Hey guys! Wow, end of semester is killing me. I wrote this when I had a free evening. I promise "Return to The Falls" will resume very soon, just have patience while I finish tearing my hair out over animation frames and line tests! I had this idea when I heard about an old myth that twins are lovers that have died and reborn together. I thought it was such a sweet idea I had to write it. I do warn you, there is death in this fic. But as always, if you like, review! It really gives me a smile, and at the moment with end of semester I could do with all the smiles I can get!

And as always, I don't own Gravity Falls.

Silence.

He hated the silence so much.

A shaft of moonlight sliced through the slats of the wooden window-grates, illuminating her skin with a soft silver. Her hands were resting beside her body, clothed in white linen cloth, and stiffening with every passing minute. He ran a gentle finger over the skin that stretched beautifully over the delicate bone structure underneath, tracing every whorl of skin and knuckle as he sketched out her hand with the tip of his index finger. Swallowing, he moved his finger from her hand and cupped her face, stroking her soft cheek with his thumb. He wanted to take in every single detail of her, remember her down to the very pores of her skin.

He wanted to beg her to say something silly.

He sniffed angrily, recalling the week that had led up this. It had started as nothing too out of the ordinary. She had been sewing in the sunlight when she had noticed, holding her splayed hands up against the warm October sun, marvelling at how dark her fingers appeared to the rest of her body. She had told him this with confused enthusiasm when he had returned from his work in the markets, showing him them with fervour as he had remarked on perhaps the sun had bleached them.

The next day, the fever came. Kissing her forehead, he had left her to tend to his market stall, leaving behind that beaming smile she did so wonderfully as he left their home. By the fifth day, the smile was all but gone, and she no longer had the strength to leave the bed. He stayed home that day with her, dabbing her face with a wet cloth and consulting with doctors and priests. Her skin, once luminescent with so much joy and taste for life, was slowly turning a sickly tar black, the marks ringed viciously with scarlet. Occasionally she would convulse, vomiting sticky red ooze from the corner of her mouth, and he would hold her in his arms as she shook violently, stroking her waist-length tresses soothingly as he prayed softly to the heavens above.

But he never thought she could be silenced.

Not like this.

He brought her face to his, remarking with horror as the coolness of her skin further confirmed that she had left this plane. Sighing deeply, he pressed his lips to her forehead, breathing in the scent of her hair longingly. He had run out of crying. He had wailed, bargained with God, and punched several things as he made a spectacle of himself. He didn't care. Why should he? She was gone. Taken from him, five years after their marriage in the village church. She was the most lively person he had ever met, her smile could light up a room effortlessly, and those eyes. He had spent many moments catching himself staring into their sienna depths, always ending with a peck on the nose and a giggle from that beautiful mouth of hers.

Breaking the kiss, he placed her body back down, gently and carefully as though she were merely asleep. He crossed their room and opened the window slats with a small grunt, breathing in the night air with slight relief. It was a frosty evening, and his breath wisped up in front of him in eddies. He looked above, to see a few stars winking back at him through the ether. He traced them with his eyes, feeling a millstone drop in his heart as he recognised the constellation as the Great Bear.

"The Big Dipper," He mouthed hoarsely. He loved the stars and night sky, and they had spent many evenings marvelling at the sky as he told her facts about the stars and constellations with fervour. She would stand beside him, shivering from cold, and would make it no secret she would get bored, and often ended up entertaining herself by making up her own constellations. He recalled that they had spent half an hour arguing that "The Bin Bag" constellation did or didn't exist. They finally agreed to rename it as the "Pig" constellation, and she had stood, smirking, hands on hips, rolling her eyes at her overly serious husband.

He picked up a small glass bottle from the bedside table and rolled it around in his hand, inspecting the label in the starlight. Something in the depths of his brain fought against the actions as he uncorked the neck with a small grunt and lifted it to his lips, allowing the bitter liquid to flood his tongue. He gagged as it ran down his throat, and he placed the bottle back onto the wooden structure with a small clink. A wedding present from his parents, he remembered with a slight smile. He crawled into the bed beside her, the sagging mattress squeaking as he snuggled close into her lifeless body, placing a gentle kiss to her exposed shoulder and wrapping his arms around her form.

"Room for another one?" He murmured into her shoulder as he felt his eyes droop wearily, flutter, and his head began to spin.

"Oh look at that," Alice gushed to her husband as he sank into the chair beside her, struggling to keep awake. "He's hugging her,"

"I'm sure it's involuntary, but that is pretty darn cute," Daniel tiredly smiled as he ran a finger over the tiny blanketed forms that snuffled in their bassinette. "Well, we've been parents to twins for thirty minutes now. Feel overwhelmed yet?"

"Just a little," She laughed as she leant back into the pillows behind her. Hospital beds were pretty terrible most of the time and this one was proving to be just as bad. However, Alice couldn't care less as she drank in every detail of their children, counting fingers and toes and stroking the wisps of hair that whorled prettily around their shell-like ears. She was already smitten. It was then she ran a thumb over the boy's forehead, and he snuffed and whined as in protest.

"Daniel? Those marks aren't going down," She stated, pointing towards the bright red blemishes that decorated his hairline.

"Hey… honey, look closely. What do they remind you of?"

"A birthmark?" She shrugged. "No! Trace them with your finger. Isn't it familiar?" Her husband moved his son's head to face her carefully and gently so she would have a better view. Alice reached out and traced the spots with interest, and gasped as it dawned on her.

"The Big Dipper!" She exclaimed with shock. "I can't believe that. It's almost a perfect match,"

"That's pretty spooky," Daniel blinked as he lifted his now fully grizzling son into his arms. "But cool. Really cool,"

Alice nodded in agreement as she lifted the other twin into her arms. This one, instead of wearing the world weary expression that her brother seemed to have been born with, was slightly heavier, healthier and was now openly awake, curiously taking in her surroundings with blue eyes that would soon turn the same chocolate brown as her father's. Her arms waved around before her as though grasping at something magical and invisible, and she couldn't help but chuckle at her daughter's already funny actions.

"This one has a real personality," She toothily grinned as she ran a gentle hand over the crown of her daughter's head. "She's going to be a handful,"

"Do you still want to call her Mabel?" Daniel leant in close as his wife nodded resolutely. "Mabel suits her. A bit old fashioned, but it seems to fit,"

"Then this one," He began, turning to the babe in his arms. His wife widened her eyes.

"No,"

"Will be called,"

"It's not happening,"

"Dipper,"

"He's not a dog, Daniel," Alice rolled her eyes. "But we did promise that we can name one each. But don't be surprised when the kids tease him. At least make it a nickname,"

Daniel poked his tongue out at this, and nodded. "Okay sweetheart, you win. We'll call him another name. But his real name is Dipper,"

"Mabel and Dipper Pines," Alice grinned. "I like that,"