Winged Falls

//Chapter Fourteen//

Mabel stumbled down the stairs from the attic, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Although her brain was still partially obscured with the fog of sleep, she felt more rested than she had in a while — due mainly to a lack of bad dreams, or any dreams at all. Mabel's sleep had been dark and empty, and it was a relief.

Now, if she could just find Dipper— his bed had been empty when she woke up, and coupling that with his going to bed early the night before, Mabel couldn't quite stop a small flower of worry from blossoming inside of her. Worry about what, exactly, she wasn't quite sure; after all, the night before, none of her worst fears had come to pass. Dipper hadn't rejected her, and he and Stan and Ford were going to help her get his memories back.

If she could just see and talk to him, it would help, Mabel thought. She hadn't been able to talk to Dipper alone after revealing that she was his sister — if she was being honest, the entire night before was a bit of a blur of showing her wings, explaining the situation, and answering the steady stream of questions coming from Stan and Ford. She'd wanted to talk to Dipper when she went to bed, but he was already asleep.

"He probably just got up early and is eating breakfast," Mabel said out loud. "What are you so worried about?"

She knew the answer: what if Dipper was avoiding her? Maybe he hadn't outright said anything the night before, but after thinking about it he decided that he didn't want to be the brother of a winged person from another dimension and was staying as far away from her as he could. Maybe he—

"Morning, kid." Entering the kitchen, Mabel was greeted by Stan and the smell of eggs and bacon. He gave her a small frown. "Geez, what's eatin' you? It's too early in the morning to look that stressed."

Mabel hastily straightened her features. "Um, nothing. Have you seen Dipper?"

"Di—oh, right, that's your nickname for Mason." Stan scraped the scrambled eggs out of the pan and onto a plate. "He left a note saying he was going to the library."

Mabel thought her heart might sink to her shoes, and her wings — now comfortably out in the open — drooped. Maybe Dipper really was avoiding her.

"Hey, buck up, kiddo." Stan set a plate down at the table and turned back to his bacon. "He goes there a lot, especially when he needs time to think. And I'd say that after last night, the kid'll need quite a bit of time."

Mabel bit her lip. She hoped that was all it was, but—

Stan pointed at one of the chairs. "Sit down and eat something, why don't you? He'll be back soon." He hesitated, glancing at Mabel's wings. "Uh, do you need a stool or something?"

Despite herself, Mabel felt the urge to laugh. "No, I'll be alright," she said, sitting down near the edge of the chair and leaning forward, wrapping her wings partially around her as Stan set down a plate of eggs and bacon. "Thanks!"

Stan turned back to the stove, but Mabel saw him glancing back at her wings. "Can't believe you managed to fit those things under a sweater."

"It wasn't very comfortable," Mabel admitted. "But they're pretty flexible." To demonstrate, she gave the wings a couple small flaps and stretched them out and then back towards her body.

"And Mason used to have a pair of wings just like that," Stan said under his breath.

Mabel was unsure whether he was talking to her or to himself, but she said, "Well, not totally like mine. His were different colors—red and blue and yellow instead of purple."

Stan looked at her with a slightly surprised expression, and Mabel realized he must have been talking to himself. Resisting the urge to blush, she instead shoved a large forkful of eggs into her mouth.