Ah, summer break. A time for leisure, recreation, and takin' 'er easy.

Unless you're in multiple fandoms.

So, since it's summer, I plan on updating this once every two-three weeks, and if you think about it, since sometimes I update months at a time, this is a pretty good deal, so I'll do my best to not procrastinate on this. (But who am I kidding, I probably will.)

You guys are great. Thank you for all your feedback and support and all your awesome ideas for when I was stuck in my little writer's jam. Oh, I think I forgot to mention in the last chapter, but fanart is totally allowed and definitely appreciated. :3

And if you feel like cracking a code, feel free you Fallers, because there's one hidden in this chapter.
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A pair of bleary, tired eyes blinked across the quiet, dimly lit room. Mabel yawned, blinking again as she sat up and stretched, glancing drowsily to the triangular window; it casting a pale, bright morning light in, promising a sunny day. She shifted her gaze over to her brother's bed, seeing the mound of blankets rising and falling steadily; Dipper sound asleep, bundled underneath. 

Mabel swung her legs over the side of her bed, slipping her feet into her cozy, neon pink slippers. She padded over to the door, heading to the bathroom, when she paused as Dipper turned in his sleep. Mabel peered over her shoulder, staying silent so she wouldn't wake him, squinting as something seemed to catch her eye.

She turned around, taking slow steps, wary of creaky floorboards, stepping cautiously around them as she made her way over to Dipper's bed, kneeling down beside it.

When Dipper had rolled over a moment before, his arm had fallen over the edge of the bed, his mouth agape on the pillow, drooling slightly, his eyes peacefully closed.

Mabel covered her mouth quickly to keep from letting out a sharp gasp as she held his forearm gently in her palm, knowing he was a heavy sleeper; he wouldn't be bothered by something like this. She carefully flipped his arm over, peering at the inside of his wrist.

No... She thought quickly to herself, her eyes wide. It-it couldn't be...

Mabel tucked Dipper's arm up to himself, his fingers instantly grasping onto the blanket as he cuddled into them deeper, letting out a content murmur as his twin slipped quickly and quietly out of the attic, shutting the door silently behind her.

******

Ford marched up the dank staircase, his fingers gliding over the handrail on the wall, a grim, cold expression on his face.

He'd been conducting lots of research since he'd found the ominous note in the attic, causing him to be absent at numerous Pines meals, delved too deep in his findings to be pulled away so soon.

Ford clicked a button on his watch as he stood before the entrance, the vending machine door opening widely to reveal a startled-looking Mabel who had frozen right before she typed in the code. She stepped away as it opened, peering anxiously inside, having desperately wanting to speak with her Grunkle, ignoring her messy bed hair and mismatched pajamas.

"Mabel?" Stanford asked in a confused tone the same time Mabel exclaimed, "Grunkle Ford!" in relief.

"What is it?" Ford asked with a smile, putting a hand on his niece's shoulder, guiding her to the kitchen table, sitting her down and pulling a chair close to seat himself as well.

Mabel looked at him worriedly, knowing perfectly well that of anyone, Ford would be her best bet to get help for her twin, as he'd dealt with things just like this before.

Probably.

"It's, um," she stammered, wringing her hands together as she stared intently at the table. "It's Dipper, actually..." She pulled her gaze up to look at her great uncle. "I need your help."

*******

Soft footfalls announced the arrival of a still-half asleep Dipper Pines as he padded down the stairs, entering the kitchen. He paused in the doorway, glancing at the table precariously, where his uncles and Mabel sat, deep in what looked like a serious conversation.

This was slightly nerving.

Not only the part where all of them looked incredibly jumpy and were talking in low whispers, but maybe the fact that Mabel was actually being serious for once with her great uncles, looking anxious and fearful.

Ford had some sort of gizmo sitting before him and as Mabel spoke, he typed ferociously onto the keyboard. His little device resembled a miniature laptop and a small light on the corner of it blinked every so often.

Stan had turned his head as he heard Dipper come down the stairs, so as soon as the brunette entered the kitchen, everyone fell silent and looked up at him.

A small grin peaked onto Dipper's face as he gazed around at them, unable to catch, apparently, the present desperate and anxious aura. "Morning, guys," he said in a cheerful, tired voice as he let out a kitten yawn. "What are you doing up so early?"

Ford had stood up as the boy was speaking and grabbed his laptop thingamajig, closing it and holding it at his side, giving a grim smile in response; one that immensely lacked on the whole happiness factor. "It isn't early, my boy." He peered down at his watch, avoiding Dipper's other question. "It's actually 11:30."

Dipper gaped blankly at him. Must've lost track of time, he thought to himself. Why'd I stay up so late last night?

You couldn't help it, a nagging voice told him in the back of his head. Someone forced you to stay up. I'm sure you can guess who.

But I don't remember any of that, Dipper snapped back to the annoying voice. I didn't have any dreams with him in it, either.

Whatever lets you sleep at night, the voice chided back in mock cheerfulness. Oh, wait...

Shut up, Dipper demanded, his hands balling into fists as his sides.

What on Earth was he doing? Having a mental argument with himself? In his mind? Was he going mad?

Probably, the voice sang back to him.

Dipper clenched his jaw, ignoring it again.

Only a minute had passed during all of this and Dipper was pulled back into reality, rocking up on the balls of his feet, unclenching his fingers and pocketing his hands in his shorts pockets. "So, what are you doing?"

"Oh, um..." Stan spoke in his gruff voice, rubbing the back of his neck, searching for the right word. "...research..."

"On what?"

"Er," Stan responded again, his tone uncertain as he thought.

"The capabilities and incapabilities of three sided figures," Ford cut in. Mabel gave him a reassuring nod and a grin, a certain desperation masked in her eyes.

Dipper shrugged. "Whatever makes you happy." He turned, a nonchalant expression on his face as he headed to the living room, whistling.

"We're running out of options," Stan hissed as soon as the young brunette had left. "If Bill really has taken control of Dipper, popping in and out of him whenever he pleases, making Dipper his puppet slave for eternity or whatever, then we have to choose what'll help Dipper. How we can try to save him before it's too late." Ford nodded in agreement, looking down at Mabel, awaiting her verdict.

Mabel returned the look back at her Grunkles, a saddened expression on her face as her eyes watered, taking a shaky, deep breath. "How long until we know it'll work for sure?" She pleaded anxiously in a small voice.

"About 3 hours after the hit," Stanford replied gravely, the three of them around the table gazing now at what the old genius had then pulled from his pocket and set in the middle of the table.

The memory gun.