"Y/N! Thank God, you're alive!" Mabel pulled you into a bear hug, regardless to the fact you were rather immobile in a cot.

After she stood back up, you winced at the bright afternoon light creeping from the window. "Alive, barely. How long have I been out?"

The hyper brunette stilled and glanced at the ground awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. "Uh, three days."

"What?!" You bolted upright into a sitting position, heart pounding against your chest. "How much did I miss?!"

Mabel stuck her tongue out to the side as she counted off with her fingers. "Gideon, this wacko physic, took over the shack and tried to kill us, he got arrested, we hosted a party, Dipper raised the dead and killed two government guys, we found this spooky bunker in the woods and found an imposter author for the journals, which ended up in Dipper spilling his crush for Wendy." She blinked innocently, shrugging. "I think that covers it all."

You fell back into the miniature pillow mountain and lingered a groan, hand falling on your forehead. "No kidding."

"Never mind that, how's your arm doing?"

You carefully lifted it up from under the sheets to find it wrapped in medical gauze. It shot a rebellious bullet of pain up your bone, but at least you could feel something out of it. "Let's go with its improving," you said as you took in your surroundings. "But where am I?"

Mabel's eyebrows quirked. "Oh, right! You're at Dipper's and my place, the Mystery Shack. I couldn't just leave you hanging after you took a hit back there."

She began twisting a lock of hair around her finger. "My brother, on the other hand..." Her voice trailed off as she stared at the significantly messier bed, sheets undone and littered with broken pens and crumpled paper. "He wasn't too keen on letting you stay."

"Gotcha."

As the silence interval passed, you took notice of Mabel biting on her lip anxiously, her coffee colored eyes flicking from side to side.

"Hey, what's on your mind? You're more jittery than usual," you commented, only for her to snap her head back up, obviously distracted. "Oh? It's nothing, really. I kinda challenged Pacifica Northwest to a miniature golf war tonight."

"Let me guess. Bleach blonde?"

"Yeah."

"Filthy rich?"

"Absolutely."

"Kick her ass for me."

Mabel released a chuckle as a weak smile lingered upon her lips. "Thanks, Y/N. We should probably get you home, though."

"Sounds good. I don't want to be a burden or anything, so just show me the door and I'll be out your way."

She offered her arm to help you up, and you swayed on your unsteady feet. "That door is suddenly looking a lot farther away..." you mumbled.

Mabel then draped her arm across your shoulders, keeping you steady as you walked down the creaking stairs. By the time you met the first floor, Dipper was sulking at the table, giving you a condescending glare. "Nice job getting us nearly killed back there," he snarled.

You turned on your heel to meet his eyes, your brows dropping into a frown. "What's that supposed to mean?!" You snapped, evidently not in the mood to put up with anyone's bullshit.

"Um, destroying the memory right in front of Bill Cipher? The guy known for his notorious anger issues? What the hell were you thinking?!" He gritted his teeth, his arms widening into the air.

Out of the blue, you heard a voice in the back of your head growl, 'I'll show him some anger issues, pathetic three-dimensional meatsack.'

'I was wondering where you were hiding, Bill,' you mused through your thoughts, supposing that's how he could hear you.

'Less talking, more killing Pinetree.'

You ignored him and turned you attention back to Dipper. "What would you have done? I did the best I could with what I had, the alternative was letting Gideon take ownership of the shack." You realized your fingers had curled into a fist, and you quickly relaxed them.

"Which he ended up doing anyways," he rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms.

Mabel's eyes flickered back and forth as she nervously bit her fingernails. "Guys, can we please talk about this later? I don't want my friends to fight with each other."

The sleep deprived teen's mouth set in a hard line, not agreeing with her but clearly not willing to argue.

You heaved a sigh to calm yourself down, before looking him straight in the eyes. "Look, you don't like me, and I definitely don't like you. Can we agree not to tear each other's heads off over the summer, for Mabel's sake?" You gesturally held out my bandaged hand for him to take.

He glanced down before reluctantly taking it. "For Mabel, and only because of her, got it?"

You winced as his grip pressed against your burns, nonetheless ignoring it and agreeing. "Fair enough." He nodded almost imperceptibly and let go, freeing your hand.

Mabel sighed and slumped her shoulders, visibly relieved. "Thanks, both of you." She turned to you. "Y/N, can I at least drive you home?"

"It's fine, I'll walk," you said, waving a dismissal hand. Though before you could take another step, your knee suddenly went weak and collapsed onto the harsh floors. Mabel quickly kneeled down to your height, offering her arm again. "Or maybe not..."

She led me outside to her uncle's car, a vintage red convertible, in the rapidly fading light. "Where do you live?" she asked, not bothering to look up as she buckled herself up.

"324 Beavercreek Avenue, behind the Yumberjacks," you quickly said, staring at the car floor as you felt your cheeks heat up.

Her head shot up towards you and her eyes went wide. "That place?! I thought it was condemned."

"It should be," you muttered with contempt, still avoiding eye-contact.

Mabel turned on the headlights and drove to your apartment building in silence, the worry creasing her childish face. Once you were at the main door, she slowed down, taking in the crumbling bricks and broken windows. "This is it?"

"Yeah, thanks for the ride." you slid out your seat in embarrassment and pushed open the car door.

Before you could exit this awkward situation, one of the tenants took notice and leaned out of his window on the third floor, loosely holding a whisky bottle in his greasy fingers. "Why hello there, little lady. How do you feel about staying at my place tonight?" He slurred.

You gave him the finger as he mumbled something under his breath, before receding into his flat.

"Wait," Mabel said. "Close the door."

You did as she said and glanced at her in confusion. Before you could speak up, Mabel shifted the gears and swiftly started driving the other direction, a squeal coming from the tires.

"H-Hey, where are we going?" you asked in uncertainty, quickly buckling the seatbelt back up.

Her eyes didn't dare to leave the road. "Back to the Mystery Shack."

"But my apartment's back there."

She sighed and rested her head on the steering wheel for a moment. "I don't like the idea of you living there, even if you weren't recovering. Those guys give me the creeps, and I only saw one of them for about three seconds. We could really use some help back at the shack, Wendy can't handle manning the cash register all day. It wouldn't pay much, but there's a room we found not too long ago you can stay in. What do you say?"

If your face was red before, it was positively on fire now. "I don't want charity," you defended, awkwardly fiddling with the seatbelt strap.

"This isn't charity, it's a friend helping a friend out. Besides, you'd be working, it's not a free ride." She must've seen the shame on your face, because her tone softened. "Please, Y/N."

You blinked as you pondered momentarily, before reluctantly nodding your head. "Alright," you said, trying desperately not to cry at the pure compassion she gave you. "Thank you..."

"Anytime."

With that, Mabel drove you home in silence, not open to any more argument from you. She motioned you inside silently to not disturb her family and led you into a room full of odd knick-knacks. You were too tired and grateful to care, and soon you fell fast asleep on the dusty cot in the corner.