Hi all, this is my first story and I thought I'd try my hand at Gravity Falls! The plot of this show is so crazy and I don't know how they get to air half of the stuff they do - it's fantastic. The characters will be a little OOC, but not so much so that they won't be their characters. This won't be BillDip, because frankly I am not a romance writer, but I guess you can insinuate whatever you want to.

Anyway, this story is unbeta'd so sorry for any mistakes if there are any. I do speak British Englsh, but I try to write in American English because the story is set in America and most of the readers on this site are American. So sorry if some words have an extra 'U' or an 'S' instead of a 'Z'.

I don't own Gravity Falls.

EDIT: For reference; Stanford is the Author. Stanley is Fez Stan. I originally wrote this story the other way around, before AToTS, so there any be some mistakes, as I have altered each chapter since then. I apologise in advance if their are any mistakes! It follows the plot after NWHS.

Also. Im pretty sure it's obvious I don't own Gravity Falls.

Grunkle Stan. I trust you.

It still hurt.

She had trusted that traitor over her own brother. It hurt. God, did it hurt. This wasn't like the puppet show, where she'd dismissed his need for her help over the laptop.

This...this was utter betrayal.

This was her completely ignoring the facts. This was her completely ignoring the fact that all the signs had pointed to Stan being the bad guy.

This. Sucked. So. Hard.

He didn't even care that he was wrong - okay, yeah, he sort of did - but that was besides the point. Why was she so freaking perfect? Why did she have to be right all the time? Why couldn't he have the spotlight for once?

Dipper stared up at the ceiling, throwing a ball at the roof and catching it when it came back down, reviewing the events of the previous evening.

He couldn't believe it when his great uncle walked out of the portal, six fingers and all. The author of the journals - the man he'd been trying to find all summer. Stanford was a duplicate of his brother Stanley, at least in looks (besides the six fingers thing). Personality wise they were complete opposites.

And worst of all he'd taken the 3rd Journal.

His journal.

He'd taken his journal.

Okay, so, maybe it wasn't my journal, per say, but I had it for the whole summer! Finders keepers losers weepers, right?

He'd said 'a kid your age shouldn't have this', and 'Stanley, what the hell were you thinking letting him keep that?'. His hands curled into fists just thinking about it. He was so mad. What did he have if he didn't have that book? Nothing.

Without it, he was nothing.

A gentle knock at the door pulled him out of his musings, and he blinked rapidly to regather his thoughts.

"Dipper its lunch time. Are you coming with us?" Mabel called from the other side. Dipper paused as he made to throw the ball again. His gaze flickered to the lock on the door.

Still bolted. Good.

He turned on his side and ignored her.

"Dipper...don't be a doodie head!" She tried again after a few minutes. "Let's talk about this!"

He threw the ball at the wall across from him, harder this time. It smashed into a painting, the glass protecting it shattering onto the ground. How many times had she tried to persuade him out of his bedroom? He couldn't remember, but she'd been trying since last night when she had come up to tell him they were ordering pizza for dinner, and wanted to know what type he wanted and he hadn't answered.

So maybe the thirtieth or so?

They'd hidden out in a motel outside of Gravity Falls in a town called Chester's Peak. They'd had to get away after the portal had puked out their great uncle. How there were suddenly two Stan Pines wouldn't have been an easy thing to explain, after all. So now they were staying in the nice, little, normal town of Chester's Peak.

And Dipper hated it.

"Come on, Dipper! Stop being a jerk! Great Uncle Ford is back. You should at least talk to him."

Dipper squeezed his eyes his shut at his Great Uncle's name. It wasn't that he hated him - he'd barely said two words to the guy. It was just that having him around made him feel so...useless.

If he define everyone down into one quality, he...he had nothing special to offer. Mabel had the heart - the wackiness and creativity. An innate goodness and forgiving nature that he just didn't have. Couldn't have. Grunkle Stan had the brawn, and could fight off anyone and anything that he wanted too. All he had was noodle arms and luck.

And Stanford had knowledge. Brains. Everything that he himself had, times like, one thousand. He knew more about the supernatural. He knew more about science. He knew more about everything.

And...that left him with...?

With what?

Dipper rubbed his forehead under his hair, sitting up and pulling his hat on. He had to get over this feeling. None of them had done anything wrong. If they'd listened to him, Grunkle Stan wouldn't have gotten his brother back.

He couldn't image what it would be like to lose Mabel.

Standing, he walked over to the door and unlock it. Dipper pushed open the door.

"Dipper..." Mabel said, looking Dipper up and down. She looked like she didn't know what to say, her mouth opening and closing. He didn't think he looked too bad, considering he'd slept in his clothes.

"I'm a mess. I know. Let's just...eat, and I'll clean up later okay?" He said.

Mabel stared at him, then smiled that bright, brace filled smile of hers. "Awkward sibling hug?" She asked, voice a little timid.

"Awkward sibling hug," he said, leaning forward to hug her, and she hugged him back.

"Pat, pat," they said together, patting each other's backs and Mabel laughed as they pulled away. Dipper just smiled a little.

"Come on, Dipping Sauce," she cheered, squeezing out of the little hallway that was in their motel room. There was three rooms in the mini hall - one for Grunkle Stan, one for Great Uncle Ford, and one for Dipper and Mabel - plus a bathroom and toilet. All the rooms were tiny. Judging by the bright pink blanket on the couch, Mabel had slept their last night. He felt guilty for kicking her out of their shared room, but he had hadn't been in a good place. He didn't want to have an argument.

He followed Mabel into the kitchen slash sitting room. Grunkle Stan was going over the journals with Great Uncle Ford at the sitting room table, the two speaking quickly to each other. He felt a twinge of possessiveness when he saw they were going through his journal. His notes, to be exact - the ones he'd slowly been scribbling into the blank pages.

The pair glanced up at Dipper as he entered the room. Grunkle Stan cleared his throat. "Dipper." He said, his brother just watching Dipper. Dipper said nothing as he sat down, glancing at the empty takeout boxes on the table. Mabel dropped a box of it into his lap. "Noodles." She said. "Your favorite kind."

"Thank you." He said, opening the box and grabbing the chopsticks she handed him. He honestly wasn't that hungry, but he knew he had to eat.

Stanford wouldn't stop staring at him, and Dipper was beginning to feel unnerved. "Would you stop that? It's creeping me out." He said.

He looked away for just a few moments. "Boy. Dipper, I mean." He said.

"What?" Dipper said, eyes narrowing slightly as he gripped the chopsticks tight in one hand, anticipating what he might say..

His great uncle nodded a little, as if Dipper's defensive response had proven something for him. "You're smart, kid. Just be careful not to get yourself into any more trouble, okay?"

Dipper's brows furrowed slightly. What did he mean by that? Did he think he went looking for trouble or something? "I don't try to get myself killed, if that's what you mean." He said. "Dipper..." Mabel warned after sharing a glance with their Grunkle.

Again, Stanford was silent, just watching Dipper, who promptly looked at his noodle box and started to eat. They really were satisfying to his grieving stomach, and he relished the taste.

He couldn't help but wonder what Stanford was thinking. The man was an enigma; he just didn't understand him. When Stanford had come out of that portal...he'd thought maybe things would change - and they had, but...not in the way he had thought they would.

He set the box down, looking at the half eaten noodles. Suddenly, he wasn't so hungry anymore.

Dipper's eyes flashed open when he heard footsteps in the room that night. The squeak of the floorboard had startled him into consciousness. He hadn't been sleeping exactly - just drifting in and out. Letting his subconscious take the reins for once. He spotted the bright pink sweater in the darkness, like a fork among knives. Mabel. He closed his eyes, keeping them open just enough for it to look like he was asleep but to still be able to see her. She crouched in front of him, looking him in the eyes.

"Dippeeeeer." She whispered loudly. He continued to pretend to sleep, letting his chest rise and fall as if he was, and keeping his muscles relaxed. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. His brows twitched ever so slightly, but he stopped them from furrowing. Why was he pretending to sleep? Had things gotten so strained between them that he would rather avoid her than have to talk?

No matter how hurt he felt, he didn't want that. So he cleared his throat, opening his eyes up again.

"Mabel." He said.

He could make out her face breaking out into a grin. She picked up Waddles, dumping him onto the big double bed. "Stop hogging all the room, dork." She said, forcing him to roll over so she could climb in next to Waddles, pulling the pig close. "Oink oink." She said to the pig.

Dipper looked at her from the corner of his eyes, quiet.

"What was that, Waddles?" She gasped, playing with the pigs mouth. "You want to tell Dipper something?"

What the heck was she playing at?

"Oink oink." The 'pig' said.

"Waddles! Of course Dipper knows I'm sorry for ignoring him! We awkward hugged and everything!" Mabel paused to look at Dipper as he turned his head to look at the ceiling. "But that doesn't mean I'm sorry for getting Great Uncle Ford back."

"Okay, Mabel, I get it." Dipper said. "I know that I was wrong. Don't rub it in my face."

"I'm not rubbing it in your face." She said, tone a little more serious. "I'm just saying that...if I had listened to you, Grunkle wouldn't have gotten his brother back. I trust Grunkle Stan. He's a total conman, and he might have been lying to us all summer, but he's not..." She breathed out a sigh. "But he isn't a bad guy."

Dipper nodded. "I know, Mabel." He agreed. "But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt." He too, breathed a sigh. "I forgive you. You know I do. But it still hurt. You've gotta understand that. You're my twin and I...I just thought you had my back is all."

"I do, Dipper!"

"You know what I mean, Mabel. All the facts said Grunkle Stan was the bad guy. All the facts said we were going to die. I value my life."

Mabel was silent, just looking at him.

"But you were right, and Grunkle Stan...he looks so happy now. And so do you. I shouldn't be such a mope about it. Just because I was wrong." Again. As usual.

"Jeez, Dipper, don't be so down!" Mabel's voice lightened up, but Dipper could feel that the words coming out were forced as she punched his arm. "Just go to sleep, okay? Grunkle Stan and Great Uncle Ford said we'd all go to the grocery shop and that we'd get to pick anything we want!"

"You'll be picking Gummy Koalas no doubt?" He said.

"And you'll be picking Pitt Cola." She replied.

Dipper fought the small smile that appeared on his face. "Of course. What else?" He said. Mabel chuckled, pulling Waddles closer to her. The pig oinked.

"Waddles says goodnight." Mabel said.

"Goodnight, Waddles."

"Waddles wants a kiss."

"Ew, gross, Mabel."

Mabel beamed cheekily. "Night bro-bro."

"Goodnight."

Dipper rubbed his eyes as he stared at himself in the mirror. Mabel was brushing her teeth so hard she looked like she'd caught rabies. He pulled at his bottom lid. Had he always had bags that big beneath them? He felt as if he hadn't gotten a second of sleep. His muscles ached, and he felt lethargic. What the heck had he been dreaming about to ache this much?

"Hey, Mabel?"

She made a noise around the toothbrush.

"I wasn't like, kicking your or something in my sleep, was I?"

She looked as if she was about to swallow the toothpaste (gross), but spat it into the basin instead. "No. I didn't feel you hitting me or anything anyway, if you did."

"Hm." He said, looking at her, then back at the mirror. She smacked him hard on the back, turning the water on to wash out the toothpaste. "Don't be a worry wart, bro-bro." She tutted.

Mabel washed out the sink, watching the water spinning in the bowl. "Dipper. I never asked you last night, but what was that between you and Great Uncle Ford last night?"

Dipper blew out a breath. "I don't know...I guess he just doesn't like me or something."

Mabel frowned a little, watching him for a moment. He could see her pushing the thought to the back of her mind, perking up instantly. He always wished he was like her in that retrospect. She had this uncanny ability to push her more troubling thoughts to the back of her mind, whereas he was constantly constantly constantly thinking about what could go wrong, and what to do next. He glanced at her as she headed for the bathroom door. "Hurry up! I wanna go get my Gummy Koala's!" She demanded brightly, shutting the door behind her. Dipper turned to grab his toothbrush and the toothpaste, squeezing the tube until the creamy white was on the brush. He placed the brush into his mouth, brushing more gently than Mabel had been. It was a good question. Why did Great Uncle Ford say those things to him last night? Had he done something that got to him?

A spark flashed in the back of his mind, and he straightened where he stood, tooth brush hanging from his mouth.

Or maybe...maybe it was something he'd written.

He gripped the edge of the basin, gnawing on his toothbrush with his teeth as he thought. That would make sense. He often wrote in the journal when he felt paranoid. What if Great Uncle Ford had picked up on something Grunkle Stan missed? But surely, he hadn't written anything that greatly disturbing. Not enough to gain his mistrust? Right?

He rubbed his head, fingers brushing his still damp hair from the shower he'd taken this morning (he had really needed it. Not only did he feel refreshed, but his mind felt a little less clouded). He'd have to try get a hold of the journal - his journal - and take a look at what he'd written. Truthfully, he couldn't remember half of stuff he'd put in there.

Dipper pulled the toothbrush from his mouth, spitting the paste into the sink and washing it down the drain. He put the brush back in the holder, throwing the ball up and down in his left hand as he adjusted his hat with his right.

"Time to face the day."

Thanks for reading guys. Hopefully this chapter wasn't too boring. I'm trying to make this chapter more of a slow build. Slow building stories are just a preference of mine, but I have this inability to actually write slow building stories. It all has a point though, so trust me on that. Enjoy your weekend, wherever you are!