Unedited.

Mabel is the first one to notice him.

Grunkle Ford and Grunkle Stan had already disappeared back into the Shack, talking hushed, excited tones as they started spinning out ideas for a Stan-o-War II and the voyage of exploration and adventure they'd promised each other decades earlier.

Dipper and Soos are supposedly helping her gather up the last bits of trash and debris from their birthday party but had gotten lost in enraptured discussion of Soos's new future as Mr. Mystery. Vaguely, Mabel knows that the boys would disappear into the museum soon to start planning what exhibits needed replacing and what new attractions they could build.

As the last of the crowd filtered away, he stayed. Like her, he was picking up all the plastic plates and cups and napkins that had ended up on the ground and kicked around during the wonderful 13th birthday celebration the town had thrown for them. He was moving a bit faster than she was. He'd already filled up a big black trash bag all on his own.

Dropping down to sit on the porch, Mabel stared, trying to decide who and what he was - and if she needed to scream for Dipper, for her Grunkles, to come back to fight him with her.

He didn't look strange or weird. Blond hair and tired blue eyes that watched the world from behind half-moon glasses. Young, despite the old-fashioned looking glasses. T-shirt, jeans, baseball cap twisted backwards on his head. A few bandages on his arms and hands, a careful way of moving that suggested bruises of all sorts hiding under his clothes.

He was just like everyone else. Battered but unbroken.

He wasn't from Gravity Falls.

He'd caught her eye, distantly, during the party. She couldn't help but notice a pretty face. (And he was very pretty. As handsome as Sev'ral Timez.) He'd fit in perfectly with the inhabitants of Gravity Falls, standing shoulder to shoulder with humans and Manotaurs alike, happy and celebrating and laughing.

No one else had thought him strange. Had thought to ask him where he came from and why he was there.

Quashing a flicker of fear in her belly, Mabel jumped back up to her feet, plastered on her cheeriest expression, and charged forward. She'd get no answers if she didn't ask any questions.

"Hi, I'm Mabel! Thank you for coming to our birthday party! I can't believe so many people came just for us! It was amazing! Who are you? How old are you? Are you originally from Gravity Falls? How did you hurt your hands and arms? What are your plans for after the summer?"

The stranger stared for a moment, blinking as so many did at the veritable wall of text that made up Mabel's introductions. Then, he threw his head back and let out a roar of laughter. Well worn laugh lines suddenly appeared on his face and some of the tension tangled up inside her relaxed. The sound of his laughter was bright and warm. It rolled effortlessly through the clearing, the sound bouncing off the newly repaired Shack and rolled into the surrounding woods. There was a feeling of power and energy in that laughter, enough to make the skin on her arms and the back of her neck stand on end as it rolled through the area, but for some reason it didn't make her feel the slightest bit afraid.

"Alfred F. Jones." The stranger was chuckling still even as he spoke. "I'm glad you had the party," he continued. "You both deserve it."

Several sets of footsteps suddenly sounded within the house, getting louder as they thundered closer.

Still smiling, Alfred F. Jones set down the trash he'd been holding and stepped back, carefully raising his battered hands into the air, palms facing out. The smile remained on his face even as Grunkle Ford charged out the door, laser pistol gripped tightly in his hands as he leapt in front of Mabel. Then Grunkle Stan was there, one hand grabbing her shoulder and dragging her back, away from the stranger, gold glittering on his fists. Finally, Dipper and Soos tore around the side of the building, eyes wide and clearly spooked.

"Uh, I come in peace?"

Ford wanted to scream. To howl and snarl as he ripped this new threat to his family apart piece by piece. It had been foolish of him to think it was over. That he would be allowed to relax and find peace.

He'd been riding a delirious high for several hours, reveling in how much Stanley had recovered (not completely, not like they'd told the town, but enough to give them all peace), in the happy smiles of Dipper and Mabel as they blew out the candles on their cake and chatted with their friends. The palpable excitement in the air as Stanley dubbed Soos the new Mr. Mystery. And best of all, the eagerness and excitement on his brother's face when he asked him to join him on the sailing quest they'd talked about since they were children.

The sudden swell of power that had swept over him, over them, had been like shower in the icy waters of Dimension 92"]. Gone too quick for him to judge it properly but lingering just enough to know without any uncertainty that whatever, whoever, it came from was very, very powerful. And very, very close.

Easily computing where the epicenter of that power came from, he turned and dove back outside, comforted slightly by Stanley's presence at his back.

There was a stranger in front of the house.

Mabel was standing right next to it.

Ford leapt forward, the butt of his laser pistol biting into his hand as he planted himself between Mabel and the stranger. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Stan pull Mabel further away.

Good.

Turning his full attention to the stranger, Ford gave him a quick once-over. Human-looking, young adult, likely male, blond hair, glasses. He'd taken a few short steps backwards, putting some distance between them and now stood still, hands raised and still in surrender. No tension in his body, no bulges that suggested concealed weapons.

A small smile on his face and warm eyes that seemed to whisper It's okay and I understand, I'm not judging you for this.

Almost against his will, Ford could feel his heart rate slowing and the knotted mess of DangerFearDefendAttackProtectThreat start to unravel in his gut.

"Uh, I come in peace?"

One hand still on Mabel's shoulder, holding her safely behind him, Stan slowly lowered the arm and clenched fist he'd been holding in the air and slipped his brass knuckles back into his pants pocket.

"Ford," he stated, "relax. I don't think this guy's here to pick a fight."

His brother didn't even twitch. Nor did the stranger. Stan had the impression that the newcomer would be perfectly happy standing there, hands in the air, for as long as it took for Ford to calm down.

He tried again. "Ford!" Of course he didn't move. Rolling his eyes, Stan stepped up next to his brother. "Back off, Poindexter," he growled. Then, making sure his movement was within Ford's line of sight, he reached out and placed his hand on weapon pointed at the stranger so he could push it down.

Once he'd finally gotten Ford to lower the deadly pistol, Stan jabbed a blunt finger at the stranger. "You, don't go anywhere."

The stranger flashed him a wide, beaming smile and a double thumbs-up before hooking thumbs on the belt loops of his jeans.

"Stanley, he's dangerous," Ford hissed, eyes locked onto the stranger. The gun twitched slightly, as though his brother was suppressing the urge to aim it at the newcomer once more.

"So are we," Stan countered. "But we're not going to get anywhere with you pointing that thing in his face." He sighed softly. It figured the Pines family couldn't have one day, a single day, go by without some kind of drama. "Sixer, this guy doesn't want to hurt us."

Ford snorted, clearly disbelieving.

"This is what I do, Ford," Stan growled, "what I've been doing for most of my life. I read people. And what I'm seeing right now is someone who wants to talk, not someone who wants to pick a fight."

The stranger nodded, still smiling, still cheery and chipper.

"His name's Alfred!" Mabel scurried around the brothers until she was next to Ford. Unhesitating, she grabbed his free hand with both of her's. "Alfred F. Jones! What's the F stand for?" she added, turning to the stranger.

"Franklin," Alfred the stranger answered. "But it's been other things. Frank, Freedom, Fu- uh … all sorts of things."

"And this is my great uncle Stanford and his brother Stanley." Tugging on Ford's hand, Mabel gave him a pointed look. "Say 'Hi', Grunkle Ford," she ordered.

Grudgingly, Ford finally holstered his weapon. A soft collective sigh of relief sounded in the clearing.

Stan stepped up, briefly bumping his brother's shoulder with his. "What brings you 'round here?" he asked. "You're not from Gravity Falls." He paused for a moment. "Not doing tours today, either."

"Oh, I know," Alfred F. Jones replied. He looked past them for a moment, eyes moving across the renovated Mystery Shack behind them. "I'm actually here about the, uh, Weirdmageddon."

"About what? No idea what you're talking about," Stan replied, the lie coming easily to his lips. He didn't need Mayor Cutebiker's new "New Mind All That" act to know talking about the recent apocalypse with outsiders as a bad idea.

Reaching up to rub the back of his neck, Jones chewed on his lower lip for a moment, eyes shifting back from the Shack to them. After a long moment of obvious inner conflict, he sighed and stepped forward, extending his hand for a handshake. "Let me start over," he said, a serious expression crossing his face. "My name is the United States of America."