The next day, Ford once again felt like a ghost wandering around what used to be his house, but for entirely different reasons.

It was made clear to him from the moment he set foot upstairs that morning, when he'd finished sealing and in other ways securing the rift, that he was persona non grata.

Everyone either avoided or openly ignored him. Even Wendy and Soos had apparently been informed of current events at some point; therefore he wasn't greeted by Soos's typical "Oh hey, Other Mr. Pines" when the handyman walked past him in the hallway, and Wendy, who already spent most of her time completely uninterested in him, appeared to be doing so with more...hostility than usual.

The only person who acknowledged his presence at all was Mabel, and it was by giving him a few dark glares when she thought he wasn't looking. Dipper's reaction was even worse: the moment Ford set foot in the kitchen where everyone else was eating breakfast, the boy picked up his plate and swiftly moved to the living room.

For a minute all Ford could do was stand there numbly-then, with an uncomfortable twisting feeling in his gut, he went to the fridge, grabbed an apple, and retreated downstairs.

Ford was definitely not sulking.

To the untrained eye, someone might assume that he was doing so, since he was hid-sitting in his study, at his desk, arms folded, glaring at nothing.

It would be a ridiculous assumption, of course-he was just lost in thought wondering where he'd gone wrong with Dipper yesterday, and what he could do to fix it, and feeling a slight amount of resentment over how unfair it was that everyone had suddenly turned against him. Which was completely different from sulking. Because-because it just was, okay?

The boys words echoed in his head, over and over:

"How can you do that to him?"

"You can keep your dumb mysteries."

"She is not suffocating. She's my sister."

"You could just stay with us until you earned enough money to get a place nearby or something, Grunkle Stan!"

Ford's fingers dug into his arms, trying to make them stop trembling.

Of course the kids would ultimately side with Stanley. He was the normal one who could actually fit in with other people, who could've been very popular in high school if he hadn't hung around to annoy Ford all the time and be his personal bodyguard when bullies tried to-

For heavens' sake, he shouldn't be letting this nonsense get to him! He had more important things to be worried about than his own bruised ego and the pettiness of two children-like the potential end of the world, if Bill got his greedy little hands on the rift!

...Which had been securely covered in sealant, and was unlikely to be broken even by a blast from a science fiction-type laser cannon (he knew from experience that that was more probable than you'd think).

Well, there was protecting the house from Bill's influence to worry about-

No, no, Mabel had taken care of that by retrieving all that unicorn hair for him.

Ford, unable to sit still any longer, got up and started pacing around the room, trying to lose himself in calculating the digits of pi, which sometimes worked for clearing his thoughts when he got too worked up.

This time it did nothing to drive away the image in his mind of the hurt that had been in his nephew's eyes and voice.

The shunning continued every time Ford went upstairs over the next two days.

He almost wanted to pick another fight with Stanley, so at least somebody would be talking to him again and he could blow off some steam.

Idly the thought occurred to him that by now he could probably draw an accurate sketch of the back of his brother's head from memory, since that was all he could see of him whenever he was in his presence.

He actually found himself doing so in his journal, before scratching it out in annoyance. He threw down his pen and groaned into his hands.

It was becoming evident to him that he was never going to feel any peace unless he at least tried to clear things with-

He'd start with Dipper.

Yeah, that seemed easiest.

Try to talk to Dipper.

Tentatively, Ford stepped through the door into the main part of the house. He peered around, and tried to guess where his nephew might be. The likely options, based on the time of day and his observations of the areas Dipper frequented most, were either his room, which meant potentially encountering Mabel, or the living room, which meant potentially encountering Stan. He knew which of those options he'd prefer to handle; on the other hand, the living room was closer to his current position. On the other other hand, perhaps Dipper wasn't in the house at all, and he should check outside for him before trying either of them-

Dipper stepped into the hallway out of the living room, about to turn in the direction of the kitchen when his eyes landed on Ford.

For a moment the boy's shoulders tightened, before he quickly turned away, ready to continue his journey without acknowledging his uncle's presence.

"Dipper, wait."

He froze in the doorway, hands clenching into trembling fists at his side-but at least he was staying still for the moment.

Ford cleared his throat, and said before he could lose his nerve, "I-I'm sorry for what I said. About Mabel. I-suppose I was projecting my own problems onto you two, and that wasn't fair to either of you. I'm sorry."

Ford waited for some kind of response, hands tucked in his coat pockets. Just when he was starting to think he wasn't going to get one, Dipper said softly, "I'm not the one you really need to apologize to, Great Uncle Ford."

Slowly he turned around to face him. His expression was not angry or cold, so much as it was...resolute.

"Grunkle Stan messed up a lot of things for you, but he spent the next thirty years trying to fix it. And you haven't."

With that, he turned back around and finished his journey into the kitchen.

Wha-trying to-

What does he think I was doing the whole time I was in the multiverse-sitting around and watching grass grow?!

It took Ford a moment to work through his knee-jerk anger and consider that maybe Dipper wasn't talking about his trying to fix his horrendous mistake in trusting Bill. Instead he was talking about-

No. Never. I have nothing to apologize for, all he's ever done is get in the way of my goals! He's the one who should apologize to me for-!

Have you given him any reason to think you'd listen to him if he did?

Ford blinked in surprise at his own thought. But...well, it was a shockingly valid question. Maybe Stan didn't think he'd accept an apology. Heck, Ford wasn't sure if he was ready to accept an apology.

...But this was important to Dipper. (And maybe, deep down, several layers beneath his skin, it was kind-of sort-of maybe important to him too.)

So, with fresh resolution in his heart, Ford went looking for his twin.

When it comes to the Pines family, sometimes you just need to tell, not show, if you want to get an idea through their stupid stubborn thick skulls &*$$%##-

*Deep breath, deep breath*

I'm okay.