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Fistbump 2: Unspeakable (a Pinecest story)	By : Edward_or_Ford Category: +G through L > Gravity Falls Views: 21283 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravity Falls or its characters. I will not earn any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
(Author’s note: Well, this has been a long time coming. It’s been over 5 months since I posted Chapter 9, and here, finally, is the next chapter. My apologies for the long hiatus: it could not be helped. Sorry, but thanks to everyone who has been sticking with me.

Also, the series finale really messed up the scenario for my AU. Quickly, here’s a brief list of important plot points that I got wrong, and can not be corrected at this point:
- I had guessed that there was a week between their birthday and the end of summer.
- I did not expect Ford to survive the finale.
- I had assumed Stan would continue to live in and operate the Shack, while Soos would keep living in town with his grandmother.
I can’t fix these things, and now we just have to deal with it. Oh well. Onwards, Aoshima!)

“Thanks again for letting us come up on such short notice, Uncle Stan.”

Stanley Pines stretched out his back, then greeted his oldest nephew at the front door of Mystery Shack, as the younger man clomped snow off his feet and walked up the step. “No problem, and Merry Christmas, kid! Nice to see you finally make it up here after all these years!”

The twins’ father was exhausted after the long drive, but still smiled as he exhaled in mock exasperation. “I’m a grown man, with a family of my own! Do you think you might finally be able to call me something other than ‘kid’?” he exclaimed with a short laugh. “Like, oh I don’t know, maybe my name?”

“Not a chance, kid!” Stan retorted back with a grin, grabbing hold of a hand and pulling his nephew into a brief embrace. Then he paused awkwardly, looking past to where the family’s car was parked in the snowy driveway, to where the twins and their mother were gathering bags to be brought inside from the cold. “Uhh … before the others get in earshot, I was hoping to get a chance to explain what happened, you know, with me and your Uncle Stanford last summer …”

His nephew waved off any concern. “Please don’t worry about it, Uncle Stan,” he quietly assured him. “It took Dip and Mabel a while to explain it to us last fall, but I think we understand. We don’t need to dredge up bad memories over Christmas. Especially ….” He paused, then continued softly. “Especially not with the way things are now.”

Stan’s voice also lowered, concern obvious in his face. “How’re they doing? Any different since you two called me a few days ago with this plan of yours to come up here?” His only reply was a brief, sad shake of the head, as the rest of family was coming up the steps to the front porch.

Mabel was first to her Grunkle, dropping her bags and hugging her arms around his waist while pressing her cheek against his chest. Stan returned the embrace, but noticed instantly that Mabel’s squeeze around him was a fraction of her normal death-grip, and that her expression and voice had none of her normal exuberance. She looked tired and defeated, so completely unlike the great-niece he had come to know so well.

As Dipper waited with his arms full, Stan gave him a quick glance. He’d seen his great nephew in some pretty bad ways before, but never before had the boy’s eyes been so red and glazed, nor had his overall hygiene appeared so neglected. Stan gripped Dipper’s shoulder and shook it gently, drawing a tired half-smile from the teen.

The kids put on brave faces, but they didn’t fool their Grunkle in the slightest. Dipper and Mabel were suffering, and he knew precisely why. They had not put anything that happened over the last week of summer behind them. He didn’t need to know any details of what had happened between the twins since he’d last seen them on Labor Day weekend. They still had feelings for each other, and were completely unable to deal with their emotions in any kind of healthy way. And he would never be able to tell their parents how to help them, not without revealing their secret. Stan knew his nephew (and his wife) would never condone or tolerate the truth about the twins. If he was going to help these kids, he’d have to try to find another way.

The Pines family had arrived in Gravity Falls on Saturday evening, having driven straight through after getting up early the morning after the twins’ final exams. The plan was that they would be staying for two weeks, returning home the weekend after New Year’s. They barely had any time to pack before leaving, so the contents of the bags were haphazardly tossed together. Dipper’s suitcase, in particular, seemed to simply contain whatever he found on his bedroom floor immediately before heading out the door.

Dipper was alone in the chilly attic, sorting through his belongings with his suitcase on his bed, when Stan came up the stairs. Dipper subtly threw one of his thick flannel button-up shirts over a large black book that was near his pillow as his great uncle rapped his knuckle on the door frame.

“Hey kid! Your mom’s got Mabel helping her with cleanup after dinner, and your dad’s down unpacking their stuff in Ford’s old room. How you doing up here?”

Dipper looked around the attic soberly. “Everything’s pretty much like we left it. Thanks, Grunkle Stan.” Dipper went back to sorting through his clothes and books, leaving the room in uncomfortable silence.

“So … I guess maybe I should go over those boxing tips again with you, huh, kid? Maybe you need another lesson, am I right?” Stan poked at Dipper with a mischievous grin. Dipper pointedly turned away, his reaction making it plain that he didn’t appreciate the attempted humor at his expense.

Stan squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Ahh … sorry Dipper. I’ve taken a beating before, but nothing like I heard you got. You hangin’ in there? How’s the old noggin doing?”

Dipper shrugged. “It’s better than it was, I guess.” He shivered. “It’s kinda cold up here. Isn’t there any heat in the attic?”

“Not a lot, sorry. Only what comes up the stairs. You’ll have to leave the door open, or you’ll freeze up here. But … for right now …” Stan paused again, and gently closed the door. “Kid, can I … uh, do you mind if your old grunkle offers .. you know, a suggestion?”

The teenager flushed, and let his head drop in mild exasperation. “Grunkle Stan, I forced a stop to everything physical between Mabel and I. We aren’t going to “try” anything while we’re up here, certainly not with the door open, if that’s what you’re talking about,” he muttered sourly, staring into his suitcase.

Stan rubbed his forehead, sympathizing with his great nephew for the weight of all the emotional baggage he had been carrying inside him, and Dipper hadn’t even guessed at the actual uncomfortable subject he had intended to raise.

“Thanks, but that’s not it …” Stan leveled his gaze at Dipper, speaking quietly but firmly. “I was hoping that you’d want to hand over whatever it is that you’re taking, before I have to tell your parents … that you’re a drug addict.”

Dipper’s head snapped up, his face a mix of fear and bravado. “How di- … I … I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Yeah, you do,” Stan replied calmly, but with authority. “Trust me, I know exactly what someone with an addiction looks like.” Stan glanced down to Dipper’s arms. “I don’t see any needle marks, and besides I don’t think you’re quite stupid enough for heroin, so I doubt that’s it. I’m guessing pills. What is it? Fentanyl? Vicodin? Oxycontin?” A subtle widening of Dipper’s eyes and tensing of his shoulder muscles told the elder Pines he had been correct with the last guess. “There it is. So how many are you taking?”

Dipper realized there was no point in lying any longer: The old con man obviously was able to see through him far easier than his parents could. He sat heavily on his bed and silently stared at nothing for several moments. “Seven or eight a day,” he finally confessed quietly, then he shifted his weight, looking guilty. “Sometimes nine or ten,” he mumbled.

Stan tried to mask his concern. Dipper couldn’t have been much more than a hundred pounds. For someone so small, such a high dose of painkillers would be a difficult addiction to kick. He decided that action was required immediately.

“OK, this needs to end, and I know how to help you, kid. I’m giving you two choices. You agree right now to trust me, and you do exactly what I say, and we can fix this without anyone else knowing. Or, I go right downstairs and tell your folks tonight. Take your pick.”

Fear and panic broke out on Dipper’s face. “Grunkle Stan, please don’t … what are you … why would you do this? Why would you help me to keep this from Mom and Dad?”

The old man knelt down in front of Dipper. “Cause I made some big mistakes when I was a kid, too, and I wish someone had helped me out before my old man found out. I’m not saying your dad would kick you out, like your great-grandfather did to me. But even though I don’t see my nephew often, I do know him well enough to know … well, I know he’d overreact. Probably send you off to a rehab school, away from home.”

“No!” Dipper gasped, aghast at the suggestion. “Mabel needs me! I … I can’t be taken away from her, you have to help me … I’ll do anything you want me to! Please, just … just don’t tell Mom and Dad!”

Stan gave a stern stare to his great nephew. “I know you don’t want to be separated from her, but thatwasn’t hormones talking!” He gripped Dipper firmly by the shoulders. “I see your problem, but what the hell is going on with Mabel?” he demanded.

Dipper gulped, frantically trying to think of what lie he could come up with, something to suitably explain Mabel’s behavior. Finally though, he realized he had to be totally honest with somebody. Stan had kept the secret of what had happened at the end of the summer. It was Stan or nobody.

Putting his trust completely in his great uncle, Dipper opened up for the first time about everything that had happened since the end of summer. His awful mistake in his bedroom their first evening alone in the house. The close calls, almost getting caught multiple times. Mabel’s fury and lashing out after Dipper’s insistence that they stop things. Dipper’s cruel comments at the hospital. Mabel’s depression and the ineffective medications she’d been prescribed. How Dipper had gotten addicted to painkillers. Their reluctant isolation from each other for months. He finished by telling him of Mabel’s attempt to get his pills just two evenings before, and her threat to expose his addiction if he told their parents. Stan had sat down beside Dipper on his bed as he listened to the account in stunned silence. His great nephew and niece were still just kids, only fourteen years old! The summer adventures they’d experienced over a year ago had been bad enough, but this was entirely something else! He was having difficulty imagining the stress they had been under.

“I don’t know, kid,” Stan sighed. “Maybe you shouldn’t be trying to do this on your own. Maybe youshould come clean to your folks about the pills, and tell them about how bad Mabel’s depression is at the same time. You both might be able to use the help, after all.”

“And if I do that, you know the whole truth about Mabel and I will come out, too!” Dipper replied pleadingly. “What’s a counsellor or shrink gonna do when they figure out that this messed up brother and sister are also … in love with each other? When they know what we’ve done together! I could deny it, but you know Mabel is terrible at lying! What then? You really think they’re not going to tell Mom and Dad? And we already know what they will do!”

Stan’s back had stiffened. Son of a bitch, I’m such an idiot, he thought to himself. Now he realized how stupid the suggestion he’d just made to Dipper really was. If any social worker or doctor found out about Dipper and Mabel having had sex together, being separated by their parents would be the least of their concerns. In all likelihood, officials from Child Protection Services would immediately pull the twins out of their home. Their parents would be investigated for neglect, or worse. Mabel would be placed in protective custody, and Dipper could even be criminally charged with sexual assault!

Stan couldn’t say any of this to Dipper: it would only heap more pressure onto the young teenager. Dipper continued appealing to his great uncle. “Please, Grunkle Stan! I’ll stop the pills! Right now! Just … please don’t tell Mom and Dad!”

“Alright alright, we’ll try things out ourselves, first,” Stan relented, to Dipper’s relief.

For the next several minutes, Stan explained how they would break Dipper’s Oxycontin habit. Cold turkey wasn’t going to work: the withdrawal symptoms would be too difficult to manage and would be too obvious to his parents. Stan needed to get ahold of Methadone, and would make a call to Santiago the next morning to purchase a supply as quickly as possible before his next pug run to the border.

Stan ordered Dipper to hand over his supply of pills. Dipper paused, reluctant for a moment, then slowly found and withdrew a paper bag from his suitcase. Stan found the bottle inside, opened it and pulled out three pills, then passed them over to Dipper while putting the bottle back in the bag and tucking it into his pocket. “Take just one of these tonight,” said Stan. “Then take another in the morning, and keep the third as a spare, only for if you really get desperate and need it. I’ll try to be back before your folks get home from whatever church they said they want to go to tomorrow morning. Then, say adios to that nice little buzz you’re used to. Methadone helps ease the cravings, but it won’t give you the high. And it doesn’t relieve pain. I’ll pick up some Tylenol while I’m out, but I’m hoping that you’re actually over your headaches by now. Well … guess we’ll find out tomorrow!” he added with a sigh.

Stan heard his name being called from downstairs. Rising to his feet and crossing the floor, he opened the door and yelled, “Be right down!” then looked briefly back to the anxious young teenager. “You can do this, kid! You’re strong. The next few days will be the hardest, but I’ll help you get through it. The worst will be over in a few days, so you should be mostly fine for Christmas on Wednesday. But don’t kid yourself, you’ve got a long while ahead of you when your body is still going to be screaming at you, making you want those pills. Trust me … I know … You’d better be ready.” With a quick nod and a small, supportive smile, Stan went down the stairs, leaving the door open behind him.

Alone in the attic again, Dipper sat motionless in contemplation. He hadn’t been expecting to be forced to face up to his addiction. He hadn’t even been willing to admit to himself that he had a problem. Am I really doing anything wrong? I’m not hurting anybody, he rationalized to himself. Sure, I knew I’d be in trouble with Mom and Dad if they found out about the pills. Just add it to the list of things they don’t know about me!

But … what if Grunkle Stan is right, and I don’t need them anymore? I suppose I really should try … Oh fuck! he remembered with a start. I’d damn well better try! Because if I fail at this, Stan said he’s gonna tell Mom and Dad anyways. Then … if they send me to some rehab place … what will happen to Mabel?!

Losing Mabel was not an option. Their lives may be miserable now, but he couldn’t face the possibility of not having her near him.

She needs me! I need to be there for her! I’ve been awful these last couple of months, letting myself float in the clouds made by the pills. I should have been more supportive of her! His thoughts paused, as he realized something else. And .. and I need her! I need her to be herself again! She’s my other half … my better half! I just … love her so fucking much!

Dipper rubbed away the tears forming in his eyes as he lifted the flannel shirt from the bed and picked up the thick book that had been concealed beneath it. It was a book that he did not bring with him from California, but had left hidden at the Shack after the last two summers. No one else knew about the book: not his parents, not Grunkle Stan, not even Mabel.

He gazed solemnly at the heavy tome, and at the cross that was starkly prominent on the cover. Above the cross were the words “Holy Bible”.

I thought I was finished with this, he mused to himself as he opened the cover and began leafing through to familiar pages. I thought I didn’t want this anymore. But … this is all too much! … I can’t handle all of this without help! Stan might be able to help me get off the pills, but what about helping Mabel? Stan can’t help her! I can, but … I can’t do it alone. I have to … I have to … believe! I have to know… that the help I need is right here in this book, and all I have to do … is ask!

Dipper closed the cover, shut his eyes, and whispered for the strength to do what he needed to do. He had been obsessed with getting his Oxy fix every day, and had neglected Mabel for too long. He would kick the addiction for Mabel. He would do anything for his sister!

Then he heard Mabel coming up the stairs to the attic. Swiftly, he knelt down to the floor and pushed the thick volume underneath his bed.

Mabel had not particularly wanted to go to the attic. It wasn’t just that she didn’t want to shiver in the cold temperatures upstairs. She also didn’t want to be surrounded by an environment that forced her to think of happier times. And she didn’t want to have a conversation with Dipper.

But she asked to be excused and go upstairs because more than anything, she just wanted to sleep.

I’m tired, she said to herself as she climbed the stairs. I’m so tired … tired of everything. School. Chores. Church. Mama and Daddy. Even … Dipper. Maybe even especially Dipper!

Mabel was mentally and physically exhausted, despite having dozed for much of the car ride that day on the way up to Oregon. She thought back, for the thousandth time, to the tense moments in Dipper’s room two evenings previous. How the week had been so long and arduous, what with studying for and writing exams she didn’t care about, and Christmas cheer blaring from every radio station and storefront. She’d had enough. She just wanted it all to end, so that she would be free of all the pain, heartache, and pressure.

I almost fooled Dipper into giving me those pills, she remembered. I don’t know if I really would have gone through with taking them all, or not. But now, I can’t … even if I want to! He’s going to have them hidden somewhere I can’t get.

I just want to feel numb.

I want to feel … nothing!

As she reached the top of the stairs, she glanced in the old attic bedroom that had come to mean so much to the twins over the last two summers. There he was, straightening up from a crouching position beside his bed. He stopped and glanced up towards her, and just in time Mabel averted her eyes. Jeez, Dipper! Why do you have to go and give a crap about me now, all of a sudden! Just let me go! Forget about me … Then I’ll know you won’t miss me … when I’m … gone.

Mabel avoided looking at her brother as she entered the room. He had put her suitcase up onto her bed, where it was easy for her to reach and unpack. Oh Dipper, why’d you have to go and do that for me? she thought guiltily.

Opening the suitcase, she found her nightgown in short order. From her peripheral vision, she could see Dipper looking through his own bags as she fished out her toothbrush and toothpaste, then she quickly headed back down the stairs to the bathroom to change and get ready for bed. She needed to get out of there before she could accidentally make eye contact with her twin.

On her return from the bathroom, dressed for bed, Dipper was still arranging clothes and books from his bags, but her suitcase had been zipped closed and placed nearby on the floor, and the covers of her bed were pulled back, ready for her to get in.

Mabel closed her eyes, willing the wetness in her eyes to go away. Don’t feel it, Mabel, she repeated over and over in her mind. You’ll get to sleep quickly if you just get into bed and close your eyes. Just don’t feel!

Wordlessly, Mabel climbed into her bed, pulling up the covers under her chin against the cold air and turning to face the wall. Behind her, Dipper turned down the lamp.

She squirmed in chilly discomfort as she gripped the thin blankets tightly, wishing for her body heat to warm up the bed more quickly. As Dipper finished arranging his books on the other side of the room, Mabel sighed in resignation at the promise of a night that would be spent in the cold.

There was a rustling sound behind her back, followed by footsteps coming towards her bed. Without a word, Dipper spread his own blanket on top of Mabel’s. She heard a soft sniffle as the blanket was tucked gently around her neck.

Don’t feel anything … Don’t … feel … anything …

Behind her came careful noises of bedtime clothes and towels being gathered, followed by sounds of gentle squeaking of the floorboards that moved away towards the door. Then there was a moment of near silence: Mabel could hear ragged breathing.

“I … I love you Mabel,” came Dipper’s quiet, unsteady voice, followed by swift creaks of footsteps quickly padding down the wooden staircase.

Mabel’s pillow absorbed the wetness of her tears and the sounds of her anguished sobs for several minutes, before she finally drifted off to sleep.

The following morning, the twins’ parents were planning to attend Sunday morning service. They would be gone for some time, as they would be driving to Bend, Oregon, where the couple wanted to attend service at a large gospel church located there. Bend was the only moderately-sized town in the region, about an hour’s drive from Gravity Falls.

Dipper surprised his parents by asking to go with them. The twins had only sporadically attended church with them since the second Sunday of September, and they were happy to see that at least Dipper had shown a renewed interest in sharing faith with them.

Mabel, on the other hand, was not interested. Dipper made a weak attempt to convince her to come with them, but she meekly declined, preferring to stay in her nightgown while the family ate breakfast. Stan told Mabel she could stay and hang out with her old Grunkle in the Shack, and she glumly nodded in agreement. She avoided eye contact with Dipper as the rest of the family got ready to set out. Shortly afterward, the family car’s tires were crunching through a light dusting of newly-fallen snow, as Dipper and his parents left for the city.

The car was barely beyond the first corner in the driveway when Stan looked at Mabel. “All right, kid! Get dressed, we’re going into town.”

Mabel looked to Stan in confusion. “You just said we’re hanging around here.”

“I lied. You should be used to that by now,” her great uncle replied swiftly. “Get going, we have to make sure we’re back here long before your family returns.”

Winter had come early to central Oregon that year. It was already dark the evening before when the Pines family had arrived in Gravity Falls, so now in the daylight, Mabel was seeing the beauty of the snow-covered region for the first time. Living in the San Francisco Bay area all her life, she rarely had to deal with snow at all.

Mabel stood beside the Stanmobile and looked around as her great uncle swept snow off the windows and the vast hood of the rusty old clunker. Having spent two summers there, she knew the area around the Mystery Shack like the back of her hand, but seeing the rustic A-frame tourist trap and the tall stands of evergreen trees, all blanketed in a layer of fluffy whiteness, was a breathtaking new experience. Closed for business until the start of the next year’s tourist season, the Shack looked like a pristine artifact, as if it belonged in a full-sized snow globe. Deep inside her, the voice of a playful, exuberant goofball struggled to be heard, urging Mabel to dive headfirst into a snowbank just for the sheer joy of being silly.

But that voice, as usual for her these days, was immediately drowned out. The experience of depression had trained her to discourage herself from seeking out happy feelings, because they were always followed by unhappiness that felt even worse than before. She couldn’t know that the Prozac that she was prescribed was not properly stimulating the production of serotonin and dopamine in her brain, as it was designed to do. As a result, the other chemical regulating effects were just reinforcing her negative emotions, effectively making her depression worse.

As Stan drove them to town, Mabel’s eyes lost focus, no longer seeing the beautiful winter scenery passing by. Her mind wandered to Dipper, and his sudden change as of the previous night. She could tell he was trying to be the caring, concerned, loving brother she always knew he was …

Oh, poopcicles! she thought. Not again! Not now! I can’t think about Dipper, about how wonderful he can be, about … no! She willed herself to change the subject in her mind. To something else, anything else! She swiped at her eyes quickly to dry them, and attempted to re-focus on the passing trees. I can’t cry again! Not now, not in front of Grunkle Stan! Don’t feel anything, don’t feel any-

“Want to tell me what’s on your mind, Pumpkin?” Stan asked carefully, interrupting Mabel’s thoughts.

Mabel didn’t respond. Fighting down any reflex, she continued to stare out the passenger-side window, her eyes resolutely following the up and down of the cables connecting the utility poles at the side of the road as they passed by.

Stan tried to get through to her more directly. “Mabel, uh … Dipper and I talked last night,” he said, in as gentle a voice as Mabel had ever heard. She couldn’t help but turn and give a meek questioning look at her Grunkle. “Yeah … I know what’s been going on. The two of you and your …” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “… problems … his addiction, your depression, and … about Thursday evening, too. He told me everything.” Mabel dropped her eyes to her lap and gripped her elbows across her stomach.

“Look, I’m sorry you’re both going through all this,” he pushed on, “but for your sake, I don’t think stuffing it all inside helps. Know what I mean?”

“Yes … it does,” Mabel replied tightly. Stan waited patiently for her to continue. “I’ve tried letting it all out … lots of times. When I do, it doesn’t feel better. It just feels worse! I’m … I’m better off this way,” she said while subtly rocking herself in the passenger seat.

Stan glanced worriedly at his great niece as he pulled the car over on the main street of Gravity Falls. Mabel looked up and saw they were on the more run-down end of downtown, parked across from the Skull Fracture. Stan told Mabel to sit tight, then he got out and crossed the deserted Sunday-morning street, and entered a side door at the rear of the notorious biker bar.

Santiago was able to supply Stan with a sufficient supply of Methadone to carry Dipper through the holidays, hopefully long enough to allow the teen to completely quit on his own. Stan ground his teeth in irritation because of how much he was forced to shell out for the medication: the low-level gangster had seen how urgently Stan needed the pills on such short notice, and took full advantage of the situation. Not that I wouldn’t have done the same thing, he grumbled inwardly as he and Mabel returned to the Shack well ahead of the rest of the family.

At least this should be able to do some good for the kid, though, he sighed to himself. Mabel, on the other hand … Stan cast a concerned glance at the girl as she dropped limply onto the sofa, looking broken and defeated. His joints creaked as he sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her comfortingly to himself. They sat in silence for a long moment.

“You want me to turn on the TV?” Stan asked, gesturing to the blank screen in front of them. Mabel’s head slowly shook back and forth.

Finally, Stan spoke up again. “Mabel … ah, I know this is hard, but have you thought about … well, about moving on?”

He felt Mabel’s shoulder muscles tense. Mabel’s head remained facing forwards towards the dormant television set. “What do you mean?” she replied weakly.

“You know what I mean,” Stan said, trying to be as gentle as possible. “Dipper hinted that you’re not … you know, you’re not together together … anymore.” Stan scratched the back of his neck in frustration. “Ugh! I’m just saying, maybe you’ve gotta look at seeing what comes next. Start letting yourself look for … for who comes next.” Mabel’s head whipped around, and she leaned away from Stan as she looked up to his face in shock. Stan could see that she obviously had never considered this, and it was an unwelcome suggestion.

It crushed him, but Stan pressed on. “Come on, think about this, Sweetie! This … this thing with Dipper … you’ve got to know that it can’t work! It isn’t working now! And it’s never going to get easier. You’ve got to start thinking about moving forward! Start thinking about the possibility that you can move forward … with someone else, someday.”

Mabel’s face communicated the turmoil of emotions that were raging within her. Stan could tell that there was so much she wanted to say, but couldn’t find the words. Words of anger, frustration, sorrow, fear, longing, and desperation all failed to form on her lips.

Finally, with eyes brimming, one sentence managed to escape.

“… But … Grunkle Stan … I … I love him …”

And Stan knew the discussion was over. A future without her brother was inconceivable, a relationship with anyone else was utterly pointless to think about. Mabel’s simple declaration of her feelings for Dipper was made with such certainty and conviction, mixed with hopeless despair, that Stan knew she simply could not feel any other way.

He pulled Mabel in for a tight hug. He briefly felt her squeeze him back, and his own tears threatened to surface. Stan was frustrated with seeing his favorite great niece this way. He had no easy answers for what pained her heart, but what he knew of anti-depressants, it didn’t seem logical that they had provided no improvement to her emotional state. He silently wondered if her parents had looked into asking for a change to her medication.

For the time being, though, all he could do was provide assurance that he would be there for her as best he could.

The door to the backseat opened as soon as the car came to a stop outside the Mystery Shack. Dipper’s parents were still commenting on the energetic worship service they had just attended. Stepping out quickly, Dipper power-walked into the Shack, silently desperate to see Stan before his parents could join him inside.

He pushed the door open forcefully and immediately focused on the old man, who was already moving towards him. “Grunkle Stan!” he said urgently, his eyes wide, a sweaty hand rubbing his stomach. “Did you get the …” His words trailed off as he looked around.

Stan immediately pulled Dipper back to his office. Once inside, he handed the agitated teen a Methadone capsule and glass of water he had ready, and Dipper quickly downed the pill. “How you holdin’ up, kid?” asked Stan, placing his hand on Dipper’s shoulder.

Dipper unconsciously wiped his nose across the sleeve of his shirt. “I feel like I wanna puke,” he confessed.

Stan grunted in confirmation. “Sounds about right. That pill should kick in quickly, and you’ll start feeling a bit better in about fifteen minutes. What about pain? Did your headaches come back?”

“A little bit. It’s not all that bad,” Dipper said, accepting the Tylenol that Stan offered. He yawned then finished the glass of water in one long drink.

Stan nodded as he heard the twins’ parents come in through the door. “Maybe you’d better make yourself scarce for the time being,” he said under his breath.

“Yeah,” Dipper whispered back, forcing himself to smile. “Thanks, Grunkle Stan.” He loudly announced to his mother and father that he felt a bit car sick and wanted to lay down, then swiftly climbed the stairs to the attic.

As he entered the chilly bedroom, he immediately noticed that he wasn’t alone. Mabel was already there, sitting on her bed, bundled up in two layers of sweaters and thick fuzzy pants. Her knees were under her chin, her arms securely wrapped around her shins.

“Uh … hi,” Dipper muttered, anxiously sliding his palm over his perspiring forehead and making his way towards the bed on his side of the room.

Mabel glanced over to watch as Dipper gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed, paused, then swung his legs up and groaned as he laid down on his back. Mere seconds later, he was slowly sitting back up again, scratching his scalp with one hand and holding his abdomen with his other arm.

“You okay?” Mabel asked softly.

Dipper forced his hands to stop moving. Without realizing it, one leg immediately started bouncing. “Yeah I’m fine!” he replied, not looking at Mabel. “I just … the car ride back from church … I just started feeling a little sick, and -”

“It’s all right, Dipper. I know,” Mabel interrupted, a sombre list to her voice. “Grunkle Stan told me about how he’s helping you get off your pills.” Her brother’s eyes widened and he took a sharp breath. “Don’t worry.” She turned away and curled up on her side as she continued, “I’m not going to tell on you to Mama and Daddy.”

Dipper started breathing again, the cold temperature, adrenaline, and withdrawal agitation now combining to cause his body to visibly tremble. He forced himself to take deep, slow breaths, trying to calm himself down. Within a few minutes, he was in control of himself.

Control. There’s that word again, he thought to himself, remembering back to September when he had willingly given himself over, and let happen what he thought God wanted to happen. Am I in control, or not? Have I calmed myself down, or is it just the Methadone kicking in? Do I believe, or not?

Across the room, Mabel hadn’t moved. The rest of family was downstairs, preparing for a late lunch. He stared at Mabel’s back. Seeing her in pain was just as painful for him. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to do something!

Dipper’s faith in the words of the book hidden beneath his bed wavered once again. He swallowed, steeling himself. I don’t have time to wait for whatever help He might provide! Right now, I need to do something, say something. Anything!

“Mabel?” he said tentatively, waiting for a response. He received none.

He pushed on. “Mabel, can we … can we please talk about … what happened the other night back home?”

Mabel’s back remained towards her brother. “What’s there to talk about?” she replied softly.

Dipper sighed heavily. “I don’t know,” Dipper moaned, gripping a handful of hair from the back of his head. “You … you really scared me.”

Across the room, there was no response from Mabel. Dipper lowered his gaze to the rough plank floor between their beds. “I never thought you could ever think about stuff like that,” he said. “Like, you … hurting yourself …” His voice trailed off, unable to coherently express his feelings into words. “I just want to help you,” he mumbled, his voice cracking, “I … I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Dipper lifted his head, hoping for some sign that any of his words were helping. His sister remained motionless.

I don’t know anything else to say, except … “Mabel … I lo-”

“Don’t!” Mabel shot back, her tone filled with anguish. “Just stop! Just …” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she rolled onto her back. Her watering eyes were directed up to the attic’s rafters. “… Please … I can’t … please just stop.”

Dipper felt his chest constrict in pain. He watched, helpless and immobile, as Mabel balled her hands to her eyes, biting her lower lip as now she took her turn to struggle with regaining self control. After a moment to compose herself, she breathed, “I’m sorry, Dipper … I just can’t do this now.”

A moment later she resolutely stood, jaw clenched. Without another word or look at her brother, Mabel made her way out the door and down the stairs.

Alone in the attic, Dipper struggled to keep himself from slipping into despair. He rolled over and reached under his bed, grabbing the thick black book. Pushing aside the nausea, he immediately opened it to where he had bookmarked it before he put it away the previous night, and started reading again.

Immediately after Dipper had dashed up the stairs, Stan joined the twins’ parents in the kitchen. They asked what he and Mabel did all morning, and he smoothly spun a story of the two of them killing time by taking a short drive, just to see the town covered in snow. It was partly true, and there was no reason for Stan to not be believed.

Stan did suggest that he thought that Mabel seemed to be abnormally down in the dumps, especially for being on antidepressants. The parents agreed, lamenting that they missed the Mabel they used to know, and how they thought they were doing what was best for her with the medications. Stan asked them if they had taken Mabel back to her doctor, to check to see if she was responding as should be expected. Her parents guiltily admitted that they had not: they were trying to get back on track with their respective careers after Dipper’s hospitalization, and both had put their work ahead of their children since Dipper had come home. They agreed they needed to address the matter as soon as they returned to California after the holidays were over.

The conversation turned to the cause of Mabel’s troubles. Her father noted again that everything seemed to turn for the worse shortly after the twins started high school. He had never managed to figure out what had happened when Mabel’s anger exploded towards Dipper before his hospitalization, nor why she had been so down all the time since before he came home. Her mother wondered if they should perhaps finally stop walking on eggshells around her and get to the bottom of this. Not immediately, of course. But she proposed that the long car ride home would be an excellent uninterrupted time to prod Mabel until she confessed what was wrong. Her husband thought that was a good idea, and that Dipper had much to account for as well.

Stan knew that cornering the kids and forcing them to talk about everything that caused their problems would be a disaster. Before he could think of any way to change their minds, a sullen Mabel emerged from the attic, and her parents whisked her to the table to get some food. Chucking a thumb towards the ceiling, Stan said he’d go up to see if Dipper felt like eating anything for lunch. As he backed out of the kitchen, he knew he had less than two weeks to intervene somehow before the family started their return trip.

Climbing halfway up the stairs and poking his head up to the landing, Stan looked in the bedroom and could see Dipper on his bed laying on his side, a thick book open in front of him.

“Hey, kid!” he called, causing Dipper’s head to snap towards him. “Want to get something to eat?”

“Uh … not right now,” Dipper replied evasively. “Just give me a few minutes more, and I’ll be okay.” He lowered his voice imperceptibly. “I think it’s kicking in.”

Stan nodded. “Good to hear,” he said, then in a louder voice, “As soon as you’re up to it, drag your sorry carcass down here. Got it, kid?” He gave Dipper a wiley smile.

A grin spread on Dipper’s face. “I got it, Grunkle Stan,” he replied loudly.

As his great uncle went back downstairs, Dipper’s smile disappeared, and he resumed his reading.

The next couple of days went by somewhat unpleasantly, as far as the twins’ mother and father were concerned. This was despite their best efforts to cheer up their children by giving them time with some summertime friends.

On Monday, Wendy stopped by to visit, showing off the fact she had finally got her driver’s licence. The twins’ parents had heard from Mabel long ago about Dipper’s infatuation with the tall redhead, and looked forward to seeing him being all awkward around her. Ultimately they were disappointed to see that their son was completely unphased by Wendy’s appearance.

Wendy, of course, was cool with any situation, and decided to tell a couple of stories to the twins’ parents of how great their children were, and how much fun they’d had together over the last two summers. She recounted with enthusiasm how Dipper had discovered a secret bunker beneath a tree out in the woods, and how the three of them and Soos had explored it. She was just starting to describe the harrowing security room that almost crushed them all, but noticed the twins’ folks were wide-eyed, and Dipper giving her very small and rapid shakes of his head. Quickly reading the situation, Wendy deftly side-stepped any more dangerous or supernatural details, realizing the twins hadn’t told their parents everything that had happened over that crazy first summer.

She was also not oblivious to the changes she saw in the kids. The last time Wendy had seen the twins was the day before they left for California on the last weekend of summer. They had seemed incredibly alive and happy, almost giddy, that whole final week following their “birthday bash” weekend in Portland. Now her little buds looked like they had the weight of the world on their shoulders. Dipper looked distracted or agitated, as if he were concentrating on some other subject in his mind. And Mabel was slouched and unenergetic, the opposite of what Wendy had ever experienced from her. Wendy’s visit ended awkwardly, amid clumsy Christmas well wishes and fumbled goodbyes.

The following day was Christmas Eve, and the family left Stan at the Shack to travel into town for last-minute shopping, as well as a visit to Soos. The twins’ parents wanted to thank him and his grandmother for taking the twins in when Stan had briefly lost ownership of his home. The lovable handyman was delighted to see his favorite dudes again, and happily introduced himself to Dipper and Mabel’s parents, giving them each a big hug. After also meeting his Abeulita and his girlfriend Melody, who was on vacation from the city, the visit went much like Wendy’s the day before, with the twins being polite but decidedly not themselves. Finally their father determined it was time to head back when Mabel’s lack of enthusiasm and Dipper’s increased fidgeting was becoming a distraction.

“You know, kids, this is starting to wear a bit thin,” said their father from the driver’s seat, sternly addressing the twins through the rear-view mirror as they drove the short route back towards the Shack. “I’m getting pretty tired of this anti-social act you two have going on. It’s not like either of you at all.”

They half looked up as their mother shot a warning look to her husband. “Darling ….” she said quietly. “Not now. Tomorrow is Christmas Day, for goodness sake! It can wait.”

Their father glanced back at his wife, his face set. Then he fired another look at the twins in the mirror and muttered “Alright, fine,” and returned his attention to the road.

In the backseat, the two teenagers realized that they had temporarily dodged a major bullet. They hadn’t been themselves in months, but now they were finally going to be called out for their behavior. Their father still wanted to get to the bottom of whatever issues were bothering them, and their mother was apparently in agreement. Soon, very soon, they would have to explain themselves. Dipper felt bile rise in his throat, and his leg began bouncing faster as he shakily looked over to Mabel, who had slouched even lower in her seat and turned her head toward her window. Mabel struggled to muster the fortitude to deal with the situation, while Dipper was loathe to face Mabel’s rejection again while still battling withdrawal symptoms. But both knew they had to do something, and had to try getting over being paralyzed by their fears.

There were no complaints on Christmas Day. The Pines family spent the day together, enjoying a quiet, peaceful day of unwrapping gifts, eating good food, playing family games, and taking a stroll together in freshly fallen snow. In the evening, the twins’ father retrieved his guitar and led the family in Christmas music. Even Stan joined in on some classic carols as everyone sat and sang around the warm fireplace.

Dipper and Mabel went to bed that evening with a feeling of subdued contentment. For all the turmoil in their lives, the day had been as perfect as could be expected. Dipper took his evening dose of Methadone, continuing his effort to break his addiction. As they bundled themselves under their covers in their beds and Dipper prepared to turn off the lamp, Mabel’s eyes locked with Dipper. For several seconds they stared at one another, Mabel biting her lip, and Dipper blinking uncertainly. Finally, Mabel gave her brother a quick nod, and the edges of Dipper’s mouth turned up slightly. Her eyes closed as Dipper flipped the light switch.

It was a start. Dipper and Mabel knew they were still a team, and they’d get through this. They’d find time in the next couple of days up in their bedroom to quietly work out how to handle their parents. And maybe more than that afterward. They fell asleep feeling positive about something for the first time in a long while.

“Pumpkin! Come on, wakey wakey!”

“Up and at ‘em, Dip! Come on, let’s go!”

Mabel and Dipper both groaned sleepily, opening bleary eyes to see their parents leaning over them, gently shaking them awake. Dipper’s clock showed that it was just after six in the morning. “What’s going on?” he mumbled as his father stepped back.

“Yeah!” whined Mabel groggily.

Their mother straightened up from where she had been hovering over Mabel, and joined her husband standing between the beds. “We didn’t want to spoil such a wonderful day yesterday by telling you that …” She cast an annoyed look at her husband, “… that we have to go back home.”

Dipper was instantly wide awake. “What?”

“We leave this morning,” she said sympathetically as she looked from one twin to the other. “We need to pack up and get on the road as soon as we can so we can get home tonight.”

Mabel practically shrivelled. “Now?” she asked weakly.

It was their father’s turn to speak. “I’m sorry, but I got a text from my boss on Monday. Our biggest client needs the new version of our product to ship before the end of the calendar year. It’s all hands on deck, all vacation time after Christmas was cancelled. They wanted me there today! As it is, I’m required to be at my desk tomorrow morning, and I probably won’t get back to the house until it’s done.” He held out his hands. “I’ve got no choice. We have to go.”

“I’m glad we didn’t tell you, because we had such a beautiful Christmas Day,” their mother continued. “But it means we’ve got to get going now. So … we’re very sorry, but … chop chop! On your feet, mateys!” she cried, attempting enthusiasm.

Dipper could feel himself starting to hyperventilate, but struggled to contain his panic. “But … but what abou-”

“No ‘buts’,” interrupted his father. “This isn’t up for debate, and the clock is ticking. We have too much packing and a lot of driving to do today. Get up, now!” he said, his tone becoming more authoritarian as he looked at his children’s crestfallen faces. “I’m sorry kids, but there is nothing else we can do.”

Another voice spoke up. “Maybe there is.”

Everyone turned to the attic bedroom door. Standing in his bathrobe and slippers, an over-tired Stan held himself up with one hand on the door frame.

“Kid,” he said, addressing his adult nephew, “just … let ‘em stay here for the rest of the holidays!”

Mabel sniffed hopefully. “Really?” she asked.

“Oh, Stanley,” the twins’ mother said. “That’s very generous of you, but-”

“Yeah, it is,” Stan deadpanned. “I surprise myself sometimes with how generous I am.”

Dipper piped up. “I’d be okay with staying!”

“Uncle Stan,” their father replied quickly, “you’ve taken them in enough times already. We can’t ask you to-”

“Fine! Then I’ll ask you!” Stan shot back. “Can you please leave the kids here, while you two go home? Maybe then you can all stop yapping, you two can finish packing your stuff, and I can go back to bed until you’re ready to go! All right?”

Dipper and Mabel didn’t have to act. Their faces bore the most desperate, pleading expressions possible as their parents turned to look at them for confirmation.

Two hours later, the Pines family car was moving out the driveway of the Mystery Shack. Stan watched it go from the front porch, flanked on either side by a young teenager. Soon the sound of the car faded completely, and an uncomfortable silence fell on the three.

“OK, kids,” Stan finally grunted. “You got lucky, and now’s your chance. You’ve got a little more than a week. Work it out yourself if you want. Or if you need me to help, that works too. You’re brother and sister, and you’ve got to figure out if that’s all you are. But whatever happens, you’d better figure it out for sure this time before you get on the bus a week from Saturday.”

Stan turned around and headed in the door. “It’s cold out, I’m going inside. Let me know if you need me.”

He closed the door, leaving Dipper and Mabel alone standing on the top step, looking uncertainly at each other.

To be continued ...
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Fistbump 2: Unspeakable (a Pinecest story)