Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For the first time all summer, the Pines twins weren’t sharing the attic room. Mabel had claimed it for herself, insisting it was “sparkle-compatible,” while Dipper had taken the room on the first floor—closer to the ground, more space for his maps, books, and mystery board. It was a fair compromise. Logical. Even overdue, by some standards.

But logic didn’t chase away the silence.

Mabel tossed and turned, the twinkle lights strung along the attic ceiling casting a soft glow. Waddles snored gently nearby, but it wasn’t the same. The attic felt bigger now. Empty in a way she hadn’t expected.

Her eyes fluttered closed one more time.

She dreamt of shadows. A forest that never ended. Running, running—and Dipper was ahead, just out of reach. She screamed for him, but her voice made no sound. He turned, expressionless, and vanished into the trees.

She jolted upright, sweat clinging to her brow, breath hitching in panicked gasps. “Dipper?” she called instinctively into the dark.

No answer.

She was alone.

The fear curled around her chest like a cold hand. Her eyes stung. Waddles stirred slightly, but he couldn’t help.

Only one person could.

Mabel leapt from bed, grabbing her favorite unicorn blanket on the way out. She tiptoed down the creaky stairs, each step echoing too loudly in the quiet house. Her heart thumped harder with every foot closer to Dipper’s room. The door was closed.

She knocked softly at first. No answer.

Swallowing her nerves, she eased the door open.

Dipper was lying in bed, the room dimly lit by his reading lamp. A journal rested on his chest, forgotten. His eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling, unfocused.

He turned his head at the sound, eyebrows raising slightly when he saw her. “Mabel?”

She didn’t answer. Just crossed the room in two hurried steps and climbed into bed beside him, flinging her arms around his torso and burying her face in his chest. Her whole body trembled.

Dipper didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and resting his chin gently on top of her head.

“Hey, hey…” he murmured softly. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

She hiccuped. “I had a nightmare. You were gone. And I woke up, and… and I was alone, and it felt real, Dip…”

“I’m here,” he whispered, rubbing small circles into her back and gently caressing her hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Her tears soaked into his pajama shirt, but she didn’t care and neither did he. They stayed like that for a while, the sound of the ticking clock on the wall the only noise in the room.

Once she calmed down, Mabel lifted her head just slightly. “I don’t like it, Dipper. Having my own room. It’s too quiet without you. And cold. And lonely. And—”

“Yeah,” Dipper said before she could spiral again, cupping her wet cheek and thumbing away some of her tears. “Same here.”

Mabel blinked. “Really?”

“I thought I’d like it—more space, no glitter in my socks—but… I couldn’t stop thinking about how we always say goodnight and then talk for like twenty minutes before actually sleeping. I missed that.”

A soft smile tugged at her lips. “Then let’s go back to the attic tomorrow.”

“Deal,” Dipper said without hesitation.

She adjusted the blanket, snuggling closer to his chest and tightening the hold that she had on him. “Sleepover for tonight?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said, pulling the covers over both of them, before pulling Mabel close, his hand guiding Mabel's head to where his heartbeat was

"Love you Dipper" Mabel mumbled

"Love you too Mabel" Dipper whispered softly back

Mabel’s breathing slowed. Dipper’s eyes fluttered shut.

And for the first time that night, the silence wasn’t scary. It was peaceful.

Two heartbeats, steady and in sync. As it should be.

Chapter Text

The applause was gone. The puppets lay in pieces. The chaos had ended.

Dipper sat on the edge of the bed, his body bandaged and bruised, the phantom touch of Bill Cipher still crawling over his skin. Even though he was free now—his mind was his own again—he didn’t feel like celebrating. Not when his chest ached with memories and Mabel’s normally bright eyes had looked so shadowed as they’d left the theater together.

Stan had patched them up and Soos gave them both a thumbs-up before disappearing to crash downstairs. The house was quiet now. Dipper hadn’t realized how much he hated the quiet until tonight.

He lay back, staring at the ceiling, the faint glow-in-the-dark stars they’d stuck up there weeks ago offering little comfort. Mabel was curled up nearby on her side of the room, Waddles by her feet.

Sleep came eventually. But peace didn’t.

Dipper’s dream was a storm. Fire and laughter, blue flames licking at his feet, the sensation of being pulled apart, of strings tangled in his thoughts. Bill’s voice echoed through his mind:

“You’re weak, kid. You're nothing without me.”

His limbs moved without his control. A puppet again. No escape. No end.

He gasped awake, sweat slicking his brow, chest rising and falling in jagged breaths.

He sat up and scrubbed at his face, grounding himself in the dark, in the attic, in the real world.

But then—

A whimper.

A choked sob.

Dipper looked over.

Mabel twisted in her blanket, tears streaming down her cheeks as she mumbled in her sleep, voice trembling, “Dipper… no… please… Dipper!”

Dipper’s stomach dropped. He was at her side in an instant.

“Mabel,” he said gently, reaching out and brushing her shoulder. “Hey… Mabel, wake up.”

She jolted awake with a sharp cry, bolting upright and sobbing out his name: “Dipper!”

“I’m right here,” he said quickly, grabbing her shoulders as she blinked wildly through tears. “Mabel—hey, it’s okay. I’m okay. I’m right here.”

Their eyes met.

And she broke.

Mabel threw herself into his chest, arms clinging around his middle, her sobs bursting out full force into the soft fabric of his night shirt. “You—Bill—he took you and I couldn’t—I watched—I watched him throw you off the water tower and I—”

“Shhh,” Dipper whispered, arms closing around her protectively. “I’ve got you, Mabel. I’m okay. I’m here. Bill’s gone.”

He eased them down onto the mattress, letting her lie against him as he wrapped the blanket around her small form. She gripped him tighter, refusing to let go, her body trembling like a leaf in a storm.

“It felt real,” she sobbed. “You weren’t you. I tried to help but it was too late. I couldn’t save you.”

“You did save me,” Dipper said softly, rocking her gently back and forth. “You brought me back, remember? You were the only one who could. I’m safe because of you.”

She sniffled, her fingers curling tighter into his shirt. “I was so scared.”

“I know,” he whispered, burying his face in her hair. “Me too.”

The minutes ticked by. Mabel’s sobs slowly softened, her breathing steadier as exhaustion overtook fear. Her grip loosened only slightly, still curled up against his chest like she’d never let go again.

Dipper stayed still, rubbing her back, watching the moonlight spill across the attic floor. She needed him tonight. More than anything.

And he wasn’t going anywhere.

He tugged the covers over both of them, keeping her warm and close. She stirred only once, mumbling something incoherent, and then settled with a quiet sigh.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered, “Sweet dreams. I love you, Mabel.”

Then, finally, Dipper let his eyes drift shut, his sister safe in his arms.

Chapter Text

The unicorn glitter had mostly faded from Mabel’s hair, but the sting of their words hadn’t.

The room was dark now, save for the gentle glow of her nightlight shaped like a narwhal. Waddles snored quietly in his beanbag bed. The attic should have felt warm and safe again, but Mabel lay on her side, wide awake, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars above. Her blanket was clutched up under her chin, but it didn’t help.

She kept hearing it.

“You're not pure of heart.”

No matter how many times she reminded herself that unicorns were jerks—or liars—it still dug deep.

Was she… not a good person?

The thought echoed, heavy and awful.

She didn’t notice the door creak open.

Dipper padded in quietly, returning from the bathroom, rubbing one eye sleepily. But when he looked over, he paused.

“Mabel?” he asked softly, voice still scratchy with sleep. “You’re awake?”

She blinked quickly and shifted under the blanket. “Yeah,” she murmured.

Dipper walked over and crouched beside her bed. “You okay?”

Mabel hesitated, then sat up slightly, hugging her knees to her chest. Her voice was so quiet, it almost broke. “Dipper… do you think I’m a good person?”

Dipper blinked, stunned. “What? Of course I do. Why would you even—?”

She looked away. “The unicorns… they said I wasn’t pure of heart. That I wasn’t good enough to get past their test. I know they’re kind of the worst, but… I’ve been thinking about it. What if they’re right?”

Dipper didn’t waste a second. He climbed onto her bed and wrapped his arms tightly around her. “Mabel,” he said firmly, “you are the best person in the whole world.”

Mabel’s breath hitched, and she clung to him. “But I mess up sometimes. I can be selfish, or silly, or loud—”

“Everyone messes up,” Dipper said, resting his chin on top of her head. “You’re kind. You’re creative. You make people smile. You care about everyone, sometimes too much. You’re my hero, Mabel. Don’t let a bunch of glittered-up snobs make you doubt that.”

Tears streamed down Mabel’s face as she sobbed into his chest. “You’re the best twin ever, Dip.”

He smiled gently and rocked her a little, rubbing her back in slow, steady motions. “You’re the best part of me, Mabel.”

She didn’t respond right away—just let herself be held, safe and warm in her brother’s arms. His fingers threaded gently through her hair, the soft motions calming her shaking shoulders.

Eventually, her breathing began to slow. She yawned against his shoulder, voice muffled. “Love you, Dipper…”

“I love you too, Mabes,” he whispered.

She was asleep within moments, her arms still loosely around his waist.

Dipper glanced down at her peaceful face, brushing a few strands of hair from her eyes. Then he tucked the blanket around them both and settled in beside her.

He’d sleep here tonight. And tomorrow night, if she needed.

Because no one mattered more than his twin sister.

He kissed her forehead softly before letting his eyes drift closed.

Note to self:
Always tell her how amazing she is.

Chapter Text

The sky was wrong.

It shifted colors without reason—sickly greens, burning reds, purples that shimmered like bruises on the world. The air smelled of smoke and metal and fear. Gravity Falls had become unrecognizable in just a matter of hours.

Or… was it days?

Time didn’t work right anymore.

Dipper pulled his hat tighter around his head, his jacket more over himself to cover up the cold, and ducked into the husk of what used to be a convenience store, now warped and cracked in impossible angles. The shadows here were safe enough—at least for now. He hadn’t seen any of Bill’s monsters for the past hour. That was probably the best break he’d had since this whole nightmare began.

He let his bag fall to the ground, slumping into the corner behind a toppled fridge, arms wrapping tightly around his knees.

The silence felt too loud.

His thoughts wouldn’t stop spinning.

Mabel.

He kept seeing her face. Not just her smile. Not her laugh. Not the way she always tried to bring light into every room.

No.

What haunted him was the look she gave him.

That moment before she disappeared. Before Bill’s twisted bubble took her. Before everything fell apart.

"You're leaving me too?"

"I don't want summer to end"

He’d tried to be gentle. Tried to explain.

But all she’d heard was that he was choosing Ford—not her.

And now she was gone.

Dipper clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the trembling in his hands.

Why didn’t I stop her? Why didn’t I grab her hand?

He didn't even know where she was. No one did. Just rumors. Whispers of a “bubble.” Of Mabel being kept in some twisted prison designed by Bill himself. But that could be a lie.

She could be anywhere.

Or… she could be…

“No,” Dipper whispered, voice cracking. “Don’t go there.”

But his brain already had.

What if he never saw her again? Never heard her goofy laugh or had another one of her infamous bedtime glitter attacks? What if he never got to tell her—

His throat closed up. Tears welled fast, burning behind his eyes.

He hadn’t told her.

Not really. Not enough.

How much she meant to him. How much she was him. Half of him. The best half.

Dipper curled tighter into himself, the cool floor biting into his side as his silent tears turned to shaky sobs.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the silence. “I’m sorry I was going to stayed. I thought I was doing the right thing, but… I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t mean to leave you.”

His voice broke completely.

“I just want to see you again.”

He sniffled and swiped at his eyes, only for more tears to fall. He could still feel her arms around him from the last time she hugged him. Hear her voice, bright and hopeful, telling him everything would be okay. That they'd face everything together.

But now he was here.

Alone.

And the worst part wasn’t the monsters or the fear or the sky that bent in on itself.

The worst part was knowing she might be gone. That she might think he gave up on her. That he might not get the chance to tell her how much he loved her.

He buried his face in his arms.

And that night—if it could still be called night—Dipper cried himself to sleep, hidden in the ruins of a broken town, heart aching for the one person he needed more than anyone.

“Please be okay, Mabel.”

“Please wait for me.”

Chapter Text

The town was quiet again.

Too quiet, in a way that didn’t feel quite real. Gravity Falls had always had its weirdness, its quirks, its energy. But tonight, the stillness was deafening—an unfamiliar silence after weeks of screams and chaos, broken only by the soft chirp of crickets and the distant hoot of an owl.

The house was whole again. So was the town. Stan had been saved, the Rift sealed, and Bill—Bill was gone.

But peace wasn’t immediate.

Dipper tossed and turned in his bed, eyes clenched shut, fists gripping the blanket. In his mind, flames danced. Bill’s voice—slick and smug—echoed in his ears.

“You really think you can save her, Pine Tree?”

The scene shifted. The Shack burned. Ford was turned to gold. Stan screamed as his memories were ripped away.

And Mabel—

She was gone.

Just gone.

Dipper sat bolt upright in bed, a ragged scream tearing from his throat.

“MABEL!”

At that exact moment, a shriek came from across the attic.

“DIPPER!”

They scrambled out of bed, heartbeats thundering in perfect sync as they bolted toward each other in the dark. The attic floor creaked beneath their frantic steps, but they didn’t stop until they collided in the center of the room.

They dropped to their knees, arms flung tight around each other, sobs breaking free.

“I-I thought you were gone!” Mabel cried into Dipper’s shoulder, clinging to him like he might vanish again.

“I thought I lost you,” Dipper choked, burying his face in her hair. “You were just gone and I couldn’t— I didn’t—”

They held each other there on the cold attic floor, tears mixing, hearts beating wild. Their hands grasped at shirts and sleeves and hair, anything to make sure the other was really there.

Eventually, the sobs dulled into hiccups and sniffles, but their grip never loosened.

“I dreamed…” Mabel began, voice cracking, “I dreamed Bill came back. He made me choose—you or Grunkle Stan—and when I picked you, he laughed. He said it didn’t matter. And then you both disappeared. I was alone again. Forever.”

Dipper held her tighter. “I dreamed I was back in that bubble... and I couldn’t get to you. No matter how loud I screamed, no matter how hard I ran, you were slipping away.”

Mabel’s voice shook. “I don’t want to be alone, Dipper. I don’t ever want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” he promised, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m here. I’m always going to be here, Mabel.”

They sat in silence for a moment, letting the weight of the summer settle around them. All the laughter. All the chaos. All the love and terror and memories.

Tomorrow, the bus would come.

But tonight was still theirs.

Wordlessly, Dipper helped her onto his bed. She curled up beside him without hesitation, her cheek against his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around her.

They breathed in sync.

“I love you, Mabel,” Dipper whispered as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “So much.”

Mabel looked up, eyes soft with emotion. She reached up and kissed his cheek, then rested her head against his heart. “I love you so much too, Dipper. Nothing will ever change that.”

He smiled against her hair. The stars outside glimmered. The world turned.

And even though tomorrow would take them back to a world without monsters and magic and mystery…

They would always have each other.