They never even reached the border.

Gravity Falls was a small town, and in small towns news traveled fast, especially if it was tragic.

So it was no surprise that mere hours after the two Pines twins had boarded that bus to travel back to California, and she was already back in the Shack watching as the two Stans packed their bags to start their adventure together, that the phone at the counter rang at the exact same second the door was thrown open and her own phone in her back pocket buzzed.

Ford was the first to look up at the sudden intrusion of the light-hearted scene, still chuckling at his brother's antics, and the second his eyes connected with the Sheriff's, the laughter stopped.

Stan's stopped seconds afterwards, and something dark fell across her chest as it tightened with every silent second.

The thing that broke the silence marked the last time any of them would smile in almost four years.

"There's been an accident."

The air is thick and dark, as if someone draped a shadow over the scene, and the silence threatens to choke the life out of everyone present.

The first words to leave Sheriff Blubb's mouth since he uttered that single phrase is simple. It's whispered, it's cracked, and it's final, and it breaks them to the core.

"I'm so sorry."

Something passes over them, and whatever it is brings Stan to his knees, and leaves him crumpling to the floor and exhaling out a hollow laugh, something sad and lonely and lifeless and it scares her, almost as much as Ford bellowing out a curse so loud it shakes her very soul.

Something wet splashes onto her collarbone and she doesn't realize it until her back hits the wall and she's sliding down, wrapping her arms around herself, as if they could protect her from the scene before her, the words being uttered, words whispered about death, quick, coma, one left.

Fingers go to dig into her scalp but are stopped by fabric and the first sob that tears itself from her throat is from the realization of what's on her head. She pulls it off with shaking fingers as her vision blurs and all she can see is white and blue, but it's enough.

With a whimper that rises into a scream, she breaks.

There's been an accident, and one is dead, and the other is in surgery, in an induced coma, but she's afraid to ask which one applies to which twin, because neither scenario is comforting.

Is it Mabel, the quirky, lovable little girl that Wendy wishes was her little sister? Is it her, the one who she danced with by the counter all that time ago, that feels like centuries but in reality was only weeks? Is it her, the one with the soft sweaters and an even softer heart? The one who tore herself in two to try in an effort to save her family? Is it her, the one who held the key to their success all along?

Or is it Dipper, the nerdy, dorky little kid who loves her? Is it Mason, the one with the journals and the thirst for knowledge and the desire to protect those he loves, whether or not they deserve it? Is it him, the one with the birthmark, who fought and conquered by her side as a demon ruled over everything? Is it her dork, the one who confessed his love for her over what he thought was her dead body, who risked life and limb to save his twin sister, despite the circumstance?

She doesn't know which one is worse, but no matter the answer, she knows that nothing will ever be the same.

Because that girl they met at the beginning of the summer, the emotionless, stereotypical teenager who didn't care about anything except herself, is now on the floor sobbing as red and blue flash outside the windows as she tries to imagine a world without the two that changed it.

But she can't.

They were given a choice. There are two beds at the hospital, one in the ICU and hanging onto life by a thread, and other one already downstairs on a metal one inside a box. One breathing, one not. One warm, one already cold.

None of them asked which was which. None of them wanted to know.

Stan's eyes are red and his sobs are muffled by Ford's coat, but even the thick material can't muffle his whimpers that sound so similar to the nickname he called them as he ruffled their hair and sent them onto the bus.

"Kids."

Ford is staring ahead, one hand squeezing his twin's shoulder, but the other one is on his knee, gripping it so tightly his knuckles are solid white. There's no trace of emotion on his face, and it scares her even more than Stan.

She wasn't there when Ford was pulled from the alternate dimension, when Mabel had to choose between trusting her twin brother or her beloved Grunkle. She wasn't there when Dipper's mind and body was taken over by Bill against his will, she wasn't there when Mabel was abducted and locked within her own mind.

But she's here now. And somehow, this hurts worse.

In all the months she's worked for Stan, the amount of emotion on his face is enough to break her all over again, and no matter how hard she bites her lip, copper floods her mouth and tears wash over her eyes.

A needed distraction, green eyes find the world outside, so different than that of an hour before.

It's barely one o'clock, and already things are shifting. Things are changing all around them, and as the forest around them breaks into downtown, she can see just how things are going to be different.

Gravity Falls is a small town, and word travels fast in small towns.

She chooses downstairs.

It's morbid and wrong and the very idea of having to watch them pull back that stark white sheet in this cold, bright room makes her shiver. The knowledge that under this sheet lies one of her best friends, one that will never again smile or jump around or laugh hurts more than anything, more than the memory of losing her mother, but she has to do it.

Stan and Ford picked the upstairs room without hesitation after a scare with whoever was on the operation table flat lining. Whoever was up there, they were fighting for their life, and the fact she's down here instead of up there really hits her.

Wrapping her arms around her chest, smashing that blue and white baseball cap to her heart, she prays this is just a misunderstanding. That she'll wake up any moment in her own bed, and her father will yell she's got a letter, and she'll run downstairs and grab it.

With everything she has left she prays that she'll skip every other step and lock her door and sit on her bed and open the letter to see the familiar scribbling of her two favorite Pine twins.

Before she realizes, she's nodding to the EM across from her, whose nametag reads Mandy, and as the sheet is lifted, her heart is crushed. Brown hair is the first thing that's shown, but it doesn't matter because both have that color, the soft chestnut color that is springy and curly at the ends.

She only remembers bits and pieces after that. She was cold, so cold, so lost, so lonely, so alone, and the only thing registering is her knees hitting the floor as she crumples under the weight of the realization that her best friend is dead.

Pain is shooting from her legs as they crumple unnaturally under her, but for once, it's ignored.

Maybe she throws up. Maybe she curses, maybe she stays silent, maybe her screams rattle the windows. Maybe this is a dream, maybe it's reality, maybe this is what her life's been leading up to.

All she knows is there's a nurse calling for help, she's struggling for air, drowning on land, alone in a bright, cold room watching as her world shatters and there's a thirteen year old boy with a constellation-shaped birthmark on his forehead laying cold and unresponsive on the table before her while upstairs his sister struggles to live.

A/N: short, I know, and I apologize, I promise a longer update on Saturday. I figured a little peek into that day from a different perspective might be refreshing, but what do I know. I went through this thing at least fur different times and although something seemed off to me, I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was.

Thank you to ImpossibleJedi4, and i'll see y'all on Saturday!

-a.m