[A/N: I moved this to the top because I'm not sure if people are reading this chapter, hence not reading my note, so here. It moved.

Hello, my ever-so patient readers. My apologies on this one, no clue how to wrap it up... I'm just here to fill you guys in on the current state of things in the world of my writing. It seems I wasn't too good of a working author if I left you guys to sit for nearly two years on some books, but I'm sure the majority of you understand. Well here's this, I intend on either continuing or finishing off any of the stories I left hanging, and I intend on writing all the story ideas I have that I deem good enough to publish. There is one story I very much intend on beginning, which is a mostly Mabifica story about Pacifica learning she's losing her hearing and meeting Mabel, a sign language interpreter and sister of the profoundly Deaf Dipper. There is BillDip, and there is Disney World. And Mabifica, and Deaf culture. Four very good things.

Aside from that, I recently find myself comparing my version of Bill Cipher to Tyler Durden, and my version of Dipper to his counterpart... Maybe that's something I'll look into writing.

But that being said, I've recently grown found of Overwatch and the ships that come with that. I want to write about that, very soon. I'm just not sure how many of my readers know and/or care about Overwatch. So my question is, would you guys read Overwatch stories I write?

Feel free to answer that honestly. As much as I write for my own enjoyment, I wouldn't want to post things to here that none of you intend on reading. So with that, I just want to say thank you for the support you've given and I'm sorry for the hiatus. Now go along reading. Until next time, readers.]

The court room drained of people with Pacifica leading the exit-line in a tight rush. She was baffled, probably angry, probably embarrassed, all for good reason. The case had been settled as a misunderstanding and Dipper's attacker was declared innocent and set free. Dipper and Mabel were the last two in the room. They made eye contact for a moment, where Dipper stood up in his place at the table and she remained perched in a pew silently. She somehow translated whatever verbal form of three question marks in a row would sound like without making a noise. 

He hurried out, he didn't want to converse with his twin. He'd have to explain why he did this, he'd have to explain the fact that he thought Pacifica was his soulmate to Pacifica's actual soulmate. No thank you. 

Upon hitting the ebony hall, where he found a pacing and stressed Pacifica Northwest and realized facing her would be even worse. It would be embarrassing on all levels and he would probably cry. He'll have to stutter out apologies later. He continued through the crowds of confused witnesses to the court proceedings, pushing through reporters as they attempted to grasp an understanding of the last hour's conclusion. He didn't know where he was going, nor did he really care. All he wanted now was to leave, immediately. And then a hand grabbed his wrist.

He was pulled rapidly to the side causing him to lose his balance and stumble. The person with a tight grasp on his arm didn't hesitate at that. They continued going without Dipper even asking what was happening or why. He couldn't even see who had him by the wrist. Before long, Dipper was through the front door and standing out on the sidewalk outside of the courthouse and pulled into the shade of another building, with a blonde man panting from the mad dash. Dipper pieced together that this was his attacker, his apparent soulmate, assuming Dipper's clock wasn't just broken. Somehow there was barely any fear in Dipper's gut as he stared the blue-eyed robber in the eyes. There was no anxiety in him. This was nothing like Pacifica, who's blonde hair seemed as far as heaven's gate and who's blue eyes felt coldly apathetic to his emotions. 

"What the hell?" The blonde shouted, sounding half-angry and half-excited as all earth. He seemed torn between furious confusion and appreciative infatuation. His hand was still clung to Dipper's right wrist tightly, slowly forming red indentations on the other's pale skin.

Dipper pulled his arm back, instinctually nursing the pressured area with his own hand. "That's not the 'Thank you' I had anticipated... But you're welcome." Dipper quipped. The response seemed to slightly quell the ecstatic nature of the other man. 

"Right, I'm sorry." Dipper was awestruck. An apology for something so meaningless, from the man who literally held a gun to his head as a greeting. The blonde outstretched his hand. Dipper took it and shook hesitantly. "Thank you, so much. Uh, I'm Bill. By the way. If you didn't catch that during the trial."

"I'm going to be honest, I didn't. I wasn't really listening through a considerable amount of the beginning. At least before the whole telling-the-court-you're-innocent thing." Dipper's eyes trailed to the ground and he began replaying the scene in his mind and soon his own psyche mirrored Pacifica's in reaction to what he had done. It all seemed surreal, from the moment the two had met in that convenience store with a gun pushed to Dipper's skull and a timer striking zero, nothing felt real. Maybe it was the fact that following that night he didn't sleep for four days. The sleep on the fourth day was result of losing consciousness, his body's way of telling him to stop thinking and just exist.

"Yeah, about that..." Bill's voice sounded shaky. Dipper gulped and his eyes flicked into the blue ones of his counterpart, which now lay awkwardly looking in a similar fashion Dipper's had a moment earlier. "Why?" And their eyes locked again. 

"You first. Why did you rob me?" Dipper snapped. He didn't want to answer yet. Bill was caught off-guard. He hesitated for a moment before spitting out his confession.

"I was desperate. I needed money to pay back a loan and honestly I was hoping no one would even be in the store. I didn't even really want the money, which is why I went to some crappy store. It was stupid, I hadn't slept in days, it was some fever-thought that I shouldn't have gone through with." Dipper was shocked, struck by the honesty. He expected some arrogant response, something along the lines of 'Why not?', but no. Bill's tone expressed genuine regret. "I'm really sorry."

"..Oh."

"Now you. why?" Bill quipped.

Why? He hadn't given himself a chance to truly think about that. Why? There stood a silence for a moment. The three-letter word drilled miles through his brain. Why? It took about three more minutes for words to spew from Dipper's lips. They came out in a pile of word-vomit. "Have you checked your Clock?" Dipper muttered fast. Bill barely caught the words as they sprung from his throat, but he did catch them nonetheless, and stood dumbfounded by the question.

"What does that have to do with this?" Bill sounded defensive. The sun moved so that the shadow over the two of them only stayed on Dipper. Bill was revealed into the sunlight and Dipper realized how beautiful the blue eyes were in the rays. He had to swipe that thought from his mind. Dipper's mouth opened empty for a moment, then more words spilled.

"It has everything to do with this." He pulled up his sleeve, the suit's fabric stuck tense as it slid up his left forearm. The faint green glow of the now-eternal mono-numerical countdown lay etched into his skin. "It's at zero."

Bill looked at him like he was losing his mind. Hell, maybe he was. "So?"

"So? It hit zero when you-" The words caught in his throat and hesitated before coming out, a bit quieter than all else he had said. "When you, you know, put a gun to my head!" The sentence ended with shouting. A few strangers turned their heads to look at the source of the yelling, then continued on their way. Dipper had to compose himself, barely realizing he had dug his nails into his arm deep enough for him to be bleeding. The sudden flash of anger ceased as he exhaled. Embarrassment flushed over him as he realized the way his mood seemed to be flowing recklessly. In the face of Bill, he realized, he had many emotions, all of which pined their way to get in his mind and mouth all at once, like a swarm of angered wasps stuck in a hive with only one exit. 

Then suddenly Dipper stopped breathing, he stopped thinking, his train of thought derailed. Why hasn't he said anything about his clock? Oh my god,don't make this a repeat of Pacifica... "Didn't your's do the same?" Dipper's eyebrows hitched, his eyes pleaded. Bill turned blank-faced. He just pulled up his sleeve and pushed his left arm towards Dipper.

A scar, a long, winding, ugly scar covered the surface of his forearm. It started at the wrist, near the center where people can usually see a vein, and crawled all the way up to the inner-elbow, where it seemed to snake off towards the inner side of his bicep, but his sleeve cut Dipper's sight of it off. There was no Clock, there couldn't be, with a such defacement of his limb. There was a slight warped line of green that twisted around one of the branches of the scar but it was just that - a warped line. 

Dipper cursed under his breath then bit his lower lip tightly to keep from doing so again. He had a lot of questions, like why he has a scar, if it was at zero before he had the scar, if Dipper was just insane or had a broken clock, or if any of this is grounded in reality. "But, it has to be you, right? You were the only one around me when the time ran out..."

"What about the girl who hit me in the head with the frying pan?" Bill muttered, a hand subconsciously moving to rub at the bump on the back of his head.

"No, no. I thought that too. Turn's out she's my sister's soulmate..." Dipper's voice trailed off, and Bill chuckled quietly. Dipper glared.

"Sorry, shouldn't be laughing."Dipper couldn't help but mentally join in on the laughter. The situation was ridiculous.

"Anyway, I'm praying that I'm not making the same mistake with you. Do you have any idea what your clock was at when you saw it last?"

Bill shook his head. "No clue." He looked innocently ignorant about his clock in general. That's weird, Dipper thought to himself, I'm seeing innocent in my robber. And then he remembered his clock, the reason this conversation was even happening. The man in front of him is most likely his soulmate.

"Can we just safely assume that it's you this was counting down for?" Dipper pointed frantically at his own Clock. "Can we just do that much?"

"Wait, so you kept me from jail because I'm you're soulmate?" Bill asked, unrelated, not listening.

"...Yes I thought I made that clear?"

"You're willing to ignore the fact that I robbed you? Because some clock said you're supposed to get with me?" Bill seemed less than impressed by the notion. Dipper felt some offense, mixed with confusion. He's never heard anyone question the clocks.

"These things aren't really ever wrong." Dipper noted. Bill slowly nodded.

"Fine, just keep in mind, if we become a thing, this is going to be pretty awkward at first..."

Dipper didn't think about that. Really, he didn't think about any of this. He just sort of hoped it would go more along the lines of 'We're soulmates! I love you!' but then again, Dipper had a very bad grasp on how love is supposed to work.

"Like... imagine: 'How did you two meet? Oh, I pulled a gun on him and tried to rob him!' Yeah... this is going to be a bit weird." Bill chimed. Dipper nodded and shrugged. 

"Not as awkward as it's going to be when I have to explain this whole situation to Pacifica and Mabel, the lawyer who hit you with a pan and my sister who's dating her." Bill laughed wholeheartedly and smiled brightly. 

"True. I'm assuming she'll be just ecstatic!" Bill pursed sarcastically.

The situation began to turn to more of a small-talk set-up, where the two boys actually began to open up instead of argue. Dipper decided he could start that. "So what's with the scar?"