Stanford stared up at the ceiling of his room, trying to slow the rapid beating of his heart that started going ninety to nothing several hours ago, and never quite slowed down since.
He'd told Stanley everything he could; about Bill, about being tricked into creating the portal, about what the portal's purpose was actually FOR. His twin took the explanation in stride, remaining silent to allow Ford to tell the whole story, and then told him to PLEASE. For the love of GOD. Go upstairs before he did something he was going to regret.
Considering the almost overwhelming scent of death that Stanley was emitting, Ford didn't object in the least. He wanted Stanley to stay inside, and the basement was the next best thing for having a blood rage without hurting anyone.
Ford's hand slipped off of the couch and rested on the case that contained the rift. Stanley was right. He needed something better to contain it for the time being until a more permanent plan could be utilized. Bulletproof material could take a while to find, but that was longer than he could bear. Something had to be done SOON.
The closest solution that he could think of was the alien adhesive. It wouldn't even take the whole day to go in, get the adhesive, and come back. It would even take less time if he brought the rift with him—
No, no…he couldn't risk breaking it if he took a wrong step. Perhaps he could bring—NO. For one, Dipper would never be able to control his panic in the state he was in. Also, he was pretty sure either Stanley or Mabel would kill him, and he honestly couldn't tell which fate he dreaded most.
He briefly toyed with the idea of asking Mabel, but he honestly wasn't sure if he could trust her not to push him off of a ledge and call it an accident. It was a horrible thing to think, but the looks she was giving him recently didn't exactly help his paranoia.
And as he told Stanley, his twin was the most susceptible to Bill, what with the brain activity flat-lines when under duress, and Bill wasn't even TRYING to be subtle when he showed his plans for Stanley. Ford knew Bill was only forthright when he was shoving it in someone's face, a sort of 'ha-ha, look at what you cant change even if you tried!'.
So no. He had to do this alone.
Stanley knew how important the rift was for safekeeping. If he told Stanley to guard the basement until he got back…
Yes. That could work.
Ford closed his eyes, hoping for a couple of hours of shut-eye before going out. He had a plan. This could work. It had to.
Mabel sat outside, up earlier than normal with her hot cocoa, watching the sunrise. Here she was, about a week from her shared birthday with Dipper, having serious thought of what she was going to do.
She didn't want to leave her Grunkle Stan here alone. It wasn't that she didn't trust him to behave, it was everyone else she couldn't trust. She loved Gravity Falls, but she knew that most people here wouldn't understand what happened to Stan. And what if the FBI came back? Realistically, she could go to school in Gravity Falls with Grenda and Candy…she really did miss having FUN with her friends.
But there was also Dipper to consider. Her twin was slowly breaking mentally and emotionally every day he was here. What he needed was to leave this place and get therapy…or maybe very closely-monitored rounds with the memory gun. Anything that would give him a full night of sleep.
Perhaps…it would be best if Dipper have his memories of Grunkle Stan's condition and Bill's influence erased and he went home while she stayed here. It seemed like the best solution for everyone.
Now if only she could figure out what to do with Great-Uncle Stanford.
Speaking of the devil, the man walked out of the Shack, adjusting a bag over his shoulder before freezing when he saw Mabel. This was the first time they had been alone since he arrived, and it was just as uncomfortable as he imagined it would be. She gave him a look that plainly said she wasn't appreciative of his company, and he attempted to return it with a semblance of politeness.
"…Good morning," he said, his hands flexing into the strap of his bag. "…You're up early."
"So are you," she replied, taking a sip of her cocoa without breaking eye contact. "And you're going somewhere."
Uncomfortable shift of weight. "…I am."
"Where?"
"Just…out."
"You're a horrible liar. Hard to believe you and Grunkle Stan are twins."
Ford sighed, this conversation already weighing down his mood. "Look…Mabel…" he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "…I know I've given you literally NO reason to like me, let alone trust me…but please…believe me when I say that hurting you or the family was never my intention." His expression was almost pleading. "I'm doing my best to HELP Stanley and Dipper, but there are things here that I have yet to understand…and I'm basically working blind trying to find a cure."
Mabel frowned, her brow furrowing. "So figure out the PROBLEM first," she replied. "It doesn't matter if the answer is 'ten', if you don't know which numbers are used to get 'ten', then you're just gonna make things worse."
"It's more like 'solve for x'," Ford said. "But yes…you are right. The problem, though…is finding what x is. Without it, the answer, obvious though it is, is still unattainable."
Mabel looked down at her cup, looking sadly contemplative. "…It's so stupid how much you and Dipper are alike," she said bitterly. "Always looking at 'how' something is before thinking of 'why' something is. Or even if you should be looking into it at all." She tucked the bottom of her sweater over her knees. "We were supposed to be here for fun, fresh air, and relaxation. Now look at where we are now. All because you never thought to ask if it was a good idea to trust a floating yellow triangle." She shot him a glare. "I'm not even hinting it, Great-Uncle Ford. I blame YOU for all this."
Ford felt an icy weight drop in his stomach that was almost nausea-inducing. "…I know," he replied, almost choking on the words. "…I blame myself too." He wrung his hands into the strap of his bag. "I…should be back before dusk. Goodbye." He hurried off down the dirt road, his heart hammering in his chest.
He recalled Stanley telling him that Mabel is—was—a bright, beautiful ray of sunshine that was comparable to a patron saint of smiles. He had seen photographs of the summer before all of this happened, and he could believe it, with her jumping into every shot with an energy he could almost feel. And because of his stupidity, his lack of foresight, he had destroyed that too.
Stanley's humanity.
Dipper's sanity.
Mabel's innocence.
What kind of monster WAS he?
Mabel walked through the woods quietly, a crossbow at her side, looking contemplative and sad. It was a rare moment she had for herself, between taking care of Grunkle Stan and Dipper.
Right now, Stan was tidying up the house and Dipper was holed up in the TV room watching mindless network programming, one of the few things that kept his mind calm. So she figured she would go out for a walk, and maybe possibly find something for dinner Stan might enjoy.
So far, she was enjoying watching nature rather than shooting at it, absently wishing she had brought a camera or something. How long had it been since she took candid pictures of the forest, or walked around collecting pretty rocks and leaves, or speed-knitting miniature sweaters for squirrels? It seemed like forever ago. All of it seemed so pointless now…although she was secretly craving it so badly.
She WANTED to be the bright, smiling person of the family again. She WANTED to run around Gravity Falls spreading glitter and adorableness everywhere, especially since they had a week left before summer's end. But those things had to take a backseat to what mattered.
Her family.
For Grunkle Stan and Dipper, she would never knit another sweater, talk to another boy, touch glitter ever again if that's what it took. To see them be happy again. Be NORMAL again.
Mabel found a stump in the foliage and sat down on it, rubbing her arms for a moment before tucking herself away into Sweater Town, the last little place she had of her own.
Footsteps approaching had her tensing up, one hand sliding back into the sleeve to clench at the crossbow. The footsteps came closer before stopping a short distance from her. She tugged her sweater down, her hand tightening around the crossbow—
—only to see Blendin Blandin standing in front of her, a smile on his face.
Mabel frowned. "…It's you," he said, untucking her knees from her sweater. "What are you doing here?"
Blendin's smile broadened before he raised his hands and clasped the sides of his goggles, raising them. Mabel's eyes widened, her crossbow up and aimed when she saw yellow eyes with slitted pupils leering down at her.
"BILL—" she cried, her finger tightening around the trigger. Bill raised 'his' hands almost placatingly.
"Whoa there, Shooting Star," he said. "You shoot me, you shoot an innocent puppet. I just stopped by to talk."
"Yeah right!" Mabel snapped, scowling. She DID lift her finger off the trigger, though. "What do you WANT? Because if you think I'm gonna let you hurt me just because you're in somebody's body—"
"Cool your jets," Bill snorted. "I know you're not above protecting yourself, or your family, by any means necessary." The grin grew broader and almost sinister. "After all, you've done it before, am I right?" He snorted at the slight flinch Mabel made. "Hey, I'm not condemning you, Shooting Star, like I said, you did what you had to. Really gotta hand it to you, STABBING someone to death? Classic."
"Shut up!" Mabel shouted, tearing up. "I didn't LIKE it! I HATE myself for what I did!" She sniffled, blinking hard. "B-but I had to protect Grunkle Stan!" Her eyes hardened slightly. "And if you go anywhere near Dipper, I don't care WHAT body you're in, I'll make you hurt until you HATE it!"
"I like your spunk, kid," Bill replied, sitting on a log across from her. "And I'm here to let you know that, in exchange for something I want, I can give you what YOU want."
"What, another puppet?" Mabel shot back.
"Nope." Bill's eyes seemed to glow brighter. "A little something from Stanford's lab, in exchange for me fixing your uncle Stan."
Mabel's varied emotions flickered visibly across her face for a few seconds before her expression hardened. "You're tricking me," she said, scowling. "And it's a HORRIBLE thing to trick me with, even for YOU!"
"No tricks, Shooting Star." Bill crossed his arms, smiling. "Besides, I personally think I'm getting the better end of the bargain. You get Fez back to normal, and I get something I've been wanting since Sixer wussed out on me thirty years ago. And you have my word, no tricks. I'll even state it in our deal."
Mabel chewed her lip hard until it nearly bled. "…what is it you want, then?" she asked.
Bill lifted his arm, pressing a button on Blendin's device, showing a hologram of what looked like a snow globe. "It might be locked in a unit somewhere, so you might wanna use those lock picking skills Fez taught you to get it," he said. "Bring it to me, and I'll fix him back to normal. No tricks."
There was a heavy silence between them before Mabel nodded. "Alright," she said. "For Grunkle Stan." She held out her hand. "I'll get that thing you want, and you turn him back to normal RIGHT AFTER. No waiting."
"Smart girl," Bill replied, standing up and walking over, shaking Mabel's hand. "I will turn your Great-Uncle Stanley back to normal as soon as I have what I want in my possession, no tricks."
A lick of blue flames appeared around both their hands, sealing the deal.
Mabel stood up. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she said, running off. Bill's eyes followed her, the grin he conveyed on Blendin's face almost inhumanly sinister.