9-14 23-8-9-3-8 6-15-18-4 9-19 3-15-14-6-21-19-5-4 2-25 20-8-5 5-24-9-19-20-5-14-3-5 15-6 18-9-14-7-19 15-14 14-5-16-20-21-14-5 25-5-20 8-5 8-1-19 11-14-15-23-14 1-2-15-21-20 20-8-5 5-24-9-19-20-5-14-3-5 15-6 1-12-9-5-14-19 6-15-18 15-22-5-18 20-8-18-5-5 4-5-3-1-4-5-19

Stan shivered and wrapped his blazer closer around him. It hadn't quite gotten cold enough for a proper jacket, it was still late September, but the foggy morning air still had a biting chill to it. He'd walked the kids to the bus stop that morning, letting Ford sleep in a little bit, and waved as he watched the tiny red taillights of the bus fade into the mist. Stan looked around, a bit wary of the forest, sighed, and turned to go home.

Ford was already awake when Stan got back. He was standing over the gas lit stove, trying to wrap his head around how to fry eggs again. "...Do chicken eggs still need to be cooked until they're firm, or can I just eat them like this?" He muttered to himself, scratching his chin.

Stan made sure to make heavy footsteps into the kitchen, not wanting to startle Ford with his sudden presence. "Please don't tell me you're trying to cook breakfast, Ford." Stan grabbed the whole carton of eggs from the fridge and looked over Ford's shoulder to see his handiwork. "What are you trying to make?"

"Oh, good morning, Stan." Ford said, jumping back a little bit. Not much, but enough for Stan to take notice. "I was just making some eggs. Easy enough, right? It's still the same stove, I just can't remember how chicken eggs are supposed to be eaten. I know we always used to cook them, but you'd be surprised how many dimensions have eradicated salmonella and developed a taste for raw eggs." Ford paused, as if mulling something over in his head. "Do… Do you want one?"

"I'm pretty hungry, but if anyone's making breakfast, it'll be me. You look lost. I'll show you, step aside." Stan nudged his brother to one side, and lit the gas stove. "How do you want your eggs? Sunny side up, scrambled?"

"Sunny side up is fine, Stan." Ford said, watching Stan work. "If they ever lift the burn ban, I'll make something over a fire for you."

Stan chuckled and cracked two eggs over the sizzling pan. "Burn ban, shmurn-ban. I'd like to see you out-marshmallow-roast me."

"I haven't roasted marshmallows in a very long time," Ford smirked. "But have you ever tried roasted basabasa?"

"What the hell is that?" Stan poked the eggs and added some sausage to the pan.

"It's essentially a fire breathing chicken. Very rare around these parts, but they're considered an invasive and poisonous species in Dimension 890-E. Made a lot of money getting rid of those things, and had some decent food to boot."

"Are they spicy?" Stan laughed at his own joke and slapped his knee with the spatula he was using.

"No, they're actually very bland, especially if you lack any seasoning; a real chicken tastes a lot better. The fire they breathe is a cold, ghostly one, though, and the glands that help produce it are delicious on a hot day."

Stan was pretty intrigued, his brother didn't share little stories like this often, he almost felt like they were kids again. "Hand me a plate, will you?"

"Sure." Ford said, reaching into a cabinet and pulling out three plates. "Fiddleford will be up soon, I'll just make breakfast for him when he comes up."

"Don't sweat it, the fire's still hot, I'll make him a plate too." Stan plated the eggs and sausage for Ford and got started on cooking up two more eggs.

"I can do it, Stan." Ford said, giving a light smile. "You cook every day, you should give yourself a break."

"The pot's calling the kettle black." Stan shoved the plate at Ford. "Go sit down and eat for once. Let me handle the food."

"Well… Will you at least join me?" Ford asked.

Stan smiled and hurried to finish what he had in his pan. "Yeah, I'll be there in a sec."

Ford waited patiently for Stan to finish cooking, taking only small bites of the sausage every now and then, and after a while, Stan took a seat across from Ford. Stan sprinkled some salt and pepper across his eggs and started to scarf down his breakfast. It wasn't gourmet, far from it, but knowing he was eating with his brother made the food taste great.

"It's hard to believe I've been back for over a month." Ford said, using his fork to slice open the yolk. "Even after everything that happened, it's starting to feel like home again."

"It feels almost strange to have a full house every day, but I don't hate it. I'm pretty glad you and Fiddleford are around." Stan paused. "And… I'm glad the kids had somewhere to turn after their parents passed. I wish Sherman and Alexandria were still alive, but I'd never forgive myself if those kids got lost in the system." Stan said, tears welling up in his eyes at the mention of the kids parents. "It means a lot that you let me stay in your house. The kids have a home, thanks to us. Thanks to you." He cleared his throat, trying to blink away the tears in his eyes.

"...The house wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you though." Ford said after a long while. "You're the one who made sure I had something to come back to. Christ, I don't know what I would have done if I'd just walked into an empty room, with an empty house above it."

"Well, me and the kids aren't going anywhere, so don't go thinking about empty houses, alright?" Stan forced a smile and finished his breakfast. "What's on your agenda today, Ford?"

"Well, Fiddleford and I are probably going to work double time in the basement today, we lost too much time yesterday at the mall. It was worth it, but we really should get back to business." Ford said, grabbing their plates and putting them in the sink to be washed later.

"Business?" Stan said, glancing out the window. "You two are always stuck down there, why don't you take another break? We could watch a movie? They made some new Star Wars ones while you were gone, you really missed out on a lot."

"I appreciate it Stan, but maybe later. I'm sure when Fiddleford wakes up he'll want to keep working on his memories. You can join us, if you wish-"

"No. Er, no thanks, I've spent enough time in your creepy basement." Stan said, backing away from Ford. "Come on, you deserve a break."

Fiddleford plodded into the kitchen with a big yawn He had slept in the sweater Mabel had given him, and his overalls last night, not wanting to mess up his new clothing. "Good mornin'." He stretched in the doorway and gave both Stan and Ford a big smile.

"Morning, Fiddleford." Stan said, raising his head in acknowledgement. "Say, you like those Star Wars movies?"

"Are those the ones with them light swords? I think I've seen one of those before." He shrugged and rooted around in the fridge for some breakfast.

Stan exaggerated his surprise "Whaaaat? You can't remember the Star Wars movies? Ford, we have to fix- hey!" Stan yelped as Ford grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him into the living room.

"Alright Stan, what's going on?" Ford asked, furrowing his brow. "Why are you so desperate to keep me out of the basement?" Ford sighed, a bored look on his face. "What did you do? Did you set up a prank somewhere in the house?"

Stan crossed his arms, "Why do you assume I'm trying to trick you? Maybe I genuinely want to indulge you with nerdy crap." Stan spoke defensively.

"Stan, I know for a fact that you can be a more convincing liar than that." Ford said. "Just tell me where the whoopee cushion or fake fountain pen is so Fiddleford and I can get to work. This is important, Stanley. I don't have time for your games." He huffed.

Stan froze, his heart accelerated and he forgot how to breathe. He could feel Filbrick Pines breathing down his neck, the sharp pang of his voice, you're not welcome in this household, you ignoramus, you mistake. Stanley didn't feel himself back away from Ford, he didn't feel his own nails digging into his legs, his whole body tensing. He felt like nothing was real anymore, like he was just watching everything else pass him by. He's gonna leave me behind all over again.

"Stanley?" Ford asked, picking up on the symptoms he himself knew by heart. Something's not right, he hasn't been this bad since the synagogue. Ford slowly wrapped an arm around Stan's shoulder, guiding him through the living room and to Stan's own room, away from Fiddleford.

Stan winced at his brother's touch and blindly followed him to the sanctity of his bedroom. He blinked and realized where he was, who was in front of him. Filbrick Pines was dead, and he had been for years. This was Stanford, and he hadn't left. Stan ran his hands over his face and through his hair, his glasses turning askew as the palm of his hand brushed against the lens. He took a deep, shuddering breath and whispered, "I'm sorry, Ford."

"Are you alright? What… What happened?" Ford had a sinking feeling he already knew the answer, but he sat down next to Stan and waited for him to reply. "Don't be sorry… Just tell me, Stan."

"Its..." Stan chuckled a little, his voice still shaking nervously, "You uh, sounded a lot like Dad."

"I'm sorry." Ford said, mentally kicking himself. "...He was a real prick."

"You can't help that you're related to him, it's gonna happen."

"Still, I…" Ford trailed off. "It wasn't too long ago that I was still acting like him…" Ford said, quietly, realization dawning. "...I must sound like him a lot, don't I?" He added.

"It's fine. Just, go ahead and get to your stuff in the basement. Don't worry about me. I know how to get through it." Stan said. "...Just be careful in there…" He added softly.

Ford put an arm around Stan's shoulder, pulling him close. "...You don't have to get through it alone, though."

"This happens sometimes, Ford, I'll be fine." Stan said, though he didn't pull away. Ford reached his other arm out, pulling Stan into a bear hug. Stan leaned into his brother and closed his eyes, finally starting to relax again. "Ford, really, I'm okay. Come on, I still have to make the hillbilly some breakfast."

"Stan, I'll do it. What good would you showing me how to cook do if I didn't practice? But if you want to make sure I don't ruin the kitchen, I'd appreciate it." What Stan needed was validation, Ford had felt the same way a thousand times before. He did have work to do, but the most important thing right now was his brother's mental health. "...And once breakfast is done, let's watch a movie. I'm sure Fiddleford wouldn't mind."

Stan fixed his glasses and broke away from Ford to stand up. "Yeah... That sounds nice. Thanks, Ford." Stan's old Nokia started buzzing on the nightstand, playing the annoyingly classic Nokia ringtone. Stan huffed and picked his phone up, squinting at the screen before answering. It was an unknown number, likely a solicitor. "Yeah, hello?"

A sniffly voice came from the other line. "Grunkle S-Stan? I need you to p-pick me up." Stan blanched.

Ford stood up once Stan answered the phone. "Who is it? What's happening?"

"Mabel, sweetie, what's wrong? I'm on my way right now." Stan said, running out of his room and towards the front door, Ford on his heels, a million different scenarios of what could be happening running through his head, many of them a repeat of what had happened the night of the Bar Mitzvah.

Mabel was silent on the other end of the phone, her voice hesitant, "I… um... I'm sick. I need to go home."

"Don't worry, Mabel, I'm on my way. Just sit tight, okay? I'll be there in ten minutes." Stan said. Ford ducked into the kitchen to tell Fiddleford where they were going, once Stan found his keys, they were off, careening towards the school as fast as the Stanley Mobile could carry them.

The school was thirty minutes away, if you obeyed traffic laws. But this was Stanley Pines on his way to rescue his niece, it only took him 7 minutes, flat. He stayed on the line the whole time, listening to Mabel to make sure she was OK. She didn't sound sick, but she could have picked up anything from public school. "Okay, Mabel, we're here, I'll see you inside. I love you." He hung up when he took up a handicapped parking space and ran up to the school's entrance, Ford following behind him. Ford nearly kicked the door down, before Stan reminded him that as visitors they had to buzz in outside before the door would unlock.

Once they found their way to the nurse's office, the found Dipper pacing outside of the Nurse's office, picking at his bright green cast. "Grunkle Stan! Great Uncle Ford! Mabel asked me to walk her to the nurse's office but she wouldn't tell me what's wrong, is she going to be okay?"

"She told us over the phone she was sick, sport." Stan said.

"We'll have to pull her out of classes, will you be alright riding home on the bus by yourself?" Ford asked.

"Yeah... Yeah, I think I'll be okay... Just tell me if Mabel is gonna be okay." Dipper sat down in a chair outside of the office.

"We will, Dipper." Stan knocked on the door and poked his head in. Mabel was standing near the wall, with her hands tucked behind her back, her sweater tied around her waist.

"Oh, good, you must be her uncles." The school nurse, a short woman named Mrs. Huckabee, said. "Did she tell you to bring her a change of clothes?" Mabel's face flushed red.

"What exactly is going on here?" Stan asked. "Mabel, pumpkin, are you alright?"

Mabel shook her head and started to tear up, fumbling with the sleeves of her sweater.

The nurse sighed and handed Ford a clipboard to sign Mabel out of school. "Mabel started for her first time."

"Started what?" Ford asked. "I haven't been in this di- country for a while, I'm not up to date on slang terms."

A lightbulb popped over Stan's head and even he flushed a little. "Oh. OH. I'm sorry I didn't bring you some clothes, Mabel."

Ford knew that flush. He'd seen it a thousand times in his youth. Stan might have been a walking encyclopedia of cheesy pickup lines and false confidence, but when it came to health class, Stan had always been very modest, and whenever their mother had needed Stan to fetch her anything 'feminine' it had been a nightmare. Ford slowly knelt down to Mabel's level, took off his trench coat, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Mabel started to bawl. She knew what Ford's coat meant to him, and she was embarrassed enough as it was.

"Mabel, it's okay," Ford whispered. "Did you see this thing when I stepped out of the portal? It was literally black with filth, a little blood isn't going to hurt it."

Stan grabbed Mabel's backpack for her and pulled the nurse aside. "Listen, I just got custody of Mabel and her brother, I've never raised any kids of my own. What exactly do I need to buy for this sort of thing?"

"Well, I'd start her out on pads. Kotex makes a line specifically for young girls, I'd make a stop at the drugstore before you take her home. If she's having cramps you can give her a couple of ibuprofen and she'll be alright. The first time is always a little traumatic, especially since she wasn't expecting it, but she'll be okay." Mrs. Huckabee said.

Stan sighed and hiked Mabel's backpack over his shoulder. "Thanks. Would you write a pass for her brother? He's been standing outside this whole time worried sick."

"Of… Of course, I'll get right on that." She said, reaching into her desk to fill out a hall pass.

"Come on, Mabel, let's get you home." Ford said, scooping Mabel into his arms and carrying her, making sure the coat didn't fall off her shoulders. Mabel clung to Ford, gripping his sweater. Stan got the door for his brother and held it open so he could carry Mabel down the hallway. Dipper jumped up when he saw them.

"Mabel! Are you alright? What's wrong?" Dipper asked, rubbing at the cast on his arm.

Mabel poked her head out from Ford's shoulder and faked a smile, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "I'm okay! I'll see you at home, DipDop. Tell everyone I'm okay." Her voice was shaky and she had snot in her nose. Mrs. Huckabee followed them out, and handed Dipper his hall pass. Dipper took it, but the worry didn't fall from his face. He waved as Mabel and the Grunkles disappeared down the hallway.

Stan opened the car door for Ford once they got to the car so he could lay Mabel down in the back seat. Mabel curled up and put her seat belt on. Ford slid in the back seat with Mabel and put his seatbelt on as well, following Mabel's example. Stan hopped in the front seat and made an effort to go slow as they drove off, not wanting Mabel to get hurt in her state.

"We're going to make a little stop so I can get some... supplies for you. I'll be fast and come right back so we can get home." Stan said as they pulled up to their local drugstore. "I'll be in and out, I promise." He hopped out of the car and swallowed his pride as he strolled inside and down the 'feminine hygiene' aisle. Every single box was pink or purple, priced over seven bucks, and seemed to be in a foreign language. "What the hell are wings?" Stan asked aloud, making another woman leave the aisle. Stan searched for a Kotex box, but he didn't find any that seemed to be marketed towards young girls like Mrs. Huckabee had told him. Stan sighed and grabbed a couple of boxes at random, making sure to go for the pinkest boxes with the most flowers, knowing Mabel would at least like the packaging. "Hopefully these work." He whispered to himself as he brought them to the check out.

In the car, Mabel had unbuckled her seat belt, and was curled up next to Ford.

"...Grunkle Ford, thank you." Mabel said, fiddling with the sleeves of Ford's trench coat. "I'm so embarrassed. It happened right before gym class, everyone in the girl's locker room saw the stain on my skirt and started laughing. I had to get Dipper and Coach Berkley to walk me to the nurse's office."

"Oh, Mabel, I'm sorry. You don't deserve that. It's a completely natural occurrence, that's vital to both your health and our continued survival as a species."

"...Really?"

"Doesn't that middle school have a health class?" Ford asked. Granted, middle school education in the 1960s likely hadn't improved much over the years, but it was still a health class.

"We do, but they just show pictures of sick people and tell us about babies. I mean, I like babies, but I have questions and- and mom isn't-" Mabel shook with sobs.

"I'm sorry, Mabel," Ford said, wrapping an arm around her. "I miss her, too… But if you still have questions, I can answer them."

"Grunkle Ford, y-you can't re-remember h-how to work the VCR." Mabel cried, hiding her face in her sleeve. What Mabel needed in that moment was her mother, and the pain in her body amplified the pain in her heart.

"True, after thirty years of experiencing vastly different technologies I have gotten a little rusty, but though they were rare, I did encounter a few different versions of Earth. The basic biological systems should be the same. With your Grunkle Stan's help, I'm positive we both can answer your questions, Mabel."

Just then, Stan unlocked the door and hopped back in the car, and handed Mabel the bag of products he just bought. Along with the mix of tampons and pads, he included a couple of candy bars he knew Mabel liked. "Is this going to be okay, Mabel?"

"I think so…" Mabel said, taking a candy bar out of the bag and slowly unwrapping it.

Stan started the car up and looked at Mabel from his rear view mirror. "Let's get home." He backed out of his parking spot, cringing as he nearly missed another vehicle, stifling a string of curse words.

Fiddleford was there to greet them when they got home, stirring a pot of chicken broth on the stove.

"Well, howdy, Mabel. Stanford told me you was feelin' under the weather, so I whipped up some soup fer ya." He said, scratching his newly trimmed beard. He was a little shocked to see Mabel wrapped up in Stanford's coat, it must have been worse than he thought. "I'll make you a bowl and bring it up to ya, you go get yourself some rest."

Mabel flushed bright red, nodded, and scurried up the stairs to go change, handing Ford's coat back to him. Ford wrapped the coat in a bundle and went to the kitchen sink to wash it by hand.

Upstairs, Mabel grabbed a change of clothes and locked herself in the bathroom, throwing her old ones in her hamper, trying to ignore the tiny stain on her skirt. She read over the instructions included in the box of pads Stan had picked out over and over, before finally attempting to put one on. It seemed really big, almost too big, but she managed to stick the pad to her underwear. She hated the feeling. Its like some kind of... diaper. This happens every month? Oh god, I hate this. Mom would know what to do. Mabel washed her hands thoroughly and splashed some water in her face. She looked in the mirror for a while. Getting your period is the official stamp of being a woman, but Mabel didn't feel like a woman. She felt like a scared little girl. She looked like a little girl.

Mabel began to cry again and spotted some scissors sitting on the bathroom counter next to her hair brush. She reached for the cold handle of the scissors and brought the blades close to a lock of her long curly hair. She squeezed her eyes shut and snip, a curl fell to the floor. Mabel felt a rush, of what she wasn't sure, but she couldn't stop chopping away her brown locks until they came up to the nape of her neck, just like mom's… She opened her eyes, expecting a beautiful cut for a beautiful young woman.

Instead she saw a frightened little girl with a jagged hairline that looked more like a rat's nest than hair.

She dropped the scissors and screamed. What had she done? She can't go to school tomorrow like this. She can't even come out of the bathroom like this! Her heart nearly stopped beating when she heard footsteps running up the stairs. She might not have to.

Ford kicked down the bathroom door.

"Mabel! What's wrong, are you hurt, is something attacking?!" He yelled, grabbing his pistol and shoving Mabel behind him.

Mabel screamed back, "No, Grunkle Ford, stop! Just leave me alone!"

Ford eyed the scissors and the locks of hair on the floor, and put the pistol away. He knelt down to Mabel's level. "Mabel, it's okay, we can fix this. It's just hair, you'll be fine."

Mabel sank to her knees and grabbed fistfulls of her hair. "I'm so stupid. I thought- I thought I'd look like mom."

"Oh, Mabel." Ford said, tears welling up in his eyes. "You're not stupid. You already look like your mother. It's just a bad haircut, we'll fix it, good as new."

Stan rushed up the stairs to check on the commotion and gasped. "Woah… Mabel, sweetie..." He pulled his phone out and started dialing. "I'm calling Wendy." Wendy was, sadly, the only woman Stan knew who he could trust, and he knew that she loved Dipper and Mabel. Wendy had to know what to do.

"Mr. Pines, I'm at school, I can't come in to work right now." Wendy said, picking up the phone after two rings.

"Wendy, we both know you're playing hooky. I need your help. It's… It's Mabel. Its a woman thing, she needs help,and Ford and I are totally lost." Stan said.

"I'll be right over." Wendy said. "Thompson, drive us to the Mystery Shack!" Her voice sounded farther away, and then the other end of the line went dead.

Mabel fell against Ford's chest and kept crying, she was completely exhausted, and just wanted to hide. Ford wrapped his arms around her, rubbing circles into her back.

"It'll be okay, Mabel. We'll get through this." Ford said softly.

Wendy arrived about ten minutes after she got the call, bringing a grocery bag stuffed with various items for Mabel. She let herself inside with her emergency key and called out, "Yo, Mr. Pines! Where's everybody at?" She climbed the stairs and found Stan and Ford outside of Mabel's bedroom. Stan stood off to the side, arms crossed and worry evident on his face. Ford was pacing, wringing his hands. "Geez, you guys really do look lost. Is it really that bad?"

"Yes. It's that bad." Ford huffed. "She's in there laying down."

Wendy knocked on Mabel's door and spoke through the crack, "Hey Mabel, can I come in? I brought you some stuff." Mabel's voice was faint, but it was enough to hear a yes.

Wendy slides in the room, where Mabel had the covers over her head. "Aw, man. Are you cramping? My cramps hurt like hell when I was your age." She sat down on the edge of Mabel's bed and fished out a little box of midol and a Gatorade from her grocery bag and placed them on Mabel's nightstand. "This stuff helps when you get cramps and you feel all bloaty… Mabes, are you okay?"

Mabel responded with a quick, "No," from under the covers.

"Wanna tell me what's wrong?" Wendy asked, leaning back against the headboard.

"No." Mabel pulled the covers tighter.

"You can tell me, dude, I've been through a lot of the same stuff you have." Wendy patted the lump of blankets that she guessed were Mabel's head.

Mabel groaned and slowly pulled the covers back, revealing her choppy new hairdo.

"Oh. Man. Did you try that yourself?" Wendy ran her hand through Mabel's hair gently. "Wow. I've seen worse, Mabel. Heck, I've done worse. You should see what I did to Thompson two years back... This is totally an easy fix. I do Tambry's hair all the time, I can clean this up and you'll look absolutely cute. Do you trust me?" Wendy tousled Mabel's hair and sat back. "Is that what had your uncles all worried? I don't think they know a lot about this kinda thing, but Ford does have a PhD, so I figured maybe…" Wendy sighed. "Why'd you cut your hair, kiddo?"

Mabel sits up and held one of her stuffed animals close. "I'm supposed to be a woman now, right? I had my bat mitzvah last year, and now my period, and I'm supposed to be a lady, and I'm only a year away from high school. But I don't feel like a woman. I thought… if I cut my hair to look like my mom… I'd look like she did. "

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, dude. First of all, I'm pretty sure you look like your mom already. I've never met her, but Stan showed me a picture, and I'd say you look like her." Wendy said. "Second, just because you had your bat mitzvah, and you have your period, doesn't mean you're a woman. It doesn't just happen, like a werewolf transformation or something. It just means you're starting to become a woman. You're thirteen, you're still a little kid, you've got so many prime kid years ahead of you. People are going to try and tell you oh, you're a woman now, you should act like this or that, but until you turn eighteen? You're still a kid. No matter what happens."

Mabel sniffled and wiped her eyes. She leaned against Wendy and wrapped her in a tiny hug. "You promise? I don't want to grow up yet."

"I promise." Wendy said, returning the hug. "Let's go let your uncles know you're feeling better, huh? Then I'll fix your hair, and you and me can pig out on some chocolate."

Mabel scooted out of her covers and climbed out of bed. "Yeah… yeah, okay." She opened her door, with Wendy right behind her. Ford and Stan stood at attention, afraid to say anything to upset Mabel again.

"...Mabel?" Stan asked softly. "You feelin' a little better, sweetie?"

Mabel nodded softly. "Mmhmm. I… I still have questions, though."

"Alright, Mabel. Shoot." Ford said.

"What… exactly is a period?"

"Well, we'll start with the basics." Ford said. "You see, inside your body, just below your stomach and intestines, is an organ known as the uterus. This is the organ in which the fetus develops before birth. The interior chamber of the uterus houses thousands of tiny eggs, which the male later fertilizes. Once fertilization is complete, the eggs, now called embryos, will attach themselves to the uterine wall, where they will grow until one, or in your and my cases, two, embryos grow into a fetus. Now, since the eggs inside your uterus have not been fertilized, your uterus is simply flushing out the unused eggs to make room for more, to prevent overcrowding. This is perfectly normal, and incredibly important in maintaining proper genetic diversity within the population. Am I going too fast?"

"Dr. Pines I'm going to be completely honest with you here," Wendy said. "That is absolutely not how humans work. Christ, we're not in dimension fifty-whatever. Mabel, I'll give it to you simple. Your body is getting ready for its baby making future. Every month, a single egg moves from the ovaries, through the fallopian tubes, into the uterus, and then the uterus goes hog wild trying to fatten itself up to support a potential baby. And every month, it gets rid of a potential baby that you aren't using, and the excess lining, and it's so tiny, you just bleed it out. Which sucks, cause it's like your whole body is turning against you. So you keep doing that until you decide you want a baby."

"But I'm too young to have a baby." Mabel said.

"Exactly." Stan said. "So don't go fiddling around havin' sex with boys, and you won't. And if some snot nosed brat tries to push you around, kick 'em in the teeth."

"Wait. So you have to have sex with a boy to have a baby, right? Why would I go and do that?" Mabel asked, still a little confused.

"Frankly, Mabel, I'm not sure." Ford said. "The concept of sex is vastly overrated, in my opinion, and childbirth isn't that much better. Apparently 'when the time is right' your hormones will fluctuate and just kind of… make you want to procreate and have children? But I've never observed this kind of behavior in either myself nor several other colleagues from various other human-populated dimensions."

Mabel put her hands on her hips. "So you're like... Asexual?"

"Wait, what?" Ford asked, raising an eyebrow.

Wendy sighed and rubbed her face. "This is a train wreck. Mabel, let's go sit down and all talk about this in the kitchen or something. Go get your computer, Mabel, we're giving your uncles a lesson." Mabel shrugged and went to go grab her laptop from her room.

Wendy grabbed both Ford and Stan by their hands and dragged them downstairs. "You two really are lost."

The family and Wendy had been sitting at the table for a few hours, huddled around Mabel's laptop, by the time Dipper came home from school. "Mabel, what happened to your hair? What's going on?"

"Oh, I, uh… I tried to cut it myself. Wendy's going to help me fix it." Mabel said.

"Wow...okay. Are you feeling better now?" Dipper sat at the table and looked over Wendy's shoulder at the laptop and balked. "What is that?"

"That would be a diagram of the uterus, Dipper." Wendy said.

"Ew why would you… wait… oh gross!"

Mabel threw one of her bracelets at Dipper's head. "Deal with it, Dip Dop, its happening! The talk."

Dipper tried to hide in his hat. "Do we have to?"

"Well, technically I was going to give you the talk over the summer, but Ford's body swapping carpet got in the way of that." Stan said, waving his hand. "Look, kid, you should probably learn this stuff now. I don't want you two getting in over your head one day and not knowing what to do."

Wendy pulled up a picture of a crying baby to mess with Dipper. "Or THIS will happen!"

Dipper sighed and took a big breath. "Alright. Fine."

Mabel pulled up the tab on sexual orientation she had open and turned it to Dipper. "But first, romance! Apparently, Grunkle Ford is biromantic asexual, Grunkle Stan is bisexual, and… Wendy what did you decide on?"

Wendy shrugged "I dunno."

"And Wendy is undecided." Mabel declared, making both of the Grunkles go red.

"Okay, Mabel, next lesson: the importance of not going around announcing other people's orientations to everyone unless they say it's okay." Ford said, covering his face.

"Sorry..." Mabel frowned and leaned her cheek on her hand. "I'm just happy for you is all."

"I know, but sometimes things like that can be really dangerous, sweetheart." Ford said. "So you have to check with them before you start telling other people."

"I understand." Mabel looked down at the table. "It's just the first thing about this whole puberty thing that doesn't involve a lot of pain and blood and stuff…"

"So, Dipper, got any questions?" Wendy asked.

Dipper blushed a little. "U-um...well... I'm not sure...how old are you supposed to be to… have sex?"

Stan deadpanned, "Thirty-six."

"Stan, NO." Wendy glared at Stanley. "You shouldn't do it if you don't feel you're ready. Its totally different for everybody. Don't let anyone tell you you have to do it by a certain time, because those people are assholes. Don't let anybody make you feel like you have to. If you get tricked into doing something you don't want to do... Just tell somebody. That goes for you and Mabel." Wendy looked serious as the grave as she spoke.

"Anyone messes with you two, call me or Ford." Stan said, somehow looking more serious than Wendy. "We'd both kill to keep you two safe."

"What if... what if someday I got pregnant, but I didn't want to be?" Mabel asked with a small voice.

"Mabel, there are thousands of different medical procedures to abort an unwanted pregnancy." Ford said. "They're all safe when done properly, and the fetus isn't really capable of surviving outside the womb until well past the cutoff date for those procedures, so you wouldn't have to worry about feeling guilty or anything."

"... You wouldn't be mad?"

"Of course not, Mabel, it's ultimately your decision. In my time I've known several women who had to abort their pregnancies, they were all fine, strong women, who didn't take their decision lightly. I wouldn't be mad in the slightest if one day you joined their ranks." Ford paused. "Though, most of them were actual warriors from other dimensions, so I'd prefer if you didn't literally join their ranks."

Mabel managed to laugh a little bit, she looked pretty relieved. "I feel a lot better now. Thank you guys."

"Anytime, kiddo. We're always going to be here for you, even if we're totally off base and have to call Wendy." Stan said, ruffling Mabel's hair.

Mabel looked to Wendy, "Can we fix my hair now?"

"Sure thing, dude. Go find a barstool or something tall to sit on and a towel. And bring me the scissors you used. Oh, and find a picture of the cut you want!"

Mabel hopped up from her seat and ran back up the stairs. When she left, Wendy emptied her grocery bag on the table, much to the men's horror. "Alright, crash course in period stuff, boys." She picked up a tampon and a pad in each hand. "This is a tampon. This a pad. They are different, and there a zillion types of each. These are the ones I like, but you should let Mabel choose her own. She's young so she's probably going to want thinner pads. Don't be scared of them, they are plastic and cotton and totally not scary. Woman up."

Dipper picked up one of the tampons and threw it at Grunkle Stan, making him jump, which made Dipper snort.

"So… where do you get the belts? For the pads?" Ford asked.

"Belts? Dude, they stick." Wendy opened one up and tore off the paper, and stuck it on Dipper's hat. "See? I think the last time they had to use belts was in what, the sixties? Fifties? Who cares, man."

Dipper peeled the pad off and laughed, sticking it on the table. "This is super weird." .

Mabel came back down with the scissors, dragging a stool down with her, and gaped at the sea of lady products on the kitchen table. "What the dink are you guys even doing!?"

Wendy took the scissors from Mabel and set them on the table. Mabel pulled up a picture on her cellphone of her mom and showed it to Wendy. "This is what I want."

Wendy took the phone and studied the picture. "This is your mom, right? I'm telling you Mabel, you're her spitting image."

"...Really?" Mabel asked.

"Yeah, man." Wendy said. "Now get your butt in a chair, I'm gonna work my magic." She said with a wink, and set about to cutting Mabel's hair.

"What do you want for dinner tonight, Mabel?" Stan asked, moving to the pantry to see what they had. "We've got spaghetti, but we don't have anything for meatballs unless you want canned meat, we've got uh… Well Fiddleford already made the soup for lunch..."

"Can we have spaghetti?" Mabel asked.

"Sure, kiddo." Stan said. "Dipper, if you've got homework, you'd better start working on it." Stan said, noticing that Dipper was trying to sneak away and leave his backpack downstairs.

"...Alright." Dipper sighed, and plopped down at the kitchen table.

"Hey, Fiddlenerd! We're done talkin' about puberty. If you've got plates I've got a sink to wash 'em in!" Stan called, grabbing a pot from a cupboard and filling it with water. Fiddleford poked his head into the kitchen from the living room, eager to put away his now empty bowl of soup. He couldn't let go to waste now that he knew Mabel wasn't sick per se.

Fiddleford raised his brow at the state of the kitchen, more than a little confused at the sudden appearance of a hair salon, and sauntered over to Ford, who still had a laptop set up at the table. "What ya got there, Stanford?" He said, setting his empty bowl on the table.

"This is Mabel's computer, she's allowed me to borrow it." Ford said, typing on the keyboard at a snail's pace. "Oh, look. They've put together a global seed bank in case the apocalypse happens. That might come in handy." He remarked.

Fiddleford slid into the chair next to Stanford to watch him use the computer. "Wow... I sure would love to take that apart, but I don't think Mabel would be too keen on it."

"I'm interested in how these work as well, though you are right. We might have to just buy one." Ford said, typing in 'astronomy discoveries since 1980s' into the search bar. "Also Neptune has rings? Apparently?"

Dipper looked up from his homework, "I have one of my older laptops you and Great Uncle Ford can use if you want."

"Oh, you don't have to go an' do that for me." McGucket said with a wave of his hand.

"No, really, it's fine. I never use it, and it's just taking up space right now." Dipper said.

"That's very generous of you, Dipper, Thank You." Ford gave Dipper a crooked smile.

Dipper hopped up from his seat. "I'll go get it for you, one sec." He rushed up the stairs to root around for his old laptop, made circa 2009.

"...I can't believe how much I missed." Ford said quietly, once Dipper was gone. "Heck, contact lenses are disposable now."

"The times change so quickly, even I miss a lot of things around here. We can learn about these things together." Fiddleford said, patting Ford's shoulder, relieved when Ford didn't shrink away at the touch.

"Thank you, Fidds." Ford said, smiling a bit. "Oh, good. This dimension figured out DNA sequencing." Ford remarked, earning a cackle from Fiddleford.

Dipper returned with the laptop in his arms, the charger bundled and resting on top. Dipper set it down in front of Fiddleford. "It still has some of my programs and files on it, but I can do a factory reset so it's just like new."

"Oh, I can take care of a lil' reset, I'm not that behind the times." Fiddleford said. "I do appreciate it, Dipper."

"Oh. Well, alright then… if you have any questions, let me know." Dipper sat back down at his spot, getting back to his homework.

Fiddleford turned the computer on and waited for it to start up. It wasn't as quick as it should be, but quicker than anything he had built in his own.

"So how... exactly do these things work?" Ford asked, once the computer had finished booting up. "I know you used to build these, but it was so long ago that I actually encountered one."

"Aw, there's not much to it. I reckon the only thing that's changed much is that they moved on to optical storage, so yer computermajig won't get ruined every time you walk past a magnet." Fiddleford cackled. "Here, I'll show ya." Fiddleford powered the machine down and turned it upside down to pry open the bottom of the computer, revealing the circuitry underneath. He let out a low whistle, like someone might give to a pretty woman. "Lookie here! Right down there's yer microprocessor, that's the part that actually does most of the computing, and there's yer RAM, which stores yer information. From there, you can basically make programs and run 'em on the computer. It used to be real limited back in our day, but nowadays you can do whatever you want." Fiddleford explained.

"Oh, so these alter reality now?" Ford said, backing away slowly.

"...Great Uncle Ford that's not quite what he meant." Dipper said, noting the confusion on McGucket's face. "I think he meant with more processing power, there are less limits on the kinds programs you can use. Better graphics and stuff like that."

"Oh, oh that's a relief." Ford said.

McGucket squinted at the circuits, trying to get a clear and up close look at everything. Bunches of ideas ran through his head, he could take apart his old computermajig and fix this one up to be even quicker than it already is.

Ford smiled a bit, taking note of the familiar gleam in Fiddleford's eye whenever he got an idea, a gleam he hadn't seen in years. "What are you thinking, Fidds?" He asked.

"I'm going to take some old parts from our old laptop and make us a custom computermajig!" Fiddleford said with a level of excitement not even comparable to his shopping trip the previous day.

"There's some tools in the basement, I'll go grab them." Ford said, standing up. "...And I'd… I'd be honored if you'd let me help you." He said, the pang of knowing he'd stopped Fiddleford from entering a billion dollar industry still fresh.

"I would love some help. Thank you, Stanford." Fiddleford smiled up sweetly at Ford, a look Ford hadn't seen in awhile.

"Okay, nerds, go make your laptop, just not at the kitchen table." Stan said, from over the stove. "I've got dinner to make and I don't think computer parts are part of the ingredients."

Fiddleford stood up with the computer in his arms "I guess we'll relocate."

"Alright, I'll go grab some tools from the basement." Ford said, standing up and making his way through the living room to the vending machine.

"Great, I'll go with ya!" Fiddleford said, following Ford.

"Oh, you really don't have to, the tools are on the third floor, it's…" Ford trailed off, unsure of what to say. "It's got mice." He added haphazardly as they walked down the stairs towards the elevator.

"Aw, hush, I ain't afraid of a little ol' mouse." Fiddleford said, hopping into the elevator and pressing the third floor button. "Besides, it can't be much creepier than yer study. I always feel like somethin's watchin' me in there." Ford froze, having to look away, knowing exactly why Fiddleford had that feeling, and knowing what could happen to Fiddleford if he ever remembered the truth. The elevator reached the third floor with a ding, and Fiddleford stepped out as nonchalantly as ever. Ford, on the other hand, felt nauseous remembering the last time they'd been this far down the basement. Images of himself, cradling Fiddleford's prone body, listening to the bright and brilliant Fiddleford reduced to mumbling gibberish and eldritch tongues, flashed through his mind.

Fiddleford paused as he looked around the basement, a familiar feeling rising in his gut. "Stanford, I've been here. I... I remember this place." Fiddleford found a place to set his laptop down and ran his fingertips over dusty old equipment.

Ford felt his heart drop. This was it. Fiddleford was going to leave, he was going to do something awful to himself, just like last time. "...You do?" Ford asked quietly.

"This is where we worked together. We were buildin' that portal, I remember bein' down here so long we forgot what time of day it was!" He chuckled a little, "You used to fall asleep while we we're workin', and I'd have to tuck you in." All of the memories washing over Fiddleford were fond ones, making important discoveries and working, and accomplishing goals.

"...That's great, Fidds." Ford said, managing a small smile. It might be because of the dismantled portal, he thought to himself. That's why he's only remembering the early days… I hope... "Let's just grab what we need and go…"

"Alright, sounds like a plan." Fiddleford smiled and picked up his new computer. "Do you have my old laptop down here too?"

"No, I think that's in our room." Ford said, reaching underneath a control panel to grab a rusted toolbox. "Think this'll be all we need?" He asked, opening the box to reveal the plethora of tools inside, not all of them native to this dimension.

"That there is perfect!" Fiddleford inspected some of the strange foreign tools, excited to see how they work.

"Great." Ford said, turning to walk out of the room. "Let's… Let's go."

Fiddleford followed out happily. This place was far less eerie than he'd imagined, and gave Fiddleford the confidence that he was still the great scientist he once was. What's more, it gave him an extra bit of his memories back, a little extra piece of Stanford to hold onto until he was ready to hash things out between them.

Back in the kitchen, Wendy had made the last snip on Mabel's hair, and handed Mabel her phone with the front camera on. "Alright, dude, what do you think?"

Mabel gasped, she looked completely different. Her hair was cropped close to her face, her bangs curled up against her forehead, she looked like her mother, but she still looked like Mabel. "I… I love it!" She said, ripping the towel off her shoulders and hugging Wendy.

Wendy set the scissors down and wrapped her arms around Mabel tight. "Good! I told you I could fix it. Everyone is going to love your new haircut, I know it."

"You look great, Mabel." Stan said, putting an arm around her shoulder. "You feelin' better, kiddo?"

Mabel nodded and latched onto Stan. "Yeah, I am. Thank you, Grunkle Stan, you're the best." She nuzzled her head into Stan's side and squeezed him as tight as she could.

"Thanks, sweetie." Stan said, a big smile on his face. He hugged Mabel back as tight as he could without hurting her. "Dinner's almost ready, why don't you and Dipper go see if Ford and McGucket are coming to eat?"

"Okay! Come on, Dipper." Mabel said, grabbing Dipper's good arm and pulling him out of his chair. "Hey, feel the back of my neck it's so smooth!" Her voice trailed off as she and Dipper went to find their scientist uncles.

Stan set to straining the pasta and setting up plates for the six of them. "Wendy? I, uh, I wanted to thank you for doing all that today." He said.

Wendy got to sweeping up Mabel's hair from the kitchen floor. "Yeah, no problem, Mr. Pines. I'd do anything for Dipper and Mabel, you know that. Sometimes a little girl just needs another girl for stuff like this."

Stan put a hand on Wendy's shoulder. "I know… And, hey, thanks for teachin' me and Ford, too. If anything ever happened… to either of them, and we didn't know what to do? I'd never live with myself."

Wendy sighed and patted Stan's hand. "Don't sweat it. You would have figured it out eventually I'm sure... Who am I kidding, you're a wreck without me."

"Yeah, I know." Stan said, chuckling. "And, hey, I know I let you off the hook for skipping school today, but you really need to stay in school." He added. "I might just be an old high school dropout, but lemme tell ya, when they say getting jobs are easier when you've graduated with a diploma, they aren't kidding around."

Wendy leaned on her broom and looked down at the pile of hair on the floor. "Yeah, I know. But, sometimes its like, I'm not a genius, why should I even try? I pass and I fly under the radar, and that's enough for me. High school sucks."

"...Believe me, Wendy. I know exactly how you feel…" Stan said, retracting his arm. "But barely passing and flying under the radar didn't exactly work out for me, and I don't want to see it fail you, too." Stan took a deep breath, reminding himself that Manly Dan was a good man, that he'd never kick Wendy out on the streets, that she'd never drop out of school because of crippling homelessness. "Look, I've covered for you long enough, if I catch you playing hooky again, I'm calling your dad."

"Stan! That's totally unfair!"

"Wendy, if I was a law abiding man, I'd have called your dad the first time it happened or reported you for truancy. I appreciate you doing this today, I really do, but this is your future we're talking about. Look, if you really were the idiot you think you are, then I'd've never hired you. Please, just promise me you'll stay in school." He said, handing her a plate of spaghetti, and moving to set the others on the table.

Wendy huffed and looked at the spaghetti in her hands. Stan really did care about her, and he couldn't put up with her bullshit forever. "Yeah, Stan... I promise." She sat at the table with her plate and leaned back in her chair. Dipper and Mabel soon came back, dragging McGucket and Ford by their hands, and the family sat down to eat dinner.