Mabel couldn't sleep. She just couldn't, and it was taking more of a toll on her than the already nagging stress that had caused her insomnia to surface in the first place.

Dipper, who lay not far adjacent to her left, was deep in some sort of ghost-chasing euphoria, something his twin became quite envious of. Why couldn't she, too, be dreaming peacefully? Sure, ghosts weren't her thing, but she would've gladly taken it over this. It seemed tonight just wasn't meant to be one of 'those nights'.

" Waddles, you awake?" Mabel asked.

With no oink or a squeal in response, it was apparent she was conversing with thin air.

The young teen decided that, after ten more minutes of tossing and turning with no hint of drowsiness set upon her eyes, she was going to get out of bed and see if Grunkle Stan was still up and about himself. Many times this past summer, she'd woken up in the middle of the night and found him in the kitchen or living-room, doing whatever it was that old people did at such late hours of the night. She'd been able to persuade Stan in letting her stay up while they played board games and made some syrup-laden pancakes for the morning.

But it was far later this time, about three-in-the-morning late, and Mabel was already certain that her great uncle-if he was even still awake-would send her straight back to bed, " No 'buts', kiddo."

As her feet carried her, hands fumbling wildly to latch onto the staircase railing, she stumbled down the creaking steps and saw that the kitchen lacked any form of light. No nighttime sounds seemed to radiate from its presence, it was just pitch black and eerily barren of any life.

Despite this, Mabel continued her voyage through the poignant hallway.

But again, it was flooded with darkness, just as the kitchen had been; so terribly dark, that only the soft corona of the vanilla-frosted moon outside, which barely entered through a tiny skylight from the slanted ceiling, was visible.

She tried to keep each foot in place, one in front of the other. Why she kept going, Mabel had no clue. Perhaps she needed some water, but this thought faltered all too quickly when something hindered her path.

" Mabel?"

She let out a horrified shriek. Her tiny frame slammed into something-her brain couldn't register what yet-that was rather soft. When the soft figure brushed her shoulder ever so slightly, she let loose another shriek of terror and aimlessly forced herself away.

" Kid, relax. It's just me," A voice exclaimed. Now that she could better process what was going on, Mabel took note of how surprisingly soothing and deep it had sounded.

" Grunkle Ford..?" Mabel asked breathlessly.

" The one and only," He replied, gripping her shoulder finally, " What are you doing up so late?"

" I couldn't sleep..I wanted to see if Grunkle Stan was still awake."

" That makes two of us." Ford exclaimed.

" Do you still have nightmares, Grunkle Ford?" Mabel asked.

" Sometimes," He admitted.

" Well, I think that also makes both of us."

She'd never been permitted, at least by her parents, to have even the slightest sip of Pitt Cola this early. Yet here she was, basting her tongue with its sweet and sugary glory while the sun hardly dared itself to take the moon's place so soon.

" Don't drink too much, Mabel. You don't want to get sick." Ford advised.

" I won't," His niece assured, crushing what little amount remained in the can and tossing it into the trashcan.

Her eager eyes followed as her Great uncle Ford wearily burrowed himself into the tiny armchair in front of the television set. Surprisingly, he did not shut it on. He simply sat there, eyes heavy-set as the desperation for sleep set in. Mabel realized that she too began to feel such effects, despite the sugar and caffeine from the soda, and soon found herself trailing in his footsteps toward the couch.

" You said you had a nightmare?" Her Grunkle asked.

" Well, not tonight, actually. But I haven't been able to get to any sleep because I'm afraid I'll have the dream all over again."

Ford motioned for his niece to come closer, which she did. Mabel got as comfortable as she could, snuggling up against his shoulder before she said anything.

" Bill tried to take over the world again, Grunkle Ford! He hurt us all...destroyed our home...but worst of all, he made sure you and Grunkle Stan never made up."

" Aw, it was only a dream Mabel. We defeated Bill, remember? He'll never come back, not as long as we're around."

" Do you have nightmares about him too?" Mabel asked hopefully.

" Very occasionally. But I just tell myself the exact thing I just told you."

One of his hands was running through her hair now, a small, but much needed gesture that helped her remain calm.

" I guess it would be easy for me to handle it like you then, if it weren't all my fault." She managed to admit.

His hand was now frozen in place, all six fingers remorsefully clinging to the brown locks.

" What are you saying...?"

" It's my fault that Weirdmageddon happened. Bill tricked me, he played me. And it almost cost us everything." Mabel didn't hesitate to explain.

Ford had to let go of her hair before he accidentally hurt her. His fingers formed into a convulsing fist from a mixture of guilt, shame, and anger. As he pulled away, he endlessly searched himself for the right explanation.

' Bill didn't just play you, Mabel," Was the best he could do.

" Yeah, I know. But he was able to play me because I was the one who was selfish. I was the one who was scared that Dipper was going to leave me forever. I was the one who knew highschool was going to be a disaster. I was the one who assumed that I would never see my family again. So...I gave him the rift thing and almost got everyone killed."

" But you didn't know it was him," Ford exclaimed.

" I'm not smart like you or Dipper. All I'm good at is eating glitter, and knitting silly sweaters. Of course I didn't know it was him."

He honestly couldn't help himself but to chuckle a bit at Mabel's little-remaining enthusiasm, but the heavier emotions soon returned. How could this kid, who was always so happy and full of life, talk about herself in such a way?

" You know Mabel, you don't have to have twelve PhDs or be a math genius to be considered smart."

" What do you mean?" She sniffled.

" I think you're very bright for a thirteen year old girl. You underestimate yourself, when in reality, you're incredibly intelligent. Sometimes, our emotions just get in the way."

A small smile crossed the teen's face. What he was saying couldn't possibly be true, and yet, she felt so flattered that he'd said it at all. She buried her head in his chest.

" I'm glad I never pushed that button. That's one thing I managed to do right."

Ford wanted to respond, but he couldn't manage to get the right words out. A small pat against her back seemed to be just enough however, as the exhausted girl slowly closed her eyes and collapsed into his side.

" Grunkle Ford...?"

"Hmm?"

" Maybe we should talk about these things more often." Mabel uttered.

" You're right, we should."

It didn't take long for the two of them to catch the next train to sleep. Dipper and Stan would find them in the morning.

A/N: I really enjoy Ford as a character, like really enjoy him. Having him and Mabel interact is something I enjoy even more, so hopefully this story was able to prove that. I apologize if anything seems out of character or rusty, for I am still hiking up a hill that will eventually lead to a more professional writing style. I might just have to write more stories to hike further. :P (obvious foreshadowing)