Forgive Me Forget Me

Part 1

Mabel Pines is twelve years old and her brother has been missing for 48 hours.

The police question her as if she knows something, as if she can give them more than she has. She's nothing left to give, no secrets to spill. Nothing they would believe. Her braces are hidden behind pursed lips that tremble every time Grunkle Stan's gaze passes over her. Her eyes are wide and frightened, speckled with tears that drip down whenever she closes her eyes too tightly.

Mable Pines is a twelve year old girl, but she feels as if she has aged 30 years in these last two days.

Dipper went missing sometimes. This was nothing new to Mabel, and as long as he was back in time to work, of no consequence to Grunkle Stan. He would go into the woods and come back with bumps and bruises and fairytale stories that no one but Soos and Mabel would believe in a million years. He'd laugh and smile, or limp and groan, but he always came back.

The first night had been the easiest. Mabel had consoled herself with fantasy images of Dipper getting trapped in a fairy ring and being too polite to leave, or losing track of time with some flirtatious naiads. Situations that made her laugh or smile, and fought away the fear that prickled in her stomach. She puts happy-faced stickers on herself, her bedpost, the window to pass the time and falls asleep on the floor.

The second had been the longest. It hadn't ended, really; she hadn't slept. When she'd gone to him on the first night, Grunkle Stan had at first dismissed her worries. He'd patted her head and told her that sometimes, boys needed 'alone time'. She'd protested, and he'd sighed – she could feel his reluctance. He didn't like involving the police in his life and she knew they both trusted Dipper. Sometimes he was late. Sometimes he was hurt. But he always came back.

He had to come back.

"Something's wrong. He should be home by now," Mabel had tried desperately in the morning.

Stan hadn't even looked up from his paper. "Kid, you know your brother, he-"

"He's not, he wasn't himself when he left." Mabel had rubbed the front of her face, struggling to word this correctly and keep her brother's secrets at the same time. She knew Stan hated involving the police, in anything. She had to make him understand. "He's been acting weird lately." Mabel's stomach had clenched as Stan sighed tiredly. He wasn't taking this seriously.

"No offense honey, but your brother's always weird. This is hardly news."

"He said- there was something in the woods."

"And he always thinks there's something in the woods. Mabel-"

"Please," she'd tried weakly. "Please. I'm scared for him." She'd grasped and pulled on the hem of her sweater, rolling the fabric into a ball and releasing it again and again.

Stan had pushed himself up from his chair, gotten down on one knee and patted her head. "Hey, kiddo. Easy. Easy. Your brother's fine."

"You don't know that," Mabel had countered desperately.

"Dipper's a scrappy little guy. Have a little faith in the kid." Stan had reseated himself in his arm chair and picked up his paper again. "He's gonna come traipsing in any minute now with another one of his make-believe stories."

Mabel had sat and waited on the porch of the shack the rest of the day. She'd watched tourists come and go, taking pictures of the totem and petting the wandering goat. She'd held hands with Soos, who came and sat by her on his free time and leaned against Wendy when the older girl had briefly taken her to the roof in an attempt to cheer her up. She'd stood on tiptoes, scanning the tree lines for any sign of her brother until she'd stumbled a little too closely to the edge and Wendy had carried her back down.