Gravity Falls and its characters were created by Alex Hirsch and owned by Disney. Belle Sterling is an original character owned by MaryPSue. All credit goes to their respective creators.

The police and ambulance came an hour later. After intensive questioning, they had to spend the remainder of the day and night at the hospital. Or at least Orrie and Mr. Goodman had to. Dipper (unsurprisingly, Orrie thought to himself with a tiny snort) didn't have any injuries whatsoever to need a room, and Belle's were mild enough that the doctors let her leave the same evening after thorough treatment. So it was just him and Mr. Goodman who would have to stay behind. For Orrie it was to heal his broken arm. He'd be continued to be looked after until his parents arrived the next morning. Mr. Goodman, on the other hand, was quite old, so the staff wanted to make certain he was fit enough before discharging him.

Orrie let out a tired sigh, staring at his arm. He was so glad magic technology was becoming more widely used in hospitals; injuries and broken bones could heal nearly twice as fast than they could normally. But the magitech cast had to be worn at all times, and so it was a bit difficult trying to fall asleep with it on and its constant low humming.

He leaned back, trying to get comfortable on the hospital bed. He stared out the window. The moon and stars were remarkably bright tonight; Orrie wondered if Belle and Dipper were looking at them now. He wondered how they were coping. Was this normal for them? Maybe– they did speak a lot about their earlier adventures before. But they had been just as scared as he was confronting the cultists, just as pained and outraged to see innocents die. Orrie choked momentarily thinking about Flynn. He…he never wanted to go through something like that ever again.

A knock on the door disturbed him from his darkening thoughts. "Do you need anything for the night?" the nurse asked with a smile. Orrie shook his head.

"No thank you. I'm good."

"Alright. Will the cast make it hard for you to get some rest?"

"Um…yeah, actually." She nodded understandingly, turning to the tablet in her hand.

"This should help. We understand these devices can be quite noisy, so they have built in therapeutic charms to ease with sleeping." She drew some sort of design on the tablet, which activated the cast into glowing a soft green. Orrie could feel the calming effects immediately. "Better?"

"Much." She bade him goodnight, and Orrie soon after drifted into blissful slumber.

After a morning breakfast and one final check-up, Orrie found himself sitting in the front lobby. He felt self-conscious of the fact he was a boy with a broken arm sitting by himself in a surprisingly busy lobby. Correction: a teenager with a broken arm sitting by himself. Fortunately, most of the people passing were nurses and doctors coming in for their morning shift and not patients in dire need, but he could still feel their curious glances toward him. He kept his eyes averted, staring as best he could out the giant window panel.

The seat cushion sank a bit as someone sat beside him. Orrie looked up. "Mr. Goodman. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'll be fine," the old man answered, resting his arms in his lap. Orrie felt the edges of his lips twitch, but he couldn't bring himself to give a genial smile. They sat in silence. "…And you?" Mr. Goodman asked eventually. Orrie jerked, caught off guard since he thought the conversation had stopped.

"Uh, fine. Just…just waiting for my parents." He leaned back on one arm to make it look like he was totally indifferent about waiting for them, not at all like he was feeling awkward being around the man. Not that Mr. Goodman was a bad person—at least, Orrie was pretty sure about that; Terry had been holding him hostage as well—but…what do you say to the person who just lost his business in a single night? What do you say to the person who, through no ill intent whatsoever, nearly caused you to die and did get several others killed? What do you say to—

"I don't think Neil ever intended one of his descendants to experience the horrors he had." Orrie looked up.

"What?"

Mr. Goodman gave him a small, sad smile. "Neil Gogh. My ancestor. I don't think he ever wanted this to happen." He stared at his hands. "He realized too late after killing his dear friends what absolute power can do to the mind and soul. It corrupts you, twists you to the point that you might as well be a different person entirely. They were on the verge of capturing one of the most powerful entities in existence and make him bend to their will. In the end he gained no power, lost all his closest allies, and had to go into hiding just to remain free."

Mr. Goodman exhaled deeply. "I think it was the news report that was the final nail on the coffin for him. To read in full detail the murders of his friends, killed by his own selfish doings. He settled down in a large city miles away. He adopted a new identity. He tried to live the rest of his life as a generous, law-abiding citizen. He used all the powers and knowledge he had to bring happiness instead of heartache to others. He wrote all of this down in his journal, a journal that's been passed down as a dark heirloom for many generations. I suppose he was trying to atone for his sins." Orrie let his gaze fall, staring at the floor. He could hear Mr. Goodman's voice tighten as he continued. "He died believing himself wholly unrepentable. But his newfound desire to help others was passed on to his children, and his children's children, and all the generations after. I too inherited that desire. So I wanted to reopen the manor to the public. Of course, the murder mystery would be the main draw, but I wished to hold other events and activities to enjoy. Soon the mansion that had housed tragedy and betrayal so long ago became a mansion full of fun and creating happy memories for people of all walks of life. And for years I was living in a dream come true."

He brought his hands up, gingerly wiping the tears from his eyes before they could fall. "Susie…Ms. Wheatly…was a dear friend of mine. Sue and I met many years ago, and she supported me from the very beginning, back when opening the family home to the public was just an inkling of an idea. It was all her idea to use nursery rhymes as hints, you know. Made all of them herself." Mr. Goodman sniffled. Before he realized what he was doing, Orrie patted the old man on the shoulder.

"I'm…I'm so sorry for your loss." Mr. Goodman sniffed again.

"It's okay, Orrie. I accept what has happened. And we'll recover from it one day." Orrie didn't miss his use of the inclusive term. But he couldn't speak of the matter for long; Orrie's parents had arrived and hurried quickly to the receptionist's desk. "Those are your folks?"

"Yes." He stood. He paused. He looked back. "What about you? Do you have anyone to pick you up?"

"I'll be fine," Mr. Goodman said, smiling softly. "My business won't, though. I'm shutting down the Manor of Alcor once I get home. Too much death has transpired inside it. Maybe I'll sell it after I remove all the runes lacing it, or perhaps I'll have it demolished. Maybe I'll start another attraction elsewhere. Who knows what the future holds." He stood up himself, patting Orrie gently on the shoulder. "Goodbye Orrie, and be safe. And tell your folks all the expenses were paid for and then some. Half a million some. It's the least I can do."

Orrie couldn't reply right away. "Thank you, Mr. Goodman," he at last said. "And good luck with everything. Take care." The old man shook his hand briefly before heading out the front doors. Orrie watched him leave as his parents sprinted over to him and nearly crushed him in their tight, protective embraces.

Orrie stared at the blank plaster that was his bedroom ceiling. He'd been doing that a lot the last two weeks since he returned home from the hospital. Just lie on his bed and stare into space, contemplating. He hadn't touched his sketchbook in ages. He didn't want to. Not so much because of what it reminded him of (as if he could ever forget that anyway) but more so because he didn't wish to upset his parents even further. For them to see their son still interested in the demon who caused all this, albeit inadvertently? They'd probably go into a panic thinking he was possessed or brainwashed or something.

They were being a bit too overprotective, though, he long since realized. Walking with him practically everywhere he went except to school, texting him every thirty minutes whenever he was away to see if he was fine, peeking into his room when they thought he wouldn't notice. Orrie sighed. He loved his parents. But no matter how often he told them he was alright, they'd just nod their heads as if they understood and put on a fake smile that clearly said they weren't listening. Perhaps once the cast was finally removed they'd see he was fine and give him his space.

Orrie inhaled then exhaled deeply before rolling onto his side. His eyes settled on the sketchbook resting on his dresser. He looked away, convincing himself that he didn't need to worry about them. That they were alright. That they probably weren't even thinking of him as often as he was of them. His gaze returned to the book. Yeah, he hadn't been very good at lying to himself lately. Why shouldn't he make sure everything was fine with the Sterlings? They were his friends now. His parents' worry for him could wait.

Quietly, Orrie slipped off the bed and crept toward his bedroom door. It was very late at night; he could hear his father's soft snores coming from down the hall. Still, to be safe, he locked his door so no one could intrude. He was sorely underprepared what with this being a last-minute idea, but maybe an exception could be made. And it wouldn't be for long anyway. Orrie walked over to his sketchbook and tore out a blank page, placing it on the floor. Grabbing a marker, he expertly drew the summoning circle on the paper, referencing his notes multiple times to make certain nothing was amiss. He then went to his backpack and pulled out the sympathy chocolate bar one of his teachers at school gave him after his first day back from the hospital and placed it just outside the circle. Taking a shuddering breath to calm himself, he took out a tiny switchblade and cut thinly across his finger, letting a few bloody drops fall onto the circle.

He whispered the incantation quietly but clearly.

The lights in his room flickered before taking on an unearthly bright blue shade. Smoke unfurled from the center of the circle, expanding rapidly until it took the shape of a certain demon floating cross-legged above it, not even bothering to contain himself within its small circumference. His gaze was initially on the paper, disdain obvious as he leered at the crude method of summoning, lack of candles, and meager offering. But when he looked up and spotted who his summoner was, his contempt shifted quickly into mild disbelief.

"Orrie?" The boy, however, said nothing. Instead, he reactively backed away closer to his door, fear flashing in his eyes at the sight of the deceptively young adult human male. The demon blinked before realizing the problem. "Oh, right. How's this?" In an instant, Alcor regressed in apparent age, being now the even younger and much more familiar Dipper Sterling…clothes and demonic features notwithstanding. Orrie relaxed a bit.

"Hey there, uh…" He probably should have figured out what to call him before summoning him. "Di…Alcor?"

"Is there anyone who can eavesdrop?" Alcor asked. Orrie shook his head. "Then call me Dipper."

A small, internal sigh. "Hey Dipper. It's been a while. I just, um, I just wanted to know how you and Belle were doing." He played with his fingers nervously. Even if this was his friend, this was still his first time alone with a demon, particularly one known for being unpredictable. Without his sister to keep him in check, what was Dipper really like? Would he find this summons a complete waste of his time?

Dipper paused for a brief second. "That's it? You just want to know how we're doing?" He stared deeper at Orrie. "Is that really all?"

The boy shuddered slightly under the intense gaze, but he refused to look away from the golden irises. "Yes. I…" Dare he admit it? "I really do wonder how you're both doing. Are you okay? Is Belle? She did get hurt even though the doctors let her go that same day. I know you've been through danger like that before, but you're still kids. Well, Belle is, and you're acting like one. Wait, don't take that the wrong way! I just—" He took a deep breath. "I was worried about you guys. But since I didn't hear anything from you I just assumed you were doing well. And had moved on. But I just needed to be sure, and so…" He gestured vaguely to the lame ritual preparations.

Dipper chuckled. "So you decided to summon me just to check up on us?" His eyes seemed to brighten as he looked around the room once more. "You do know it's not a good idea to summon the most dangerous demon known on a whim, right?" Orrie smiled sheepishly, remembering.

"I'm sorry. I only wanted to make sure, even if you forgot about me."

"Forgot?" Dipper was quick to question, much to Orrie's surprise. "Why would we forget about you? You're our friend, Orrie. At least I thought we were."

"We are! I mean, we are, right? I want to be. You, me, Belle– I didn't think everything we'd done would lead to nothing between us. But like I said, when I didn't hear anything from you I thought you'd gotten over everything. And it's not like I didn't try to call you or contact you, but I couldn't find your numbers or anything."

"Well, we don't exactly put that information out in the open for just anyone to find," smirked Dipper. "But I see how you came to this decision. I have no excuse for not being able to contact you; Belle wanted to check up on you right after we came home from the hospital, but I convinced her to give you your space. I figured sooner or later you'd come around to telling us you were fine." He rubbed the back of his neck. "The days passed, and you never did. I popped in every once in a while to see you myself. But when I saw you actively keeping your distance from your sketchbook, I assumed you wanted nothing more to do with us."

Orrie's eyes widened at the admission. "What? No, I was keeping my distance so I wouldn't worry mom and dad. I didn't think…oh wow, this has been a huge misunderstanding." He laughed, careful to keep his volume controlled and not loud enough to wake his parents. He looked at Dipper, smile still plastered on his face. "I'm fine. My arm is healing well; I'll get the cast off in about a week. And my parents have me going to counseling, which is going alright. I haven't had nearly as many nightmares since starting at least. And we donated most of the prize money I got to charity; only a small bit we're keeping for my college savings and the therapy."

Dipper nodded. "That's good. Belle and I are doing just fine, and she'll be excited to hear you're doing well too. We didn't need the money either, so we gave it to some family friends of ours. Our lives have pretty much gotten back to normal, or what passes as normal for us. Despite how exciting as our lives can get, this isn't exactly something that happens every other Tuesday. We really were worried about you." To hear that from the demon in person made Orrie speechless for a moment.

"Thank you," he mumbled, looking down. After a brief moment he looked back up, meeting Dipper's gaze again, a spark of hope in his eyes. "So summer vacation is about to start, and I was wondering, if you and Belle had nothing better to do, we could…hang out? Catch up on things? Solve our own, less dangerous mysteries? Maybe even at Gravity Falls? My parents have kinda been planning a trip there for ages now. And it'd be cool if we had some people who knew the place well enough to give us a tour." He gave the demon his best winning smile.

Dipper only laughed at the silent plea. "We'll see. Then again, what better way is there to spend a summer holiday than with friends, right?"