Chapter Text
When the search for Mabel was over and Mr. and Mrs. Pines reluctantly went back to Piedmont without their son, Stan was finally able to, after what felt like an eternity, start work on the portal again. He stayed up all through the night moving dislodged scraps of metal and cleaning nuclear waste so he was too tired to notice that Dipper didn’t say good morning when he came up to open the Mystery Shack. In the days that followed, Stan worked downstairs until his bones ached and and eyes burned and he often fell asleep on the cold stone floor of the portal room and awoke sore all over. Dipper was less talkative than normal, becoming reclusive and withdrawn. He began to avoid all conversation with Stan and spend his days outside by himself or cooped up in the attic. He poured over Ford’s journal even more than before. In spite of their best efforts, the many attempts by Soos or Wendy to talk to or cheer Dipper up had just resulted in a weak “thanks” or “I don’t feel like talking about it right now” and that was it. Despite the pesky fatigue that pulled a lingering fog into his mind, Stan took notice of this.
“How are you holding up, kid?” Stan tried one afternoon late in August.
“I’m fine.” Dipper deadpanned as he got out of his chair and walked out of the kitchen Stan had just entered.
Well, Dipper definitely didn’t seem fine to Stan.
When the boy returned to the Mystery Shack late that night, Stan was worried sick. What was worse, he tried to go straight up to the attic without so much as a glance at his grunkle. That obviously wasn’t going to fly with him so he followed him up the creaky stairs and called out to him before he could get to the door of his room.
“It’s late. Where were you?” Stan asked.
Dipper checked his watch.“It’s not that late. And It doesn’t matter.” He replied gloomily, his back to Stan.
The old man glanced at the clock on the wall that read 11:02 P.M. It wasn’t as late as the early hours of the morning he had often snuck home when he was around Dipper’s age but still, it was late.
“It does matter, I was worried about you, Dipper. I called Wendy and Soos and neither of them knew where you were and you never told me you were leaving. Remember when I told you I needed to keep you safe?”
“Yeah, like you kept Mabel safe?” The boy suddenly shot back, spinning around with fiery eyes.
Ouch. Dipper’ words stung like vinegar on an open wound. Stan’s face hardened and he put on his parenting voice. “All right, that’s enough. Grab your coat. We’re going for a drive.”
Oookay, so something is definitely not right. Stan thought.
Stan knew Dipper well enough to know he was a good kid and a logical one too. So there must have been a logical reason for his surprise outburst and Stan was going to find it with a good old fashioned man to man talk.
“No. I’m going to bed.” Dipper snapped.
“That wasn’t a request. Get. Your coat. I’ll be waiting for you in the car.”
And with that, Stan walked back downstairs before Dipper could spit anything else and stepped into the chilly night air. The El Diablo started up with a low rumble and Stan waited. These last few weeks had been hard for everyone, Dipper especially, and he worried about him. The distance the boy had put between himself and everyone else lately was a bad sign. With nervous energy, Stan wondered if he would be able to get through to Dipper tonight. Doubts leaked into his head, telling him he was making things worse for the kid and he should stop trying altogether. Send him home. He was better off that way.
Dipper opened the door to the back seat and climbed in without a word, his eyes to the floor. At least he had grabbed his coat. Stan adjusted his rearview mirror to get a better look at the kid and shifted into drive, going down Gopher Road. A tense silence filled the air in the old car.
“Alright Dipper, what’s going on in that head of yours?” Stan tried once he turned onto the main road, eyeing him from the mirror.
Nothing.
“Are you gonna talk to me?”
Silence.
Alright, so Dipper was being stubborn, what was new? The old man couldn’t help but be reminded of Ford the way the kid clammed up and gave him the cold shoulder. His heart twinged with aged, scarred pain. The two were so alike in the most heart breaking of ways. Growing up, whenever Ford had become upset with him there was explosive anger. Stan could deal with that, often defending himself with fire of his own. But then after that came the silent treatment and the cold indifference. That was what always really hurt him. Ford would come around eventually though, most of the time. Why would I want to do anything with the person who sabotaged my entire future? The image of curtains being closed on him as he was kicked to the curb flashed in his head. I’m selfish? How could you say that after costing me my dream school! Stan could still feel Ford’s hand shoving him down in the portal room after all these years. He chased the achy memories away. Point was, he couldn’t force Ford to open up to him and asking him to always led to his twin reclusing more. He had to wait for Ford to come to him when he was ready to apologize. So Dipper, he reasoned, must be the same.
Dark silhouettes of towering ancient trees encased them from both sides of the road when Stan now drove away from town and deeper into the supernatural forest once more. They passed with navy blur, melding one into another at the speed the vehicle went. Only the trees directly in front of them could be made out one from another, washed in a glow of yellow from the headlights. They were bathed in what was comparatively a tiny pinprick of light among the expansive forest for just a second before going back into hiding beyond the reach of the lights once more. Beyond that was only uniform blackness. Stan passed a glance at Dipper, who was now watching out the window sulkily. His eyes flicked to the mirror and caught Stan watching him from it and something in his face shifted slightly in anger. Then he went back to watching the forest, it all hidden in a sheet of darkness, out the window.
Huh. I suppose that means something but I ain’t no mind reader. Stan desperately wished he was right now, though. He was itching to say something, to apologize for everything and anything, to comfort Dipper, and vomit up all his swirling insecurities of worthless, worthless, Dipper thinks I’m worthless and I’m sorry in a waterfall of words. But he held his tongue and played his best poker face. He was doing this for Dipper. He needed to be strong for Dipper.
El Diablo pulled up into the deserted gravel parking lot of the lake. Not even Tate was there burning the midnight oil at his tackle shop. It was just them, the water, the crickets, and probably the odd gnome or two. The clear sky twinkled with a plethora of bright stars able to shine their best with the lack of light pollution. A full moon accompanied them high in the sky. Stan took in a deep breath of chilled night air as he stepped out of the car, the ground crunching beneath his feet.
“C’mon Dipper.” He deadpanned as he headed to the dock where the Stan O’ War was waiting.
Dipper begrudgingly slithered out of the car and slammed the door. He trailed after Stan, hands in his vest pockets and his face stony. Stan noticed cracks in this stone, though, ones filled with sorrow. He walked slowly down the dock, each step sending the echoes of creaking wood across the water, with his shoulders hunched. They reached the Stan O’ War, which was not much more than a rowboat.
“In the boat.” Stan commanded.
The boy began to turn away, “Grunkle Stan, I don’t wanna-”
Dipper yelped in alarm when Stan picked him up and plopped him down in the boat.
“I wasn’t asking.” He explained, sitting down across from Dipper and revving the engine. He steered them out into the middle of the lake, splitting a path down the middle of the mist that rested above the water like an icebreaker in arctic seas. Stan then cut the engine and waited.
“So…” He tried after some silence.
Dipper’s gaze was locked on Scuttlebutt island, refusing to look anywhere else. Another tense minute of unbearable silence passed. Alright, maybe this was a stupid idea after all. Maybe he shouldn’t have bothered in the first place because this was going nowhere and Dipper was so upset with him he wasn’t going to talk.
“Why’d you bring me out here?” Dipper mumbled.
Wait. Hang on a minute, his plan was working. “To figure out what’s going on with you, Dipper. This sulking, this-this bitterness, it isn’t you.”
Dipper only mumbled something incoherent and kept his eyes focused on the island. But then something happened, something Stan hadn’t seen before. A single tear escaped Dipper’s eye and reflected the white moonlight as it traveled down his cheek.
“Dipper…” Stan cooed.
“What? What’s it matter to you? You never cared enough to know where we were before and you didn’t care enough to tell us about the portal! Why does it suddenly matter how I’m feeling now?” Dipper yelled angrily.
Stan… was speechless, not something he often was. He opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish out of water. “Listen, Dipper. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you about the portal because I knew you would be curious. Just like I didn’t tell you about the anomalies or whatever Poindexter calls ‘em; because they’re dangerous. I was only trying to protect you and Mabel.”
“Yeah, well a whole lot of good that did you.”
Stan sighed, raspy and sad. He wasn’t going to get to the kid if he kept up with his sharp remarks. “You can quit it with the disrespect. I get enough of it from Wendy as is. I know you’re going through a hard time so what do you want me to do about it?”
“What I wanted was for you to tell me and Mabel about the portal in the first place! We could have helped! Mabel could still be here! And Ford!”
“Dipper, I saw my own brother disappear into that portal. So the last thing I wanted to do was to have you two and Soos down there too. I was scared you would disappear too! Have you ever thought about that?”
Oh. Dipper had to admit, Stan had made a pretty good point. The boy felt the stormy anger he had been nursing within himself over the last while dissipating just like that, gone. Any steam he had left was completely evaporated. Stan had lost his twin too. He didn’t want to lose anyone else so he kept the portal a secret to protect them. A decision made not out of neglect but of love. But that had backfired horribly. Dipper shifted his weight, cringing in shame, rocking the boat slightly and sending gentle ripples across the silver surface of the misty water.
“No. I didn’t think of that.” Dipper sniffed, turning away from Stan in chagrin for not seeing his side. “I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.”
Another few minutes of silence passed, this time a softer tone filled the space between them.
Stan coughed. “I hope you know that I am truly sorry. For everything. For Mabel and for you. And I’m doin’ my best here.”
“Apology accepted.” The boy confided in a broken voice.
Dipper’s cheeks and eyes suddenly felt hot and he felt another tear squeak past his mental defenses and roll down his face. But no, he couldn’t cry, not in front of Stan. He was a smart guy, and smart guys made plans, they didn’t cry. Besides, Mabel wouldn’t want him to be sad.
“You’re a tough one, Dipper, just like me. Stubborn as a mule, too.” Stan cleared his throat, “Y’know, my pa used to tell me that men didn’t cry and I believed him for a long while. But looking back, I realized that my old man was wrong about a lot of things, tears included. You can be a man and still cry. Heck, I cry all the time.” Stan chuckled sheepishly. “Point is, whatever it is you’re holding inside that smart mind of yours has gotta come out.”
Stan’s words penetrated all the way through the mental wall he had built himself like a missile to a house built of paper mache and it was all just suddenly just too much for him to bear. The tears came, plentiful and unrestricted. He began to sob heavily and uncontrollably, gripping the side of the boat for stability. Grunkle Stan stood and hobbled over, careful not to tip the boat and send them both toppling into the freezing water, to sit beside his great nephew and wrapped him in a hug with his gorilla-ish arms. Dipper cried freely for several minutes until his head swam and his vision dimmed and he thought he might pass out from lack of oxygen. It felt good to cry, it was like all his hurt and pain spilled out of him in liquid form. He took several deep breaths, his vision returning normal and tear blurred.
“You all done?” Stan asked once Dipper had calmed.
“I miss her.” Dipper squeaked.
Stan sniffed. “I miss her too.” He agreed with a broken voice.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” The boy breathed.
“Whadda ya mean?” Stan whispered over the soothing sound of the lake waves moseying against the wooden sides of the boat.
Dipper's eyes drifted to the stars.
“I-it’s our thirteenth birthday tomorrow and she’s not even here to celebrate it with me! What’s even the point if she’s not here? She always made our birthdays fun and magical and we celebrated together! But-but she’s not even here!” He ranted to the mist that lazily rested atop the navy water.
Of course, it was the twins' birthday tomorrow! He had known somewhere in the back of his mind that this day was coming up and had even prepared presents for his two niblings. It’s just, he hadn’t exactly been in the best frame of mind to keep track of things like dates right now. The end of the summer, or more specifically, the twins’ birthday, had crept up on him like a crouched lion and now it had just pounced. Stan kicked himself internally and tried to hide the guilty look that spread across his face. How could he have forgotten? Well, he did actually know how it could have slipped his mind. These last few weeks had been a depressing blur of nothing but monotonous days of going through the motions as Mr. Mystery by day and working on the portal well into the early morning hours every night and then getting out of bed a few hours later and doing it all over again. With Dipper now staying with him for at least the semester, there was no saying goodbye or bus ride home to stand out in his mind to connect with their birthdays. The endless, nothingness fog in his head had been refusing to leave, making it hard to think or really do anything. Every day was a hard fought battle and he retired to his bed more tired every time. Each morning, just getting out of bed became a more monumental task. He felt constantly tired and filled to the brim with nothing, like his brain had been replaced with a wad of cotton. Stan had told himself that he was okay, he had gone through this before and gotten out alive. The dull nothing hadn’t won then and it wasn’t going to win now. But as he sat there, watching Dipper cry over his twin and realizing he had forgotten their birthday, he questioned whether he really was okay. An old memory appeared in his mind. Back when Ford had first gone through the portal and the overbearing emptiness was his only companion, he had hit a major roadblock in the portal’s reconstruction that he didn’t think he could fix. He had spent the rest of the day debating whether or not he should finally put the glock he stored in El Diablo’s glove compartment to good use. Ultimately, he had chickened out, and Stan was grateful for that every day. He was starting to go down that path now, he realized. He couldn’t be doing that. He had a mouth to feed and people who cared about him and would miss him if he was gone. It was obvious enough that Dipper needed to be checked up on, that was what he was doing right now. But he also needed to check up on himself if this was going to work. Self care Mabel had called it.
“I miss her.” He sniffed, allowing warm tears to steak down his cheeks and off his lips. “I-I just-”
“-miss him so much!” Mabel wailed into Ford’s coat.
A full, ringed moon and foreign stars twinkled overhead like a blanket over their firelit campsite in the mouth of a cave nestled in a rocky outcropping far from civilization in a distant dimension. Their fire crackled blue and red and Ford stared into it, unsure of exactly how to help his great niece. Just hours before, she had seemed alright. They were taking a break from their travels to set up camp and sleep and she was more or less her normal self, perhaps a bit quiet. But then once the sun had set she grew terribly withdrawn and even anxious. As it had turned out, Mabel had been keeping track of the time on Earth and tomorrow was the twins’ birthday. The poor girl had been distraught telling him this and had dissolved into a mess of blubbering and tears, where she now sobbed into his side.
Ford did the only thing he could think to do and wrapped her in a tight and cozy hug. She took solace in his embrace and nestled in closer to him.
“Our bi-birthday is sup-posed to be the best day o-of the year where we can spend the who-ole thing together and celebrate each other and be with people we love and g-get presents. We’re going to be-e teenagers tonight and we’re not even in the same dimension.”
Wet and warm streaks flowed freely down her face and soaked into Ford’s sweater. He looked down at her, full of sadness, unsure as to what to do. Roll with the punches a tiny voice reminded him in his head. He was trying but man was it difficult. So he said nothing and just held the girl.
Mabel spoke up again after several minutes of silence, “It just sucks. Y’know. Like a lot.” She shivered, wanting nothing more right now than to be snug in her bed at home in Gravity Falls with Waddles sleeping at her feet and Dipper reading away deep into the night.
“I can only imagine.” Ford agreed softly.
“It’s probably around midnight back home on Earth now, it’s our birthday.” Mabel informed sorrowfully.
“How do you know?” Ford responded as gently as he could.
“I have an amazing internal clock. It’s one of my superpowers.” She laughed shakily. The half hearted smile that had appeared on her face when she spoke returned to a quivering frown.
“I just wish he was here.” Mabel whispered, pondering among the stars. A small part of her told her there was no use being sad. She belonged to the Multiverse now and needed to be as tough as it was to live. But the rest of her told her, no, it was okay to be sad about Dipper. She was able to be tough and sad at the same time.
Several more minutes of silence passed and Mabel grew so still that Ford began to think she had fallen asleep beside him. He listened to the night wind and the way it whistled outside their natural shelter, looking out at the landscape beyond. The walls within their little cave were cast in eerie shadows, from places the blue-red light of the dying flames didn’t reach or reflect. The girl suddenly shifted at his side and sighed gloomily.
“I wish I had a present to give him. Y’know, like a “I’m not here right now but here’s something to remind you of me” type of thing.” She mumbled glumly.
An idea sprung into Ford’s head all of the sudden. No, no, no, that wouldn’t be appropriate now. Would it? He had no idea. What he did know is that he wanted to help Mabel and so far all he had done was just hold her. That was a start, yes, but he could do better. He was better than that. Well, here goes nothing.
“I actually have a birthday present for you, dear.” Ford murmured quite unconfidently.
The girl looked up at him with some amazement mixing into her otherwise miserable eyes. “Really? You do? Can I open it?” She wowed.
“Um, yes. One moment, I’ll go fetch it.”
Ford stood and walked a few short steps over to his pack and dug out a black sac about the size of a small grocery bag. Mabel stood and gingerly took the bag from his hands, her expression one of wonder. With great care, she pulled on the draw strings to reveal needles and thread, several embroidery hoops, a small pair of sewing scissors, squares of white fabric, and a book on embroidery. He had gotten her an embroidery kit.
“I know it’s not the same as knitting, but it’s lightweight, compact, and will be a way for you to express yourself creatively despite our nomadic lifestyle.” Ford explained sheepishly.
Mabel looked at the fabric, hoop, and colorful thread in her hands with a wide smile and wrapped her arms around Grunkle Ford in a gentle hug.
“I love it. Grunkle Ford, thank you.” The girl whispered with both joy and lingering sadness.
“You’re very welcome.” He articulated somewhat surprised.
Mabel ended her embrace and went to her own pack, taking out a red bandana. “I can embroider patterns onto my bandanas. Just like my sweaters.”
“Yes, that was more or less the idea I had in mind too.” Ford smiled.
“I betcha I could embroider Dipper onto one of these.” Mabel noted, opening the book and sitting down cross legged.
She placed her red bandana into the embroidery hoop and threaded her needle with pink thread and did her best to smile. But Ford saw the pain still in her eyes. The poor thing. In his opinion, Mabel had taken the fact that she was sucked up through a multiversal portal very well. Despite her circ*mstances, and the mournful night it had been for her, he was proud of her. She had grown a lot already.
“Oh, you also have a gift from Katee.” Ford informed her.
Mabel’s hand went to the bell that hung from her neck. “You mean she has another one for me?”
“Precisely.” He affirmed, handing Mabel something hidden in a black sac that was about two thirds her own height.
She set the gift down on the ground and opened the bag from the far end, pulling the object out. What Mabel held in her hands was an expertly handcrafted wooden crossbow in beautiful shades of bubblegum pink and baby blue. The weapon looked as though it must have taken many hours to make. Along with it came a full-grain leather hip quiver full of perfectly straight arrows tipped with diverse colors of a glossy, glass like crystal knapped into deadly points with breathtaking iridescent feathers making up the fletching. Mabel gaped at the gift, utterly blown away. Nobody had ever given her something so extravagant and nice in her entire life; not for any birthday or Hanukkah or Christmas. Katee had killed her with kindness and giving spirit twice now and had officially upped her in the goodness department. The teen girl would have to get her kindness revenge next time she saw the dino. There was a note that came with the quiver, written in some alien text Mabel had just begun learning from Grunkle Ford. She couldn’t pick out the majority of it.
“Grunkle Ford, look she wrote me a letter. Can you read it for me?” She asked quietly, holding out the parchment to Ford.
Ford took the paper and began looking it over.
“Well, are you gonna read it?” Mabel questioned after some silence.
“I am reading it.”
Mabel laughed. “No, outloud you silly. Read it to me.”
“Oh, ahem.”
Dear Mabel (and Ford too I guess),
Happy birthday! I miss you so much! Now, you may be wondering what the heck I’m thinking giving you a deadly weapon for your birthday. Well, I’m proud to tell you it’s because you have a fighting spirit, Mabel. You fight for what’s right despite the cost or consequences. I hope you use this weapon for that very purpose. We’ll meet again. Stay safe.
- Katee
“That’s it.” Ford finished, handing the letter back to Mabel.
She looked over the unfamiliar text again and again, basking in the warmth the tenderly written characters gave her heart that had otherwise been rather cold and weepy all night. A six fingered hand enveloped her shoulder and she drew her eyes up into Ford’s.
“Come along, it’s late. Let’s get to sleep. We have another full day of travel ahead of us tomorrow.” He nudged, hoping that Mabel would now lay down to rest happier.
The teen girl sighed, “Alright.” The truth was, she didn’t want to sleep just yet. That would mean when she woke it would be the day of her and her twin’s birthday. But she did as she was told, laying out her bedroll with her crossbow beside her as Ford stamped out the fire. Her thoughts drifted to Dipper yet again in the dimness when she wrapped her cloak around herself like a makeshift blanket. From across the pit of now ash and embers, Ford lay.
“...Grunkle Ford?”
“Yes, Mabel?”
“Was it hard for you to be away from your family out here?”
“Yes, it was very hard. I miss my ma very much.”
“And Stan?”
There was a beat of silence. “...And Stan.” Ford reluctantly said.
“Good.” There were a few more moments of silence. Mabel turned and gazed up at the cave ceiling. “I hope Dipper’s okay. I wonder what he’s-”
“-she’s doing right now.” Dipper pondered, eyes now dry. “We’ve never been apart for this long.”
“I’m sure she’s okay. That sister of yours can take on anything. Plus, chances are she’s probably with Poindexter ‘cuz that portal spits them out to the same place if my research is correct.”
I miss ya, Ford. Stan thought.
“Yeah, that’s true. Can I come help yet?”
“No. I’ve still got a pipe leaking ridiculous amounts of radioactive waste.”
Dipper said nothing and just frowned.
“I’m gettin’ real close though. Maybe another day or two and I’ll let you down.”
The boy’s face lit up bright enough to attract moths. “You mean it?”
“Mm-hm.”
Dipper basked in the excitement of being able to go down and work on the portal soon. But then his expression turned somewhat sheepish. “...I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was today. Honestly, I was out looking for Crash Site Omega from the journal. I know we’ll probably need replacement parts from it.”
Stan rubbed his chin in thought. “Thank you for telling me, Dipper. But let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, yeah? I don’t wanna go hiking around if I don’t have to.”
“Alright Grunkle Stan.”
“Good. You ready to go back yet? My hands are gettin’ cold.”
“Yeah, I’m ready to head back now.” He mumbled, glancing at his watch. It was nearly midnight. Nearly August 31st. He and Mabel were mere minutes away from being teenagers.
With a grunt, Stan started up the engine once more and brought the two of them through the still waters back onto the dock, the weight of their footsteps creaking the ancient wooden thing. Dipper checked his watch. His heart skipped a beat when it read 00:02, August 31st. It was past midnight. They were now officially thirteen years old. It should have filled him with hope and wonder. He should have been ecstatic to achieve such a thing and at the possibilities on the horizon. Instead he just felt cold and void, like a black hole had taken the place of his heart and just sat there heavy in his chest. He ached for Mabel, wanting to celebrate this moment with her.
“Happy birthday, Mabel.” Dipper whispered, looking up into the expansive, star-touched sky. His voice was a beacon, sending a signal out into the unknown, hoping his recipient got his message.
From the mouth of a black cave dimensions away, across millions of galaxies and billions of miles of space, Mabel Pines could not hear her twin’s muttered celebration. But that didn’t stop her from speaking her own, like a signal flare that reached out into the darkness, hoping for a response.
“Happy birthday, Dipper.”
