The first things he felt were black fingers lacing themselves in his hair, pulling his head up and forcing him to look at the creature who was tormenting him.

Of course it was Bill. Bill who was now staring at him, a look in his eye that Ford was completely uncomfortable with. Bill's eye was hungry, his hands possessive, his body close to Ford. So close... so, so, so... close... Close enough that Ford felt Bill's eyelashes brush against his face when Bill blinked.

He couldn't help but shudder when another hand of Bill's caressed his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, determined that none of this would affect his decision to remain silent. He would not give Bill any satisfaction. Not with the dome, not with his physical response. If he didn't know better, he'd say he could feel Bill breathe on him. There was a circle of hot, moist air on the edges of his face, which only made sense as Bill's breath (if he even needed such a thing) since Bill's eye doubled as his mouth... and he didn't have a nose...

Wait. Was the circle getting smaller? Was Bill's eye getting closer to Ford's mouth?

Pressing his lips together tightly Ford tried to turn his face away from his tormentor, but a rough hand on his chin prevented that from happening. Bill chuckled, seeming to come from every side of Ford. This was bad. This was bad. Ford was an idiot. Stan was right... Oh, how right Stan had been... Ford should have left the paranormal alone... He wished he had never heard of Gravity falls.

He waited for the kiss that never came. He felt a third hand start to rub circles into his shoulders, and tried to flinch out of its reach. Bill was chuckling again, and Ford almost wanted to look at him. Almost.

"You know Sixer, if this was thirty years ago you'd have been eating this up." Bill said, the hand in Ford's hair beginning to massage his scalp. Ford suppressed a whimper and squeezed his eyes and lips tighter together. A fourth hand reached Ford's back and the man completely froze. This wasn't happening... This wasn't happening... This wasn't... This couldn't...

Just before Bill could go too far a loud noise started to blare around them. It was loud, repetitive, high-pitched, and, if Ford did say so himself, sounded almost exactly like that infernal alarm clock Stan had got him when they were on the Stan O' War... Wait a second...

Ford's eyes flew open.

This time, instead of being met with Bill's eye, way too close to him for comfort, he was met with the wooden ceiling of the Shack. He let out a shaky sigh of relief before slamming his right hand down on the rectangular alarm clock resting on his side table.

His chest rose and fell in a fast pace, his blood pressure steadily creeping up. Axolotl he could still feel Bill's hands. They were everywhere... Oh, Axolotl help him... Pushing himself up on his elbows he stared at the other end of his room.

His ex-private study had been turned into his bedroom after his old one had been claimed by Soos' Abuelita, but it still held all of his non-Bill research papers. The sight of his room helped calm him down a bit, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough. A rush of blood went to his cheeks. The feeling of the imaginary hands was growing fainter, but the memory of the dream still pounded in his mind. It was a dream... Just a dream... Just a dream... By why did it feel so freakin' real?

Because it was real. Once upon a time.

Slipping out of bed, not bothering to make it or even change, Ford left his room, rubbing his sweater-covered arms and trying to erase the memory of Bill's touch (however imaginary) from them, to little avail.

He rode the elevator up to the main floor, and stepped into a gift shop that was covered in streamers. Oh right... the kids... Ford's cheeks burned even more scarlet at the thought of his niece or nephew finding out about his dream.

He had no idea what their reaction would be. Probably disgust, shame, and embarrassment for being related to such a freak who would let someone like that anyone near them. Fear, and anger (especially from Dipper) would also be mixed in that. He knew what Stan would do, ridicule would definitely be in his future.

So he formulated a plan to drink his sorrows away with a large pot of coffee. Stepping into the 'Employees only' area he quickly made his way to the kitchen, still trying to ignore the pink doilies scattered through his living room.

The door to the kitchen swung open without the squeak he had gotten used to the last summer. Soos had really fixed the Shack up well, Ford was really sort of proud of his friend/nephew thingie. The kitchen had been touched up (why was Soos so much better at taking care of Ford's house than both Stan and Ford?) and Ford had half gotten across the room before he noticed its other occupant.

Sitting at the kitchen table was Mabel, a stuffed tiger in one arm, and a glass of Mabel-juice in her other hand. Ford froze, staring at his thirteen-year-old niece. His blush returned. Speak of the devil... Ugh... Ford, you're making this awkward. It's just the girl whose brother you tried to steal from her... Yeah...

"Greetings Grunkle Ford," she said quietly, staring at him with a skeptical gaze (could she read his thoughts? The image of Bill, running his hands through his hair, down his spine, on his... No! Stop that!). He flushed further, and she cocked an eyebrow at him. "Oh... Yes... Hello Mabel... Good morning." He responded as Mabel watched him questioningly.

The girl waved a hand at an already full pot of coffee. "I knew you'd be up soon, so I made some coffee for you. Really dark! Like your soul!" If Ford had had something in his mouth he would have spat it out, but since the only thing that he had eaten had been air he simply choked. Mabel laughed a bit, smiling at him. "Just kidding..." she said with a bright grin, one that made Ford almost sigh with relief. Then her face turned serious and she added, "Or am I?" She wiggled her eyebrows at him, and Ford had a momentary panic attack before sighing in relief.

"Good. I thought you might have stumbled upon my secret." he said, pulling the largest white mug out of the cabinet. Mabel smiled wider, "Oh no Grunkle Ford, I know all your secrets. All of them." She wiggled her fingers at him, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. Please be lying... Please...

Seeing how white his face grew the girl dropped the act almost instantly. "No way. You do have a secret!" she said in a disbelieving tone. "Grunkle Ford... Do you have a girlfriend?" The notion was ridiculous, but one that was on par with what Mabel would suggest. So instead of taking it to heart Stanford simply shook his head before pouring some coffee into his mug. Mabel humphed at his silence and disinclination. "That would have been perfect." she said in a grumpy voice, and Ford couldn't help but chuckle at her.

And his chuckle sounded exactly like Bill's.

He blanched again. He could feel a hand laced in his hair, pulling it to an almost painful degree. He could feel how difficult it was to keep his lips sealed. Oh please... Not in front of Mabel... Please...

"Grunkle Ford? Are you okay?" A new hand was touching him, not as warm as Bill's, and not with the intention to... to... to do whatever Bill had done to Ford. This hand was small, and gripping his own hand completely platonically. He looked down at Mabel, love filling his eyes. "Yes. I'm fine Mabel. Just had a nightmare." He was lucky Mabel was holding the hand that wasn't wrapped around his cup or he would have slapped it over his mouth. He had not meant to say that.

The look Mabel gave him held no humor in it anymore. Suddenly she looked way older than the girl Ford had shaken hands with nearly a year ago. "Oh Grunkle Ford..." she breathed, grabbing his arm, gently as to not spill his coffee, or to not scare him with sudden movements. "I'm so sorry. Do you want to talk about it?" She didn't press him when he silently shook his head again. "Okay," she said, giving his arm one last squeeze. "Let me know if you ever do. I know what those are like."

Please don't cry... Please don't cry...

At this point, Ford wasn't sure if he was thinking it for Mabel, or himself.

This was originally posted on AO3 under the same name. I edited a bit of this before posting it so if you've read this from there you should be able to spot the changes.

This story was bred from my terrible reading habits and an overactive imagination. Plus my crazy desire for angst. I don't know why but I like angst and drama and ptsd and junk. So... yeah... This story goes dark (if the start of this doesn't tell you that). It doesn't go too graphic, but I've been told it provides an accurate depiction of depression and the desire to attempt suicide, so consider yourself warned.

I'd like to say that Ford is going to be fine... which he will be! I'm not that terrible... But he goes through a really dark time in this. Luckily his family is going to be with him every step of the way! If he let's them...

Have a wonderful day!

-BrilliantLight