Dipper was bored. Very, very bored. Not much had happened in the days since… Priscilla, he thought her name was, had arrived. Stan and Ford had explained that she was a friend of Mabel's and that there was some situation going on at home that meant she was going to be staying with them for a while. Still, it didn't explain why girl blushed so much around him, or how Mabel seemed to be holding back an excited squeal every time Dipper interacted with the girl. He'd asked Soos what that was about, and he'd said it was probably her 'shipping' again.

He was pretty sure he didn't even know what that was even before the memory wipe.

It was odd, having people you can only barely remember care so much about you. He couldn't remember much of his relationship with any of them aside from Mabel, but they seemed so comfortable with the way he interacted with them that he couldn't help but feel he had settled back into his old dynamic without even realising. They all seemed to act as if he was still the same person he was before all this, simply because he'd regained some of his memories. He wasn't even sure he'd ever be the same person even if he did get all his memories back. To an extent, he wanted to tell them that. To break the bubble, the delusion that they could pretend none of this ever happened. But it almost seemed cruel; he didn't have to know his family well to recognise that the whole memory thing had hit them hard. Mabel was much less optimistic and cheery than he remembered, and whilst that wasn't a good thing, in a vindictive sort of way, he felt almost relived. Relived at the realisation of how much they truly cared for him, so much so that a piece of each of them seemingly died in the Fearamid, just as he did.

He knew it was wrong to get any sort of vindication out of his family's mourning, but it was still comforting. He wasn't happy they were sad per se, more happy that it proved how much they cared. It was all he really had at this point, because he just didn't enjoy a lot of the things he apparently used to do for fun.

Ghost Harassers was a show he supposedly would've payed good money to watch for the first time again, but maybe it was the ability to look at it objectively, without the rose-tinted glasses of nostalgia, but the new seasons were a bit crap in all honesty (season 8 stood out as the most glaring offender), and he was glad he'd finally realised that. He wasn't very good at a lot of his favourite video games anymore, either. It wasn't that he didn't like them (they actually held up to scrutiny), but he just wasn't as good at them. He loved a good RPG, but games like that required quick reaction speed, mainly during boss fights and the like, but slower reaction speeds is a common effect of brain damage. There were times where he'd only react a full second too late, and it wasn't exactly a rare occurrence.

It certainly wasn't out of the question that he could learn to get past that disability, but for now, it meant that he had absolutely nothing to do except play chess with Mabel, which wasn't exactly the most fun thing in the world. He'd been meaning to ask Ford for a game of DDnmD for a while now, as it didn't seem like type of game that he'd enjoy less now, but the scientist was always so busy that he never thought there was an appropriate time.

As for now, Dipper was sat in Stan's car next to Wendy. Stan had let them borrow it on the promise that they would do his shopping for him, and Wendy already had a learner's permit, so she was good enough at driving to not crash. They were just driving up to the corner shop when Dipper looked out the window. People were staring, but not in a bad way. They seemed to be looking on with some sort of reverence. They weren't exactly bowing down or anything, but there was a look of unspoken respect for the duo in their eyes.

"Hey Wendy?" he asked, "why is everyone looking at us?"

"Because it's like, the first time you've been out in town since you got your memory back," Wendy scoffed. "These people are only here because of you, Dipper. You saved them, and that isn't something they'll just forget."

"They wouldn't thank us if they knew we caused it."

"I mean, I'm pretty sure they do know," Wendy smirked, checking the rear-view mirror as she parked. "Pretty sure Ford already told some people about his involvement."

"Information can't travel that fast though, right?" Dipper asked.

Wendy laughed. "Dude, this is Gravity Falls. Everyone knows everyone around here. News travels fast, go figure." She smiled as she unbuckled her seat belt and climbed out of the car. "Come on dude."

"No luck closing them portals then, eh?"

Dipper smirked. The portals (which were more like dimensional tears) had started popping up a few days after Weirdmageddon, but apparently nobody had bothered to do anything about them other than cordon them off until now.

"Yeah," he stuttered, "we're just trying to figure out how to even deal with them." The 'we' of that statement was a straight-up lie; no one other than Ford and Wendy had been involved in trying to seal the tears, since everyone else was a bit busy dealing with their own baggage.

The shopkeeper smiled, her clearly dyed brown hair framing a thin and slightly wrinkled face. "Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something. After all, it was your idea to that terrible gun on yourself."

The memory of that night in the Fearamid came back to Dipper right then; he could remember the fear, the hopelessness he'd felt. "It won't hurt, I swear," he remembered saying. "You could never hurt me." It was ironic, that that turned out to be completely untrue in the end. He remembered the terror of facing down Bill and the effort needed to keep his composure, to trick the demon for long enough.

It still haunted him.

"—and I must say, that saved all our skins!" The shopkeeper laughed, oblivious to Dipper's flashback. "That'll be $14.59 please."

Dipper squinted and looked at the till in confusion. "B-But the thing says it's $20.59."

"As if I'd charge the town heroes full price," the shopkeeper smiled. "It's the least I can do."

Dipper sighed. "Miss, it's fine, we – I don't deserve any—"

"Now you stop right there my love. I know exactly what you're going to say, but I won't listen to a word of it. You and your family deserve a little helping hand after all you've sacrificed to help us."

"Fine." Dipper shook his head, appreciating the gesture, but still a bit miffed nonetheless. Still, he could see there was no point arguing, but it annoyed him regardless as he swiped Stan's card.

"Thanks dear," the shopkeeper said, waving him off. "Get well soon!"

The car ride back home was eerily silent.

"Wendy, can I ask you a question?" Dipper asked, breaking the uneasy silence.

"Shoot."

"Do you think our family deserves… what's the word again… uh, charity, that's it. Do you think he all deserve charity for what we did in… in…"

It was only then that Dipper realised that he couldn't even bring himself to say the word. Just like he could barely say Bill's name, but not because of a physical ailment for once, more of just a mental block.

Thankfully, Wendy didn't notice how he trailed off, and seemed to intuit what he was talking about anyway.

"Why?" she asked. "What happened?"

Dipper sighed. "The woman who ran the shop gave me six dollars off because I'm 'one of the town heroes' apparently."

For the first time, Wendy took her eyes off the road. "Don't give me that airquote shit, Dipper. You are a hero whether you like it or not. You saved the world without even knowing you'd even be able to get your memory back. You saved me. You may not remember it well, but you gave up everything to save us. You may not like it, but you definitely deserve it.

"Plus, like I said, Gravity Falls is a small town. When everyone knows everyone, good deeds go a lot further. You're going to get charity whether you want it or not."

When they got back to the Shack, they dumped the shopping in the kitchen for someone else to deal with, and began to ready the Shack for customers. Wendy retaught Dipper everything he needed to know about running the gift shop, and by the time lunch rolled around, they were tired from…

"Three hours?" Wendy gawked. "That did not feel like three hours of work."

"Felt like thirty," Dipper responded, taking a sip of Pitt Cola. "Maybe we should take shifts. You do an hour, then I'll do an h-hour, and we can each take breaks whilst the other is working."

Wendy scrunched her nose up in thought. "That doesn't sound so bad. Tell you what, I'll take first shift."

Dipper spent the next forty minutes trying his best to keep himself entertained, but he still hadn't made any progress one the 'finding his hobbies boring now' front. So, that was how he found himself travelling down the rickety elevator to the basement lab. Ford may be busy, but a quick game of DDnmD couldn't hurt, right?

The doors creaked open, and Dipper walked into the basement lab. The lights were on full blast for the first time he could remember, it really took away the unsettling vibe when you could see the place clearly.

"Grunkle Ford?" he asked sheepishly. "Are you there?"

After a moment, Ford's head popped around the corner. He had some soot on his face, and a few strands of his messy grey hair were on fire.

"Grunkle Ford, I thought you stopped lighting your face on fire."

"I did!" Ford replied. "Did the explosion startle you? I didn't mean to make a fuss."

"No, it's just—" Dipper paused. "Wait, explosion?"

"Yes!" Ford replied almost giddy. "Mason, do you remember why we're stuck in here?"

"Time dilation bubble?"

"Correct," Ford responded. "I believe we simply got unlucky. It was a chance event that was caused by Time Baby's death."

"I forgot about him," Dipper said, laughing for the first time in months.

"He was an odd fellow, wasn't he? Anyway, I've been asked by the mayor to try and find a way to break the bubble, so I came up with this. It's a device that will emit an energy wave that will negate the effects of the barrier as long as it's active. I'm using the alien hyperdrive as power, and I was making good progress until one of the fuses blew and it cracked my last crystal."

Ford gestured to a large cylindrical device on his desk. It was hinged open, clearly showing the broken remains of a height-altering crystal, sat next to a blown fuse and a melted wire.

"So what do we do now?" Dipper asked, panic creeping into his tone, "a-a-are we stuck here? Like, forever?"

Ford chuckled and patted Dipper's shoulder to ease his anxiety. "Not at all, Mason. It's simply a matter of time. Or perhaps, a matter of size. That was my last height-altering crystal, and I need it to amplify the power. Only, with the Journals gone I've lost all my record of where they grow."

"Would a broken one work?" Dipper asked. "Mabel saved the flashlight during… it."

"No," Ford muttered, deep in thought. He turned and knelt down, placing a hand on his great-nephew's shoulder. "Mason, you went to that part of the woods more recently than I did. I need you to remember how you got there."

Dipper clenched his eyes shut. He could picture the little clearing with they crystals, he could see that little muddy path leading up to it, but nothing else. Just vague recollections of scenery, with no way to mesh it all together into a coherent thought.

His uncle was asking him to remember one thing. One tiny, minuscule thing that he knew he should remember. Everything rested on him recalling this one event yet he couldn't. The weight of the world was on his shoulders. Again. And he'd failed. Again.

He didn't succeed at anything during Weirdmageddon he just saved humanity from one fate whilst condemning them to another.

But then, what Wendy said in the car finally made sense.

"These people are only here because of you."

He did succeed at something. He saved the world, now he just needed to do it one last time.

If he could just remember…

And finally, it hit him like a freight train.

Dipper's eyes lit up. "I remember!" he shouted, his voice cracking in silent relief, thankful he could actually be useful for once, instead of just a deadweight. "I think."

They set off in the dead of night as not to alarm anyone. They both knew that everyone would try and stop Dipper from going, but this was too important. Dipper had one of Stan's old crossbows that Ford had shown him how to use slung over his shoulder for protection. Ford was also well prepared: he had a large hunting knife, a spear tied to his back, and a dagger.

You can never be too careful.

Dipper took the lead as they trekked through the cold, dead forest. He stopped just before the hill to the crystal clearing, pulling the crossbow out and loading it with his shaking hands. Ford was looking through a pair of binoculars to check if there was any danger.

"It's clear." He strapped the binoculars onto his belt and pulled the spear from his back. "Listen carefully, Mason," he said. "This part of the woods is dangerous at night, and I'm not letting you get hurt under my watch again. Stay here and shout for me if there's danger. If something goes wrong, don't be a hero. Get Stanley."

"But I—"

"No buts," Ford said sternly. "I don't give you the crossbow so you could kill people, I gave you it so you could defend yourself. You've been through enough, and I don't want you getting hurt again."

Ford turned and crouched down, flicking his torch on as he walked to the clearing. He could he Dipper sigh in frustration, and as much as he understood wanting to be a hero (lord knows he understood), he wasn't willing to take any more risks.

Not this time.

As swift as a cat, he dashed over to the centre of the clearing and jammed the tip of his spear into the rock, levering a crystal out and pocketing it. He was about to take another just in case (old habits die hard), but stopped when he heard the distinctive sound of a bolt being fired, followed by a panicked shout of 'help!'

Ford dashed back up the hill, where he saw a short, fat fat man with tanned skin and receding grey hair holding a knife to Dipper's throat. The crossbow bolt was embedded in a tree behind him. Dipper was breathing heavily, his eyes wide, not even attempting to hide his fear, he was out of his depth and he knew it. The two were framed in the moonlight, too perfect an image for such a dire situation.

"Stan Pines," the man snarled, gripping the top of Dipper's head. "It's been too long."

Ford lifted an eyebrow in confusion. "Who the hell are you?"

The man's confident stance faltered for a second, but it didn't last long. "Come on, Pines. I tried to kill you that one time, remember?" His accent was very thick, clearly South American, but Ford couldn't quite place it.

"Do you have the slightest idea how little that narrows it down?" Ford asked, keeping up a confident façade. "I'd ask you to be more specific, but I'm not in a position to make demands, it seems."

"You still owe me, remember? Get me the money or I'll kill the boy."

Dipper whimpered slightly.

Mentally, Ford ran through all the scenarios where he came out on top here. He had an idea, but it was a really, really stupid one.

But it was better than nothing.

"I don't even know who he is," Ford bluffed, guilt rising inside of him when Dipper's eyes somehow widened even further. "You've got no leverage." That time, he wasn't able to hide the waver in his voice.

"Really?" their assailant said. "Then you won't mind if I—" he swiftly yanked the knife across the air in front of Dipper's neck, but Ford reacted on instinct.

"Mason!" he shouted, before quickly covering his mouth.

"Mason… that's a nice name. I can see why you care for him," the man grinned, a gold tooth glinting in the moonlight. "How ironic. Stan Pines, the lone wolf, the outcast, started a family. And here I thought you were done with that after your family kicked you out."

He thinks I'm Stanley, Ford realised. "Look," he said,"I don't have your money just now, but I can get it to you. I know I still owe you, I've ran for long enough. Please, just… don't hurt the kid."

The man smiled. "You faked your death to escape me, Stan. And now you're willing to give it all up for family. How the might have fallen."

"Please," Ford begged.

The man sighed. "Drop your weapons, kick them over to me."

Ford placed his spear on the ground, gently pulled his knife out of its sheath, and then threw it, the dagger, and spear over to the assailant and held his hands up in the air.

After a few tense, hour-long seconds, the man pulled the knife away from Dipper's neck and shoved him over to Ford. Then, he pulled a pistol out of his coat and pointed it at Ford. Dipper hugged into his uncle's leg, and Ford ran his finger comfortingly through the boy's hair.

"I'm not a psycho, Stanley," the man said. "I'll give you a chance to pay up on your own terms. But if I don't have my money by sundown next Tuesday, you'll be giving it to me on my terms. I got a guy called Jorge who'll be waiting at the town centre at the deadline. You get the money to him.

"Now, piss off before I change my mind."

Ford nodded and grabbed Dipper's small, shaking hand. "Come on," he whispered, "we better go."

And so, they turned and ran.

So, it's been a while since I updated this fic. About three months. Yeah, sorry about that, life just got a little hectic. If you're worried I'm not going to follow up on the Pacifica cliffhanger of the last chapter, I will, that's what I've got planned for the next update (and it will hopefully have more of Mabel than this chapter's… none) it's just that I felt like I needed to actually move into the next phase of the story by introducing a minor antagonist. It's pretty obvious who the guy is, but he's not going to be some big bad or anything, just a character I'm going to use for a Stan-centric character moment. I'll attempt to get the next chapter out in a reasonable time, but just know, I haven't abandoned this fic (and I'm working on the next chapter of Ashes of the Past too).