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Ford was disappointed to find that it took just about a week for his nightmares to return once he came back to Gravity Falls for the summer. He supposed it wasn’t that surprising; after spending about ten years in Gravity Falls with the constant fear that he was going to be tortured or killed, he found that the more time he spent away from that town, the more his paranoia decreased. Now that he was back, he found himself longing to travel once again. It wasn’t like he disliked the kids or no longer had any interest in the mysteries of Gravity Falls, but getting out and seeing the world with Stanley, a childhood dream the both of them figured they’d never achieve, was something he wanted to spend more time on. Besides, they still had quite a few summers left, and the kids did too, so what was the problem? Regardless, he had promised Stan that they’d come back for the summer. It was a request he simply couldn’t say no to. As much as he loved spending time alone with Stan, he simply couldn’t be the only one in his life. While Stan had regained most of his memories with the kids, his memory could still be a little shaky; after all, he had only a scrapbook and about a week to remember an entire summer with them. There was no way he’d be able to remember everything in that sparse amount of time! While Gravity Falls still left a bitter taste in his mouth, Ford complied with his brother’s request. A new summer of happy memories would be good for him.
And if he was honest, Ford had missed the kids, too. Especially Dipper. The kid had shown up on the first day of summer break with three brand new notebooks in hand, eagerly asking Ford if he’d be willing to recreate the first set- but this time, as a team. His enthusiasm about the abnormal warmed his heart. When Ford was in Gravity Falls the first time, his confidence- and sanity, for that matter- had wavered quite substantially after meeting quite a few downright terrifying monsters. But after facing the creature that had tormented Ford for most of his life, Dipper was still eager to learn about the mysteries of the world. It was simply astounding, and he was happy to know that the generations after him were brave and still just as eager to learn even in the face of danger. He was excited to work with Dipper. He just really hoped he didn’t get himself into too much danger. He did worry about that quite a bit. Dipper had told him about some of the anomalies of Gravity Falls that he had interacted with last summer, and quite frankly he was amazed that Dipper was still willing to come back here at all.
After Ford had awoken in a panic, he had taken to wandering the halls of the Mystery Shack in the hopes of calming his nerves. On the bright side, he had dreamt about the shape shifter. It was a nice break from the constant dreams of Bill torturing him- or worse, hurting the kids or Stanley. However, the shape shifter had always left him with a terrible sense of unease. That thing could be tricky; and it certainly didn’t need any of Bill’s help to mess with his head. The shape shifter could be anything it wanted; there were quite a few times it had turned into friends just to trick him, and there were even times when it had transformed into himself and tried to kill him, truly making him wonder if he was the shape shifter or not. If there was anything good about Bill, it was that he always made himself known sooner or later. Egomaniac loved having his victims know it was him messing with them. With the shape shifter, it could be anything from a book on the ground to his friends or even his family.
At that rather disturbing thought, Ford heard a small creak in the darkness of the shack. He immediately stopped in his tracks, and turned around, looking for the source of the noise. He had left all the lights off so as to ease his worries of being detected, but he still could hardly make out his surroundings. He took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to calm himself. If something was after him he had to remain calm. If he became a shaking mess, how could he possibly defend himself?
He heard the creak again, and more followed after it. Whatever was coming after him was descending the stairs at this very moment! He moved beside the staircase and held his breath; hopefully he’d be able to catch it off guard. Finally, it stepped down the final step and, without a moment to waste, Ford flipped on the light and pulled out the gun he always had on him and pointed it at… his grandniece, who fell back against the stairs in surprise.
“G-great Uncle Ford?” She stammered, staring back at him with wide, frightened eyes.
“Mabel?” It was then that Ford remembered what Dipper had told him: that last summer, he had trapped the shape shifter back in the bunker, far, far away from here. There was no way this Mabel could be an impostor.
Probably.
“Mabel!” He repeated, putting his weapon away. “I’m so sorry, I thought… Never mind. Are you all right?” He didn’t quite know how to explain to her why he had just done that. He had a difficult enough time talking to her as it was! He nervously extended his hand out to her and helped her up.
“I’m fine.” Mabel replied, dusting off her nightgown. She still looked a little nervous, but if there was one thing he knew about Mabel, it was that she tended to bounce back from things quickly. “Great Uncle Ford, are you okay?”
“What are you doing up, Mabel?” He didn’t want to talk to her. Not about this, at least. Mabel was kind, and quite the optimist; but he simply had a hard time holding a serious conversation with her. She was just… too silly. From what he could tell, she was the most oblivious member of his family. The least experienced with the abnormal, but the least effected by it. In fact, after Weirdmaggedon had occurred, she had completely reverted back to her energetic self as soon as Stan’s memory had been restored while Dipper had seemed shaken up for days. She simply wouldn’t be able to help him here; the two of them just had too little in common. There was just no way she could understand him.
“I was gonna get a glass of water.” She paused and looked up at him with a childish glare. “And what gives? You didn’t answer my question.”
“Mabel, go to bed.” He replied curtly.
“But-”
“I want to be alone, okay?”
“Oh come on! No one wants to be-”
“Now, Mabel!” He snapped, pointing towards the stairs. Mabel looked like she was going to say something else, but just huffed and went back up the stairs begrudgingly. Ford felt a little bad being so harsh to her, but knowing Mabel; she would’ve kept persisting until daybreak. He sighed and headed to the living room, all but collapsing onto Stan’s favorite chair. He couldn’t believe what he had just done! He had just pointed his gun at a relative! What was wrong with him?! He was thankful that it had only been Mabel. Hopefully, she would be over it by morning. If it had been Dipper, he would probably be too nervous to talk to him for a while.
He ran a hand through his hair anxiously. He needed to get a hold of himself or this was going to be a long summer.
The next time he had been awoken by a nightmare was just about a week later. In that time, very little had changed, but he supposed he was enjoying Gravity Falls a little more now that he wasn’t spending his days cooped up alone in his laboratory. In fact, just a few days ago he and Dipper had paid the gnomes in the woods a nice visit. He supposed the anomalies and weirdness of Gravity Falls was best investigated outside of the house. On the days Dipper and Mabel hung out together elsewhere, he was content to spend time with Stanley in the shack. Half the time he’d watch Stanley in his shop, and sometimes he’d even help come up with outrageous explanations for some of Stanley’s makeshift mysteries, while the other half of the time the two were happy to just spend time together talking.
His interactions with Mabel were still… complicated. The two of them didn’t talk much outside of small talk, but this wasn’t unusual. Last summer, he had barely interacted with her at all, either too preoccupied with his lab or more interesting people like Dipper. It wasn’t like he hated her; that’d be immature. She was a child, and it wasn’t her fault that they didn’t have much in common. He just didn’t find her very interesting. All she seemed to talk about was pop culture and things she had done with her friends and people she had had a crush on and simply none of it was anything he cared about. Of course he would never say it to her face, but she was just too normal and immature for someone like him to really try and get close to. He figured it was fine. After all, Mabel had tons of friends in Gravity Falls, and she was very close to both Stan and her brother. He was sure that not spending time with her wouldn’t be an issue.
From what he could tell, she had quickly gotten over the incident about a week ago. She hadn’t even brought it up with anyone else. If she had, he was sure Stanley wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. He was thankful that she was at least insightful enough to keep it to herself. It seemed even she knew that the last thing anyone needed was family drama this summer.
Or maybe she had just forgotten about it. It had been really late, after all.
After he had awoken from the nightmare, Ford decided to sit on Stanley’s old armchair and read a terrible romance novel. His scientific books and his thriller mystery novels would’ve intrigued him much more, but reading something silly and lighthearted could at least keep his mind off of things and hopefully calm him down. He wanted to be sure he didn’t accidentally try and hurt someone out of sheer paranoia again.
He heard a thump on the stairs, and immediately Ford held his breath. Once he heard another thump, he sighed, trying to rationalize his thoughts. There was at least a ninety-five percent chance it was someone in his family, just coming downstairs for a glass of water or perhaps a midnight snack. He needed to relax. He was safe here now.
“Great Uncle Ford?” Mabel asked, entering the room curiously. He couldn’t help but notice that she had her hands raised cautiously. But once he made eye contact with her and didn’t make any effort to do anything, she lowered them. “What are you doing up?”
“I’m an adult,” Ford stated, idly turning the pages in his book, “I don’t technically have to be in bed at any particular time. What about you?”
“I’m technically a teenager,” Mabel replied, proudly putting her hands on her hips, “I’m expected to be up super late anyways. Teenage rebellion and stuff!”
“What are you doing down here then? Can’t you fight the system in your room?”
“I can’t fight the system without ice cream! You want some?”
“No thanks, Mabel.” Mabel shrugged and headed into the kitchen. In moments she returned with an ice cream bar and a bottle of aloe vera gel in hand. “What’s that for?”
“Your neck looks like it hurts.” Mabel said, pointing to her own. “Did you burn yourself or something?”
Ford just gasped and covered his neck with his hand. He knew exactly what she was referring to, but he didn’t want her to see it. There was a reason why he wore turtlenecks all the time, even in the summer heat. His body was littered with scars and marks from his days in the portal and the torture from Bill, and he simply didn’t want the kids- or Stanley, for that matter- to see them. He didn’t want to explain it to people, and he didn’t want to see the reminders of what he had gone through himself.
However, no one could sleep comfortably with a turtleneck on; not even him. He had figured he wouldn’t be interacting with anyone this late, so why would he have bothered to change out of his pajamas?
“Does it hurt?” Mabel asked, coming closer, “I’ve gotten tons of sunburns before, so I totally know how-”
“It’s not a sunburn.” Ford finally replied. “And it doesn’t hurt either, so don’t worry about it.”
“What is it then?” Before Ford had the chance to protest, Mabel hopped up onto the arm of the chair and looked at him intently.
“W-well…” He supposed he shouldn’t lie to her now. He was too tired to come up with a fake story, anyways. “It’s left over from Bill’s torture. Or from my time in the portal. I’m actually not so sure myself.
“Oh.” He noticed her grin drop, and she looked at his scar sadly. While he was unused to interacting with Mabel, he knew that it was very, very difficult to make her sad, and he immediately regretted saying it.
“See, this is why I cover them all the time.” Ford explained. “I don’t want you or Dipper or anyone else to feel bad. I’m not upset about them; a few ugly scars don’t matter in the long run, especially if it means my family is safe.” His explanation seemed to have worked, because he noticed a small smile appear on her lips.
“I guess I get it.” She said, visibly cheering up at that. “Have I ever shown you the scar on my hand?”
“Uh…” He certainly hadn’t been expecting that. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Look!” She showed him her right palm where, if he looked closely, he could see a thin line running across the center. It was obviously quite a few years old; the scar was nearly the same color as her skin.
“What happened?”
“This one time in the third grade, these kids were picking on Dipper.” Mabel explained, finally opening her ice cream bar. “Dipper wasn’t always that good at standing up for himself, so I did it for him! One of them pushed me down, though. And there was this jagged end in the sidewalk, so I ended up cutting my hand on it.”
“Did the bullying at least stop after that?”
“Yup! Dipper may be good at all that nerdy stuff, but that’s why he has me! ‘Cause I can keep away all the people who pick on him!”
Ford found himself just staring at her in awe. She of course noticed and stared right back.
“What?” She asked, taking a bite out of her ice cream bar. “Did you change your mind about the ice cream or something?”
“No, no, it’s not that.” Ford responded. “You just… well, your story reminded me of something that happened to me when I was a boy.”
“Oooh, do tell. Did you scare away a bunch of bullies from Grunkle Stan?” She leaned in closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”
“No. The opposite, in fact.” He replied. “You might not believe it, but I was picked on quite a bit in my younger years.”
“I can believe it.” She said with a smirk. Ford just rolled his eyes.
“But thankfully Stanley was always there to stand up for me. I think it got to a point where he took more hits than I did. And they weren’t ever after him!” He paused as he recounted so many moments throughout his childhood where he had nearly been hurt but Stanley, ever the hero, stood in before of him, arms outstretched, a big grin on his face as he took whatever came at him and fought until the threat was gone. And no matter how many bloody noses or black eyes he got, he would always smile at Ford and ask him if he was okay. Ford was thankful, of course, but it reached a point where he had grown to expect Stan’s protection. That getting beaten up was just something Stan did, so Ford needn’t worry about it. He felt his stomach drop as he realized that was yet another addition on his growing list of things he had never thanked Stanley for. “I guess I started taking it for granted.”
“I’m sure Grunkle Stan didn’t mind.” Mabel said, patting him gently on the shoulder.
“What makes you so sure?”
“Grunkle Stan once punched a pterodactyl in the face just to save Waddles for me.” Mabel said. “Besides, you just said it yourself: keeping your family safe is what’s most important. I’m sure Grunkle Stan would totally agree with that.”
He felt a little better at her words.
They shared some idle small talk after that, until Mabel finally grew weary and headed back to bed. Ford still felt awkward around her, but at least now he could sort of understand why Stanley liked her so much. She was a little fighter, just like he had been when he was her age.
A few weeks later, Ford woke up in a cold sweat, reeling at the nightmare he had just awoken from. It was Bill- it was always Bill- his voice was everywhere, always getting louder, and his eye… for a being with only one, it showed up everywhere. On the walls, in pictures, on the faces of everyone he knew and cared about… Ford ripped the sheets off of him and stormed out of the room. He couldn’t be in this house, at least not right now. There had been so many nights where Bill had haunted him in this house; infiltrating his thoughts and his dreams, tormenting him with his laughter and mind games, messing with his head by appearing everywhere and distorting his perception. If he stayed in here any longer, he might just lose it. He walked outside, ignoring the light that was on in the kitchen. Someone was awake, or maybe Stan had just left the light on again. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. He just needed to get out.
Once he got outside into the mild, summer night air, he felt a little bit better, but not much. He was still shaking like a leaf and he could still hear that obnoxious, taunting laughter in his head. This is why he far preferred being in the Stan O’ War with Stanley. His nightmares weren’t quite as frequent and when he did have them, the frigid arctic air was great for grounding him. He had the urge to travel further to keep his mind off things, but he knew that if he travelled deep into the woods, he’d likely find other frightening things to worry about. He sat down on the porch with a heavy sigh and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to ease his panicking. He was fine, he was fine, he was fine…
“Great Uncle Ford?” Mabel asked, standing at the front door. He silently groaned. Mabel was the last person he wanted to talk to right now. Dipper and Stan both had had awful encounters with Bill. She probably hadn’t been traumatized by him that much; after all, she had spray painted him in the face about five times. She likely wouldn’t be able to understand.
Assuming this was Mabel.
His thoughts began to race at the idea. What if this Mabel was an illusion created by Bill just to mock him? What if this was Mabel, but her body was being possessed by the demon? What if he had hurt her and was just using her image to taunt and trick him? What if…
“Great Uncle Ford?” Mabel repeated. He felt her hand on his shoulder and he immediately tensed up.
“Don’t touch me.” He said quickly. “Don’t touch me! Don’t talk to me just- just get away, you- you whatever you are, I don’t-”
“Great Uncle Ford!” Mabel interrupted. She jumped off the porch and stood in front of him, staring up at him with a soft and worried expression. “It’s me, Mabel. I’m your grandniece, okay? I’m not Bill or whatever you’re thinking of. Trust me.”
“Trust you? Why should I trust you?! Since when has trust ever done anything good?”
“Me trusting Grunkle Stan is what brought you back!” She argued. Ford’s rush of paranoid thoughts paused for a moment, but… no, that was too simple. Bill would know about that too, wouldn’t he? Mabel seemed to notice his skepticism. “Look, if you don’t believe me, then ask me something only Mabel would know.”
“I…” Ford hesitated; trying to think of something he could ask her that only Mabel would know the answer to. It was only then he realized just how little he knew about his grandniece. All those times he had tuned her out while she talked about her day and the things she liked and the people she loved… he hadn’t picked up anything. He simply hadn’t cared, deeming it as unimportant childish blabber. Why had he done that? She was his family; why hadn’t he at least tried to care? “I don’t… god, I don’t know anything about her! What’s wrong with me?”
“That’s okay,” Mabel said, though her smile faltered for just a second, “just… answer me a couple questions, okay?”
“Okay.” Ford replied hesitantly. She reached forward and gently grabbed ahold of his shaking hands. Despite his better judgment, he let her hold them.
“What’s your name?”
“Mabel, why are we-”
“Just answer the question.” She interrupted.
“Fine. My name is Stanford Pines.”
“How old are you?”
He gave her a look, but her stare didn’t waver.
“Sixty-four.”
“What have you been doing for the past year?”
“I was… sailing up north with Stanley.”
“And where’s Bill?”
“Bill is…” Ford thought about all of the times over the past year that he had worried over Stanley, fearing that Bill might come back from the recesses of his mind. Or worse, take over him. But while his memory could be shaky at times, Stanley never stopped being Stanley. In fact, when Ford had finally voiced these concerns, Stan had been sure to reassure him that if Bill even thought about coming back, he’d happily punch him into oblivion once again. He didn’t know how to tell Stan that that probably wouldn’t work twice, but if there was one thing he trusted in, it was Stan’s determination. “Bill is gone. He’s dead. Or… as dead as an interdimensional being can get.”
“Yup. And a couple days after he died, you let me paint your hand like a turkey. There’s no way Bill knows about that.” Ford had almost forgotten all about that. He had been too weary from the events of Weirdmaggedon and too thankful for everyone’s safety to really care what she did with him. He had figured having a twelve-year-old paint his hand was a nice break from getting tortured for about a week, even if it was silly.
Mabel let go of his hands, and he was suddenly aware that they had stopped shaking. “Feel better?”
“Yes, I think so.” Mabel climbed back onto the porch and sat down next to him. “How did you know to do that?”
“I dunno.” She shrugged. “Sometimes Dipper freaks out a little, and it always helps to remind him where he is. And sometimes he doesn’t believe me when I say it, so I have him tell himself.”
“Oh… has he been suffering from all of Bill’s weirdness, too?” Ford had assumed that the kids were all right; after all, they had been so brave during the almost apocalypse. He hadn’t thought about the possibility of his nephew developing paranoia- or even worse, PTSD from all this.
“Who hasn’t?” She replied sadly. “But it’s okay! I haven’t needed to do that in awhile. So I think it’s getting better?”
“That’s good to hear.” Ford really hoped that was true. Dipper was so young; he deserved to live a life free of paranoia. And if he was already recovering, then he was quite a remarkable child.
…They both were, now that he thought about it. He had been looking down on Mabel for being seemingly unaffected by the weirdness of Gravity Falls but she had just stopped him from having a meltdown. And if what she was saying was true, then she had done this for Dipper several times before, too. That still took courage. Perhaps she hadn’t been affected by Bill’s weirdness, but that didn’t make her a fool, now did it? He needed to stop assuming that greatness only resided in people similar to himself. Bill had tricked him into believing that, and he needed to stop it. After all, it was partially what kept him from reconciling with Stan for so long.
“Mabel, I’m sorry.” Ford finally said.
“It’s okay. I mean, you have the whole summer to learn stuff about me!” She paused, noticing his confusion. “I mean, if you want to.”
“…Sure, Mabel.” That had absolutely not been what he was referring to, but he let it slide for now. She was right about one thing; it was sad that he knew so little about his own relative. Sure, he hadn’t been in this dimension that long; but he simply hadn’t made much of an effort to even try. He supposed now, with Bill gone and no foreseeable threats in the future, he would like to take the time and learn about his grandniece. Perhaps now he could finally take his role as a Great Uncle seriously.
Despite calming down quite substantially, he was still too shaken up to sleep. So he stayed up with Mabel as she pointed out and named the constellations in the sky above them. He had the urge to correct her, but for once he decided he’d let it go. Mabel was creative; and he had to admit that the constellation of Hydra did look more like a broken golf club than a snake.
As he got used to being in Gravity Falls, Ford found his nightmares subsiding a little. That, and he was an insomniac by nature, so as the time passed and his body adjusted to the time zone, he found himself reverting back to his old, sleepless tendencies. In his younger years, he would’ve taken to wandering the house anxiously or using the time to work in his lab, but he decided to spend his time with Mabel instead. It seemed she had become something of an insomniac as well, seeing how almost every night she would come downstairs and hang out with him without the slightest trace of weariness. Somehow he figured that teenage rebellion wasn’t what was fueling her. It did worry him a little; his insomnia hadn’t developed until he was in his early twenties. He seriously hoped that this was a passing thing, but he had heard that insomnia skipped generations. Regardless, Mabel didn’t seem to mind the late nights, and spent them hanging out with him.
Mabel was… weird. But once he tried listening to what she had to say, he found that there was far more to her than what he had originally thought.
She was incredibly talkative. She told him some stories about the anomalies she had faced with Dipper last summer, and he was shocked to find just how many of them she had thwarted, too. He had been under the impression that Dipper had mostly worked alone and had figured out everything with his intellect, but there were quite a few times where Mabel had resolved the issue, often with that trait of hers he’d been condemning: her silliness. She discovered that the gnomes were weak to leaf blowers on one of her first days in Gravity Falls. She had killed the undead by getting Stanley and Dipper to sing karaoke with her. And, most surprising of all, she had gotten Bill to stop possessing Dipper and leave them alone… by tickling him. Sure, she didn’t give off the impression of being a genius quite like Dipper had. But he was beginning to realize that she wasn’t just some clueless child like he had thought she was.
She was also very artistic. He had sort of known this already, what with her drawings littered throughout the scrapbook she had shown Stanley. But he wasn’t aware of just how good she was at it. Her sketches were still a little messy, but for a thirteen-year-old, they were quite impressive. She tended to draw silly doodles, like the image she had done of something called a “snadger” last summer. But he figured if she kept pursuing her artwork, she could likely make a fantastic illustrator. Perhaps if Dipper kept up with his writing, she could be his illustrator? She laughed at the idea for some reason, claiming that Dipper would probably write books too serious to have illustrations.
She was also pretty crafty. One night he had come downstairs after she had and found her in the living room surrounded by heaps of colorful yarn as she knitted herself a new sweater. He hadn’t realized she made them all from scratch; he had thought she just added weird designs on already-made sweaters. Though he had protested, she handed him a pair of knitting needles and helped teach him how to do it, as well. She claimed that if he was going to wear a sweater all the time, he might as well have more than one. He reluctantly agreed, and she helped him create his first handmade sweater. He didn’t want something complicated like hers; just something simple that could cover everything he needed covered. When they had finished the eggplant-purple turtleneck sweater, they turned in for the night. But when he woke up the next morning, he found some strange additions to it; someone had added white stars to it and, in the center, was a planet resembling Jupiter that was wearing a pair of sunglasses. He had sighed at the sight of it and tucked it into his drawer. By the end of the week, she had helped him create an orange sweater as well… but of course, she had added a golden hand in the center that had six fingers and was doing the peace sign. Both of the sweaters were embarrassingly silly but it was about time he finally washed that red one. Stan teased him the entire day, but at least Ford could admit that Mabel’s sweaters were far comfier than the old red one.
About a week after his last nightmare, Ford was sitting on Stan’s chair once again, idly knitting Stan’s red beanie. During a tussle with a particularly large and incredibly angry squid, Stan had managed to tear it up quite a bit. Now that Mabel had taught him how to knit, Ford was happy to fix it. At least it gave him something to do when he simply could not bring himself to sleep. He heard a thump at the stairs. Though he had been less paranoid recently, he still found himself tensing up at sound in the middle of the night. But at least now he was fairly certain that it was Mabel. He relaxed entirely when he saw her lavender nightgown from the corner of his eye.
“Good evening, Mabel.” Ford said. He glanced at the clock on the wall; it was two in the morning. But at that point, two a.m. had become something of an evening to them. Mabel didn’t respond and just walked up to the chair before hopping onto its arm. She didn’t say anything, and just continued watching him knit for a while.
“What happened to his hat?” Mabel finally asked.
“It got torn up when we dealt with a rather large squid. Luckily Stanley stayed relatively unharmed.” He replied. He had expected Mabel to question him excitedly about what the squid had looked like, or what else had happened, but she remained unusually quiet. Strange. Usually Mabel was a non-stop stream of conversation so having her sit here in silence really made his skin crawl. “Is everything all right, Mabel?”
“I kinda… had a dream that you weren’t okay.” She said quietly. He stopped knitting abruptly at her words.
“What?” It was a rhetorical question, but Mabel didn’t take it as such.
“I-I mean… I don’t know.” She sighed. He finally turned to look at her, and noticed that her eyes were red and a little swollen.
“Mabel…” He put the beanie he was knitting down and put an arm around her. “Did you have a nightmare?”
“Yeah.” Mabel said after a pause.
“Well, would you like to tell me about it?” When he had nightmares the last thing he wanted to do was think about it, but with how much of a socialite Mabel was, perhaps it would help her? She hesitated for a moment. “I mean, if you think that would help.”
“I don’t really remember that much.” She said. “You were being hurt by Bill, and by the time we got to you… you were, um…” She looked away from him. “Yeah.”
“Oh, Mabel, I’m okay. I’m all right, see?” He said, offering her a gentle smile.
“I know. But it never hurts to check.” She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “Sorry, usually I’m okay by now. Whenever I have a bad dream about Dipper I can at least check on him. Same with Grunkle Stan; he sleeps like a rock. But with you I gotta talk face to face.”
“You…” Ford paused, processing what she just said. “Have you been having nightmares frequently?”
“…Kinda.” She said, looking away uncomfortably.
Now things were starting to make sense. If Mabel had insomnia, wouldn’t she be downstairs pretty early on? Most of the time she would come downstairs long after she and Dipper had gone to bed. If she was an insomniac, wouldn’t Dipper have brought it up at some point, considering that he reads before he goes to sleep? Had she been trying to sleep these past couple of weeks, only to be awoken by nightmares?
“How long has this been happening?”
“Since the end of last summer.”
“The end of…” He was a fool for thinking she was too clueless or simple to be affected by Bill’s weirdness. She was silly, but she was not completely oblivious. He cursed himself for dismissing Mabel’s strange behavior the past couple of weeks as simple teen restlessness. “Why haven’t you told anyone about this?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “It’s not really that important. I mean-”
“Not that important? Mabel, your well-being is important! If something’s been bothering you, you should tell someone! We care about-”
“Why should you care about me when I’m the one that caused all of this?!” Mabel snapped.
“Caused all of what?”
“Dipper getting freaked out at nothing! Grunkle Stan losing his memories! And you- your nightmares and-and-” She grabbed his hand which was on her shoulder, and rolled up the sleeve, revealing a large red burn mark around his wrist. “All these scars, Great Uncle Ford!”
“Mabel,” he exclaimed, pulling his hand away, “what are you talking about?!”
“I’m the one that started the apocalypse!” She cried.
For once, Ford was too surprised to speak.
“I… I mean, it was stupid. I was stupid.” Mabel said, taking a shuddering breath. “Bill disguised himself as Blendin and he… he said that if I gave him the rift thingy, he could make summer just a little longer. I thought… I thought Dipper was really gonna stay with you, because you’re so much smarter and cooler than me and I didn’t want that so I believed him and… and I ended up making everything so much worse!”
Ford didn’t know what to say. It was all just so much to take in. He knew that Dipper and Mabel had had their backpacks switched, but he had no idea that the rift had been handed over to Bill. He had figured that Bill, as desperate and malicious as he was, had seen Mabel alone then attacked her and taken it by force. With how high the stakes had been, he didn’t even consider that Bill might’ve coerced her into giving it away.
“Why…” He finally said, after gathering his thoughts, “why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“I’ve been meaning to, but… what if it makes Dipper so mad that he never wants to talk to me again? Or what if I upset Grunkle Stan so much that he sends me home for the summer? W-what if they end up hating me, too?!”
She was weeping at this point, and Ford wanted to reach out and comfort her, but something that she said bothered him.
“Too?” He asked.
“Well, yeah.” Mabel said, averting her gaze away once again. “One time, Dipper and I got into a fight. We made up later, but… he had told me that you were right about me. That on the UFO, you told him that being with me was suffocating him or something! I was really upset but I thought maybe, if I spent more time with you this summer, maybe something would change or- or I don’t know, but…” She sobbed, and cried into her nightgown’s sleeve. “You shouldn’t have to like me. Especially after all this!”
“Mabel…” With everything that had happened during Weirdmaggedon, he had almost forgotten about that conversation with Dipper. He regretted it. He regretted it so much, and he was thankful that after it was all over, Dipper had eventually refused his offer. It was wrong of him to try and take Dipper from his family. He and Mabel were a team and if one day they walked down different paths… then so be it. But he shouldn’t have tried to influence that, especially when they were so young. Ford had thought he was really grown up and ready to forget Stan when he was seventeen and now, several long decades later, he realized even that was far too young to have tried to write off his brother forever. When Ford had said that, he thought he was saving Dipper from making the same foolish mistakes that he had. But after reconciling with Stan, he realized that had Dipper accepted his offer, he would’ve been leading Dipper down the same path he had walked all those years ago. One that was lonely and filled with paranoia and suspicion. If Dipper was to pursue investigating the abnormal, he should do it with the people he loved, in a place that was familiar and safe. A tired proverb once said that if you choose a job you love, you would never have to work a day in your life. Ford thought that was a downright lie until he sailed the seas investigating anomalies with Stanley.
As for Mabel… he had never meant for her to hear that conversation. In fact, she had been the last thing on his mind when he was talking to Dipper that day. He just wanted to show Dipper just how much potential he had. He didn’t realize he was pushing Mabel under the bus while doing so. Perhaps he had subconsciously been projecting himself and Stanley on the kids, and his bitterness towards his brother had caused him to be harsher than he had intended. Regardless, that was no excuse. Mabel truly believed that he hated her. And while there was a time where he had not thought much of her, he had never once hated her. And it was pathetic that he had not made that clear.
“Mabel…” Ford said, reaching out to her gently. He stroked her hair in what he hoped came off as comforting. “Of course I like you! And I’m sorry I didn’t do a very good job of showing it. When you first met me, I was still incredibly paranoid from Bill and my time in the portal.” He paused. “I guess I still am, but I digress. Back then, I was so bitter at Stanley and so devoted to continuing my work that I guess I put some of that onto you kids. And that was wrong of me. Over these past couple of weeks alone, I’ve learned that you’re wildly skilled in the arts, you’re more of a socialite than I could ever dream to be and you’re just a strong as Dipper, and me, and even Stanley. You’ve remained an optimist despite the horrors you’ve seen, and that takes more strength than you would think.” He wiped a few stray tears off her cheeks. “You’re not just some lesser version of Dipper. And I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you think otherwise.”
“So…” Mabel whimpered. “So you’re not mad? About Bill?”
“Of course not. And I don’t think Dipper or Stanley would be, either. Bill has tricked me more times than I wish to remember. What matters is that all of us managed to beat him in the end. Plus, you got to spray paint him in the face a few times. I would’ve never had the courage to do that at your age.”
That at least got a smile out of her.
“Are you feeling any better now, sweetheart?” Ford asked, after most of her sobs had subsided.
“Did you just call me sweetheart?” Mabel gasped, staring at him with wide eyes.
“Um… yes?” That question caught him off guard. Was this the first time he had referred to her as such? “Is that strange? I mean, Stanley refers to you as sweetie all the time. I just assumed that-”
She interrupted him with a tight hug.
“Thank you, Grunkle Ford.” She said, though her voice was muffled through his sweater. He just smiled and returned the hug. They stayed like that for a while in silence, simply enjoying the comfort it brought. Ford would never admit it, especially around Stanley, but after spending thirty years without any form of human contact, he simply couldn’t get enough affection. At least there was never a short supply of it with Mabel.
“Excuse me, Mabel?” He asked, after they had been like that for quite some time. He glanced at the clock on the wall; it was now a little past three a.m. “I think it’s about time we actually head to…” He trailed off when he heard the muffled sound of her snoring against his chest. Figures, he thought, that the one place Mabel can fall asleep is while hugging someone. He figured he should do the right thing and take her back to her bedroom, but he hesitated. If Mabel were to have another nightmare, he would be happy to be here for her and help her through it. He had only been dealing with them for the past forty years, give or take a few. That, and he found he was quite comfortable in this chair and didn’t really feel like moving. He gingerly moved Mabel so that her face was no longer buried in his sweater, but held her close as he drifted off into sleep as well.
A few nights later, Ford was up late again, sitting on Stanley’s old chair as he knitted. He had finished Stanley’s beanie and was now making another one for himself. It was purple, to match the space sweater Mabel had helped him make a few weeks back.
Like clockwork, he heard a thump at the stairs. And despite everything, he still paused his knitting at the sound of it.
Soon enough, Mabel strolled into the room and climbed up onto the chair. He made room for her to sit up on his lap as usual, and continued his work.
“Bad dream?” He asked.
“Not tonight.” She replied, shaking her head.
“Can’t sleep then?”
“Don’t be so serious, Grunkle Ford.” She said, playfully punching his arm. “Maybe I just wanna hang out and knit with you. Ever thought of that?”
“But Mabel-”
“Also, that needs a star pattern.” Mabel interrupted, pointing at the beanie. “You didn’t really think you’d get away with making a design-less hat on my watch, did you?” He didn’t say anything. “That’s what I thought.”
Ford rolled his eyes and grabbed the white yarn. Despite her confidence and energy tonight, he was still worried about her; after all, it was incredibly late. But he decided to let it go for now. It was going to be a long road to recovery from the nightmares Bill had caused, but at least they’d be able to travel that road together. As a family.
With matching space pattern sweaters.