Mabel had finally gotten Ford out of the basement, telling him that "unusual energy readings" could wait until after a proper meal. It looked like she had come just in time too. His eyes were bloodshot with dark bags, his clothes (which were the same ones as yesterday, but Mabel was almost certain he'd been wearing them longer than that) were wrinkled and his grey hair was greasy from lack of hygiene. It had taken guilt tripping, persistence and a fake tear or two, but he'd finally agreed to leave his study.

Ordering him to go and take a shower, as she'd nearly lost her appetite at the smell when she'd gone downstairs to get him (Ford had to have lost his sense of smell to withstand it), Mabel had then started to rustle through the fridge to salvage something for a home cooked meal. Of course her options were sparse with Chinese food cartons, outdated jars of things she couldn't even recognize and others with hardly a spoonful of anything in them. However, she'd managed and, once Libby had returned, gotten the Pines clan together for dinner.

Afterwards Dipper and Libby had gone upstairs to crash, Stan had gone to digest in front of the TV and, to Mabel's pleasant surprise, Ford had offered to help her with the dishes.

"I must say, Mabel, that was the best leftover Chinese-Italian casserole I've ever had," he commented as he dried the dishes. "And it tasted pretty good too," he teased.

The grunkles had been skeptical of the dish at first, but after some reassurance from Dipper they had reluctantly tried it. Ford was almost sure it had to have been by some sort of fairy magic (their dust could really spice up anything, he'd discovered), but the unusual dish hadn't been bad at all.

Mabel laughed and said smugly. "I know. When you're a college student, you learn to be creative with meals." As she'd grown up her taste had still been a bit strange at times, but she'd managed to find a way to make it work. The combinations and flavors she used were odd, but surprisingly pleasant rather than putrid. She'd also learned to cut out the glitter and plastic dinosaurs. It really smoothed out the texture.

"Heh. I remember. College was good for me, but I have to admit it lacked a good meal or two every now and then." And a certain brother, but Ford would be lying if he said he wasn't content with how things had turned out. "Would have been nice to have you around when I was going to school."

"Same to you. Or even Dipper. I could have used a nerd around to help me when physics was kicking my ass in my final semester." She'd put off taking it all four years and, just as she'd predicted, the stress, confusion and frustration had probably taken years off of her life.

Ford chuckled affectionately. "Well, you still made it through, even without a "nerd" to fall back on and I'm proud of you for it, sweetie. I'm proud of the both of you." Dipper might not have taken up his offer of apprenticeship, but Ford could see that he wasn't the least bit wrong about the young man's potential.

"Even though I didn't get 12 PhDs?" Mabel paused in washing the dish in her hand, feigning an ashamed pout.

"Trust me when I say they're not as great as they sound," Ford laughed. "Everyone assumes I have a medical degree and then the hypochondriacs start swarming."

Mabel snorted. "And I'm sure you don't ever misuse that power," she smirked at him, recalling when Deputy Durland had once asked Ford about an unusual growth on his foot. With a completely straight face, Ford had told the officer his prognosis.

"We'll have to amputate immediately."

Durland had burst into tears while Blubs had comforted his partner, promising that he'd always be there for Durland to lean on. Literally, since no one had confidence that Durland had the muscles for crutches.

"Absolutely not," Ford denied. "I'm gravely insulted by the very notion," he deadpanned firmly, causing Mabel to laugh. There wasn't a crack in his expression. It was no wonder that he was so good at poker. Even Stan had a hard time telling when Ford was being serious or not.

"You're so bad." Mabel grinned at him with a giggle as she handed him the last dish.

"Hah. You should have seen me before I became a crotchety old man." Her uncle's expression finally broke into a smile and he nudged her with his elbow playfully. "Laugh while you can. It'll happen to you someday too."

"Getting old?"

"What? No. Getting off on tormenting complete strangers," he explained. They both burst out laughing and Mabel had to lean on the counter to steady herself.

She and Ford had grown so much closer compared to when they'd first met. He and Dipper had hit it off so well that she sometimes felt like she was intruding on them when they were together. Even if they were openly welcoming to her company, she often couldn't really follow what they talked about whether it was Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons or the anomalies. Mabel had just felt like she wasn't compatible with them on that level. And she really wasn't.

It was ironic that she finally really started to connect with him when they hardly saw each other. While he was sailing with Stan, the men often called to check in with their niece and nephew and the stories he'd told had hooked Mabel like nothing else. She might not have understood the science behind it, but he always had an epic story to tell and Mabel loved stories.

It was only a starting point, but it had been all they'd needed. With Dipper just as enthralled and Stan often offering his two cents, she felt like she belonged and they were all getting along like they were supposed to.

What was even more heartening was seeing Stan and Ford acting like real brothers. A far cry from what she'd witnessed when Ford had come from the portal and they literally had their backs turned on one another. A small part of her had feared that being stuck together on a boat would eventually send them at each other's throats again, but she never saw any evidence of it when they talked or visited.

"Thanks for helping me with the dishes by the way." Mabel began to wash the soap bubbles from her hand.

"No problem. It's the least I could do. I also apologize for my absence since you and Dipper have arrived. It's so easy to lose time down there, but that's no excuse," Ford told her.

"Is there a reason you've been so wrapped up in… whatever you're doing recently?" Mabel asked, wiping her hands. "You said something about energy readings?" Mabel frowned thoughtfully. Normally she wouldn't dare risk a question like this that could land her a complicated explanation worse than her physics course, but if it had her grunkle with bags under his eyes and looking close to a hobo, she would chance it.

"Uh, yes." Ford seemed to sense her slight apprehension and spoke simply. "You see, I've been getting these strange patterns and bursts. I've never seen anything like it, but I can't determine if they're real or perhaps my machinery is broken. It's all so old and so many things could be worn, broken or wrong that I don't know where to begin."

"I see…" Mabel really hoped that a certain triangle wasn't responsible. "Just try not to overthink it and take care of yourself," she told him with concern before smiling softly. "After all, I don't think Wendy will appreciate you passing out during her wedding."

Ford returned the look. "Of course. She's one of the last people I want mad at me." The scientist cringed at the memory of Wendy's last ex coming to the Shack to win her back. The poor guy's frontal lobe would never be the same.

With that, the two said goodnight. Ford disappeared into the basement once more and Mabel headed into Soos' break room. Dipper and Libby had taken the attic so she had taken the extra bedroom.

As she undressed to take a shower Mabel felt something in her pocket. After reaching in, she uncurled her hand and frowned at what she saw. In her hand was the tip of Bill's finger that had broken off.

"Fix it later," she mumbled before heading into the bathroom to shower.

…

Mabel groaned as she flopped down on the pillow, face first. The red numbers on her clock told her that she had been at this for two hours. She was definitely tired, but just couldn't sleep and she finally accepted this fact when she sneezed for the tenth time in the last half hour.

Getting up to grab a tissue, she sniffled and stood from her bed, noting that the air was pretty stuffy. They really needed to air out the old room. Reasoning that it was warm enough outside, Mabel opened the windows and headed for the kitchen in a tank top and pajama pants while the stagnant air filtered out of the room.

With a glass of milk, Mabel fingered the piece of stone in her pocket idly, letting her mind drift. She'd shoved it into her pant pocket in an effort not to forget about it, but something told her she wouldn't. It wasn't every day that a two dimensional demon who had nearly destroyed your family gifted you with a fragment of their body after all.

Mabel's nose wrinkled before she softly sneezed again. She prayed that there wasn't dust on her clothes too.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Her head snapped up towards the entrance of the kitchen to see Dipper. "You too?" she asked, doing her best to casually draw her hand out of her pocket.

"No, but my allergies got even worse about five minutes ago and I could tell Libby was at her limit with me," he replied, heading towards the fridge. If he hadn't left on his own he'd sensed that Libby would have thrown him out herself.

"Oh." Mabel blinked. "I thought it was just the dust in the old room."

Dipper laughed softly before quieting. He poured himself some milk and sat down across from Mabel.

"Still upset over your break up?" he inquired, causing Mabel to blink again. She actually hadn't thought about that with much bigger problems to worry about, but now wished boy problems were all it was.

"A little." Mabel ran her finger over the condensation forming on her glass.

"I didn't like him anyway," he murmured, gulping down half of his glass.

Mabel met his eyes with a pointed look. "You don't like any of the guys I like or date."

"Hey, Mermando was okay," Dipper reasoned.

"Then you're not upset over the first kiss thing anymore?" she inquired.

"I didn't say that, but thank you for dredging up that memory I tried so hard to repress." Dipper wiped his mouth off. "Anyway, I was fine with him." Dipper stood by his point.

"Bro, he got married to a Walrus princess." There wasn't much of a chance for them even before that and the twins both knew it. Even if it could have worked out, she realized now that Mermando was a preteen crush and a good friend. Nothing more.

"Queen of the manatees," Dipper corrected her.

"Not the point, Dipper."

"Just saying. It's kind of racist-"

"Now who's not serious?" Mabel retorted with a smirk over the rim of her glass.

"You'll find the right guy someday," Dipper stated earnestly. "How's that for serious?"

"Better." Mabel pretended she didn't look impressed though. She shook her head then, starting to feel depressed about the situation for real once again. "No, it's… it's fine. It's not my first break up, won't be my last."

"That doesn't sound very Mabel-like," Dipper commented admonishingly.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" She arched an eyebrow at him.

"You know that's not what I mean. It's okay to be hurt or sad. But don't give up either."

"I'm not giving up, I'm just… trying to be realistic." Mabel rested her head in her hand with her elbow on the table, frowning. "I… I'm not gonna lie. It's hard to keep trying and when things blow up in my face and I even saw it coming it makes me feel like I was stupid for even thinking things might turn out differently."

Dipper frowned sympathetically. "Trust me, Mabel. I know the feeling of fearing failure or worrying that things will go wrong. Putting yourself out there is scary, but it's the only way to let someone surprise you when things work out," he insisted.

"Says the man who doesn't believe in second chances," she shot back lowly.

"What?"

Mabel grimaced. She didn't mean for it to come out like that. "I just… what if I wanted to give someone a second chance? Or they wanted a second chance with me? They might have hurt me before, yeah, but that doesn't exactly jive with the whole "don't give up" thing." Why was she even asking him this when she wasn't even talking about dating anymore?

"Is someone doing that?" Dipper asked with crossed arms. She could already see he was getting protective. "Asking for a second chance?"

"Just say someone is," Mabel said vaguely. "I know you're all suspicious and paranoid, but… what if something happened with Libby and she wanted a second chance?" It was crude but effective. Dipper's relationship with Libby was great, but it seemed to get through to him because of that.

"Maybe not to date, but be friends," Mabel elaborated. The longer her brother sat there contemplatively, the more she began to feel guilty over her hypothetical scenario and regretted bringing it up. Knowing Dipper, he'd become worried that it might happen for real. Dipper had a problem of making his own self-fulfilling prophecies. If he stressed over something too much it often ended up happening.

At the quiet, pensive look on his face, Mabel shook her head and stood, abandoning her milk. "Just forget it. It was a random thought." She moved to leave.

His hand snaked out to snatch her arm when she passed by, holding her back. His grip was firm but gentle as he glanced back at her from his seat, eyes calm as he set her with a steady gaze.

"I won't tell you what to do, Mabel. You can make your own decisions. But I will tell you what I think," he spoke calmly. Mabel turned to face him and his hand slid from her wrist to her hand to hold it tenderly. The composure and seriousness on his face was stunning to Mabel. Dipper seemed like a different person and she realized he might have changed more than she thought over the years.

"You haven't been the best judge of character. You're self-righteous and you think you're right even when you're dead wrong. You act before you think and your optimism and trust borders on stupidity-"

"I think I'm done wanting to know what you think," Mabel interrupted hurriedly with a blush. She knew exactly what he was talking about and having her mistakes thrown in her face was not helping. "I already feel so much better, so I really just wanna go to bed and-"

"Listen to me." Dipper squeezed her hand with a sigh. "You're not perfect, but neither am I or anyone else. And let's face it. Your decisions tend to work out when it matters. You forgive people, you look past what you can see and people respond to that. Good people do." A small smile cracked on his face. "You might get hurt, but that just means you shouldn't want anything to do with them in the first place. If you just do what you think-no, do what you feel is right, I think you'll be fine."

Mabel stared at Dipper, speechless. "Y-You really think so?" All their lives she was the impulsive, careless one and he was the smart, logical one. Dipper always saw the flaws before they could bite you in the butt and Mabel almost always regretted not listening to him. But every time a similar situation arose she reasoned that it would be different from the past, but it never felt like it was.

"Of course I do, Mab-ah!" Dipper had to grab the table to keep them from tumbling back in his chair when Mabel suddenly tackled him in a hug.

"That means a lot, bro. Thanks." Mabel held back tears, grinning happily. If Dipper thought it was true, maybe she wasn't the perpetual screw up she thought she was at times.

Hearing her sniffle, Dipper smiled and hugged her back. "Allergies acting up again?"

Mabel nodded as Dipper wiped at his own eyes.

"Me too."

…

Why she was not surprised?

"Jeez, Shooting Star. Took you long enough to fall asleep." Bill twirled the handle of the tea pot in his possession with his finger.

"Please just tell me I'm not passed out in the woods." In the past when she'd been pulled into the mindscape her memories before entering it had been somewhat fuzzy until she woke up.

"No, you're safe and sound in your bed… for now." Bill broke into a fit of hysterical laughter that trailed as he realized Mabel was staring at him expectantly with her arms crossed, unaffected.

"Psst. Shooting Star. This is the part where you go 'What is that supposed to mean?' or 'Darn you, Bill, and your dastardly plans! You'll never get away with it because we're meddling kids!' or some equally predictable drivel," he informed her with a pointed look.

She stared at him with slightly parted lips. Mabel had expected some mockingly falsetto pantomime of her voice from him. Instead, he had given a strikingly accurate impression of her voice that felt more than a little creepy coming from him, especially in his human form which she was still getting used to.

"You're insane," Mabel declared.

"No shit, Joseph. Or was it Jerome?" (1) A thoughtful look crossed the demon's face. "I can never remember which one it was," he muttered before seeming to mentally dismiss the conundrum by throwing his arms up.

In the process he caused the tea pot he had been twirling to smash into the ground and they both watched as a dark mass filled with multiple melting faces rose from the shattered remains, screaming horrifically before it dispersed into nothing.

"So that's where I put my nightmare fuel," Bill realized with a snap of his fingers.

"Changed my mind," Mabel piped in. "You're beyond insane."

"Ah, shucks. I snort the ashen remains of my victims one eyeful at a time just like everyone else." Bill grinned bashfully.

"… Can I go back to sleep now?" Mabel nearly pleaded, paling as she held her head.

"Ah ah ah, business before pleasure, Shooting Star." Bill wagged his finger at her.

"Like snorting ashen remains?"

"You get more of a high if you add some seasoned salt to it," Bill informed her. "Better flavor too."

"Mabel out." The brunette decided then and turned on her heel to start walking off into the grey abyss. There was nothing ahead of her and she had no idea where she was going or if she was even moving, but it was better than standing there and witnessing Bill's psychotic ways.

"Now now, Shooting Star. Is that any way to treat someone who's trying to make you a very reasonable proposition?" Bill appeared beside her, standing completely still despite the fact that she kept walking and even hurried her pace. Either he was floating along with her or he had her on some kind of invisible treadmill. Or maybe it was neither. Nothing ever made sense in the mindscape.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again. You make bad deals." She wasn't the stupid little kid anymore that Bill clearly thought she was. The demon always had something up his sleeve and she refused to play along.

"Just hear me out and I may just surprise you," he offered with a smile that was sickeningly innocent.

"Do I have a choice?" Mabel finally stopped and turned to him, crossing her arms dully.

"Nope!"

(1) Joseph Bell and Jerome Caminada: two men suspected to be the real life inspiration for Sherlock Holmes. Which one has yet to be concluded.

Author's Note: You guys are all just too awesome and wonderful. Thank you so much for your comments and even if you didn't comment thanks for taking the time to read my story. It really means a lot to me. Writing is a personal thing and should be done for you and not for anyone else, but you guys really make writing worthwhile for me. You'll hear this spiel a lot, but I really mean it and really do thank you all.