What are we gonna tell my parents?"

Ford stills, his eyes pensive. He stands up from his crouched position. "We'll… sort that out in the morning."

Mabel stands too, grabbing onto Soos' arm. The handyman places a hand on her back, there in case she needs him.

She faces Ford again, feeling hope surge in her chest for the first time today. This man is her grunkle. And the author of the journals. And he's promised to help her. To bring their brothers back.

She lets go of Soos, running toward Ford, practically launching herself into his arms and trapping him in a bear hug.

The man makes a startled noise, stumbling backwards a few steps, barely having time to react before her arms come flying around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. For a second, it's like he doesn't know whether to push away or return the gesture, his arms hovering awkwardly in the air.

Finally, he relents, exhaling as he embraces her too, his arms wrapping around her.

"Thank you, Grunkle Ford."

He has a stronger reaction to the name than he did to the hug, his chest stilling as he stops breathing entirely. To his credit, he recovers quickly, pulling back.

He nods, offering her a small smile.

Mabel returns it. She allows herself to slip back into her optimistic side, her brain already going three-thousand miles a minute. She adjusts Dipper's hat to fit more snugly on her head.

She's not going to sleep. Not tonight. Not anytime soon. She'll whip up a couple batches of Mabel Juice. She'll ask Soos to spend the night. She'll call Wendy over. They'll spend the night planning and preparing.

Operation Get Dipper and Stan Back is a go.

She'll workshop the title later.

August 5,

Against all odds, I'm back.

I never thought in a thousand years that I would hold this book again. The weight of it in my hands and the smell of its parchment whisks my memory back to the tragic incident that forever changed my life.

Although I was not around to record it, 30 years ago I got into a fight with my brother and was knocked through my very own interdimensional portal into a universe beyond imagination.

The last three decades have been frightening, exciting, cruel, and strange, and as I find myself back in my own study, writing in my old journal, it is hard to shake the feeling that I have awoken from a bizarre 30-year dream, only to be plunged into a nightmare instead.

Upon my immediate return, I found myself in the presence of two strangers, a small, unruly-haired child and a being that appeared to resemble one of the hairless gopher people of the dimension Rodentus 7. I was shocked to discover that he is actually a human adult man, and the child, my great-niece.

With my brother nowhere to be found, I had briefly considered the possibility that I had not returned to my home dimension at all, and that perhaps I had stumbled upon an alternate, parallel dimension mirroring my own reality. In the thick of my interdimensional adventures, I often wondered how I might react if Stanley and I ever reunited, face-to-face. Would my grudges and resentment overpower all logic and reason in the end? Would I punch him? Would we embrace?

The thought-experiment I had tortured myself with all those years proved itself nugatory. Mabel grabbed me by the coat, informing me that my brother (whom she is insistent on referring to as her "grunkle") and her twin, Dipper, had been pulled into the portal moments before I had exited it.

It turns out that despite my warnings and the possibility of global catastrophe, Stanley managed to re-activate the portal and bring me back to my home dimension. While his intentions might have been pure, he was just as careless bringing me back as he was knocking me through it in the first place, and he has ruined two more lives in doing so.

He destroyed the portal in the process, though I assured Mabel that it is not incapable of repair. S risked endangering the entire fabric of reality, sucked himself and his great-nephew through, and even found himself the target of a federal manhunt by the U.S. government (a logical progression from his days in the principal's office).

If it weren't for Fiddleford's memory ray, I'd likely be writing from some secret government prison by now. Fortunately, as far as the government is concerned, our encounter never happened. (Trigger and Powers will likely get déjà vu the next time they hear the words "Gravity Falls," and probably nothing more).

But, unfortunately, a more pressing and salient issue presents itself. My brother seems to have taken not only 30 years in my home dimension from me, but also my name, likeliness, and life. As such, it seems I am the sole party responsible (and liable) for the children.

Despite my name being the one stolen, I am expected to conduct all future phone calls and interactions using my brother's personality, voice, and demeanor. The last time I interacted with my brother, he was a grifting drifter, possibly criminally at large. Not eager to portray myself in such a manner, I emulated the Stanley that Mabel recounted to me as I spoke to the twins' parents. She described my responsibility-averse brother as some family man who made time for fishing trips and weekly phone calls home in-between scamming tourists at what he dubbed "The Mystery Shack," a crude mockery of my lab and my life's work. I often forget that Stanley's lies aren't apparent to all. Only to those who can spot his many tells.

The phone call to Mabel and Dipper's parents went about as well as can be expected.

I am in no way accustomed to dealing with children, but I am especially inexperienced in communicating with parents. The children's parents were distraught. I remained quiet as I listened to their criticisms, cries, and curses—ones that I could not begin to refute. This is my brother's doing, but as far as the world is concerned, I am to blame. They have every right to speak those words against Stanley. My only objection is that I stand as the target.

Though, I must take some blame. It was, of course, my deal with Him and my trusting nature that led to the portal's construction to begin with. My blindy-placed faith in S came over me during those fretful days, when I was at my wits end, eager to have an ally amidst Bill's threats. In the end, I stand alone, my resolve to defeat Bill all-consuming.

Regardless, Mabel and I crafted a suitable story that should absolve us of criminal fault or suspicion. The local law enforcement of Gravity Falls is, of course, familiar with children, adults, and animals going missing in the unpredictable, unexplainable wilderness, but Mabel's parents are not as easily assuaged. To strengthen our case, 'Dipper' and Mabel's closest confidants have joined in to corroborate our story—Soos, shack handyman and my brother's footstool, and Wendy Corduroy, direct descendant of Boyish Dan. A web was quickly weaved, a story of how Mabel, Wendy, and Dipper went exploring the woods—the boy disappearing under their noses as they were distracted by other pursuits.

A search broke out shortly after our report. I haven't seen the denizens of Gravity Falls turn up in such large numbers since the last dreaded Pioneer Day. We scoured every square inch of forest for the boy. At the end of it all, days later, I was so exhausted from days of searching and my 30 years of interdimensional travel that I began to nearly expect to find the boy myself, exploring a ravine or scaling a large, spindly pine tree. Regrettably, and obviously-so, no such discoveries were made.

Evidently, Mabel is expected to return to her hometown of Piedmont, California at once. I assured her that I will continue to work on the portal endlessly until she is permitted to return to Gravity Falls. She will discover the truth in time, but at least I can give her time to adjust to her new reality before breaking the news. I cannot and will not let Him into this domain. Not even for Stanley.

I plan on disassembling the portal as soon as Mabel leaves my lab. I know what must be done, though it is my deepest regret that children — my own flesh and blood — have been roped into this.

Ultimately, the blame is on Stanley.

I fear the sayings are true. A drowning man will always drag those closest to him down with him.

yeesh, things on mabel's side of the portal are gonna get wayy worse before they get better. we meet back up with stan and dipper next chapter! [chapter song: the mind electric by miracle musical (i know you've seen the edits)]