Gravity Falls One-Shots

Scars

"Everyone, get down!"

Ford watched as everyone ducked, the hippogriff flying around their heads, barely missing them. His twin brother, Stanley, had suggested taking a family walk, just the two of them, Dipper, and Mabel.

And then the flying horse-eagle hybrid attacked.

Good thing he never went anywhere without his gun.

Expertly wielding the weapon after decades of practice, Ford fired three times. All three hit, causing the creature to spiral out of the air. On its way down it raked its claws against his back, easily tearing through his trench coat and shirt.

He groaned, feeling the blood run down his back, but didn't voice his pain too loudly. Stan was bound to notice and he was always overprotective of Ford, even when they were kids.

"Oh my gosh, Great Uncle Ford, are you okay?!"
Dipper came running toward the older man, concern obvious on his face. Ford forced a smile.

"Yes, I'm fine, Dipper. Why don't you go make sure if the hippogriff is dead or not, alright?"

Dipper nodded, excitement flooding over every other emotion as he ran toward the lump of blue-grey fur and feathers.

Ford grit his teeth when he noticed his twin walking over, trying not to let his pain show on his face. "Hey Ford, you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Stanley. It's just a flesh-wound. It'll probably scar, but that's about it." He missed the look of panic on his brothers face as he had closed his eyes, trying to ground himself. In all honesty, it hurt like hell.

"Still, I wanna take a look at it. Over the years I've gotten pretty good at first aid, since there's no close by hospitals and there are a ton of monsters out in these woods." Stan took a step forward, but Ford stepped back.

"Stanley, I told you, I'm fine."

Stan's expression hardened. "Fine. Be that way. But whether you like it or not, I'm looking at it when we get back to the Shack. We're Pines, Stanford, and, even worse, we're twins. We're stubborn and I can read you better than you think, even after forty years."

He turned away to go poke the prone animal lying on the forest floor with Dipper and Mabel. Ford sighed.

"Hey, uh, Great Uncle Ford? This thing's still breathing!" Dipper's paranoid voice called him to the boy's side. He was right: the steady rise and fall of the hypogriff's sides explained that it was just unconscious.

"Oh well," Ford replied, standing from his crouched position next to the beast. "It won't bother us any more. Come, let's head home."

He turned his back toward the group, momentarily forgetting about the wound. I startled chorus of gasps snapped his attention back, however.

"Grunkle Ford...you're bleeding!"

Mabel's panicked voice made the six-fingered man stiffen. Turning around slowly, he forced a smile. "Children, I'm alright, I promise."

"But it looks like it hurts..." Mabel reached out a hand tentatively but quickly drew it back before touching him.

Ford glanced at Stan for help. He'd known the children longer. They would listen to him. Fortunately, his brother seemed to understand the silent plea in his eyes and said, "Uh, come on, you two. Let's go home. I've had enough exercise for one day."

Dipper stifled a laugh while Mabel said loudly. "Grunkle Stan, you're so lazy!"

"And fat. Don't forget I'm fat." Stan laughed along with the younger pair of siblings as he ushered them through the forest, Ford trailing behind. The initial dull pain he'd felt in his back was becoming increasingly worse the longer he moved.