I hope you liked the last chapter! I know there was a suspenseful cliffhanger but have no fear! Uhh...

This is here! xD

With the warning of an alcohol mentioning, here's chapter 31 of "Welcome Home"!

What was he to do now? Bill Cipher, on his own once again.

It just didn't make sense to Bill. None of it did. Why would Sixer, out of everyone, kiss that guy? He asked himself. To think I could actually trust someone like him. All he did was play with my feelings. I shouldn't have shown effection in the first place, letting my stupid human emotions get to me!

Bill was walking on the sidewalk in town, his hands in his pockets. I should have kept him away from Fiddlesticks. I could have done something to prevent this from happening.

But I didn't.

Bill knew that he couldn't think about that now. His main focus was planning what exactly he would do now. Where would he go? Anywhere but the Mystery Shack, that's for sure. He looked forward and noticed a familiar shop's sign hanging above the building. The donut shop. Bill thought. He wasn't sure what the point of going there was, but he wouldn't mind going in and possibly annoying a few customers.

He walked over to the shop and opened the door. The bell above the glass door rung, and Bill flinched at the noise. He turned around as a spark of blue fire came from the palm of his right hand.

A few people in the shop looked at him, wide-eyed. One young boy stood up atop one of the booth chairs and threw his hands into the air, amazed. "Wow! A real magician!" He exclaimed. "Look, mommy!"

The boy's mom nodded frantically and grabbed her child, picking him up and wrapping her arms around his torso. "Y-yes, yes. L-let's go, sw..sweetie." She stammered, running towards the front door and pushing past Bill. She was clearly afraid of the demon.

Bill laughed mockingly. He opened the front door and yelled out to the woman, "Coward!"

"Sir?" A voice called out to Bill. He turned around to look at the person who had spoken to him. It was a rather familiar face that he just barely recognized.

"Oh, it's you." Bill muttered, walking up to the counter.

The woman nodded. "Karen." She reminded.

"Right," Bill said, nodding slowly. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here, silly!" Karen said, chuckling.

Bill raised an eyebrow. "Still?" He asked.

Karen nodded at the question. "Well, yeah. It's not like I have job opportunities coming my way whenever I want them to." She said with a shrug as she dried the damp, washed cup that was in her hand with a cloth. "So, I guess you never stopped by, huh?"

"What?" Bill asked, tilting his head.

Karen shrugged. "Well, I drop off boxes of donuts at the police station once and a while, and there was this old guy that was carrying you, like, four months ago. Your grandpa, I'm assuming?" She asked.

Bill scoffed and shook his head. "What about him?" He asked, not bothering to mention the fact that Stanford wasn't his grandpa.

"I told him to tell you that I work day shifts here every other day if you still remembered me." Karen said.

"Well," Bill began, "I guess he didn't remember you if he forgot to tell me." He said, rolling his eyes.

Karen laughed at that. "You're funny!" She commented with a smile.

"Funny?" Bill repeated. "Nah, I'm more of a quick-witted thinker." He said with a shrug, leaning on the counter.

"Well it's not a bad thing," Karen said with a smile. "I always look for that kind of thing in a guy." She said. "I guess I finally found someone who has it."

"Really?" Bill asked, smirking. "Who?" He questioned in a sarcastic manner.

Karen laughed at the comment and leaned over the counter, running a hand through her long hair. "Are you gonna be doing anything later?" She asked.

Bill shook his head. "Nope," He said with a shrug, leaning forward a bit. "I literally have nothing planned. Not anymore." He said, muttering the last bit. "Kinda taking some time away from where I was living. And by taking some time, I mean leaving without going back." He said.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Karen said with a frown. "Family issues?" She asked.

Bill shrugged. "Something like that. But who cares!" He said, a grin instantly appearing on his face. "It's better this way." He said, nodding his head in confirmation.

"You could stay at my apartment." Karen offered. "It gets pretty lonely living all alone. I've considered getting pets, but my Dad is allergic to cats. He comes to visit once and a while, and I wouldn't want him to get allergy problems." She said.

"Just get a dog." Bill advised.

Karen smiled. "Huh. Funny, cute, and smart!" She praised. "I never thought of that!"

"Seriously?" Bill asked, a bit unamused. "Cats and dogs are like, the main pet choices." He pointed out.

"Well, I've never really had much experience with dogs in the past, so I guess I never really considered adopting a dog." Karen said.

Bill shrugged and smirked. "Well who knows, you just might get one!" He said, winking at the lady.

Karen just gave a blank look, not understanding what the other was referring to. "What?" She asked, tilting her head.

Bill rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Look lady, if you explain a joke, then it's not funny anymore." He said.

"Right..." Karen muttered, looking away. She was quick to add a smile as she looked back at the demon. "Well, back to drying dishes!" She said, skipping off behind her to the kitchen.


"What're ye' gonna do?" Fiddleford asked Stanford as they went up the laboratory's elevator to go back upstairs.

Stanford shrugged at the question. "Honestly... I don't think there's anything I can do." He said, folding his arms and looking away.

"What?" Fiddleford blurted out. "But... There's gotta be somethin'! Yer' just gonna let Cipher leave like that?" He asked, surprised.

Ford nodded slowly. "Well, It's not like I have control over him. Bill can make decisions for himself as he sees fit." He muttered with a sigh.

"You're not gonna stop 'im?" McGucket asked. Ford just shook his head, however he had an unsure look on his face. "But," Fiddleford began. "The note he left on yer' desk seemed like more of a warnin' than a goodbye." He pointed out.

"I know that," Ford said, "Bill is clearly mad, and I don't know what he's going to do, or where he's going."

"You're right," Fiddleford agreed, nodding slowly. "If he's not careful out on his own, he could get himself killed!" He said.

Those words really hit Stanford hard when McGucket said it. Sure, that thought had already run past him in his head, but actually hearing someone say it felt much, much worse. Ford looked at McGucket for a moment, hoping to change the subject up a bit. "If I may ask, how come you sound so concerned?" He asked.

Fiddleford shrugged. "Well, you had the heart to forgive 'im. Maybe I can, too." He said. "And even if I don't, the least I could do is support you and yer' family through whatever happens." He stated as the elevator door opened.

Ford gave a small smile to this. "Well, it's kind of you to say th-" He began, until he heard a loud crash upstairs. His eyes widened at the sound, and at the assumption that something had been broken. Ford and Fidds dashed up the stairs in alarm to go see what happened. Ford opened the secret door in the vending machine, and the two rushed into the living room.

"Where is he?" Fiddleford asked, looking around frantically.

"I don't know," Ford said, but stopped when he heard another sound and a grunt of frustration coming from his brother coming from the kitchen. Ford raised an eyebrow and pulled out a gun from his lab coat, walking out of the living room. "Stanley?" He called out.

Fiddleford looked at Ford, squinting his eyes on why he felt the need to pull out a gun. "What's with the-?" He asked, but was cut off by the man beside him.

"Defense instincts," Stanford informed. "They grew on me after all those years in dimensions."

"Oh." Fiddleford muttered. He had recently been informed on where exactly Stanford had been for the past thirty years after all the days that they spent catching up on life. It was quite astonishing that Ford had managed to survive all those years on his own.

"Arrgh!" Stan exclaimed in frustration from the other room. Ford and McGucket ran to the doorframe quick enough to see Stan chuck a chair across the kitchen, the chair crashing to the ground on its side.

"Stanley!" Ford exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm upset!" Stan shouted, grunting and clenching his fists. "That little demon friend of yours took my last beer!" He exclaimed, glaring.

Ford sighed in relief at the circumstance, glad that there was no severe problem to be deeply concerned about. "Is trashing the kitchen really necessary?" He asked his brother, folding his arms.

Stan put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes. "Have you tried that stuff? That's the good beer, Stanford! I'm no alcoholic, but come on! He's gonna pay for takin' that! Literally!" He exclaimed.

"I believe we have a more serious matter to be concerned about rather than beer, Stan." Ford said, taking the poem out of his coat pocket and reading over it again.

"Yeah, yeah. You've always got somethin' serious goin' on, pointdexter." Stan said, shaking his head dismissively.

Fiddleford extended his arms towards Stan. "The amulet is missin'!" He informed in a worried tone.

"Oh yeah," Stan said, nodding his head. "Cipher took it." He informed.

"I knew it..," Ford muttered. "But what is he intending to use it for? What's the purpose?" He asked himself, looking away and putting his hands behind his back as he paced around as if he were walking on an invisible line.

"Woah, you okay, Sixer?" Stan asked. When he got no response from his brother as he continued to pace and ponder his thoughts, Stan continued. "Look, I'm sure it's fine. He'll probably be back soon, don't ya' think?"

"No Stanley, I don't." Ford stated, standing in place and looking at his brother. "Bill's gone."

"Gone?" Stan repeated. "Like... gone, gone?" He asked.

Ford nodded, sighing. "I believe so." He said.

Stan hummed for a moment, looking down at the ground. "Wow..." He muttered, taking his fez off and running a hand through his hair before placing it back atop his head. "That's great!" He exclaimed, a wide grin plastered along his face. Stan put his hands on his hips as he laughed gleefully. "I was hopin' he'd leave sooner or later!" He said, still grinning from ear to ear. He laughed at his own statement. "Ya' know, things are finally startin' to feel how they were supposed to feel already with out that guy around!" He said, laughing harder than he had before.

Ford glared and put his hands on Stan's shoulders. "This is not a laughing matter!" He exclaimed, glaring. "You don't understand what could be happening, and what could be at stake, do you?" He asked, his grip on Stan's shoulders getting tighter.

Fiddleford cringed at the way Ford had said that. He already knew it was true, but it gave Fiddleford the hint that this situation was his fault. This was all his fault. He gave a small frown as he felt a wave of remorse hit him.

"Nah, ya' kinda failed to mention that part of the situation, Ford." Stan said, responding to his brother's question with a shrug. "And plus, I'm not completely glad that Bill's gone. He hasn't even worked his first shift yet and he's already missin' out on work!"

"Maybe this will help." Ford said, taking his hands off Stan's shoulders and giving him the note that was still in his hands.

Stan looked down at the folded piece of paper and raised an eyebrow. "What is this?" He asked.

"Read it." Ford said, folding his arms.

Stan did as told and unfolded the note, reading what was written.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

The nice me is DEAD,

And I don't need you.

-B

"Huh," Stan muttered, handing the poem back to his brother. "What'd ya' do to piss him off like that?" He asked.

Ford put his hands behind his back once more. "The better question is, what is Bill going to do now?" He questioned. "He already has a hint of magic within him, what does he feel the amulet would be useful for?" He asked.

Fiddleford shrugged, deciding to join into the conversation. "Maybe he's tryin' ta' become more powerful." He said with a shrug.

Stan shook his head. "What's the point in doin' that?" He asked.

"Well," Ford began. "Fiddleford has a point. Let's try to keep an open mind on possibilities." He advised.

"By the way," Stanley started, "Aren't those 'roses are red' poems supposed to be all lovey-dovey?" He questioned, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"No," Ford blurted out, not really sure on how to respond. He thought for a moment, and remembered a specific day from their childhood that he could use to support his statement. "Remember that poem you wrote, third grade, to Carla McCorkle?" He asked his brother.

Stan folded his arms and tilted his head. "Huh?"

"Third grade, you wrote a poem to Carla McCorkle about a boy named Jeremy. You saw the two of them exchanging sandwiches on the swing set during recess, so you wrote her a poem saying how Jeremy was a dimwit." Ford said, putting his hands in his pockets.

Stan hummed for a moment, trying to remember. "I don't know if I...uh...do you know what the poem said on it?" Stanley asked.

Ford nodded slowly in thought, squinting at the floor. "Uh, yes. I believe so." He said with a nod of his head. "Roses are Red, my face is too, Jeremy-"

"Wet the bed, thinking about you." Stan finished, scratching the back of his neck and laughing at what he had written so long ago. "Jeez, who knew I could be so creative with insults as a kid?" He asked, chuckling.

"Do you think the paper would still be in New Jersey?" Ford asked.

Stan went silent for a moment "Uh..." He muttered, not exactly sure how to explain. "Probably not, our parents don't live there anymore." He said.

"Right..," Ford muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I suppose I forgot just how long it's been." He admitted with a small frown. "Did you hear from Mom and Dad after I disappeared?" He asked.

Stan shook his head at the question. "Nope, but Mabel and Dipper filled me in on some stuff Shermy told 'em in the past." He said.

Fiddleford cleared his throat loud enough for the twins to remember the task at hand. "Oh, right." Ford muttered. "Sorry for getting off track."

McGucket shrugged dismissively and folded his arms. "Do we have any clues?" He asked.

"I don't think there's much for clues on something like this," Stanford said, putting his hands behind his back. "However, it would be a good idea to give a few reasonable hypothesis's." He said.

"What exactly are you tryina' find out, pointdexter?" Stan asked, folding his arms.

"Honestly, I'm not sure." Ford muttered. "It's not my place to go look for him, however I'm concerned that something bad could happen to either him or the town." He said.

Stan put his hands on his hips. "What if he's not wantin' to cause trouble?" He asked.

"Well," Ford began. "That's a possibility, however Bill's made it clear that he's not playing nice anymore. Who knows what he could be trying to do." He said, shrugging.

"Should we really be concerned?" Stan asked. "He hasn't done nothin' yet, maybe you should calm down a little bit, Sixer." He said, rolling his eyes.

"I'm perfectly calm!" Ford lied. "There's no reason to be mad, or concerned, or...sad." He said, fists clenched by his sides. He gave a small frown down at the ground as he spoke the last word.

Stan scoffed. "You just said you were concerned, Ford. Ya' should work on your lyin'." He advised.

"I'm not the lying type." Ford defended, folding his arms.

"Maybe Stan's right, Ford." Fiddleford said, shrugging his shoulders. "This can wait 'till tomorrow, can't it?"

Ford sighed, but nodded slowly. "I suppose so." He muttered.


"Huh," Bill said, looking around Karen's apartment. "You live here?" He asked.

"Yeah, it's not too big, but it's not too small. just the way I like it." Karen said with a smile as she shut the door to her apartment.

The apartment was as she had explained. When you walked in the door, there was a corner to the right with a basket holding a few umbrellas, along with a ukulele. Facing the left was a small storage closet, with a kitchen directly past it. There were a couple wide windows in the apartment, showing some of the city lights as the sun went down. The walls were a creamy yellow color that blended with the space decently.

"What's your favorite movie?" Karen asked as she walked over to the kitchen to wash her hands.

"Movie?" Bill repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Uh, I've never seen one." He admitted with a shrug. "They sound boring."

Karen laughed at this. "You're funny!" She said with a smile. "Okay, seriously. What is it?"

Bill rolled his eyes. "I've never seen one, kid." He said, putting his hands on his hips.

"Kid?" Karen asked, tilting her head.

Bill noticed what he had said, and put his hand over his mouth. "Oh," He muttered, running the hand through his hair. "Uh, sorry. I'm so used to saying that to.. people." He said, giving an awkward chuckle.

"What do you mean?" Karen questioned, drying her hands.

Bill just shook his head. "Better not to bring that one up, kid. Er- Karly." He said, folding his arms and looking down at the floor.

"Karen." Said lady repeated.

"Right." Bill muttered. "Not so good with names, either."

Karen nodded in an understanding manner. "I get that. My Dad isn't good with remembering names, either. He forgets the names of his workers all the time, and he's been working with some of them for years." She said, chuckling softly.

"What, is he a boss or something?" Bill asked, walking over to the kitchen and sitting on a stool next to the counter.

Karen shrugged. "Well, yes. Technically." She began. "He works as an agent, but he has people who do most of the work for him." She said.

"What's his name?" Bill asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He doesn't like his name being thrown around," Karen stated. "He gets angry enough when people mistake him for his brother." She said. "Let's just say... he doesn't really like his brother's reputation." She added, muttering the last bit.

"Ah," Bill said. "Well, not like it matters." He said with a dismissive shrug. Karen just nodded in agreement.

It's not like it was something to be concerned about.


"Thanks fer' offerin' to drive me back home, Stanford." Fiddleford said as they walked over to the car.

Ford just shrugged. "It's no problem, really." He assured.

They got to the car and were rather quick to get inside, especially McGucket. Fiddleford nearly shut the passenger seat door on his arm getting into the vehicle so quickly. Ford buckled his seatbelt as the car started up. Fiddleford felt the warmth of the heater in front of him heating up, and he put his hands in front of it, smiling in a comforted manner at the heat temperature.

Ford noticed the action and gave a small frown. Bill did that once... he thought to himself. A few times.

"So," McGucket began. "When're the twins comin' back to Gravity Falls?" He asked, looking over at the other.

Ford shrugged. "That would be a question to ask Stanley, he keeps in touch with both the twins and their parents more often than I do." He admitted.

"It's never too late ta' talk to their parents." Fiddleford said.

"Well," Ford began. "I'm known to be more of an introvert. I've never met Shermy's son, nor his son's wife. Stan would be the better person to ask about all of that." He said.

Fiddleford just nodded. "I'm hopin' they'll be around when summer comes around." He said. "I didn't give the best presentation to 'em last year. They were the ones who helped me to put my life back together, I owe em' more than a thank you." He admitted.

"The twins did that?" Ford asked, as he put his hands on the wheel. "Dipper and Mabel?"

"Yep," McGucket said, nodding. "Dipper came to me one day, thinkin' I was the author. Back then I couldn't remember much from my past, 'till he flipped past the blind eye page. Then we went to the blind eye headquarters and got a capsule of my mem'ries back." He said.

"Well, it's good that you got your memories back." Ford said as he turned the wheel to get on the road.

Fiddleford nodded. "Ye', well, some of 'em." He said. "I'm still tryin' ta' remember some mem'ries."

"If I may ask..," Ford began, but stopped speaking, afraid that he would offend the man. He shook his head and looked through the windshield at the minor traffic.

Fiddleford raised an eyebrow, confused on why he had stopped speaking. "Ask what?" He asked, tilting his head and looking at Ford.

"Do you...have a valid drivers license?" Ford asked hesitantly, afraid that it was too personal of a question. He wanted to kick himself once he had asked when he noticed the minor silence.

"Hmm," Fiddleford hummed, squinting his eyes. "I don't think I would since the things're supposed to expire after 8 years." He said. "I never renewed it."

"8 years?" Ford repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I don't remember that being the deadline." He commented. "However the deadlines can vary tremendously depending on the dimension."

"Huh?" Fiddleford asked.

"One dimension I traveled quite a few years ago had a drivers license deadline of 25 years." Ford informed.

"Interesting..," Fiddleford said, nodding his head slowly and squinting his eyes. "Would ye' ever consider goin' back to those dimensions?" He asked.

"That would be unlikely." Stanford stated. "Your warnings were right all along after you abandoned the portal process. When the portal is fully functional, it can result in catastrophe across the universe, destroying anything and everything. It's too much of a risk to start it up again, that's why I kept denying Bill's wish to start it up again and travel." He informed.

"But, when you came out of the portal, nothin' was destroyed but the portal itself." Fiddleford said. "Remember?"

"Yes," Ford said, shrugging. "Luckily, the energy that the portal gave off settled down enough to give minimum damage. Luck is the only explanation, really." He commented.

"Well, I'm not sayin' ye' should start it up again," Fiddleford said. "I'm just wonderin' if you'd ever go back if ye' could."

Ford shrugged at the question. "Possibly. Some dimensions were enjoyable, others not so much." He muttered. "Sorry, I overthought your question." He apologized.

"It's my fault," Fiddleford said. "It reminded ye' of Cipher, so you were overthinkin' it." He stated.

"It's not your fault." Ford assured. "Don't worry about it."

"You miss im', don't ye'?" Fiddleford questioned hesitantly.

Ford exhaled silently, but nodded as he continued to look on the road in front of him. "Well, I'm not exactly thrilled that he's gone," Ford said in more of a mutter. "But that was his decision, and I can't stop him from doing what he thinks is best."

Fiddleford just hummed in a low tone, nodding slowly and looking out his car window beside him.

The car rid to McGucket's house wasn't much further, it only took a few minutes to get to the mountain his mansion was atop. As the car went up the mountain, it felt as if gravity was pulling the front of the car down to the back seat due to the diagonal path of the mountain. As strange as it would sound to most average citizens of the Gravity Falls, the pulling force they experienced reminded Fiddleford of the time he had nearly been sucked into the portal years ago. It gave him a strange feeling, looking back at the past event, however he had gotten used to the feeling of going uphill to the point that it no longer frightened him.

They reached to the top of the mountain, and Stanford parked the car near the home's gate. McGucket unbuckled his seatbelt and safely stepped out of the car, thanking Ford for the ride home. He watched the car head back down the hill before passing through the gate.

Nev'r thought i'd think this, but I'm startin' to hope Cipher comes back if it means Stanford is happy again. Ford's not admittin' it, but I can tell he's more glum than he says he is. Fiddleford thought to himself.

McGucket opened the door to his house, shutting it behind him and whistling to lighten the mood. And now ta' make a sandwich! McGucket thought to himself, smiling slightly. He made an attempt to turn the left corner, until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Huh?" Fiddleford blurted out, raising an eyebrow.

There was a familiar man standing in front of him, an unpleased look on his face. McGucket jumped in fear, exclaiming silently to himself. The man rolled his eyes and pinend him against the wall, a grip on each of his shoulders.

Fiddleford bit his lip at the pain in his back and looked at the man with fear. "P-please don't hurt me!" He stammered. "I didn't say anything, I-I promise!" Fiddleford said, rather afraid at the situation.

"It's not that you didn't say anything," The man said. "I've told you this once, and I'll say it again. Don't take off your hat when you're inside their home. We need to be able to see a clear image of events through the video camera inside your hat whenever you're visiting. How else are we supposed to gather information against the Pines family?" He asked, glaring.

"I'm sorry!" Fiddleford exclaimed. "I-It won't happen again, age- er, uh, Mr. Powers..!" He promised, nodding his head frantically.

"Oh, I expect that it won't." Mr. Powers said, narrowing his eyes. "Or there will be consequences greater than the last." He threatened.

McGucket nodded slowly as the agent took his hands off the older man's shoulders. "H-how long is this going to keep on goin' for?" He dared to ask.

Mr. Powers just rolled his eyes at the question. "That bit of information doesn't concern you. You're only participating in this for our blackmailing purposes, make sure you remember that." He said. "If anything goes wrong again, expect me to return to your home unexpectedly once more."

"Y-Yes agent powers." McGucket stammered.

Mr. Powers glared at this. "Don't you dare mix up my brother's name with mine!" He spat, teeth and fists clenched. "My brother is a disgrace to the agency, and I'm surprised he wasn't fired on the spot after his poor performances as an agent!" He said, folding his arms.

"Sorry..." Fiddleford muttered in an apologetic manner.

"Good," Mr. Powers said, a small glare still visible on his face as he begun to walk over to the mansion's front door. He turned around once more to look at the older man as he spoke. "I expect that you'll be back at the Mystery Shack next week?" Mr. Powers asked, Fiddleford knowing it to be more of a statement rather than a question.

McGucket just nodded in a fearful response. It was all Mr. Powers needed to see from the man to head out the door, not bothering to say another word. Fiddleford let out a sigh when the man left, taking off his hat and walking over to the front door, placing it atop the coat rack. He made sure to face the front of his hat to the wall, not wanting the agents to spy on him in his house.

How am I supposed to get outta' this? Fiddleford asked himself. His blackmail is riskin' a lot more on my part than I'm willin' to lose...


"Pointdexter?" Stan addressed as his brother sat on a chair in the living room beside the table. His brother just sighed, adjusting his glasses and frowning, leaning back slightly as he looked up at the ceiling.

Dam.. Stan thought to himself. Never thought he'd be so down about Cipher leavin'. "Stanford." Stan addressed again, folding his arms and leaning back in his couch chair.

"Yes?" Ford answered, the response coming out in more of an annoyed mutter.

Stan cringed slightly at the way the response came out, but proceeded. "Uh, Bill said somethin' earlier." He began. His brother gave no response, however he appeared to be listening to his words. "Uh.. he said that he didn't want ya' lookin' for him." He continued. "At first I wasn't sure what he was talkin' about, figured he was only leavin' for a bit. But I guess that wasn't what was happenin', so I figured I'd tell ya' before you went lookin."

"I wasn't planning to go look for him." Ford stated, folding his arms as he looked over at Stan. "I don't have control over where and when he decides to leave."

"You weren't?" Stan asked. "I thought you'd be upset that he left, so you'd go lookin' around town for him." He admitted.

Ford stood up from his chair and grunted, clenching a fist in his hair and pushing in the chair with the other. "Of course I'm upset that Bill left!" He exclaimed, beginning to walk away with a glare on his face. He stopped walking to stand in front of Stan. He pointed a finger towards his brother as he continued to speak, making the point that he wasn't finished. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to go searching around Gravity Falls for him like some sort of madman!" He stated, putting his hands in his lab coat pockets and storming out of the living room.

"Jeez," Stan muttered to himself. I guess he's got a point, but I thought he'd be worried that he was walkin' around town all alone. Stan scoffed to himself and rolled his eyes. Eh, why do I care? The guy tried to kill my family, not sure why I'm carin' if he's gone. Ford's 'clean slate' lecture really got to me, huh...

To take Stan's mind off the situation, he grabbed the Tv remote beside him and turned the Tv on, flipping to a channel that was playing "Clashing cooks!"

Meanwhile, Ford was in his bedroom, laying down on his bed. He took off his glasses and placed them beside him, running a hand through his hair with his hand. It had been quite some time since he had been in his actual bedroom. Ever since Bill had become a human, he had been sleeping down in the laboratory's bedroom nearly every day to the point where he had gotten used to the room being his ordinary bedroom.

Ford sighed and ran his hand down his face slowly with a frown. I don't understand why Bill left. He thought to himself. Was it something I did? Was it something he did? Why would he leave with so little context? Stanford wasn't exactly sure why the man had decided to leave.

The whole situation made very little sense to him. Bill had been in the shack for nearly five months. When he was first staying, Ford would have had no problem of Bill wanting to leave, if his research of his human form wasn't in the way of that. In fact, Stanford hardly wanted Bill to stay. The funny thing was, the only reason Bill began staying at the shack in the first place was for Ford's research purposes, and research purposes only. So why was Ford so upset about him leaving now? How come he became so mournful at the thought of Bill leaving?

He had grown attached.

Stanford Filbrick Pines, the man who had truly become attached to Bill Cipher. He knows it, Fiddleford knows it, and Bill...

Well… Bill thought he knew it.

Ford sighed once more and put one of his hands into the air, counting the fingers on his hands. Six fingers. Not five. The common nickname given by Bill rang in his head. Whenever Bill had addressed him as 'Sixer', it was never meant as an insult. It was never said in a mocking manner. It was never used to make Ford feel bad about himself, nor to make him feel alienated. No, ever since Ford took Bill in after all the trouble he had caused in the summer, it was used in an understanding manner. Bill was finally beginning to understand Stanford's feelings, the feeling of being different.

Maybe that's one reason why Bill had such a change in heart.

Until now. Now, Ford wasn't sure just what Bill was planning to do. Was he going to do something reckless? Ford kicked himself at the thought of Bill ending his life, unintentionally or purposefully. But what would Bill do? Ford asked himself.

Then it hit him.

The file cabinet, it was open quite recently without context. Ford thought to himself. He sat up immediately in his bed, fear filling his head. What if Bill was looking for something, and lied about it? Could he be looking for answers to something big? Ford wasn't exactly sure, but he sure as hell didn't want to risk it. Before he knew it, he was back down in the laboratory, frantically searching through the file cabinet.

What did he take? Ford asked himself as he scrambled around in the file cabinet. What is he planning?

Stanford looked and looked, but couldn't find what was missing. Ford ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Maybe I'm overthinking this..." He told himself aloud. He heard the sudden sound of the elevator coming downwards. He looked at the elevator doors to see his brother step out.

"Hey, pointdexter." Stan greeted in more of a mutter, holding a box of Chipackerz in his hand. "Want some?"

Ford shook his head at the offer. "No, thank you." He declined, putting a hand up in front of him.

"Aw, c'mon." Stan groaned, rolling his eyes and walking up to his brother. "You've been pissed off all day. Just try one." He insisted with a look on his face showing that he wouldn't leave until Ford tried one.

"I'm not 'pissed', Stan." Ford stated. "I'm just trying to solve all of this. None of it adds up." He said, running a hand through his hair before putting his hands in his pockets.

Stan rolled his eyes as Ford began to ramble on about what he was thinking. Stan reached into the Chipackerz box and grabbed one, holding it up in his hand as he looked at Ford.

"-And what would Bill do if he realized that-" Ford continued, but stopped when Stan shoved a cracker into his mouth. Ford tried to look at the object forced into his mouth, and raised an eyebrow. He accepted the snack and used his hand to pop it into his mouth, munching on it in deep confusion. "What is this?" Ford asked, looking at Stan with a confused look.

"It's a Chipacker!" Stan said with a grin.

Ford narrowed his eyes, even more confused by the name. "A what?"

"A Chipacker! Chipackerz always make ya' feel better!" Stan said with a shrug. "Mabel said that last summer, and she aint' wrong about it, either."

"Stanley, 'ain't' isn't a proper-" Ford began.

Stan rolled his eyes and stuffed another cracker into his brothers mouth to end his speech. Ford just narrowed his eyes, grabbing a side of the cracker and pulling it out of his mouth. "Will you stop that?" He asked in an annoyed manner.

"Will ya' stop bein' so nerdy?" Stan asked, rolling his eyes. "You ain't never gonna get a date if you're always correctin' people like that, pointdexter."

Ford just sighed, deciding to eat the other cracker that his brother had already shoved halfway into his mouth. He remembered the question that Fiddleford had asked earlier in the day, wondering when-or if- the twins would be back in Gravity Falls. "Stanley," Ford began when he finished the chip flavored cracker. "Do you have any idea when Mabel and Dipper will be back in Gravity Falls?" He asked.

Stan shrugged. "The summer, maybe." He said. "Their parents were sayin' they wanted to go to Vegas in the summer." He informed.

Ford just nodded. "The sooner the better," He began. "I need to chat with Mabel when she returns, face to face."

"Why?" Stan asked.

Ford shrugged. "It's not important." He half-lied.

"If it's not important, why'd ya' say 'the sooner the better'?" Stanley asked, placing the Chipackerz box onto the desk beside him and putting his hands on his hips.

Stanford just sighed, shaking his head. "You probably wouldn't understand, or care." He said with a shrug. "Fiddleford was the one who reminded me to ask." He admitted.

"Well, you nerds can have your little secret-circle, I'm gonna go make a sandwich. Ya' want one?" Stan offered, walking over to the elevator.

Ford thought for a moment, deciding whether or not he should accept or decline the offer. In the end, he just nodded his head. "Sure." He said with a small smile.

Alright, I had to end this chapter on a pleasant note with all of the crazy stuff heating up. So, we've got Karen who seems pretty interested in Bill, and we've got some drama with the return of Mr. Powers from earlier chapters! Hopefully you remember him, and if you don't, he was in chapters such as "Object? Stolen!". Not to mention, Ford's pretty down about Bill being gone. I wanted to push this chapter out early so that I didn't have to leave you guys on a cliffhanger from the last chapter. Next chapter should be up next week :3