Fiddleford shut the door silently behind him and slipped off his shoes before padding down the hallway towards his room. Once in the room, he breathed a sigh of relief and set his small bag down, leaving the memory erasing gun inside. Feeling on edge for a multitude of reasons, some of which he couldn't explain, Fiddleford decided to call it a night.

"Do you think you could speed up the process a little, Ford?" The Muse's voice echoed in Ford's head. He was seated at one of the many desks in his private study conversing with his Muse... mentally. Stanford wasn't exactly conscious, nor was he totally oblivious to what was going on around him. His mind was essentially in that place between the conscious and subconscious sectors of his own mind, in the grey space dividing them.

"Yes, Bill." Ford replied emphatically and with a small, eager smile. "I'm thinking it'll be finished sometime in the spring of next year."

"Spring?" Bill raised an eyebrow. Ford nodded wordlessly in response. "Mm." The small triangle didn't look particularly happy about the time frame, but Ford knew that his Muse was extremely patient and willing to help him as much as possible. "Let me show you something." The triangle raised his arms slightly, pulling Ford deep within his own subconscious. The greyscale background turned to a deep, ocean-like blue.  Manipulating Ford's mindscape was a part of the contract between them, and so it was without hesitation that Bill brought up several complex equations that literally floated in front of them, the stark white of the signs and numbers contrasting the surrounding inky blue.

"Alright. I'm seeing a problem here." The Muse gestured slightly to one of the missing numbers. "Solve this." Raising an eyebrow, Ford stepped forward and examined the series of numbers and symbols quizzically before drawing a two with his right forefinger. "There's the mistake." Bill said, startling the man.

"What?"

"That two isn't nearly allowing enough." Bill thought for a moment. "Let me reword that. Placing a two there, although seemingly correct, is wrong. It's far too limiting. The portal has so much power, and these dimensions just don't let it be properly distributed. Do you see what I mean?"

"Yes." Ford nodded. "So what's the solution? Four?" Bill shook his head the best he could. "Five?"

"You're thinking too small." Bill floated closer to the numbers that sat suspended in the air. "Here's the issue. The portal's power source is the hyperdrive. That thing wasn't built by humans, you have no idea how much power it could potentially encapsulate." Ford nodded along with the divine creature's speech. "So you have to be prepared for an unexpected power surge." Bill erased the two and in it's place put an infinity sign. A smile breaking out on his face, Ford turned to shake hands with his idol.

"Thanks, Bill. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out, Ford. Our deal states that we're bound until the end of time."

"Then it's a deal. From now until the end of time!" Stanford had exclaimed happily.

"Just let me into your mind, Stanford!" Bill replied.

"Please... call me a friend." Stanford had smiled and shaken the Muse's hand graciously. Following that, the Muse had been free to move through his dreams and thoughts as he pleased, and in exchange, Ford was allowed to know anything he wanted. The bond between him and his friend was unbreakable. And it would stand until the end of time.

The memory comforted Ford.

"Hello? Ford?" Bill's voice snapped him back to the present.

"Y-yes?" Bill sighed.

"There's something I want to try. I don't have a lot of experience with this, but you have to trust me. Okay?"

"What? What are you gonna do?" Ford's eyes fell on the eye of his Muse.

"Do you trust me?" Bill asked. Ford thought about it. Do I trust him? Bill looked at Ford sympathetically. "You know I'd never do anything to hurt you."

"Yes." Ford said, certainty and finality in his voice.

"Great." Bill closed his eye. "You might want to relax, it'll make this a lot easier."

"What?" And then Ford was shoved out of his own body.

Fiddleford snapped out of his sleep-like stupor. A series of odd noises had jerked him to consciousness, and blinking rapidly, he got to his feet.

"Uh.. Ford?" He called, trying to identify where exactly his business partner was. He was answered by a small thud in Ford's favoured study room. "Are you alright?" McGucket asked, walking quickly into the slightly darkened room.

"Yes! I'm f.. fine." Stanford answered hurriedly, then took a step towards his assistant. "But I'm very busy at the moment with.. personal matters. So if you'll please excuse me, I have to get back to work."

"Woah, woah." McGucket was quite intrigued, and not in a positive way, about Stanford's sudden, unprecedented change in behaviour, and he put his hand up to stop Ford from politely, but firmly, closing the door on him. "What was that noise?"

"Hmm?" Ford raised an eyebrow. "Oh! I just tripped. I've never.. my legs fell asleep at my desk." He said, never taking his uncharacteristically sharp gaze away from his assistant. Unconvinced, McGucket tilted his head accusingly.

"Okay, fine. I'll leave you alone." Fiddleford turned to leave, but stopped abruptly. "Are you planning on pulling another all-nighter?"

"It's been a few nights since my last one." Ford said coolly.

"That's a really bad habit, you know." Fiddleford cautioned his friend. "Lack of sleep has some quite debilitating side affects."

"You think I don't know that?"

"I'm just warning you." Fiddleford said rather snappily. He softened his tone. "You're going to crash. Figuratively and literally." He paused for a moment, remembering a metaphor that would be guaranteed to get through to Stanford. "Remember what happened to Icarus?"

"That fool flew too close to the sun." Stanford snorted.

"Right." Fiddleford sighed. Stanford was missing the point. "Goodnight." He finally said. Stanford mumbled something that sounded like an echo of McGucket's parting words to him before shutting the door.

That was weird. Fiddleford thought to himself before retreating to his own room. Seeing the memory gun sticking out slightly from his bag which still lay on the ground, he stared at it for a long while.

"I don't need it." He told himself before climbing back on to his cot.

It wasn't necessarily terror that Ford felt upon being shoved out of his body. A deep sense of foreboding would more accurately describe how it felt. He floated aimlessly in a space that he couldn't describe exactly, like a hazy scene from a long-forgotten dream.

"Bill?!" He called, whirling around to search for any sign of his Muse. Suddenly the voice of Bill filled his head.

Stanford, calm down! It's alright! A triumphant laugh followed the statement. It worked!

"What did?" Ford asked eagerly. His Muse sounded quite optimistic, so it had to be good news.

I.. I took over your consciousness! I'm controlling your physical body right now!

"Are you serious?!" Stanford yelped. "You're in my body?!"

Yeah! Bill laughed. But hey, hear me out. He said, cutting off Ford before he could plead for his body back. You realize that sleep is a waste of time, don't you? It slows down the production of the portal by as much as 33%. And yet you desperately need it in order to properly function.

"Yeah.." Ford admitted, his interest sparked.

So just think about this- what if I could overtake your conscious mind whenever you start to drift off? I could finish up the work while you rested your mind! You'd never need to sleep again! At least, not all of you. A part of you will always be doing something productive.

"I-" Ford stopped. The idea sounded too good to be true. "Would you do that?"

Of course! Honestly, it's quite refreshing for me to experience some real sensations. Feel what it's like to be human.

"Bill, you are such a gentleman." Ford gushed. His Muse was, quite literally, the answer to his every problem. "Alright. I agree. You have full permission to take over my consciousness whenever you please."

Excellent. I knew you'd see the practicality in this, Ford. You always have been a very logical person. Ford couldn't help but grin at the praise as he allowed his mind to become calm and slowly lost awareness.

Several hours later, the sun was rising. Ford was still up and moving, although his movements were slightly sluggish. His mind was sharper than ever, though, and there was so much he'd accomplished during the night. It was nearly six a.m. when Bill allowed his consciousness to slip out of Ford's head, and the latter was able to reclaim himself. Stifling a yawn, Stanford realized that it had been ages since he'd felt so rested. Mentally, at least. He couldn't say the same for his body. Hearing Fiddleford's alarm clock go off, Stanford rushed into his kitchen and threw together a few sandwiches for breakfast. Moments later, Fiddleford emerged from the hallway, blinking tiredly.

"Good morning." Ford greeted his friend happily.

"Morning." Fiddleford replied. A few moments passed in silence before Fiddleford finally broke it. "Ford, something has occurred to me. There's a bit of an issue with the portal. Or more specifically, what the portal may be able to do."

"What?"

"If the portal is successful in connecting our world to the "Weirdness Dimension", as you call it, there are some dangerous possibilities. Some of the more sinister creatures on the other side may try to come over to our world. If they were to succeed, what would we do?" The idea of something from the weirdness dimension trying to enter his world was both exciting and appalling to Stanford, and he honestly didn't know how to respond. But Fiddleford had an answer of his own already formulated.

"I propose we build a safe space, a bunker of sorts. It could function as a second laboratory where we could capture and study the most dangerous creatures and specimens. Two benefits I can see to this are that, firstly, the bunker could be out in the forest, away from the townsfolk. Then they wouldn't be in any danger. Secondly, if there were to ever be a fallout of any kind, we could retreat into the lab. It'd be our best bet if anything were to go wrong." Fiddleford shrugged.

"A fallout?" Stanford raised an eyebrow. "I think you're too paranoid."

"The portal is powered by nuclear energy." Fiddleford reminded Stanford pointedly. "It could happen."

"Fair enough." Stanford mulled it over in his head. "I think you're right." He nodded, then sighed heavily. "But that means we'll have to take a break from the portal. Again."

Fiddleford stayed silent as Stanford continued to argue the pros and cons of the bunker internally. Finally he came up with a verdict. With a disappointed look on his face, he disclosed his thoughts.

"This bunker is essential. I feel it's benefits will greatly outweigh its downfalls." Ford looked up from his half-eaten sandwich. "We'll build a bunker in the woods like you suggested." Fiddleford let his breath out in relief. "We will be very behind, though. It'll take us ages to build a bunker in the woods."

No, it won't. Fiddleford thought. Because it won't be just us.

Heyo! How's it going, guys? As promised, here's an update for this weekend. Just a heads up, this may be the last I'm on Wattpad for a while. And by a while, I mean maybe not until next weekend. Then I'll be back, with some brand new content for you guys. Thanks for being so patient with these updates. I hope you guys enjoyed this! Later.

~Grey