Chapter Text
When Mabel last saw her twin brother regularly, they had just turned 13 years old.
When Great Uncle Stanford (Mabel had come up with the genius name idea of Grunkle but the man had shut that down) asked Dipper to study at his Institute of Oddology, Mabel was thrilled for Dipper. She really was! Sure they were supposed to go to high school together and tackle the world side-by-side, but Dipper needed this! So Mabel put on a brave face and told Dipper to go, with the promise to keep in touch.
That was about 3 years ago and Mabel can say that she has only received a total of 47 letters from Dipper in that time. Most of which were from the first year. That’s not even mentioning the gazillion she’d sent.
Sure, she still saw Dipper too. For Thanksgiving and their birthday. If they had celebrated Christmas as a family, then maybe he’d come back to Piedmont for that too. But they didn't, so he stayed in Gravity Falls. With Great Uncle Stanford.
Not only that, but when Mabel did see her twin for those events, he was practically glued to Great Uncle Stanford’s side. They were always whispering together or just sat back to watch the ongoings. Mabel could barely drag Dipper away to do anything. Hell, it wouldn’t have made that much a difference if they hadn’t shown up at all.
This itself didn’t even include the bullshit that Mabel had to put up with Mom and Dad. They were touch and go for a bit. It was a will-they-won’t-they situation on whether they’d get divorced.
Constantly fighting each other on little things to avoid the big thing. And guess who was around that for 3 years? No really, guess who had to go to school smiling while worrying that her parents would follow through on their plans to just abandon everything because it would be easier. At least once a week, that idea was thrown out in the house. It made Mabel’s stomach churn with unease.
Mabel tried to talk to Dipper about it at first. After he first left, their parents had one of their worst fights yet (though as Mabel looks back at the fight, it honestly wasn’t as bad as the ones she’s heard recently). Mabel barely got a letter back. And the letter she received was a month and a half late, with barely a scrap of acknowledgement from Dipper. Mabel really wanted to rip the letter apart and use it for a paper mache project. But she refrained, using all her mental and physical strength she did refrain.
Mabel cleared her desk off, which means she literally pushed everything to the floor. Nothing broke, so Mabel didn’t really care. And even if something did break, she probably wouldn't care anyway. She placed her biggest bag on the desk, the flap open showing the empty space she needed to fill.
Looking around her room, it was littered with whatever art project came to her mind, papers from random school assignments she might have completed seemed to gravitate to where her now empty school bag had been dropped after she’d dumped it out before.
Now this is probably strange for those just tuning in right? Well, Mabel will explain what she’s doing and how it all came to this moment.
This was technically the third Thanksgiving they’d had since Dipper had officially become Great Uncle Stanford’s apprentice in all things odd. It had been pretty normal for the Pines family. Grandma Liz was helping in the kitchen with Mom. Dad and Grandpa Shermie were in the living room watching some game that wasn't relevant to Mabel making it irrelevant to mention. Dipper and Great Uncle Stanford hadn’t arrived yet, like usual. Late to get there and first to leave. Mom’s side of the family didn’t come, she didn’t say why. Maybe that’s when Mabel should’ve known that this Thanksgiving was going to be different.
It wasn’t until a half hour till the turkey would be done did the two show up. Mabel was being made to set the table when the bell rang, the heavy stack of plates were simply placed on the table when her Dad yelled for her to get the door. Which didn’t make any sense seeing as the living room was much closer to the door than the dining room, where Mabel had been setting up the table.
But Mabel didn’t complain, there would be plenty during and after dinner. She didn’t need to pile on herself. Mabel just left the plates on the table and went about opening the door.
Dipper and Great Uncle Stanford were standing side by side awkwardly in front of the door. Mabel didn’t say a word as she opened the door for them, in an unspoken gesture of ‘ come right in .’ The two did, taking their coats off and handing them to Mabel like she was a damn coat rack.
“Traffic slow you two up again?” Grandpa Shermie condescendingly asked. Him and Great Uncle Stanford never got along. That situation definitely was helped after Great Uncle Stanford took Dipper away to his hideaway in the woods of Oregon. Grandpa Shermie's words, not Mabel's. Grandpa Shermie always gave Great Uncle Stanford the stink eye for it and other things that Grandma Liz explained as old history between brothers. It was part of the reason that Mabel knew she’d have a headache after this dinner. Not even getting into the after dinner and guests show her parents would put on.
“Well it is California Sherman, there’s bound to be traffic.” Stanford replied easily. Mabel couldn’t see his face as she was currently fighting with the coat closet to give her an empty hanger. In the background, she heard Mom calling Dipper over into the kitchen so that she could see her son. In her fight with the coat hangers, Mabel dropped both coats she’d been handed. With a frustrated sigh, Mabel got the hangers untangled from their seemingly impossible predicament before attempting to pick up the coats again. Putting on one at a time once she got to hangers free from the mess, the rest she decided were not her problem.
It was only after picking up and flipping Great Uncle Stanford’s coat right side up that it fell out. The object in the inner pocket of her Great Uncle's coat must have moved in some odd way in the pocket that when Mable picked up the coat, the small paper with blue ink fell out. Mabel stared at it for a moment, unconsciously putting Stanford’s coat on its hanger. It took more thought to actually hang it up.
Mabel glanced up. Her Dad and Grandpa Shermie were still in the living room, facing away from her and talking about the game on the TV. Everyone else must be in the kitchen, which made sense because Dipper and Great Uncle Stanford stuck close together at these events. Though this time it’s not as many people.
With this opportunity in mind, Mabel picked it up not bothering to focus on the blue ink. Flipping it over told Mabel that this wasn’t a piece of paper, some note that Great Uncle Stanford made for himself in his research. It was a photograph. But that was the only thing that Mabel could get answered because the image made her mind explode into questions. A pit inescapable opening in her stomach.
The photo was of two young boys next to an old boat that was clearly worse for ware. They were red all over from the clear sun burn of being outside for a long time. They were smiling into the camera. In the middle of the two, written on the boat in black is the name Stan O' War. But that wasn’t the part that made Mabel feel like she got kicked down a flight of stairs. No it was the fact that one of the young kids looked so similar to a younger Great Uncle Stanford… and the other looked almost identical to him.
Mabel knew what Great Uncle Stanford looked like when he was younger. She’d been shown his college photos, his senior portrait, and a few other school picture day photos. But the young boy on the right with him was just like him. Sure the kid had a missing tooth, no glasses, and looked a bit more banged up than the other kid. But otherwise the two were clones. Or… twins.
“Oh Mabel,” Mom’s voice sounded from the dining room. “I thought I told you to set the table!”
Mabel shoved the picture in her pocket. “Sorry, Mom! I got it now.” Mabel was quick to get back to the dining room to set up. It’d at least keep her mind busy for a time.
-
The dinner itself went about the same as last year. Just with less people at the table this time. It seemed that every adult knew to not bring up the fact. For themselves or Mom’s sake really depended on the person Mabel was talking about.
Mabel didn’t focus on the idle and awkward chatter around her. She kept her head down and tried not to think about the photo that was burning a hole in her jeans’ back pocket. It was probably creasing from how she was sitting but Mabel didn’t really care so much about the crease that was bound to be forming. She figured it out her plan once she started setting the table, cutting it close as Grandma Liz started bringing dishes out to the table; She wouldn’t be able to get the photo back in Great Uncle Stanford’s jacket pocket before he and Dipper left. It would be too suspicious.
Hell— judging by the looks he was already giving Mabel, he was already suspicious of something about her. Which made Mabel want to scream and throw her glitter paint all over him in his stupid sweater. Before he first took Dipper, Great Uncle Stanford had always looked at Mabel and her ‘childish actions’ weirdly. Like it made him itch in his own skin just seeing her. Whenever Mabel had brought this up, he always denied it but Mabel had eyes. She was smart. Just not nerd smart like Dipper. But he didn’t see that. Nobody saw it. Mabel thought that Dipper did, but now she barely knows Dipper. And Dipper barely knows her.
Mabel pushed her peas around, just as bland as always. Maybe she could get out of Thanksgiving next year?
She’d be 17 and her learning permit would become a drivers license after she got her parents to give her more hours on the road. Though it would be difficult to work around their schedules and the possible (very likely) arguments they’d have, it would be worth it. She could even meet their expectations of her and say that she has a boyfriend and she’d rather spend the holiday with him. It didn’t matter if that fact was true to her, as long as she could get out. There were always a few places open for a bit on Thanksgiving. She could get some hot food and go to the park for all she cared. As long as she didn’t have to deal with the awkward bullshit of this family, she could care less.
The only thing interesting about her family was the photo. Who was the kid that was identical to the young Great Uncle Stanford? She couldn’t go out of her way and ask him. Again, she must reiterate that the guy was incredibly paranoid. Though Mabel wasn’t dense to not know why. He dealt with the weirdest and oddest things that years ago, people would think they were fictitious or myths to scare the crap out of kids.
He seems so interested in oddities and other weird things in the world but can’t stand to be around his weird, odd great niece?
‘Shut up voice in my head. You aren’t helping right now. Think about it when we're trying to sleep at night like everyone else.’
“-abel. Mabel!”
Mabel looked up. Everyone was staring at her like she had mysteriously grown a second head.
“Huh?” Because what was Mabel supposed to say in that situation? She didn’t hear what she’d been asked.
“I was asking how school was going for you?” Grandma Liz asked gently, like she was concerned if she spoke any louder it would break the peace over the dinner table that was barely stable to begin with.
“It’s alright. B’s in most of my classes. Except art- got an A+ in that.” Mabel scooped as many peas as she could in her mouth, shoving back the grimace of her face. She’d only eat them all at once because it was the only thing left on her plate and she didn’t want to be asked for more detail.
“Well that’s amazing sweetheart!” Did Mabel mention that Grandma Liz was her favorite? No? Well, let's make that clear now that Grandma Liz is objectively the best. She doesn’t try to stir the pot and always tries to find the positive of any situation. Planning to go to the beach but a thunderstorm decides to blow in? Perfect rainy day for reading aloud! Power goes out in the house? Living room sleepover!
There was always this positivity with her that Mabel used to share with her. Grandma Liz’s friends used to say it was genetic. But maybe Grandma Liz was just lucky to not be tainted by the Pines name. Every year, it felt like their whole name was cursed by a negative cloud above— the first of many. The clouds get bigger each year— a storm was brewing and no one but Mabel could see it. Mabel idly wondered if they’d all survive the storm.
Mabel went to scope more of whatever was left of her plate onto her fork, only to hear the fork loudly scrap the plate. Looking down, Mabel hadn’t even realized she cleared it. That was something she’d been dealing with. Moments where Mabel was just on autopilot and had no idea what she was actually doing. Should she be concerned? Probably. Was she going to bring it up to either of her parents? Hell no. No need to give either of them ammo to use against the other.
“So Mabel, how are your friends? Anybody interesting to invite around?”
‘Okay geez Grandma Liz, what’s with all the questions? ’
Grandpa Shermie seemed to be trying to mediate whatever topic Mom and Dad were talking about. Mabel wasn’t concerned. No one had started shouting yet. Dipper seemed to be focused solely on finishing his plate. Great Uncle Stanford on the other hand, had already cleared his plate much like Mabel. If Mabel wasn’t already used to being looked at like she was a test specimen, she’d probably crawl right out of her skin at seeing Stanford looking at her.
Mable snapped her eyes from her Great Uncle, gulping down her water before answering. It gave her time to think of an answer that wouldn’t cause more questions to pile up.
“They’re good. Busy getting jobs and their licenses. And no Grandma, no one has met my expectations yet to consider bringing them around.” In reality, Mabel questioned what is considered to be a friend. Sure Mabel was plenty social– something Great Uncle Stanford and everyone else in her life pointed out first about Mabel. But did Mabel have people to talk about her wacked family with? Nope. She was invited to parties, a bunch actually. She was always able to sneak a little something out from the house to bring, making her a reliable someone in Piedmont High's party crowd. She was someone that people could ask about any drama that was going on around school too, being able to pick up things that hadn't eve gotten back to the main groups yet.
In the high school hierarchy, she wasn’t a loser but she also wasn’t one of the leaders. A recognizable face and name with a useful resource to provide. But if anyone was asked any other detail about her life, they’d not have a clue. Did it hurt? Yes. But she could’ve had it a lot worse. She knew how to blend in and hold on. She knew now when she was just too much for other people to deal with. It was simple social science, the only since Mabel could guaranty Great Uncle Stanford was not a master of. If you’re too much to deal with, then nobody wants to be around you. But if you cared for others, people wanted to be around you because you were ‘so selfless’ and ‘so humble’.
Grandma Liz hummed, pleased with her granddaughter’s perfect answer. Great Uncle Stanford moved his watchful eyes to the other side of the table. Mabel took a much slower sip of her water, staring at her empty plate, comparing it to the others at the table. There was a right moment to start clearing the table. That action itself was an art, one she had perfected. She had to balance watching who was still interested in their food and how much was left on the plate.
It took only five minutes before Mabel deemed it to be the right time. When Mabel stood, she made sure to cover the top of the photo with her long orange sweater. This once had a more subtle glitter effect to it. Some of the yarn used was strung with glitter, some was not. Mabel didn’t intend for it to be longer on her (another one of her absence spells), but right now it came in handy.
“I’ll start dishes,” Mabel moved to stand, shoving her now empty cup into the space between her upper arm and chest. Her plate and silverware carried with the other arm. “Is anyone else done?” She asked, already knowing who’d hand their plates over.
Mabel barely uttered out the proper pleasantries as she took the plates of Great Uncle Stanford and Dipper. She awkwardly adjusted everything to make sure she could escape to the kitchen— if only for a few minutes. She still couldn’t shuffle off to the bathroom to study the photo. It was too soon and not enough time. It would be easier when Dipper and more importantly Great Uncle Stanford were gone. The paranoia seemed to spread to Dipper too. Or maybe that was genetic and was easier to see now that Dipper basically bathed in paranoia everyday?
Mabel washed the dishes as she spaced off. She could do that. It was one of the things she could do with her time alone right now. No need to worry about the real world right now.
One side of the sink was for the dirty dishes and one side was for the clean dishes that were too wet to put away just yet.
Mabel's not exactly sure where she goes in her head sometimes. Sometimes she'll be thinking of the things she needs to get done. Other times she'll be imaging characters she's watched or read about in weird situations or making different decisions than the ones they canonically made. She sometimes will even throw herself into the mix. But there are the few times where he mind is just blank. Not an empty blank, a heavy blank that is slowly squishing her.
Mabel jumped back when more plates suddenly filled her vision. Her hand holding the plate she was washing gripped more tightly so her slippery hands didn’t drop it.
“Shit, sorry– I thought you heard me.” Dipper stumbled through his words as Mabel realized he was standing right next to her. Just behind him, Great Uncle Stanford seemed to be taking a seat in the kitchen. Seems they both wanted to hide out too. At least that was something they could all agree with.
“It’s fine.” Mabel shrugged off, putting the dish she was just finishing washing into the other side of the sink.
“Here, I’ll dry.” Dipper said, already doing so before Mabel could protest like she really wanted too. Well that definitely cut down her perfectly excusable reason to not go back into the fray. The dining room seemed a lot louder now that Mabel was aware of her surroundings.
Nobody in the kitchen talked. It was a silence that Mabel found just as comforting as she found it uncomfortable. If she really focused, then she could hear Great Uncle Ford writing something. The scratch of pen on paper made Mabel want to rip at her skin. It was like the sound of chewing or the more commonly known sound of nails on a chalkboard. But this might be better than whatever stupid argument that Mom and Dad had started up. But Mabel really wishes that something would drown out the ugly sound of writing. Please?
“So… how have you been?” Yikes, never mind. She definitely didn’t want Dipper starting small talk with her. Seriously, it’s weird enough for her literal twin to know nothing about her and for her to know nothing about him now. Why must he insist on trying to make conversation?
“Fine… you?” Mabel gave nothing to continue the conversation. Her shoulders rose up when she realized her answer made the pen stop scratching.
‘Bring back the pen scratches! Bring them back!’
“I’ve been good. Keeping busy.” Dipper answered, putting another dry plate onto the counter to be put away later.
They worked in silence for a moment, focusing on what they were doing. The pen scratches started back up, though not as frantic as before.
Mabel starts unstacking the cups to wash them.
“So what’s your plan?” Dipper said so quickly it made Mabel pause her motions to process his words.
“My plan? For what?” Mabel asked, confused on what Dipper could be referring to. Was he talking about college plans? It was a little early to start thinking about that, but this was Dipper she was talking to. So that did make sense she guessed. Mabel didn’t notice that the pen scratches stopped again. It was too loud in the other room to pick up the absent sound when Mabel was focused on something else.
“For the divorce?” Dipper stated as if it was obvious and not something huge he’d just dropped onto Mabel. “Mom said they were filing the paperwork soon and that they had to work out everything with their attorneys.”
The soap made the cup she was washing slip and fall into the sink. Without thinking, Mabel made to grab it, but it was too late. The glass had broken and the only thing that she got out of trying to save it was a shard of glass cutting into her hand.
Mabel yelped and swore loudly. Loud enough apparently to be heard in the other room. Or maybe they heard the glass break. Whatever it was, they came into the kitchen to find Mabel gripping her own hand as blood seeped out between her fingers. Dipper seemed to be talking to Mabel, his voice raised in what could only be his worry. His hands gripping Mabel's shoulders to keep her up right, even though Mabel wasn't tilting over in the slightest. Or maybe he was trying to get Mabel to focus on him, but his voice was muffled to Mabel's ears as she could only hear the blood rushing to her hand.
All of it is going to gush out of your hand now. You're going to die. In your kitchen with only stupid half finished projects to show for your life.
'ShutupShutupShutupShutupShutup'
Stanford had appeared between the two with a first aid kit that didn't look like anything her parents had in the house, realizing it was more than just a broken glass.
“They’re what?!” Mabel's teeth were clenched together, something her orthodontist told her not to do because it could damage her teeth, but to hell with that advice because what Dipper just said couldn’t be true. He couldn’t know before she did. Sure their parents were horrible together, but if they were already so far into the whole divorce thing they would've told the kid that actually lived with them. Right?
Callus hands pulled Mabel’s uninjured hand away from her injured one. She didn’t look at her Great Uncle, her eyes locked with her twin. This had to be the most eye contact they’d have in 3 years.
“Getting divorced…” Dipper said hesitantly, Mabel ignored the sting her hand felt as someone cleaned the wound. “I thought you knew…” Dipper’s face looked like Mabel was going to go wild or start sobbing. Or both. If this was 3 years ago, she probably would have. But this wasn’t.
Mabel looked up at her parents. It was like they just remembered they had two kids. But they didn’t seem to be as guilty as Mabel thinks they should've been with this. They had so much time to tell Mabel. Hell, they have lived together all this time. Mabel literally went shopping the other week with her Mom where she complained about Dad the whole time. Not telling her was intentional. It had to be. Because how the hell would it not come up?
Mabel didn’t expect them to explain themselves. It seemed they cared more that Grandpa Shermie and Grandma Liz were scolding them over not telling Mabel, rather than the fact they betrayed their own daughter. The only thing keeping Mabel grounded enough to reality was the medical pressure from the sterile wrap forming around her hand that still pulsed in pain.
The moment the hands finished the wrap on her hand, guess Mabel didn't need stitches, Mabel ran. Up to her room. Away from everyone.
No one yelled after her. No one followed.
-
Mabel laid on her stomach next to the vent in her room for hours, arms resting her head— making it easier for stray tears to be wiped away. Through the vent, Mabel could hear everything downstairs if she listened close enough. She heard the tail end of her grandparents scolding her parents. She heard her parents try defending themselves. She heard the coat closet open for Dipper and Great Uncle Stanford, barely getting out a good bye and thank you for dinner before they got out.
Not long after, Grandpa Shermie and Grandma Liz left. At least they thought about coming upstairs to say goodbye, only to be shut down by Mom and Dad. Her parents seemed to come to some sort of unspoken agreement that Mabel should be left alone for the night, to cool off. Guess they could agree about something without arguing. Who knew?
Though it didn’t last long, Mabel heard them arguing again not long after they left. Probably about the dessert that nobody got to eat. Mabel picked herself off the floor. She didn’t feel like paying attention to it anyway. She had much better things she could be doing.
Mabel wiped her eyes and her snuffy nose on her sweater sleeve before she pulled it off. The T-shirt she wore under it was full of multi-color stars. She threw the sweater to the floor, not bothering to even attempt making a basket in her laundry bag across the room.
Mabel pulled the photo from her pocket, making sure it was truly the same thing she saw before. Two little kid-no more than 12- one was clearly a young Great Uncle Stanford based on the photos that Mabel remembers from Grandma Liz. The other— his double. Hesitantly, Mabel flipped the photo over to read the blue ink on the back.
Stanford and Stanley Pines – 1966
Mabel stared at the ink like it would suddenly start moving and change to something else. That suddenly the words would answer the new questions that blossomed in her head now that she was confirming that the other kid in the photo was someone to her. Someone to her Great Uncle Stanford. She had a Great Uncle Stanley. A Grunkle Stanley.
Mabel flipped the photo back over, looking at the younger version of her newly known Grunkle.
‘Why did no one talk about him?’ She questioned. It seems like something that would have been brought up. Mabel hadn’t ever seen a photo of him. And now that she thought about it, she’d never seen a photo of younger Great Uncle Stanford outside of school produced photos until his college years. Even than, it was to come by a photo of him that young of him in the photo albums Grandma Liz had meticulously kept order of. Not one slip up for years. This wasn’t accidental— this was planned.
‘What happened to make him basically erased from the family?’ Mabel stared at the photo. Like it would whisper to her the answers she wanted. Is this what Dipper felt like all the time? Always questioning things and trying to look for answers? He’d know what to do here.
Mabel shook her head. If Dipper could figure this out, which he probably had since he’s lived with Great Uncle Stanford for 3 years, then so could Mabel.
Mabel grabbed the family laptop from its charger in the corner of her room. Technically, it was supposed to be charging in the living room, but Mabel used it the most so her parents never noticed the change of where the laptop was located until they needed it.
Opening it, Mabel decided to do some internet sleuthing of her own to answer the biggest question in her mind.
‘Who is Stanley Pines?’
-
Honestly, Mabel didn’t know what she was expecting to find when she started this search. Maybe she was hoping for a Facebook to come up so that she could easily point to being her Grunkle Stanley. She could just DM him and it would be solved. She could meet her Grunkle to find out why he was erased from the family and find out how cool he is. But her search turned up a lot of things. Mostly a history of arrests. But one article stood out among the rest.
Stan Pines Dead
Mabel read quietly and felt her heart slowly start to break. Her Grunkle was long dead. He apparently died in 1983 in a car crash. Barely anything left. Mabel couldn’t even find the online obituary, if they even had one for him.
Mabel looked over everything she collected in a file she made on the computer.
‘This was all for nothing.’ Mabel thought as she stared at the folder full of stuff about Grunkle Stanley she collected. Her eyes stung and she chose to believe it was because it was almost midnight and she had been up before the sun rose this morning from her parents arguing over what got cooked first and when.
‘At least I kind of know of him.’ Mabel thought as she started clicking back through each file. The photos she was looking through were of Grunkle Stanley’s various mugshots, some even had fake names still attached to him. Apparently he’d got mixed up with a lot of bad people.
The mouse stalled before she clipped onto the next photo.
‘If Grunkle Stanley had gotten mixed up with bad people and couldn’t keep working with them, what was stopping him from making a new identity like he was doing before?’
Mabel flipped open a new tab on her web browser, looking through all the places he’d been before. It was a lot in just a decade. She pinned all the places he’d been, and even some he’d come back too. By the time she was done, Mabel knew it had been hours already. It was late into the night now, she had to move her research to the ground closer to the outlet, the laptop charging as she researched.
Mabel stared at the map she had digitally made. The map was plenty full, a lot of her info came from arrest records, complaints that were digitally recorded on online forums after the fact, and even some sort of breakdown of Stanley Pines from an IRS Agent that had apparently been tracking Grunkle Stanley for years before his legal death. It was very insightful.
Mabel was able to manage a tired smile before she laid her head face down in her arms to think. Her head was pounding with a need for sleep but Mabel couldn’t yet, not until she had a plan.
If Mabel was assuming that her Grunkle Stanley had in fact faked his death (something that became more likely to her the more she thought about it), then he’d probably have been more careful of where he went and stayed. He wouldn’t risk being somewhere that someone could recognize him. So that ruled out California, Oregon, and New Jersey as places in America he could be.
He probably stayed on the move a lot, at least when he was younger. Now though, he might be more willing to stay somewhere longer. Not only because he’s older so picking up everything is a lot more work. It’s also because he’s older so it might take people longer to recognize him.
If Mabel’s knowledge bank is right, then Grunkle Stanley couldn’t get an average job that required background checks either. His prints could come up and they couldn’t exactly check his nonexistent background of his fake identity. Mabel looked back at her map. A lot of dots stayed closer to the sea.
Obviously, Mabel knew Grunkle Stanley wouldn’t be working a main sea port with his history. But that didn’t mean she could completely mark them off.
Mabel looked at the time on her clock. It was early morning now. She could hear her parents up even though the sun wasn’t up yet. Right, it was Black Friday. Just because they didn’t celebrate Christmas, didn’t mean they weren’t going to miss the sales that came with the holiday. Which meant that both her parents would be gone for the day. They didn’t bother coming to her room to check on. Mabel heard both their cars start and laid on the floor until the headlights of the cars were gone from her window.
Mabel continued removing the markers that Grunkle Stanley wouldn’t likely be at. Then when that was done, Mabel looked up routes to each one, sending each to the printer in her Dad’s office.
It was almost 100 sheets of paper that she then had to organize. Mabel wasn’t even fully sure what she was doing until she dumped out her school bag.
She stared down at the floor.
It only took a moment before her bag was stuffed with the directions, organized based on what was closest. Then she went around collecting things. She threw open her closet, grabbing out clothes she didn’t usually wear and clothes she did. Then she went to her desk to search her drawers. Half the stuff she just threw to the floor, then the rest she put onto her bed to pack away.
And Mabel didn’t stop in just her room. She went to the bathroom next. Going through the cabinet above the sink, making sure she had medical supplies just in case, and making sure she had some nice smelling soaps. Her parents’ room, now technically her mom’s room was next. She grabbed anything useful and stuff she could steal. She would feel bad if her Mom didn’t lie or asked Mabel how she was every once in a while. She didn’t find any bundles of cash until she got to the guest room, the room her Dad had been sleeping in. She made sure to grab one of his coats on her way out. Something in the far back of his closet that he probably wouldn’t notice was missing. Just to make sure, she moved the hanger over to the rest of the empty ones in the closet.
Mabel didn’t bother opening the door to Dipper’s old room. Anything important there was probably already with Dipper anyways, the rest would be useless to Mabel.
Back in Mabel’s bedroom, Mabel started to fill the biggest bag she had in her room with clothes. She had to be careful with what she’d pack, sadly she didn’t have a license or a car yet and had to travel by bus, train, and foot. Her bag needed to be light enough to carry if anything were to go wrong.
She shoved as many things as she could in the bag and tested the bag. She opened back up the bag and took out what she judged as unnecessary, then tested it again. It took two more trials for the bag to be a good weight for Mabel, then she started shoving her essentials into her school bag. Her bigger bag was just for extra clothes that she could carry. Hopefully she could keep the bag but in the off chance that couldn’t happen, she’d dump it.
In her backpack she put her soap, a few clothes that she judged as small enough to not take up a lot of space but it would keep her decently warm when she got up north to check the ports there. If everything worked out for her, she could just wait out the worst of the cold.
Some things she didn’t even trust in her backpack, just in case. For instance, she took out the many pages of directions from the backpack when she was packing. It was a large stack, but Mabel took the time to fold each part and label them with permanent marker. Each folded note went into her fanny pack that she used once on a field trip back in 7th grade. Some of the old pins that she used to have on there had fallen off in the abyss of the closet. Along with the directions, Mabel shoved all the money she found and had along with the jewelry into it. As long as she had her funds, it would all be well. She also made sure to put the photo of young Great Uncle Stanford and Grunkle Stanley in there too. A dark blue sweater went over to cover the pink fanny pack that rested on her fresh donut hole T-shirt.
Mabel double checked the time. She had to get moving if she was going to catch the first train that would get her out of the state before her parents realized she wasn’t home. Mabel made sure to clear her browsing history and put the laptop in the spot it should have been downstairs before she started to gather her bags. Mabel stopped. Looking down she saw a photo frame on the ground blocking her path. She picked it up with her free hand. It was a photo of Mabel and Dipper’s 12th birthday. The last normal birthday they had together. Not like the other times where Dipper was leaving right after their birthday.
Mabel smiled.
As Mabel left the Pines residence, she didn’t bother to look back at the house that was at the center of a storm she would no longer like to be fighting alone.
All her bags packed, she walked with her set destination in the bag closest to her. Carrying two photographs close of pairs of siblings so close by DNA but so far apart.