I've decided that I'm going to try using music for some of these chapters, so the one for this chapter is 'Padmé's Ruminations' from Star Wars Episode Three: Revenge of the Sith.

For the next few weeks Dipper lay in bed, fast asleep in a deep coma. Rambeau said that there was no way of estimating just how long it would last, since they were unfamiliar with memory gun induced brain damage. Apparently it would be a few months at least, but the chances of him not coming round within half a year were slim.

Mabel had spent the first week or so in a hospital bed, due to the fact that she'd offered to give Dipper some of her blood (they had the same type, and he lost a lot of his when he blacked out), which had rendered her weak for the first few days. She'd recovered fairly quickly and was out of hospital within the week. She wanted to spend more time by Dipper's side, but the hospital was incredibly strict on visiting hours, which had only dampened her spirits more.

Her birthday had passed without much acknowledgement, she hadn't been in the mood to celebrate. It would feel wrong to have it without Dipper anyway, so she'd told everyone to keep the presents so they could have a big celebration when Dipper got his memories back. She'd become much quieter since Weirdmageddon, as without her twin to support her, she felt empty. She'd become selectively mute, talking very rarely. On occasion, she'd talk to Stan or Candy or Grenda, sometimes even Wendy. But when she did, her voice conveyed nothing but bitterness and depression. She was at rock bottom now, and it seemed like nothing could change that.

Every time she went into Dipper's ward she'd find a new set of balloons strung onto his bed, another 'get well soon' card on the table. She found them pretty tacky and condescending; almost as if the people who sent them were laughing as they did. She'd read them all, and each time they only served as a stinging reminder that Dipper wouldn't remember any of them when he woke up.

Ford had locked himself away in his lab, seldom emerging from it. He couldn't bring himself to go and visit Dipper; it hurt too much. This was his fault, and his alone. He'd been looking over every medical book on brain trauma he could find, scouring every page for a possible way to fix his mistakes. Each time he came away with nothing, and after one too many failures, he resigned himself to a different, more familiar one. It had been weeks since summer ended, but the twins' parents still hadn't called. Even when Stan had tried calling them, they hadn't picked up. Ford was sure that it had something to do with Bill, the demon had gained control over time after all. 'I have various viable hypothesise,' he'd said to Stan, who'd then leaned over to Wendy and whispered, 'That's what scientists say when they don't know squat.'

Ford had a good laugh at that, and a much needed one too. He hadn't laughed that hard in years, barring the many times he'd been drunk out of his mind on alien booze, at which point even the slightest thing seemed funny. He'd finally gathered the strength to venture out of the Shack and trek over to the border, where he found something rather curious. When he got there, he barged right into it. Usually it didn't stop humans from leaving, so something had changed. He managed to narrow his many hypothesise down to two over the course of a week or so, through various tests and educated guesses. The first was that the barrier might react accordingly to the amount of weirdness in the Falls; i.e, when Weirdmageddon happened, it absorbed some of Bill's energy in order to keep him in, and was still in the process of expelling it. The second was far more worrying, and far more likely.

Because of course it was.

He knew that Bill had killed Time Baby (it was mentioned during one of his many torture sessions), so it was possible that the time lord's death had sent out a ripple through time, a phenomenon well known in the multiverse for creating time dilation between dimensions. It was possible that the barrier wasn't what was keeping them in at all, it was in fact an entirely different barrier that marked the edge of the dilation zone. Presumably, it could only stretch out as far as the border of the town, hence why it aligned with it to a T. He'd have to do some more tests to be sure, but he had a strong suspicion that it was the latter.

Stan had fared better than the rest, at least on the outside. He didn't show his grief; he'd always been taught that a real man bottles up his emotions and that the only ones he could let out were excitement and anger. He went about his daily routine as usual, selling crappy merchandise to the townspeople, all while they were still trying to process Weirdmageddon. It was a scummy thing to do, but the hospital bills were through the roof right now, so he was ready to cross some lines he told himself that he never would. It reminded him of a saying he'd heard once as a child, one that he'd passed off as nonsense.

All men have a line they do not cross, but when things get desperate, their idea of the greater good will prevail.

Only now did he realise how accurate it was as he once again ventured into the criminal underworld and did dirty work for people he'd like to put a bullet or two in. He knew that he couldn't contact the outside world, so calling in some old favours wasn't really an option. This was especially a problem when it came to Mabel; she barely talked anymore, her chipper and lively attitude gone. He'd tried every therapist in town, but it never worked. Nothing seemed to. Not even visiting Dipper, it just made her feel more guilty. But even so, Stan swore he could hear her heart cracking two every time the doctors said that they had to go.

He did everything he could to be a responsible parent for the time being, but seemed as though the best he could do just wasn't enough. That was nothing new to him of course.

Because it was exactly how he felt evert time Pa shouted at him for failing some test, even when he'd tried his hardest.

It just wasn't enough.

Wendy had reacted similarly to Stan; pretending that everything was fine even though this was the most not fine she'd been in years. The last time that was even comparable was when her mother died, but that was a memory she tried her best not to dwell on for too long. She practically lived at the Mystery Shack now, for a multitude of reasons. The first was to make sure that the Pines were alright, the second being so they could make sure she was alright (it also gave her an excuse to not have to deal with her brothers, and that's a deal she'd take in a heartbeat). She spent most of her time making sure the Mystery Shack didn't burn down, cooking food, and generally being the only responsible 'adult' around that had enough morale to get out of bed in the morning. Mabel and Soos moped around all day doing nothing in particular, Stan was working constantly and Ford hadn't talked to them for longer than five minutes since they fist went to the hospital. She and Stan were the only ones with enough mental fortitude to actually do anything. She found that they were working together much more than usual, and was surprised at how much she enjoyed his company.

Soos had rejected Stan's offer to take ownership of the Shack for the time being, which was probably wise considering that he had worn actual clothes exactly zero times since Weirdmageddon and had been moping around the Shack in his pyjamas the whole time. He wished he could contact Melody, but as communications with the outside world were down, that was a no-go. She might've been able to help comfort him, but for now, he felt broken. He was separated from his soulmate, and he hadn't talked to his Pterodactyl BroTM for months. Mabel rarely spoke to anyone, and Stan wasn't in the mood for a conversation like that yet.

Three months had passed since Weirdmageddon, and Dipper still hadn't woken up. The good news was that statistically, he wouldn't be asleep for much longer, at least according to Dr Rambeau. It wasn't much, but it was a glimmer of hope in Mabel's otherwise dark and lonely mind.

Dr Diane Richardson was an odd woman. She wore fairly smart clothes – a simple white cardigan with jeans – and a bright tie die scarf around her neck that didn't match in the slightest. She had a huge mound of dark, golden brown hair that was tied into a ponytail whilst some wild, tangled tufts hung down the side of her face. He bright green eyes were framed by stark white octagonal glasses that perfectly juxtaposed her office, which – whilst not dirty – was incredibly messy. There were folders strewn across her desk, the old filing cabinet in corner practically bursting at the seams. A navy blue shag carpet covered the floor, material aged and worn right under the places she wheeled her office chair more than any. The walls were a simple grey, with a white flower pattern coating them. A fan hung down from the ceiling, spinning far too slowly to provide any kind of breeze. Diane cursed under her breath as she dug though her desk drawers, and after a few minutes of searching, she found the file she was looking for, namely the one marked 'Mabel Pines.'

It was fairly thick, which was concerning given how it had apparently been only a matter of months since she'd developed these issues. The list was as surprising as it was lengthy, detailing the various mental issues the girl faced. From top to bottom, it read:

Severe PTSD due to Weirdmageddon NEVER MIND ALL THAT

Guilt complex

Depression

Selectively mute

Possible causes:- comatose brother, apparently tricked into causing Weirdmageddon NEVER MIND ALL THAT

The doctor sighed and looked up at the girl, producing a pen and notepad from her desk.

"I heard you don't like talking," she said, gesturing for the girl to take them. "What is it, a way to get out of talking to people you don't like or something?"

Mabel shook her head and gently took the items out of Diane's hand, placing them down on the desk and bringing her knees up to her chest.

"No?" Diane asked. "Eh, that's what I would use it for. Some people, they just go on and on, right?"

No response.

Diane hung her head slightly, biting her lip. "Look, kid, I was trying to get you to lighten up a little, but clearly that's not gonna work. Your uncle told me a lot about you, and how you were before… it." She spoke the last word ominously, not daring mention the event-that-shall-not-be-made. "And I gotta say, you seem like an entirely different person. What changed?"

She knew exactly what changed, but she was attempting to get Mabel to tell her herself.

Mabel hesitated, before scribbling something down on her notepad. I had to erase my brother Dipper's memory to stop Weirdmageddon, it read. It caused permanent brain damage, and right now he's in a coma. When he wakes up, he won't even remember me.

"Okay," Diane said. "And tell me about this 'Dipper' character. Is he a younger sibling or an older one?"

Younger, by five minutes.

"So, being twins, you must be quite close, right?"

A small tear welled up in Mabel's eye as she wrote on the pad again. He's my best friend.

"So, losing him must've been quite a shock, huh?" Diane pushed her glasses up her nose, taking a sip of her coffee as she did. "I don't have any siblings, but I have a wife. And I don't know what I'd do if I lost her. So if anything, I'd say you're reacting well to the situation." The doctor may have been lying out her back end, but it was for a good cause. In actuality, Mabel had reacted much worse than most people would (although, to anyone who knew what she and her brother had been through it wouldn't be much of a surprise that she reacted how she did). "Like a piece of your heart torn away."

Mabel nodded. That was what it felt like.

Diane picked up the file again, studying it for a second. "So… this happened about three months ago, correct?" Mabel nodded in response. "Okay, so I feel it's safe to say that there's been at least some progress, because at least you're talking to me. In a way." She sighed heavily, before leaning forward slightly. "Look, we're running kinda short on time – you would not believe how many people need therapy right now – so how about you come back next week and tell me how you feel. Got it?"

Candy pursed her lips, dipping a finger in her water and swirling it around. "Perhaps we can take her to a concert?" She suggested, wiping her finger on her shirt and taking a sip of water, before placing it back on Grenda's kitchen table.

"I don't think she'd be keen…" Grenda mumbled. "That's a really social event, and in case you haven't noticed, she's not very into that at the moment.

"Yeah," Pacifica said, holding her flip-mirror up to her face as she finished applying her eyeshadow. "We need to think of something she enjoys that's quiet and doesn't require any talking."

"A sleepover?" Candy proposed.

Pacifica sighed, clicking her mirror shut. "We've already tried that."

"It might work this time."

"How about a play?" Grenda suggested. "Actually, the last time she went to a play, it kinda traumatised her brother, so maybe not."

"How about fishing?"

Candy and Grenda pondered over Pacifica's suggestion, sharing a glance and smiling. "That could work!" they said in unison, before fist bumping. "Yeah!"

"So how about it?"

The light from the familiar triangular window bounced off the three girls' faces as the looked at Mabel expectantly, standing around her like a barbershop quartet.

Mabel shook her head and rubbed her arm. She didn't want just wanted to lock herself away and never speak to anyone ever again, but it was hard for her to vocalise how she was feeling. She opened her mouth to respond – feeling it necessary – nothing but a hoarse, croaked stutter escaping her lips. She screamed internally. How could she not do something as simple as speak? She tried again, after her throat began to hurt, she gave up and grabbed a pen. As she wrote the message on her palm, she cursed herself. She'd managed to lose her voice, both literally and figuratively. It was like there was a mental barrier that put her on mute, and as a result of not talking for so long, she'd managed to make it physically impossible for the time being. She used to talk to Stan on occasion, but she'd stopped even that now.

She held her palm up to the light, and Pacifica leaned in to get a better look.

I don't feel like it right now. Sorry.

Pacifica went to speak, but Candy got there first. "Mabel, just give it a go," she said, walking over to her friend and rubbing her back. "Maybe it will help a little.

This isn't a movie Candy, she wrote. There's no miracle cure for me, just like there isn't one for Dipper.

"She never said it was a miracle cure," Pacifica said. "She didn't even say it was a cure. She said it could help."

"Come on, give it a go," Grenda said softly (as softly as she could manage). "If you won't do it for you, do it for us."

Mabel thought for a moment, then sighed in resignation. Fine, she wrote.

Tyler Cutebiker sighed heavily as he scratched his auburn moustache, deep in thought. He pulled his baseball cap off of his head and held it to his chest as he looked out of his office window at the masses of protestors outside. They'd been at this all week now; rallying outside in a vain attempt to get him to do something about the barrier – despite the fact that he was already doing everything he possibly could. The people of Gravity Falls seldom ventured past the town's border, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was food. They were fairly comfortable right now, but sooner or later, they were going to run out. He was attempting to put a compulsory rationing system in place, as that could hold off starvation for a bit. He'd tried calling Ford, but he never sneered. He was the only one who could get the barrier down, but it seemed that nothing short of a personal visit would work.

"Blubs, Durland!" he shouted irritably. "Get in here!"

He'd become rather short with people over the past few weeks; governing a town when the populous is against you is tricky business, and he was well aware that one wrong move could spell their doom.

He let out an exasperated breath, before belting out the words "OI LOVEBIRDS!" and slamming his fist on the windowsill. "FOR GOD'S SAKE, MOVE YOUR ARSES ALREADY!"

After a few tension filled seconds, the two police officers shuffled into the room sheepishly.

"I told you to keep the masses in check," Tyler seethed.

"Well, we—" Durland stammered, before being cut off.

"Then why are they still out there!?"

"With all due respects boss," Blubs said. "We've kinda got out plates full at the moment, what with the barrier an' the rising crime rate, and all the people who want the Gleefuls dead 'cos of the part they played in you-know-what, we kinda haven't had the time to—"

Tyler put his fingers on his temples and rubbed them, slowly and efficiently. "Okay, okay." He took a few deep breaths, pacing around the room for a few second. "Look for volunteers to help you. It's not exactly legal, but we have to. I'll pull some people out of some less useful departments to give you a hand as well."

"What're we gonna do about that there barrier keepin' us all in?" Durland asked.

Tyler pinched his chin thoughtfully, then spoke softly. "I'll go and see Stanford. He's the only one who can help us."

The Gravity Falls lake was one of the few areas that survived Weirdmageddon completely unscathed; it was on the very edge of the town, about as far away from the epicentre of the event as possible. This also had a partial side effect of it being incredibly close to the border, enough that a small portion of shore was cut off, out of reach. They were out on the S.S. Cool Dude (as per last time), which Soos had been repairing ever since the incident with the Gobblewonker. He'd only recently gotten it working again, and now seemed like the perfect time to take it out of the lake.

When Pacifica, Candy and Grenda came up to Soos and proposed their idea, he'd thought they were geniuses; Mabel had loved the first fishing trip, so why wouldn't she love this one? But the more he saw he standing away from them all awkwardly, or giving a half-hearted attempt to catch a fish, the more he realised that he was stupid to think that it would work. A major component of what had made the first trip fun for her was Stan and Dipper, neither of whom could be here. Dipper couldn't for obvious reasons, and Stan was in bed. He was working around the clock to make money, paying taxes for the first time in his life and barely getting any rest, hence why they'd left without telling him (they knew that if they told him, he'd insist upon coming).

"You okay little dude?" Soos asked, walking over to where Mabel was standing. "Or is it dudette? Eh, either way, you look like a zombie."

Mabel made a low huffing sound in response, leaning against the wall as Soos guided the boat to shore.

"I'll, uh, take that as a 'no' then," he mumbled, before looking Mabel straight in the eye. "Hey, he'll be alright, I know it. You guys always pull through, it's kinda like your superpower."

"Remember that you guys got in a fight with the gnomes?" he continued. "Dipper told me that there was like, no way out – and then BAM. Leaf blower to the rescue dawg!" He punched her shoulder lightly, not even earning a glance in response. "It's like an anime, I swear. The good guys always win in the end. Sometimes makes me wonder if we're in a TV show, or a book, or a movie, or a depressing fanfic. But most of the stuff I wonder about doesn't make much sense, so what do I know?"

As they reached the shore and hopped off, Soos tied the boat to the dock. Pacifica, Candy and Grenda got into huddle after walking out of earshot, making sure they weren't being followed.

"Do you think it worked?" Grenda asked.

"I think it may have helped a little bit." Candy added.

Pacifica sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Listen Panini head 1 and Panini head 2, I know you're just trying to be optimistic, but for once in your life be realistic."

"You're starting to sound like Dipper," Candy noted. "Are the rumours true? Do you have a crush on—"

"Shut up!" Pacifica snapped. "Now is not the time."

"Uh doods?" Soos interjected. "Do you guys have Mabel over there?"

"We thought she was with you," Grenda said.

"She was, but then she walked off and I thought she was going over to you guys."

"Look!" Candy said, spotting a set of muddy footprints leading into the brush. "She went into the woods!"

Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, Ford appeared, running towards them at high speed. He stopped to catch his breath, laying his hands on his knees.

"We have to…" he panted. "We have to get to the hospital."

"What?" Candy asked. "Why, is something wrong?"

"He woke up."

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, as it's about as dark as this fic is going to get. Not to say that I'll all be sunshine and rainbows from here on out, it just won't get as bad as it does here. We're finally going to get some Dipper action, and some more... emotionally charged scenes. The whole time dilation thing is because I felt it was stupid for Dipper to recover in under a week, so I came up with something I thought could be somewhat plausible (and yes, saying the chapter title in the chapter will be a regular thing for this series).