A/N: Wow, sorry guys! I don't know why the first upload went all funky, but here's the decoded version. My bad! Thanks for your patience!

Mabel woke up by falling out of bed and landing face-first in the carpet.

The room was dark, and her heart was thundering, breath coming in short gasps. She sat up slowly, the words from her dream echoing in her head. Something about it, that phrase, Shooting Star…

Mabel took a couple of deep breaths, crossing her legs as she sat on the floor. This was her room. She was home, and she was safe. It wasn't even that bad a nightmare. She'd had worse. Far worse.

She reached up onto her bed, after a moment, scrabbling for her phone. When she switched the screen on the light blazed, and she winced, squinting at the time. It was nearly two in the morning.

With a little groan, she stood up. She hadn't even brushed her teeth before passing out. Actually… she glanced down and groaned again, louder this time. She hadn't even taken off her shoes.

Using the light of her phone, Mabel trudged downstairs. She wanted water, and she needed to brush her teeth.

She made her way in the darkness, half by muscle memory. She'd snuck downstairs so many times in her life that she knew exactly where the floors creaked if you stepped on them, and where all the tables and chairs were - her mom hadn't rearranged the house in years. Mabel, on the other hand, had changed her side of the room six times in the past year. She always left Dipper's side alone. Always, except to dust.

Grumbling to herself, she reached the kitchen, turning on the lights and going through the cupboards to retrieve a glass. Still feeling a little unsteady from the dream, she got ice from the ice dispenser, and slowly filled the cup with water. As she waited for the cup to fill, she glanced over the things magneted to the fridge. There were at least three takeout menus, and loads of old family photos. Things from family reunions, pictures from christmases with everyone in sweaters that Mabel had knit. A couple of christmas cards from cousins, all sitting awkwardly in front of the wavy blue backdrop of a photo studio. Mabel had always frowned on photo studio portraits; she could make better backdrops herself, and had, many times in the past.

Her gaze drifted down, catching on the corner of a photograph that had been obscured by one of the takeout menus. She moved brushed aside the takeout menu, then sucked in a sharp breath.

It was an old picture. Five years old, she remembered it. Two little kids standing in front of a Speedy Beaver bus station, arms around each other's shoulders, both with grins so wide it looked like it hurt. Her and Dipper, right before they left for Gravity Falls. But what held her attention was the sweater she wore in that old picture. It had been too hot for a sweater that day, but she'd insisted on wearing it anyways. It had been one of her favorites, for a little while.

Bright pink, with a shooting star streaking across the front.

Cold water ran over her fingers, and Mabel jumped, letting out a little squeak. She'd overfilled the glass while she'd been staring, and with her jump she spilled even more, the water splattering across the kitchen linoleum.

If it had been any other time, she would've groaned. Right now, though, her pulse was beating in her throat, and she didn't know why.

"It's just a sweater," she mumbled to herself, setting down the too-full glass on the counter. She reached for the paper towels, ripping off a handful and kneeling down to wipe the water off the floor. From out of the hallway, Cupcakes came trotting in, just in time to stare with wide eyes as Mabel mopped up her spill.

"Just a sweater, and just a stupid dream." Mabel threw the paper towels into the trash can, then paused, staring down at Cupcakes. "I mean, why wouldn't I dream about shooting stars? Shooting stars are great!" She threw her arms out, turning and wandering across the kitchen. Cupcakes made a noise that sounded like mrrow and followed. "Plus today - or I guess yesterday - was the anniversary, so maybe I just remembered the sweater and had a weird dream! That's not that strange. Everyone has weird dreams!"

Mabel stood. It didn't ring right, even as she said it. She was the queen of weird dreams. Even in the beginning there had been cat unicorns, big enough to ride. That was the kind of strange dream she had. Not this, not shooting stars. She frowned at the air, frustrated, and she started to tap her fingers on the countertop.

An idea flickered into her head. A silly idea, but an idea nonetheless. She fished her phone out of her pocket, finding the number from the voicemail Grunkle Stan had left earlier. After a moment of pondering, she opened up a new text; that way, if he was asleep, maybe she wouldn't wake him.

Grunkle Stan, do you remember what sweater I was wearing when I came to Gravity Falls?

She hit send, and immediately put her phone down on the counter. It was a stupid idea. She didn't even know if Grunkle Stan could figure out how to text. He might end up spending the next two days trying to figure out why a little notification had popped up.

Mabel finally indulged in a good loud groan, and she went for her mom's secret chocolate stash hidden in the cupboard over the sink. All of this weird feeling called for the sweet, sweet release of sugar and endorphins.

She was kneeling on the counter, staring into the cupboard over the sink and glowering at a Milky Way bar when the text tone for her phone went off. She jumped for the second time that night, wobbling precariously on the counter before grasping the edge of the cupboard to steady herself. She passed up the Milky Way bar - it was too star-related for her tastes right now - and grabbed one of those expensive European chocolate bars that her mom occasionally bought instead.

Clambering down from the counter, Mabel tore open the chocolate bar, stuck it in her mouth, and then grabbed her phone. It couldn't be Grunkle Stan, she reasoned, it was two in the morning; probably one of her friends.

But the little notification on her phone screen was that Oregon phone number. And the text that had come from that number was nearly illegible. If somebody had taught Grunkle Stan how to text - and it was probably Soos and Wendy, if anybody - they had forgotten to tell him where to find punctuation.

y do u sk and w hat r u dogin up so l8

Mabel stared at it for a while, trying to parse...whatever the heck that was. The novelty of having her Grunkle text her was immediately dashed by the mash of letters on her screen.

She took the time to finish her chocolate bar while she decoded Grunkle Stan's message, and then she replied, thumbs flying over the virtual keyboard of her phone.

What am I doing up late?! What are you doing up late! You have a store to run!

She paused, considering sidetracking herself and asking about Waddles. But the idea of having to wade through more of Grunkle Stan's texting made her shudder.

I had a weird dream. About shooting stars.

She hit send, and she stood there waiting. Cupcakes rubbed up against her ankles again, then flopped over on her feet, purring like a freight train.

She had just started to tap her fingers on the counter impatiently when she got the first text. It was one and a half words total.

thsts eir

A moment later, another followed, only slightly more legible.

thats weird r u tlking abt the pink sweter with the star rainbo

Mabel started typing once more. Her fingers hesitated over the buttons as a question popped into her head. It was a long shot. She couldn't remember getting any nicknames over the summer she'd been in Gravity Falls, but she also couldn't remember most of the summer. Not in very good detail. Maybe…

Yeah. Did anyone ever call me that? Shooting Star, I mean. Like as a nickname.

It wasn't particularly cold in the kitchen, but she shivered a little when she hit send anyways. The pressure and warmth of Cupcakes on her feet was only slightly soothing. She bent down, picking up the cat and cuddling him close to her chest as she walked from the kitchen into the darkened living room. She didn't bother to turn on a light, flopping down onto the couch as she waited for Grunkle Stan's response. Cupcakes shifted, curling up on Mabel's chest and stretching out a paw to rest squarely on Mabel's chin.

Another text never came. She waited and waited, until the soft rumble of Cupcakes' purr started to lull Mabel to sleep.

Right as she let her eyes drift shut, her phone rang.

It was loud, and both she and Cupcakes jumped. Cupcakes jumped with claws, though, and it took everything Mabel had not to shout as Cupcakes used Mabel as a springboard to launch across the room. If she shouted, she'd wake up her parents, and then she'd have to explain why Grunkle Stan was calling her at two in the morning.

She scrabbled for the phone, answering it as quick as she possibly could, if only to silence the ringing.

"Hello?" Her Grunkle's voice came through, tinny and rough. "Hello? Is this thing on?"

"Yes, Grunkle Stan, I can hear you," Mabel said, and she hissed a little as she rubbed the spots where Cupcakes had dug her claws in. That was going to hurt in the morning. "What's up?"

"Ah, I can't type too good on this tiny keyboard," Grunkle Stan grumbled. "My fingers are too big for it. What, did they make this thing for babies? Anyhow. How ya doing, kid?"

"I'm okay," Mabel said, smiling a little in spite of herself. Her parents never got it, why she wanted to keep talking to Grunkle Stan. In their eyes, he'd become a failure as soon as Dipper had vanished under Stan's supervision. But Mabel trusted him completely. If she could be herself around anyone anymore, it was probably Grunkle Stan. "I mean, a little weirded out by the nightmare…"

"Nightmare? I thought you said it was a dream," Stan said.

Mabel shrugged, even though Grunkle Stan couldn't see it. "I don't know, it wasn't really a nightmare nightmare. It was just freaky. All the stars fell out of the sky and a voice called me shooting star."

Grunkle Stan went silent on the other end of the line for a moment. He huffed a sigh. "And that's why you think it mighta been some kind of nickname?"

Hearing somebody else say it, it sounded silly. "Yeah," Mabel said, voice small. She cleared her throat and continued on. "It's just, since it was the anniversary… anyhow, it sounds familiar! I just can't think of who might've called me that."

Stan grunted. "Not Soos's style. Maybe Wendy?"

Mabel smiled again. She loved Stan a little more for just going with the idea. He could've argued that it was a stupid dream, like she'd been telling herself all night, but he didn't. He was the best Grunkle. "I don't think so, 'cuz she hasn't called me that any of the times I called to talk to Waddles."

"Pig's doin' great, by the way," Stan said. "Soos keeps feeding him when I'm not around. If anything, this pig needs to lose weight. ...Oof. I need to lose weight."

"You could start jogging together," Mabel suggested. "you could get matching sweatbands!"

The noise that Grunkle Stan made it clear he wanted to avoid going any further down that avenue of discussion. "So if it ain't Wendy and it ain't Soos… I dunno, maybe… Lazy Susan?"

That was grasping at straws. Mabel twisted her lips, thinking back to the time that she'd tried to help Grunkle Stan land a date with Lazy Susan. That was the most time she'd spent with the woman, and it didn't ring a bell. "I don't think so," she said, after a moment of thought.

"I hate to say it, kid, but do you think it might've been Gideon?"

That sent a completely different type of shudder down Mabel's spine; one of disgust. "Eugh," she said. It was a fair question, Gideon had come up with a lot of nicknames for her when he'd been crushing on her. She hoped it had died down from as crazy as it had been. She didn't know if it did or not. Grunkle Stan had long since stopped telling her if he got letters from Gideon for her.

"Yeah, I know," Stan said. "Still, the little punk was…inventive."

Mabel considered it for a moment. She tried to remember what little she could about that summer. Gideon had come up with a lot of nicknames, but the only ones she could remember were related to food. Marshmallow, peach dumpling, nothing about stars.

"Not Gideon," she said firmly. She might not remember who had said it, but that at least she was certain of.

Stan grunted again. "Good. Little creep. Well, look, kid, I know the question might be stuck in your head right now, but you should get some rest. Don't you have your summer job?"

Mabel sat bolt upright. She did have another shift. An opening shift. She pulled the phone away from her face just long enough to check the time, and she winced. "Aw, darn it!"

"Yeah, I know the feeling," Stan lamented. "I'll think about it and get back to you tomorrow, how's about that?"

"Okay, okay," Mabel said. "I'll go to bed. If you do too."

Grunkle Stan gave an indistinct grumble before saying real words. "Soos is opening the shack anyways," he muttered. Then, a moment later, "ah, fine, okay. I'll sleep too. Hit the hay, kid."

"I'll hit it so hard it'll forget it's hay," Mabel said. "Goodnight, Grunkle Stan."

"Goodnight, Mabel. Sleep well."