Hello, everyone. This fanfic was only supposed to be around 1,500 words, but it turned out to be 5,000 words and took me the better part of the day, but it is much better than it would've been as a shorter one shot.

Hope all of you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Gravity Falls in any way, shape, or form (if I did, I wouldn't be writing on this website, would I? I'd just make it canon, but as I do not own the wonderful TV show that is Gravity Falls, I do not have the power to do that).

"Dipper, I cannot afford to fix the shack every other week because you keep chasing fairy tales!" Stan yelled, gesturing to the destroyed remains of the shack.

Dipper had gone monster hunting again, and as he did more often than not, he led the monsters right back to the shack, where they punched a hole in the wall, destroyed the front desk, and shattered tons of merchandise and cracked shelves in half. Basically hundreds of dollars worth of damage.

"They're not fairy tales, and I'm sorry I led them back here, but-" Dipper began.

"I don't want to hear it," Stan interrupted.

"Grunkle Stan-"

"No! Clean all this up. You'll be working at the shack every day until you can pay off everything you broke."

"I could be working here all summer!" Dipper complained.

"Tough turkeys, kid! Start cleaning up," Stan commanded.

Dipper rolled his eyes as he began sweeping up the broken pieces of wood littering the floor, staring at the bright straps of colors that were tattered T-shirts and the reflective glass of broken snow globes. Cleaning up this mess could take him all day!

So much dust had been kicked up by the monsters that it created a cloud of dust every time Dipper moved the broom. It was scattered across his clothes and skin; you could see the dirt and grime that was kicked up staining his face, the dust making him sneeze and cough.

He inhaled the dust, and he coughed, wildly, as it collected inside his lungs, causing him to sputter.

Nothing seemed strange at first, but the more Dipper breathed in the dust, the harder it became to breathe. At first, he thought the dust was just irritating him, but then, a realization crossed his mind that would have sent him into a panic if his struggle to breathe wasn't so exhausting.

Dipper Pines was allergic to dust.

Dipper hadn't had an asthma attack in months; his parents had thought he'd 'grown out of it.' Sure, Dipper had small flare ups, but never an attack; in fact, he hadn't even packed his inhaler when they left for Gravity Falls. That's how confident he was in the fact that his asthma was gone.

Looks like he'd been wrong.

"Grunkle Stan?" he called, and his great uncle entered the room.

"Kid, I told you not to disturb me until this place was spotless!" Stan snapped, looking around at the horrible mess that had barely begun to be cleaned up.

"But-"

"No, Dipper. Keep cleaning," Stan ordered, firmly, and Dipper went back to cleaning. After all, the attack couldn't be that bad, could it?

It could.

Dipper's chest tightened, and a soft wheeze brushed through his lips. He felt dizzy and weak and unbearably tired. It felt like a hand was wrapped around his throat, squeezing it and suffocating him, while a very heavy person sat on his chest. It hurt so much, and when the young boy exhaled, a long whistling sound echoed in the empty shop. Each breath strained his throat, painfully.

The boy tried to cry out for help, but all that escaped his lips were a series of rasps, coughs, and high pitched chirps. The child leaned against the wall, his palm pressed flat upon it, pressing his whole weight on the wood. It was the only thing keeping him standing.

"Grunkle… Stan…" he managed before the lack of oxygen finally dragged him down into unconsciousness. The broom clattered to the floor, and the twelve year old toppled over, his hand smacking uselessly against the front desk (what was left of it, anyway) in an effort to catch himself. The boy was unconscious before he hit the floor.

Meanwhile, in the next room, Stan glanced up at a loud clatter, followed by a thump. He sighed, thinking Dipper had broken something else, and stormed into the gift shop.

"Dipper, what-" Stan abruptly stopped speaking as he was faced with an empty shop. "Dipper?" he called.

That kid better not have left before he finished cleaning up, Stan thought, but before he could go on grumbling, a soft, breathy whistle sounded, and Stan followed the sound to the floor beside the desk.

Stan's heart almost stopped.

"Dipper!" he cried.

His great nephew was lying on the dusty, debris littered floor, his eyes closed and at first, motionless. Chirps and whistles and wheezes were all too loud in the otherwise silent shop, and Stan watched in horror as the boy started to move: clenching his fists, tossing his head back, and uselessly twisting his body to try and make his fight to breathe easier.

"Dipper!" the old man repeated, kneeling beside the boy. He uncurled Dipper's fist, clenching the boy's hand in his own as he leaned the boy up, propping Dipper against his elbow, almost like how he held him when he used to feed Dipper as a newborn baby. He looked at his nephew's pale, sweaty face, and his heart rate spiked at seeing his nephew like this.

"Dipper!" he shouted. "Kid, open your eyes. Tell me what's wrong. Please, Dipper."

As if by some miracle, Dipper found the strength to pry his eyes open, and they met Stan's, glazed over with an almost disconnected gaze, like he couldn't comprehend what was going on around him.

"Gr-unkle Sss…an," Dipper slurred, too weak and out of breath to form complete words. He trailed off, sputtering, before continuing. "I-I ca-an't breathe," he muttered, his voice breaking as they were interrupted by numerous wheezes and coughs.

"Do you know why?" Stan asked as he moved one arm under Dipper's knees while keeping the other around his shoulders.

"Asthma…"Dipper murmured.

Stan vaguely wondered why the kid wouldn't tell him he had asthma before this, but then he wondered why the parents hadn't informed him. Stan hadn't noticed until now, but he knew nothing about either of the kids' medical history, and they'd been placed in his care for the entire summer. He didn't know their allergies or any medical conditions, and he hadn't thought to ask. Obviously, the parents hadn't thought to tell him either.

Stan picked Dipper up with one arm under his knees and the other behind his shoulders as he sprinted out the door and laid his nephew in the back seat of his car. Dipper continued wheezing and coughing and whimpering, and each awful sound was like another knife in Stan's heart and another nail in Dipper's coffin.

"Stay with me, kid!" he shouted as Dipper's face went from a snow white, pasty color to an ashen gray.

"Stan," he whimpered.

"Don't try to speak, kiddo. Just focus on breathing, okay?"

Dipper's wheezes reached a brutally loud volume, and he started to cry in absolute terror.

"Dipper," Stan began. "I know you're scared. I can't even imagine what you're going through, but if you calm down, it will be easier to breathe."

Dipper continued to have a look of panic upon his face.

"Dipper, I'm going to start counting, okay? When I say one, you breathe in. When I say two, you exhale until I say three. We'll keep doing that, okay?"

He saw Dipper nod in the mirror above his head, and Stan hit the accelerator, peeling out of the driveway and into the street. He weaved between a few cars (although there weren't too many on the back roads); he hadn't driven this fast since he visited Mexico, which meant he was driving at over a hundred miles an hour.

"One," Stan said. He heard Dipper wheeze painfully as he drew in a breath.

Someone honked as Stan abruptly cut them off, speeding out onto the main road.

"Two," Stan said as calmly as he possibly could, given their current situation. A loud whistle sounded as Dipper exhaled, not stopping until Stan stated, "Three."

Gravity Falls didn't have its own hospital (I know, it was stupid, but Stan never thought he'd need a hospital- they cost too much). The town had a doctor, but Stan didn't want to waste time if the doctor didn't have the equipment he would need, so that meant speeding into the next town and to the hospital there.

Sirens screamed as Stan raced through the streets, cutting off other drivers and whirling into the wrong lane. Even when those two idiot officers- Blubs and Derland- started yelling for him to stop, Stan didn't.

"Four," Stan muttered.

His phone buzzed, and Stan stared at the caller ID. It was one of the officers, Sheriff Blubs.

Stan answered the phone, and Blubs sputtered, surprised the conman had even answered the phone. "Stanford Pines, what are you doing? You're going to kill someone!"

"My nephew needs to get to the hospital," Stan spat. "Five," he said in a calmer voice over his shoulder, listening to Dipper wheeze as he breathed in. "If Gravity Falls had its own hospital, we wouldn't be dealing with this situation."

Before Blubs could respond, Stan hit the accelerator again, roaring past the Now Leaving Gravity Falls! Come Again Soon! sign while the police finally stopped chasing him. Whether it was because he'd left the town or because of what he'd said about Dipper, he didn't know, but he assumed it was a mixture of the two.

The streets grew busier as he rushed through the much larger, much more populated town.

Stan muttered a cuss word or two before finally stopping the car, nearly hitting the bumper of the vehicle in front of him.

There was too much traffic; it would take at least half an hour to get to the hospital, and an ambulance wouldn't do much better in these bustling streets, packed with cars from end to end.

Stan opened his door before pulling open the one in the back and lifting Dipper in his arms. This time, he carried the boy with Dipper's legs wrapped around his waist, and his arms looped around Stan's neck, like you would carry a toddler. It would be much easier to travel with Dipper in this position than carrying the child bridal style.

"Stan," Dipper rasped. "'M scared."

"I know, Dipper. Keep breathing, and I'll keep counting, okay? Six."

Dipper exhaled, and Stan took off in a sprint through the streets. People yelled and honked at him, but he ignored all sound except for the sound of his own voice and the choked sounds of Dipper's breathing.

"Seven."

Dipper inhaled.

"Eight."

Dipper exhaled, and Stan turned the corner, pushing through a crowd of people on the sidewalk. The bright red and white colors of the emergency room sign were in sight.

"Nine."

Dipper inhaled.

"Ten."

Dipper exhaled.

"Eleven."

This time, there was no sound.

"Dipper, keep breathing!"

"I c-can't," Dipper murmured.

The horrible choking sounds were all too familiar to Stan, and he knew from experience that the silence of Dipper's breathing, no longer identified with loud wheezing and dry coughing, and the weakness in Dipper's grip around his neck could only mean one thing.

Dipper was dying.

"His airways are almost completely obstructed!"

"Dipper, please keep breathing!" Stan sobbed as Dipper's grip went slack around his neck. Unconsciousness was close to claiming him.

"We need to take him now! Page Dr. Carter, and tell him we have a patient with severe asthma."

"Dipper! Stay with me, kid!"

"Sir, you'll need to stay here!"

"Stay with me, kid!" Stan repeated as he rushed into the automatic doors at the hospital. "Help me, please! My nephew needs help!"

Nurses and doctors rushed to help, laying Dipper on a gurney.

"What have we got here?" the nurse asked.

"He has asthma," Stan supplied.

"His airways are almost completely obstructed," the nurse stated, and Stan's heart skipped a beat at the familiar words.

"We need to take now," the nurse ordered as they began rolling the gurney down the hall.

Stan tried to follow, but as he expected, another nurse pressed a hand against his chest to gently push him back.

"Sir, you'll need to stay here," she informed him.

"He's my nephew!"

"He's my brother, my twin! I need to stay with him!"

"I'm sorry, sir. You need to stay here."

"I'm sorry, sir, but you need to stay here until we have it under control."

Dipper disappeared behind two swinging doors, and Stan called after him.

"Dipper! DIPPER!" he cried, desperately.

"Ford! FORD!"

It took Stan half an hour to find the strength to call Mabel.

He dialed the number of Grenda's mother on the pay phone in the hall and listened to the ring before Grenda's mother answered.

"Hello?" the woman's dainty voice murmured (the exact opposite of her daughter's voice).

"Yes, this is Stan Pines. Can you put Mabel on the phone, please?"

"Of course, Mr. Pines. Mabel, dear, your uncle is on the phone."

A few moments of silence before Mabel's excited voice spoke into the phone.

"Grunkle Stan, what's up?"

"Mabel, Dipper's in the hospital," Stan blurted. He'd meant to ease into that a little more, but he was never one to beat around the bush.

"What?" she sputtered.

"He had an asthma attack. I'm going to send Soos to come get you, okay? Stay at Grenda's until he gets there, and he'll drive you to the hospital."

"Is Dipper going to be okay?" Mabel asked.

"Of course, Mabel. You'll get to see for yourself when you get here," Stan assured her before hanging up and dialing Soos's number.

"Hello?" the handy man said.

"It's Mr. Pines," Stan stated. "Okay, Soos, Dipper had a severe asthma attack, and I had to take him to the hospital."

"What-"

"Soos, you'll get the whole story when you get here. I'm going to call Wendy to look after the shack. Could you drive to Grenda's, get Mabel, and drive her here?"

"Of course. I'll be there as soon as possible."

"Thanks, Soos," Stan stated before hanging up and calling Wendy.

"'This is Wendy. 'Sup?" she stated.

"Wendy, I need you to look after the shack."

"But I'm not due to come into work for another hour."

"I know, but Dipper's in the hospital."

"Why?" Wendy demanded, panic ringing in her voice.

"He had an asthma attack. Soos is bringing Mabel, so I need you to look after the shack. I'll pay you overtime."

"No, Mr. Pines. I'll do this for free, and don't get used to hearing that, by the way. Tell Dipper I hope he feels better."

"I will. Thanks, Wendy," Stan said.

Stan hung up and stared at his shoes for a few minutes before returning to the waiting room to wait for an update on Dipper's condition.

This scenery, this situation… it was all too familiar. It was so familiar, it hurt.

"Stanley," a small, almost frightened, voice whimpered.

Stan rolled over to blink at Ford in the darkness of their shared bedroom, too tired to register the terrified expression upon his twin's face.

"Ford, go back to bed. It's the middle of the night!"

"Stanley…" Ford mumbled.

"Goodnight, Ford," Stan muttered, rolling back over to face the wall and trying to return to slumber.

"Stanley, I can't breathe…"

Stan shook himself out of the memories when he heard someone speak loudly. It was a doctor.

"Family of Dipper Pines?"

Stan stood and crossed the waiting room, walking past anxious spouses, bored children, frightened friends, petrified parents, and so many more people until he reached the doctor.

"Your nephew is going to be fine; we'd like to keep him overnight for observation. He's still unconscious and should wake up within the next few hours. You can see him now."

Stan nodded, muttering his thanks, and followed the doctor to room 109.

Dipper looked so small lying in that hospital bed. He was still pale and hooked up to humorous machines; tubes were stuck in his arms, and an oxygen mask had been placed over his face.

"The oxygen mask is just to be safe," the doctor informed him. "As for the tubes and IV, get a nurse if he accidentally pulls one out."

Stan nodded, and the doctor vanished down the hall.

Stan eased his body, aching from the run and the hard hospital chairs, into a chair at Dipper's bed side, gazing at his nephew's sleeping face. Some people can't tell the difference between unconscious and sleeping just by looking at someone, but Stan could. When he was sleeping, Dipper looked peaceful. When he was unconscious, he looked… he looked like he wasn't there. Not like he was dead, exactly, but like his soul had retreated to the back of his mind, leaving a motionless, pale body to lie in the bed or on the floor or wherever.

He was definitely sleeping now, and Stan was thankful for that.

"You know," Stan said to the sleeping boy, "You may be surprised, but I have been in this situation before."

Dipper (obviously) didn't respond or even appear to have heard Stan.

"My brother… my twin… Ford. He had asthma, just like you. I remember, um, Ford once told me that it was hereditary, and he got it from our grandmother. I guess you wound up getting it from her, too.

"Anyway, one night… it couldn't have been earlier than two in the morning when Ford woke me up. We were a little older than you and Mabel, almost thirteen. He woke me up, and I was irritated and tired. I told him to go back to bed, and then, he said… Stanley, I can't breathe. That woke me up real quick.

"Ford looked a lot like you did earlier today. Dad was working late, and I had no idea where Mom was, so thirteen year old me, who couldn't even drive, threw him in the car and drove to the hospital. It was a miracle I didn't crash the car.

"I got Ford to the hospital, and he was okay. But when I saw you today, trying to breathe… it reminded me so much of what happened with Ford.

"Dipper, I already lost my twin almost thirty years ago because of my own stupidity. I don't know what I would do if I lost you, too, or if I lost Mabel, for that matter."

Stan rubbed his fingers over his eyebrow before he looked up as the door burst open.

"Dipper!" Mabel cried, and Stan gently shushed her.

"How did you two get here so fast?" He asked.

"We drove like a cheetah runs!" Mabel stated, dramatically.

"Oh, and if any police come asking, Mabel and I were at the shack all day," Soos added, making Stan laugh.

"I see you've picked up a few tricks from me," Stan smirked.

Mabel nodded. "Of course. How's Dipper?"

"He's doing fine," Stan answered. "He's sleeping right now."

Mabel nodded and took a seat beside her brother's bed.

"Hey, Dip Dip," she muttered, holding his hand. "I'm here now, and I promise you… I'm not going anywhere."

Stan is ninety-nine percent positive Dipper smiled in his sleep, and Stan couldn't fight down the grin that appeared on his own face.

"So then Grenda… giving… pillow… make… and-"

Dipper came around slowly, and he'd barely pried his eyes open the tiniest amount before he clenched them closed again. That light was way too bright!

A very quiet groan made it past his lips.

Silence reigned for a few moments.

And then…

"Dipper? Dip Dip?" Mabel muttered.

"Come on, Duckling," a familiar voice added. "You can do it, Ace."

Dipper rolled his shoulders and muttered. "No. Let me sleep; let me sleep forever."

"Dipper!" Mabel yelled so loudly, Dipper cried out, and arms wrapped around him.

"Wait," Dipper suddenly realized something. "Did you just call me Duckling?" he asked his Grunkle Stan. "And Ace?"

Stan laughed. "You loved Duckling when you were a baby and Ace when you still went by Mason."

"But why break out the nicknames? And… am I in a hospital?"

And then, it all came rushing back. The asthma attack, counting, yelling. He vaguely remembered tears hitting his face at some point.

Did that mean Grunkle Stan had actually cried?

"Oh, right," Dipper mumbled. "The asthma attack."

"Mason Lucas Pines!" Mabel yelled.

Dipper blinked. "Mabel Lucy Pines," he returned.

"Oh, don't joke around with me. Why didn't you pack your inhaler?"

"I haven't had an attack in months. I-"

"No. Did you pack anything medical? A first aid kit, allergy medicine, anything?"

"No," Dipper replied.

"What about your stomach medicine? I bet you didn't pack that either. What if you had another flare up?"

"Stomach medicine?" Stan asked, confused.

"Yeah, Dipper used to have a stomach condition (well, technically, he still does) that caused almost nonstop vomiting, which caused dehydration, exhaustion, and sometimes it got so bad we had to take him to the hospital. Now, Dipper, did you pack that?"

"No…"

"Dipper… Dipper, we could've lost you."

"I'm sorry, Mabel," Dipper murmured, and the twins embraced.

Stan exited the room and leaned against the wall, Soos joining him moments later.

"That's weird," Stan muttered.

"What is?" Soos questioned.

"Their parents didn't tell me any of this. Asthma, stomach conditions, allergies… I don't even know if Mabel has anything, and before today, I had no idea Dipper had any medical conditions. They trusted me to take care of their kids and didn't even give me their medical histories?"

"Maybe you could ask them about it," Soos said. "Have you called them?"

"Yes," Stan replied. "Three times. They haven't picked up."

Soos sighed. "I'd like to talk to those parents myself."

Stan nodded. "Me, too."

Silence fell upon the boss and employee.

"Soos?"

"Yeah, Mr. Pines?"

"You dropped everything to pick Mabel up and come to the hospital. Wendy is watching the shop for free. Blubs and Derland let me drive almost three times the speed limit when I told them about Dipper. So many people love these kids. How can their own parents not pick up the phone? Thanks, Soos. For everything."

Soos chuckled. "Mr. Pines, you never need to thank me for caring."

"Grunkle Stan?" Dipper called.

Stan nodded at the handyman and reentered the room.

"When do I get out of here?" Dipper asked.

Stan laughed. "They want to keep you overnight, kiddo, but the minute they release you, we're out of here. Wait. Listen."

Stan held a hand up to his ear, and the twins frowned, listening intently.

"Hear that? That's the sound of my wallet crying," he said, dramatically.

Dipper and Mable laughed.

"Sorry, Grunkle Stan," Dipper muttered, surprising the older man. "About the shack and the hospital. I'll work at the shack for the rest of the summer, and I'll-"

"Dipper," Stan interrupted. "I don't care about the money. I'm just glad you're okay. As for the shack and the mess, I will clean up the mess, and I will give the week to relax and take care of yourself. But next week, I want you to start making models of monsters as attractions. They can be based off of things like the one you led to the shack today, or they can be totally made up, but only models. No more leading monsters back to the shack. You don't have to work all day; just spend maybe an hour a day and make me an attraction that will actually attract tourists. That will be your only punishment for what happened at the shack today. Other than that, it's forgotten."

Dipper nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Grunkle Stan."

"Who wants to play pin the tail on the Soos?" Mabel exclaimed, holding up a fake donkey tail and a blind fold.

Dipper and Stan stared at her.

"Where did you get those?" Dipper asked.

"Nonspecific answer," Mabel said, simply. "Now, do you want to play or nor?"

Dipper laughed. "Sure."

Stan smiled at his nephew and niece as they prepared for the game. Their laughter sounded like music to his ears…

Ugh. When did he become one of those parents/caretakers?

Probably the minute he realized there was a possibility of losing one or both of the kids. If that possibility ever became a reality (as it had come close to doing today), he wanted to make sure that he had shown the kids every ounce of love he had to give.

Because the truth was… Dipper and Mabel were the best things that had ever happened to him.

"Grunkle Stan," Dipper muttered.

Mabel was snoring, softly, in the chair beside his bed, and Soos had fallen asleep on another chair (although he'd fallen off of it about an hour ago and continued to sleep on the floor). Stan was sitting in his chair, skimming through a magazine.

He looked up. "Hey, Dipper. What's up?"

"Did you really mean it when you said you wouldn't know what to do if you lost me?" Dipper asked.

Stan blinked. "You were awake?"

"Barely," Dipper told him. "I didn't really hear much, but… I heard that... Did you really mean that?"

Stan smiled. "Of course I did, Dipper. If I lost you or Mabel… you kids are the best things that have ever happened to me."

Dipper stared at him.

"But if you ever tell anyone I've started going soft, you'll be cleaning the toilets for a month."

Dipper chuckled. "Thanks for saving me today."

Stan barked a laugh. "Kid, that is one thing you never have to thank me for."

And for the first time in a long time, Dipper felt like someone besides Mabel actually loved him.

"Mabel, can we talk?" Stan asked as he sat beside Mabel. Dipper was sleeping, and Soos had gone to get them some sodas, so it was just the two of them.

"About what?" Mabel asked, popping her gum.

"Your parents," Stan answered. "They didn't give me your medical history, and when I called them-"

"Let me guess," Mabel replied, her voice terrifying flat, so different from her usual exited tone. "They didn't pick up."

Stan nodded. "How'd you know?"

"Grunkle Stan, our parents love us, but they're… how do I put this? They're busy… with work, with each other, with themselves. They sent us to Gravity Falls to get us out of their hair, not because we needed a change of scenery. They didn't want kids, you see. They care about us; I know they do, but… I don't think they would mind if we hadn't been born."

Mabel was on the verge of tears. The kids hadn't mentioned their parents all summer; they hadn't said they missed home or their parents at all. They hadn't even acted home sick at any time. Now, Stan knew why, and it took all his will power not to go to California and make those parents realize the mistake they were making every time they turned their backs on their own children.

Stan pulled his great neice into a hug and allowed her to cry on his shoulder, all while swallowing his own tears at the thought that these poor kids hadn't received nearly as much love as they deserved until this summer.

They deserved so much more love than they had actually received, and it pained Stan to realize that.

A WEEK LATER

A week had passed since Dipper had been released from the hospital, and Stan is pretty sure every person in town had called to check on him, if they didn't visit him.

"Who knew you were so popular, bro-bro?" Mabel chuckled.

Stan, however, wasn't surprised. For one, Gravity Falls was the kind of town where everyone knew everyone. Also, Mabel and Dipper… were special. Stan couldn't explain it, but they had made their mark in this town. Everyone in the town (except Gideon; surprisingly, Pacifica had even asked about Dipper) cared about those kids.

One night, Dipper was sitting in the arm chair when Stan walked into the living room. Mabel was at Candy's, so the two of them were alone in the house.

"What's up, kid?" Stan asked.

"Nothing much. Just watching TV."

It was quiet for a moment.

"Stan, I have a question."

"Yeah, kid?"

"Grunkle Stan, while I was sleeping at the hospital, I-I woke up for a second. I heard you mention someone."

Stan froze.

"Grunkle Stan, who's Ford?"

Stan smiled, weakly, and messed up Dipper's hair, affectionately.

"Just an old friend, Dipper. Just an old friend…"

Thank you for reading! Please review!