Work Text:
It had started, in a way, with pancakes.
Well, not pancakes, exactly. 'Stancakes', whatever that meant. As far as Ford could tell, they mostly differed from pancakes only in that they had a downright alarming amount of curly white hair baked into them. She'd made herself oatmeal instead.
When he saw what she was having, Dipper had asked if he could have a bowl, too. Ford hadn't thought anything of it. She'd seen the Stancakes. And besides, she was still a little overwhelmed by the novelty of being able to decide that something looked inedible and just...get something else from the cupboard instead. It was a luxury she hadn't had a chance to appreciate in far, far too long.
She'd noticed Stanley leaving the kitchen shortly afterwards, grumbling something about early tour groups, but she hadn't paid it any mind. He wanted to turn her house into a roadside attraction, fine. He could deal with the consequences.
She hadn't thought anything of it. Just like she hadn't thought anything of it when she'd surfaced from the basement after a long and ultimately fruitless experiment to see if the rift could be broken down using subatomic vibrations, and had immediately been ambushed by Mabel, who had apparently run out of things to bezazzle and thought Ford's coat would make a perfect canvas. Just like she hadn't thought anything of it when Dipper had eagerly volunteered to help when she'd finally grown fed up with the flickering bulb over the kitchen table and set to work improving it. It was sweet that they wanted to spend time with her, and she indulged them as best she could, but there was work to be done and a world to save.
(And every so often she met Stanley's eyes over one of their heads and his words jabbed at her memory with a pair of brass knuckles. You stay away from the kids. I don't want them in danger.
She couldn't tell him, couldn't make him understand, that they all already were.)
...
"Can he not get it through his thick skull?"
Mabel tiptoed through the minefield of parts and equipment strewn across the floor, wincing at the crash as Ford tugged the panel off of her photocopier and tossed it aside. "I think Grunkle Stan is really trying."
"His trying doesn’t help me in the slightest,” Ford said, staring hard at the tangle of wires and relays she’d uncovered. Dammit, this was probably much too delicate for her to be working on in this kind of emotional state - was that a sandwich stuffed inside the machine? Oh, for the love of - “Can I not get one minute’s reprieve from being constantly reminded of my abnormalities in my own home?”
“I thought you liked that nickname,” Mabel said quietly, and Ford paused, trying to let the memory of how it had been tainted forever wash over her and dissipate, like she’d spent so long learning to do. Let the anger and betrayal fuel her instead of driving her to despair.
Somehow it was much harder than usual.
“That was before,” she said, shortly, reaching deep into the photocopier’s guts and pulling out the sandwich - or, rather, what was left of the sandwich. “And it wouldn’t matter so much if he could just keep my damn pronouns straight. It’s not such a difficult thing to ask, is it?”
“He’s really trying,” Mabel repeated. “And he’s gotten so much better! He just...he’s an old guy, and he thought he had a brother for, like, a million years. Can you give him a week or so to get used to having a sister instead?”
Ford laughed, and the photocopier’s innards reflected it back hollowly. “A week? A week is generous. It’s been nearly a month -”
“Two weeks,” Mabel mumbled, judging by the muffled quality of her voice, into the collar of her sweater.
“ - and he still slips. It’s not like he hasn’t had ample opportunity to learn. But no, not Stanley. Head in the sand whenever things start to get difficult or confusing, that’s my brother.” She drew back, looking over the tangle that was meant to be a circuit. “If you plan to hang around, you could give me a hand and pass me that soldering gun.”
“Great-Aunt Ford? Are you - Mabel!” Dipper’s voice from the doorway was surprised and a little breathless. “What are you doing here?”
“Just spending some quality time with my favourite great-aunt!” Mabel said, abruptly back to her usual bright tone. Ford half-turned to see her wrapping an arm around Dipper’s shoulders, an enormous beaming smile on her face. “How’s the best little brother in the whole wide world?”
“Ugh, Mabel, five minutes’ difference,” Dipper said, but he was smiling. “Great-Aunt Ford, do you think - you said maybe sometime today you would show me -”
“Yes, of course,” Ford said, a thought striking her. “Dipper, come over here and tell me if you see anything that might be causing this...melting malfunction you mentioned.”
“Sure!” Dipper said, ducking out of Mabel’s grip and hurrying across the room. Mabel’s smile dropped - thankfully, it was starting to hurt Ford’s face just to look at her - and she took a couple of shuffling steps backwards.
“Haha. Okay. You two nerds work your nerdy magic. I’m gonna...gonna go see if Grunkle Stan and Soos wanna play poker for chocolate-covered raisins. Or something.”
“Okay, have fun!” Dipper said, without looking back, crouching down beside the photocopier. “Whoa! What are all these crystals for?”
...
It hadn't taken Ford much time at all to realise the children were growing on her.
Certainly, she'd been delighted to discover that her extended family had grown in her absence, and the twins were adorable - and it was nice to have not only one, but two someones looking up to her. But Dipper was proving to be a surprisingly capable assistant, especially considering his age, and Ford had been absolutely floored by the insight and thoughtfulness of many of his questions and leaps of logic - not to mention the maturity and intelligence reflected by some of his notes in her journal. (She'd decided to ignore all the ones about someone named 'Wendy'. Ford had been twelve going on thirteen once herself, after all.)
And Mabel - well, Mabel was a force of nature, and even if her boundless energy, absolute self-confidence, creative but chaotic nature, and sheer loudness did occasionally remind Ford a little too strongly of a certain former friend, she was delightful to be around in small doses. Mabel had a knack, Ford was discovering, for finding original and unorthodox solutions to tricky problems, and she could make just about anything out of a handful of what Ford would have called junk - rather like another former friend Ford could name.
Dipper definitely had the capacity to understand and appreciate the seriousness of Ford's work, of what failure could mean for not just Gravity Falls but the entire world. Whereas Mabel had the potential to wreak untold havoc on the delicate work Ford was trying to do, but she also had the potential to find - or invent - answers that Ford herself would never have considered. And, of course, there was still Stanley's warning that forced Ford to keep both of the twins at arm's length.
It was a shame. She was really starting to see some of herself in each of them.
It was usually Dipper who was most curious about what Ford was up to, though, Dipper who clearly had the greater thirst for knowledge, so it came as a complete surprise when a clatter of small footsteps on the stairs behind her turned out to be, not an enthusiastic Dipper with some new discovery to share, but his twin sister, with a look of determination on her face and a sequinned disco ball on her sweater.
"Should I have installed a revolving door instead of a secret, locked entrance?" Ford asked, and Mabel waved a hand dismissively.
"Oh psshhh, Dipper's down here all the time. Which is why I came to get you! You two have been spending waaay too much time in this smelly old basement, and we're taking a break! You weren't doing anything important, right?"
"Actually -" Ford started, but Mabel had already grabbed her sleeve and was tugging her away from her research.
"Great! I already asked Candy and Grenda to meet us at the mall, and Wendy said she'd give us a ride over but she'll only come shopping with us if we buy her cheese fries at the food court!" Mabel turned, flashing an enormous smile up at Ford. "Get ready for some serious girl time!"
'Serious girl time', as it turned out, mostly involved trailing after Mabel and her friends as they ran in and out of candy-coloured jewellery and accessories stores, played video games in the arcade, and got free makeovers from the lady at the makeup counter in the department store. Mabel tried to convince Ford to go for one as well, but Ford looked at the frosted lipstick Grenda had ended up wearing and the aggressively pink blush Candy had wound up in and declined, trying not to meet the saleslady's eyes. Thankfully, Wendy had also declined, and looked like she was having real trouble keeping a straight face when Mabel came out of her makeover with bright neon-yellow shadow all around her eyes.
Almost despite herself, Ford realised she was actually enjoying herself. The girls' excitement was contagious, even when it was about bits of glittery pastel plastic jewellery or baby-faced teen heartthrobs or the myriad of other things that didn't really spark Ford's interest, and it was fascinating to see how much the town had changed since she'd been gone, and how much had stayed the same. And thankfully, Wendy turned out to be a surprisingly good conversational partner, with a truly impressive depth of knowledge about wilderness survival.
Still, Ford was about ready to head back home when Mabel gave her a searching look and said, "We haven't done anything for you yet!"
"I got to beat all three of you at Star Fighters," Ford pointed out, and Mabel canted her head to one side, her smile turning disbelieving.
"Yeah, but then Wendy kicked your butt. And you didn't get a makeover!"
"I didn't want one," Ford argued, but Mabel shook her head.
"No way, José! This was supposed to be a fun break for you, not just for us." Her eyes fixed on something over Ford's shoulder and widened for an instant, before narrowing. "And I know exactly what we're gonna do."
"Uh, Mabel, are you sure -" Wendy started to say, turning to look herself, and Mabel marched forward, cutting her off.
"Of course I'm sure! I'm always sure about everything! Come on, girls, we're getting Grauntie Ford some new clothes!"
The store was almost empty, but Ford still felt uncomfortably scrutinised as Mabel browsed the racks, pulling things out and holding them up to Ford with her usual exuberance. Ford was used to being the centre of attention - most of the dimensions she'd visited weren't all that familiar with humanoids, and even in her own, even when her intellect hadn't singled her out, her extra digits certainly had - but she couldn't remember ever feeling this much judgement in the attention she'd drawn. The other girls seemed to be aware of it, too, with Wendy scowling at anyone who looked too long and both Grenda and Candy turning unusually quiet. By the time Mabel was satisfied with her armful of clothes and hustled them all towards the changerooms, Ford was ready to go back home and retreat to the basement.
She couldn't fit into the first two things Mabel had picked out at all - tiny sequinned cocktail dresses, what had the girl been thinking - and the third, some sort of drapey garment that might have been a shirt or a dress and had entirely too many holes for the number of limbs Ford assumed the store's usual clientele had, was too horrifying to leave the small cubicle in. "People actually wear this stuff?" she asked, through the door, and was treated to a chorus of quickly-stifled giggles.
It only got worse from there. There was a red dress that she actually hadn't thought would be too bad, one that wrapped across the front with a jewelled buckle holding it closed at the waist. And it wasn't bad - on the hanger. It even sort of fit - at least, Ford could fit into it without feeling like she was in danger of tearing a seam. But as soon as she looked in the mirror, she knew there was no way she could leave the changeroom in this, no way she could face all those eyes. It - it was much too open in the front, where it wasn't flapping loose with excess fabric where it went out and she didn't. And she didn't really want to put all her scars and bad decisions on display, especially not like this.
Every other thing she tried had the same kind of issues. Too loud, too bright, too sheer, too revealing. Too much in one way or another. She looked absurd, ridiculous in all the frills and glitter Mabel had picked out. And nothing - nothing - fit her.
This had been a colossal mistake.
"Grauntie Foooooord! Are you ever going to show us how anything looks on you? Come onnnnn!”
Finally, Ford pulled her turtleneck sweater back on over a simple black skirt, pulling the sweater down to cover the way the skirt bagged around her hips, and pushed the door open. Mabel's eyes almost instantly lit up with delight at the sight of her, and she elbowed Candy in the side. "Doesn't she look cute?"
"Mabel Pines? Without your brother? I thought you two were, like, joined at the hip."
Mabel spun, a cautious smile blooming across her face, to face the blonde girl who had stopped just outside of the changerooms. "Pacifica! You haven't met my great-aunt yet, have you? Ford, this is Pacifica Northwest!"
"...charmed," the blonde girl said, looking Ford over like she wasn't quite sure what to make of her before turning back to Mabel. "Isn't your great-uncle's name Stanford?"
"We're twins," Ford said, shortly. The least the girl could do if she was going to stare was actually talk to her. "Our father wasn't particularly creative."
"Tell me about it." The girl - Pacifica - rolled her eyes with a sympathetic wince, relaxing slightly. "Are you shopping for...dresses?"
"And skirts! And anything prettier than thirty-year-old clothes you did science in." Mabel's glare was as pointed as her words. Ford met it with a stare of her own.
"There is absolutely nothing wrong with my wardrobe -"
"Except that it's boring!" Mabel interrupted.
"Fine! That's the least of my concerns. At least my old clothes actually fit."
Mabel planted both hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. Ford matched her glare for glare. Somewhere beside Mabel, Ford noticed Grenda and Candy exchanging uncomfortable looks, but she didn't break eye contact with her great-niece.
"Uh, Mabel? You said this was supposed to be fun -" Grenda started, and Pacifica tossed her hair, stepping forward in between Ford and Mabel.
"Of course none of this fits, nothing off the rack is going to fit. That's what custom tailoring is for, obviously." She put one hand on her hip and tapped the index finger of the other hand against her lower lip thoughtfully. "And that shape is all wrong for you. You're going to want to balance your top half, not emphasise it. Lucky for you, it looks like you've got a great waist under that knitwear monstrosity." She snapped her fingers, and a man in formal clothes and a nametag came rushing over.
"Yes, Miss Northwest?"
"Harry, bring over..." Pacifica gave Ford a thoughtful once-over, but somehow it didn't make Ford feel so much like wanting to duck back into the changeroom and slam the door. "Plain black A-line skirt, size...medium, I think, with a high waist, about knee length. And one in navy. And let's try that burgundy top over there with the cowl neck, and - you had a coat like that in the window last week, didn't you? Fawn and gathered in the back with -"
"Princess seaming, yes, Miss Northwest. I might still have a few in the back."
"Good. Go look." The man scurried off, and Pacifica looked around at the girls all watching her. "What? This is, like, fashion 101."
"I think everyone did not go to the same school as you did," Candy said, diplomatically.
Ford hadn't had high hopes for anything Pacifica had suggested, but to her surprise, the A-line skirts did seem to balance out her shoulders and didn't bunch up around her hips at all (and offered a much greater range of movement, which was a huge relief), even though the top Pacifica had picked out still left Ford feeling a little more exposed than she cared for. And the coat, when it was finally found...well. It did gather in the back, right at her waist, huge folds of heavy fabric that flowed out into a skirt worthy of an evening gown. When she spun, it rippled out behind her like water, still swinging moments after she'd stopped moving. And the lines of seaming that stretched down both the back and front left no room for anything to flap around loose, hugging her shape and elegantly exaggerating every curve and sleek line.
She hadn't felt so - so pretty since Bill -
"It's perfect," she said, cutting the memory off abruptly.
"Aah. Yup," Mabel said, looking at the price tag and, for the first time, looking less than excited. "I'm sure Grunkle Stan can -"
"Oh, don't worry about paying for it," Pacifica said, breezily. "This is all on the Northwest tab."
"What? Pacifica, you don't have to do that."
"Actually..." Pacifica's ears turned pink, and she looked away, affecting disinterest. "My parents never did pay Dipper for getting rid of that ghost. Let me pay for this and we'll call it even."
"Ghost?" Ford asked, and both girls turned to look up at her.
"Oh! Yeah, my parents hired Dipper to trap this ghost that was ruining our party after he made the papers for getting rid of this, like, giant bat or whatever that was bugging the townies." Pacifica flipped her hair again, but her ears were still pink. "He found out that the ghost was actually haunting us because of a curse and worked out how to break it."
"Don't forget who did the actual curse-breaking!" Mabel said brightly, and Pacifica actually flushed bright red.
"Yeah. Well, I have to get back, I have dinner at the country club at five. It was...nice. Running into you." She shot the group of gathered Pines and friends a smile that, for the first time since Ford had met her, looked genuine. Then, a pained expression crossing her face, and she said to Ford, almost as an aside, "Just - please, for the love of Galliano, don't wear that with those boots."
"Well, that didn't go nearly as horribly as I expected," Wendy said, as Pacifica walked out of the store, seeming to sum up everyone's feelings on the matter. "Come on, let's get out of here, there's a platter of cheese fries out there somewhere calling my name."
"Fiiiiiiine. But Pacifica's right. Tomorrow..." Mabel's eyes narrowed in determination, and she squared her shoulders dramatically, striking a pose like a conquering explorer. "We shop for shoes."
"I'm not giving these boots up," Ford grumbled, mostly to herself, as Mabel, Candy, and Grenda tore off towards the food court. "I'm not going to get another pair with unobtanium-alloy toes, not in this dimension."
She noticed the look Wendy was giving her, and raised an eyebrow in question.
Wendy shrugged. "Hey, I hear ya." She kicked up her own rain-booted foot. "If you can settle for earthly amounts of protection, though, they totally sell steel-toe inserts that you can put in just about any shoe you want. You know. In case you want some options."
"You're serious," Ford said, in disbelief, and Wendy smiled.
"Welcome to the future."
Ford smiled back, and then paused, a thought striking her. "I meant to ask earlier, but this ghost business has reminded me. You wouldn't happen to be the 'Wendy' from Dipper's notes, would you?"
Wendy's eyes flicked towards the exit and back. "Uhhh, depends. Do those notes make it harder for you to take Dipper seriously? Like, because you read them, and now you know more about what's going through Dipper's head than you ever wanted to, and you can't un-think about it every time you have to see us together, which is, like, all the time? Because in that case, nope, definitely some other Wendy."
"No, nothing like that." Ford shrugged off the new coat with a pang, folding it carefully. "Actually, I'm most interested in a misadventure he wrote about regarding a shapeshifter...?"
...
"Hey poindexter, I think you got a shadow."
Ford looked up at the sound of Stan’s voice, just in time to catch sight of her great-niece’s head pulling back around the doorframe. “Mabel? Is something the matter?”
For a moment, she thought Mabel had left already, before the girl shuffled into the room, hands held behind her back and eyes on the floor. "Soooo..." she started, scuffing one toe against the floor. "Maybe I might've sort of kinda... been a little pushy about the whole serious girl time thing." She glanced up at Ford, eyes wide and her lower lip jutting out. "But you and Dipper are always hanging out doing sciencey stuff, and I really did want to do something fun with you! I just should've made sure you were having fun too."
"What makes you think I wasn't?" Ford asked, and Mabel shrugged.
"I know you weren't having fun clothes shopping until Pacifica showed up." Her gaze dropped back to the floor, and she muttered something that sounded like, "Pacifica did a better job of being a great-niece than me today."
"What? Mabel, that's not true." Ford put down the book she'd been reading, kneeling down to put her on eye level with Mabel. "It was very nice of your friend to offer her advice, but I wouldn't have been there to hear it in the first place if you hadn't taken me out." She sighed, looking away from Mabel's brimming eyes for a moment as she admitted, "I have, it must be said, been putting off obtaining a new wardrobe. It didn't seem important -"
"What?" Mabel gasped. "But awesome clothes are always important!"
Ford couldn't keep the smile off her face. "You know, you're absolutely right. I hadn't anticipated how much better it would feel even just to have a few more feminine clothing options, although -" She grinned at Mabel, who managed a small smile of her own. "I think the makeovers you girls received would have been a bit much for me."
"You don't need to use all that stuff, you know," Mabel said, sounding a little more confident. "It's just more fun the more colours you use!" She gasped, and clapped both hands to her cheeks, an enormous smile overtaking her face. "I could give you a makeover! And show you how to use all kinds of beauty products! Candy and Grenda and I have been practicing on each other all summer, we’re practically experts.”
Ford thought she really deserved some kind of award for managing not to turn and glare at Stanley at the sound of a poorly-suppressed snort from his direction. “That’s very kind of you. Mabel, I have to ask, what is that you've got pressed against your face?”
Mabel looked down at the expanse of purple knit clasped in one hand, and beamed. "Oh! I know you didn't find a top you liked...so I made you one!" She held up the garment by the shoulders, shaking it a little until Ford took it from her.
It wasn't, as Ford had feared when she'd heard the words 'made it', covered in either glitter or frills. It was in fact a very simple and even - dared she say it? -tasteful turtleneck sweater, in a deep purple colour.
Across the front, in white letters, were the words "World's #1 Great-Aunt!"
Mabel had tucked her hands behind her back again, rocking back and forth on her heels. "Soooo...do you like it?"
"Mabel, this is..." Ford had to clear her throat, hard, before she could finish the sentence. "It's perfect. I'm going to try it on right now."
As she pulled her sweater over her head, she was sure she caught a glimpse of Stanley smiling over his newspaper.
...
“You’re a good person too.”
Ford jumped at the sound, only relaxing when she saw it was Mabel. She’d been on edge since Bill had shown his miserable face in her dream the night before, and she only hoped she’d be able to sleep easy now that the Shack was protected.
She brushed her hair back from her face, offering Mabel an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch that.”
Mabel shrugged. “You told me I was a good person when I came back with the unicorn hair, and I remembered you told us about the unicorns in the first place, so I thought maybe...” She canted her head to one side, holding up the object she’d been carrying. “Anyway, here’s your crossbow back. Thanks for letting me borrow it! We mostly used our fists, but it was good for intimidating gnomes, Candy says.”
“Well, you can tell Candy that she’s welcome to borrow it if she ever needs it again,” Ford said. Mabel beamed.
“Great! She wanted to see if she could make it shoot fire arrows without burning her hands off.” She turned, like she was about to leave, but then spun a full circle on one heel before spinning back to face Ford again. “You know the unicorns were lying about the ‘pure of heart’ thing, right?”
Ford had to pause and shake her head, unsure that she’d heard correctly. “I’m sorry? The unicorns were lying?”
“Yeah.” A shadow crossed Mabel’s face, and she said, “Two of them even told me! That’s just what they say to make nosy people go away.”
“But their horns -”
“All they do is light up and play rave music.” The tone of betrayed anger in Mabel’s voice was so familiar that Ford instantly felt her heart go out to the girl. Their situations were, of course, as different as night and day, but after how enthused Mabel had been about seeking out unicorns in the first place, there was no doubt in Ford’s mind that she’d really loved them. To discover that they’d been lying to her all along - well. Ford could definitely sympathise with that. “And Celestabellabethebelle even told me that my heart would never be pure! Stupid old - horse!” Mabel smacked a fist into the palm of her other hand. “Anyway, I need a new favourite mythological creature now.”
“What about a sphinx?” Ford suggested, and Mabel shook her head.
“Too bitey. Although I bet they’re super fluffy!” Her eyes went wide, and she turned an eager look in Ford’s direction. “Are fairies -”
Ford grimaced. “Not much better than unicorns, I’m afraid.”
“Hmm.” Mabel snapped her finger. “Wait, I know! Mermaids! Mermando is definitely deserving of my love.”
“Merman- Mabel, did you meet a mermaid?”
“Oh yeah,” Mabel said, waving a hand like it wasn’t anything particularly special. “We broke him out of the Gravity Falls public pool. Dipper had to give him mouth-to-mouth!” She lowered her voice, leaning closer, and Ford knelt down so Mabel could whisper in her ear. “I totally have pictures.”
“I’ve never been able to prove the existence of mermaids! I didn’t think there were any in Gravity Falls!” Ford reached into her jacket, pulling out the notebook she’d started to keep since returning to her home dimension and a pen. “Do you mind if I take notes?”
...
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Ford glanced up from the bandage she was wrapping around her arm. "I was injured trying to retrieve an adhesive on which the fate of the entire world now rests. You should be very proud of Dipper, he did marvellously today -"
"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it." Stan jabbed an accusing finger at Ford, and she scowled. This was starting to get old. "This 'apprenticeship' bull? What is that supposed to be?"
"Exactly what it sounds like." Ford stared down at the bandage as she wrapped it mechanically around her arm. "I should have known you'd want to hold Dipper back from his full potential. After all these years, you're still jealous."
"Jealous? You think this is about me?" Stan threw his arms wide. "I thought you and Mabel were actually starting to get along! Can't you see how close those two are? I wanna see the kid succeed as much as you do, but I'm not gonna make him choose between that and his sister!"
"No one is making him choose between his sister and anything!" Ford countered, hotly. She didn't know how Stan had found out about the offer of apprenticeship she'd made to Dipper, and frankly she didn't care. It wasn't any of his business to begin with. "I've offered him an opportunity he won't find anywhere else. Mabel is more than welcome to stay here with him, there's nothing stopping her."
"Oh yeah. Nothing but her parents! And she'd have to pick up and move her whole life out here on her own, just so you can ignore her."
"Oh, now you want me to spend time with the children?" Ford tied off the bandage, crossing her arms as she stared Stan down. "I thought I was - what was it - putting them in danger."
Stan looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he just shook his head. "I shoulda known better than to expect you to get it."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
Stan's gaze was hard. "That after all these years, you still haven't learned a damn thing."
"Oh, please, Stanley." Ford pushed herself up, grabbing her coat from the back of the chair she'd slung it across. "Tell me, what was I supposed to learn that would have made me less of a disappointment to you?"
"Maybe how to think about anybody other than yourself?"
"Other than - this is the best thing that I could possibly do for Dipper! He'll be around someone who can understand what he's going through better than his parents can - you know they haven't even put him on puberty blockers? And he'll have a teacher who can appreciate his intellect and engage with him on his level instead of having to run after an entire classroom, he'll be able to pursue his passions -"
"You mean your passions -”
"Because you've been so encouraging of his interests and haven't tried to force yours on the boy at all. Don't think I didn't notice that left hook." Ford dropped the roll of bandages back into the drawer she'd taken it from. "Do you think this wasn’t an immensely difficult decision for me? But - Mabel is brave, adaptable, determined, creative - and capable of making friends with almost any sentient being, it seems. And she’s not interested in pursuing the paranormal. She doesn't need my help. While Dipper - he could do great things, incredible things, but with where his interests lie, he's going to need guidance.” She slammed the drawer shut. “Not to mention that he has next to no support otherwise, beyond Mabel. And you can't rely on only one person to carry you like that!"
"Dipper Pines has plenty of support!"
"Really? His parents think his identity is a phase he's going to grow out of! And he's your great-nephew, your charge for the summer, your responsibility, and you've been discouraging his interest in the paranormal -"
"You've never met their parents! And I was trying to keep either of them from getting hurt! Like you were!"
"Were you trying to keep him from getting hurt when you were teasing him about being a bookworm? About not being masculine enough?"
Stan was silent for a moment. Finally, he said, heavily, "Of course he told you that."
"He mentioned in passing how you'd said you were trying to 'toughen him up'." Ford couldn't keep the scorn from her voice as she said, "I'm sure our father would be so proud."
"You know what?" Stan said, at last, still staring at the mirror. "I'm done with this. I'm sick and tired of you acting like you're the only person in the world who's ever suffered." He took a step back out of the bathroom. "In thirty years you haven't changed one damn bit. And you never will."
"I could say the same of you -"
"And what you're doing to these kids?" Stan finally looked over, meeting Ford's eyes, and a crooked, aching smile crossed his face as he said, "Bet Dad'd be so proud of both of us."
...
The steps that took her down into the basement were almost automatic by now.
This was no time for...personal feelings, Ford tried to remind herself, as she scoured her old journals. She knew her notes on the UFO were somewhere in one of these, but she couldn't remember which one, and after thirty years, she wasn't going to try to use the adhesive without instructions and risk sealing all of her fingers together, forever. And of course, that wasn't all she was looking for, wasn't why she'd taken the third journal back from Dipper in the first place, wasn't why she'd spent so long poring over things that had ceased to be world-shattering wonders for her a long, long time ago. There had to be something here, something she’d missed, some weakness or flaw that Cipher might have given away in his thoughtless bragging, knowing she wouldn’t understand until it was too late. Time was scarce, and there was so much hanging in the balance. She couldn’t afford distractions.
But it was hard, seeing her own notes and remembering how bright the future had seemed, finally, finally, after so long thinking all was lost. Remembering how every breath she’d taken when she’d first set foot in Gravity Falls had seemed charged, like every tree was hiding a new possibility, like anything might happen if she just stood still and opened her eyes and waited. There were so many half-finished entries, so many things she’d meant to do, to try, to investigate, so much potential that it had nearly overwhelmed her -
And in ten words, it all came crashing back down.
In Gravity Falls, there is no one you can trust.
The page blurred, and Ford screwed her eyes shut, angrily brushing away the traitorous tears before they could fall and further ruin her journal. She slammed the cover shut, shaking her head at her own weakness as she reached into her pocket. This was no time for reminiscing, no time for sentimentality. She had to get the rift sealed - the - get the rift -
All of her pockets were empty.
Ford remembered Dipper slipping the protective globe into his backpack at the same time as she heard a door slam and a frantic shout from somewhere overhead.
"Mabel, wait!"
...
"So this is how the world ends. Not with a bang, but with a...bloop-bloop."
"Weirdmageddon," Dipper said, with a trace of awe in his voice.
It was Ford's word, her prediction. For once in her life, she wished she'd been wrong.
There was no time to dwell, though, no time to run through the long list of mistakes that had brought them to this point. There might still be time to set all of this right, but only if they acted fast -
"Oh no. Mabel!"
Dipper's voice cracked on his sister's name, but he didn't even seem to notice, which gave Ford her first and only clue that something was very wrong before Dipper launched himself towards the treeline. She just managed to grab hold of his backpack, hauling him back behind the protective barrier around the house just as a wave of - something, a shift in the colour and the pitch of the world that made the hairs along the back of Ford's neck frizzle and a stench of ozone and bubblegum fill her nose, washed over the clearing, driving creatures both animal and paranormal out of the trees before it.
She held onto Dipper's pack, despite his obvious efforts to get free, until the trees stopped shaking and, in places, turning into cotton candy and entrails. She only lowered him to the ground when he stopped kicking, and even though she knew she'd done the right thing in keeping safe the only twin she knew she could still protect, the lost look he turned toward her still tore Ford's heart to shreds. "Why did you stop me? Mabel's out there! If she got caught in...whatever that was, then she needs our help!"
"Dipper -" Ford started, crouching to meet Dipper's eyes and placing a hand on his shoulder, but the words she'd planned to say, to steel his resolve and stir his spirit, suddenly felt like chalk in her throat. Dipper had no idea of what might have happened to his sister, had no litany of well-remembered horrors playing themselves out in his mind's eye. That much was obvious from the fear that flickered behind his unwavering stare, warring with hope. Dipper didn't realise what could already have happened. He'd only had the briefest taste of what Bill Cipher was capable of.
He hadn't even considered that it might already be too late.
On the other hand, if there was even the faintest sliver of hope that Mabel wasn't beyond saving, then - then they owed it to her to try. And after all, as Ford had just been about to tell Dipper, sometimes heroism was nothing more than holding onto hope even when things seemed impossible.
"Go find your sister," she said, at last, and Dipper nodded, his face betraying his fear for a moment before determination set his features. Ford straightened, turning her gaze towards the sucking gap in the sky over the town. "We might still be able to stop this, if we can blast Bill back through the rift and seal it behind him. I have something that might do the trick, if I can get close enough. I'll meet you out there. And Dipper..."
Dipper paused, at the foot of the stairs, looking back up at Ford. It struck her suddenly how very small he was, how young.
She wanted to say something inspirational, something that would be worthy of the look that Dipper was giving her. But in the end, all she could think of, all she said, was "Good luck."
...
Ford heard the laughter before she saw anything.
She skidded to a stop just before the lights she saw through the trees, listening to Bill’s gloating cackle with a surge of hate boiling in the pit of her stomach. She kept an eye on the flickering as she dropped to a crouch, opening the massive case she’d brought with her and reverently lifting out the weapon she’d toted across ten dimensions just in case this ever happened. In case she ever got this chance.
She froze at the sound of Dipper’s voice, rising over the laughter, cracking sharply in desperation. “Bill! Let Mabel go!”
Ford shouldered the blaster and carefully ventured closer, trying to find a position where she could get Bill in her sights without being seen herself. An icy hand wrapped itself around her heart at the sight of her old friend, her worst enemy, as solid as he had ever seemed when they were sharing her thoughts and almost too bright, too vivid, for reality. Thankfully, that hateful eye hadn't so much as darted in Ford's direction, fixed on the small figure in the trucker hat and puffy blue vest who stood defiant in front of him. For a moment, Ford was so proud she thought she was going to choke.
She didn't see Mabel.
"GOTTA BE HONEST, PINE TREE, I'M REALLY CURIOUS ABOUT WHAT YOU'RE PLANNING TO DO IF I DON'T!" Bill's single eye turned up at the corners, and he settled back, reclining on thin air. Ford knelt down, to ground herself better against the kickback which was sure to be enormous, and carefully lined Bill up in her sights, trying to find an angle that would frame him against the jagged tear in the sky. "BECAUSE FROM HERE, IT SURE LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE HELPLESS!"
"I -" Dipper's voice faltered, and Ford froze, waiting until he spoke again to cover the sound of her shifting position. "I don't care! I'm not going to let you take my sister!"
There. If she knelt just here and held the blaster just like that, Bill was perfectly in line to be thrown back through the rift when she shot him. It was a bit farther from him to the rift than she would’ve liked, but with the energy from the shot, momentum should carry him the whole way, and hopefully he’d be at least disoriented enough from the blast to -
That was when Ford saw the bubble.
She hadn’t been able to from her previous position, it had been obscured by trees. But now, she had a clear view of the large ball, about the height of a child, hovering at Bill’s elbow and slowly pulsing with a sickly bruise-purple light.
And through its translucent skin, she could just make out a familiar silhouette.
Ford took a deep breath, and let it out, trying to regain her focus. This had to be another of Bill’s tricks. Had to be. And even if it wasn’t, getting rid of Bill would destroy the bubble. Had to. Never mind that the bubble was right within range, and that it was a risk to try to blast Bill back through the rift from here. Never mind that if she missed this shot, Bill wouldn’t give her a chance to make a second. She had a job to do. The fate of the universe was resting on her shoulders.
“HOW? NO JOURNALS, NO WEAPONS, NO FRIENDS -” Bill leaned forward, his eye widening as he loomed over Dipper, who took a step back but then held his ground. “FACE IT, KIDDO, YOU’VE ALREADY LOST!”
"It doesn't matter." Dipper's voice was quiet, but determined. "Mabel wouldn't give up on me."
Ford took a breath, steadied her aim, and fired.
The bubble popped.
Dipper spun as bits of a purple, jellyish substance spattered down around him, hope dawning on his face as he ran to catch Mabel as she fell. Ford only had an instant to let relief wash over her before Bill’s single eye turned on her, fury burning in his gaze. She took aim again, as Bill raised an arm and pointed at her.
The world exploded in her face.
Ford hit the ground, hard, on her back, a sharp whine filling her ears as the sky spun overhead. She didn’t have more than a moment to catch her breath before she was abruptly yanked into the air, tossed around like a rag doll as she was dragged up in front of Bill, eye-to-single-glaring-eye. Ford tried to move, and found her limbs frozen in place. Below her, she thought she saw movement, and hoped that Dipper and Mabel were getting away while Bill was distracted with her.
“WELL WELL WELL! I DON’T HEAR FROM YOU FOR THIRTY YEARS, AND THEN TWICE IN ONE WEEK? I’M FLATTERED, FORDSY, BUT DON’T YOU THINK THIS MAKES YOU LOOK A LITTLE DESPERATE?”
“You invaded my dream,” Ford growled. “I don't think I'm the one in danger of looking desperate.”
Bill cackled, diminishing slightly in size. “OHHH MAN, I MISSED THAT SENSE OF HUMOUR!” He leaned over, wrapping an arm companionably around Ford’s shoulders, and Ford tried fruitlessly to pull away. “THAT’S WHY THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE TIMELINES! YOU KNOW, IN A THOUSAND MILLION TIMELINES, YOU ACTUALLY GOT THE DROP ON ME! SNUCK INTO A CLOCK TOWER, FLEW A UFO UP ON ME, EVEN PRETENDED TO JOIN MY GANG SO YOU COULD STAB ME IN THE BACK! BUT THIS YOU...”
Bill didn’t have a mouth, but he didn’t really need one. Ford could feel the gloating smirk emanating from his triangular face. She tried to twist in midair, trying to break free from the force holding her in place, but Bill just laughed in her face.
“I KNEW I COULD COUNT ON THIS YOU TO DO SOMETHING...STUPID! LIKE TRYING TO SAVE YOUR UNGRATEFUL FAMILY INSTEAD OF THE WORLD! SERIOUSLY, HOW DUMB IS THAT?” He patted Ford on the shoulder, flicking an imaginary tear from his eye. “BUT HEY! AT LEAST YOUR BAD DECISIONS BROUGHT US BACK TOGETHER! AND I WOULDN’T’VE BEEN ABLE TO GET THIS APOCALYPSE STARTED WITHOUT YOU!” He froze in mid-pat, turning from proudly surveying the yellowed sky and the x-shaped gash torn through it to look at Ford. “GOTTA SAY, SIXER, WE WORK BETTER TOGETHER! SO MUCH BETTER THAT I THINK I MIGHT JUST HAVE TO KEEP YOU AROUND!”
It felt like a bucket of icewater had just been dumped down Ford’s spine. Silently, inwardly, she hoped that Dipper had gotten Mabel well away by now.
Bill was watching her, and if Ford didn’t know better, she’d think that the look he was giving her was expectant. “I’VE GOT SOME FRIENDS COMING I KNOW YOU’LL LIKE! THEY’RE A BUNCHA FREAKS AND WEIRDOS JUST LIKE YOU!” He flung his arms wide, and the look of pure delight in his eye sent a pang through Ford like lightning, a sudden and agonizing reminder of everything she’d lost. “WELL, WHADDAYA SAY? IT’D BE JUST LIKE OLD TIMES!”
“No,” Ford rasped.
Bill raised his eyebrow, a dangerous look in his eye.
“No,” Ford repeated, with more confidence this time. “I’ll die before I join you.”
Bill’s eye narrowed. “LUCKY FOR YOU, THAT’S AN OPTION!”
"Hey, you reject pyramid! Let go of my sister!"
Bill turned, spinning Ford with him. Ford could honestly say, of all the strange things she’d seen in her lifetime, this was the most surprising.
Riding astride - was that the goat from the Mystery Shack increased exponentially in size? - and brandishing one of Ford’s blasters in each hand, a look of grim determination creasing his face, was her twin brother.
“Stanley?” Ford asked, half in delight, half in disbelief. Beside her, Bill raised a hand, but whatever he was about to do, he didn’t get the chance. A screaming blue bolt from the weapon Stan brandished blew Bill’s hand clean off at the wrist, exposing ropes of muscle and shining bone.
Bill sighed, sounded annoyed, as the gore wove itself back into the shape of a hand, letting go of Ford’s shoulders. “SHEESH, HAVE YOU PINES EVER HEARD OF A SELF-PRESERVATION INSTINCT? YOU DON’T GO UP AGAINST A DEMIGOD WITH A COUPLE OF POPGUNS AND A - WHAT IS IT DOING? LET GO OF MY LEG!”
He turned to point at the goat, which had bit down on Bill’s foot and was calmly, almost casually, chewing its way along his leg. Before he could do anything to it, though, Stan had leaned forward over the goat’s head.
Bill didn’t even have time to start making a smarmy comment before Stan fired, point-blank, into the dead centre of his eye.
The shrieking that followed was like nothing Ford had ever heard on Earth, and only a few things she’d heard off it even came close to comparing. The goat looked like it was doing its animal best to frown, and shook its head a few times, shaking Bill with it. On the apex of the last shake, it let go.
The last Ford saw of Bill was the glowing yellow triangle sailing over the trees towards town, the unearthly screaming fading as he disappeared.
"How's that for a demigod?" Stan crowed, as the force that had held Ford aloft abruptly gave way and she dropped onto the goat's bony back, just behind Stan. He half-turned to face her, his triumphant grin starting to fade. "You okay, six- Ford?"
"Well, I'm going to be sore in the morning," Ford sighed, unable to keep a smile of sheer relief from her own face. "Like I told Dipper, I’m getting too old for this.”
"What, not even a -” Stan started, and Ford looked up and met his eyes. Stan’s smile faltered, and he held out the blasters to Ford, handle-first. “Yeah, I know. Sorry about taking your stuff, but I didn’t want to come looking for the kids without some kinda defenses, and I didn’t think a shotgun would do the trick. You’ve gotta have seen some of the stuff that’s been coming outta that glowy rip in the sky -”
“Stanley,” Ford said, and Stan stopped talking. “What you just did was stupid, and dangerous, and -” She took a deep breath. “And incredibly brave.”
“Ford -”
She turned her face away. “But it won’t keep Bill down for long. We should go find Dipper and Mabel.”
Stan looked, for a moment, like he was going to push it, but finally, thankfully, he just smiled and pushed one of the blasters into Ford’s hands. “You shoot. I’ll steer.”
Ford smiled back, and took the blaster.