Mabel doubted she'd get much sleep, what with gravity changing so much. And she didn't.

Every time an anomaly went off, her body thought it was falling to its death. It was like hypnic jerking, where Mabel's body would hallucinate that it was falling and wake her up. Except this time, it wasn't a hallucination. She really was falling as gravity changed directions.

Luckily, she was strapped to the bed, so she didn't actually fall. But she'd still wake up. And waking up feeling like you were dangling from the ceiling was terrifying. Mabel's sheets bunched as she clutched at them, wondering if or when her straps would break and send her falling across the room.

Dipper wasn't strapped down. Mabel thought he was crazy. Plus, it wasn't exactly fair to her — what if he fell sideways in the middle of the night and ran into her? But he seemed to love the anomalies, and he had far more energy than anyone should be allowed to have, especially at this time of night. "It's only, like, seven, Mabes," he'd remind her when she mentioned it. "I can't sleep now! I probably won't be able to all night."

"You'd better be silent," she threatened, "because I'm actually trying to sleep. We have to be alert tomorrow!"

He tried to be quiet, thankfully, and her exhaustion finally overcame what sound he did make. The fear she'd felt when they'd sent Dipper and Ford off to the UFO, the terror of the Order attack, the panic she felt every time gravity changed — it all combined into a mass of fatigue, pulling her under consciousness into sleep. A very interrupted sleep, but sleep nonetheless.

It was the middle of the night when she'd finally been asleep long enough to dream.

She was down in the Order headquarters, being forced to clean a room full of pipes and other equipment by Pacifica, who shrieked at her that she was doing it wrong. Every time Mabel would clean off a little bit of rust, it would reappear, completely nullifying her progress. She just kept scrubbing at the metal. . . .

"How tedious."

Mabel turned as Bill Cipher appeared in the center of three pipes that formed a triangular shape. Her heart raced. "G-go away."

"Your dreams have gotten rather boring lately," he commented, ignoring her words.

The statement pulled Mabel into lucidity. "My dreams aren't for your entertainment!" she snapped.

Bill floated closer to her. "Oh, but they've been so very amusing ever since I possessed you."

The dream version of Pacifica stalked over to scream at Mabel, but she just waved a hand to make her disappear. If only she was always lucid in her dreams and could do things like that in all her nightmares!

"Is that why you're here?" Mabel demanded of Bill once Pacifica was gone. "To complain about the entertainment value of my dreams?"

"No," Bill said. "I thought I'd come tell you about the fear and panic you're causing."

It didn't take her long to realize what he was talking about. "Robbie warned everybody."

Bill gave a short laugh. "You think anybody listened to him? Everyone thought he was crazy! Until the first anomaly. That made them believe him."

"So now they know. Everyone's safe."

"You don't truly believe that," Bill said. "You're scared of the anomalies. And you've been mentally preparing for days. How do you think everybody else feels, huh?"

A surge of guilt forced its way through Mabel's body. "We h-have to save Stan."

"Do you? You don't know him. Sixer doesn't even know him, not after thirty years."

A wave of anger replaced the guilt. "Yes, we do have to!" she shouted. "Ford deserves to see his brother again — and the fact that you want to stop it so bad is further proof that we're doing the right thing!"

Bill just stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. "You're so naïve, Pine Tree. Do you really think the world is that black-and-white? That clear-cut?"

"You're that clear-cut," Mabel shot back.

"But you're not," Bill said. "Not if you're willing to hurt people to open the portal."

Mabel suddenly felt uncomfortably warm. He was right. She was doing bad things. For good reasons, but. . .

"Not a good realization, hmm?" Bill asked. "You're just as bad as you think the Order is. They're just doing what they think is the right thing, too."

"Th-that's why we haven't hurt them." Mabel barely forced the words out through her shame. "The d-difference is that they're wr-wrong."

"You don't sound so sure," Bill replied. "How can you know? You think they're wrong, but what if you're wrong? What if they're right?"

He spoke aloud the fear that had been building in her for days. Her voice was thick as she said, "G-get out, Bill."

"Everyone's terrified, Pine Tree. And you're responsible. Even if you do rescue Stanley, is that enough to wipe the stain of your guilt?"

Don't listen, Mabel, she told herself. He's just trying to bait you. He's just scared himself!

But his words bored through her defenses and filled her with shame. Was this really worth it? Causing all this pain on the chance that they might save Stan?

"Here comes another anomaly," Bill said. "Have fun waking up in a panic. And when you do, remember how many people are feeling that same fear. Because of you."

Then a slash gee started pulling Mabel's body sideways to the nearest wall, and she awoke with a startled yell.

"Watch out, Mabes!"

She'd been kept in place by her straps, but she turned her head to see Dipper falling across the room.

Right on top of her.

He was falling slowly — the slash gee wasn't too strong — but in the darkness it still looked and felt like he was coming from above her on a terrifying crash collision course. In his arms, Waddles squealed in terror, and the sound destroyed any hope Mabel had at being calm. Rationality fled her, and she curled up in a ball, held up only by the strap surrounding her. The bed was a wall, now, and the wall was the ground, and she was suspended just inches above it.

Dipper ran into her.

It didn't hurt, but she still cried out. Her arms found Dipper and clung to him, shoving Waddles out of the way. Her twin's weight settled onto her, and the strap, which kept them off the new floor, began to dig into Mabel's side. Had the slash gee been pulling at normal gravitational strength, Mabel was convinced the strap would break.

Dipper moved around Mabel so that he settled himself and his pig on the wall rather than putting all his weight on his twin. He didn't let go of her completely, though — for the which she was grateful.

The anomaly ended, and gravity reverted to normal in a dizzying rotation. Dipper landed on the bed between Mabel and the wall, and they just lay there for a minute, clinging to each other and shaking. At least, Mabel was shaking.

"It's okay, Mabes," Dipper whispered. "This whole thing is about halfway over. We've made it this far. We can make it the rest of the way."

She shook her head, though she wasn't sure with what she was disagreeing. "We're causing so much pain, Dip."

"Robbie spread the word. People should be keeping themselves safe."

"I meant emotionally." The words slipped from her mouth, barely audible. Now that the terror of the anomaly was over, her dream came to the forefront of her mind. "E-even if everybody comes out of this okay, they're — they're so scared. . . ."

Dipper held her close. "Did Bill visit you too?" he asked.

Mabel paused. So Bill had talked to Dipper tonight as well? "Y-yeah," she answered.

"And he tried to guilt you about all this?"

Mabel pulled away a bit. "I am guilty! We all are!"

"He's trying to make us doubt ourselves," said Dipper, "and we can't listen. We have to see this all the way through." He rested his forehead on hers. "We're so close."

Another anomaly began, and gravity disappeared. Dipper hugged Mabel tightly — but gently, carefully — before picking up Waddles and pushing himself off the bed to float back over to his side of the room. "Go back to sleep, Mabes," he said. "It's going to be okay."

Mabel didn't believe him.

She floated there in zero gee, trying to clear her mind of the guilt that pulled at her thoughts. The loss of gravity helped — no gravity at all was much better than mutated gravity. It allowed Mabel to close her eyes and imagine that she was out in space, surrounded by twinkling stars. She still felt like she was falling, but now she was falling in all directions, and she could orient herself normally, with the ceiling up and the floor down.

It still caused her an instinctive panic, though, and that panic just reminded her of what Bill had said. That everybody was freaking out, all over town. Every time gravity lessened or disappeared or changed directions, it sent the entire town into a frenzy and made it impossible to sleep through the night.

And it was Mabel's fault.

Tears squeezed from her eyes, but without gravity, they stayed clinging to her corneas, making her eyeballs itch. She blinked them away.

How was she going to get any sleep tonight? How was anyone going to sleep? How could she ever be forgiven for this? Bill was right. Nothing would exonerate her from the hurt her family was causing. Maybe the Order was right to try to stop them.

Mabel's mind stayed stuck on that never-ending loop of shame. Gravity reappeared and disappeared again, over and over, as she condemned herself for the community-wide fear brought on by the anomalies. She had no idea how long she lay there — she may have fallen asleep, she didn't know — before she felt trapped by her restraints and, strangely, hot in her blankets. The night was cold, especially with the heating off, but Mabel suddenly felt too warm to stay in bed a moment longer. She tugged at her restraints, trying to get them off, but it was hard from this angle. Not impossible, thankfully, but harder than her frazzled mind could take.

Finally, she was free. She got to her feet, breathing heavily, and left the room before she even realized how cold she was. It wasn't until halfway down the stairs that the freezing winter temperatures seeped through her skin. Mabel shivered.

She didn't know where she was going. She wasn't thinking. She hardly even noticed Melody, who was flopped over on the couch, breathing deeply in an exhausted sleep. No, Mabel just kept moving, hardly aware of anything, until she found herself outside of Ford's room.

She reached for the knob. She wasn't sure what she was thinking, except that, somehow, Ford could help her. Ford could make it better. Ford had dealt with Bill before, and he could tell his niece that it was okay, that they weren't evil, that Bill was wrong.

Right?

The door creaked slightly as it opened. The sound of Ford's light snoring filled the room, and Mabel felt another surge of guilt. Was she really going to wake up her uncle, who clearly needed his sleep after his expedition to Crash Site Omega, just so he could comfort her? What kind of selfish move was that?

She stood there for a long time, shivering in the cold, agonizing over what to do. Eventually, though, a gravitational anomaly made the decision for her: The floor became a slope, descending down from the door. Mabel didn't move except to dig her heels in, but she felt her weight shift as gravity changed, and she heard Ford jerk against his bed in the darkness. The snoring stopped.

He was awake.

At least, Mabel really hoped so. "Grunkle Ford?" she whispered.

He jerked again, his body rustling the covers and thumping against the mattress. "Who's there?"

"I-it's me. M-Mabel."

Silence. Ford breathed in through his nose, as if he were trying to focus his thoughts, then spoke on the exhale. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"I. . ." She hesitated. "Can I. . . can I st-stay with you?"

A longer silence. "What happened, Mabel?"

Well, he didn't say yes, but he certainly didn't say no, either. Mabel crossed the room to his bed, careful in the diagonal gravity, and climbed up next to him. As gravity reverted to normal, she curled up by Ford's side, not answering his question. She wasn't sure she could answer his question, at least not without sobbing all over him. She was tired, she was panicked, and she was weighed down by her guilt.

But then Ford's hand touched her back, rubbed her shoulders, and she found herself spilling everything.

"Bill visited me," she said. As she suspected, tears choked her almost immediately, making it hard to speak. "He said. . . he told me what was happening in the town. How scared everybody is. W-we did this, Grunkle Ford. We turned on the portal, we made gravity go crazy, we. . . If anybody gets hurt tonight, it's our fault."

Ford was quiet for a long moment. "Yes," he said.

The word washed over Mabel, and her breath hitched. He didn't do anything — all he did was agree with her fears. But that simple affirmation, the knowledge that it wasn't just her who knew this, made everything seem a little better.

But. . . "You knew?" she asked. "You knew what would happen tonight?"

"I knew what happened last time," Ford replied. "I knew people would panic, yes."

"A-and you still did it?"

Ford breathed in sharply. "Of course I did," he said. "It's to save Stanley."

"I know, but — but don't you feel guilty?"

Another pause. "Yes, I do," Ford said, his already-quiet voice now a breath in the darkness. "But I can't let it stop me, especially not now that it's almost over. I made a decision, knowing what it would cause. And I'll deal with the consequences."

Mabel fell quiet, thinking this over. She was glad he was taking responsibility, but. . . it wasn't fair to rope Melody or Dipper or her into that responsibility.

Almost as if he knew what she was thinking, Ford continued, "Key word I'll. This is my responsibility. Not yours. You don't need to feel guilty over this."

Mabel curled up tighter against him. "But I let it happen. I helped. It's just as much my fault as it is yours."

Ford didn't respond for a long moment. Then his hand squeezed her shoulder. "You must be freezing," he said.

Mabel didn't know what that had to do with anything, but he wasn't wrong. She nodded, her head rubbing against his chest.

"Do you want to get under the covers?"

Oh, she did. She wanted to be warm, she wanted to be safe, she wanted to pass the night in Ford's arms —

"Is there room for me?" she asked.

"Should be. See if you can undo my restraints. I think they can fit two."

She found the end of the strap and undid it, finding the task much easier from this angle. Then, at Ford's direction, she climbed under the covers on the opposite side, getting situated as he redid the restraints. She didn't have a pillow, so she lay her head on Ford's chest, just above the strap. It wasn't nearly as tight as it had been upstairs, since Ford was larger than she, but for the moment she didn't care.

Ford put his arm around her, holding her close. "You're not responsible for my actions, Mabel," he said softly. "But I am thankful for your help."

Another pang of guilt hit Mabel, but this time it wasn't as forceful. This time, she had her great uncle to protect her.

"Now, try to sleep, okay?"

What seemed impossible earlier now felt easy and natural. Now, Mabel had thick blankets and Ford's body heat to keep her warm. Now, she could put her thoughts to rest and fall asleep.

So she did.