Soos looked at the dudes in the black suits, then at their car. He opened and closed his mouth in short succession. He knew that insignia.

He'd seen it when those secret agent guys had tried to arrest Stan last year.

"Hi, dudes!" Soos said, smiling as wide as he could. "Welcome to the Mystery Shack! How can I help you guys?"

The red-haired agent didn't return his smile. "We'd like to talk to your boss, kid."

"Oh!" Soos said. "Well, you're talking to him!"

All he got in response was two stony looks from the agents.

"Is that so?" the red-haired man said. "That's not what our records show."

"Then your records are wrong," said Wendy. "Fancy that…"

The man's eyes narrowed. "How did you hurt your hand?"

"By punching some creep who was giving me trouble," Wendy answered without skipping a beat. "Happens more often than you would think. Whatsit to you?"

The man rubbed his jaw, and Soos couldn't tell if he was convinced by her reply.

"Cut to the chase, Agent Blauer," the woman said, finally coming forward. She flashed them her ID card. "I'm Jill Dryer, of the US Government. I'll be brief. Where is Stanford Pines? This establishment belongs to him, doesn't it?"

"N-Not anymore," said Soos. "Um, my name's S-Soos Ramirez. I-I'm the one running it now."

"So? Where has Mr. Pines gone, then?"

Soos opened his mouth to answer, but Wendy cut him off, "He's travelling with a friend. Won't be back for a while." She gave Agent Dryer a wry look. "He doesn't check his emails often, just sayin'."

Dryer glanced to the side—no, at the Stanmobile, Soos noted with a jolt. "Isn't that Mr. Pines' car?"

"Left it behind while he went to tour the world," Wendy replied.

Dryer's expression was still carefully neutral. "Would you let us inside, please? There's much we need to discuss."

"Uh, y-yeah, sure!" Soos said. "Wendy, y-you should tell the others that—"

"There are other people inside the house?" Dryer noted.

Wendy sent Soos a peeved look, and more sweat pooled under his fez.

"J-Just my grandma, my girlfriend and a few of our friends," Soos answered. "W-We were about to eat dinner."

"Good," said Dryer. "That way, we can have their testimony as well."

"Testimony 'bout what?" Wendy said. "You can't just barge into someone's home without telling them what's going on!"

"Why, you little—" Agent Blauer began.

Agent Dryer held up her hand. "To make a long story short, we're here about a theft of government property." She tapped the document folder under her arm. "A similar event happened last year, at the same facility."

"So? What's that have to do with us?"

Soos put on a placating smile, and pushed Wendy inside the Shack. "We'll answer all of your questions, dudes, don't worry."

They found the girls and McGucket standing in the kitchen doorway. Confusion soon gave way to alarm when they caught sight of the two agents following after Soos and Wendy.

"Oh my," said McGucket. "Who're these people in suits?"

Candy and Grenda shared a grimace, while Pacifica stiffened. The only one to force a smile was Melody.

"Hello!" she told the two agents. "Can, uh, can we help you?"

"I'm just gonna have a little chat with these dudes in the office," Soos told her. "We'll join you guys for dinner later on, don't worry."

Melody nodded. "I could bring you some coffee, maybe?"

"That would be appreciated." The corners of Agent Dryer's lips twisted upward for all of a heartbeat. "Mr. Ramirez, if you please…"

Soos brought them to Stan's—no, to his—office. Agent Dryer leafed through her files after sitting down. Soos waited for her to speak, wringing his hands together, while Wendy just leaned on the wall, inspecting her nails.

"Blauer, would you begin?" Dryer said.

"Gladly," Blauer said with a shark's smile. "Ten days ago, on the night of the 18th of June, there was a breach at a government facility. Several barrels of toxic waste were stolen. I don't need to tell you kids just why this is so concerning, do I?"

"Sure," Wendy said with practised indifference. "Still don't get where we come in."

"Well, as my colleague said before, there was another break-in last summer. The trail led our agents to Gravity Falls, but then it grew cold." Blauer sneered. "Can you guess who our prime suspect was?"

"No clue!" Soos tried, while Wendy shrugged, only saying, "Nooope."

"One Stanford Filbrick Pines," Blauer continued. "The proud founder of—what's it called?—The Mystery Hack?"

"Mystery Shack," Soos said forcefully. "Your one-and-only stop for all that is wonderful and weird!"

That guy Blauer actually snorted, and Soos reined in the desire to have a very strongly worded conversation with him.

"'kay, so you think Stan stole those barrels ten days ago, right?" Wendy said. "Only problem is, well, he's been away for months now. Can't see how he could have broken into your governmental facility while he's in the middle of the ocean."

"How old are you?" Agent Dryer suddenly asked Wendy.

"Not your beeswax, lady."

"Where are your parents?"

"One's at logging camp, the other's six feet under. Want me to give 'em a call?"

"That won't be necessary," Dryer replied, undeterred.

"You realize you're detaining a minor without the authorization of her legal guardian?" Wendy continued. "Aren't there, like, laws against that?"

The lady actually had the nerve to quirk a single eyebrow.

With that simple gesture, Agent Dryer plainly told them just to what extent she cared about the law.

"In truth, the theft of the barrels isn't my greatest concern," she continued. She opened her folder, showing an array of various files. Obviously, she thought it was supposed to mean something to Soos, but frankly, he just didn't have a clue.

"Last year, two colleagues of mine investigated a series of strange events concerning this town," Dryer continued. "In short, our equipment had picked up… some rather strange readings coming from this area. After two weeks, our agents called for reinforcements on July 29th. The very same date, a localized earthquake occurred, causing important property damage."

"We know," Wendy said through grit teeth. "We were there."

"The next day, our team returned empty-handed," Dryer continued, not commenting on Wendy's rude interruption. "No explanation. No evidence. Weeks of investigation, and nothing to show for it."

"Well, there you have it, dudes," said Soos. "They found that nothing weird was going on, and they just went home."

"You've never worked for the government, have you?" Dryer said softly. For a moment, her voice hinted at something other than cold professionalism. "Their lack of findings should have been described in written form to quite an extent. But there's nothing. No paperwork. No reports. As if the investigation had never happened in the first place. And that is more damning than anything they could have written about. The absence of data means something."

"It does?" Soos said, hoping she wouldn't notice just how sweaty he had gotten.

She leaned over, staring him straight in the eye. "It means it was tampered with."

Soos swallowed nervously, finding himself unable to speak. For such an unassuming-looking lady, she sure could be scary when she wanted to.

"So, asking again, but how does any of this have anything to do with Stan?" asked Wendy. "Or, more importantly, us?"

Soos managed a laugh. "Y-Yeah. What kind of stuff did you think Mr. Pines was up to?"

"That's classified information, sonny," Blauer said.

"Classified, my a— " Wendy growled.

By then, Melody was coming in, holding two cups of coffee. "Here's the coffee! Does anyone want any sugar or cream?"

Dryer's eyes flicked over to her. "Please sit down, Ms.…?"

"Ramos," Melody supplied. She took the seat next to Soos. "Um. I-Is there something else you need from me?"

"Nothing for now, thank you." Agent Dryer took another glance at her files. "Jesús Ramirez and Wendy Corduroy. You used to be Mr. Pines' employees, didn't you? Were you working here last summer, in the month those abnormal readings were recorded?"

"What abnormal readings?" Soos said. "I-I mean, I still don't get what you mean by that, dude."

She stared at him, and Soos blushed, feeling like the kid who had been caught with a hand in the cookie jar.

"What he said," added Wendy. "You're being kinda vague, here."

Agent Dryer turned toward Melody. "What about you? Perhaps you understand the need for cooperation. The best would be to speak to you in private to record your testimony."

Melody went pale, and Soos all but jumped out of his seat. "Wait, she doesn't have anything to do with any of this! She wasn't even here last summer!"

Agent Dryer didn't even blink. "So something did happen last summer."

"I… uh…" Soos stammered.

"Like, do you get high on being such an anal-retentive jerk?" Wendy said, pointing at her. "We've got better things to do than being fed your bullshit!"

"Such as?"

"Melody isn't involved!" Soos pleaded. "She didn't do anything, really!"

Agent Dryer only looked at him without saying a word. Then, she told Agent Blauer, "Let's try the grandmother as well. She might have additional information."

"No!" Soos cried out, while Wendy snarled, lunging at her.

Immediately, the red-haired agent went to restrain her. Agent Dryer's expression did not change while Wendy spouted obscenities at her.

"Alright, that's enough," she finally said. "Blauer, please escort Mr. Ramirez and Ms. Corduroy out. I have no more questions for them. Bring in Mrs. Ramirez."

"Wait—" said Soos.

"Once we're done with Ms. Ramos and Mrs. Ramirez, we'll speak to everyone else." Again, Dryer turned her gaze at Soos, making him flinch. "With enough luck, your testimonies will be consistent with one another. If not…" She shrugged. "Well, I guess it won't come to that, will it?"

Soos forced himself to shake his head. "No, ma'am," he said, "it won't."

The hour that followed was one of the longest in Soos' life.

Thankfully, Abuelita and Melody were soon escorted out of the office by Agent Blauer while McGucket and the others were brought in. Soos felt a burst of affection at the hint of defiance glimmering in his grandma's eyes; as always, Maria Ramirez held fast to her pride.

"Abuelita! Melody!" He came rushing to them. "Are you two alright?"

Melody tucked a strand of her behind one ear. "Okay… I guess. I just hope I didn't make things worse without meaning to…"

"Of course you didn't! Oh, you guys, I'm so, so sorry!"

"You don't have to be, mi'jo." Abuelita said, patting his arm. Then, in Spanish, she added, "Let us go. There's a foul stench in this fine home of ours, and I can't stand it."

Soos helped her find her way outside. "Si, Abuelita."

Wendy was already in the courtyard, venting her rage by chopping up firewood. Soos tried to cool his overheating mind as he watched her hack the logs to bits. Melody and Abuelita sat on the porch next to him, talking in low tones.

Finally, the three girls came out of the Shack, followed by McGucket. The old man kept muttering something, and he was pale as a sheet. Next came the two agents. Pacifica threw them a revolted stare, before tugging on McGucket's arm, leading him away from the house. Melody helped Abuelita to her feet, and they went to join McGucket and the three girls.

"S-So?" Soos asked. "Everything's fine, right? It's just as we said, nothing weird's going on around here…"

"There's still a certain something we haven't broached," Dryer said. "In short, we've found that the area is prone to…" She made a deliberate pause before adding, in a strangely forced tone, "small, localized earthquakes. Very dangerous. We recommend that you evacuate the premises while our experts study the matter."

It took Soos some time to understand what she was saying. "Evacuate? Y-You mean leave the Shack?"

"Exactly. If there's another of these… earthquakes, then there's a high probability that this building will collapse. From the looks of it, your Shack certainly wasn't built to sustain that sort of event."

"We can't let you do your… little tours under such circumstances," added Blauer. "You wouldn't want some of your clients to be hurt now, don't you?"

"Being at the Shack isn't dangerous," Wendy said. "That's a lot of claptrap and you know it!"

Agent Dryer barely glanced at her. "You cannot question the words of specialists. Mr. Ramirez, I'll let you and your family gather some of your things. As for you, young lady, your lack of cooperation has been noted."

"Lack of cooperation?" Wendy growled. "Lady, you haven't seen anything yet—"

Soos gently pulled her away. "Thank you, Ms. Agent Lady. Wendy, we should be going."

"Where? The Shack's your home! Where are you going to stay?"

"W-We'll find someplace," Soos said nervously. "C'mon, Wendy."

They joined the others across the yard. Pacifica was giving quite the stink eye to the two agents, while McGucket fidgeted behind her. Candy and Grenda were talking to Melody, who was still rather pale. Seeing her expression, Soos felt the urge to march back inside, and give Agent Dryer a piece of his mind.

"So?" Candy said. "What do they want?"

"To throw Soos and his grandma out of their house, apparently," Wendy said. "Those bastards probably want to take the Shack apart!"

"Oh no," Melody said, putting an arm over Soos' shoulders. "I'm sorry, sweetie."

"I should be the one apologizing," Soos said, shoulders slumping. "Where are we supposed to go?"

"Well, mah house's huge," McGucket offered. He turned toward Abuelita. "Wanna move in?"

"I don't see why not," Abuelita answered.

"Wowsers!" said McGucket. "Ah'm scorin'! If only Stanferd's brother was here, Ah'd rub it in 'is face!"

Abuelita turned a little pink, while Pacifica groaned, "That's gross, McGucket! Just… gross!"

"Huh," said Wendy. "Yeah, McGucket's place is not a bad idea for a base of operation."

"Wait, don't I get a say in this?" Pacifica said.

"Hey, it belongs to him now," Wendy said, sounding a little smug. "Paid for it and everything. He gets to choose."

"I live there too, you know!"

"You do?" Soos asked.

"Well, duh," Pacifica said. "Where else would I live? It was my family's mansion before he bought it!"

"Oh, so that's where you're staying," said Candy. "I thought it was weird that you came back to school even though your parents moved out of town."

Pacifica let out an irritated noise. "Yes, my parents moved out after the Not-Apocalypse. Yes, I moved back after they left. Yes, I'm not living with them right now. Can we get back to a more important topic?"

The girls and McGucket walked away, and their conversation soon became pure white noise to Soos' ears. A sense of shame as thick as gunk settled in the pit of his stomach.

He was out of a home, and so were the two most important ladies in his life. Worse of all, Stan had trusted him with the Mystery Shack—with his life's work—and Soos had simply let it slip through his inept fingers. Stan, who was lost somewhere in the multiverse, along with the rest of his family.

Stan and his family, who were certainly facing unimaginable danger now that Soos and the others had failed to bring them home.

"Sorry," Wendy told Soos. "I kinda messed everything up. I really need to check on my temper…"

"I wasn't much better, dude," Soos said. "I'm just so dumb. She ran circles around me."

"Hey!" Wendy grabbed him by the shoulders. "Don't say that! She's an asshole, going for Melody and your grandma like that!"

"But if we can't go to the Shack, how are we supposed to get the portal repaired?" Soos said, despairing. "Stan and Dipper and Mabel and the other Stan… how are we supposed to save them?"

"Easy," Wendy said, eyes ablaze. "We fight the government."

The next few days were spent in utter monotony.

Ford recovered from his injuries in record time, thanks to Kyan's handy healing spells. Still, Yaspa and her people treated him more or less like an invalid, to his great irritation. In addition, Ford and his family had clearly not earned the woman's trust. It was evident she considered them inconvenient guests at best, and useless mouths to feed at worst.

As soon as he was able, Ford set out to explore their new lodgings. Yaspa's ragtag bunch took refuge in a network of tunnels carved at the base of a mountain. Something had tugged at Ford's heartstrings when Yaspa had told him that Jheselbraum's temple was located at the mountaintop.

Or, rather, the ruins of her temple.

"It was one of their first targets," Yaspa had told him, grimly. "Lady Jheselbraum asked me to take as many people as I could and flee. It was the last time I ever saw her." The story seemed to bring back painful memories, and Ford refrained from asking more details.

A pall of gloom seemed to hover the whole of her people, in fact. Mabel had called them a rebellion, but Yaspa had the truth of it. Her people were refugees: acolytes of the old faith who had been hunted down, survivors of villages destroyed by raiders, dissenters who had fled rather than live under tyranny. Save for a select few, none of them had combat experience. Their situation was dire, and they spent every second of every single day being perfectly aware of it.

Despite all of this, Stan and the kids remained in relatively high spirits. Ford found it all a bit disconcerting until he realized just why they acted that way.

They were putting a happy font for him.

Dipper kept following him around, questioning him about his previous stay in Dimension 52 and asking him if he wanted to write some entries in his new journal. Mabel lamented that she had no stickers to put on his cast, before coming up with the idea to draw on it using her brother's pens. And Stan…

Well, Stan just kept on being Stan.

Stan complained that there weren't any cute ladies their age. He spun tall tales of their sea voyage to the kids running around their underground refuge. He made bad jokes and pulled pranks, more than often aided by the twins and that Zuri girl.

He also deflected any of Ford's attempt at a serious conversation.

Once his arm was sufficiently healed, Ford set out to repair his laser gun. It had been broken when they had fallen from the tower. The process was somewhat tedious, but Ford welcomed it all the same.

It was one of the only ways to keep his mind from spinning and spinning and spinning—

The day he was finished with his task, Dipper and Mabel burst into the room, asking if they could help him test it. Ford easily agreed; with Yaspa's (grudgingly given) authorization, they gathered outside, the twins and their new friend Kyan setting up bottles to serve as target practise.

At first, Ford simply aimed and shot without so much of a flourish. It did not take long for Dipper and Mabel to egg him on; they asked him to strike 'cool poses' as he pulverized his targets, and Ford indulged each of their crazy requests. Soon, a big, dumb grin was plastered all over his face.

A few hours had passed by the time he'd reduced all the bottles to pieces of glass. By then, the twins were eagerly dragging him somewhere else. Up the mountains, actually.

"Kyan showed us this really nice spot where you get a good view of the valley," Mabel said. "You're always up there, aren't you, Kyan?"

"Uh, yeah," the boy said. "I mean, it's a nice place to practise my spells…"

Ford let him be led by the hand, somehow bewildered. The path twisted around the mountain, moving upward in a gentle slope. Ford noticed some ruins at the mountaintop. The remains of Jheselbraum's temple, he realized with a pang.

Finally, they reached a flatter portion of the mountain, more or less halfway to the top. Still, they were high up enough to—as Mabel had promised—be graced with a wonderful look at the land below. Hills rolled away to the horizon, covered in faintly shimmering grass, while silver mist shrouded forests of glowing, bleached-white trees. From this distance, the effect was mesmerizing.

Ford sat down. "This… this is amazing. If only I had—oh." Dipper was handing his journal over to him. "Thank you, my boy. You don't mind if…?"

"Of course not," Dipper replied. "I wouldn't be able to do it justice, anyway. You're a lot better at drawing than me."

"You sell yourself too short," Ford said. "You're very talented, you know."

"Pff, right," said Dipper. "I mean, I'm not… this is… it really isn't…"

Ford watched him sputter in fond amusement. "Alright. But I stand by my prior assessment." He flipped through Dipper's previous entries. A few pages were covered in strange symbols and incantations. "I see you've been studying how magic works in this dimension." Again, he was filled with affection for the bright and curious boy sitting beside him.

"Yeah," said Dipper. "I've been asking Kyan to teach us a few spells."

"Oh," said Kyan. "Teach's a bit too big of a word, really, I'm just a-an apprentice, you know…"

The children chatted quietly as Ford worked on his sketch. He would pepper Dipper and Kyan with questions about the topic later; for now, he only wanted to savour this moment of peace. Eventually, he heard the telltale sound of gravel being crunched under a boot. Ford whirled around, only to find his brother standing there.

"Hey, Grunkle Stan!" Mabel said. "You found our secret spot!"

"Secret?" Stan scoffed. "You two are always here, nowadays, practising magic or whatever. Or so that kid Zuri says."

"Did you climb all this way just to see us?" Ford asked.

"There's a shortcut that leads back to the tunnels," Stan replied. "I guess the kids showed you the scenic route, huh?"

"It's more fun that way," said Mabel. "It was like, a mini-hiking trip!"

"So, you wanted to join us in getting some fresh air or did you have something to tell us?" Ford asked his brother.

"Yeah, that lady Yaspa wants you guys to come back inside," Stan said. "It's time for curfew an' all. So back to the cave with all of yous."

"We did forget to tell her we were going to fire a laser gun all over the place," Dipper said sheepishly.

Kyan's blue face grew paler. "Oh no. If she learns about that, she's going to be so, so mad!"

"Yeesh! Better keep that to ourselves, huh?"

"Alright, nerdlings, time to go!" Mabel grabbed Dipper and Kyan by the arms, ignoring their protests and dragging them both away.

"You heard her, nerd prime," Stan told Ford.

"Just need to put the finishing touches," Ford said, showing him his nearly completed drawing.

"Alright, then," said Stan. "Take your time. We broke curfew all the time when we were kids. Why not one more time, for old time's sake?"

Ford chuckled. "We sure were little devils. Poor Ma…"

"Yep. Poor Ma." Stan was looking at the scenery with a wistful little smile playing along the edges of his lips. "Hell of a view."

"Hell of a view," Ford agreed. After a moment of silence, he inhaled deeply, gathering his strength to ask, "Are you alright, Stan? Is everything fine?"

"'Course I am," Stan said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just… if my theory about the Eye of Dawn is true, then—"

"You know what?" Stan interrupted him. "I'm kinda starving. See you at the mess hall, bro."

"Stan, wait!"

Ford wanted to go after him, but instead he remained rooted to his spot. A sudden lassitude swept over him. All the work the kids had done to help him clear his mind—gone in the blink of an eye. Still, he couldn't exactly hold it again Stan. With another sigh, Ford got to his feet, following his brother back into the mountain.

For the third night in a row, Ford slept dreadfully.

It should have helped that the room they'd been given was so cramped. Normally, he would have been reassured by the presence of his family. Now, even Stan's snores grated on his nerves.

Of course, the fact that Stanley was sawing logs wasn't what kept him up at night, not by a long shot.

Ford had lost count of the times that he had woke up this night. He groaned, turning on his cot. On the other end of the room, Dipper was mumbling in his sleep. Stan seemed absolutely insensate to the world. And Mabel…

Mabel was nowhere to be found.

Ford sat up abruptly, his mind suddenly clear of all drowsiness. Heart pounding, he put on his sweater and rushed out of the room.

Only a few people were up at this hour. None of them seemed particularly willing to help the strange human currently locked in panic mode. One man, however, took pity when Ford came rushing his way.

"I'm sorry, but have you seen a human girl pass by recently?" Ford asked him. "I'm looking for my niece."

"Your what? Oh, you mean one of your children, don't you?"

"My niece, yes," Ford said. "The one with long hair?"

"I did see her. She was going toward the mess hall, I think."

Ford felt a weight off his shoulders. "Thank you!" he told the man, hurrying toward the mess hall. Ford sighed in relief when he spotted a familiar figure knitting at one of the carved stone tables.

"Mabel!" he called out. "What are you doing out of bed?"

Mabel jumped a little, looking at him with the expression of a startled rabbit. Her smile was not long in coming, however. "Hello, Grunkle Ford! You can't sleep too?"

Ford took the seat next to her. "Yes, well… I woke up, and when I didn't see you in your bed, I kind of…"

"Oh no!" Mabel said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out! I just wanted a midnight snack!" She scrunched up her nose. "Of course, all we've got are those nasty ration thingies! What I wouldn't give for a cup of cocoa!"

Ford blinked, not pointing out that she could have eaten back in their room. Mabel was usually rather upfront when she was upset. He wondered why she was being so cagey now.

"A cup of cocoa would be heavenly, yes," he said, cautiously. She hummed in agreement, and he added, "I meant to ask before, but where on earth did you get knitting needles?"

"Some nice lady lent them to me. I'm making space scarves for Candy and Grenda!"

"Space scarves?"

"I know we're not in space," she replied, rolling her eyes. "It just sounds better than 'transdimensional mufflers' in my opinion."

"If you say so," Ford said, vaguely amused. "I know it's important to you, but perhaps you should work on your friends' souvenirs tomorrow. You should be sleeping right now."

"I'm fine," she said nonchalantly. "Mom says I'm like a little battery, I can go on and on and on…"

"That you do," Ford agreed. "But still…"

"Alright, alright," she said, rather huffily. "I had a nightmare and I couldn't go back to sleep."

Ford mulled over her words. Stan was usually the one to comfort the children when they were upset, not him. What would Ford's brother do in the current situation? "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nope!" she said. She was quiet for a while, before adding, "I miss Waddles. Piggy hugs are the best way to fall asleep."

Mabel wasn't looking at him, but Ford wondered if she was asking him for a hug, in a roundabout sort of way. He stayed silent as he mulled over this possibility.

"Oh no!" Mabel said. "There's a hole in your sweater!"

Indeed, the spot over Ford's elbow was coming apart at the seams. "Well, now. I hadn't noticed."

"It probably happened when that horrible priestess lady hurt you!" Mabel said. "And it's a souvenir sweater too! Ugh! Is there no end to her evil?"

"It's okay, Mabel. It's just a sweater."

"No, like I said, it's a souvenir sweater, that means it's important." Mabel made a grabby hand motion at him. "Well, hand it over, I'm gonna fix it."

Ford stifled a laugh. "I don't get a say in this?"

"Nope!"

"Alright, then. Thank you, sweetheart."

He handed his sweater to her, and she got to work immediately. Ford was grateful for her presence, the rhythmic clicking of her needles nearly lulling him to sleep.

"You have these weird scars around your wrists and your neck," Mabel eventually said, in a tone that would have been appropriate to comment on the weather.

Ford cursed under his breath. He'd forgotten that he was only wearing a t-shirt under his sweater. "That's… true."

For a moment, Mabel said nothing. Then, in a tight voice she asked, "Did you get them because of Bi—because of Weirdmageddon?"

Ford sighed. Sometimes she was perceptive to a supernatural degree. "It's not important. It's all in the past."

"Huh." She didn't seem that convinced. "So I guess it's something else that's my fault."

Ford's breath caught in his throat. "What?! What is that supposed to mean?"

"Weirdmageddon. It's my fault it happened, remember?" Mabel seemed very small as she stared back at him. "I guess Dipper didn't tell you, huh?"

"That's…" Ford shook his head, trying to process what she had just said. "No. Dipper didn't tell me."

"It was just…" She drew her knees to herself. "It was just after you asked Dipper if he wanted to stay in Gravity Falls. I kinda… freaked out, you know? I thought about the way you and Grunkle Stan didn't speak for years after your fight, and I was afraid that it would turn out that way for us too. He's my best friend, I don't want him to go away…"

"Mabel…"

"And then this time-traveller guy showed up… me and Dipper, we helped him once, so he's like, hey, maybe I can do you a favour in return?" She put down her knitting needles, and Ford was horrified to see her wiping her eyes. "So he says he's got a magical way to stop time or whatever, and I thought… maybe I could make my summer go on just a little longer. Maybe I didn't have to grow up and see e-everyone I c-care about go away 'cause t-they've got better things to do than wasting their time being w-with—"

Ford immediately brought her into a hug. "There, there," he said, patting her head. "It's alright, it's alright…"

"But it was Bill!" Mabel cried, tears now falling freely from her eyes. "He just wanted the rift, and he talked me into giving it to him, and I fell for it like a big dummy! E-Everyone got hurt so badly 'cause I was stupid and selfish—"

"Mabel." She continued to ramble, unaware of his interruption. His heart broke in two when he realized she kept apologizing to him. "Mabel!" Ford said, a bit more firmly.

Thankfully, she turned a tear-streaked face toward him.

"Mabel, I fell for it too," Ford said. "And I was an adult when I met him. There's nothing to be ashamed about."

"T-That's what Dipper said." She sniffed loudly. "He got p-possessed by B-Bill too, you know…"

"I know," Ford said, anger flaring. The people he loved could be counted on the fingers of one hand, and that bastard Bill Cipher had gleefully toyed with all of their lives.

Mabel looked sadly at the scars around his wrists. "But, you see… if I hadn't given him the rift, then Weirdmageddon wouldn't have happened, and Stan wouldn't have lost his memories, and w-we wouldn't be stuck here with those whackos who want to hurt him—"

"Mabel, if someone is to blame, it should be me. I built the portal that brought him to our dimension. I'm the one who encouraged Dipper…" Ford paused, hesitant to share this truth with her. "Well, encouraged him to spend less time with you."

To his horror, she winced. Ford was painfully reminded of his words to Dipper back then.

Gosh, we've never really been apart before…

Yes, and isn't it suffocating?

Ford was thankful that Stan hadn't heard that particular admission.

"You didn't mean anything wrong by it," Mabel mumbled. "You just wanted to help Dipper. You thought it was the right thing to do."

Ford could barely stand to look into her eyes. He didn't really deserve her forgiveness, not when he had all but called her (and Stan, by extension) a burden not even a year ago. Instead, he said, "Thankfully, your brother was far wiser at the ripe age of twelve than I was at twice his age."

A smile broke on Mabel's little face. "I'm lucky to have him, right?"

"And we're lucky to have you," Ford added. "Don't you ever forget it."

"Aw, you big softie, you," she said, yawning like a kitten. "Good night, Grunkle Ford."

Ford stroked her hair until she fell asleep. Very slowly, he stood up, carrying her back to the room they shared with their respective twins. He moved to put the child in bed, but she clung to his shirt, mumbling in her sleep. With a sigh, Ford sat down on his own cot.

A few minutes later, and he was deeply asleep.

Ford sat in his bunk, book lying unread in his lap. The boat swayed with the waves, making him rather sleepy. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the sea. The cries of the seagulls and the surges of the tide were almost more comforting than the voice of his mother.

Wait, was that music? Was someone singing?

Ford stood up, climbing the staircase leading to the deck. The lights above him flickered. Odd. Stan had just changed the lightbulbs.

Outside, the wind whipped at Ford, and he rubbed his hands together for more warmth. Frowning, he searched for his brother. If Stan wasn't below deck, then he had to be here. There was nowhere else he could be in the small space of the Stan O'War II.

Ford spied a figure at the bow of the ship. The man was clad in a long brown coat, messy grey hair sticking out from under a red beanie. He was facing away from Ford, eyes fixed on the raging sea below.

Stanley was humming a song. Ford's stomach twisted as he recognized the tune.

Someone else had sung this song to him.

"Stan?" Ford asked.

Slowly, his brother turned toward him. The blood in Ford's veins froze at the sight of his face.

One of Stanley's eyes was bloodied and swollen shut. The other burned a bright yellow.

"Hiya, Sixer!" Stan said in a voice that wasn't his own. "Didja me miss me? Admit it, you missed me!"

Ford grabbed his gun, pointing it at the thing in front of him, the thing wearing his brother's skin. "Let him go! Let him go or else…!"

"Or what? You'll blow my brains out?" Bill-in-Stan's-body appeared to consider this for a moment. "Oh, wait! You can't!" And he laughed.

Ford's hands were shaking. "You're dead. He killed you, Stan killed you!"

Bill shrugged with Stan's shoulders. "Did he? Maybe I'm still somewhere in that empty skull of his! Wouldn't it be fun to find out?" He looked at the gun and back at Ford, his grin widening. "Or maybe we could play another game. It's called, 'Hey, Ford! D'you have the guts to shoot your brother again, but with a real gun this time?' At least it would put an end to his misery quickly! It'd be just, boom! Goodbye, Stannie! Would make one hell of a mess, though, all that brain matter everywhere…"

"Shut up," said Ford. "You're dead, you're dead…"

Bill's grin grew into a leer. "You can't do it, can you? And here I thought you were a special boy—the man who will change the world! Some hero you turned out to be, Fordsie Pines. You can't even shoot your own brother for the greater good."

Ford lowered his gun, shaking his head. "No, no, no…"

And suddenly he was back in Bill's lair, hands shackled, skin sizzling from yet another bolt of lightning. He was back in Bill's lair, and the demon was screaming in glee, "I'VE GOT CHILDREN TO MAKE INTO CORPSES!" He was back in Bill's lair, holding the memory gun to his brother's head while Dipper and Mabel looked on in confusion and horror.

"What are you doing, Grunkle Ford?" they asked, voices flat.

Ford could not answer; the gun was heavy in his hand, and the clock was ticking ominously in his head.

"What are you doing?" This time, it was not a plea for answers, but an accusation.

"I…" Ford managed. "I can't do it, not again…"

"Tick-tock, time's up!" another voice said, sing-song. Stan was standing up, nonchalantly dusting off his pants. His face split in a grin. "Aw, don't make that face, Sixer! Don't you like your newly improved brother? You complained so much about the old model!"

Bill snapped Stan's fingers, and the ground under Ford's feet began to tremble. Red bricks were being ripped from the floor and walls, sucked in by the gaping dimensional wound forming above their heads. With twin screams, Dipper and Mabel fell skyward. Ford desperately, futilely tried to reach them. There was a disturbing popping sound, and the whole of their bodies scattered into millions of pieces. Ford stared at the tiny specks still floating in the air, mouth open in a silent scream.

"See?" Bill's voice came out of Stan's mouth. "Think of all the trouble you could have avoided with just one well-placed bullet!" Bill cocked Stan's head. "Less dead children, for one!"

Bill's laughter grew in intensity as more of the world came apart at the seams. The demon raised a hand—Stan's hand—and Ford's feet left the ground. Ford reached for his throat; the air was getting thinner, and Ford could not breathe, and—

And Ford woke up with a gasp.

Something sat heavily on his chest, making him wheeze. Ford moved a bit, spying a thick mane of brown hair. He sighed in relief as the realization sank in. It was just Mabel, still adrift in the world of dreams.

Ford sat up, taking great care not to wake the child. Dipper's head was peeking out of his blanket, and he was slightly drooling all over it. And Stan…

Stan's eyes were closed, and his chest was rising and falling with the peaceful rhythm of his breathing. He was still blissfully asleep.

Ford sank back on his cot, still holding Mabel.

He did not sleep for the remainder of the night.