Defining Bill Cipher

by Athina Blaine

A tale of hormones, sleepless nights, and overdue debts. When 19-year-old Dipper and Mabel Pines move back into the Mystery Shack after their Grunkle retires, the return of Bill Cipher threatens to upset the peace of the town. That is, until he makes a peculiar request.

11. Dipper Pines, The Get Away Driver

Dipper almost spat up his tea. "She's at the zoo?"

Bill nodded. He and Pacifica were standing across the bar where Dipper and Mabel sat. A nasty bruise and sunburn had developed on Bill, but Dipper hadn't had any time to question it.

"Specifically the San Diego Zoo," Bill said." Don't worry, I triple checked; she's definitely there."

Dipper stared into his mug, eyes narrowed. The zoo … Of course she'd be there. "Well," he continued, facing his sister, "that explains why we couldn't match any fishing companies. It's usually zoos and reserves that use green text."

"I guess it's better than her in the hands of some poacher," Mabel said, her lips twisting with distaste. "Isn't capturing animals from the wild illegal now? Don't they just breed the animals they already have?"

"Not if they're running low on breeders," Pacifica said. "The aquarium is a new addition; most of it is still under construction. It might just be cheaper to catch new animals than buy them from other zoos. But that's just speculation. First," her eyes started sparkling, "you guys need to hear how Bill figured it out; it's wicked cool." She nudged Bill with her elbow. "Go on."

Bill raked a hand through his hair, looking away. "It's nothing that special, Blondie."

"Says the guy who just solved our mystery using only one guy's name."

"I …" Bill sighed. "Sure, whatever. All I need to find someone in the Mindscape is a name or a face, alright? So I jumped into the head of that Francis kid you mentioned yesterday and combed through his memories. When I found the memory of him seeing the sea cow, I jumped into the head of whoever he saw handling her. I did that over and over until I found the person who put her in the aquarium. That's it. Like I said, it's not that—"

"Not to mention he did it all in under twenty minutes." Pacifica squirmed, giddy with excitement. "Like, I've seen a lot of cool shit in my time, but that is some really cool shit."

"Time moves differently in the Mindscape; it was closer to an hour."

Dipper quirked a brow, staring thoughtfully at Bill. He didn't think he had ever seen Bill miss the chance to brag about his inherent illustriousness over the human race. "Bill? Did I just hear you trying to be modest?"

"You brats are just too easily impressed," Bill snapped. "If you could've seen the stuff I used to be able to do …" He was almost pouting, a sight that greatly amused Dipper for some reason. "Look, just … don't crutch on the Mindscape too much, alright? It'll come back and bite all us if you do, believe me. So shut your mouth, Pine Tree, and start figuring out a way to save this cow so we can all go home."

"I'm waay ahead of you, Bill," said Mabel, browsing through her phone. She placed it upright on the table. On the screen was a map of the San Diego Zoo. "The aquarium add-on is being built between the Discovery Outpost and the Lost Forest. Only half of it is complete, so the completed half has to be where Her Majesty must be. Right—" she tapped a white block on the map "—there."

"Let me see that …" Dipper brought the phone closer to himself. All the constructions sites on the map appeared shaded and declared CLOSED in large, white text. No pedestrians, then, although we'll still need to clear out any workers or staff. Hmm. This is going to be tricky. "Okay … I think I have an idea."

Pulling his notebook out of his pocket, he flipped to a clean page and started jotting down thoughts as they flew through his head. He started crossing out certain notes and connecting others. As he did so, he felt the familiar muted excitement that came with planning something dangerous.

Mabel said, her voice hushed out of courtesy, "I hope they're treating her okay …"

Everyone was silent for a moment. Then, Pacifica cleared her throat.

"So. Bill," Pacifica said. "What all can you do in that Mindscape place anyway?"

Bill groaned, and Dipper could almost hear him roll his eye. "Why can't you just step off, Blondie?"

"What? It's cool. Can you blame me for being curious? So, you can, like, go into other people's heads, right?"

A sigh. "Sort of. Before, all I did was drag them into the Mindscape so they could see me. I can't go into their actual minds without a handshake."

"And you can see people's memories once you do?"

"Yeah."

"Can you, like, make people dream things? That's what you did before, right? You were a dream demon."

"It's not that simple. And I don't know what I can do anymore. I wasn't even supposed to be linked to the Mindscape anymore. This is all new territory."

"What about those rougarus?" Mabel asked. "You killed them, didn't you?"

Pacifica gasped. "You can kill people in the Mindscape?"

Bill made a noise of annoyance. "Yes. Technically, I guess. I can overload minds and fry it. But it's a pain in the ass to do. I don't even remember going into the Mindscape with those beasts." After a moment, he added, "I'm pretty sure I can still put people to sleep, though. That was never too difficult."

"Wow."

Just then, Dipper realized he had been staring at his notebook for the last minute without writing down anything. He sighed through his nose, and then looked up. Pacifica was staring at Bill with poorly concealed awe. Bill, for his part, tried to look surly, but Dipper recognized the smug little grin. He was clearly enjoying this. Dipper wondered if he should warn Bill from letting the praise get to his head, but decided against it. His power was, after all, an incredibly helpful tool. He deserved the positive attention.

A second later, Dipper rose to his feet. "I'm going to need a whiteboard for this. I'll call you guys when I have everything sorted, just hang tight."

He left them standing in the kitchen, thoughts racing as he tried to assemble together the perfect puzzle.

…

Dipper called everyone to the living room two hours later. He had assembled a whiteboard on an easel and a handful of notecards. The tip of his eraser was chewed off, he had a minor headache, and his hand was heavily smudged from the marker, but he was in a good mood. He beamed as the others took their place on the couch.

He cleared his throat.

"So this is what I've come up with." Stepping aside, he gestured to the whiteboard. "I call it, Operation Blubber Bust."

"Whoo!" Mabel started applauding and whistling. Pacifica smiled. Bill rolled his eye, slightly shaking his head.

Dipper held up a hand.

"It's not the best plan, and almost all of it is … highly dangerous and incredibly illegal. But it's the best I could come up with. Here are the supplies we need …"

Taking one of his notecards, he passed the supply list to Pacifica, who was nearest to him. Her eyes traveled down the page, getting steadily wider the further she got.

"Megaphone with voice modulator, walkie-talkies … a plasma cutter?" Pacifica looked back up as Bill snatched the list from her loose grip. "Dipper, what the hell?"

"Masks, wigs, baggy clothes …" Bill mumbled. "I don't get the point of all this hullabaloo, Pine Tree. Why can't Blondie just bail out the stupid manatee?"

"You can't just buy zoo animals," Mabel answered.

"And it's not like we can tell them they stole the Queen of the freaking Manatees and Merpeople," said Pacifica, "and that four people are being held hostage. They'd just laugh at us, or lock us in some kind of ward."

Mabel returned the list to Dipper. "What have you got for us, bro?"

A bout of anxiety fluttered through his stomach. "Okay … bear with me, guys. We'll start by infiltrating the construction site." He gestured to the area of the map he had marked in green. "Pacifica and I will go undercover as journalists for a local paper. We'll both need some heavy disguises. Once we're in the clear, I'll stay behind while Pacifica meets up with Mabel and Bill in the Discovery Outpost." He pointed to the sector drawn in blue.

"While Pacifica and Mabel change into some baggy clothes and masks, Bill will head into the crowd. After that, you guys will take out a gun and start—"

"What?!" said Mabel.

"Bear with me," Dipper said. "One of you will grab Bill and take him hostage. Use the voice modulator on the megaphone and order everybody out of the park—"

His words only riled them up further. "Dipper, are you crazy?" Pacifica asked as Mabel and Bill shot each other a fevered look. "Do you want the cops on our heads? A gun threat will bring them right to us! Where do you even plan to get a gun?"

"Grunkle Stan helped us buy our car on the condition we have a gun in the center console, in case of emergencies," Mabel said to Pacifica, before turning back to her brother. "But I dunno, Dip. That some serious business."

"Pine Tree, I know you have a thing for drama," Bill said, "but don't you think that's a little counterproductive? Also, hostage?"

"The guards will be cooperative if we say we have a hostage," said Dipper, eyes trained to Bill. He shrugged. "There really isn't much else for you to do." Bill frowned, looking as if he had tasted something sour. "Here are your notecards with all your steps; memorize them."

He passed Mabel and Pacifica's respective cards. As the girls flipped through them, Dipper heard Bill make a resentful grunt.

"Why don't I get any notes?"

"Bill, you're the hostage," he said. "Hostages don't need notes." Bill continued to glare, and Dipper frowned. "What? You want me to write you a monologue or something?"

"Maybe I do."

Dipper rolled his eyes, but pulled out one of the blank cards from the stack and scribbled onto it. He handed the note over to Bill.

"Step 1: Act like a Hostage," Bill read under his breath, "'Help. I am a hostage.'Oh ha ha, Pine Tree. You're really giving me a lot to work with here."

"I'm sure you can handle it," Dipper replied. Mabel turned towards her brother, eyes wide. Dipper spoke before she could say anything. "Look, I know this is a little extreme—"

"A little?" Pacifica scoffed.

"But, it's the only way to clear out the park, and especially the construction zone. Once everyone's been evacuated, all of us will head over to the aquarium and find the Queen. I'll get one of the trucks that's used to hold the saltwater and cut the top off using the plasma cutter. When I finish, I'll drive it over to where you guys are."

"Dipper, cutting a hole big enough in a steel truck is going to take you 20 minutes, at least," said Pacifica. "Are you sure we'll have that much time?"

"Security is going to be too focused on evacuating everyone. It'll give us enough time," he said with more confidence than he felt. "Especially if they know we have a hostage."

"Me," Bill said bitterly. Dipper nodded.

"Exactly. We'll use a crane to lift the Queen out of the water and into the truck. I have a route planned that'll take us directly to the beach, we dump her into the ocean, and bam! Mission accomplished."

"You say that like it's so easy," Pacifica mumbled. "We'll have the cops tailing us the entire time."

"I can outmaneuver them," Dipper said, proudly. "Like I said, I have a route planned. There's a service exit at the back of the park, near the aquarium, used specifically for transporting animals. It'll take us all the way to the highway." He waited for them to say anything, but everyone remained silent. He swallowed, the flutters of anxiety returning. "It's the best plan we've got. I told you guys before … this stuff is going to be dangerous."

"I just figured, you know," Mabel cringed, trying to summon the correct words, "we'd be doing something a bit stealthier. Do we really need to use the emergency gun?"

"Mabel, you handle a gun better than anyone I know," Dipper said, eyebrows narrowed. "You won't hurt anybody."

"I know, but …" Mabel looked down at her hands. "I dunno. It doesn't feel right to train a gun at bystanders. Can't we just … buy a squirt gun and spray paint it? No one will know, right? Especially if we have Bill as a hostage."

Well … Dipper brought a hand to his lips. He supposed it wouldn't make any real difference, and if it helped with Mabel's concentration … "Okay, we'll do that, then. Just be careful."

He held his sister's gaze for a moment. Then, she sighed.

"I'll do anything to save Manati," she said. "She's been kidnapped, and it's up to us to rescue her and get her back to her baby. If Dipper says this is our best chance, then this is our best chance."

Dipper felt a swell of confidence at his sister's words. That said, the feeling was dampened by Pacifica's reluctant expression and Bill's outright incredulity. But after a moment, Pacifica nodded.

"This isn't … the worst plan, anyway. I'm sure you'll bring us out of it, Dip."

Dipper smiled. The three of them turned to Bill, who was glaring at the table, absentmindedly rubbing his bruised jaw. He seemed to notice their staring just then, for he looked up, threading his hair. "Kid, you and your sister managed to outwit me twice before, and that was back when I was all-powerful." He looked up, and his lips twitched into a small, crooked smirk. "Saving this cow'll be no skin off your nose, I'm sure."

And for some reason, Bill's confidence in him inspired Dipper the most. He scratched his nose and looked down at his notes, wondering if he looked as pleased as he felt. "So we're all on the same page?" he continued, fighting down his smile. "Good. Because I want to do this today."

"You're joking—!"

"Bro-bro—"

"What—?!"

"Today, Pine Tree?" Bill asked over the others' protests. "Really? Is there any reason we can't do this at night, or tomorrow?"

"Security is going to be even tighter at night. It'll be a hundred times harder getting in and getting out, and anybody who sees us will get suspicious before we have time to secure ourselves. Someone will raise an alarm before we even get the truck. No, we do this today."

"We're not gonna have enough time—"

"Dipper—"

Dipper blocked out their raised protests and cries, dismantling the easel and whiteboard and sauntering out of the room. He'd already made his decision. Today was the day. He wanted those hostages from underwater released as soon as possible. Greg. Dr. Dunbar. Margaret. The unseen Adrianne. He'd get them home.

Not to mention he didn't trust the King to not take another hostage if they took too long.

Dipper was ready for this to be over.

…

It took some wheedling, but Dipper was able to convince Pacifica and Mabel to perform the operation today. Bill merely looked amused, but Dipper supposed that just made things easier. Following his strict orders, the four of them outfitted themselves in hats and sunglasses and ratty clothes before going out and making their purchases. They paid for everything in cash they withdrew from nearby ATMs.

As per Dipper's instructions, Mabel sent a bottle message detailing the skeleton of their plan and where to meet them for the exchange of the Queen. They were to bring the hostages there and let them go once the exchange was complete.

By 2 o'clock in the afternoon, they were ready.

"We'll take two different cabs," Dipper stated as he adjusted his black wig and vest. The four of them were standing outside the beach house. He and Pacifica were the most heavily disguised, with her wearing a brunette wig and a bright red blazer and pencil skirt. "Me and Pacifica and then Mabel and Bill. Remember," he turned to Mabel. She was wearing a light blouse and pants, and she had crammed all her hair into a baseball cap. "Your codename is Muscle. I'm Driver, and Pacifica is Face."

Bill made a spiteful expression while Mabel scratched her chin. She shook her head. "Nnnah, those codenames are lame. I wanna be Agent Sparrow Mu again."

Dipper flushed, made worse by Pacifica's giggle.

"I'm with Mabel on this; Agent Peacock Pi was awesome."

"Why don't I get a nickname?"

"Bill, you're the hostage," Pacifica said. "People could get tipped off if we called you by a codename."

"But I want one."

"Fine. Your nickname is 'The Hostage'."

Mabel snorted, and Dipper tried to hide his smirk. Bill glared at Pacifica and then looked at him meaningfully. Like a dog begging to be let on the couch. Ah, fuck. "Okay, fine, Bill," Dipper held up his hands, "if it means that much to you."

"It does."

"Hmmm …" Dipper brought a thumb to his lips. "You can be … Agent Vulture Beta." Bill smiled. Whatever made him happy, Dipper guessed. He supposed he owed it to him anyway. "So, we're all agreed? Dumb bird names it is?"

The three of them nodded. Pacifica glanced over her shoulder, and then stepped back.

"Our ride's here."

Dipper turned. The sight of the cab filled him with the familiar anxious flutters. It about twenty minutes, the four of them would be launching a plan to hijack a manatee. It hadn't been the craziest thing he'd ever organized (such as when he and Mabel had to rescue Waddles and Soos from an inter-dimensional detention center), but breaking the law to this extreme left him restless, regardless. He thought of the hostages and the Queen, and took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's go. Backpack, please."

Mabel picked up his backpack, which carried Pacifica's old camera, his walkie-talkie, and the plasma cutter. When Dipper grabbed it by the straps, it plummeted towards the ground and he was barely able to keep it lofted. It had almost dislocated his shoulder. "Shit! What the … Christ, this is fucking heavy …"

"You're lucky I was able to find a cutter that small," Pacifica said as Dipper pulled the straps over his shoulders. Damn. He really hoped the guys were able to work quickly, else he ran the risk of ruining his back.

The first of the cabs pulled up just then. The second one for Bill and Mabel would be along in another ten or so minutes. Sharing a meaningful glance with his sister and Bill, he piled into the cab with Pacifica, plopping his heavy backpack on the floor. They began driving away.

He sat back, forcing himself to breath steadily. Inhale ... Exhale ... It reminded him of the time Pacifica tried to teach him and Mabel yoga and proper breathing techniques. He then began wondering how Bill fared under Pacifica's tutelage. He imagined Bill attempting to contort his body into knots and then swearing loudly when he couldn't get it right.

"Something funny?"

Dipper turned towards Pacifica. He hadn't realized he'd been smiling. "Not really."

Pacifica quirked a brow but dropped it. She then sat back, taking deep, slow breaths. For the most part, she seemed composed. He had known her long enough to recognize her signs of anxiety. The fidgeting hands, the smoothing of the skirt. She said, "It's been a while since I've … done something like this. I hope I'm not too out of shape."

"You'll do fine." When she didn't seem convinced, Dipper nudged her with his elbow. "Don't worry; we're all in the same boat here. You're not alone."

She graced him with a small smile. "Thanks."

The rest of the cab ride passed in silence.

…

I can't believe ticket prices are over fifty dollars.

Pacifica shook her head in distaste as she handed over the folded bills to the employee at the park entrance. She supposed there was some kind of irony that the daughter of one of the richest families on Earth was worried about the price of zoo tickets. But things have changed since she left home. Money was finite, and most of it had already gone into her auction house.

A familiar bout of anxiety reared at the thought of her looming auction house. Oh boy. Don't think about that mess now. You need to focus.

The point was that this heist was expensive. And she wasn't happy about it. Oh well. Maybe Mabel can convince that Mermando guy to give us some jewels or something. Lord knows we'd've earned it.

Once Dipper paid for his ticket, the two of them made their way through the park. Pacifica couldn't help but readjust her sunglasses every so often, feeling as if everyone in the park was watching her. It's all in your head, Paz. She shook herself. There's no way they know who you are, or could guess that you're on your way to steal a freaking manatee. Just play it cool.

They reached the edge of the construction area, which had been fenced off to the pedestrians. She looked over towards Dipper, who had taken out his camera.

"You ready?" she asked.

He nodded.

Taking a deep, bracing breath, Pacifica led the two of them through a gap in the fences. It wasn't long before they encountered the construction workers. The workers either shot the two of them confused looks or ignored them. It wasn't until they were already halfway through the zone that they were even stopped.

"Hey, you," a burly woman called out to them.

Pacifica rehearsed the lines in her head as she approached them. Before she could say anything, Pacifica held out a hand. The woman blinked, surprised.

"Good afternoon," Pacifica said the most professional voice she could muster. The woman hesitated for a moment, and then slowly took Pacifica's hand with her own sweaty one. Gross, gross, gross. Pacifica fought down a shudder. "My name is Zoey Davis. Can I speak to the manager of this construction zone?"

"I'm the manager," said the woman. "Look, ma'am, this area has been closed off—"

"I understand, Miss …?"

"Williams."

"Miss Williams—"

"That's 'missus'; Mrs. Williams."

"I- Mrs. Williams, yes."

Pacifica took a moment to collect herself, falling back on all the years of social conditioning her parents had put her through. Extend your hand first. Shake firmly. Don't let them get a word out edgewise. Maintain eye contact. A rotten sensation constricted her chest. Breathe.

"I'm from the local editorial, Construction Weekly. We had heard about the changes the San Diego Zoo would be undergoing and wanted to conduct an examination for our next issue."

Williams' eyes had narrowed, flitting between Pacifica and Dipper. After a moment, she shook her head. "I don't know what anybody told you, but we're not supposed to let anybody in here—"

"You mean you didn't receive any memo?" Pacifica asked, feigning irritation. "We received an email that said we would be allowed temporary access to retrieve the info we needed." She held up a hand when Williams opened her mouth. "It doesn't matter. I promise we won't be too intrusive. My friend here is just going to take a few photographs and we'll be out of your hair."

"Look—"

"15 minutes, tops, and it'll be like we were never here—"

"Hey."

Pacifica froze. The manager was glaring at her with a heated, annoyed expression. "Let me finish, alright, sweetheart?" Bristling, Pacifica bit her tongue. "No, I didn't receive a memo, and I'm not about to let you go around messing with all my workers until I see it. Who approved you two being here anyway?"

Sweat had developed on Pacifica's brow that wasn't due to the harsh sunlight. She could feel Dipper's tension besides her, and her mind went into overdrive trying to plan her next move. Bob sent the email. You know Bob? What a klutz, that Bob, no wonder you didn't get the memo. There was no memo! Shit, shit, shit, shit.

The longer Pacifica was silent, the darker Williams' expression became. Just as she was about to turn away, likely to call security, Pacifica fell back onto the oldest lesson her parents taught her.

"Wait," Pacifica said, causing Williams to pause. Before she could give herself time to think, she reached into her purse and snatched up all the cash she had left. "Here." She held it out in a clenched fist and waited until Williams took it before continuing. "All he needs are some pictures."

Williams started at her, and then turned her attention to the stack of cash in her hands. She thumbed through it, eyes widening. She looked back up to Pacifica, jaw slack. "You …"

"Do we have a deal?"

She blinked, seeming to finally register what she had been implying. Glancing over at Dipper one last time, she nodded and then pocketed the cash. "Sure, lady. Those photographs are all yours."

Relief loosening her chest, Pacifica smiled. "Excellent." She looked towards Dipper. "Good luck." And she left without another word. She tried not to run, both to avoid drawing attention and because she didn't want to trip and fall and make everything worse.

That had been too close. The entire operation had almost been a bust before it got started, all because of Pacifica's rambling mouth. She had barely been able to salvage it. A familiar, creeping feeling of inadequacy swept over her, and she released a deep breath.

Tucking herself into a shadowy alcove near the information center, Pacifica pulled out her walkie-talkie. "Operation Blubber Bust is in effect. Eagle is in the nest. Where are you guys?"

A moment later, Mabel's warbled voice answered. "We're next to the bathrooms near the Lookout Point. How'd it go?"

"Not good. I almost blew it. I had to fork over about seven hundred dollars to make them let Di- Eagle in."

She heard a low whistle. "That sucks. Though I guess that's not much money to you anyway, right?"

Pacifica crinkled her nose, deciding against opening that can of worms. "I guess not. Stay put, I'm moving to your position. Over and out." She stuffed the device into her purse and began her walk towards the Lookout where Mabel and Bill were waiting for her.

…

After Pacifica left Dipper to his own devices at the construction site, Dipper tried to locate the saltwater tank trucks. He avoided scrutiny by Williams and the other workers by occasionally taking photos. He avoided chatting up the workers. He didn't want to risk anyone remembering him.

That proved a little difficult with the bright red vest and studded belt Mabel and Pacifica had picked out for him. You're a photographer in San Diego, Mabel had said after Dipper's surly reaction at the vest. It would be more conspicuous to dress conservatively.

She's right, Pacifica had said, and Dipper gritted his teeth. Maybe it would have been a better idea to put Bill in charge of disguises after all. But then again he probably would have just brought back Dipper a deer pelt …

Dipper was roused by his musings at the sound of a loud, rumbling engine. He looked over and saw a bright blue truck pulling into the site. Saltwater Eternal, was printed in large, black letters on the side. It pulled into an empty space on the far side of the site. It was carrying near 10,000 gallons of salt water. Perfect. Relief loosened his chest.

He loitered in the shadow of a wall, fiddling with his camera as he waited for the truck driver to exit his vehicle. The driver was a tall gangly man wearing a blue uniform and hat. He was whistling, and twirling bright, silver keys around his finger. Dipper's heart sped up. He needed to get those keys.

Once the driver was a decent distance away, Dipper started following him, keeping his head tucked. The driver seemed to be making a beeline for a small building placed in a far corner of the construction zone. It looked like a break room. Dipper maintained what he figured a reasonable distance, until the driver walked into the building, out of sight. Dipper picked up the pace, breaking into a sprint.

When he got to the door, he held back a groan. Next to the door handle was a keycard slot, blinking red. Dammit. Sighing, Dipper looped his camera around his neck and knocked on the door. After a moment, it opened to reveal the truck driver, eyes narrowing at the sight of Dipper. Dipper swallowed.

"H-Hello—Bonjour," Dipper said, doing his best to smile. It felt more like a grimace. "I-iz zere any chance I could 'ave a moment of your time?" He didn't know that he could do a French accent, much less why he chose to use one now.

The driver's (Dipper saw his nametag read Dave) eyebrows shot up. "Uh. Who are you, kid?"

Dipper bristled at being called 'kid'. He looks barely older than I am. Then he realized he had been asked a question, and he struggled to think up a name. "M-my name iz," Name, name, what's a good name? "… Bill. I-I am from ze magazine," he paused, struggling to remember the name Pacifica came up with, "Construction Weekly. I would appreciate it if I could ask you questions. You dr-drive truck, oui?" Dipper turned and pointed at the blue truck. Dave nodded.

"Yeah, that's me, uh, Bill. Look," Dave's expression became reluctant, "is this going to take long?"

"Not at all," Dipper said, a touch too quickly. Dave didn't seem to notice, sighing and propping up the door for Dipper. A blessed blast of cool air washed over him. "Oui, oui. Thank you, sir."

"Don't mention it, kid," Dave said.

The break room was cramped and cluttered and had a funky smell. Dipper crinkled his nose. Dave brushed passed him, walking towards a doorway that led to a room full of lockers. Dipper followed after, and Dave sighed.

"Alright, Bill. What do you wanna know?"

Dipper blinked, and then quickly swiped off his sunglasses. "R-right, uh … W-what would you say iz the most, uh, difficult part of, um, being a truck driver?"

Dave cast him a sideways look, lips twisting upwards. "I have to get up pretty early, so that sucks. How long have you been in America, Bill?"

"Uhh …" Dipper waited with baited breath as Dave trailed down the line of lockers. "Not particularly long, why?"

"Really? Your English isn't half bad. What part of France are you from?"

Dipper bit his lip, trying to keep from stuttering. "Paris."

"Paris? Your dialect sounds more southern."

"H-haha. Funny zat." Dipper's heart was pattering as Dave approached one of the lockers at the far end of the line. Locker 218. "I mean, my mother was from southern France, s-so zat's probably why."

Dave chuckled. "My girlfriend is from Rodez, you know. Where was your mother from?"

Just shut up! Dipper wanted to scream at him. Dave was twisting around his lock, making no effort to hide the combination from Dipper. "Um, I-I zink it, uh—" the inside of the locker was decorated with pictures of Dave and a brunette woman, "—maybe it started with an 'A'? I really don't remember—" then he reached into his pocket, depositing a granola bar, his wallet, and the silver keys. Dave looked over to him as he closed the locker door.

"Something the matter, Bill?" he asked as he reapplied the lock. Dipper sighed, hoping beyond hope that the rest of the day proceeded this smoothly.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. He grinned. "I, um. I just remembered zat I 'ave somewhere to be. A-Adieu."

Dipper fled before anything more could be said.

…

Bill arrived with Mabel at the zoo some twenty minutes later. The day was blistering, the crowd was noisy and kept shoving him around, and it reeked. Both he and Mabel were charged with carrying backpacks filled with the secondary disguises, and his lower back was starting to ache. The animals were especially disappointing. He had vague memories of giant land mammals that reigned 15 stories tall. Those guys were at least mildly interesting, whatever happened to those guys?

Or maybe I'm just getting my memories mixed up, he thought as he stared at a dead-eyed horse thing. There's no way this dimension would have anything that cool in it.

It wasn't long before the walkie-talkie started buzzing. Once Pacifica filled them in and Mabel informed her of their location, Mabel began leading them through the crowd, elbowing her way through and shouting when people didn't move fast enough. Bill stayed glued to Mabel's back, nearly stepping on her heels as she cleared the path.

The deeper they ventured into the crowd, the more uncomfortable Bill became. He had never been packed together with so many people before, and it was causing his body to feel as if it were being choked. Breathe, he told himself. Remember to breathe. Like Blondie taught you.

He reached out to grab the back of Mabel's shirt. You're going to be fine, he told himself.

They waited underneath the bathroom awning, where Pacifica spotted them a few minutes later. Mabel waved her over. "Come on," she said in a low voice when Pacifica drew near. "We can change in this family bathroom."

They all piled into the small, poorly maintained bathroom. Bill's sense of smell was still relatively new to him, and on most days he found it to be a pleasant novelty. This was not one of those days.

"I wanna go home" he mumbled to himself, filled with longing for the Mystery Shack and the crisp Oregon air.

"The sooner we pull this off," Pacifica said as she tore off her wig and kicked off her shoes, "the sooner we can get out of here. Hurry up and put on your wig."

"Wig? What wig?" Bill reached into his assigned backpack and pulled out a long, ugly black wig. "Pine Tree didn't say I had to wear a wig."

"I didn't think it would hurt for you to have a disguise as well," Pacifica said with a cheeky grin, giving Bill a good idea who bought this wig. "Just in case anybody saw you walking in here earlier."

"But I'm the hostage," Bill snapped. "And this wig sucks!"

"I just wanted you to have the full 'Agent Vulture Beta' experience."

"'Meh meh bleh experience," Bill mumbled, and then whined, "Shooting Star, Blondie's picking on me."

"Oh, don't be such a baby. Mabel, you said the wig was a good idea, right?" No answer. Pacifica turned around. "Mabel?"

Mabel, who had already changed into her baggy clothes, was staring into the mirror with her eyebrows crossed. Pacifica cleared her throat and she blinked, looking over to them.

"Oh! Uh, sorry. What did I miss?"

Seeming to forget about Bill, Pacifica walked over towards Mabel. "Everything okay, Mabe?" she asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. Mabel nodded, puffing up her cheeks and rolling her shoulders. Pacifica let her arm fall back to her side.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just …" Exhaling a sharp breath, Mabel reached towards her waistline and yanked out the spray-painted water gun, turning it over in her hands. "I'm just a little nervous, I guess."

And here, Bill was stumped. Shooting Star? Nervous over this? He didn't get it.

Grumbling to himself, Bill flipped the atrocious wig onto his head, stuffing his blonde hair into the net. It smelled moldy and itched. Not giving himself the chance to peek at himself in the mirror, he made for the door. "I'm out of here," he declared, opening the door just enough that he could slip out. "Don't lollygag, ladies."

He sauntered back out into the blistering sun, his mood plummeting as a result. The wig seemed to absorb all the light in the immediate area. Though there's still plenty left over, he thought, squinting as he observed the zoo map. He wished he had thought to bring sunglasses.

The girls were taking their sweet time, as Bill was still lounging about some fifteen minutes later, sweating and trying to stave off his suffocation. Maybe they just couldn't see him? Maybe this whole operation would be a bust just because Mabel couldn't spot his horrible wig in time before they were tackled by security. Just what this trip needs. Another extension. I hope they don't expect me to break them out of jail.

Thankfully, he worries were unfounded. The only warning he got was the flash of dark clothing in the corner of his eye before something tugged the back of his neck and he heard the sound of loud, cracking gunshots, which sounded completely fake if anyone cared to listen. But that was unlikely, due to the way the crowd around him started scrambling and screaming.

"EVERYBODY EVACUATE THE AREA IMMEDIATELY," came the warbled, deeply altered voice to his left. He was only able to tell it was Pacifica operating the megaphone due to how much shorter she was from the second figure. The disguises were doing the trick. He twisted his lips at the sight of the manatee ski masks. Another brilliant idea from Mabel, he was sure. "FAILURE TO COMPLY AND WE'LL START BY SHOOTING HIM FIRST."

"Act scared," was whispered in his ear, and he felt Mabel press the tip of the fake gun to the side of his head. Trying not to roll his eye, he opened his mouth and sighed,

"Ahhhhh. Ow. Watch the sunburn, Star."

"You need to take some acting lessons," Mabel mumbled, and then started leading him through the thinning crowd. Dipper's plan of using a hostage seemed to be working, as any security guards that approached them hesitated at the sight of him. He tried looking scared, but he wasn't sure it worked. He guessed it didn't matter, as they scattered the second Pacifica barked at them with her megaphone.

"Peacock to Eagle," Pacifica said into the walkie-talkie. "Sparrow's got the hostage, err … Vulture," she corrected under Bill's withering glare, "at spray-gun-point and is clearing out the area. We're moving to the next point. Over."

"Copy that."

"Come on," Pacifica said as she pocketed the device. "We'll have to go through the Lost Forest if we want to get to the aquarium on time."

"Got it." Mabel pushed Bill forward, keeping one hand on his shoulder with the other holding the gun against his back. It didn't seem necessary to keep holding him like this, as the area was almost cleared, but whatever worked, whatever worked.

His mood had improved significantly now that the operation had started. Being included felt nice. The chaos around him was pretty nostalgic as well.

…

Once Dipper received the signal from Pacifica, he ducked into a Porto-Potty, locking it behind him. The smell made him nauseous, but he ignored the feeling, covering his mouth with his shirt and pressing his ear up against the door. Nothing happened at first, but then he heard raised yells from the workers, things like "gun threat" and "evacuation". There was a scrambling, and it wasn't long before the voices were gone, leaving him in silence. He waited an extra few minutes just to be sure and then began changing into his secondary disguise.

This is it. He paused to breathe. No going back.

He pulled out the mask. A manatee? Seriously, Mabel? Why did I let you pick out the masks? Sighing, he yanked the mask over his head. Better you than Bill, I guess, but still.

He peeked out of the Porto-Potty, and once he determined the coast was clear, he crept out and made a beeline for the tanks on the other side of the site. Dropping the bag, Dipper threw on his safety equipment and went for the plasma cutter. It weighed a good forty pounds. He had to strain to bring it up to the top of the truck with him."

It was a struggle to work with the plasma cutter in the heat, especially after the difficult climb up. But it performed better than expected. By the time he was finished, he was ten minutes ahead of schedule. Perfect. Now to pry it open.

Dipper retrieved a crowbar from the construction site. He shimmied the crowbar underneath his cut, trying to find a spot with good leverage. With a grunt, he pushed down on the bar. It wouldn't budge. Shit. Breathing heavily, he tried again, bearing down with his entire body. He could feel the blood rushing to his head, and he was starting to get dizzy. Shit!

Just as he was considering calling up Mabel, however, the crowbar pried open the lid with a pop! Releasing a large breath, he took a moment to recover before wresting off the remains. Mindful of the melted metal, Dipper kicked off the lid, where it banged on the broken concrete. Wincing, Dipper glanced around if anyone had heard that, despite knowing the park had to have been evacuated by now. Still, you never knew. A healthy dose of paranoia never hurt anyone.

Grabbing the plasma cutter, Dipper dashed towards the break room building. He melted the lock on the door before kicking it in, making his way into the locker room. 218, 218, 218, he repeated in his head before he located Dave the truck driver's locker. Cutting off the lock, he was ecstatic to find the keys were still there. He snatched up the keys and ran back outside.

"Eagle to Peacock," Dipper said into the walkie-talkie, scrambling into the driver's seat. He put in the keys and revved the engine. It was a beautiful sound. "Got the truck and readying for transport. Are you in position?"

"This is Peacock," was the reply. "We're near the tanks. You're early, what gives?"

"The plasma cutter worked better than expected," he said with a shrug. "I'm on my way, hang tight. Over and out."

"Over and out."

Maneuvering towards the service entrance was no easy feat. He tried to avoid running over the equipment that was left behind or anything that looked remotely expensive. But even Dipper's driving abilities weren't enough to bend the fabric of reality. A trail of debris followed him as he backed into the service entrance of the aquariums. He spotted three figures waiting next to the manatee tanks, one of them sitting down on the ground, wearing a … Halloween witch's wig?

He definitely shouldn't have left Mabel in charge of disguises.

When Dipper had parked as close to the side of the tank as he could, he threw the truck in park and hopped outside. The three looked over, and Bill perked up at the sight of him, flicking the hair out of his eye.

"Make any new friends, Pine Tree?" he asked as Dipper drew up next to him.

"Um. Yes, actually," Dipper said, thinking of Dave. The guy seemed nice; Dipper hoped he wouldn't get in trouble for his truck getting sliced open. He looked into the tank. "You guys find her yet?"

"Not yet," said Pacifica, and Dipper deflated. "How are we supposed to identify her anyway? Can manatees understand English?"

"Oh yes they can," said Mabel, her face smooshed against the glass. "Although the Queen's English isn't good. Spanish is her first language. Mermando had been trying to teach her, but he said she's kind of stubborn about the whole thing."

"Great gossip, Star," Bill snapped from his place on the floor. "Now hurry up and find the stupid cow. It's lunchtime and I'm hungry."

Dipper shushed him, and then returned to looking at the tank. "Maybe we can flag her down?" he thought out loud, looking at a lumpy manatee than swam just in front of him. "Does she know, like, sign language or anything?"

"No …" Standing up, Mabel brought a hand to her chin. "But maybe … Oh! Idea." Reaching into her backpack, she pulled out a bent photograph. When she unfolded it, Dipper recognized Mermando, floating next to the Queen. It must have been a few years old, for Mermando looked younger than when Dipper last saw him.

"Where did you get that?" Pacifica asked.

"One of the guards gave it to me this morning after I sent my update. I figured it'd be good to have a reference."

"Mabel, you're a genius," Dipper said. "Now …" He leaned closer towards the photo, scrutinizing the Queen. "It looks like her whiskers are a bit longer than the typical manatee, and there's a mole on the left side of her snout. I think that's a—"

But before he could finish, Mabel walked back up to the tank and pressed the picture onto the glass. She waved her arms, rapping the tank with her knuckles and bellowing, "Manati! MANATI! WE! ARE! HERE! TO! RES! CUE! YOU!"

"What are you doing?" Dipper asked, pulling his sister's arm away from the tank. She glanced over at him with a wild look. "Not so loud. Someone might hear you. Besides," he gestured to a manatee that was swimming nearby, and he was sure they were giving them a dirty look, "you're gonna give these guys a headache."

"We need to get her attention, Dip. In case you have noticed, it's a big tank, and sound doesn't travel well through water."

"I know sound doesn't travel well through water, but there has to be a better way to go about it than this. How do you even know she'll recognize her own face?"

"Oh what, just because she's a manatee means she can't recognize her own face? Don't you think you're being a little prejudiced?"

"No I am not. The only animals recorded to be able to recognize their own face are humans, elephants, and dolphins and some monkeys."

"Maybe that's just because nobody checked if manatees could?"

"GUYS!"

A second away from spewing steam from his nose, Dipper whirled around to Pacifica. She was looking into the tank and he followed her gaze. While the two have been bickering, a manatee had swum up to the group. It was noticeably larger than the rest and seemed to be staring at the photo Mabel held up. It pressed its nose against the glass, and Dipper didn't think he had ever seen a manatee look so sad.

"Your Majesty?" Mabel asked, and then tried again a bit louder. "Manati?" A warbled groan answered them, and the manatee inched away from the glass, waving its flippers. Mabel brought the picture to her chest, smiling. "It is her."

"Let me see." Dipper took the picture from his sister, looking back and forth between it and the manatee before them. Yeah … it even has the mole on its left nostril … "Okay … We're gonna wanna get her into the crane. The tarp is on the other side."

"We're going to get you out of here, Your Highness," Mabel shouted through cupped hands. The Queen blinked at them, continuing her garbled noises. "I don't think she understands. WE! ARE! GOING! TO— Um. TRUCK!" Mabel pointed to the saltwater truck next to the tank. The Queen followed her hand. "We're going to put you in, uh … Your Majesty?" The Queen continued to blink. "This isn't working."

"Does anyone know Spanish?" Pacifica asked. Mabel raised her eyebrows and then looked at Pacifica, who shook her head and shrugged. "I flunked out of my Spanish class."

"Same here," Mabel mumbled. "Dipper barely got a C." She threw her head back and groaned. "Why doesn't America make more of an effort to integrate languages other than English into their education system?"

"Oh move over." All three pairs of eyes locked on Bill as he hoisted himself up and nudged his way next to Mabel. "What do you want to say to her?"

Mabel blinked, sharing a glance with her brother before looking back to Bill. "You can speak Spanish?"

"It's … rusty," he said with a grimace. "But I'm sure I can get the message across. Hurry up, Star, we don't have all day."

"Right." Mabel returned her attention to the tank. "Tell her we're here on behalf of Mermando to rescue her."

Bill sighed, seeming a second away from rolling his eye, but turned towards the tank. "Tu estúpido esposo nos envió aquí para rescatarte."

"Okay, and tell her we're going to lift her into the truck using the tarp and crane."

"No tienes ni idea de los riesgos que tome para encontrar tu trasero grasiento," Bill continued, his frown growing more pronounced. "Más vale que hables bien de nosotros y que nos des oro o algo porque este viaje ha sido horrible."

The Queen blinked, bubbles escaping from her mouth as if taken aback. Mabel raised her hands. "It's okay, I promise it won't hurt or anything. We're going to get you home to your husband and baby safe and sound."

"Y como si no fuera suficiente ser regañado como un niñito, tuve que observar como las dos personas que más me importan fueron arrastradas abajo del océano." Bill huffed. "¿Tu esposo es un demente, lo sabias? Deberías considerar un divorcio."

"Wait," Pacifica said, raising a brow, "did you just say something about a divorce?"

"No," Bill said without looking away from the tank. He sighed, slumping his shoulders, and then continued, "But yeah, te vamos en poner en ese, uh … truck," he gestured towards the saltwater tank, "y sacarte de aquí."

Dipper regarded Bill suspiciously, but held his tongue, as the Queen seemed to understand him. She bobbed her head and blew more bubbles out of her nose before swimming over towards the truck.

"Perfect," he said. "Nice work, Bill." Bill beamed at him, and Dipper smiled. "I'll operate the crane. Everyone else load up, we're gonna be moving fast after this."

They did as told, Mabel calling shotgun as Dipper dashed over towards the industrial crane. He hoped that they had enough time. So far they had been crashing through this plan, and he hoped their luck stayed with them.

"Okay, okay, okay," Dipper muttered to himself as he scanned the crane controls. First, I need to lower the tarp into the tank. The Queen should swim inside it once I do. If not, Bill can just explain it again. He located what he thought was the drop down lever, but as he was reaching for it, he heard Pacifica say,

"What is she doing?"

Dipper looked up to see what she was talking about. The Queen was swimming around in a circle at the edge of her tank. What is she doing? Dipper furrowed his brow as she continued to circle. It almost looked like … she was gaining speed?

"She's gonna jump," Bill said suddenly and Dipper knew he was right, despite the fact that he was sure manatees couldn't jump. He held up his hands.

"Your Majesty—!"

Too late. He watched in horror as the heap of gray blubber soared out of the water, barely clearing the top of the glass wall before clumsily clipping the welded edge of the saltwater tank and falling into the water with a slosh. Dipper's mouth fell open, heart hammering in his chest, and he scrambled to the edge of the crane lift. He tried to peek into the water, and hoped he wasn't going to have to explain to Mermando how his wife had gotten sliced open by a truck.

He stared into the water, and he sighed with relief when a whiskered face surfaced. He couldn't spot any cuts on her body or blood in the water. She seemed to be making an earnest expression at him, as if saying, 'Well, don't just stand there, boy, it's time to get hustling!' He almost felt like lecturing her on how dangerous a stunt that was, but, frankly, he was too impressed.

He climbed back into the truck, slamming the door behind him and throwing the truck into drive.

Mabel was snickering. "Well, that's one way to do it."

"Idiot could've sliced herself open," Bill mumbled as if the thought annoyed him more than anything else.

Pacifica shrugged. "Well, we're almost twenty minutes ahead of schedule now. I'm not about to complain.

Smirking, Dipper led them out of the aquarium and towards the service exit. It wouldn't be much longer now. They were almost home free.

The service exit led them through a forest area onto a narrow, dusty road. They had yet to remove their masks, although Bill tore off his wig and would have thrown it out the window if Dipper hadn't have snapped at him. "We're going to bury everything once we get back," he said, much to Bill's distress.

Mabel squirmed in her seat, giddy with excitement. "Oh man, we are going to throw the biggest party tonight. If only we had some vodka or something. And fireworks! We need fireworks."

"Calm down, Mabel, we're not out of this yet," Dipper said, despite his small smile and his relaxed demeanor. "We still have a highway to cut through before getting to the drop-off."

"And then we'll be in the clear," Mabel said, giggling.

"Yes, and then we'll be in the clear."

As they reached the end of the service route, Dipper spotted the path that led to Richmond Street. After that it would just be cutting through a few residential streets before they could make it to the highway. It would be around a leisurely 15 minute drive. Almost. Easing up on the gas pedal, he craned his neck to get a better look at the street. He hoped nobody paid too much attention to the truck being driven by three masked figures. It would be suspicious, but it was still too risky to remove their masks just yet. Just a little longer.

They merged into the street without much fuss, and Dipper figured they were in the clear, but he tensed when Mabel took a sharp breath and grabbed his arm.

"Dipper."

He looked into the rearview mirror and his heart dropped. Two cop cars had been positioned just outside the exit road. Just when he dared to hope that they hadn't been spotted. The red and blue lights snapped on and the sirens began wailing. The cop cars pulled out, and were headed right towards them.

Dipper swore under his breath. He had figured the police would be too concerned evacuating the pedestrians and sweeping the park to even think of considering the perpetrators might escape via the backroad service exit. He had been wrong.

"Hang on," he said through gritted teeth, bearing his whole weight down on the gas pedal. The two cop cars flagged him and were gaining. He thought he heard someone bellowing out of a speakerphone, but Dipper couldn't hear through the buzzing in his ears. When one of the cars sped up on his left, Dipper tightened his fists. Without giving himself time to doubt, he swerved towards the car, just barely smacking into it. The rest of the passengers toppled in their seats, and Pacifica screamed.

"Dipper, what are you DOING—?" Mabel yelled, tightening her grip on Dipper's arm as he swerved again to the car on his right. It immediately backed off.

"I can't let them overtake me," he said, keeping his eyes locked on the road ahead of him. They were heading straight for the residential area. "Fuck."

Dipper yanked the wheel, and the wheels screeched as the truck veered right onto the street. He pictured the map of San Diego in his head, envisioning the fastest routes and best shortcuts. The street is north of here. Dipper swerved through the earliest break in the line of cars and into the yard. The tank of the truck barreled through one of the parallel parked cars.

"DIPPER—!"

"It's a nice looking neighborhood," he yelled to his sister. "I'm sure they have good insurance!"

The truck busted through wooden fences and back yards, and Dipper pressed onto the horn, alerting anyone nearby to their presence and hoping they knew to get the fuck out of the way. They destroyed a trampoline and several plastic houses. The party was thrown repeatedly out of their seats, with Pacifica screaming at Bill to put on his seatbelt and Bill just screaming.

They emerged from the last yard and merged onto the main road. His window had been shattered and glass sprayed over him. He counted his lucky stars that he hadn't killed anyone, even though he had caused hundreds of thousands of dollars in property damage. All the more reason to not get caught.

He could still hear sirens in the distance. "Are they still following us?"

Mabel glanced into the side mirror. "I don't see them."

"I think I bit my tongue," Bill whimpered, on the verge of tears. Pacifica was holding her head out the window, and Dipper tensed when she gasped.

"Dipper, they've got a chopper."

As soon as she said it, he heard the distant beat of helicopter blades. "PULL OVER!" a distorted voice screamed. It wouldn't be long before the cop cars found them again with that chopper tailing them. The street they were on was so narrow that there was no risk of being overtaken, but it was only a matter of time before they reached the turnpike where the cops would be free to corral him. He couldn't let that happen. "Brace yourselves."

The other three cried out as Dipper swerved sharply to the left down a narrow alley. Pedestrians jumped out of the way. Dipper's side mirror shattered on one of the walls and he cursed. He navigated the tight alley streets, trying to maintain his speed and taken the most southwestern routes available.

He turned out of the alleyway. Several other cars skidded to avoid him. Sorry! "We're almost there," he said.

"The chopper can still see us," Pacifica said, and there was real fear in her voice. "What are we going to do once we reach the beach?"

"I don't know," he said, although that was a slight lie. If worse came to worse, he might be pushed to drive straight into the ocean. At least then the Queen was sure to be free and the humans released even if they got caught. That was only the worst case scenario. He turned the wheel and stomped on the gas pedal, wishing he were driving anything other than a 15 ton truck.

They were almost to the docks.

Concrete terraces rose on either side, a few bridges offering them cover from the chopper. He drove the truck down a dip in road, and saw a light shining on the other side. They crested the hill and Dipper slammed his foot on the break. The truck skidded to a halt.

"It's a blockade," he said, voice hollow.

Nearly ten cop cars were parked together on the road, sirens blaring and the red-and-blue lights blinding him. Just as he considered backing up, the cars that had been pursuing them skidded to a stop behind them. They were trapped.

"H-how … did they know we'd be here …?" Pacifica asked, a tremor in her voice.

Mabel shook her head, eyes narrowed. "They must have a really talented dispatcher or got really friggin lucky."

One of the police officers approached them, holding a megaphone to her lips. "EXIT THE VEICHLE IMMEDIATELY." A wave of other police officers flagged her, dressed to their toes in body armor and aiming guns right at them. "GET OUT OF THE CAR AND GET ON THE GROUND."

"Dipper, what do we do?" Mabel whispered. Dipper licked his lips, staring at the wheel. Stay calm. Ford said a clear head can get you out of any problem. Only Dipper couldn't clear his head; his thoughts were a mix of swirling panic.

The cop ordered them out of the car again and Dipper flinched. Mabel let out a frustrated noise, and she pulled her "gun" out of her waistline. Before Dipper could realize what she was doing, she had already let out a shout and kicked open the door, jumping out of the car. "MABEL!"

Mabel aimed the gun at the officer. "I'm not going to let you take her back, so why don't you juAAAH!" Two cops grabbed her from behind, knocking the gun out of her hands and forcing her onto the ground. "Bad plan, BAD PLAN!"

What did you think was going to happen? Dipper wanted to scream, but was distracted by the sound of a cocking gun by his left.

"Hands off the wheel, son," said the officer, training a Glock at Dipper through the broken window. Dipper put his hands up. Keep a clear head, keep a clear head, there has to be a way out of this, come on, come on …

He glanced over his shoulder. Bill was hunched over, eye shut tight and clenching his fists. Pacifica was staring at Mabel, half standing out of her seat, poised to leap out of the truck to help her friend. Dipper looked back to the officer. His hands were steady, his eyes pure steel.

What do I do?

Dipper squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened his eyes again, color had been bled from the world. He felt the familiar, woozy sensation of weightless deep in his chest. The entire world was gray. Birds and butterflies had been frozen in midflight. There was no wind.

The muscles of Dipper's stomach tightened as he realized what had happened. Judging by the bewildered reaction of the officer out the window, he wasn't the only one who had grasped that something had changed. The other cops muttered amongst themselves in agitation.

"Whoa," he heard Pacifica whisper. He turned around. Pacifica was staring out the window, face slack with shock and awe. He looked at Bill. Bill's eye flitted around, and for a moment, he looked just a dumbstruck as Pacifica. But then his eye met with Dipper, and the expression melted away, replaced by a wide maniac smile.

"The show must go on."

It was Bill's voice but it didn't come from his mouth. He vanished, and laughter echoed around the area. And then, as if the sun were extinguished, it went completely black.

"MABEL," Dipper yelled. He was no longer sitting in the truck. He ran forward, arm's pushed out ahead. "Pacifica! Bill!" His feet clicked on the floor as if he were walking on tile, and he could hear the panicked murmurs and screams of the other cops, so he knew he wasn't alone.

"Dipper?"

"Mabel? Is that you?"

"Over here, bro!"

He continued feeling around for his sister, bumping shoulders with more than one person. Suddenly, hands were groping his face, and the only reason he didn't scream was because of the immediate, "Bro-bro? That you?"

"Yeah, it's me." He pushed the hands away from his face, maintaining a firm grip on his sister's sleeve. "Where's Pacifica? And Bill? We're in the Mindscape, aren't we?"

"I don't think—"

Mabel was interrupted by the sound of a loud bang and a blinding puff of smoke. Next thing he knew, they were sitting in plastic chairs in an outdoor amphitheater. When Dipper looked around, he realized the chairs all around them at been filled with the police officers. The three of them had been placed in the front row.

"IT IS GOOD TO BE BACK, FOLKS."

The curtains parted, accompanied by a rousing orchestra. There, high above the stage, Bill floated, dressed in the bright yellow tuxedo and black bowtie, sporting a tall black top hat. His expression was disturbingly elated as he slowly descended towards the stage. Muttering broke out amongst the crowd.

"Ta-da. I made reality disappear." He removed his hat with a flourish and took a low bow. "Turns out it was a trick this whole time. But first, let's give a warm round of applause for our guests here today." He flung the hat to his side, where it continued to float as Bill brought his gloved hands together. In a puff of smoke, hundreds of other hands appeared on stage, furiously applauding.

"I can't believe this is happening," Dipper muttered to himself. Next to him, Pacifica was clapping. He nudged her shoulder, glaring at her.

"What? It's impressive." She shrugged, seeming wholly unconcerned with the idea of being trapped in a dream dimension under the exclusive control of a barely rehabilitated demon. Dipper huffed, slumping down in his seat.

Bill vanished the hands with a flick of his wrist. With a snap, he had summoned a sleek, black cane, twirling it between his fingers. "Oh boy, I'm so lucky to have such a captive audience today." He slapped his knee and chortled. He laughed for so long it became uncomfortable, and he wiped away a tear, sighing. "Aaaah. We've got quite a performance planned for you this evening, so—"

A gunshot rang three consecutive times, and three bloody spots peppered Bill's chest. Dipper gasped, his entire body stiffening up. Bill's face went blank crimson liquid stained his pristine suite. His blood dripped onto the floor.

"You're under arrest," a voice in the back shouted, the quiver in their voice embarrassingly noticeable.

Bill blinked, and then blinked again. Then he sighed and shook his head. "Guess we're going to have to speed things up a bit," he said, descending until his feet almost touched the floor. He inspected the wound just over his heart. "Nice aim, kid. Still, do you know how difficult it is to get out bloodstains?"

With a quirked brow, he jammed his thumb and forefinger into the wound and ripped out a piece of cartilage. He examined it for a moment and then popped it into his mouth, chewing it briefly, and swallowing. Someone screamed, and Dipper was sure at least one person was losing their lunch.

"Bill, what are you doing?!" Mabel asked. In the next second, Bill materialized before her, hovering just above her face as if he were lying on his stomach.

"Trust me Star. This is what I do." He blinked, but Dipper was almost sure he had been trying to wink, and offered the three of them a small, reassuring smile. Then he dematerialized and the world flipped upside-down.

The police officers immediately fell out of their seats into the endless sky that had appeared before them. Their screams were unlike anything Dipper had heard before. He, Mabel, and Pacifica remained planted, although he was sure that wasn't just because he was gripping onto his arm seats for dear life.

A few feet below, Bill was staring up at them, leaning against his cane. It looked like he was standing on solid ground, despite there being nothing but sky. "Well, come on then, we don't have all day."

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Pacifica was mumbling to herself.

"You're insane," Dipper said, knowing it was pointless. Bill chuckled.

"I'm not dignifying that with a response. Now hurry up."

But Dipper wouldn't let go, no matter how much he told himself it wasn't real, it was safe. All he could see was the endless void below him, and all he could hear was the screams of the police officers. In the end, it was Mabel who budged first. With a small, muffled yelp, she let go of the armrests. She only fell a few feet before her body abruptly righted itself and she landed right-side-up. Straightening up, she wiped her sweating hands on her pants, breathing heavily. "Jesus Christ, Bill."

Pacifica was next, and just like Mabel, she was able to land squarely on her feet. Bill was staring up at him, a knowing smirk gracing his lips, and Dipper couldn't help but sense the challenge there. Taking a deep breath, Dipper released his death grip on the armrests, and gravity yanked him down. His heart pounded in his chest. He somersaulted midair and landed with a gentle thud on his feet. Bill's grin widened.

"Took you long enough." Pulling back his sleeve, Bill glanced at a black watch on his left wrist. "Now let's play some catch up."

Without even the slightest warning, the four of them plunged downwards as if they were riding the world's fastest elevator. It didn't even feel like they were moving. Still, the rushing colors was enough to make him nauseous and Mabel had to close her eyes, holding her head.

A few seconds later, they slowed down. They were falling parallel to the swarm of thrashing, shrieking police officers.

"OK, FLESHBAGS, LISTEN UP." Bill's voice echoed fiercely throughout the void, and Dipper could hear it clearly over the screaming cops. "YES, REALITY IS AN ILLUSION, BUT I DIDN'T ACTUALLY MAKE IT GO AWAY. YOU'RE ALL JUST DREAMING. MORE ACCURATELY, I'M DREAMING, AND YOU'RE ALL STUCK HERE WITH ME. THOUGH, REALLY, IT LOOKS LIKE WE'RE HAVING TWO DIFFERENT KINDS OF DREAMS HERE. IT SEEMS LIKE I'M HAVING A FLYING DREAM, WHILE YOU'RE HAVING A FALLING DREAM. AND THAT'S REALLY INTERESTING, BECAUSE FLYING DREAMS CAN END WHENEVER, BUT FALLING DREAMS ONLY END WHEN YOU'RE ABOUT TO HIT THE GROUND. THE PROBLEM FOR YOU GUYS IS THAT THERE IS NO GROUND. I CAN MAKE SOME AND GET YOU OUT OF HERE. BUT ONLY IF YOU DO WHAT I SAY."

"Please …!" one of them begged, tears streaming from her face.

"ALRIGHTY." He appeared below the falling officers, staring up at them with his hands behind his back. "I'LL MAKE SOME GROUND, BUT ONLY IF YOU AGREE TO WALK AWAY AND LEAVE THESE THREE PEOPLE," he pointed towards Dipper, Mabel, and Pacifica, "ALONE FOREVER WHEN YOU GET OUT OF HERE." Bill snapped his fingers again and over a dozen hands shot out of his body, engulfed with blue flame. "DEAL?"

One by one, Bill shook hands with the officers. After pulling away from the last one, Bill dismissed the hands with a wave of his arm. He grinned, exposing all his teeth.

"I'll hold you guys to it." He giggled. "See you next fall."

Bill snapped his fingers and the ground came rushing towards them.

With a gasp, Dipper opened his eyes. Bill's laughter echoed in his ears. He was back in the driver's seat of the truck. Pacifica was groaning behind him, and Dipper could see the police officer to his left cradling his head and wobbling. He looked over to where his sister had been tackled, and found the two cops that had pinned her were slowly backing away. She rose to her feet, patting the dust off of her clothes.

The police glanced at each other, expressions varying from confused and dazed to panicked and horrified. At least two had thrown up. Some immediately broke for their car and drove off. The helicopter flew away. Others walked as if in a daze, and slowly the crowd trickled down without one word spoken. After a few minutes, the trio were completely alone on the quiet, desolate hill.

"That … was … awesome," Pacifica said, right before kicking open the door and crawling out on wobbly legs. She doubled over and vomited onto the concrete. Dipper looked away, the retching sounds making him feel as if he were going to throw up too.

He turned back towards Bill. The escapade in the Mindscape had taken a noticeable toll on him. He leaned up against the car window, eye closed as he kneaded his forehead. He had become paler than a stick of chalk, and he seemed even smaller than before. Dipper wanted to say something, but he couldn't think of anything. He turned back to the wheel as Mabel clambered into the car.

"Sooooo," she began, picking at the chipped paint on the squirt gun, "to the beach, then?"

Dipper nodded. "Yeah."

He waited until Pacifica collected herself and reentered the truck before putting it in drive and continuing down the hill. They cut through Cornado Island in complete silence, with Dipper trying to process everything that had happened in the last five minutes. It felt like the more he thought about it, the less sense his made, and he was developing a swift headache to boot.

They were approaching the docks. There was only one thing left to do.

"Everybody out," he said after he braked.

Pacifica was quick to hop out, with Mabel following after. Bill reached for the handle and was able to nudge the door open, but almost tumbled out onto the concrete. Dipper instinctively reached for him, despite being way out of reach. Thankfully, Mabel was there, helping him out onto his feet and taking his arm around her neck. She nodded at Dipper, and then closed the door and joined Pacifica a few feet away on the grass.

Dipper undid his seatbelt. This was it. The final step. Gently, he nudged the gas pedal until reaching about 30 MPH. Dipper opened the truck door, eyes on the ocean as he calculated in his head the best time to jump. He had almost reached the pier.

Now!

He leaped out of the truck, throwing himself onto the grass. His feet connected with the ground and he rolled through the momentum, pain singing up and down his legs. Straightening up, he turned towards the truck, and watched as it careened into the ocean and sank into the water. In a few moments, it was almost entirely submerged.

The other three joined him and together they walked towards the shore. Dipper spotted a gray blob swim away from the truck, and a whiskered nose surfaced. The Queen lingered for a moment longer, before disappearing under the ocean and vanishing.

"Is it over?" Pacifica asked, voice low.

Dipper held up a hand. "Wait for it …"

After a few long minutes, a figure emerged from the water, soaking wet and distinctly human. Two more followed suit. Dipper recognized surly Greg and the elderly Margaret, and realized the third person, a teenager by the looks of it, must have been Adriane. They all stumbled, their legs weak from weeks trapped underwater.

Greg approached the group, his expression a mixture of dazed shock and confusion. "You … it was you guys?"

Dipper nodded. "Yeah. That was us. You're free to go, man."

"Where's Dr. Dunbar?" Mabel asked, still sporting Bill's weight.

A flash of distaste crossed Greg's face. "She said she didn't want to leave, crazy bitch. Good riddance to her."

Before Dipper could brace himself, Margaret had suddenly thrown her arms around him, squeezing him so hard he thought his eyeballs were going to pop out. "Thank you," she whispered. When she pulled away, she placed a kiss on his cheek. There were tears in her eyes.

"N-no problem," he said, blushing fiercely. She smiled, turning to Pacifica and engulfing her, too, in a crushing hug. Pacifica stuttered, patting the elder on her back, shooting Dipper a desperate look. He shrugged.

Greg extended his right hand which, after a moment, Dipper took. "Thank you. I thought we were never getting out of there." He turned to Mabel. She struggled under Bill's dead weight for a moment before she let him take her hand as well. He chuckled. "I'm never going fishing ever again."

Mabel snorted. "I'll say."

Finally, Adriane stepped forward. She must have been only thirteen years old, and looked more tired than a kid her age ever should. Dipper felt a dark surge of anger towards the King once more, but pushed it aside.

"Hey," Mabel said, smiling. "I don't think we've met."

Adriane shook her head, and sniffled. Tears fell down her cheeks. "Thank you for recusing us. I … I wanna go home so bad."

Greg patted her on the shoulder in a fatherly fashion. "Me too, kid. Come on, let's go dry off somewhere. I'm sick of saltwater."

After all the gratitude had been exchanged, the trio became red to their ears in embarrassment. The only one who remained unaffected was Bill, but Dipper didn't know if Bill was even lucid, so he supposed it didn't count. Pacifica used her phone to call up a cab for the ex-hostages, and they all watched as they drove off and out of sight.

The four stood there, unsure of what to do next.

Dipper nodded. "Now it's over."

Mabel and Pacifica exchanged glances. Then, a wide smile slowly appeared onto their faces, and they let out a collected, ear piercing shriek.

"I cannot BELIEVE we pulled that off—!"

"Holy fuck, I didn't even think we could make it into the construction site, but we still did—"

"—but then YOU with the megaphone just barking orders, holy shit that was so sexy—"

"—and she JUMPED INTO THE TRUCK, like, damn, that's the most badass thing I've ever seen—"

"Aaaaaaaaghhh." Bill groaned, covering his ear with one hand and pushing away from Mabel. "I don't wanna be here anymore. Pine Tree, please …" He stumbled over to Dipper and practically fell into his shoulder, and Dipper was sure he would fall over if he stood on his own for too long. Dipper held back a laugh, patting him on the back.

"—and then Dipper, oh my flying fuck, Dipper with his insane driving totally destroyed that neighborhood—"

"And then you," Pacifica broke out in laughter. "You with your fucking squirt gun just JUMPED out of the truck, like what the fuck?"

Mabel sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck, laughing. "Yeah, that wasn't my best idea, but I couldn't think of what else to do! But then Bill …" Mabel's mouth made a perfect 'o', and she breathed sharply.

"I know, right? Like, that was probably the fre—" she turned towards Bill, "—that was probably the freakiest, most awesome thing I've ever seen anyone do. And you totally got our asses out of that mess; we would have so gotten caught."

"You certainly seemed to have fun with it, too," Dipper said with an eyebrow raised.

Mabel punched him in the shoulder.

"Ah, lay off him already, bro-bro," she said. "He totally earned this."

"I know, I know!" Dipper said earnestly, rubbing his shoulder. "I was just, uh …" He sighed. "Never mind. Yeah, you did a good job, Bill." He turned to Bill and smiled. "We couldn't have done it without you."

For a second, a small smile curled Bill's lips. He looked down at his feet, rubbing his nose. "Of course you couldn't've," he said. "And don't expect any repeat performances, alright? I'm serious, kid. Now, come on already, I'm literally about to die from hunger."

Dipper scoffed. "That's not what literally means—"

"I was a demonic abomination that defied all human understanding, Pine Tree, I'll decide what literally means, now shut your fucking face and feed me already."

"It's time to party!" Mabel said as they began their walk back towards the main roads. When they got far enough away from the site, they called up a cab, and soon they were making their way back to Pacifica's beach house.

Five minutes into the car ride, Bill passed out on Dipper's shoulder.

…

As Dipper and Pacifica arranged the box to be buried, Mabel dug the hole in the beach. Once it was deep enough that she was entirely submerged, they helped her out and threw the box into the ground. It was all the physical evidence of their involvement with the theft of the manatee at the San Diego zoo. Well, not the plasma cutter. Mabel begged to keep it, said she could use it for future art projects. Pacifica let her have it, much to Mabel's delight.

It took about an hour. While they had worked, Bill had hung back on the patio, looking tired and ghastly. To be more precise, Bill had looked as if his soul had been sucked out of his mouth by a vacuum cleaner. Dipper had made a sandwich for him and it seemed to help perk him up, but he still had been unable to finish it.

Pacifica suggested that all he needed was rest.

When the afternoon melted into dusk and stars started dimpling the sky, they gathered around the fire pit on the back patio. Mabel and Pacifica sat on one side of the couch with Bill and Dipper across from them. Pacifica dropped a few bricks of fire logs, after taking the briefest of moments to explain how they're so eco-friendly, and Mabel used a lighter to get the fire started. As the fire spread , Dipper was bathed in warmth and he sighed in content, feeling as if though the stress of the day were melting off of him.

For a while, the four of them sat around and just talked. The girls had managed to convince Dipper to share what had happened while scoping the construction site.

"… so then I knocked on the door and the guy was the one who opened it. And when he asked me what I wanted, I guess I sort of panicked here, this French accent just came out of me. And the funny part was, I think he totally bought it."

Mabel was snickering from across the pit. "Seriously? You're terrible at accents."

"Come on, Dipdop, what did it sound like?" Pacifica asked.

"No, really guys, it was really bad …"

"That's why we have to hear it," said Mabel. Dipper sighed, shaking his head before clearing his throat.

"Bonjour, my name iz Dippor Pines, do you 'ave a moment to discuss ze magazine? It would only be a moment of your time."

"Wow, you're right, that was pretty rotten," Pacifica said through a snort while Mabel had doubled over with laughter.

"Well, apparently it emulates a southern dialect so, you know," Dipper shrugged, "bite me."

"P-Pacifica," Mabel began, wiping a tear from her eye, "can't you speak French?"

"Sort of. I haven't practiced in ages, so I'm probably not that good." Pacifica brought a hand to her cheek, humming to herself. "Umm … Bonsoir, je m'appelle Pacifica. Je viens d'Oregon. Enchantée!" Pacifica paused, looking to the sky as if considering something, before continuing, "Je veux économiser de l'argent pour mon marché d'arts, mais c'est très difficile de ne pas dépenser pour des choses inutiles. Tous les vêtements que je porte coûtent plus que ta maison." Leaning over, she whispered to Mabel in a conspiratorial manner, "Quand j'étais jeune, je croyais que ton frère était mignon. Ne le lui dis pas."

Mabel giggled. "I have no idea what she just said."

"You learned French but not Spanish?" Bill asked, and Dipper looked over towards him in surprise. He hadn't spoken since they had got back.

Pacifica shrugged. "My parents had a hard-on for France. Germany, too. What about you, Bill? How many languages do you know?"

Bill's eye widened a bit and he straightened up, as if he hadn't been expecting a question. "Um. All of them?"

"Whaaaa?" Mabel gasped, sparkles in her eyes. "Speak Finnish. No, Chinese! No, Mandarin Chinese."

Bill blinked rapidly, and a deep red crawled up his neck. "I-I mean, it's been kind of difficult lately, remembering every—" Gulping, Bill shot Pacifica a desperate look. Pacifica's eyebrows went up, but for some reason or another, she seemed to understand.

"So Bill," she said, leaning forward. "What's the best food you've eaten since getting your body?"

"Oh, that's easy," he said, with no small amount of relief. "It'd have to be a tie that Indian takeout we had for dinner that one time or Pine Tree's spaghetti."

"What?" Mabel said. "What about my purple scones? You said they were smack-o-licious."

"She asked for my favorite, Star, it was very specific. But your omelets are easily in my top five."

Mabel huffed, and then crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. Dipper rubbed the back of his head, sheepish. Pacifica chuckled.

"You know, I remember there was this awesome seafood place just outside of Gravity Falls that made the best salmon I have ever tasted. You should check it out."

Bill made a face of revulsion. "Seafood is one of the most disgusting things humanity has ever produced, and that's including solid waste."

"Are you serious?" Pacifica said, eyes wide. "Seafood is delicious. Have you even tried lobster?"

"Mmm, I dunno Paz," Mabel said. "Seafood is pretty nasty. One time I ate an oyster and my stomach launched a full-fledged rebellion against me for days. I'm with Bill on this."

"Except that you're wrong, sis," Dipper said, shaking his head. "My favorite food has to be those king crab legs from that shack we went to with Mom that one summer. Oh man, I still have dreams about it. Bill, you're not allowed to make a final judgement on seafood until we get you to that crab shack."

"Too late, Pine Tree. Mind's already made up. You tried to feed me that tuna sandwich once and the smell alone made me want to gag. Seafood is the literal worst."

"That's not what literal means—"

"I will literally bite your mouth off, and yes, I am using it correctly."

The four of them continued their chat long after the sun had set. The night sky was a near black with only a few stars able to pierce the light pollution of San Diego. A rush of homesickness went through Dipper, and he couldn't wait to return to his own starry sky. But for now, he was content being surrounded by his friends. It came as a small shock they he had included Bill in that category.

Bill, for his part, looked the best Dipper's seen him all weekend, despite still being as pale as death. Even then, the firelight restored some color to his face and his eye seemed a bit brighter. The contrast made Dipper realize how miserable and lonely Bill had looked since day one. He had noticed, but he hadn't cared to ask, and it made him feel rotten all over again.

Then, Mabel found a live stream of a news broadcast on her phone. She gathered everyone close so they could watch it. The reporter was discussing how a gun threat had been made at 2:23 PM at the San Diego zoo earlier that day. A truck had been stolen and one of the manatees was taken. When one of the police officers involved was questioned about the perpetrators, she said,

"We pursued, but they evaded us." There was a hollow, glazed look to her eyes. "We never saw their faces."

The reporter closed with a catchy one-liner and the channel moved onto the next segment. Mabel held her hand out, and Pacifica high-fived her.

"It's official," Pacifica said. "We got off scot-free."

"Hell yeah we did!" Mabel threw her hands up, throwing an impromptu dance party. "We need some serious alcohol for this, it's the only way to truly commemorate our victory. And we still need fireworks!"

"Oh, I know a guy that can totally hook us up with some with some liquor."

"Even though you're under 21?"

Pacifica nodded. "There's an extra security fee, but he's got some great wares."

"And the fireworks?"

"He works next to a fireworks warehouse."

Mabel had to bite back a scream of joy. "I am in. Dipper, are you in?"

Dipper had to think about it for a bit. He didn't particularly like drinking, especially not as heavily as his sister. But he felt like it was a good night for it. "Sure. I won't drink too much though."

"That's cool. Bill, what about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah," Mabel said, and then she snickered. "Oh man, you seem like you'd be the funniest drunk, too."

Bill regarded her with eyebrows drawn, suspicious. "Alcohol is that thing that's made from rotten fruit and wheat, right?"

"Yup," Mabel said.

He paused to think about it, scrubbing his jaw. Then, he shrugged. "Yeah, I'll give it a go."

Mabel took a brief moment to pump her fist. "Oh man, if this is anything like Mabel Syrup and the caffeine it's gonna be hilarious."

"What happened with the caffeine?" Pacifica asked, but Mabel shook her head.

"I'll tell you on the way. Dipper, Bill, you wanna tag along?"

"Pass," Bill said almost instantly. Dipper thought about it for a moment, but then held up his hand.

"Same here. See you guys later."

"See you."

"Later, bro-bro. Bill, be good."

After exchanging their goodbyes, the girls left for Pacifica's BMW. Dipper could hear them squealing out the driveway. It was shaping up to be a wild evening, especially if they could really get their hands on some vodka. He supposed a wild evening was the only way to end a wild day. A wild vacation, he thought, lips twisting. Mermaids, manatees, kidnapped victims, and Bill had to do yoga. This one was definitely a shoe-in for the history books. Oh, speaking of …

"How was yoga with Pacifica?"

"Hmm?" Bill looked up, slightly dazed. It was clear he had been deep in thought. "Oh, that. Yeah, it was probably the worst experience I've ever submitted myself to. Exercise is awful."

"Really?"

Bill glanced over at him, and his tightened lips indicated he was trying to force down a smile. He sighed. "I guess, it wasn't that bad. Probably would have been better if Blondie wasn't such a rotten teacher. And that's not me being vindictive, I swear it."

"Relax," Dipper chuckled, patting Bill's shoulder. "It's okay. Pacifica's the worst at teaching. She tried to teach me and Mabel yoga too, and I almost ended up dislocating my knee."

Bill frowned, close to a pout, and then looked back down at his twiddling thumbs. Dipper's own smile faded away. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I guess."

"That's good. You're looking a lot better. You looked like a ghost earlier."

A small smirk graced Bill's lips. "I felt like a ghost."

"Yeah … it has been an insanely long weekend, hasn't it?" Again, Dipper was hit by another bout of homesickness. "I hate being away from the Mystery Shack for too long. As a kid, having to leave for school was the worst."

"I can imagine." Dipper turned to Bill, and the small smirk had turned into something wistful. Bill released a deep breath. "Yeah, I wanna go back, too."

"The trip didn't take too much out of you, did it?"

"Nope."

Dipper leaned forward in his seat, trying to figure out how best to say what was on his mind. He licked his lips. "Listen … about what happened after dinner …"

Bill made an exasperated noise, drawing a hand across his face. "Look, Pine Tree, I know you're mad—"

"No, that's not it. I'm not mad anymore, I promise." Bill was shaking his head, clear he didn't believe him. Dipper slid onto the opposite couch, sitting directly across from him. He said as soft as he could manage, "I'm not mad. Look, Bill, we both made some mistakes this weekend. I shouldn't have gotten so angry, especially since it was partly my fault."

"Don't be such a martyr," Bill said with distaste. His voice was rough and low, as if he were incredibly tired. "You said it yourself, Pine Tree, I shouldn't have felt the way I did—"

"I wasn't mad that you felt that way. People get jealous and insecure all the time. I was just … mad how you chose to handle it." Dipper shrugged. "I shouldn't have been ignoring you in the first place, and I shouldn't have gotten so belligerent. So I'm sorry. About what I said, about how I acted.

"And, well, I'm not quite sure how to say this," Dipper continued briskly, unable to get the words out fast enough. "The thing is, you've really done a lot for us lately. Like, a lot a lot. You went out and found us in the middle of the ocean and then you saved us all from those cops. I know you were against this trip from the start, and that you were scared," Bill's nose scrunched up, but Dipper kept talking, "but you still helped us anyway. That's … pretty noble of you."

"Okay, Pine Tree, that's—"

Dipper held up a hand. "Not finished." Bill blinked, and then rolled his eye and settled back down. Dipper smiled softly. "You might not be used to thinking this way, but I don't believe you could do all that for just yourself. Being in that body is changing you in some ways. Big ways. You're a lot better than you were before. No offense."

Dipper expected Bill to make some snarky comment or at least shrug. But Bill didn't say anything. His eyebrows had drawn together, as if he something heavy were on his mind. Dipper released a long sigh, trying to piece together everything else he had to say.

"What I'm trying to get to is that I'm thankful for everything you've done, and that I was hoping we could put all this behind us and, I mean, I dunno … just be friends or something?"

"Friends?" Bill said, eye widening. He brought a hand to his chin. "I don't know, kid, you're asking for a lot here. You'd have better luck asking for my kidney or something."

Ah, there was the sarcasm. Dipper chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. Don't think this isn't weird for me too, Bill."

"Well, gee. You've got me backed into a corner here. If I'm not your friend, I'm in trouble. You cook all my food." Dipper responded with a light kick to Bill's shin, eliciting a whine. Then, Bill lowered his head for a moment, and then glanced back up at him. "You've got my hands tied, kid. Guess we're just gonna have to be friends."

"Guess so." Some of Mabel's words from the other day came back to Dipper, which prompted him to add, "Friends talk to each other about what's bothering them, so … let's try doing that from now on, okay?"

Bill didn't react to that beyond looking down at his hands again, his eyebrows drawing together once more. Dipper could see an internal struggle painted all over his face, but restrained from prodding. He didn't want to risk closing Bill up on him, not now.

But he was rewarded for his patience when Bill said, voice a half whisper, "You know … Blondie made a rather astute observation yesterday."

Dipper leaned forward, intrigued. "What was that?"

"She mentioned how, ah … the physiology of the human brain, and how it typically tends to work. You know, chemicals and stuff. And, uh … it made me realize that I had never had to deal with that as a, um, ethereal being."

Bill paused to take a shuddering breath, and he hugged his knees to his chest.

"And now everything sort of makes sense. Everything feels so different from before. And it … I've always had perfect control over what I thought and how I acted, but ever since getting this body, that's changed. I get angry when I know it'll just make things worse, and sometimes I get uneasy and nervous despite there being no logical reason for it. And the thing with Blondie … it felt like she was better than me at everything, and you guys were so chummy with each other and had been friends for so long. You offered her a place back at the Shack and I thought you were going to replace me with her, and I couldn't think of a good reason of why you shouldn't."

"Bill—"

Bill made a noise of disgust, throwing up his left hand.

"See! This is what I'm talking about." He gestured to his watery eye. "I didn't want to do that! What benefit could I possibly gain from crying right now? None. But I still can't stop it!"

"Bill. It's okay. You're okay."

Bill kissed his teeth and settled back down, vibrating with frustration. "Everything is so much more intense now. Even the anger. And it's … scary. I hate it."

"Well, it's not like you're exactly alone," Dipper muttered, and Bill fixed him with a sharp, wet glare. He shrugged. "It's all a part of being human Bill. Anger, anxiety, loneliness, insecurity … I feel all those things at least fifty times a day." He smiled, hoping to get a chuckle out of Bill. After a second, a stubborn smile broke on Bill's lips and he snorted. It filled his chest with warmth. "But it's not all bad, Bill. There's more to being human than that."

"… I suppose that's true." Wiping his eye, Bill leaned forward towards Dipper again. "You've also got a short lifespan and the inevitability of death, fragile bodies, zero purpose in life—"

"No, Bill. I meant positive things. Take food, for instance. You love food. And then there's music." Dipper smiled, feeling a warm, fuzzy nostalgia. "And there's the smell of cookies fresh from the oven. Sleeping in while it's raining outside. That feeling you get when you make someone smile. Laughing."

"I could laugh before, Pine Tree," Bill mumbled, with much less conviction.

"Ah, but when you laughed, did it trigger endorphins in your brain that made it feel like you were on feel good drugs?"

"I … no," Bill said with a pout. "No it did not."

"All I'm saying, is that there are a lot of simple pleasures that make life worth living. You can experience things like euphoria and happiness and pleasure. Even things like sadness and fear can be good for you too, if you keep them in check. And when things get really bad, you won't be alone. You'll have Mabel and Pacifica and me."

Bill huffed, sitting back in his chair. "That was quite a speech, Pine Tree."

"Heh. I am known for my excellent speeches."

Bill hmm'd thoughtfully.

Dipper didn't feel like sitting down anymore. He could hear the sound of the ocean's waves in the distance, and it gave him an idea. "Hey, you still wanna learn how to swim?"

Bill looked up so fast it seemed like he almost broke his neck. His eye was wide, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. Then he jumped to his feet. "Yes."

Dipper laughed, tickled by Bill's enthusiasm. He stood up as well. "Okay, then. I'll go get some swimsuits—"

"No time for that." Bill had already ripped off his eyepatch and started clawing off his jacket, trying to yank it over his head.

"Uh, okay, I guess that'll work. Just, please keep your pants on, alright?" Dipper unbuttoned his shirt as he made his way towards the pool and tossed it onto the couch. When he looked back, Bill was still fighting his jacket and shirt, his head trapped somewhere in the fabric. "I'm impressed, Bill. You're fighting a shirt and the shirt is winning."

"This isn't the time for games, Pine Tree!" Bill snapped, his voice muffled under the jacket. Dipper walked back towards him. Grabbing the top of his clothes, he yanked it over Bill's head with an audible pop! Bill shook himself and straightened back up, smacking his chest. "Ha! What's impressive now, Pine Tree?"

Dipper tightened his lips, slightly shaking his head. You, Bill. It's still you. His eyes followed where Bill's hand had rested. Dipper hadn't seen Bill shirtless since he had been in the hospital. Back then the scars on his chest had been freshly stitched and looked horrifying. The difference now was substantial. They had faded into a light, dusty pink. They actually looked pretty cool and interesting, going across his chest like that. He looked a lot healthier now, maybe even a little stronger. Those chores must have been doing him some good. Dipper could definitely see some muscle on his back and his—

Bill snapped his fingers just in front of his eyes. "Uh, Pine Tree? Earth to Pines?"

Dipper blinked. Oh God, how long had he been standing there staring? "S-sorry," he said, dragging his hand over his face. Damn, this day must have taken a bigger toll on him than he had first thought. "Come on, let's get started before the girls come back." His pants felt a bit tighter than usual.

It has been a really long day.

"No need to tell me twice." Bill raced towards the pool, snickering. Releasing a long, slow breath, Dipper turned heel a moment later and followed after. Once he reached the edge of the pool, he plugged up his nose and jumped feet first into the pool. The pool heater must have been turned on because it felt like he was swimming in a warm bath.

When he surfaced, he spun around, expecting Bill to be in the water next to him. Instead, he found him still looming on the deck, staring into the water with an unreadable expression.

Dipper swam closer to him. "You coming in or what?" He flicked some water towards his legs. "The temperature's perfect."

Bill looked towards him, and then looked away just as quickly. Then, he said in a voice so soft Dipper almost missed it, "Please don't let me drown."

Dipper chuckled, and then smiled patiently. "Don't worry, I'm not going to let you drown."

"Okay. Good."

Bill settled down on his haunches then dipped his legs into the water one at a time. He tensed when the water hit his stomach, and when he was entirely submerged, he hung onto the wall. He sunk, feet flailing as he tried to ground himself. "Aah. Pine Tree, I can't reach the bottom."

"The shallow section's over there. Shimmy your way over."

Bill did as told, taking his sweet time with it. Dipper swam next to him, endlessly amused by Bill's sudden need to be cautious. When Bill's feet could finally reach the pool floor he released a deep breath, letting go of the wall.

"Okay. Now what?"

Dipper shrugged. "Not sure. How much do you know?" At Bill's blank look, he tried again. "Start with floating on your back."

"How do I do that?"

"Umm. I can't really explain it." Instead, Dipper opted to show him, kicking up his legs and relaxing as the water pushed him up. "Like that. See? Just relax."

"Oh. Okay, uh …" He heard a splash. "Ah, ah—"

Dipper straightened up "You're okay." Bill had done as told. His face was scrunched up as the water crept up his cheeks. "It's okay, human bodies can float. You're fine."

Bill still didn't look reassured. Dipper leaned forward and put his hands underneath Bill's back, holding him up ever so slightly. Bill sighed with relief and opened his eyes a little.

"That's kind of cool, I guess …" he said, a trace amount of panic in his voice.

"Try to relax, Bill …"

Dipper held him like that for a few moments, waiting for Bill to get used to the sensation of floating. Once Bill started breathing evenly again, he figured it was time to move on. "Alright. Now, I want you to start kicking. I'm going to let you go for this, okay?"

"Okay …"

Dipper let go, and Bill flailed for a moment at the loss. But he just as quickly started kicking, splashing Dipper in the face and reeling away.

"See? You're doing great?"

"Yeah. Okay. Okay. Ah. Okay. Okay …"

Bill continued mumbling to himself as he kicked his way across the pool. Dipper figured he'd stop before hitting the wall, but was proven wrong when Bill's head ran smack into the concrete. Bill hissed under his breath, straightening up and rubbing what was sure to become a bump later.

"Well done," Dipper said, smirking.

Bill glared at him. "Thanks for the warning." And it made Dipper a little guilty, but not enough to stop smiling. "What's next?"

"Alright, now you're gonna wanna do that again, but on your stomach …"

They spent the next half hour in the pool together, Dipper teaching Bill basic stroke forms and how to tread water. He noted with some relief that his teaching seemed to be working, as Bill seemed a little more confident. He ran into the wall at least two more times, though, and the second time Dipper laughed so hard Bill retaliated by trying to dunk him. He failed, not even able to budge Dipper out of place, and in return was grabbed and dunked himself. He scrambled out of the water then, spluttering and cursing, and Dipper had to spend ten minutes convincing him he hadn't been trying to drown him before he sulkily returned.

Dipper had been in the middle of teaching Bill how to stay under the water when the girls returned.

Mabel squealed, brandishing a bottle of vodka. "Knock knock, everybody, cousin Ivanov is here to party!" The clear liquid sloshed in the hammer-shaped bottle, obvious that someone had already cracked it open. It wasn't hard to imagine who.

"She took it straight," Pacifica whispered, crouching to the two of them. She held a few other drinks ranging from sodas to cranberry juice. "It was horrifying."

"Mabel, you could have at least tried to pace yourself," Dipper said, pulling himself up onto the pool wall. After a moment, Bill followed suite, though with far less grace and requiring Dipper's help to keep from falling back in. "At this rate by the time the rest of us catch up you'll have already blacked out."

"Don't worry, Dipperdoodle, I'll pace myself. Starting now." Mabel hiccupped, and then sat down next to Pacifica, putting down her bottle and four shot glasses. "But this isn't about me. This is, this is about the uninitiated. Bill!"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Pick your poison," she said, giggling as she gestured to the line of other drinks. "It'll be easier for the vodka to go down if you mix it with something else."

"Uuhh …" Bill glanced over at Dipper, a silent plea for help.

Dipper hummed in thought, bringing a hand to his chin. "Personally I'd go with either the orange or cranberry juice."

Bill shrugged. "Sure. Guess I'll go with the cranberry stuff."

"I'll go with the cranberry, too," said Dipper.

After a moment of thought, Pacifica said, "I'll have the lemon-lime soda."

Mabel nodded. "Excellent."

Taking a few moments to pour everyone's drinks, Mabel gave everyone their glass. Bill's serving was noticeably smaller. "Okay Bill, what you'll wanna do is try to swallow that stuff as fast as you can, alright?"

"Sounds easy enough."

"On three, everybody. One, two … three!"

They all threw back their heads, downing the shot. The liquid burned like acid down Dipper's throat and he gasped upon resurfacing. Bill spat up his drink over the whole party. Everyone covered their faces a moment too late.

"Ew," Pacifica said, wiping the backwash off of her legs.

"Holy … fucking God," Bill snapped, coughing up what sounded like a lung. Dipper patted him on the back. "Are you trying to poison me or something?"

"You didn't swallow fast enough," Mabel said, shaking her head. "Okay, here's what you did wrong. Hold the glass by the bottom, okay, and just throw you head back. Don't even let it touch your tongue, j-just let gravity take care of it." She held up the cranberry bottle. "Wanna try again?"

Bill huffed. "What's the point of this?"

"It makes you feel pretty good," Dipper said, "although you shouldn't drink too much, and you need to drink a lot of water. It doesn't hurt to eat bread, too."

"Trustme, Bill," said Mabel, swaying where she sat. She patted him his knee. "It feels greeaaat."

"Is that so?" Bill looked into his shot glass. Then he sighed and held out his glass. "There's got to be some kind of reward for putting yourself through this. Humans can't be that dense."

"Whoo!" Once again, Mabel refilled everyone's glass and when she returned them, she held up her own. "Again. Three, two, one!"

Dipper hesitated on his drink, instead choosing to watch Bill. Bill had done as Mabel suggested, holding the glass by the bottom. He threw his head back so hard he thought he would fall over into the pool. Bill's expression became pained, but after a second, he gulped.

"You did it!" Mabel cheered, bringing her hands together. With a chuckle, Pacifica started applauding as well. Bill glared at them, as if he wasn't sure they were kidding or not. Dipper smiled softly, and then downed his own drink as well.

"Congratulations, Bill," said Pacifica. "You're now an initiate."

That was enough to make Bill lower his guard, and he smiled ever so slightly.

After Mabel had dished out the third round, she held up her glass. "A toast!" she declared. "To building new bridges!"

"Here, here." Pacifica clinked Mabel's glass to her own.

Dipper nodded, clinking his glass as well. Bill hesitated for a moment, but then brought his glass forward. Mabel whooped and without even prompting anyone, she downed her glass. Dipper shook his head, but quickly did the same. Bill took a bracing breath, and then downed his second drink, his face that of pure agony.

"This better be worth it," he muttered darkly.

"Oh, it will be," said Pacifica, and she winked.

By the time they got to drink four or five, with Dipper forbidding Mabel after her third shot so she wouldn't black out or die, Pacifica suddenly snapped her fingers. "Oh! Mabel, the fireworks."

"Oh!" The last few shots had yet to set in, so Mabel was able to jump to her feet without completely wiping out. It's only a matter a time, Dipper thought. He'd really have to remember to keep everyone hydrated.

As Mabel dashed towards the front of the house, Dipper turned to Bill. "How are you feeling, man?"

"I don't know. Kind of warm, I guess?" He paused to take a long drink of his cranberry juice, collecting his thoughts. "It feels kind of like that drug the hospital gave me after the rougaru incident. That's not necessarily a bad thing, by the way."

"Oh, the rougaru incident," Pacifica said with intrigue. "You mentioned that earlier. What happened?"

"It's a long story, Blondie," Bill replied, sounding like a tired old man. He brought the fifth drink to his lips, but Dipper gently pressed his hand back down.

"You're gonna wanna go easy on that. I think you've had enough for now."

"But I don't feel that different, Pine Tree. This suffering isn't going to be for nothing."

"Give it time. It takes a few minutes to settle. You'll be feeling it soon, trust me."

"Okay, okay," Pacifica said, pulling herself onto her knees and leaning forward, "but what happened with the rougarus?"

"Alright, Blondie, here's what happened. It all started when this nitwit over here—"

"But who cares about that?" They all looked up to Mabel walking back onto the patio, carrying an armload of frighteningly large fireworks. She dumped it onto the concrete, and held her hands high above her head. "Uncle Sam came to visit and he wants to blow. Shit. Up!"

"Please don't blow anything up," Pacifica said in a wobbly voice. "Fire doesn't really go with those curtains."

"Okay, Pacifica. Wink wonk." Mabel started giggling, and then belched. She then threw her arms out. "Enough of this chitchat, let's light these babies! Dipper, c-could you get me the lighter please?"

Dipper nodded, and then pushed himself onto his feet. Bill got up next to him, but then almost lost his balance. Dipper put his hand up, although it proved unnecessary when Bill was able to catch himself.

"Whoa, whoa … okay …" Bill blinked, and then shook himself. "The world kind of went swirly for a moment."

And Dipper chuckled, smirking. "You're going to feel real good in a few minutes. Here," ducking down he scooped up the water bottle. "Stay hydrated. You're gonna want that for tomorrow morning."

"Why? W-what happens tomorrow morning?"

"If you drink enough water, hopefully nothing. But Mabel's right," Dipper said before Bill could get a word in edgewise, "enough chitchat. Let's go set off some fireworks."

"Hmph." Bill rubbed his hands together, a wide grin on his lips. "Giant pretty explosions and fire? You're speaking my language, Pine Tree."

…

The party proceeded without a hitch. The fireworks that the girls had bought were dazzling and beautiful. And, the best part, Bill was well and truly drunk.

"—so while fuckin Dipshit over here was, was standing there with his thumb up his ass," Bill was saying, sitting on the couch next to Pacifica. The pupil in his left eye was blown open wide, "this giant hairy werewolf knockoff was charging at him, so fuck, what the fuck was I supposed to do, just let him, just stand there while his insides become outsides, no, because I knew Mab- I knew, Ssssssshooting Star would turn me into a fuckin taxidermy doll. So I jump into the fray and kicked his flat ass out of there."

"You sacrificed yourself for h-him." There were tears in Pacifica's eyes and her voice trembled with emotion. She sniffed, rubbing her eyes. She, too, was hopelessly drunk. "You almost died for him, that's the most romantic thing I've ever heard—!" She leaned forward, throwing almost all her weight onto Bill's knee. "I'm so sorry I punched you …"

Bill pushed her away with visible disgust. "You are not sorry, you liar."

"Yeah … yeah, you're right. S-s-so what happlened, what happened after that?"

Dipper, who was by far the most sober one there, listened to the conversation, lips curling with amusement. He refrained himself from correcting Bill on a few points during his story, like when he said Dipper had shit his pants at the sight of the perytons, because the two of them probably wouldn't remember this exchange anyway. And it was nice seeing Pacifica and Bill getting along one-on-one, although there was still a fine layer of bitterness and snark. Still, progress was progress.

Dipper's thoughts were interrupted when a jet of water jabbed him in the back of the head. He whirled around to a wobbling Mabel training a purple water gun at him.

"I declare WATER GUN WAR!" she screamed, pelting Bill and barely missing Pacifica, who had dived under the couch. "TAKE NO PRISONERS. EVERY PERSON FOR THEMSELVES."

Pacifica peeked over the head of the couch. "Only a war lawfully declared, by a gggggovernment with the authority to declare war, can be a just war, Mabel."

"I HAVE ALL OF THE AUTHORITY!"

"Pine Tree, what is happening?" Bill asked, having yet to move from his seat on the couch, despite Mabel pelting him two or three more times. His hair, recently dried, had become soaked again.

Dipper grabbed Bill's wrist and yanked him onto the floor, where he barreled into Dipper's chest and almost fell down on the ground. "We're under attack. Find a water gun. Every person for themselves."

"Wait—"

But Dipper had already dashed out from behind the couch, barely able to dodge Mabel's jets of water, though that was probably more likely to do with her drunken accuracy than his ninja skills. He joined Pacifica near the pool bin. When Mabel had to break for a refilling, Pacifica tore open the bin, passing Dipper his own bright red water gun.

"I hope I don't see you on the battlefield," Pacifica said. Dipper leaned his head forward in a serious manner. Then the two of them raced for the pool, but Dipper was able to reload slightly faster than her. When he straightened up and bombarded her with water, she squealed. "After all I did for you," she cried, instantly retaliating and pelting Dipper in the forehead. He had forgotten how good drunk Pacifica's aim was.

Mabel appeared in his peripheral vision. "En Garde!" And she attacked him with more water. The war went on until Mabel had wandered too close and tripped. When Pacifica tried to catch her, they both went down into the pool.

Mabel surfaced, spluttering up the chlorine water. "Augh! My sweater! This is just too much."

"I think one of my earrings popped off," Pacifica said, inspecting the side of her face. Dipper had been gripped by an intense, debilitating laughter and he held his sides, almost crying. "Yuk it up, Dipdop. Now act like a gentleman and help us up."

Dipper had to take a moment to recover from his laughing, wiping his eyes. "I think you two can handle that yourselves, thanks."

Pacifica snorted, and the two of them swam towards the pool's edge. But just as they pulled themselves up, a bright, flashing light and a loud whizz! made them look over. Bill was standing in front of the bin, holding a … was that a flare gun?

"WATER IS FOR WIMPS. I AM YOUR GOD OF FIRE AND CHAOS!"

With a loud swear, Dipper dove out of the way as Bill shot another flare. It missed by a mile, but Bill was still laughing.

"KNEEL, MORTALS!"

"Bill, are you crazy—" Mabel screamed as Pacifica hoisted the two of them to their feet, muttering, "Go, go, go, go, go—"

The three of them ran out of the patio and down towards the beach. Dipper hid under the stairs as the other two scattered. He could hear Bill's footsteps as he plodded down the stairs, tripped, and fell onto his face in the sand. The only thing that seemed to be worse than his aim was his balance.

"Did I win the gun game, guys?" he called after scrambling back to his feet. He cupped his hands together. "I won, right? Whoo! Guys? Where'd you go?" He hiccupped. "Come on, guys, I wasn't actually trying to hit you. Don't be mad. Quit your fleeing and start praising me! …guys?"

Bill stumbled, his knees brushing the sand as he tried to catch himself. He sniffled, seeming distressed. "Guuuuys, please come back. Don't just leave me all alo— Wait." Bill halted in his tracks, shoulder rigged with tension. "The fortune... 'Your friends will run away in fear and you will be alone'. Is this...?"

A pause. Then, Bill surprised Dipper when he threw the flare gun onto the ground and started kicking at the sand.

"That's stupid! That's really stupid! So this is it, huh?" he screamed at the sky. "This is that foreboding vision of the future? This is what I was worried about all this time? I can't believe I let myself get teased by that con artist. Talk about spinning a headline. I bet all her fortunes are this same dumb crap. All that money down the drain! I might have already done one and missed it. Fuck that lady, fuck, fuck her, fucking fuck—"

As Bill was caught up in his tirade, Dipper crept out of his spot from underneath the stairs. He wasn't concerned about getting caught now that Bill had disarmed himself, but he still tried to be stealthy. But, through some unknown, paranormal means, Bill was able to sense him and he turned around. Without giving Dipper time to brace himself, he let out a strangled cry and threw himself at him, colliding into his chest. Light as the contact might have been, Dipper found himself toppling over into the sand.

"Dipplerrr," Bill said, face buried in Dipper's bare shoulder. Dipper shook his head, pushing himself into a half-reclined position. Bill was doing nothing to support his own weight, and his slightly warmer than average body temperature was throwing him through a loop. "Hey, hey, Prine Tee, Pri- hey, youuu, you definitely should … Thids alcohol thing is pretty swell. You should add it to that list of yours."

Dipper's face had gone red from how hard he was fighting down his laughter. And, well, other things. Mostly the alcohol. Mostly the half-naked man draped over him. "What list?"

"You know. That cookies and smiles list. All this … thiss … is definitely a pro in fleshbag's favor."

Dipper sighed, shaking his head. At least Bill was having a good time, a good time that didn't involve maiming something else. He might not feel this way tomorrow, though. Which reminded him. "Come on, Bill, you should probably get some water."

"Kay."

Dipper tried helping Bill to his feet, but Bill's legs had finally given up on him. He couldn't stand up straight if he tried. In the end, in a bout of frustration, Dipper swiped his hand under Bill's knees and lifted him up. Bill's head lolled onto his shoulder and he mumbled under his breath as Dipper carried him up the stairs.

By the time he reached the back patio, Bill had started snoring. He was asleep.

Dipper let him rest.

…

Even though the clock indicated that Bill had slept for a solid thirteen hours, when he woke up the next morning he still felt tired and achy to the bone. His mouth felt dry and when he flipped off the covers and tried to hop out of bed, his world tilted on an axis. What manner of fresh hell was this?

He heard voices and clattering dishes down the hall. They led him to the kitchen, where Pacifica was leaning against the counter sipping a smoothie and Dipper and Mabel were sitting at the bar, eating bacon and eggs. Dipper waved him over. They were all fully dressed.

"Welcome back to the world of the living," he said. "Everything's packed. Eat some breakfast and we can head out."

Bill nodded, and the smell of bacon reminded him that, yes, he was starving. As he approached the bar, however, a long, low growl caught his attention. Mabel has resting her head on the table, hiding her face in her arms. A glass of water with a capsule of pills next to it rested by her elbow. She sounded like she was dying.

"This is what happens when you don't keep yourself hydrated while drinking," Dipper said, making no effort to hide his smug grin. Mabel groaned, and then reached over to punch him, only to groan again and curl back up even tighter than before.

Bill reflected on his own wooziness and slight nausea, and supposed it could always be worse. "Noted. Now pass me some of those eggs."

Bill wolfed down his breakfast at lightning speeds, asking for seconds, and then thirds. Pacifica provided him his food, shaking her head all the while. "If you throw up all over my floor," she said after the fourth helping, glaring daggers, "I'm going to mop it up with your hair."

"Relax, Blondie, I would never waste food like that. It's too important."

"Yeah, I'll bet."

With breakfast done, Bill went to go change into comfortable driving clothes. Upon returning to the kitchen he got into an argument with Dipper on whether his Month of Cleaning Dishes Pass started now or when they got back to the Shack. By the time they finished Pacifica had already tended to everything. Bill would've considered it a victory if she hadn't grinded her knuckle into both of their heads, but he supposed it was a small price to pay for getting out of chores.

Once 2 o'clock rolled in, they were ready to go. It was reassuring that they wouldn't be doing the whole trip in one go this time. They had a motel room booked about halfway through, for which Bill was immensely grateful.

The other three were exchanging their goodbyes. Mabel, who was holding an icepack to her head, extended her other arm out. "Group hug!"

Bill held up his hands, taking a step back. "I think I'll have to pass on that—"

Too late, Dipper already grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him into the fray. He could only stand there and bite back a groan as they all squashed him on both sides. Just a little bit longer. You've survived worse than this. Don't do or say anything stupid.

"God, I'm going to miss you guys so much," Pacifica said as she pulled away. "It's been such a drag this last year."

"We'll see each other again soon," said Mabel. "You're still coming up for Thanksgiving this year, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Good luck on your art auction," Dipper said. "You're going to do great, I'm positive."

"Thanks, Dip. I'll let you guys know how it turns out." Dipper nodded, and then Pacifica turned towards Bill. "Well, Bill. It's been …"

"A train wreck?" Bill offered.

"Interesting," she finished, and she smiled. "Here, I wanted to give you this."

She pulled a small hardback book out of her purse and handed it over to him. Bill flipped it over, blinking. Yoga and Meditation in Daily Life. "I, uh … thanks, I guess."

She shrugged. "I figured it couldn't hurt." Then, her expression blanked for a moment. Without warning, she leaned forward and gathered him into a tight hug. He didn't even have time to sidestep it. Damned humans and their sentimentality. He didn't know if he should break away or return the hug, so he just stood there, tense and awkward.

"Good luck with everything, Cipher," she said, thumping him on the back. Then, she suddenly tightened her grip, and Bill choked on a gasp. "It's good to see you on the straight and narrow. Now, you better look after my old friends or I'll send the CIA after you."

"Okay, Blondie, okay, please, the sunburn …"

Pacifica released him a moment later, smiling and patting his shoulder as if she hadn't just threatened him with incarceration. She turned to the twins. "Have a safe drive, you two."

"Thanks. We'll call you once we get to the motel, alright?"

"Please do."

The three of them filed into the Pines' Honda. Dipper sat in the front seat with Mabel as the passenger. She was clutching her head, reading a letter in her lap. It must have been a bottle message that was delivered this morning. A small smile pricked her lips, and she held the letter to her chest. Good news, Bill supposed as he climbed into the back

Bill watched as Pacifica waved from the sloping driveway, her many necklaces glinting in the sunlight and her sundress swishing in the gentle breeze. She may be an oxymoronic rich hippie with a self-centered attitude, he thought as they drove down the street, Pacifica becoming smaller and smaller until she vanished over the hill. He settled back down in his seat, and sighed. But she helps where she's needed.

He supposed the twins didn't deserve a better friend.

Friends …

Bill leaned up against the window, staring at the flickering San Diego scenery. What a trip. Before all this, he didn't think anything would be able to get him back into the Mindscape, the collective conscience between dimensions. The risks were just too great. But being there, wielding complete and utter dominance over his and everyone's reality … Nothing even compared to the sense of fullness it gave him.

Having been so close to what he used to be like, all-powerful and terrifying, only to have it ripped away was unimaginably painful. Having to return to his human body after such an experience left him feeling like a small, sad, boring husk. His soul itched with the urge to return to that state where he had no rules and no restrictions, where he had control over himself and everything. It took every ounce of his willpower to remind himself of the risks, to remind himself why it will never be worth it.

He reflected on Dipper's impromptu speech from last night, and he frowned.

Smiles. Laughter. Friends.

Is that really all it takes to make this life worth living, Pine Tree?

He tore himself away from the window. He needed a distraction.

He examined the cover of the book Pacifica gave him and instantly tossed it aside. It would take a life or death situation to get him to pick that back up. The games on his phone were still boring, he wasn't interested in listening to any music, and he didn't feel like starting a conversation.

He figured now was as good a time as any to continue on his logbooks. But as he settled the journal on his lap and readied his pen in his left hand, he found he couldn't bring himself to write anything. Just the thought of continuing to document the events of the destruction of the Pillars of Creation gave him a massive headache.

You know … all that nature of the universe stuff sounds like a total headache to write. Pacifica's voice came floating back to him. Why not make a diary out of it?

He flicked his pen through his fingers, thoughts racing a thousand miles ahead. Free writing? I could … write about whatever I wanted?

It's great for organizing your head.

Hmm …

His hand reached towards the paper as if it had a mind of its own. He doodled circles and lines for a few minutes, loosening up the ink. When the words came to his mind, he began writing them down.

No idea how to start this stupid thing.

I guess the beginning would as good a place to start as any.

So there I was, a mind-bending demon from beyond space, lying naked there on the floor. I had two former nuisances of mine gawking at me...

The words flowed more easily to him than any entry he had ever made.