Chapter Text
Mabel watches as a young Stanford Pines is on the losing side of a war, within his own mind.
Pacing back and forth, mumbling to himself. But that was normal, Dipper does that daily. But the sheer franticness of his mumbles and turns so sharp he almost lost his balance, twice.
If Mabel had to guess, he’s trying to figure out what to do first. Forming a mental To-Do list and trying to find out what priorities came first. He mumbles something before scurrying away, she hopes getting her a blanket is in, at least, the top three.
She looks around the entry she no longer recognizes, still shaking from the cold. If her young Grunkle is acting like this, Bill must be around too.
Mabel read about it, or as much as her Grunkles let her. Unfortunately, the censorship gave her mind the opportunity to run wild. She blurted out the sillier ones to Dipper, keeping the more serious thoughts to herself.
So much different from Ford Pines, the adventurous great uncle she knows; determined and calm (ish) in the face of danger, and an unquenchable curiosity that makes him stick his nose (and the rest of his face) into places he shouldn't.
Unstoppable.
Brave.
This Stanford looked like he lost a fight with a bear.
And then the Gremloblin came along and kicked him for good measure.
He was shivering from a chill that had set deep in his bones, evidence of frostbite on his jaw, along with a fearful look in his eyes. His hands are bandaged, recently if the blood showing through has anything to say about it.
While long since melted, when he opened the door, frost had clung to his hair. His skin has a tone of blue that suggests he’s been outside, in the freezing snow, for quite some time.
She hears footsteps and sees he’s come back, crossbow still in hand. He froze to look at her, almost confused to see her still there.
He's shaking and frantic, stepping this way and that as if trying to figure out where to go. When he finally picked a direction he placed the crossbow by the door, “I'm… gonna see if there's any blankets… clean ones anyway. Don't!- Don't leave this room, for your safety.” He said quickly, backing out of the room and speedily walking somewhere else.
Mabel just watched all of this while shivering; he was right, it really was not much better inside.
-
Ford Pines is running through the woods. Time Tape in his pocket, he sprints through the many trees, Gnomes and other creatures poking their heads up as he whirls past them.
Once he broke through the treeline, he ran around the main area of Town. Soon he passes old, gold gates with the initials N W on each respectfully, running up the long driveway to the manor doors. He knocked with purpose and franticness, feeling both in great abundance.
“Fiddleford?! F, please, are you here?!” He called as he knocked, stumbling ever so slightly as his fist suddenly met empty air. The former crazy kook of the town answering the door, banjo raised and poised to strike.
“Nahw what in tarnation! Stanferd! A wonder ta see ya friend!” McGucket smiled big, lowering the banjo. He has been looking better since Weirdmaggedon, straightened posture, actual clothes, his once long white beard was now responsibly cut and braided. Overall, he looked nice.
Fiddleford opens his arms for a hug, which Ford grants. (He feels a guilty happiness, that after how he treated F, he’s still worthy of a hug from him.)
Stanford smiled, flattered and relieved (on the inside, if it showed, it was slight) at the word ‘Friend’. (A Friend. Does he really deserve to be called a friend, or a brother, now that he thinks about it.)
McGucket cackles, “Now! What brings yer all the way out here!”
Ford’s smile dropped, remembering the importance of his visit. He digs into his trench coat and pulls out the busted Time Tape, “I believe Mabel is in trouble. I have reason to theorize this device had stranded her somewhere in time!” he holds out the Tape to his friend, “Please, my friend, I need her back.”
Fiddleford gave a breath of a laugh, a huff really, “Stanferd Pines sayin’ ‘Please’.” He muses, straightening up and holding out his hand for the device, “Alright! Hand it over! We’ll get yer little Gumdrop back, don’t ya worry none!”
-
Mabel’s feet couldn’t help but wander, wanting to explore how different the house was. She was sure her young Grunk got side tracked from getting her a blanket, to her credit she did stay five minutes before moving. His brain seemed scattered, so he probably forgot she was there again.
She poked her head into what was gonna be Stan’s TV room, but it’s just filled with experiments and curiosities. She does smile at the T-Rex skull that would be their coffee table, Skully, she had lovingly named it.
The kitchen was in the same spot, yet it looks like it’s where food goes to die then be eaten. Magnets of the fridge pointed to nothing at the bottom, saying ‘LOOKY HERE’.
She doesn’t want to talk about the bathroom.
She finally finds the living room, one of the future display rooms.
A fire was lit in the fireplace, a chess board with a cup of tea was on the coffee table, and a TV with just static fuzz. She tapped her chin while looking at the VHS, tapping her chin as she tried to remember the one her parents had when she was a tot, still there but rarely used. She pressed rewind, and it worked. She warms up by the fire as she waits.
She heard mechanism sounds and assumed the tape was done.
She pressed play. Stanford was on the screen, with a sock puppet of himself, but she knew it wasn’t him. Bill started talking from her Grunkle’s mouth, “WELCOME BACK TO PUPPET HOUR WITH BILL!” His too-wide smile ready to split his face, “Say Hi, Kids! Today’s Puppet is my old pal Sixer. Sixer’s had a rough day. But his night was even rougher. Wanna see?”
She pressed pause before anything. She held a hand over her eyes, fast forwarding the VHS, peeking every so often. She stopped when she just saw a phone, Bill using Ford’s body to limp towards it. He picked up the phone, dialed, “Hey, Brother, it’s Sixer. I’m going to take a swim in the frozen lake tomorrow, and I might not ever come back, so if you don’t hear from me, I just want you to know that it’s because I never Loved you. BUH-BYEEEEE.”
Mabel slammed the eject button, tossing the tape across the room, sliding on the carpet to a halt.
She sits flat on her butt, hugging her legs under sweater. She sniffles, remembering the note from Bill. She hears footsteps racing all over the house before stopping beside her. She didn’t need to see who it was.
He was clearly stressing about her seeing the tape, she knows he’s talking but it's just noise.
"You! Why are you here? It's dangerous, I said wait by the door.-"
Stanford is confused why this girl isn’t more scared. It’s the dead of winter, his house is a horror show come to life, and he knows he doesn’t even look close to mentally stable. He tries to get his point across as she walks towards him. He takes some shuffling steps back, stopping when she hugged his leg.
He tensed up tight, staring at her, she looked back with those big, teary, brown eyes, “I’m so sorry that happened.”
He does nothing to return the gesture, but he stays like that, calming down some. He thinks about what Bill said in the Blackness, he sighs, at least one person might care if he died.
-
As they sat on barstools in the kitchen, Ford was bouncing a leg, nervous. “Thank you, Fidds.” the hillbilly smiled, “Of course! Anything fer family I say!” Fiddleford cheerily said, going back to tinkering. Ford pressed his lips together, he doesn't know how much he'd remembered about them aside from being friends. He doesn't know if Fidds remembered his crass attitude towards Family, he's rather ashamed of it, especially after reading his Journals again.
Ford, sitting at the counter, arms pillowing his head, watches as Fiddleford tinkers the Tape, seeing his old friend shine under all that hillbilly. A thought came to him, and he says without thinking, “I’m surprised you stayed in town this whole time. I always thought you went back home.”
The soldering iron lifts, and freezes. Ford straightens up, starting to stammer out an apology. McGucket raised a lazy hand to him, quieting him down, “Oh hush. It’s fine, I think.” He paused, but continued, “Ah know, Ah did want ta go back, see Tate and maybe give an apology to Emma-May…” he mumbles under his breath, “She deserved a much bettah man.”
F looked out the window, “At least Tate came fer meh.” he shook his head, “Even though it must have been a shame how his Old Man turned out…” Ford tried to not let his sympathy show too much, lest it be taken for pity.
Fiddleford took a breath, going back to the device, “Ah had forgotten fer a long time why Ah stayed, but…” he put the iron down, reaching to click something into place before closing the device, handing it to Stanford. He looks at Ford’s face, “Ah think I’m starting to remember.” he doesn’t smile, he doesn’t frown. Just neutral, for Ford to take however he pleased. Ford thinks giving him that choice is a mistake.
Ford was about to run out the door (or away from his guilt), but he stopped. He went back up to McGucket… Fiddleford, and gave his friend a hug.
“Thank you, my friend.”
Fiddleford patted his back, “It's fer them kids a’ yers. They helped me.”
They stayed for a moment more before they parted, Ford nodding his head in thanks as he left. Once the solid wood doors closed beside him, he checked the screen again, getting the full date, March/01/1983.
Ford remembers there were historical snowstorms around that time, all of February had been… a cold month. He starts racing home, she’ll need warm clothes, and protection. He fights with his worry as he runs, he’ll need his shock gloves. She’s in danger, and the danger is himself.