Archive of Our Own

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The ride home from the theatre is eerily quiet.Dipper hovers on the edge of consciousness, sandwiched between Mabel and Wendy in the back of Stan’s car, cradling his arm in his lap. He’s not sure what else Bill did to it besides knocking him down the stairs, slamming it in a drawer, and getting forks stuck in it, but moving it sends waves of pain shooting up through his muscles. It’s hard to pinpoint what other injuries he might have because everything vaguely hurts, and because the combination of adrenaline and having had his mind inhabited by a dream demon has left his thoughts in a frenzied haze. He knows he probably needs medical attention—he did take a couple of serious falls today—but he’ll deal with that when he can think straight. A full night of sleep, maybe even a full day, and then he’ll process all this.He notices Mabel staring intently at a piece of paper, her expression somewhere between shock and horror, but he’s too tired to ask about it. He lets his eyes slip closed, and the motion of the car makes him fall against Wendy’s shoulder, which he should be embarrassed about, but he can’t find it in him to care. She doesn’t seem to mind—or at least, she doesn’t push him off.Dipper’s body is so tired, and so heavy. He wants nothing more than to give in and let sleep take him. But he can’t shake the deep-seated feeling of his body having been invaded. It’s like sitting down on a warm seat and knowing that someone was sitting there before you. He’s acutely aware of every sensation in his body, but at the same time, it still doesn’t quite feel like his body.There’s pain in places he doesn’t remember hurting, his face feels like it’s been stretched out from all of Bill’s demented grinning, and his left eye feels like it’s being stabbed from behind. The pain is bad enough, but the sheer violation of it all is even worse.Bill had full access to him. Bill had full access to his body because Dipper let him. Now he doesn’t even feel safe in his own body, and he has no one to blame but himself.They might have gotten rid of Bill for now, but Bill left him with the reminder that he has the power to take anything from him. A reminder in the form of this disconcerting sensation threatening to drag him away from reality. His body is his. His body wasn’t his. His body is his. His body isn’t—It’s almost like Mabel senses that he’s spiraling—she’s always had an uncanny way of knowing when he’s upset—because she takes hold of his hand and traces her thumb back and forth along his palm.It’s such a simple gesture, but nonetheless, it’s a powerful reminder. He can feel her hand in his.He’ll be fine for now.  “Dipper? Hey, Dipper, we’re home.”Mabel is lightly shaking his shoulder to wake him up. He’d somehow managed to mash his face into Wendy’s arm in his sleep, and now has a face-full of flannel. She’s looking down at him with a bemused smile. “You with us, Dipper?”Dipper groans and pushes himself up. He’s still in a haze, and everything hurts just as much as it did when he fell asleep, but he’s awake enough to make it inside the Shack. “Yeah, I’m with you.”“Come on, bro-bro. I’ll help you inside,” Mabel says, gingerly placing his arm over her shoulder and guiding him out of the car and into the Mystery Shack. He’s grateful, because his body feels like it’s made of stone and he’s not sure he could have made it on his own.As much as Dipper wants nothing more than to go upstairs and crash, Stan insists on cleaning his wounds first. Dipper begrudgingly obliges, partly because the thought of leaving them untreated makes him anxious, but mostly because Stan is wearing an uncharacteristically worried expression.Mabel and Wendy are lingering in the corner of the living room, whispering to each other. There’s a part of Dipper that hopes Mabel isn’t telling Wendy what really happened to him today—then again, maybe she deserves to know. He’s gonna have to tell Stan, too, but what if Stan gets mad at him for being too reckless and takes away the journal? Dipper can’t let that happen, not when he’s closer than ever to figuring out the secrets behind Gravity Falls. Even Bill said he was too close to the answers. Maybe Stan doesn’t need to know yet.Stan sits him down in his chair in the living room and rolls back the sleeves of his dress shirt. “I saw the way you were holding your arm,” Stan says. “You hurt anywhere else?”“I don’t know,” is all he replies. It’s too much effort to try to figure out where else he might be hurt, and even more effort to describe it.Stan holds Dipper’s injured arm gently as he inspects the cuts. Dipper notices his eyes lingering on the puncture marks from where Bill stabbed him with forks and prays that Stan doesn’t ask questions. He could easily pass off everything else as having been the result of falling from the catwalk and fighting with Mabel, but the four-in-a-row wounds are too distinct.“Dipper, can you tell me how you got these?”
Oh, no.
Dipper knows Stan is only asking because he’s worried, and the thought of lying to his Grunkle leaves a knot in Dipper’s stomach. Maybe he should just tell Stan the truth and accept whatever happens, but then again, Dipper’s not sure he even has the energy to explain it. He’s barely even processed it. How is he supposed to explain that he accidentally got himself possessed?“Grunkle Stan, can we talk about this later?” he says weakly.
Please say yes.
Stan scrutinizes him for an uncomfortable moment, but then he just nods.“That’s fine, kiddo. Let’s just get you cleaned up for now, okay?”Dipper breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay.”Stan sets about cleaning his wounds. Dipper starts to zone out again, until he’s yanked back to reality by the disinfectant stinging one of his fresh cuts. He hisses in pain and yanks his arm back out of instinct. Dipper expects Stan to just grab his arm and keep working, because Stan’s always had that “tough it out” mindset. What he does not expect is to look up and find Stan staring at him remorsefully.“You okay, kid? I didn’t hurt you too bad, did I?” Stan asks, his voice gentle.Dipper is speechless for a moment. “No,” he says at last, his voice tinged with wonder. “You just caught me off guard is all.”Stan delicately takes hold of Dipper’s arm again. “It might burn a little more, but I’ll be done soon. Hang in there, kid.”This behavior is wildly out of character for Stan, but after all the times Stan picked on him and made him do all the dirty work around the Shack, it’s a welcome change for Dipper. Stan’s never been the nurturing type, but getting a rare glimpse of his Grunkle’s softer side is sort of comforting. Although he’d never admit it out loud, Dipper wishes Stan would be like this more often, because as hard as he’s tried, Dipper knows he’s never going to be the tough guy Stan wants him to be. He’s not tough, and he’s not manly, and he’s finally okay with that. He just wishes Stan would stop with the tough love and be okay with it, too.“Well, kid, you’ve got some nasty bruises starting to form, but I cleaned all your cuts and it doesn’t look like anything serious,” Stan says at last. “Just…be careful, okay? You, uh, you had us kinda worried there.” He gestures towards the corner of the room, where Soos, having just returned in his own truck, is standing with Mabel and Wendy and staring at Dipper with a serious expression.“Okay. I’m really sorry, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper sighs. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”“I know you didn’t, kid. I just know you tend to get a little reckless with those adventures and mysteries of yours, and none of us want to see you get hurt. Now, you wanna try and get some rest?”Dipper nods. “Yeah. I, uh, I don’t know if I can make it upstairs, though. My…legs feel really weak.” He averts his eyes away from Stan’s gaze, because as much as he knows Stan isn’t judging him right now, he still hates feeling weak in front of him.“You don’t think you hurt them, do you?”Somehow, Dipper thinks that would have been better than the truth. “No, they’re just…shaky.”Stan’s frown deepens, turning from concerned to just sad. He seems to understand.“I guess today must have been pretty nerve-racking for you. Here, uh, why don’t I carry you upstairs?” Stan avoids meeting Dipper’s eyes, but his sentiment is clear.This is a new one, too. Dipper’s seen Stan pick up Mabel plenty of times—she’s particularly fond of sitting on his shoulders—but he doesn’t think Stan has ever picked him up. He’s not eager to make such a display of weakness in front of everyone, especially with Wendy watching, but the offer is tempting. Too tempting.“Okay. Thanks, Grunkle Stan.”Dipper reaches his arms out, feeling strangely young. Stan bends down to Dipper’s level so he can loop his arms around his Grunkle’s neck.“I gotcha, kid,” Stan says, scooping Dipper up like he weighs nothing. Dipper avoids looking in the direction of the crowd gathered across the room, because as much as he’s touched by the gesture, this is still humiliating. He decides to bury his face in Stan’s jacket instead—best if they can’t see his face and he can’t see theirs.Dipper lets his head rest against Stan’s shoulder, the rhythm of Stan’s footsteps calming him into a sleepy haze. Stan’s arms are warm and strong, and Dipper feels a pang of sadness when they reach the attic, because something about being held like this makes him feel so safe that he could forget about Bill for a little while, and he doesn’t really want Stan to put him down.Stan sets him down on his bed, and Dipper tries not to look too disappointed. Stan helps him take off his shoes and untie his tie, and then pulls the covers up over him.“Holler if you need anything, okay? I’ll just be downstairs. You rest well, kiddo.” Stan ruffles his hair before turning to leave, pulling the door closed behind him.Dipper presses his face into his pillow. He doesn’t really want to be alone right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Stan that. He wishes Mabel were here—he’s had his fair share of rough nights this summer, but they’ve been easier to handle because she’s always right there, just a few steps away. What if Bill invades his dreams? What if Bill possesses him again and hurts him, and no one’s around to see?Dipper pulls the blanket up over his head and tries not to think about it too much. He can’t fully block it out, but eventually, his thoughts fizzle into a vague, indiscernible, anxious haze as the fatigue takes hold. He falls into a fitful sleep.   
Dipper hovers over the catwalk, watching helplessly as Bill parades around in his body. It’s almost like Bill is trying to do as much damage to him as possible; he trips over set pieces and doesn’t bother to break his falls, he throws glitter in his own face, he tries to walk along a railing until he tips over and plummets head-first down the stairs.

Bill quits his antics when he sees Mabel ascending the stairs; she’s after the journal, and he knows it. Bill tiptoes up behind her, crouching at the top of the stairs and watching her attempt to reach her hand into the wedding cake. She stretches, reaching her body across the rail until she flips over it and falls inside the cake.

Dipper knows how this plays out; Bill will grab the rope and catch her, try to convince her to hand over the journal, and then drop the cake and jump after her when she refuses.

And Bill acts exactly as Dipper expects…until he doesn’t. He and Mabel are fighting on the stage now. Bill throws a punch, Mabel dodges. She swings the journal at him and misses. He lunges at her, snatches the journal…

…and smacks her in the face with it. Hard.

Mabel cries out in pain. Blood dribbles from her nose, splattering on the collar of her sweater. Dipper floats over the stage, screaming her name, trying to grab onto her shoulders, but to no avail. He doesn’t exist without a vessel. He can’t reach her.

The pain was enough of a distraction for Bill to get the upper hand on Mabel. Suddenly, he’s lifting her up by her throat and dangling her a few feet above the stage. She claws at his hands, gasping for air, but even in Dipper’s feeble body, he’s too strong.

“Sorry, Shooting Star, but you and your brother are a little too clever for your own good. I need that journal, and I need you out of my way. You were fun while you lasted. Say goodbye to Gravity Falls, kid!”

Mabel strains, kicking her legs and struggling, but Bill just tightens his grip, his freakish grin never faltering. Dipper screams—
and bolts upright in his bed.It must be the middle of the night, because Mabel is asleep in her bed and it’s pitch black outside.Mabel’s okay. It was just a dream. She’s fine.He’s hyperventilating, and he needs to stop. It wasn’t real—he knows that. But logic never seems to work on his anxiety. Mabel’s peacefully sleeping, unharmed. He doesn’t need to worry. They got rid of Bill and they’re safe now. But it was his hands that almost killed her—Dipper lays his head in his hands and forces himself to breathe. In for four, out for four, in for four, out for four, why isn’t it working, come on, keep counting, why isn’t it working—!“Dipper?”The voice startles him so badly that he can’t stop himself from gasping and recoiling backwards. But it’s just Mabel, perched on the side of his bed and looking at him with a sad expression. “It’s okay. It’s just me. It’s okay.”Dipper nods, his breaths still coming too quickly. She’s fine. She’s right in front of him and she’s fine. Why can’t he stop panicking already?He reaches for her. “Mabel—!”
Please understand.
“Shhhh.” She takes both of his hands in hers, squeezing them so the pressure will ground him. “I gotcha. Follow my breathing, okay? You’re gonna be fine.”She demonstrates for him, taking slow, deep breaths. It feels like an impossible task, but she’s looking at him with such tender intensity that he tries. It takes him a minute, maybe a few, but he manages to slow his breathing down to match hers. His heart is still hammering against his chest, and his breathing is still shaky and ragged, but it’s a start.Mabel leans her forehead against his, still clutching his hands. They’re clammy and trembling in her grasp, but Dipper can’t find it in him to be self-conscious. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the feeling of their hands touching; he’s gripping hers so tightly that he can feel both of their pulses.“There. You got it,” she whispers, bringing a hand up to rub his back. “You’re okay.”They stay like that for a while, pressed against each other, synchronizing their breaths. If Dipper weren’t so terrified, it would feel almost meditative—the way it’s almost silent, save for the sounds of their breathing and of his own heartbeat, gradually slowing from a hollow, frantic pounding to a steady rhythm. Eventually, Dipper’s anxiety calms enough that he can think clearly again.“Sorry I woke you up,” he says quietly.“Nope. No apologies. You know I’m not letting you do this alone.” She squeezes his hand again for emphasis. “That triangle thing isn’t getting anywhere near you ever again, and if he tries, he’s gonna have to get through me first!”Dipper laughs a little. It’s so typical of her, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.“So,” she says tentatively, “do you wanna talk about it?”He doesn’t really feel like it, but at the same time, he’d probably feel better if he got it off his chest.“It was…just a bad dream. A really bad one,” he begins, not meeting her eyes. “We were back in the theatre, and Bill still had my body. But he tried to kill you. With my hands.”Mabel is silent, and Dipper wonders if he said too much and freaked her out, too.“Oh, Dipper,” she says at last, her voice laced with sympathy. “No wonder you were so scared.”“Yeah,” is all he can get out, because he’s choked up now. Maybe it’s the relief of telling Mabel, of affirming that it wasn’t real. Maybe it’s just because saying it out loud made the sheer horror of it finally register. Either way, he feels like crying. Mabel won’t judge him for it, right?She notices the tears starting to stream down his face right away. “Hey, hey, hey, come here,” she whispers, pulling him into a hug. “I didn’t make you upset, did I?”“No, no, it’s not you. It’s just…I…I don’t know,” he says helplessly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”Mabel holds him under her chin, massaging the space between his shoulder-blades. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Dipper. Today was terrifying. It’s normal for you to be upset.” She hugs him tighter, letting him cry into her nightshirt. “But like I said, we’re not gonna let Bill hurt you ever again. You have me, and Stan, and Wendy, and Soos. You have the whole town! Well, except maybe Gideon,” she adds with a laugh. “But my point is, Bill isn’t getting through us, ‘cause we’re stronger than that dumb triangle. You’re safe, Dipper. I promise.”No one really knows how strong Bill is. Dipper can’t deny that fact. But Mabel’s sincerity is powerful enough to win him over, at least for now.Tomorrow, they can come up with a plan to defend themselves against Bill. They can get Wendy to help. They’ll figure it out.Tonight, he can rest knowing Mabel isn’t leaving his side.“Thanks, Mabel,” he says softly. “I, uh…I don’t know what I’d do without you.”“Probably get lost in that big head of yours,” she jokes. “But seriously, don’t you worry. I’m not going anywhere.”“I know,” he whispers. “I know you’re not."Now that the panic and the tears have subsided, Dipper realizes just how exhausted he is. He would just go right back to sleep, but he’s still wearing his suit from the play, and it’s starting to get a little uncomfortable. Not to mention the fact that the collar is damp with sweat.He’d probably feel better if he took a shower and put on some real pajamas.“Hey, Mabel,” he says softly, his head still leaning against her shoulder. “I think I’m gonna go get a shower. Do you, uh…do you mind waiting up for me?”“Of course I don’t mind,” she says sweetly. Mabel is so endlessly kind—sometimes Dipper doesn’t understand how she does it. “I’ll be here when you get back, okay?”“Okay.”Just as he anticipated, showering helps immensely. The hot water relaxes his muscles, melting away the tension he’d been holding onto and easing the soreness from his injuries. All the sensory input also keeps him from focusing on his body too much; he still can’t rid himself of the lingering sense of detachment from his body, of the way it doesn’t quite feel like his own, but having something touching him helps. (He’ll have to thank Mabel for helping with that, too.)The night is chillier than usual, so Dipper dresses himself in sweatpants and a flannel instead of his usual pajamas. When he returns to the bedroom, Mabel is sitting up in her bed, cuddling one of her plushies and staring disconcertedly at the wall. He’s about to settle himself in his bed when her voice stops him.“Hey, Dipper? If you don’t wanna sleep alone tonight, you can sleep next to me. I don’t mind.”Normally, Dipper would be too embarrassed to take her up on it, but he really needs the physical contact, and he doesn’t particularly want to sleep alone. If he has another panic attack, she’ll be right there, just an arm’s reach away.“Yeah, that…that would help,” he admits.“Yay! Mystery Twins sleepover!” she exclaims. Leave it to Mabel to put a positive spin on even the worst situations.Dipper grabs a pillow and an extra blanket from his bed. “Uh, can I sleep next to the wall?”“Sure, but like…why?” she laughs at him, but there’s no real mockery in it.“I just…like the wall. It’s comfortable.”“How can a wall be comfortable?”“I don’t know, it just is. Like, if you’re on one side of me, and there’s a wall on the other side of me, then it’s just…a nice little space. It’s cozy. You know?” Dipper sets up his pillow next to Mabel’s and climbs over her legs to lay down next to the wall.“I guess,” Mabel says, shrugging. She helps him spread out the blanket and pulls the covers up over both of them. “There. Comfortable?”“Mm-hmm.” He’s already melting into the pillow.“Hey, Dipper,” she says, moving to lay down next to him, “you’ll wake me up if you need anything, right? Promise?”“Promise.”Mabel wraps her arms around him and pulls him close. “Sleep tight, bro-bro.”Dipper returns the gesture, laying his head against her collarbone and hugging her back. This way, he can feel the distant rhythm of her heartbeat.She’s right there.“Good night, Mabel. Oh, and thanks. For everything.”She runs her fingers through his hair in a soothing rhythm. “Anytime.”   Dipper wakes up to golden light spilling through the window. The bed is empty next to him, but Mabel left her unicorn plushie tucked under his arm.The clock on the windowsill reads 1:26PM. He literally slept for almost an entire day.He goes to sit up, and pain shoots through the muscles in his back and shoulders. He winces and slowly reaches his arms up to stretch, his joints popping as he does so. Wow, he’s stiff.Standing up sends more pain through his sore body, radiating down his arms and legs. Maybe he should ask Grunkle Stan for some pain relievers.Dipper gets dressed and heads downstairs. Mabel’s sitting in Stan’s chair in the living room, watching some strange show with witches and a talking worm. “Dipper! You’re awake! Did you sleep okay?”“Yeah. Everything’s sore today, though,” he sighs.“Aww. Well, maybe you’ll feel better if you eat something. You missed breakfast, but maybe Stan could make you some lunch. I think he’s in the gift shop right now. Oh, and there’s leftover Mabel Juice if you need an energy boost!”“I think I’ll pass on the Mabel Juice,” he shudders, heading off to the gift shop.Stan is nowhere in sight, but Wendy is sitting at the register, her feet propped up on the counter. “Hey, look who finally decided to wake up!” she calls out when she sees him. “How you feelin’ today?”“Uh, alive,” he deadpans.“Well, alive is better than nothing, right?”He laughs, but it’s a hollow sound. “Have you seen Stan?”“He’s leading a tour right now. You need something?”“Food,” he groans. “I don’t think I’ve eaten in twenty-four hours.”“Well, it might be a minute before Stan’s back, but you’re in luck,” she says with a sly grin. “Wanna see something cool?” She waves her hand, beckoning him to come behind the counter. “Check out my emergency snack stash. I always keep snacks in this drawer in case of situations like this. Want some?”“I’ll take your whole stock.” Dipper pulls out a bag of pretzels and sits on top of the counter. “Oh, man. Wendy, you’re a lifesaver.”“It’s what I’m here for,” she laughs. “I started hiding snacks in here because this one time, I forgot my lunch and I asked Stan if he had any extra food. And he said yes, and I was thinking, ‘oh, man, that’s really sweet, Stan’s not usually this nice,’ but then he came back, and do you know what he brought me? It was a sandwich with bread in the middle. Like, just three pieces of bread stacked on top of each other. Naturally, I was like, ‘Stan, what the heck is this? It’s just three pieces of bread,’ and then he had the nerve to tell me that it was a toast sandwich. He said it was a British thing. I ate it because it was the only food I had, but let me tell you, the fact that the bread in the middle was toasted was not enough for me to call it a sandwich. After that, I swore I would never depend on Stan for food again. So I started hiding snacks in here. You and Soos are the only ones who even know about it…,” she trails off. “Uh, dude, you’re not listening to me, are you?”Dipper’s not sure when he zoned out, but at some point during Wendy’s rant, the rug in front of the vending machine caught his eye, and now he can’t think of anything else because it looks like Bill. It’s too specific to be a coincidence. Why would Stan have a rug that looks like Bill? Is Stan connected to Bill somehow? Is that why Bill invaded his mind when Gideon asked him to? Maybe Stan betrayed him and now Bill is out for revenge. But then why would he still have the rug? And come to think of it—“Hello? Earth to Dipper?” Wendy’s leaning over the counter, looking him in the eyes. “Are you okay, man?”“Uh, yeah!” he says quickly. “Sorry, I just…zoned out.”“Don’t sweat it, dude. But seriously, are you sure you’re okay? You were doing that thing where you chew on your lip. You always do that when you’re thinking really hard about something.”“Yeah, it’s just…,” he hesitates. Wendy’s always taken him seriously. She’s not gonna think he’s crazy, right?“Listen, I know this is out of nowhere, but look closely at that rug in front of the vending machine.” He points across the room, and her eyes follow. “Do you see what I’m seeing?”Wendy walks over to get a closer look. She stands directly behind the triangle, studying it intently. When she looks up at him incredulously, he knows she sees it, too. Wendy may have never seen Bill face-to-face, but he’s instantly recognizable even from the pictures in the journal.“It’s Bill,” she says in disbelief. She frowns, staring at him pensively for a moment. “Come outside with me for a second.”She’s not upset, is she? Tentatively, he follows her out to the front porch. She sits down on the bench and pats the space next to her. He takes it and tries to relax, but he can’t stop shaking his leg.“I hope you’re not upset, but Mabel told me about what happened to you yesterday,” she begins. “I guess I’m just worried. About you, because I know you’ll never admit to it, but I can tell you’re still freaking out. But also about that rug. I think it’s safe to say there’s something going on here that’s bigger than what we know. Listen, if this is too much for you, you don’t have to talk about it, but hearing your side of the story might help if we wanna put together everything we know about Bill so far.”Dipper bites his lip and considers. She’s right; if they want to get to the bottom of this, they need to assemble all the clues they have. But every time he thinks about it, he starts spiraling, and what if it happens again and he panics in front of Wendy? It’s one thing with Mabel. They’ve witnessed enough of each other’s weakest moments that breaking down in front of her doesn’t faze him anymore. But this is Wendy, whom he’s still not over, despite his efforts. She’s so laid-back and level-headed, and he is anything but that, and the last thing he wants is for her to think he’s weak.But if he hides the truth from her, then Bill has that much more power over them. Bill could hurt Wendy. He can’t risk that.“Do you remember the laptop we found in the bunker?”She nods.“I knew that laptop could be the key to discovering something big. But when I tried to open it, I realized it was password-protected. To uncover its secrets, I needed to figure out the password first. I spent the whole week before Mabel’s show trying to figure it out. I barely slept. I don’t think I ate much, either. I tried every possible combination, but nothing worked. The day before the play, I stayed up all night. I worked all the way through until just a few hours before the show.” He stops, takes a breath, steels himself. “I don’t know what happened. I was sitting in the window seat in the attic—oh my gosh, Wendy, that window!”“What about it?”“How did I never see it before? It has the same design as the rug! I was sitting in front of it working on the laptop, and then the laptop said I’d had too many failed attempts and it was gonna erase all its data in five minutes, and suddenly Bill was coming through that window and offering me a deal. He said he’d give me the password, and all he wanted in return was a puppet. He was pointing to Mabel’s sock puppets. I thought that’s what he meant. But then I shook his hand and he took my body. He—he just ripped my soul out of my body and possessed it. He said I was in the mindscape, and without a vessel, I didn’t exist. No one could see me, no one could hear me. Then he destroyed the laptop because he said I was ‘too close to the answers,’ and he wanted to destroy the journal next so I would be out of his way. But then he just started hurting my body. He threw it down the stairs, he poured soda in my eyes, he slammed my arm in a drawer and got forks stuck in it—I don’t even know what he did to it after he got in the car! He got too far ahead of me. I couldn’t see what he was doing. He could have done anything—!”Wendy grabs his arm and squeezes it. “Dude, calm down. You’re freaking out again.”His shoulders are tense, and he’s breathing heavily. He didn’t even notice.He puts his head in his hands and takes a deep breath to ground himself. Wendy’s grip on his arm helps. He’s fine. He’s fine.“For what it’s worth, I was in the car with him,” Wendy says. “All he did was…write something on a piece of paper? I don’t know what it was, but I know he didn’t hurt you. The only time I couldn’t see him was when he was backstage, but Mabel and Candy and Grenda were all back there, so you could ask them if you’re worried he did something then. Come to think of it, though, I saw Mabel reading something on a piece of paper on the way back from the theatre. I think you were asleep. We should probably ask her about it.”“It could be important. Really important,” Dipper says hurriedly. Anything involving Bill could be a matter of life or death. He can already feel his heart rate climbing again. “We should go get her right now!”He springs up and runs back inside before Wendy can say anything else. Mabel is still sitting in front of the TV; she looks startled by him bursting into the room.“Dipper? What’s going on?”“Wendy said Bill wrote something on a piece of paper in the car while he still had my body, and she thought she saw you reading it,” he spits out, still panting from the exertion.Mabel pales, her face contorting into an expression of absolute horror. She just stares at him, her hands gripping the arms of Stan’s chair so hard that her fingertips are white.“Mabel? It’s…it’s bad, isn’t it?” he says tentatively.Mabel takes a shaky breath and looks like she’s considering whether or not to tell him.“Please.” His voice is strained. “I have to know.”She sighs and stands up, finally relenting.“Wait here.”She disappears upstairs. He looks behind him to see Wendy standing in the doorway, her face pulled into a frown. When he notices her, she walks up behind him and rests her forearms on his shoulders, setting her chin on top of his head and leaning on him.“You’re short,” she says.It manages to get a laugh out of him.Mabel reappears with the journal in her hands. She’s hugging it to her chest, lingering a few feet away from him, her body tense.“I put it in the journal while you were asleep yesterday,” she begins. “Listen, Dipper, before I show you this, I want you to know that we’re gonna keep you safe, no matter what.”He’s about to voice his confusion when Wendy pipes up.“Why don’t we take this back outside?” she says. She’s still leaning on his shoulders; she can probably feel how tense he is. He makes a mental note to thank her later.Wendy peeks in the door to the gift shop to make sure no one’s inside. When she confirms that the coast is clear, she waves her hand for them to follow her outside.Mabel sits on one side of him, Wendy on the other. Mabel hesitantly holds the journal out for him to take.“Like I said, we’re not gonna let this happen to you. I promise.” She opens to the bookmarked page, where a crinkled piece of paper is taped to the page with a caption written in pink pen. Mabel grasps his arm and leans against his shoulder.He takes a deep breath and begins reading.
Note to self: possessing people is hilarious! To think of all the sensations I’ve been missing out on—burning, stabbing, drowning. It’s like a buffet tray of fun! Once I destroy that journal, I’ll enjoy giving this body its grand finale—by throwing it off the water tower! Best of all, people will just think Pine Tree lost his mind, and his mental form will wander in the mindscape forever. Want to join him, Shooting Star?
Dipper doesn’t even realize Wendy is reading over his shoulder until he hears her whisper, “What the hell?!”It’s enough to snap him out of his trance. He’s not even sure how long he’d been sitting there, staring at the paper, paralyzed.He almost died yesterday. He literally almost died yesterday. If it weren’t for the fact that he’d taken such poor care of himself all week, Bill might have actually been able to pull it off.
And he wanted to drag Mabel down with him.
He’s chewing on his lip so furiously that it starts bleeding.“Dipper?” Mabel says pensively.His heart hammers against his chest.“Why didn’t you tell me?” he snaps, whipping around to look Mabel in the eyes. She releases her grip on his arm backs a few inches away from him.“I—you were so tired yesterday,” she stammers. “You couldn’t even think clearly. I didn’t want you freaking out about this, because then you wouldn’t sleep, and you needed to.”“But Bill could have gotten me in my sleep! He could have gotten you! He could have gotten any of you!” Dipper is fuming, gesturing wildly in Mabel’s direction, his breaths coming in ragged bursts. “What’s more important? My sleep or my life? All of our lives?!”“Hey,” Wendy says firmly, putting her hand on his knee. “Dipper, stop it. Don’t take this out on her. The whole reason Mabel was able to get him out of your body in the first place was because your body was so exhausted that he couldn’t keep control of it. He couldn’t have done anything to you in your sleep because you were still exhausted and you were injured. And Bill got ahold of your body because he offered you something you needed, right? Well, none of us need anything from him, so there’s no way he could have gotten to us.”Wendy’s right. Why is she so much better at rationalizing things than he is?“Yeah. None of you would be stupid enough to fall for his tricks,” he mumbles. “Maybe I should just give Stan the journal and forget about all this.” He folds his arms and curls in on himself.“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Wendy says. “Bill preyed on you. That’s seems to be his whole gig. He figures out people’s weaknesses and then uses them to get his way. He lied to you. Get that in your head.”“I know,” he says, his voice hushed. “I know. I just…we were all in danger because of me. We might still be in danger. And I let it happen over that stupid laptop.”“Dipper, stop it,” Mabel begs, tugging on his arm. “Wendy’s right. This is Bill’s fault, not yours. I’m not mad at you for it, anyway.”“Neither am I,” Wendy pipes up. “Seriously, dude, you gotta stop beating yourself up about this.”“Yeah,” Dipper sighs. “I know. I’m sorry. For lashing out like that, I mean. I don’t know what came over me.”“You’re just scared. People do crazy things when they’re scared,” Mabel says, settling against his shoulder again. “Did you read the last part?” she asks, suddenly shy. She points to the pink writing underneath the note.
I feel like a real jerk after all this. I totally ignored Dipper’s warnings, I took his journal without asking, and worst of all, I was so obsessed with my play I didn’t even notice Dipper was possessed! And I of all people should know—I possessed Dipper’s body once, too. (Hope I never see that swap carpet again.)

Dipper, whenever you read this, I want you to know I’m sorry. And for the next week, IOU ice cream sandwiches, on me. Love—Mabel.
When he looks up, she’s wearing a tiny frown.“I know you’re still gonna keep on blaming yourself, but for what it’s worth, I messed up, too. I’m sorry I didn’t show you the note sooner. You’ve just…been acting all weird since yesterday, and I didn’t want to make you any more upset than you already are.”“I’m not mad. I promise,” he assures her. “I just…kinda freaked out earlier, and I took it out on you.”She looks down at her hands, folded tightly in her lap. “I just feel bad because if I had helped you with the password, we might have figured it out and Bill would’ve never made you that deal.”“Mabel, it’s okay. I swear, I’m not mad. We both made our mistakes.”“Not to interrupt, but is this whole ‘blaming yourself for everything’ thing like…a family trait?” Wendy interjects. “Because you guys have kinda been at this for a while. It’s starting to get concerning.”Dipper and Mabel exchange glances and shrug.“Stan doesn’t seem to blame himself for scamming tourists all day, so I wouldn’t call it a family trait,” Dipper mutters.That gets a laugh out of Wendy. “True. But seriously, you two have got to stop with this.”Dipper groans. “I don’t think you realize what you’re asking of me.”“Oh, no. How dare I tell you to stop having the worst self-esteem of all time,” Wendy deadpans.Dipper rolls his eyes. “You got me.”“Hey, Dipper?” Mabel says, her voice tiny.“Yeah?”“Come here.” She opens her arms to hug him.He sinks into her embrace and sighs, letting her wrap him up in her arms. He’s so, so tired.“We’re gonna be okay,” Mabel says. He’s not sure if she’s saying it for herself or for him.“We know what Bill’s all about now,” Wendy says. “We figured out what his method is. So now, we know that if he offers us something we want, it’s a trick. We know how to avoid him.”Dipper has a feeling it’s a lot more complicated than that, but it’s a start.“I can hear you thinking over there,” Wendy says teasingly, resting her hand on his shoulder. “I’m serious. Knowing what you’re up against is the best way to protect yourself. It’s what my dad always taught me growing up. You’ve personally dealt with Bill twice now. You know how he works.”“What about the rug, though? And the window? We never figured out how that ties in,” Dipper says.Mabel looks at him in confusion; as he explains what he and Wendy noticed earlier, he can almost see the wheels turning in her head.“You guys don’t think Grunkle Stan has anything to do with Bill, do you?” she asks slowly, as if she’s afraid to even suggest it.“That’s what I was afraid of,” Dipper confesses.“But Stan has done nothing but try to protect you guys,” Wendy argues. “I literally watched him clean your wounds yesterday, Dipper. And carry you upstairs. That’s as protective and caring as it gets. Why would he do all that if he was in league with Bill?”“Maybe he’s not on Bill’s side, but he knew Bill in the past, and he knows how dangerous he is. Maybe he figured out I was possessed, and he knows what Bill is capable of, and that’s why he was so worried.”Suddenly, one idea after another starts to fall into place. The feeling of putting the pieces together is one he’s more than familiar with, but it never gets any less invigorating. It makes him feel intelligent, accomplished, worthy.“Come to think of it, we don’t really know anything about Stan’s past. What if Bill helped him get the Mystery Shack? What if it belonged to Bill before it belonged to Stan, and that’s why there’s so much stuff in there that looks like him?”“But if Stan knew how dangerous Bill was, why would he keep all that stuff?” Mabel says.“Stan’s cheap. Really cheap,” Wendy says. “He literally saves everything. You should see the stuff in the storage closets. He probably just kept all of Bill’s stuff so he wouldn’t have to pay to replace it.”“Oh, man. I forgot I told Stan yesterday that I would tell him what happened. I know it’s a risky move, but maybe I should just ask him about the Bill stuff myself and see if he knows anything about him,” Dipper says. “I’m just worried he’s gonna get mad about us going into the bunker and take away my journal.”“Maybe Grunkle Stan needs to know,” Mabel says thoughtfully. “I mean, Wendy’s right. He seemed really worried yesterday. He’s just looking out for us.”“Besides, Soos and I know every inch of this place. If Stan takes your journal, we’ll find it,” Wendy says, flashing a sly grin.“Okay,” Dipper says. “I—wait a minute!”Another piece of the puzzle clicks into place.“What?” Mabel and Wendy say at the same time.“The author of the journals knew Bill personally. He called Bill his ‘muse,’ and he let him go inside his mind whenever he wanted to because Bill claimed to be inspiring him with knowledge. But then he realized that Bill was just using him to, like, try to destroy reality as we know it, so he stopped working with him. What if the Shack once belonged to the author? I mean, think about it. The author saw Bill as a muse. He probably thought Bill was some kind of god. He probably had all that stuff that looked like Bill because he was, like, worshipping him.”Mabel and Wendy stare at him, stunned.“Oh my gosh. That makes…perfect sense, actually,” Wendy breathes. “And if that’s the case, then it puts us one step closer to figuring out who the author really is.”“Do you think Grunkle Stan would know if the author used to own this place?” Mabel asks.Dipper frowns. He’s going to have to talk to Stan sooner or later anyway.“Only one way to find out.”   Later that afternoon, after Stan finally feeds the twins (thank heaven for Stancakes), Dipper tells him everything.Stan tries to keep a straight face through it all, but the way his eyes widen and his mouth twists doesn’t evade Dipper’s notice when he explains what Bill did to his body.“Bill Cipher, huh?” Stan says when Dipper shows him the drawings in the journal. “Never heard of the guy, but something about that picture looks familiar.”A light bulb goes off in Dipper’s head. How could he forget?“Of course! You recognize him because he invaded your mind! When Gideon was trying to get the code to the safe, he summoned Bill and sent him into your mind to retrieve it. We used an incantation to follow him in there and keep him from getting it. But you must remember him subconsciously, and that’s why you recognized the picture.”“He got to me, too? How’d you manage to get rid of him?”“We learned that in the mindscape, you can conjure up anything you can imagine. So we used the power of our minds to defeat him. Also, I had some pretty cool laser eyes.”Stan chuckles.“Well, kid, I gotta say, I’m impressed. Now, I did tell you that I’d only let you keep that creepy journal if you promised to stay out of trouble. Which you didn’t. But if you used it to get this Bill thing out of my head, then I guess it’s got some value to us. You can hang onto it for now, but just…don’t do anything reckless, all right? I don’t…uh, I don’t think your parents would be very happy with me if I let some crazy triangle demon hurt you.”Dipper has to keep himself from audibly sighing with relief. He has the journal. As long as he has the journal, there’s still hope for him to get to the bottom of this mess.“Grunkle Stan? I have a question. It’s…kind of an important one.”“Sure, kid. Hit me.”“Earlier today, I noticed that the design on that rug in front of the vending machine looks kinda like Bill. And the window in the attic, too. You…don’t think Bill has any connection to the Shack, do you?”Stan’s eyebrows furrow. He’s quiet for a minute, but then he just frowns and shrugs.“I…wouldn’t know, kid, but let’s go take a look.”Dipper points out the rug in the gift shop. Stan stands over it for a minute, looking thoughtful, like he’s puzzling over something in his head. Dipper clenches his jaw. There’s no way Bill could actually have any connection to them, right?“Well, kiddo, I never paid this thing any mind until now, but I think you might be on to somethin’. This was here when I bought the shack back in the eighties. Some…uh, some hillbilly was selling it cheap. He left all his stuff here, and I just kept it ‘cause I didn’t see any reason not to. I think the guy might have been running from the law, which is funny, because so am I. But maybe he got spooked off by the weirdness of this town. Maybe he was actually running from Bill. I dunno, Dipper, but it kinda makes me want to ditch this stuff now,” Stan laughs.It all makes sense. If Stan bought the Shack in the eighties, then that would be about thirty years ago—around the same time that the author disappeared. And the author disappeared after he discovered Bill’s true nature and decided to hide his research. Maybe Stan is right. Maybe the author sold Stan the Shack because he was running from Bill. But if that’s the case, then the author probably left Gravity Falls altogether, which means it could be impossible to find him now.There’s got to be some evidence, though. Paperwork with the previous owner’s name or something. He’s going to have to think on it, but he might just be on to something.Is Bill targeting the residents of the Mystery Shack because he’s chasing after the author? Or trying to get revenge? Or was he so bent on destroying the laptop, the journal, and Dipper himself because he doesn’t want anyone to know the truth about the author?Dipper debates showing Stan the note, but he decides against it for now. He’s already on thin enough ice when it comes to keeping the journal, and knowing that Bill almost killed him might change Stan’s mind.“You worried about something, kid?” Stan’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. “You’re makin’ your little thinking face over there.”“I don’t know. I just wish there was a way to defeat Bill for good. I mean, I’ve seen all sorts of weird creatures in Gravity Falls, and Bill seems like he’s more powerful than all of them combined. But the only information the journal has to offer is just a warning to never let him into your mind.”“Then that’s what we do. No matter what he offers you, don’t agree to it. He’s a conman. I should know; I’m one myself. As long as none of us let him into our minds, he can’t do anything, right?”“But Gideon was able to send him into your mind just by summoning him. You didn’t agree to it.”“Gideon’s locked up. He can’t do anything. And besides, if you got him out of my mind, you could get him out of anyone’s. You’ve got your journal and your little spell or whatever. So quit your worryin’. It’s just making you miserable.”Telling Dipper to stop worrying is like telling Mabel to wear black every day, but he appreciates the thought.“Okay, Grunkle Stan. I’ll…uh, I’ll try.”“Dipper, one more thing. Look at me, okay?”Dipper tries his best to meet Stan’s eyes, but eye contact is difficult for him on a normal day, and Stan’s firm tone is making him nervous.“I know you like to throw yourself into all these crazy mysteries and conspiracies. And I can’t deny it, kid. You’re good at it. You’re smart. But I wasn’t kidding when I said this town is dangerous. And I didn’t even know about Bill yet when I told you that. I need you to promise me that you won’t go getting tangled up in things that are bigger than you. Weird little forest creatures are one thing. Demons that can invade your mind are another. You hear me?”Dipper nods. As much as he hates to even think it, maybe Stan is right. Maybe he needs to stay away from things that could kill him for a while. Or at least until he finds the author, because then he’ll have someone with far more knowledge and experience than him to guide him.He’s going to find the author, though, wherever he may have disappeared to. He’s more determined than ever.“I hear you.”   It isn’t particularly abnormal for Soos to stick around the Shack after his shift is over, whether to help with chores or just to hang out with Stan and the twins. However, Dipper does not expect to hear him hammering something in the attic as the sun is starting to set.He goes upstairs to see what the racket is about only to find Soos on a ladder, putting up a curtain rod above the window. Specifically, above that window.“Uh, Soos? What are you doing?”“Oh, hey dude,” Soos cranes his head around to look at Dipper, one arm still holding up the curtain rod. “Didn’t see you there. Just thought I’d put up this curtain in here, since you always like to sit in front of this window with your books, and you said the light bothers your eyes sometimes.”It’s true that the light does bother Dipper’s eyes, but he knows that’s not the real reason. It’s sweet that Soos remembered such a minuscule detail about him, though.“Oh. Thanks, Soos,” Dipper says, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.“Anything for my Pterodactyl Bro,” Soos says.Dipper has a feeling he knows exactly who put Soos up to this. He has an even stronger feeling the next time he goes into the gift shop and finds the rug gone.
Thanks, Wendy.
   Dipper tries his best to follow Stan’s advice, but as long as he’s in Gravity Falls, he’ll never be too far away from mysteries and strange beings. Some of them dangerous—like Soos’ crazy pixelated girlfriend, or the hand-stealing witch.But outside of that, he really tries not to get too far over his own head in mysteries. And he tries even harder to stop worrying.He doesn’t have the heart to tell Mabel, but after seeing that note, sleep is becoming more and more scarce.He believes what Stan said. What Wendy said. What Mabel said. He knows that they have enough information about Bill now to make them more resilient against his tricks. He knows that if he ever sees that demon again, whether in dreams or in reality, the only thing he’ll agree to is punching the thing in its terrifying, oversized eye.But his stupid brain won’t stop torturing him with visions of every single catastrophe Bill could possibly cause, no matter how many times he tries to counteract them with logic. What if someone summoned Bill and sent him into his mind, and Bill killed him before anyone could get him out? What if Bill got into his mind and no one even knew? What if, despite his vow to never trust him again, he had a lapse in judgement and fell for another of Bill’s lies? What if Bill possessed him again and actually killed Mabel? Or Stan, or Soos, or Wendy? He already had to hurl an axe into Not-Wendy’s stomach when the shapeshifter took her form, and he hasn’t stopped replaying that one in his head, either, because he was so close to actually killing Wendy.He tries to stop thinking about it. He tries so hard. He spends hours playing Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons against himself. He throws himself into mystery novels. He indulges Mabel in even her most ridiculous ideas. (He actually doesn’t look half bad in eyeliner. Sort of edgy.)None of the distractions work for long, though. It’s like his mind is stuck on a never-ending loop: a thought pops up. He starts panicking. He reasons his way through it. He thinks he’s overcome it. It pops up again. He believes it again. Rinse and repeat.When the anxiety isn’t keeping him awake at night, it’s infiltrating his dreams. Which is a problem, because Bill can also infiltrate dreams, and he’s having a hard time distinguishing the difference between Bill and his own subconscious.
Eenie, meenie, mynie, YOU!
(Sometimes, when he looks in the mirror, he swears he sees blood dripping from his eye.)It’s an uncanny parallel; Dipper is all too familiar with the pages in the journal covered in the author’s panicked scribbles and splatters of blood. The eyes and far-too-cheerful little triangles littering the margins. The confessions of seeing yellow eyes everywhere he went, of taping his eyes open and drinking loads of coffee to keep from sleeping.Maybe it serves Dipper right for ignoring the author’s warnings about Bill.
Whatever you do, never let him into your mind. Do not summon at all costs. My muse was a monster. I was a puppet. I’m being watched. TRUST NO ONE!!!
It’s not like they were written in the fine print.After waking Mabel up in the middle of the night for a second time, he starts to feel guilty about it, so he sets a rule for himself that he’s only allowed to wake her up twice a week. He knows she probably wouldn’t care if he just climbed in bed next to her every time he got anxious and went to sleep there, but he can’t bring himself to do it, because what if she starts losing sleep because of him?Dipper does his best to get used to functioning on a few hours of sleep and an ungodly amount of caffeine. If he did it the week before the play, he can do it again. He actually starts to genuinely appreciate Mabel Juice.For the sake of having some sense of normalcy, he maintains movie night with Wendy, despite having not slept at all the night before.They meet at her place today, which is sort of a blessing, because Mabel and Stan are starting to notice how strange he’s acting.“So, what’ll it be today? Should we try to actually find something decent to watch, or should we just hate-watch Nearly Almost Dead but Not Quite?” Wendy asks.Dipper settles on hate-watching; he doesn’t have the attention span today to focus on anything with an actual plot.Listening to Wendy make fun of the cheap special effects and terrible writing proves to be kind of relaxing. So much so that one minute, he’s laughing at the drugstore-quality zombie makeup and the next, the sun is almost completely down and he’s staring at Wendy’s ceiling.Wendy is propped up next to him, still watching TV, though he notices that the volume is significantly quieter. His hat is sitting on her nightstand, too.“Hey, there you are,” she says when she notices him rubbing his eyes.Dipper looks up at her hazily, a small smile forming on his face. “Hey,” he murmurs. “Uh, how long have I been asleep?”Wendy shrugs. “Couple of hours? It’s almost 9 o’clock.”“Oh, man. I’m sorry, Wendy. I slept through our whole movie night.”“Hey, don’t sweat it.” She flicks a lock of hair off his forehead. “No offense, but you looked like you needed it.”“Yeah.” He makes it a point to avoid her eyes.“I don’t mean to pry, but like, are you sleeping okay? This isn’t like you.” She’s looking down at him with a concerned frown.Well, there go his efforts to keep anyone from noticing.“Can you promise me you won’t tell anyone I told you this?” he says in a small voice.She smiles and makes her signature gesture of zipping her lips and throwing away the key.“I haven’t slept much since the first night after the play,” Dipper confesses.“It’s because of the note, isn’t it?” she asks cautiously.“That’s part of it, but it’s just…everything, you know? Like, when I’m awake, I’m scared he’s gonna get me in my sleep, and when I’m asleep, I can’t stop having nightmares about him. It’s just…a cycle.”“Yeah, that makes sense.” Wendy frowns thoughtfully, propping her chin on her hand. “How come you were able to sleep now, though?”“I don’t know.” Dipper puzzles over it for a minute. “I mean, sometimes it helps to have something to focus on, so maybe it was because the TV was on? Also, uh, it kinda helped that you were awake, because sometimes I’m worried Bill’s gonna possess me while everyone’s asleep and no one will know about it before…it’s too late.” He pulls his knees up to his chest and looks down at Wendy’s bedspread.“Huh. Hey, listen, I know I’m older and I’m supposed to be a good influence and I shouldn’t be encouraging you to mess up your sleep schedule, but what if you tried sleeping while someone else is awake?” she suggests. “That way, if anything were to happen while you were asleep, they’d be right there to see it.”She has a point. As sappy and pathetic as it sounds, he’d feel a lot better knowing someone was watching over him.“Okay. I’m not exactly sure how I’m supposed to pull that off without making it obvious, but it’s worth a try, I guess. For the record, though, my sleep schedule is already a disaster,” he laughs.“Should have guessed that. And so what if it’s obvious? Are you that worried about your family judging you?”“I guess I just don’t want to look weak,” he sighs.“You’re doing something that you know will help you. That’s, like, the opposite of weak. And besides, we’re talking about Mabel and Stan. I don’t think Mabel’s ever judged anyone in her life. And Stan might act like he’s all tough and everything, but I see the way he looks at you and Mabel. He’d do anything for you.”Dipper has to think over it for a minute to convince himself. Mabel and Stan have been nothing but kind to him since the…incident.“I…guess you’re right.”“I’m always right,” Wendy says with a flashy grin.He bursts out laughing. “Yeah, sure. But seriously, thanks.”“Anytime, man.” She smiles. “Stan will probably kill me if I keep you out too late, but wanna watch a little more? We could catch the end of The Planet People of Planet Planet.”“Sure thing.” He props himself up against one of Wendy’s pillows.They resume their usual routine of laughing at all the poor production choices and yelling at the TV when a character is about to do something particularly stupid. The movie is almost over when Wendy’s phone starts ringing.“Oh, man, it’s Stan,” she says, picking it up. “I hope he’s not mad at us.”When she answers, it’s Mabel’s voice ringing through the speaker. “Wendy! Where’s Dipper?”“He’s right here. We’re still at my house. I didn’t get him in trouble with Stan, did I?”“What? No, I just wanted to talk to him.” Mabel starts yelling so loudly that Dipper can hear everything she’s saying. “DIPPER! IF YOU DON’T GET HOME IN TIME TO WATCH DUCKTECTIVE, I’M GONNA LET WADDLES EAT YOUR JOURNAL!”“NOOOOO!” he screams, leaning in to the receiver. “I’LL BE HOME SOON, I SWEAR!”“You know you can just take the phone and talk into it like a normal person, right?” Wendy laughs. “Mabel, don’t worry, he’ll be home in time for Ducktective.”“Okay! Bye!” she sings before hanging up.Wendy closes her phone and chuckles. “Guess I should let you go before Mabel starts a war. Want me to drive you home?”“Are you even old enough to drive?”Wendy flashes finger guns at him. “Nope.”Dipper smirks. “That’s the spirit.”He retrieves his hat off the nightstand and follows Wendy out to her dad’s pickup truck.The interior is being held together by far too much duct tape for Dipper’s liking. “Uh, Wendy? No offense to your dad, but how exactly do you do this much damage to a car?” He points at the rear-view mirror, which is holding on for dear life by a haphazard wad of tape.“My dad could win a world record for destruction,” Wendy groans. “You should see how many things he manages to break. He’s living proof that there should be a limit on how much muscle is allowed to be on one person.”“Yeah, that tracks. He broke one of Grunkle Stan’s telephone poles clean in half once,” Dipper says.“Hey, I remember that telephone pole. Stan made me help Soos fix it. Why do I even get stuck cleaning up behind my dad at work?”“Just another mystery of Gravity Falls, I guess,” Dipper laughs.Wendy switches on the radio; it’s a miracle the thing still works. The signal is a bit weak, but through the bursts of static, Dipper can still make out the sounds of a distorted electric guitar.“I didn’t know you liked rock.”“Gotta enjoy my music when I can,” she laughs. “My dad always makes us listen to country. It makes my ears bleed.”“Ugh. You can say that again,” he groans.They settle into comfortable silence. Wendy keeps the radio low, and the soft background noise coupled with the motion of the car threatens to send him back to sleep. Luckily, Wendy’s haphazard driving keeps him from getting too comfortable; it’s a little difficult to fall asleep with her barreling over speed bumps and whipping around every turn.Finally, the Mystery Shack comes into view; Wendy slams on the brakes when she sees Gompers dashing through her headlights. “Jeez! I didn’t even know goats could run that fast. I always forget that thing lives here.” She turns and looks at Dipper questioningly. “Does he even live here?”He shrugs. “He’s been here every day since Mabel and I got here. No one ever questions it. He’s just…there.”Wendy snorts. “Fair.”Dipper is about to open the door when he stops himself, his hand still perched on the handle. “Hey, Wendy? Um, thanks. For your help, I mean. And for the movies.”“You got it, man. See you tomorrow?” She smiles, softer than her usual cheeky grins. Dipper tries to ignore how pretty she looks in the faint light, how the moonlight makes her eyes glitter.“See you tomorrow.”He waves behind him as he heads inside. As soon as he opens the door, he’s greeted by the smell of popcorn.Mabel bursts through the door to the living room. “Dipper! You made it just in time! It’s about to start!”She grabs his hand and drags him through the door. Stan is already situated in front of the TV, a massive bowl of popcorn in his lap. “There you are, kid! If you’d have been too much longer, me and Mabel would have eaten all the popcorn.”“Yeah, I could believe that,” he deadpans, taking off his hat and vest and hanging it on the banister.Dipper settles into the chair on one side of Stan, Mabel on the other, with Waddles situated on her lap. It’s a little squished, but in a cozy sort of way. As Stan switches on the TV, Mabel spreads a blanket over all of their legs.They all tear into the popcorn ferociously at first, but after they’ve polished it all off, Dipper feels himself growing sleepy again. The episode is drawing to a close, and he’s dangerously comfortable, curled up next to Stan with the blanket now pulled all the way up to his chin.It’s the most relaxed he’s felt in a while. Maybe he should give Wendy’s advice a try.Stan must notice him falling asleep, because when the episode ends, neither he nor Mabel make any move to get up. Instead, Stan wraps an arm around his shoulders, and Mabel stretches her legs across both of their laps, sighing contentedly.He’s asleep within minutes.   When Dipper wakes up in his own bed the next morning, having slept through the entire night, he thinks Wendy must be some kind of psychic.He manages to scrape by for the next few days using her strategy. He naps while Mabel busies herself with arts and crafts projects. He sleeps on the front porch while Soos fixes the golf cart for the hundredth time because Stan is too cheap to buy a new one. He joins Stan for late-night TV every night, and miraculously, Stan doesn’t press him for answers when he occasionally wakes up trembling and gasping.Also, Stan is strangely good at helping Dipper out of his panic attacks. He knows exactly what to say, what to tell him to do, when to touch him and when not to. Almost like he’s had experience with them.Maybe Dipper misjudged him.His sleep is still fragmented, still plagued with triangles and yellow eyes and water towers, but it’s better than nothing. A little Mabel Juice and he’s as sharp as ever.Sharp enough for another big break in the case, because it’s only a few days before Mabel discovers the words McGucket Labs on the shattered laptop, and Old Man—no, Fiddleford McGucket turns out to be the “F” from the journal. The author’s assistant who quit work on the portal after catching a glimpse of what lay on the other side. A glimpse, no doubt, of Bill.In a way, looking at Fiddleford is like looking in a mirror.The author had made frequent note of how anxious his assistant was, fearing that his anxiety would overcome his dedication to the portal project. He observed Fiddleford constantly bouncing his knee, occasionally pulling out his own hair, even becoming nearly mute at times.When Fiddleford finally abandoned the project, the author called him weak.Dipper still hasn’t stopped fearing that if he ever comes face-to-face with the author, he’ll think of Dipper the same way.He’s even more afraid because he sympathizes with Fiddleford. Sure, he knew the memory gun was a bad idea. He knew that it had destroyed Fiddleford’s life. He knew that the townsfolk deserved to know the truth about Gravity Falls. But when he first saw the tape of Fiddleford’s memories, of the young apprentice admitting to being unable to sleep because of what he’d seen and resorting to wiping his own mind to free himself from his plight, Dipper couldn’t help but entertain the thought of simply erasing his own memories of Bill and putting an end to all this.Still, he’s grateful to have found another person he can trust. As McGucket’s memories start to return, Dipper pays him frequent visits to help expedite the process. He brings along the journal and they sit side-by-side on hunks of scrap metal, flipping through the pages as McGucket pieces together his past.Eventually, Dipper confides in him about Bill. McGucket responds by teaching him what he can remember of the banjo, saying that he recalled it helping him ease his own anxiety back in his research days.It really does help. It gives Dipper something to do with his hands that isn’t fidgeting or picking at his skin, and the music is soothing. Perhaps more importantly, it gives Dipper a chance to connect with someone who actually understands what he’s going through. His family, Wendy, and Soos have done their best to look out for him, but it’s different having someone who’s lived through the sleepless nights and the spirals. McGucket might be a little kooky, but hey, Dipper knows he’s a little strange himself.McGucket still can’t recall the author’s name, but he starts to remember him as someone he once considered an invaluable friend. He remembers a man who started out bright-eyed and ambitious and ended up becoming entangled in a dangerous scheme that Fiddleford was sure was being driven by some higher being.Dipper shows him the pages about the author’s own dealings with Bill, and more than anything, McGucket seems relieved.“He really was a good man, Dipper,” McGucket insists. “He was just…led astray by that demon thing. He wanted to learn everything there was to learn, and I guess this Bill thing offered him answers. He thought he was doing the right thing by building that thingamajig. Thought he was doing a good thing for the world. But he got obsessed with it. He wouldn’t listen to reason. He didn’t care what he was risking. I was afraid he had become an entirely different person. But I guess now I can be sure that his heart was always in the right place. It was Bill and his lies that made him get like that.”“So, then, if we ever find him,” Dipper says slowly, “you think he’ll be on our side? He’ll help us defeat Bill?”McGucket smiles and nods. “I reckon he will, boy. I reckon he will.”Despite his hazy memories, McGucket talks about the author with nothing but fondness in his voice and a gleam in his eye. Dipper finds it harder and harder to be nervous about the prospect of meeting him when McGucket holds him in such high esteem.Besides, they’re closer than ever to uncovering the author’s identity. He doesn’t even have to worry about searching the Mystery Shack for evidence of its history. As soon as McGucket remembers the author’s name, Dipper will have the final key.He’s ready. He has to be.   A week later, Stanford Pines stumbles out of the portal, and Dipper can’t decide whether to be ecstatic or horrified.The author is his great uncle, which apparently he has another of. Dipper is blood related to the author of the journals.It should be everything he’d ever dreamed of, except for the fact that the author of the journals was also partially to blame for having ruined years of Stan’s life.What’s more, Dipper had tried to shut down the portal. If Mabel had listened to him, the author may have remained trapped on the other side for the rest of his life.So maybe they’re even. Ford sort of ruined Stan’s life, and Dipper nearly ruined Ford’s. Considering all the stupid mistakes he’s made in his own short life, Dipper finds it hard to hold Ford’s wrongdoings against him.As much as Dipper is resistant to forgiving himself, though, he has to give himself credit where credit is due, because he was right! Ford was the original owner of the Mystery Shack! (Though it eats at him a little that Stan lied about that, too.)A part of him wants to show off to Ford, to tell him how much he had figured out in the span of two months using only one of his journals, but he still isn’t sure what to make of Ford. The man regards Dipper and Mabel as test subjects more than as his nephew and niece, running extensive examinations on them and interrogating them rather than making any effort to get to know them. He takes the third journal and keeps it without saying a word about any of Dipper’s entries. In the first few days after his return, he never leaves the basement.Dipper finally works up the courage to ask if he can help Ford with his work, but Ford dismisses him with the claim that his work is too dangerous.It makes Dipper’s stomach turn, because he’s worked so hard to prove himself. He’s had more near-death experiences this summer than he’d like to recount. He’s shown time and time again that he’s so much more than just a child, but that’s all Ford seems to regard him as.When Ford discovers Dipper’s thirty-eight-sided die, though, things change.Turns out that beneath that aloof, self-important, stone-faced facade is a man who is exactly like Dipper. Ford is nerdy and excitable, if not a little socially awkward. He’s passionate about his interests. He’s clever and intuitive.It’s almost like Dipper was fated to meet Ford from the start. Maybe his time in Gravity Falls was less about unraveling mysteries and more about finding a kindred spirit.Dipper finally has someone to play Dungeons, Dungeons, and more Dungeons with him, and with equal enthusiasm. It becomes an avenue to help them get to know each other better (having to survive a real-life version of the game together certainly pushes the process along). Ford still says little about his past, aside from a few lighthearted stories of his adventures in the multiverse. Likewise, Dipper still can’t bring himself to ask him about Bill or to tell him about his own encounters with the demon.But it’s a start. They play together nearly every day, and Ford gains enough trust in Dipper to let him in on some of his work. Truth be told, Dipper is wary of keeping the interdimensional rift a secret, especially considering how much help Mabel and Wendy have been in helping him uncover the mysteries of Gravity Falls, but the thought of breaking his great uncle’s trust strikes enough fear in him that he keeps it quiet. Losing Ford’s friendship is not a risk Dipper wants to take, not when they’ve just started to bond.He keeps his anxiety a secret for the same reason. Ford seems to think the world of Dipper, that he’s intelligent and capable far beyond his years. What would Ford think of the fact that Dipper still rarely sleeps through a night?He hides it fairly well for a while. Ford is enough of a workaholic and a caffeine addict that Dipper can easily pass off his frequent fatigue and poor self-care as the result of a similar obsession with his work. He takes care not to fall asleep when Ford is around; Ford does not need to witness one of his nightmares.Having Ford around is somewhat of a comfort, because Ford knows Bill better than anyone. He knows Bill’s motives, his methods, his abilities, the extent of his knowledge. If something else were to happen, Ford would know how to alleviate the threat. Ford also provides him with enough distractions to keep his mind off of Bill, at least during the day.Nights are still tough, though. Dipper tries his best to fall asleep while Mabel is still awake. When that doesn’t happen, he hums to himself in an attempt to soothe himself to sleep—something that McGucket suggested. If even that doesn’t work, he resorts to staying awake until the fatigue catches up with him, occupying himself with mystery novels or watching TV with the volume turned down so Stan doesn’t hear.Through it all, he manages to keep up appearances in front of Ford. Even when Ford calls a family meeting and proceeds to show the twins a picture of Bill, Dipper carefully controls his expressions to keep the fear from showing on his face. He responds to Ford’s questions matter-of-factly.When Mabel mentions that he’d been “pretty paranoid since Bill turned him into a living sock puppet,” Dipper pointedly ignores the remark.Fortunately, Ford doesn’t ask about it, but instead shows them a way to protect the Shack from Bill’s magic. Dipper does his best not to let his relief show, either, but he can almost feel some of his anxiety melt away. Finally, finally, they’ll have a reliable way of protecting themselves from Bill.Dipper is even more grateful for the fact that Ford is always prepared with a backup plan. He knows the unicorn hair is a long shot, despite Mabel’s determination, so he brings Dipper to his lab and shows him a machine that will protect their minds against Bill—which is even more of a relief, because now Dipper won’t have to lay awake fearing that Bill will possess him again in his sleep.The fact that Ford can read his thoughts on a screen makes Dipper feel incredibly exposed, but it’s still less violating than being piloted by a demon as if he’s some kind of machine.He’s glad when Ford falls asleep at his desk, leaving Dipper to sit there as the device slowly does its work. He quickly grows bored, however, and he tends to make stupid decisions when he gets bored. Like putting the device on Ford’s head while he’s asleep because he’s too afraid to ask him what he knows about Bill, and because he’s so freaking insecure that he has to read Ford’s mind to assure himself that Ford actually thinks highly of him. You know, instead of just talking to him.Surely a little peek can’t hurt, right? It’s like Wendy said; the more they know about Bill, the stronger they’ll be against him.A montage of Ford’s past with Bill appears on the screen. Bill offers Ford a deal. Ford agrees to let Bill into his mind. Ford calls Bill a friend. His eyes turn yellow and cat-like in a way Dipper wishes he didn’t recognize.Bill laughs, unhinged and maniacal.
Trust no one. Trust no one. TRUST NO ONE!
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Ford’s voice booms, and suddenly he’s advancing towards Dipper, looking taller and far more threatening than ever before.Dipper snatches up the rift and backs away. Ford looms over him, reaching for it, his footsteps heavy.“Why were you shaking hands with Bill?” Dipper cries, clutching the rift to his chest and backing up towards the wall. “Why were you really scanning my thoughts? Are you Bill right now?”Ford holds up both hands defensively, but Dipper isn’t buying it. He’s seen Bill feign innocence before. He grabs the nearest thing he can use as a weapon—the memory gun—and aims it at Ford.“Now, just calm down, p—”Dipper panics.“PINE TREE? Is that what you were going to call me?” he screams, his finger hovering over the trigger, trembling.“I was gonna say ‘please,’ kid!” Ford shouts, but to no avail.He’s visibly shaking, and his hands are sweating, but he holds the memory gun steady, pointing it right between Ford’s eyes.“Great-Uncle Ford told me to protect the rift. Get one step closer and I’ll shoot! I’ll erase you right out of Ford’s head!” he screams.He backs into the wall. Ford comes closer and closer. Dipper sinks to the floor.Ford pleads with him, but Dipper won’t be deceived twice. He’ll protect the rift. He’ll protect his family. He’ll protect himself.
Trust no one. Trust no one. TRUST NO ONE!
He shoots.The beam ricochets off of Ford’s glasses and rockets around the room, bouncing from one wall to another, sizzling with energy.Ford grabs Dipper and drops to the floor, holding Dipper under his chin and wrapping his body around him like a human shield. The memory gun’s beam finally hits the computer screen, shattering it, and the room goes silent.Ford cups Dipper’s chin in his hand and tilts his head up to look him in the eyes.“Look into my eyes, Dipper. Look. It’s me. It’s just me,” Ford says soothingly.Sure enough, Ford’s eyes are normal.“It’s just me,” Ford whispers again, tracing his thumb along Dipper’s jawline. “Dipper? Are you with me?”Dipper takes a shuddery breath.“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, I’m with you.”“Good.” Ford gives him a soft smile. “Can you give me the rift? I’m not going to do anything with it, I promise. It’s just that you’re trembling and I’m worried you’re going to drop it.”Dipper drops the memory gun so he can hold the rift in both hands. Carefully, he extends it out to Ford, who takes it and secures it in one of his cabinets.“There,” Ford says. “It ought to be safe in there.”He sighs heavily and sits down on the floor in front of Dipper again, lightly gripping his shoulder.“I—I broke your machine. I tried to erase your mind,” Dipper says, his voice strained. “I’m so sorry, Great-Uncle Ford. I don’t know why you trusted me with all this.”“Listen to me,” Ford says firmly. “What you did was a logical reaction to what you saw, and frankly, it was a commendable reaction. I would have expected nothing less from you. Concealing my past with Bill was a selfish error on my part. I’m the one who ought to be apologizing.”“You’re not the only one hiding things,” Dipper confesses, dropping his gaze to the floor. “Do you…do you have the third journal?”“Yes, of course,” Ford says, producing it from one of his coat pockets. “What about it?”Dipper takes it from his hand and flips to the page entitled “Bipper,” containing a crude drawing of his possessed body, an entry written by Mabel, and Bill’s note.“I think it’s time you knew about this,” Dipper says quietly, handing the journal back to Ford.Dipper watches as Ford reads, his expression shifting from concern to horror to anger.When he finishes reading, Ford simply stares down at Dipper, his mouth agape, his eyebrows knitted together.“He got you, too,” Ford whispers incredulously. “I—I’m too late. I thought I could protect you all from him, but after all this time, he’s still ahead of me.” Ford shakes his head, distraught. “I’m sorry, Dipper. More than I can express. I didn’t want anyone else to have to experience what I went through. All the trials of the multiverse pale in comparison with the horror of knowing Bill had access to my mind. I suppose you’ve read my entries in the journal concerning those days. I barely slept for weeks. Everywhere I went, I thought I saw him. To this day, I’m still not sure how I didn’t lose my mind.” Ford tucks the journal back into his coat. “Dipper, are you…are you all right after all this?”Slowly, Dipper shakes his head, his eyes welling up with tears.“I’ve tried everything, Great-Uncle Ford,” he sobs. “I’ve tried rationalizing. I’ve tried distracting myself. I’ve tried learning everything I can about Bill so I’ll know how to protect myself. But I’m scared to sleep. I’m scared to be alone. I’m always scared he’s gonna possess me again and no one’s gonna know until it’s too late. Sometimes my body doesn’t even feel like my own. I—I don’t know what to do anymore, Grunkle Ford. I feel like I’m constantly one misstep away from losing everything.”He’s crying in earnest now; humiliated, he covers his face with his hands so Ford doesn’t have to see how pathetic he looks.A moment later, he feels a pair of strong arms envelop him, and suddenly he’s being pulled into Ford’s lap.“You don’t have to be ashamed,” Ford says gently. “You’ve read my journals. You know I was just as scared as you are. To put it bluntly, Bill traumatized you. You’re simply experiencing a natural response to a traumatic event. I experienced the same thing when it happened to me. It wasn’t easy, Dipper. But I can promise you that it will get easier with time.”“Can I ask you a strange question?” Dipper says slowly, scrubbing at his bloodshot eyes.“Go ahead,” Ford assures him, squeezing his shoulder for emphasis.“Did you ever blame yourself for everything? You know, everything with Bill?”“More than I care to admit,” Ford says, a tinge of sadness in his tone. “Logically, of course, I knew that Bill was a master manipulator who had made me his victim. But I had always prided myself on my intelligence, and the knowledge that I had allowed myself to fall for his lies ate away at me. I believed that I could no longer trust my own judgement. I felt like an absolute fool.”“That’s exactly how it’s been for me,” Dipper confesses. “Everyone keeps telling me that it wasn’t my fault, but I just keep messing up. I—I tried to shut down the portal because Stan wouldn’t tell us what he was after and I didn’t trust him. I just tried to erase your mind because I thought you were Bill. I never know who to trust anymore. I don’t even trust myself.”“Once again, that’s a perfectly reasonable response. Bill betrayed your trust, so naturally, you started to believe that everyone else might do the same. It’s nothing you need to feel guilty about. And for what it’s worth, Dipper, you can trust me.” Ford hugs Dipper closer to his chest. “I shouldn’t have hidden my history with Bill. I put you all in danger because I was too embarrassed to admit my mistakes. But I am determined to protect you. Even if Mabel can’t get the unicorn hair, we’ll find another way. We can always fix this machine. I’m going to keep you safe, Dipper. I’m going to keep this family safe.”“I know.” Dipper sighs, letting his body slump against Ford’s chest. “I know we can find a way to stop Bill. I just don’t know if I’ll ever get him out of my head.”He presses his face into Ford’s sweater. It’s soft, even more than the ones Mabel knits. Ford is as strong as Stan, bulky and broad-shouldered, but there’s a soft edge to him that’s entirely his own.“I don’t know if I should be telling you this,” Ford admits, his intonation gentle, “but I suppose you already know some of it.” His hand rests between Dipper’s shoulder-blades, steady and grounding. “Thirty years ago, when I was working on the portal, I had an assistant. You probably know him as “F.” His full name was Fiddleford McGucket. As I’m sure you’ve read, during our time in Gravity Falls, Fiddleford and I had a number of run-ins with some of the town’s more dangerous creatures. They seemed to target him in particular, though I was never certain why. Those experiences scarred Fiddleford’s mind. I recall him describing having similar problems to what you’re dealing with now. Like you, he wanted to get those fears out of his mind, so he created this.” Ford taps the memory gun, which lays discarded on the floor next to him. “I confess that I was angry with him, and I shouldn’t have been,” he sighs. “I lacked sympathy. I thought he was being weak, letting fear defeat logic. I didn’t understand him until it was too late. I was so obsessed with Bill and that portal that I couldn’t make room in my mind for anything else.” Ford shakes his head in self-reproach. “Fiddleford resorted to that memory gun because I left him alone to cope with what happened to him. What I mean to say, Dipper, is that I can’t go back and undo my mistakes, but I can do for you what I should have done for my assistant. I can help you recover,” Ford says, a soft smile painting his face. “I’m going to help you recover. I’ll do whatever I have to. We’ll figure it out.”“I’d like that.” Dipper smiles up at him, his face swollen, his eyes red-rimmed and hopeful. “I mean, I’ve already figured some stuff out. Mabel and Wendy and Grunkle Stan helped. But it’s nice, you know, having someone here who actually understands. Not that it’s nice that you got possessed by Bill too, just…well, you get it.”Ford laughs softly. “I do.”They sit in silence for a moment, pressed together, before Dipper speaks up again.“And for what it’s worth, Fiddleford isn’t angry with you,” Dipper says softly. “As a matter of fact, he spoke very highly of you. I think he admired you a lot. I think he still does.”“You—you know him?!” Ford exclaims, his body going rigid with shock. “How—how do you…Dipper, I—I wasn’t even certain he was still alive,” he says breathlessly.“He’s right here in Gravity Falls,” Dipper tells him. “He sorta went crazy after all the memory gun stuff, but we helped him get his memories back, and he’s been helping me with the Bill stuff. He still hasn’t recovered all of his memories, but he’s getting there. He couldn’t remember your name, but he’s been remembering more and more of the time he spent here working with you. And he always talks about you like…like he’s fondly remembering an old friend,” he says sweetly, offering Ford a timid smile.Ford just stares with him, his eyes glassy.“I didn’t think he’d ever forgive me,” Ford confesses, overcome with emotion. “All these years, the guilt has practically been eating me alive. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to apologize. I—Dipper, I don’t know what to say,” he says, letting out an airy laugh and wiping at his eyes.“You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you deserved to know,” Dipper says. “And, when you’re ready, I’m sure he’d love to see you.”“I have to admit that I’m quite nervous,” Ford chuckles. “But it’s been far too long. I…I would like to see him, too.”“I’ll come with you if you’re worried,” Dipper offers, but Ford shakes his head.“I appreciate the thought, Dipper, but I think this is something I had better do alone.”Dipper nods understandingly, not wanting to pry any further. Ford looks lost in thought, his eyes trained intensely on the floor in front of him. It’s clear Ford has a lot to work through in regards to his past with Fiddleford, and maybe it’s best if Dipper leaves it for him to handle in private.“Well, Dipper,” Ford begins, suddenly snapping out of his reverie, “think we should get this cleaned up?” he says, gesturing to the shattered glass and the broken mind-reading device.Dipper feels a pang of disappointment. He should say yes, should gather himself up and prove that he’s stronger than fear. He’s supposed to be the smart one, the mature one. He should make Ford proud of his resilience.But he doesn’t want to.Ford is so, so safe, his arms swallowing Dipper up in a protective little cocoon. A shelter. A sanctuary. Somewhere he can hide, let go, let himself breathe. Maybe he ought to be self-sufficient, but he wants to let himself rely on Ford, to let some of the weight off his chest.It’s a risk, but he takes it.“Actually, Grunkle Ford,” he says quietly, “could we stay here for a little while? Like this?”Ford looks taken aback at first, but his expression shifts into one of realization.“Of course,” Ford says, his tone gentle. “Is—is this helping you?”“Yeah,” Dipper admits. “It—uh, it helps a lot, actually.”He can feel his face heating up from embarrassment, but Ford just holds him closer.“Well, there you have it. We found something that helps you,” Ford says, his voice filled with warmth. “A first step.”   Slowly, slowly, things get easier.Mabel comes through with the unicorn hair, because of course she does. She’s Mabel. (Although Dipper isn’t sure he wants to know why she returns covered in a strange rainbow substance.)Ford enlists Dipper and Mabel in helping him prepare the spell, carefully stationing the materials in their appropriate places around the Shack’s border. He reads an incantation aloud from one of his journals, and the Shack is enveloped in a blaze of blue light and glowing runes.“There,” Ford declares, closing the journal and tucking it back into his trench coat. “With this spell intact, Bill is powerless within the borders of the Shack. He can’t even cross the threshold. Most importantly, he can’t possess anyone within,” he says, looking at Dipper out of the corner of his eye. “Well done, children.”With the immediate threat out of the way, Dipper finds it easier to work towards recovering. At least now he knows that as long as he’s inside the Shack, it’s impossible for Bill to possess him. The challenge is just convincing his mind that he’s safe—which proves to be more difficult than it seems.The nightmares and panic attacks still come, albeit lessening in frequency. Dipper takes to visiting Ford in his lab late at night to avoid sleeping, busying his mind with reading Ford’s other two journals and occasionally assisting him with experiments.“Dipper, I appreciate your interest in my work, but you know it isn’t healthy for you to be keeping these hours,” Ford says to him one night. “There’s no way you’re getting adequate sleep. Right?” Ford raises an eyebrow, gently prompting him.“I know,” Dipper sighs, pointedly keeping his eyes trained on the book in his hands.Ford takes a seat next to him. “There’s a reason for this, isn’t there?”“How long did it take you to be able to sleep again after your deal with Bill?”“Well, considering the fact that time flows differently in every dimension, I’m afraid that isn’t an easy question to answer,” Ford says, a wan smile on his face. “Not to mention the fact that I’ve suffered from insomnia since childhood. But once I found a safe dimension and got that metal plate installed, I remember it getting easier. If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, Dipper, it’s not going to happen immediately. But it will happen.”Dipper sighs and slumps across the table, dejected.“I just wish I knew how,” he whispers.“I know.” Ford settles his hand on top of Dipper’s. “Although we’ve eliminated the threat, it’s going to take a little time for your mind to catch up. But it’s going to be harder if you don’t take proper care of yourself—though I know I’m not exactly setting the best example,” Ford laughs.“Grunkle Ford, I have a question,” Dipper says suddenly.“I’m listening.”“You know all that stuff you have with Bill on it? The statues and paintings and stuff?”Ford shifts uncomfortably. “Of course. As you can see, I was a bit overzealous in my admiration of him during my research days. What about it?”“I was going to ask if you’d be okay with getting rid of it,” Dipper says. “I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just don’t think that seeing his face all the time is doing me any good.”“I think that’s a very wise idea, Dipper. There’s no sense in hanging on to it,” Ford says. “I admit that I only kept it because I thought it would remind me what I’m fighting against. I was using my desire for revenge to motivate me. But maybe it’s time that I focus on what I’m fighting for.” He smiles softly. “We’ll dump it all tomorrow, all right? Maybe we’ll even burn it.”“Thanks, Grunkle Ford. I really appreciate it.”“Like I told you before, Dipper, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to help you through this," Ford says. "But I really think you should get some rest. If you get anxious, you can always come get me. And you have your sister right there.”“Is it bad that I feel guilty about waking her up if I need help?”Ford hums thoughtfully. “Well, has she ever made you feel bad about asking for help?”“No. I just feel bad asking her to make sacrifices for me.”“Then let me put it this way,” Ford says. “Do you think she wants to help you?”“Yeah. She’s Mabel," he laughs. "Helping people is her thing.”“Do you think she would be upset if she knew that you needed help and didn’t ask her for it?”Dipper has to think for a minute. “Probably.”“Then there’s your answer.” Ford smiles and pats his hand.   When Dipper finally makes his way to the attic, it’s nearly 2AM. Mabel is fast asleep, the covers drawn up to her chin. Moonlight spills in from the window and forms the shape of a triangle on the floor.(Dipper tries not to think about the shape.)He does his best to close the door quietly, but she stirs, blinking blearily in his direction.“Dipper? Why are you awake?”He freezes. Normally he’d just make up an excuse about needing a glass of water or something, but Ford’s advice rings in his head.Should he tell her the truth?She deserves to know the truth.“I haven’t been able to sleep,” he whispers.She hums drowsily. “Come over here.”He makes his way to her bedside. “What is it?”She pats the space next to her.“Are you sure?”“M-hm.”“Okay.”He climbs into her bed and settles against the wall, tugging the blankets up over his shoulders. Mabel wraps her arms around him like he’s a giant plushie and nestles her head against his shoulder.“You don’t have to do everything by yourself, you know,” she says.Dipper is breathless. Mabel says a lot of weird things when she’s tired, but nothing could have prepared him for that.“I know,” he says. He leans his head against hers. “I’m trying to be better about that. It’s just hard.”“I get it,” she murmurs. “But it doesn’t have to be.”Dipper stares up at the ceiling, his eyes tracing the pattern of the wooden beams. “I’m just scared that I’m being a burden,” he admits. “I should be over this by now.”Mabel hugs him tighter. “You’re not a burden, Dipper. You’re not. I promise.”“Okay,” he sighs. “I might need you to remind me of that.”“I’ll tell you every day if I have to,” she says. “Now stop thinking so much and go to sleep.”“I’ll try,” he says, his voice strained.“Don’t worry. I gotcha. I’m watching over you,” she mumbles, already slipping back into sleep.“I know,” he whispers. He feels like crying. “I know.”