Work Text:
“I’ll make you talk, it’s only a matter of time.”
Ford screamed in horror.
At least he had the memory of screaming, but his mouth was shut while he slept.
To the extremely observant, he wasn’t sleeping soundly, but with the only clue being the absence of snoring and a small smile for proof of a happy dream, to the naked eye he was simply sleeping on the couch in his old bedroom, dressed in his red sweater and dark pants, trenchcoat thrown into a chair and boots left on the floor. Ford’s glasses were folded and sitting on the window seal. His charcoal-gray hair was everywhere, his strong arms wrapped around his pillow, and his blanket falling off his body.
A soft, small hand touched his shoulder.
Instincts kicked in, adrenaline from the nightmare alive and well, and Ford flailed an arm, smacking something on the way to putting a hand at his hip, where his gun normally laid, but it was absent.
It only took a second for the aged scientist to focus and he was mortified to blink his malfunctioning eyes and swear he saw the blurry figure of his niece.
“Oh my gosh, Grunkle Ford! Are you okay?!” She asked, concerned for him, when Ford’s attention was on her.
He quickly reached for his glasses and slipped them on. Ford sat up and pressed himself against the back of the couch, as far away from Mabel as possible, as he stared wide-eyed at the young teenager.
She was still in her father’s floppy-disc purple shirt and her hair hadn’t been greeted by a brush yet, but the sun was rising; This all gave Ford the hypothesis that she had come to him for morning cuddles - no, she had a plate of eggs and toast in one hand; she had made him breakfast in bed - and had been greeted by a monster.
His heart was still racing, and it showed no sign of slowing down. The nightmare and the shame of what he had done horrified him. His brown eyes were glued to the reddening mark on Mabel’s cheek.
Mabel’s concern for her great-uncle mounted when she saw the frightful look on his face, like he was scared of her. She bit her lip, sat the plate down on the floor, and slowly reached out for him. “Grunkle Ford, it’s okay. It’s me.”
Ford sighed tiredly and shook his head, making Mabel cease her arms’ movement and be still. “I… I know. I know. But please… don’t come near me.”
Everything clicked in her imaginative mind. She lightly touched the spot on her cheek where her Grunkle Ford had accidentally hit her, but it wasn’t even that bad; Honestly he had barely grazed her, just enough for her skin to redden in irritation. Ford wasn’t scared of her; He was scared of what he could do to her. Mabel had most definitely accidentally interrupted a nightmare.
In hindsight, Mabel knew she had to be gentle with waking Ford up; usually snuggles did the trick, but she had hoped a gentle touch on his shoulder would be enough to wake him up peacefully so he could eat the special eggs and toast she had made for him. Like always, her excitement clouded her judgment, and she felt guilty for worsening a problem (all of this was entirely untrue and only in her mind, of course). Well, now she knows how to fix things, how to make someone she cared deeply about feel better.
Mabel smiled sadly and opened her arms to him. “Not even for a hug?”
In all his years of travel, throughout all the planets and cultures he had encountered, Ford had found nothing quite as strong as the power of Mabel. The tired old man bit his lip and chuckled weakly through shut eyes. He opened his arms in return and Mabel grinned and calmly climbed into his lap, squeezing a tight hug around his torso and putting everything she had into making him feel better.
It was supposed to be over. It was over. So why didn’t it feel like it was?
Everything was too perfect.
He had his brother back, and was even fulfilling their lifelong dream of sailing around the world together.
He had a family - a beautiful one at that - containing a surrogate nephew, a pair of niblings who fondly reminded the old scientist of better versions of himself and his own twin, and many more friends who were just as good as family.
He had a home, not just four walls he had paid for and slept in, but a real home. Nothing like the dimensions he visited, nothing like that pawn shop in Glass Shard Beach, a real home where he could be himself, be at comfort, and be surrounded by laughter and love.
So why did he always feel on edge? Like the quiet wouldn’t last forever? Like the peace wouldn’t last long? Because it never did. Not for him.
But maybe things were different. Bill was gone. His brother made sure of that.
Ford continued to pace his room. He had enough of this overwhelming feeling and wanted to put an end to it, but he didn’t know how. His trenchcoat flapping by his boots, his polydactyl hands went from his opposite arms, to his pockets, to his hair, all in the span of five seconds, his body unsure of what to do, his nerves unhinged, and his mind too far gone to notice or care.
In his frustration, he growled in his throat like a cornered animal, saw a desk chair, and kicked it hard enough to make it fall over with a bang as he continued to march around the room, his breathing picking up the pace, his temper rising, and pressure building behind his stinging eyes. The dam was about to break.
Ford swore under his breath as he came to his senses, realizing he had worked himself into a panic attack, so he vexed some anger by punching the wall opposite of his couch, then collapsed against it, his knees by his chest and his hands in his hair, concentrating on his breathing and trying to get it under control.
A shaking, terrified girl watched through the crack of his bedroom.
Mabel had come down from the attic, alone in the house with Grunkle Ford, to see if he wanted to hang out - watch a movie, read a book, make some cupcakes, go on a walk, do an experiment, whatever he wanted to do - but had accidentally stumbled upon a scary scene. Seeing someone she loved panicked, in pain, so angry…
Mabel silently pulled herself away from the cracked door and hurried to the couch on the porch to give Grunkle Ford some space. Normally she would go to him and try to help, but he looked so scary - NO! Grunkle Ford wasn’t scary. He just looked mad, and Mabel didn’t want to make him more mad, so she would check on him later. Yeah, that was a better idea.
Mabel sat on the couch and her mind was plagued on how to make Grunkle Ford feel better; her brain wouldn’t let her concentrate on anything else. What if she brought him a snack? Cupcakes? Cookies? He did like her Mabel Juice.
A bird flew over the Shack, landed on the porch to pick at its wing, then flew out into the woods. Wait, what was the one thing Ford loved more than anything?
Mabel grinned and hopped off the couch and began to skip out into the woods, determined to find an odd flower or small creature to take home to Grunkle Ford to make him feel better. She was so excited about her new idea, so thrilled to go on a short adventure, so happy to make Ford happy, that she was oblivious to the dark clouds rolling in.
It took about half an hour for Ford to calm down and recover from the overwhelming stress. Feeling better and taking steady breaths, he looked at his beautiful stain-glass window and could see the raindrops hitting the glass and rolling downward; he heard the calming melody of rain, and his mind was hit with the idea of having his niece in his lap and watching a movie. Smiling, he stood and left the room.
“Mabel?” No sound. He stood at the bottom of the stairs and called calmly, “Mabel. Would you like to watch a movie?”
Expecting a thump, then running feet until the door flew open and she yelled in response that she would love to, Ford was a little surprised not to have any of that meet his question. He decided to climb up the stairs and check in the attic. Maybe she was listening to music or fell asleep snuggling Waddles.
Ford politely tapped the door with his knuckles before opening it. “Mabel? I’m sorry to bother you, I w-…” But Waddles was the sole occupant, asleep on Mabel’s bed. Ford was a bit puzzled. Okay, the kitchen then, for a snack? Or already watching TV in the living room, though Ford didn’t think he heard the sound of television while on the ground floor.
He journeyed back down the flight of stairs and checked every single room of the house, even the gift shop, but Mabel was nowhere to be found. Ford’s anxieties grew more powerful with every failed room, until he stood at the porch, rain pouring heavily on the woods, and he had to admit that Mabel wasn’t in the Mystery Shack.
“MABEL!” He called over the rain. “MABEL? Can you hear me?”
No response. He racked his brain, trying to remember if she had plans with friends today, or if there was any reason she would leave home, but he couldn’t think of a reason. Ford sprang off the porch like a panther and started running through the rain, into the forest, desperate to find his little girl.
“MABEL! ANSWER ME!”
Lightning flashed through the sky, then a soft rumble of thunder rolled through the air. His mud-decorated boots splashed through the uneven terrain. His glasses were beaded and it was hard to see. Blinded, Ford leaned against a tree and tried to wipe his glasses dry to see better, but already his trenchcoat and sweater was wet from the rain. He groaned and put his glasses back on, trying to see, praying he would see his niece, but all he saw were rows and rows of trees and brush.
“MABEL! WHERE ARE YOU?!”
She was gone. That had to be it. Something had gotten to her before Ford could. She was dead, hurt far beyond repair, gone. His little shooting star had fallen.
“I think I’m gonna kill one of them, just for the heck of it!”
“No!” Ford growled under his breath, his twelve fingers in his soaked, charcoal hair. “No! G-G-Get out of my head! It’s not true!”
His knees were trembling. He wanted to sit against the tree and collect himself (for the second time in an hour, he shamefully reminded himself), but he had already wasted so much precious time. He groaned and tried to keep running, keep searching, but his chest was tight, he was shaking, he was blinded by his rain-stained glasses, and all he could do was beg to the sky, “Mabel! Please! Come home!”
“Grunkle Ford?”
Ford turned around to see his little niece, her hair flattened by the rain, her cheeks and nose pink from the cold, a bundle of color-changing lilies in her hand. She looked perfectly fine and otherwise happy, unscuffed and unhurt, but her face was painted with worry.
“Grunkle Ford, what are you doing out here? Are you okay? Why were you screaming?” Mabel asked, stepping over tree roots to calmly walk to him.
“MABEL!” Ford darted to her and scooped her up, hugging her close and rubbing her back, ignoring the soaked sweater over her body. “Mabel, my darling!” He breathed.
“Grunkle Ford, are you okay?” Mabel asked steadily. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” He repeated and looked at her, still quite scared and panicked. “I’ve been worried SICK about you! I couldn’t find you! You were gone! You were wet and cold and lost… why on Earth did you leave, WHY?!” Ford demanded.
Mabel was filled with horror. She had done it again. She had made him feel worse. She had become distracted by her stupid idea, too excited, and stupidly made Ford’s anxiety worse. She lowered her head in shame and muttered, “M’sorry. I… I thought you’d like these. Want to experiment on them or something.” And she held up the special flowers.
Still breathing heavily, still scared, still cold and wet, started to calm down, and with shame and exhaustion flooding his body…
“A-Are you crying?” Mabel asked quietly. No, it must be the rain.
Ford wheezed his eyes shut and hugged his niece.
Mabel hugged him back, a hand in his hair, and once again she poured her entire soul into making him feel better, hoping she could somehow make this better. But she was really starting to doubt the power of Mabel.
“M’sorry.” She mumbled. “M’sorry I made you feel worse.”
“No,” Ford breathed, combing his soaked hair with his fingers. “No, never…”
“I just thought you needed some space… I… I wanna help you, but I always make it worse…”
“Mabel, pumpkin, listen to me.” Ford held her, ignoring the rain, her beautiful, youthful face seeming to glow, a beacon in the darkness. “You’ve always helped me. It’s not even your responsibility to. My problems… erm, well, they’re mine, not yours.”
“But I love you.” Mabel interrupted. “I wanna help you. I just want you to be happy.”
Ford smiled, cupping her cold cheek and wiping some raindrops away with his thumb. “ You make me happy. You, and Dipper, and Stanley, make me far happier than I thought I could be. And I know how you feel. Nothing is worse than seeing someone you love suffering. But I promise, the power of Mabel never fails to make me feel better.”
Mabel grinned. “Good. Cuz the power of Grunkle Ford always makes me happy, too.”
Ford laughed, feeling a bit of blush rising in his pale cheeks.
“Let’s go home.” Mabel said, squirming a bit, like she wanted to walk, but Ford was not quite ready to let her go, so he carried her to the shack through the rain, thunder occasionally disturbing the haunting silence.
When they arrived home, Ford put her down at the foot of the stairs, and said calmly, “Why don’t you go upstairs and change into some dry clothes, then come find me in my room. I-If you want, we can watch a movie or make a snack.”
Mabel smiled and nodded. “Okay! How about popcorn and some Mabel Juice?”
“Sounds perfect.” Ford said with a smile, and ruffled her soaked brown hair. “Now, go change before you get a cold. I’ll put these beautiful lilies in some water.”
Mabel nodded with a grin, gave him the flowers, and ran upstairs, knowing a good movie with a great uncle, and possibly a nap, awaited her.