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Chapter Text

“This all stops now!”

Dipper’s voice rang out over the whirr of machinery, the bright glow of the red button awaiting his hand. Mabel and Soos watched nervously at his sides, hunched against the surrounding din of catastrophe.

Just before he could make a move, the cry of a harried voice made the three of them swivel in unison toward the door.

“Don’t touch that button!” a huffing Stan Pines yelped through the doorway to the portal room.

A shocked absence of dialogue followed, the ticking countdown of the clock engulfing the cavernous space.

Arms extended, the old man made his way toward the lever. “Dipper, just back away! Please don’t touch that shutdown button, you gotta trust me–”

“And I should trust you WHY?” Dipper’s face furrowed in anger as he stepped away from the lever and toward his great uncle.

“After you stole radioactive waste? After you lied to us all summer? I don’t even know who you are!”

Stan’s eyes widened, pleading. “I know this all seems nuts, but I need that machine to stay on! If you’d just let me explain–”

An urgent beeping from the old man’s watch interrupted him. With a quick intake of breath, he hastily shot glances between the watch and his family. “Oh no,” he gasped, “brace yourselves–”

Before the words had even left his mouth, all four of them began to tug up from the ground, slipping away from one another in chaotic patterns while the screech of the opening portal filled the room.

“T MINUS 35 SECONDS” rang the countdown clock. Dipper found himself uncontrollably flung against the wall, clutching a support beam for dear life.

“Dipper!”

The boy frantically tore his eyes away from the wall at his sister’s terrified yelp. To his horror, Mabel was suspended dead-center in front of the yawning portal, a loop of cord around her ankle the only thing anchoring her to the ground below. Her wide eyes called out to him, begging for aid.

Heart racing, Dipper’s eyes followed cord around Mabel’s ankle to the shutdown button. He snapped his gaze back to his sister, bellowing out and jabbing a hand toward the lever below.

“Mabel, hurry! Shut it down!”

Seeing his plan, the girl hunched over to pull herself along the cord. She inched her way to the end, a small gap between the cord and the lever all that separated her from ending this chaos. Taking a deep breath, she gave one final tug on the cord to propel herself forward…

Abruptly, the portal tore open, a flood of bright light enveloping the room.

With dreadful alarm, Mabel felt herself being tugged backward, toward the yawning throat of the portal.

“Agh! No no no,” her fingers scrabbled for the lever, but slipped away after failing to grip. Her arms flung about madly, trying to grasp onto something, anything…

“Help! Dipper, Stan…” the girl’s cries were muffled by the tumult of the open maw behind her.

Dipper’s veins turned to ice as he saw his sister, kicking and flailing, slowly become engulfed by the glow of the portal.

“Mabel! Hold on!” the boy pleaded, launching himself with all his might toward the lever.

Time cruelly seemed to slow as his outreached hand clawed toward the shutdown button; with abject horror, Dipper caught the terrified eyes of his twin, her body rippling through the surface between dimensions.

Only the knife’s edge between seconds separated the contact of Dipper’s hand with the button from the final disappearance of his sister into thin air.

An ear-piercing horn sounded as the red button was depressed, and all around him fell the carnage of machinery and people, while the mouth of the portal blinked away into nonexistence.

For a brief moment, everything was still. Then, with a sickly groan, the bottom-most fulcrum of the triangular structure began to collapse to the left. The initial groan erupted into a chorus of implosion as the structure fell mercilessly to the ground.

Dipper crouched against this sudden chaos, covering his head with his arms as debris rained down around him.

As suddenly as it had began, the noise drained into silence.

The boy rose shakily to his feet, eyes glued to the jagged circle that mere moments ago had held the silhouette of his sister.

“Mabel, she’s…” his voice broke before he could continue, tears mingling with the dust on his face as they fell to the unwelcoming ground.

His sister was gone, swallowed by the portal.

Chapter Text

It felt as if the sky had swallowed her whole.

Rushing past Mabel’s face at incomprehensible speeds were foreign stars and constellations, with lights blinking unknown patterns, mocking and cavernous. With harsh severity the broken void erupted, discordant color engulfing her. Glowing eyes seemed to watch her from every direction, cackling and murmuring her name as she tumbled through the abyss…she tried to scream but no air escaped her burning lungs…

She screwed her eyes shut against the hellish scape, trying in vain to cover her ears against the sinister voices all around…

Very suddenly, the girl felt the temperature all around her plummet. A low keening became all Mabel could hear, a wretched sound filled with grief and sorrow and fright. Coming to her senses, she realized the source of the sound herself. She hastily clapped a hand over her mouth, shocked and unnerved.

Mustering her courage, she let her eyes flutter open. A sharp, crisp white surrounded her curled-up body; blinking against it, she realized it was snow.

But...it’s the middle of summer… the thought bolted, hare-like, through her mind.

Rolling up to a sitting position, she squinted as she took in her new surroundings.

It was an unforgiving and raw landscape, the white compacted snow contrasting unsettlingly against a strange, almost violet swirling sky. In the distance, craggy mountain peaks pierced their way through a scattering of spiny, needle-like trees.

And dwarfed by of all of it was a small, scared girl in a pink sweater.

Her head reeled from the scene around her, her thoughts flooding with images of Dipper and Stan and Soos floating haphazardly around the underground lab. Of Dipper flying toward the shutdown button, just a second too late, as the cool rippling surface engulfed her...

Heart beating rapidly, Mabel felt her breath catch in her throat as an increasing wave of fear lapped at her. A tear began to roll down her cheek, weaving a frozen path down toward her jaw.

“I...I have to look for help! There has to be someone…” she gasped in short breaths to herself. Scrambling to her feet, she took a step forward and felt her foot sink into snow up to her knee. Her wide eyes winced as the biting cold made contact with the bare skin of her legs; stomach dropping, she realized with growing dread how ill-equipped for this frosty landscape she truly was.

Teeth chattering, she bent down and wrenched up her socks as high as they could go, a meager attempt to keep out the cold. She could already feel her feet beginning to fall numb inside her shoes. She took one sinking step, followed by another, socks soaking through with chilly moisture within seconds.

Gathering herself, she carried on against the merciless cold, stopping every few feet to hike up the socks that were now constantly slipping their way down due to the weight of being damp. A fierce wind began to pick up as Mabel trekked her way along the edge of the spindly forest.

Time passed at an unknown rate, marked only by sinking footsteps and clouded breaths. Turning her head back, the girl found that she could no longer see where her tracks began; the wind had scoured away any evidence of her passage.

If no one sees my footprints, no one will even know I’m here! her thoughts spiraled in terror. Panicked, she rapidly took a different approach.

“Help!” she squeaked out, her throat raspy from the cold. Trying to be louder, she announced herself again as she continued forward. “Please help! I’m lost! I’m lost…”

She tried not to let her voice break as she persisted in her cries for help, tried not to let the full truth of the statement get to her. She was after all, truly and utterly, lost…

Just as she was inhaling to call out again, a muffled snap made her swivel her head in the direction of the forest beside her. Mabel felt her heart leap at the sound, at any sign that she was not alone.

“Hello?” she shrieked, stopping dead in her tracks. “Can you hear me? Please, I need your help!”

There came the sound of more branches breaking, of something or someone moving toward her through the thorny brambles. And then, a growing and unsettling silence…

“Hello?” Mabel’s voice croaked again, shakily. “I--”

She was cut off by the crashing sound of spiny branches being torn open in front of her, revealing a hulking mass of ragged gray fur and savage, glowing orange eyes. It appeared to be a wolf, but larger and more ferocious than any that could possibly originate on earth.

Mabel shrank back as the beast began to circle around her, staring her down with those sinister orange eyes. With each step it took, she noticed its sickeningly bladelike claws, and saw that a ridge of similar spikes ran down the creature’s spine, sharp and lethal.

The monstrosity paused several yards across from her, crouching down on its haunches. It’s eyes narrowed and the spines on its back began to rise as a threatening growl emanated from deep within its throat.

Heart pounding in her chest, Mabel felt her eyes search frantically all around her for an escape route, a weapon, anything…

The beast lifted its massive front claw forward as it began to stalk its way toward her.

Suddenly, it was like a switch flipped in her head; in the space of half a second, Mabel went from petrified with fear to racing at full speed in the opposite direction of the forest. Adrenaline flooded her veins as she tried with monumental effort to flee through the open, snow-covered expanse in front of her.

What little lead she had gained was rapidly diminishing; a fresh torrent of terror washed over her with each stumbling step she took, the snarls of the beast closing in quickly on her trail. Her exhausted and frozen legs burned with the effort of being dragged through snow, and the cold was making her limbs clumsy.

Her stomach dropped as she felt her leg tripped up by a particularly compact drift of snow, as she fell forward and down into a bank of white and found her legs unwilling to obey her commands to stand, to flee.

The wolf-creature was frighteningly near, it would be on her in seconds…

Just as the girl began to curl in against herself and squeeze her eyes shut against her impending doom, there came a series of flashes of red light, and the monster let loose an angered howl of pain.

Mabel opened her eyes and saw a figure, clad entirely in black and contrasting sharply against the snowy ground, hurtling its way across the expanse and toward her. One of the figure’s arms was outstretched, grasping what appeared to be a pistol of some kind.

The beast reared its head and gave an alien, animalistic screech as the pistol rained down red bursts of light against its pelt again, leaving sizzling patches in its fur.

With a gasp, Mabel realized that the figure was heading at full speed toward her, and that it did not stop once it reached her location. In a flurry of motion, she felt an arm close around her midsection and pluck her out of the snowbank. Swiftly, the girl was tucked close to the figure as they somersaulted lithely out of the path of the bloodthirsty creature.

They rolled to a halt, the figure setting her roughly down on what felt to be a mercilessly shallower tract of snow. With the encroaching sounds of the monster in front of them, the figure swung its scarf-covered face back to face the girl, its goggles reflecting Mabel’s terrified face back to her.

“Run! Get somewhere high, this creature can’t climb trees!” came a muffled man’s voice from under the black scarf, and without hesitation he swung around and sprinted back in the direction of the beast.

Mabel tried to force her battered legs into motion but failed, the cold and numb making them ignorant of her commands. Heart pumping furiously, she exerted every ounce of energy she had left into shuffling her way away from the combat ensuing behind her.

Swinging her head to catch a glimpse of the action, she saw that the figure was nimbly dancing his way around the creature, shooting with his pistol and leaping just out of the monster’s reach with every swipe of its claw. To Mabel’s horror she saw that the creature was apparently not satisfied with this engagement, and still trying to make its way in her direction, bloodlust filling its orange eyes.

She had stumbled away just a few feet more when she heard the man cry out in pain; turning around she just caught the sight of his gun being flung through the air, knocked from his outstretched hand by the needle-like claws of the creature.

The beast gave a chilling, almost human grin as it saw its window for victory. It turned its blazing orange gaze toward Mabel, eyes set on its prize.

“Agh! No!” Mable couldn’t help but shriek as she saw the beast begin to surge her way. She saw the black-clad figure try to intercept the monster’s path, but it was in vain; the wolf creature took a bounding leap and sailed over the man and toward the girl.

It landed with a heavy thud mere feet away, holding Mabel in its proud and sinister gaze, mocking her.  The girl watched frozen with terror as it sank down to its haunches, preparing to make the final, deadly leap…

A rumbling crack escaped the ground below the creature, halting it in its tracks. After a brief second of consideration, it stalked forward, further closing the gap.

No sooner had its claw reached the snowy surface than the ground seemed to split apart from under it. The surrounding surface splintered apart and gave way, revealing the icy black water just underneath.

Realizing its mistake, the creature sank down to bound away, the sudden shift of its weight delivering the final fissure to the icy surface. With a chilling howl, the wolf crashed through the broken ice and into the churning black current below.

Gasping and wide-eyed, Mabel stared into the jagged black hole in the surface just a couple feet away where her predator had stood moments ago. She swallowed quickly, and with a sudden exhale she raised her head to scan the area for the man in black.

She spotted him yards away, waving an arm in the air to gain her attention. Feeling a tiny, relieved ghost of a grin break across her face, the girl raised her hand to return the signal.

“Stay right there!” the figure shouted across the space, his hand outstretched. “Don’t move--”

Before he could finish, Mabel’s head dropped as she felt a small, resonant shift in the ground beneath her feet. Gasping at the sharp realization, she snapped her head up at the figure, wide eyes pleading.

The last sight she saw before plummeting below the ice was that of the figure sprinting toward her, hand outstretched...

Only icy blackness followed.

Chapter Text

The man skidded to a halt, heart pounding, as the small girl plummeted through the splintered ice mere feet ahead of him.

Breathing hard, he wrenched the goggles and scarf from his face as he took cautious but urgent steps toward where she’d fallen through. Red spatters of his blood were shaken from his wrist where the creature had struck him, leaving a speckled red trail against the ice below.

The man shuffled as close as he dared to the break in the surface, the thin ice groaning threateningly beneath his feet. His eyes darted back and forth, searching in hope of seeing a small hand or head bob up from the water below.

With a sinking sensation, he realized that the water below was flowing , and rapidly. The girl would not be in the same place she had fallen, but trapped under thicker ice further downstream!

Heart pounding, the man paused a fraction of a second to take note of how quickly the current was churning, and in which direction. His head swiveled to the left and he began to hurtle downstream, his mind rapidly working rough calculations as he made his way across the expanse.

Dread pooled in the man’s stomach as he became painfully aware of the seconds ticking by. He came sliding to a halt at his desired destination, quickly producing the reclaimed pistol from his coat pocket. Pressing it hard into the ice, he squeezed the trigger and quickly recoiled as a large, perfectly-round opening was melted away by the blast.

Lunging forward, he positioned himself at the far end of the gap, churning water lapping up over the edge of where he crouched. His heart pounded loudly against his ribs, each beat a threatening reminder of the passing seconds.

The man’s jaw clenched anxiously as he stared into the dark water in front of him; a small prickle of self-doubt echoed in his mind, whispering his fear that he had calculated incorrectly, that this was not the right spot, that he had doomed the girl.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath, eyes searching the inky abyss.

And then, a flicker of pale skin against the dark water. Reacting quickly, the man plunged his hands into the current. A solid figure was thrown against his outstretched arms by the rushing water, a bundle of waterlogged fabric brushing against his hands. His fingers seized the material and he pulled upward.

Water streamed from the girl as she was reeled up and out of the rushing pool, her long hair plastered to her face and shoulders. With a final heave, the man wrenched the girl out and onto the surface.

All the joy of his victory was immediately replaced by alarm as he saw that the girl remained limp and lifeless in front of him, her skin a frightening blueish color. Gently, he rolled her onto her side and began to deliver a series of claps to her back. After a few frightening seconds, the girl stirred and began to cough up water.

Relief flooded the man, followed by trepidation; the girl was alive, but not out of the woods just yet.

He continued to pat her back until she had coughed up all the water from her system, and then rolled her onto her back once more. Her eyes were only half_open and glazed over, obviously incoherent to anything she might be seeing. Lightly, the man pressed two fingers to her wrist for a pulse and leaned in to listen to her breathing. Both were shallow.

Pausing to squeeze what water he could from her clothes and hair, he quickly gathered up the small girl, standing upward as he positioned her in his arms.

The wind was beginning to howl even louder, and fresh flakes of snow gusted across the expanse with it. After adjusting the girl so that his coat covered her from the frigid wind, the man rapidly recovered his face with the goggles and scarf, and began his trek across the landscape ahead.

On he marched against the elements, the freezing air biting at his face through the scarf. He tugged his coat tighter around the helpless ward in his arms, continuing forward.

It had been a shock for the man to see another human out here, let alone a child. All signs had indicated this dimension to be devoid of humans, save himself of course. He had thought his mind must be playing tricks on him again when he’d heard the girl’s pleas for help echoing from over the hillside, and so remained cautious, stealthily skirting the edge of the forest to the origin of the sound. He had encountered creatures before who used such voice tactics as lures for their prey, and had seen many poor souls meet their ends that way.

Imagine his surprise, then, to have been met with the sight of the small human girl, in a pink sweater of all things, running for dear life from a fully grown spirewolfe. He knew she stood no chance of survival without his intervention, and so against all self-preservation instincts, had lept into the fray. But he also knew from his time in this dimension that spirewolves, once set on their intended target, did not give up pursuit of said target.

He had felt a brief spark of hope once initially removing the girl from the immediate attack zone and telling her to run. The pistol he had on him wasn’t terribly powerful, but a few well-aimed shots on the wolf might just do the trick. But alas, things had not gone according to plan.

The man mulled these and other thoughts over as he plodded through the ever-deepening snow, hunching his back in a vain effort to keep the girl as shielded from the elements as possible. The terrain became rougher and more rocky as he ventured on toward the mountainous landscape ahead. Taking careful but knowing steps, he made his way toward a rockpile at the base of a cliff.

Quickly shrugging out of his coat, he swiftly wrapped the girl in it as tightly as he could manage, and set her gingerly down under a tree. Sprinting ahead a few paces, he searched around until he found one boulder that was a slightly lighter color than the rest. Heaving, he pushed his shoulder into it until it gave way and began to roll, inch by inch, away, revealing the entrance to a narrow cave mouth.

Once the opening was wide enough, the man darted back to where he had left the girl. Taking a moment, he pulled back the fabric to check on her, and exhaled with relief as he saw the air cloud with her shallow breath. Scooping her back up, he navigated back to the cave opening, disappearing beyond the reach of the bitter wind.

_______________________________________________

The first sensation Mabel registered upon coming to was the return of warmth. The second was the soreness.

Everything ached, from her exhausted legs to her raw, ragged throat. Slowly but steadily, snippets of memory began to come back to her one by one: of the wolf, the mysterious man, falling through the ice…

The last, nebulous memory that came back to her was that of coughing up water and feeling her lungs once again fill with sweet air, accompanied by the feeling of something hitting her back. As she regained her clarity, she realized that the man in black must have rescued her from the deadly river.

Letting her thoughts carry her to the present, she took stock of her present situation. Slowly, Mabel let her eyes flutter open.

She was wrapped in many layers of what felt to be fabric and...animal furs? There were several pockets of warmth surrounding her; upon shifting her hand a bit under the layers, she came into contact with one of them. It felt hard and smooth, like a stone that had been heated.

The eerie howl of the wind whistling through cracks and crevices sounded nearby but muffled, as if she were shielded from a raging storm. The walls were rocky and shadows danced across them, cast by the light of a nearby fire.

Ignoring the protest of her sore muscles, the girl inclined her head toward this fire. Profiled against it was the crouching figure of the man, his back three quarters turned toward her. In the flickering light, she could see that he was busy inspecting what looked like a fresh wound on his wrist. Whether it was a trick of the light she could not tell, but it appeared that this injury was merely the latest on top of a pre-existing tapestry of scars that laced their way up his exposed forearm.

The harsh light of the fire stung Mabel’s eyes, and so she let them fall shut once more. Slowly, she began to stretch and contract each of her limbs under her cocoon of wrappings, finding that while sore, nothing seemed broken or really injured.

The sound of boots on gravel approached as the girl began to stir. Mabel sensed the presence of the man close to her now, and a soft, gentle voice began to speak above her.

“Please, be careful not to move too suddenly, you’ve been in shock,” murmured the man as he kneeled down beside her.

Forcing her eyes open again, the girl saw only the dark silhouette of him, as his body was blocking the light of the fire. As he shifted, though, his face became dimly illuminated.

Mabel felt her heart skip a beat and her eyes go wide. The man’s face...it was Stan’s!

This man with her great uncle’s face seemed to take her shock as fear; he drew back slightly and lifted his hands, keeping his expression soft and reassuring. “I know that this all must be very...scary for you, but I promise I have no intention of harming you,” his words spilled rapidly. He took a breath. “You’ve been out for some time now, recovering from the hypothermia…” he let his words hang in the air.

She continued to stare, baffled, at him, eyes growing even wider and mouth falling open.

Finally, she swallowed painfully, as if gathering herself to speak. The man leaned in slightly, his expression revealing he was eager to hear what she had to say.

A single, stumbling word escaped her.

“S-Stan?” her hoarse voice whispered.

The man’s expression quickly dissolved to pure, unrefined shock.

“ How- ” his stunned voice asked, “ -could you possibly know that name? ”

Chapter Text

Mabel gulped, heart pounding in her chest, as the man’s words hung in the air. With alarm, she saw his eyes take on a frenzied sheen as he began to rummage around in his coat pocket for something, all the while maintaining constant eye contact.

“I promise, I’m not going to hurt you,” his words came in a cautious monotone, “I only need you to let me see your eyes…”

Inching hesitantly closer, the man held above her head a small, bright flashlight. It only shone for a brief moment, and then clicked mercifully off. Eyes still adjusting from the glare, Mabel was unable to see the man’s face, but his next words were clearly more relaxed.

“Alright, perfectly normal. Can never be too sure…” he seemed to mumble to himself.

As soon as her eyes started to readjust, Mabel scrambled to sit upright. As the blankets fell from her, she couldn’t help but notice that something felt off with her movements...her head felt, lighter somehow. Reaching her hands up, she began to run her hands from her scalp down through her hair...only to feel her hands run empty as they reached just below her jawline.

“Augh!” She cried out in surprise and distress, continuing to wildly run her hands through her now-short hair as panic filled her.

The man winced. “I’m sorry about your hair...there was so much of it, and it wasn’t drying out fast enough...I was afraid that if it stayed wet for much longer it would only worsen your condition…”

And with that, the full realization of her situation seemed to hit the girl with maximum force. Tears began to stream down her face as she blindly struggled to free herself from her surrounding layers, sounds of distress bubbling to her lips.

A concerned look broke across the man’s face as he saw her struggling. He crouched down beside her and leaned forward, arms reaching out as if to spot her.

“Try to limit your movement, don’t cause any sudden changes in circulation! And please, keep wrapped up, you don’t want to lose -”

“Who are you?” her shaken and tearful voice cried out grievously, interrupting him. “And why do you have the same face as my uncle?”

Eyes going wide, the man inhaled sharply.

“Wait, your uncle ?? You mean to say, when you said ‘Stan’... your uncle is Stanley Pines ?”

Still sniffling, Mabel leaned her exhausted form against the cave wall, reorienting one of the blankets securely around herself.

“Well, technically he’s my great uncle, and I’m pretty sure his whole name is Stanford, but--”

“Stan ford ??” the man interrupted, bewildered.

“Yeah!” replied the girl, taken aback by his response. “But I mean, everyone just calls him Stan!”

The man sat in puzzled silence, his eyes darting back and forth as he processed this information. Once again, his eyes met Mabel’s, inquisitive.

“Which dimension are you here from?” he posed, eyes squinting with focus.

“I, uh, there’s more than one?” Mabel sqeaked in confused response.

The man’s brow furrowed as he thought through the implications of her answer. To himself, he started to mutter aloud his train of thought.

“Dimension 46’/ is one of the few that is almost completely unaware of the existence of the others. Could it be that…?”

Whipping his head back to face her, his eyes remained intent with the prospect of gaining information... and yet softer, as if he’d reminded himself that he was speaking to a lost and frightened child.

“I’m sorry, I just realized I haven’t had the chance to ask your name in all of this,” he spoke with the ghost of an apologetic grin.

Seeing the man’s small smile filled her with a feeble sort of comfort. Taking a shaky breath, she responded. “I’m Mabel, Mabel Pines. What’s your name?”

“Well, that’s the thing, Mabel,” he spoke, looking down at his hands for a moment before once again meeting her gaze. “ My name is Stanford Pines. In a far away dimension, the one I’m originally from, I have a twin brother, Stanley Pines…”

Mabel was left speechless with this information, her jaw dropping as she took in the news.

“But, then who does that make Grunkle Stan?” she sputtered, eyes brimming with dazed tears. She broke her gaze with the man, eyes searching aimlessly as she tried to think. They stopped as they fell on the man’s hands, catching for the first time something that was just slightly abnormal. Suddenly, it clicked.

“You have six fingers!” she burst out. “It’s just like the covers of the journals!”

“Hold on -- you’ve seen my journals?!” Stanford exclaimed, eyes widening.

The girl gasped, eyes lighting with realization. “You’re...you’re the Author!” Without hesitation, she rushed on. “My brother found one buried in the woods in Gravity Falls, and it had all sorts of supernatural nerd stuff written in it, and Grunkle Stan had all three of them in that secret basement behind the vending machine and--”

“Mabel,” the man interrupted, a foreboding look coming over his face. “You’re saying that you came here from a Gravity Falls, Oregon, that had three journals containing information on the supernatural, and a house with a secret laboratory in the basement?”

She nodded, once again speechless.

Stanford Pines exhaled slowly, as if a heavy truth had just been set on his shoulders.

“Just how did you get here? How did you get to this dimension, er, place, I mean?”

The girl took a deep breath and closed her eyes, as if trying to sort in her head all that she’d endured.

“My twin brother, Dipper, and I were staying in Gravity Falls with our Grunkle Stan, and we were just having a fun Saturday,” here her eyes went wistful. “and all of a sudden these government guys showed up and arrested Stan! They said he was trying to build a doomsday device…”

A silent tear rolled down her cheek as she turned to look at Stanford. “We didn’t believe them, Stan’s not a bad guy, not really…” she sniffed. “Or, at least we didn’t think so. But then we found a box with all of these fake IDs, and an old newspaper article that said Stan Pines was dead!”

The man sat silently as Mabel told her story, listened intently as she spoke of finding the hidden lab, of all three journals together on the desk, of the portal roaring to life.

“Dipper was just about to hit the shut-off button when Stan came running in and told him to stop, and then it was like someone had made the world into a snowglobe and turned it upside down,” she explained rapidly, mirroring the intensity of the scene. “Everyone was flying around, and the portal was right behind me…”

Staring off, Mabel spoke the final part slowly, as if she couldn’t quite believe it had truly happened. “I was floating in the air, and I tried to reach the shutdown button, but suddenly I was being pulled back and I couldn’t hold on to anything...and Dipper and Stan and Soos, they were all gone.”

Lifting her head, she saw that all the earnestness had melted from Stanford’s face, replaced by a jarring mixture of grief and fury.

He was silent for a few moments, obviously wrestling between emotions. Finally, spat under his breath, came his cutting words. “I can’t believe he’d do this...he blatantly ignored my instructions! He reactivated the damn thing and now look where it’s led!” He breathed heavily, seething with silent anger.

“Um, Stanford?” peeped Mabel’s quiet voice. His head jerked up at his name, his eyes shimmering with rage. The girl jerked back a little at his expression, and in response he tried his best to regain a neutral expression before answering.

“Yes?”

“What does it all mean? Why was there a secret laboratory in the basement? And how come I didn’t even know Grunkle Stan had a twin?” She took a deep breath, obviously on the verge of asking several more questions, stopped only by the shift in the man’s expression.

Stanford was now the one who looked somewhat wistful, his eyes glassing over as several years worth of memories seemed to flood over him. Breaking this trance, his eyes met Mabel’s once more.

“It deeply pains me to say,” he breathed, “that it appears we’ve been met with the same fate.”

Now it was Mabel’s turn to listen, transfixed, as the man spun his tale. Spellbound, she was all ears as Stanford spoke of his upbringing with his twin brother Stanley in New Jersey, about the days they’d spent together there as children. She hung onto every word he said, even as he spent an extensive amount of time explaining the details of a small boat they’d found and refurbished as youths.

“I suppose reality kicked in toward the end of high school,” mused the man. “There was a science fair, and I spent weeks working on my project, a perpetual motion machine. Night after night, I poured everything into it… it was my ticket to West Coast Tech, it meant that all my dreams were finally capable of being made real!” His eyes shone with pride at the memory, and then clouded over with indignation. “Stan had seen me working on it all those hours, he knew how much it meant to me, and the whole time would keep joking about how if it didn’t work out we could always sail around the world and hunt for treasure.” Here, Stanford gave a wry laugh. “Apparently, it wasn’t a joke for him. He sabotaged my invention, and with it all my chances of a great future. I was angry and hurt, of course, but our father…” for a brief moment, the man’s eyes seemed to flash with regret and...sorrow. But he quickly gritted his teeth and continued on. “Our father would have none of it. He kicked Stan out then and there, and that was the last I saw of him for over ten years.”

Stanford paused a moment before continuing.

“I did go to college, but I had to work extra hard to study the subjects that really mattered to me. When I was finished, I decided that I wanted to study anomalies, seeing as all my life I’d felt like one,” here he held up a hand and wiggled his six fingers, eyes squinting with the slightest of smiles. “I discovered that there was one place in the country that seemed to exhibit more strange occurrences than anywhere else, and that led me to--”

“To Gravity Falls,” Mabel breathed, fascinated.

“Very good,” Stanford smiled at her softly. “There I spent years researching the paranormal, keeping my findings in those journals. I determined that the supernatural instances must be filtering into our dimension from a weak spot in another, and so enlisted my college friend Fiddleford McGucket to help me construct a portal between the dimensions. We were successful, but when it came time to test it…” the man stared off, eyes filling regret. “Well, Fiddleford was temporarily exposed to what was on the other side. It shook him deep to his core, and he stormed away, refusing to work any more with it. Looking back, I should have followed his lead…”

“What was Stan doing, all the years you were in college and Gravity Falls?” Mabel interjected.

As if snapped from a trance, Stanford blinked a couple times before answering. “You know, I’m not completely sure...I know he would write our mother occasionally, I only ever heard tidbits secondhand from her…” Seeing the heartbroken expression creeping across Mabel’s face, he swallowed and continued on with his narrative.

“Some time passed and the true dangers of the portal began to dawn on me. I knew that if its power ever fell to the wrong hands, Earth would be doomed. The instructions were laid out in the three journals, and so I knew I had to separate and hide them. For the first time in years, I reached out to Stan, telling him to come to my lab so that I could give him Journal One and he could run away with it…” his eyes turned stormy at the memory. “Stan didn’t take well to the request. We fought, and by mistake the portal was activated then and there…” he paused.

Taking a shallow breath, he delivered the final piece of his story. “I was drawn into the portal, and deposited into a foreign dimension. That was thirty years ago.”

Turning to face the girl once again, his voice turned frosty. “From what you’ve told me of your story, it sounds like Stan stayed in Gravity Falls trying to reopen the portal, despite the journal’s warnings of the dangers involved. He must have faked his death and taken my name so that he could stay in the house, too. And now, because of his bad decisions, another member of his family is stranded.”

The man’s final sentence hung in the air like a leaden cloud.

Mabel fell back against the wall, head whirring with all that she had just heard. Grunkle Stan, the man she knew and loved, had been working on a portal under her and Dipper’s very feet without them realizing it. All to regain a brother he had lost decades ago. Suddenly, her heart leapt with a realization.

“Wait! If Stan was able to turn on the portal once, he’ll be able to do it again!” she blurted, a wild and hopeful grin sparking across her face. “And he has Dipper this time to help him! Together they’ll be able to turn on the portal and we’ll be able to go home!”

Her smile faltered as she registered the unbridled expression of pity and sadness on Stanford’s face.

“What, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“Mabel, you don’t understand...reopening the portal almost definitely means the end of our world, that is to say, the world we came from….”

Seeing her eyes still searching for his meaning, he sighed sorrowfully. “I’m sorry, Mabel. I’m so sorry. The hard truth is, that you and I are stuck here for good. We can never return.”

Hearing these words, Mabel felt as if the wind had been physically knocked from her.

“Stuck...here…” she whispered to herself, feeling a cold panic speed her heart. Stranded forever in a foreign world, unable to ever talk to or even see her brother again, her friends, her home…

Seeing the girl struggle to come to grips with the situation left Stanford feeling useless. He had no inkling of what he could possibly do or say to improve the situation, a strange scenario for him. Swallowing hard, he hesitantly reached out a hand and patted the girl’s back a couple times, in what he hoped came across as a gesture of compassion.

She immediately turned and fell against him, her small arms wrapping around him the best they could. Her unbridled tears fell into his coat as she was overcome with emotion. The man stiffened initially with surprise, and then gently let his arms fall around her in response. Gently, he raised a hand and began to smooth her hair in soft, regular motions, trying to mimic what his mother had done for him as a child when he was hurt or upset.

The two remained like that until the girl had cried herself into an exhausted sleep.

Worlds away, in the aftermath of catastrophe, Dipper Pines was reeling from the disappearance of his twin sister.

Chapter Text

Dipper stood shakily up, mouth agape as his eyes strained through the clouds of dust that billowed around the remains of the portal.

“M-Mabel…” his voice choked out. He took a trembling step forward, arm reaching out to where his sister had been mere moments ago, as if the action could somehow reach her.

Dipper remained facing the collapsed portal even as he heard the telltale clattering of a person making their way across the room. Before long, he felt the large hand of Soos on his shoulder. The two stood in stunned heartbreak, leaning into each other as they gazed upon the ruins.

Stan Pines witnessed this display from his position against the far wall. A metallic ringing became all he could hear as two images burned through his thoughts... the same scene cruelly played out thirty years apart. The worst deja-vu imaginable.

Two voices rang through his head now, echoing cries of a panicked man and a terrified young girl. Both pleas for his help, both left unanswered. Both his fault.

All his fault.

“What have I done,” the old man breathed, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. Hollowly, he made his way to the center of the room, toward the lever anchored there. Another strong wave of deja-vu crashed over him, this time laced with the bitter knowledge that he could pull this lever back and forth until the end of time, but it would not bring back the person he’d lost.

His knees went weak at the thought, forcing him to lean against the lever anyway in a display of cruel irony.

A handful of moments stretched on before any movement occurred. Slipping away from underneath Soos’ hand, Dipper turned slowly on his heel to face his great uncle.

The boy’s eyes looked slowly up through his disheveled hair, brimming with pain and loss.

“How could you do this, Stan?” he strained in a small voice. His eyes began to flash with anger and betrayal, his breathing ragged.

“ How could you! ” the boy’s voice rang out again as he charged in Stan’s direction.

Unprepared for the oncoming strike, Stan was knocked easily to the ground by the force of his nephew barreling into him. Before Dipper could do further damage, he was swept aside by the firm yet gentle arm of Soos. The handyman held the boy back, preventing any potential outburst, but the look devastation painted across Soos’ face revealed the extent of his betrayal.

Dipper continued to struggle against the grip as Stan rose, hunching defeatedly over a fallen piece of machinery.

“I...I let this happen again....It’s all because of me that they’re gone…” the man exhaled sharply with a choked half-sob, clutching his hand to his chest.

Dipper’s futile movements fell to a halt as he registered his uncle’s words. His pained eyes went wide.

“W-what do you mean, again ? And they ? Stan, you’ve got to tell us what’s happening!”

Stan took a few lurching breaths as he straightened his posture.

For the first time he looked into the eyes of his two family members, and felt something within him jarr at the betrayal he saw from both of them. Those eyes reflected back to him the entirety of the damage he had singlehandedly caused.

The boy’s sister was gone, and Dipper deserved answers.

A sick wave of dread and self-loathing rolled through Stan as he opened his mouth to recount his story.

“It...it all began a lifetime ago…” the words fell like bricks from the man’s mouth.

Bracing himself, Stan turned to look his nephew in the eye. “That journal you showed me some time ago...it was written by my twin brother, Ford.”

Dipper and Soos remained planted, motionless, as Stan spun the tale of his life. They remained engrossed as he spoke of his genius twin brother, of the dynamic duo they had been as children and through high school.

Stan’s eyes grew distant as he recounted the events of the science fair project that would have propelled his brother to greatness, of the accident that occurred but which he had been certain he had fixed. The ghost of old fear etched itself into his features as he recounted being thrown to the street by his father, fated for the next decade to fend for himself as he pursued failed plan after failed plan across the country.

“I was in New Mexico when I got a postcard from Ford, telling me to come to Gravity Falls as soon as I could.”  Stan paused, reliving the memory. “I was so hopeful to hear from him after all those years, I thought…” he blinked slowly, “I thought that maybe we could reconcile, ya know? So I drove up here, all through the night and through the snow. But Ford had changed. He was so paranoid...he dragged me down to this basement and told me to take his first journal and to get as far away from him as possible.”

Stan scrubbed a hand across his face, as if trying to scour the memory.

“I was so angry. Here I thought he wanted to make up after all these years, and now he was telling me to go away? I was so mad, I tried to burn the journal but Ford tackled me before I could, and we fought…”

His voice began to tremble as he reached the conclusion of his story. “The portal got turned on, and Ford got pushed into it...it swallowed him up before I could do anything. I tried to turn it back on, to get him back, but I only had the one journal’s instructions to work with, he’d hidden the other two…”

Taking a shaky breath, he ended his exposition. “I knew I had to get him back...I faked my death and took on his name so I could stay in his house, started the Mystery Shack to pay the bills. For thirty years, I’ve been working, night after night, to get the portal working again, to bring my brother back...but I’ve failed,” his voice broke.

“I’ve failed and now I’ve lost Mabel, too.”

Dipper stood silently, madly trying to process all this new information he’d just been allowed access to. His mind spun wildly with new questions, fitting together the new answers to old mysteries; he felt so many things at once, it seemed like he might explode.

But punctuating it all was the absence of his sister, and the devastating loss it tore through him.

His whirring mind suddenly clicked together a new assessment. Taking a firm step forward, the boy planted himself in front of his great uncle with resolve.

“You did all of this to save your brother,” Dipper spoke, eyes softening slightly as the full impact of his realization hit him. “You weren’t going to stop, you’d do anything it took...for your twin,”

Fresh tears streaming down his face, the boy forced his gaze up to meet Stan’s. “I think I would have done the same thing,” he whispered, overcome with emotion.

Stan’s jaw fell, shocked at his young nephew’s understanding.

The quiet moment was interrupted by the crashing sound of footsteps above; muted voices began to pour from the above house. The three of them jerked their heads up in unison, straining to better hear the commotion.

“Behind the vending machine, there’s a staircase! Trigger, get over here!” came a muffled command from the direction of the elevator.

Dipper’s eyes went wide as he connected the pieces. “It’s the government agents!” he cried, grabbing his chest in a panic.

“They’re back!”

Chapter Text

Mabel felt herself pulled from sleep by the distant chirps of unfamiliar birds. Rubbing her eyes, she groggily rose to a sitting position and blinked against the rays of light streaming through a large gap in the mouth of the cave.

A single blissful second passed before memories of the previous night came crashing sickeningly over her. She grasped a blanket tighter around her shoulders, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears that formed there. Taking a deep, shuddering breath she opened her eyes once more.

A horrified gasp escaped her as she realized that she was completely alone in the cave.

Her head jerked around, frenzied eyes madly searching the shallow cave interior for the man who had saved her life. The only evidence she could find was the ashy remnants of last night’s fire, now a mere heap of gray dust. Her pulse roared in her ears as a bubbling panic rose in her throat.

“Stanford!” a shrill shriek escaped her lungs, the outcry echoing off the cave walls.

A leaden moment of dreadful silence, followed by the crashing sound of boots on gravel as the sunlight was briefly blocked from the cave mouth.

Skidding deftly to a halt with his back to the girl, Stanford tensed into a defensive stance. There was an audible click as he brandished his pistol and aimed it in front of him.

“What is it, what’s in here?” his voice thundered, head swiveling rapidly as he scanned the room for danger.

Mind whirring, Mabel recoiled with surprise at this display. “Nothing, I-I woke up and you were gone!” she stammered.

Stanford’s head pricked up at her words and he froze for a brief second. Hesitantly, he let his arms fall back to his sides; looking back over his shoulder, he was confronted with the sight of the small girl pressed against the wall in distress.

He blinked in surprise at her words, taken aback by the notion that his absence had shaken her so greatly. When he’d heard her scream, his veins had flooded with adrenaline as an all-too-familiar fight or flight response took hold. He had sprinted in as fast as his legs would carry him, convinced from Mabel’s cry that some deadly creature had found its way into the cave while his back was turned.

A creeping feeling of guilt settled over him as he saw just how small and terrified Mabel appeared now. Turning around, he crouched down to her level and let his hand rest reassuringly on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Mabel...I wasn’t far, but I should have stopped to consider how frightening it would be for you to find yourself alone like that,” he spoke, sheepishly meeting her eyes.

She held his gaze momentarily before leaning forward to wrap her blanketed arms around his midsection. He found himself caught off guard by the action and stiffened initially at the desperate nature of her embrace. A fresh pang of self-reproach hit him as he processed just how much this girl needed him, and how stupid it was to have left her alone anyway, even momentarily.

Quickly pocketing the gun, he returned her embrace. He felt Mabel release a deep breath of relief, one that he hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Giving him one last squeeze, she pulled away and looked up at him, using a blanketed hand to dash the tears from her eyes. Thankfully, she now appeared much calmer.

“What were you doing outside?” she asked, a curious spark in her eye.

“Ah, I was scouting ahead and getting things ready,” he replied as he stood up. Offering out his hand, he helped her to a standing position as well.

“Ready for what?”  She found her footing on somewhat shaky legs, clutching her great uncle’s hand for balance.

“How strong are you feeling?” he asked genuinely, feeling her grip tugging on his as she stood. “Do you think you’re capable of walking outside? We’ve got some ground to cover, and not long to cover it…”  Seeing her inquisitive expression, he smiled gently. “I’ll explain on the way.”

After taking a few minutes to carefully stow away the various furs and blankets into a worn rucksack, they stepped in unison out the cave mouth. Stanford had left out the thickest blanket, securing it around Mabel’s shoulders as a makeshift coat.

Mabel blinked against the bright light of day as she stepped outside, drawing a quick breath as she took in the strange world around her. In the cloudless daylight, she saw that the sky was not blue but rather a pale lavender, like a perpetual sunset. There was still a substantial amount of snow on the ground, but the sharp winds had compressed and frozen it to the point that it could be walked on without sinking.

Stanford took a few quick steps away, stooping to sling the bag over one shoulder and a very large gun over the other. Making his way back to Mabel, he nodded in the direction of a nearby slope.

They began their trek, Mabel slipping her small hand into his six-fingered one as he launched into his explanation.

“That cave has been my temporary living space for a couple of weeks now,” he began. “I chose it because there’s an area nearby that has been showing signs of dimensional weakening.”

“Dimensional what?” Mabel panted, already winded from the little ground they’d covered.

“Weakening,” he repeated, slowing to a more suitable pace. “You see, in other dimensions from our own, weak spots occur and dissipate naturally, making it possible to dimension-hop. I’ve been monitoring such a spot for a while now, and it’s been showing signs of nearing peak travel potential. This is how I’ve been getting around for the past thirty years,” he continued.

“Woah,” Mabel marveled, awestruck at this information.

“Yes, it’s extremely fascinating! The downside is that these spots are only usually active for short amounts of time, and so we need to be there soon before we miss the window of opportunity…”

As he said this, he realized the extent to which the girl was over-exerting herself. Every few steps he’d feel a tug on his hand as she struggled to keep up or catch her breath. He paused to give her a break, but found it difficult to ignore his mounting anxiety as precious seconds ticked by.

The girl hunched over, hands on her knees as she struggled to steady her breathing.

“I’m sorry Stanford, I know that you said we need to move fast to make it in time…” she wheezed, shooting him a distraught glance. He winced at her apologetic tone; it wasn’t her fault that her situation had rendered her so physically weak.

Kneeling down, he offered her a reassuring smile. “Please, call me Ford,” he responded, hoping to convey that he wasn’t upset with her. “It’s to be expected that you’re not operating at one hundred percent, I understand,” he consoled.

He frowned as he noticed her legs trembling from the effort of the hike. “It’s probably not a good idea for you to keep pushing yourself at such a pace, though,” he mused aloud. With a firm determination, he twisted around and unlooped the large gun and bag from his shoulders, setting them briskly on the ground.

“Wait, are we stopping?” Mabel asked, puzzled.

“No, just rearranging,” Ford responded, looking back up from his supplies. “It is true that time is of the essence, and it’s also a good idea for you to give yourself a chance to recover...how do you feel about riding piggyback?”

The girl grinned in spite of herself, rising up from her bent stance. With help from her uncle, she angled her arms around his shoulders as he knotted the ends of her blanket in front of him. Slinging the gun and bag across his chest, he started off once again in earnest up the mountain slope.

They moved at a rapid pace; even with the added weight of Mabel, Ford continued to push on quickly, driven by the urgent threat of time.

The girl remained silent for a while, clearly lost in thought. As she took in the snowy world around them, a question dawned on her.

“Stanf- I mean, Ford?”

“Yes?”

“So if you’ve been going through different dimensions like you said earlier, was this not the first one you were dropped in?”

Ford halted for a moment to scan the rocky terrain, checking his bearings. Seeing a pale glacial lake in the distance, he oriented himself toward it and pushed onward.

“No, I initially found myself in a much different dimension…” his voice trailed off, as if lost in the memory.

Mabel gulped, working up the courage to pose her follow up question.

“So how come when I...went through...I ended up here in this place and not in the one where you first went?”

Ford took a moment before answering to carefully choose his words. “If...from what you told me, it appears that my brother was trying to bring me back to our home dimension,” he spoke slowly. “The portal was built to detect the user’s biosignature, so that anyone who entered could be located no matter what dimension they were in. When Stan activated it, the connection was made to this dimension simply because it’s where I was. It pinpointed my biosignature and operated accordingly.”

Mabel was quiet for a moment as she mulled this over; before her courage could dissipate, she asked the question that had truly been gnawing away at her.

“When you were talking last night…” she swallowed, “why did you say that it would be too dangerous for the portal to be opened again?”

He was thankful that she couldn’t see his face as it betrayed three decades worth of regret and anguish. Eyes staring forward, he answered.

“If anything spills back into our home dimension from the portal, a rift will form that would surely tear a hole between dimensions, ripping our universe apart.” He paused for a moment, inhaling slowly and thinking through his next words. “Since you were pulled through the portal before anything could come out of it, I don’t believe a rift could have formed. But if it’s reactivated once more…”

He let his words linger in the air, unwilling to complete the catastrophic scenario aloud.

“O-Oh,” Mabel stumbled out in response, trying to wrap her head once more around the situation.

A sober silence settled over the both of them as they trekked onto more barren and rocky landscape, punctuated by strings of eerie blue lakes every so often. Around them towered increasingly high sheer cliff faces, with a horned mountain peak materializing far ahead in the distance.

Up ahead in a looming cliff wall, shimmering ribbons of light seemed to ripple their way in and out of the rocky face. Leaning forward to get a better look, Mabel jabbed her arm forward past Ford’s face to point at the odd spectacle.

“Is that the spot we’re going to?” she exclaimed, wonderstruck.

“You’ve got it,” Ford answered with a grin, relieved to see that the area was still active.

As they drew nearer, Mabel began to feel her short hair stand on end with static electricity, and saw Ford’s begin to do the same. They came within a couple yards of the wall before halting.

Ford crouched down and loosened the knots of the blanket, allowing Mabel to slide freely to the ground. Setting his gun and bag down next to her, he took a few steps away, eyes scanning the ground purposefully. Spotting what he was searching for, he swiped a fist-sized stone from the ground and tossed it from hand to hand.

“The good news is that the spot is still active,” he explained over the crackling static sounds that filled the air. “What we don’t know is if the interdimensional connection is fully formed yet.”

Gripping the stone tightly in his right hand, he quickly wound up and pitched it with full force into the gleaming wall of rock. Turning on his heel, he immediately darted back to Mabel’s position a few feet away.

“If that rock comes spitting back out at us in a few seconds, it means that the connection isn’t formed yet,” he spoke quickly as he re-slung his items over his shoulder and onto his back.

Standing upright once again, he turned to face Mabel directly as he hurried through his explanation. “However, if nothing comes back out this side, it means that it went all the way through with no interference. From the looks of it, we got here just in time,”

Eyes darting between the cliff face and Mabel, Ford’s words spilled out still faster. “You can already feel the energy field surrounding the weak spot. When we go through, it might feel a little bit like receiving a slight electrical shock,”

Mabel’s eyes went wide with trepidation at this news.

“Does it hurt?” she asked in a small voice, shrinking back.

“Er, not always...” Ford answered, wincing at the girl’s frightened expression. “I’m fairly certain that this one won’t be too bad!”

Mabel’s inhaled sharply, unconvinced.

A tense few seconds passed with no sign of the stone returning.

“It’s time to go!” Ford proclaimed, nudging Mabel along with him toward the shimmering face of the cliff. Her hand desperately sought his, clutching on with all her might.

“Promise you won’t let go?” she pleaded, eyes finding his.

He gave her hand a squeeze and nodded. “You have my word.”

Hand in hand they stepped forward together, swallowed into the shimmering void.

Chapter Text

Mabel tumbled to new ground on unsteady legs, her arm held taught by Ford’s grip. Her hair still crackled with energy from the journey; the sensation of passing through dimensions had felt as if thousands of birthday balloons had all been brushed rapidly against her, building a static charge.

Ford had obviously better anticipated the arrival, landing deftly on his feet. Pausing a moment to help Mabel stand up, he let go of her hand as he patted through his coat and bag to ensure nothing was lost.

To her delight, Mabel took a deep breath and realized how much warmer the air of this place was. Stepping forward, she let the blanket around her shoulders slip to the ground, basking in the mild breeze that tousled her hair. Something on the ground caught her eye: the slate gray stone that Ford had pitched through the weak spot. Where it had blended into the jagged landscape before, it now contrasted starkly against a floor of sunbaked pebbles and straw-like grass.

Raising her eyes to survey the land, Mabel gasped in awe at the alien landscape stretched before her.

“Ford! Come and look at this!” she exclaimed, pointing a finger excitedly at the landscape.

Before them spanned a wide prairie scoured by sandstone badlands, the vivid tans and reds of the spires and gullies glowing ruddy in the sunlight. A dry, warm breeze rustled the scrubby grasses across the plain.

“A nice change in temperature from the last dimension, that’s for certain,” Ford chuckled, setting his hands on his hips as he took in the view. Without taking his eyes from the landscape, he pulled a small, canvas-bound bundle of paper from his bag. He thumbed his way through the pages until finding the one he was looking for. Peering over his arm, Mabel saw that it was filled with a peculiar diagram of circles interconnected by a web of lines. Procuring a pen, Ford delicately added in another circle and connected it to a pre-existing one, scribbling some cryptic shorthand within the newly drawn shape.

“Hey, you didn’t stop making journals!” Mabel exclaimed, bouncing on her toes to get a better look.

Ford gave a small grin, charmed by the girl’s enthusiasm. Kneeling down, he propped up the book so that she could see it.

“What do all the circles mean?” she posed, eyes eagerly scanning the page.

“It’s a makeshift map of all the dimensions I’ve been to and how they connect to each other. There have been instances where I’ve ended up in the same dimensions multiple times, but that were connected via different origins...I’ve spent years trying to see if there’s any sort of pattern, but for the most part it seems random. Nevertheless, always a good idea to collect data!”

After letting Mabel scan the page for a few more seconds, Ford snapped the book shut and stood up with resolve.

“Well, we’d better get a move on looking for a place to set up camp,” he declared, head swiveling as he observed the terrain. “Hm, the prairie makes it difficult for surprise attack, but the canyons make for difficult escape. Though they do provide a shield from the elements…” he muttered quickly under his breath. “Let’s head for those badlands,” he settled, shouldering his bag.

After packing away Mabel’s blanket, they set a course for the jagged sandstone spires. This environment was much more pleasant to hike; the flat ground and warm air felt nothing short of miraculous to Mabel after almost freezing to death in the previous dimension. Along the way, Ford procured from his pack a collection of dried berries and roots for them to eat while they walked; while the taste was nothing spectacular, Mabel was glad to feel the gradual return of some of her strength.

After years of traveling solo, Ford found it strange to now have a companion by his side at all times, especially one so small and vibrant as Mabel. As they journeyed throughout the day, he found that he couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiastic conversation and awed observations about this new world. Occasionally she would use some slang or make a reference he didn’t understand, which she would then provide a detailed explanation for.

“...and so then we find out that Leia is actually Luke’s TWIN SISTER! Which is cool but kinda gross when you think about how they kissed once in the other movie,” Mabel explained.

“So that means that Vader is HER father as well?” Ford exhorted.

“Yeah! Anyway, there’s this big epic fight at the end where Darth Vader almost lets the Emperor kill Luke but then turns good and saves him at the end, oh but Vader dies and turns into this ghost thing? And they’re all happy back on the ground and Han and Leia are in love and the Ewoks throw a big party!” she breathed, concluding her explanation.

“Wow, who knew I’d missed such a great ending! I think I once came across a creature like that... Ewok , was it? Not as nice as you make them seem.”

“Well you probably just scared it,” Mabel shrugged. “Leia was nice to one and they took care of her!”

As the sky dimmed into twilight, their footsteps began to crunch against gravel as the canyon rose around them. They found a small nook shielded on three sides by sheets of sandstone, which Ford declared an ideal campsite for the evening. Rolling out blankets on the pebbly ground, they each bid the other a quick goodnight, exhausted from the long day of walking.

__________________________________________________________________

Waddles was licking her hand endearingly as she sprawled, content, on the shag carpeting in front of the tv set. Dipper was leaned up next to her against the armchair, nose buried in the journal but looking up and laughing with her every few seconds at the pig’s actions.

“Hey kids, who wants breakfast at the diner today?” called a familiar voice from across the house. She exchanged an excited look with her brother and quickly rolled up and onto her feet. Dipper raced for the front door, letting it slam shut behind him.

Before she could reach for the handle, a dreadful tugging sensation took over, dragging her slowly back from the doorway. She struggled with all her might against it, fingers scrabbling for something, anything to hold onto. Shooting a desperate glance over her shoulder, she cried out, faced with the looming maw of the portal. An airless screech escaped her as she was heaved backwards, the world she knew growing smaller and fading away before her eyes…

“Augh!” Mabel awoke with a choked gasp. Two rivulets of tears streamed silently down her face as she sat upright, the imagery of her dream imprinted glaringly in her mind. She held her breath against a sob as she remembered Dipper and Waddles and Stan, and how perfect everything had been before catapulting into a nightmare. Her heart ached as she wept for the family who had been lost to her.

As she slowly regained tentative control of her breathing, a rustling nearby made Mabel jump. By the dim light of two full moons overhead, she strained her eyes to find the source of the sound...it was coming from where Ford was sleeping. Staring intently, she jerked back once more as he fitfully tossed and turned in his sleep, muffled sounds of distress escaping him.

Without warning, Ford shot bolt upright. He took heaving breaths, clapping one hand to his mouth while the other clutched at his heart. After a moment he seemed to regain some sense of where he was, and his whole body shuddered as he slumped forward, abandoning the rigid posture.

After scrubbing a hand over his eyes beneath his glasses, saw with surprise that Mabel was also awake and upright in her bedroll a few feet from him. A wash of shame and embarrassment flooded his features at the realization that she had witnessed him in this vulnerable state.

Wordlessly, the girl shook off her own blankets and shuffled over to where Ford was still sitting upright. He didn’t flinch when she leaned gently against him.

“Did you have a nightmare?” she whispered, not unkindly.

He took a ragged gulp.

“Something like that, yes.”

They both leaned back against the pocked sandstone wall, Mabel curling up against Ford’s side. After waiting to let him regain control of his breathing, Mabel spoke again.

“Hey Ford? What do you miss about home?”

He was taken aback by the wistful nature of her question, by the longing in her voice. Taking a moment to consider, he answered.

“Well, coffee, for one thing,” he responded with a wry ghost of a laugh. “Back when I was doing research I must have been having, what, four or five cups a night to stay awake. And I suppose I miss seeing films, like the one we were talking about today. And there was this board game I used to be quite fond of…” he trailed off, lost in memories.

Mabel’s pause lasted so long that Ford was sure she had fallen asleep next to him, and so her next words came as a surprise.

“...do you ever miss Stan?”

He reeled at this question, at the upfront nature of it. A pang of heartbreak washed through him as he realized what had most likely prompted the matter.

“You’re probably missing your brother pretty hard, aren’t you?” he spoke softly.

He felt her head nod sleepily beside him.

He drew a long breath. Almost to himself, he whispered, “To tell the truth, sometimes I think I miss everything about home, Mabel.”

Bracing himself in preparation for whatever she might ask next, it almost escaped his notice that the girl had drifted off to sleep, nestled right there against his side. He smiled in spite of himself, gently bringing a blanket up and draping it over her sleeping form.

He leaned his head back against the wall, reflecting on the unexpected comfort he found in having the girl beside him. He shuddered to think what might have become of her had he not been there when she’d encountered the wolf.

A prickling sense of panic rose in his throat as he thought through all the dangers of living this sort of nomadic lifestyle, of all the scrapes he’d gotten into over the years. Absentmindedly, he traced his fingers along the various scars and lesions that puckered his skin, souvenirs of various interdimensional struggles. His heart began to race as he thought back on all the times he’d found himself nearly starving, or injured, or confronting strange and malicious beings. Not to mention the intervals he’d been struck ill, or instances when he’d narrowly escaped enemy capture. There were times he could hardly manage to take care of himself...how could he possibly ensure that these or worse fates wouldn’t befall the poor, sweet girl asleep next to him?

His frenzied thoughts raced with the hundreds of ways Mabel could come to harm while in his care, of all the ways he could fail to protect her. Or what if something happened to him, as it so often almost had, and she was left alone to fend for herself in hostile worlds? What chance did she stand?

He was snapped from this spiraling train of thought as the girl shifted sleepily beside him, curling more tightly in against his arm. His frenzied eyes softened; being careful not to wake her, he repositioned his arm so that it wrapped protectively around her small shoulders, pulling her in close. In the feeble light of distant moons, a firm resolve took grip as he silently vowed to do everything in his power to take care of Mabel. An empowering sort of peace settled over him at this resolution; leaning his head back against the wall, he fell more soundly asleep there than he had in years.

____________________________________________________________

Mabel blinked against the morning sunlight streaming into their small camp. Rubbing her eyes, she looked up to find Ford packing away supplies.

“Oh good, you’re up!” he said, glancing up from the bag. “I didn’t want to wake you too soon, but it’s probably time we got moving.”

She nodded, still a bit groggy, and began to dutifully roll up the few remaining blankets. Once they were sure that everything had been accounted for, they set off further into the labyrinthine canyon.

The sun was warm on their backs as they trekked. Every so often, a stiff breeze would kick up vortices of dust, as well as tussle Mabel’s cropped hair into her face.

“Ugh,” she groaned, once again swiping loose hair from her eyes. “I swear I had a headband on at one point…” she speculated.

“It must have come loose when you fell through the ice,” Ford remarked apologetically.

She sighed sullenly, blowing another strand from her face.

As the morning passed, the canyon walls sank gradually into smaller washouts, until finally they emerged out onto flat prairie once again. Mabel turned her head to get a last look at the alien gorge they’d just traversed, when her eye was caught by markings on the sandstone walls.

Tugging on Ford’s coat, she pointed over to what she’d noticed.

“Ford look! It’s like cave paintings or something!”

Swiveling his head first down at her and then over his shoulder, he turned around to get a better look. They decided on a quick detour, heading toward the rock face. As the marks came into better view, it was clear that they were a series of carved glyphs, ranging from simple symbols to complex linework figures. Ford’s eyebrows shot up with recognition as they approached; he quickly dug the journal from his interior coat pocket.

Mabel walked up to the wall, tracing the lower carvings with her hand. “What do they all mean? Some of them are really pretty!”

“They’re a kind of calling card,” Ford replied from a few feet away, flipping distractedly through pages. “They mean that we’re not alone in this dimension...it’s typical to see something like this nearby a marketplace or bazaar, where beings from several different dimensions gather. Each symbol indicates individuals or groups who have passed through.”

Mabel continued to admire the glyphs as Ford recorded the ones he didn’t recognize in his journal. She walked along the length of the wall, running her hands over the collection of symbols. Upon passing a small, untouched spot in the rock, she grinned as an idea formed in her head.

Ford’s glance darted up from his latest inscriptions to scan the wall for more symbols, but his eyes were instead drawn to the right, where Mabel was hard at work scraping a shape into the rock. Intrigued, he made his way to her side, peering over her shoulder to see her work.

At the sound of his approach, Mabel turned around, beaming with a satisfied grin. Gesturing to her handiwork, she announced, “well I figured I’ve gone between dimensions two times now, so I can count myself as a traveller!” In the wall next to her stood her shallow carving, an icon of a shooting star.

Ford couldn’t help but smile at how pleased she was with her work. Kneeling down, he flipped out a pocket knife and inscribed a symbol of his own in the space next to hers: a six fingered hand.

“Now we’re a pair,” he said as he stood, grinning warmly down at her. She returned the smile, grabbing onto his hand as she turned to admire their work.

As they finally left the glyphs behind and turned to the open prairie, they noticed several small plumes of smoke trailing into the sky above the nearby horizon.

“Ah, that must be a settlement, then,” Ford remarked, noting a worn path leading to the area. He glanced down at the girl, whose hand was still securely gripping his. “With luck, it probably has a market; we could stand to get you some more sturdy travelling gear.”

It didn’t take long to traverse the flatter ground, and before long Mabel found herself in an environment more peculiar than any she’d been in before. She clutched Ford’s hand tighter as they entered a sprawling bazaar, overcome by the flood of alien sounds and the cacophony of different scents. Around each new corner stretched wide lanes and narrow alleys, all lined with colorful stalls and vendor booths.

As they wove their way through packed streets, Mabel’s mouth fell agape at the sheer variety of beings shuffling their way through the market. Everywhere she looked she found new exotic creatures, from giant rodent-like beings, to lanky tripeds and quadrupeds, and even a human-sized butterfly person with colorful gossamer wings. Some looked vaguely humanoid, but most resembled nothing she had ever imagined could exist. She found the setting both marvelous and somewhat hair-raising, and so clung closely to her uncle.

Ford moved with deft experience through the bazaar, eyes expertly peeled for useful goods. He maneuvered her carefully to a group of vendors that resembled human beings in proportion if not color and texture; under the cloth roof of the stand stood a group of scaly-skinned blue beings, spindly, yet humanoid.

“Ah perfect, just what we need!” Ford exclaimed as he scanned the stall’s collection of garments. He shot a glance at Mabel, sizing up her proportions. “Hm, you’ll certainly need a sturdy coat, you’ve seen for yourself that not all places are as warm as this one…” he thought aloud. “And quite frankly it’s sheer luck that those shoes have lasted this far, some boots are definitely in order…”

After a rapid exchange of pointing and bartering between Ford and the gangling blue person inside the stand, Mabel found herself the proud owner of a wardrobe more fit for nomadic life. Her new items included a set of sturdy boots, warm black leggings, and a long coat that fell to her knees.

“Nice!” she exclaimed, shrugging into the coat and twisting to get a look at herself. “Hey, I feel like one of those guys in the Matrix!” she beamed with the realization. Ford chuckled at her enthusiasm, even if he didn’t understand the reference.

“Oh! Before I forget!” he quickly turned back to the stand and briskly haggled with the merchant once more while Mabel stood patiently by his side. Receiving a final article from the vendor, he sheepishly extended it to the girl.

“I know that you were saying that you used to have something to hold your hair back, and that you’ve recently had to deal with it falling in your face quite constantly,” he explained, somewhat embarrassed. In his hand was a neatly folded bandana, its color so deep violet that it was almost black. “I was thinking that maybe this could do the trick?”

Mabel’s eyes lit up at the gift; quickly folding it, she soon had it tied in the place of a headband, revelling in the sensation of a face unburdened by falling hair.

“I love it! Ah thank you Ford!” she squealed, throwing herself forward to embrace him.

Arms still around him, Mabel’s was startled to see that from across the swarming bazaar, a sinewy being was staring at her, a scheming glint in its beady black eyes.

Ford felt her recoil and pulled back to look at her, concern painting his features.

“What’s the matter?”

“Oh, it’s- there’s this creepy monster thing that I thought was staring at me from all the way across the street,” Mabel stumbled. “It’s right over there-” she continued, stopping mid-phrase as she realized the being had vanished from the crowded lane.

Looking behind his shoulder for a moment, Ford turned back to her somewhat relieved. “I’m sure it was nothing...places like these can take some getting used to,” he said, taking her hand once more as they moved further into the teeming market.

They passed by from booth to booth, admiring the exotic goods and unusual novelties that each vendor advertised. It was as they passed a metals merchant that Mabel caught sight of the sinewy creature again, this time much closer and peering intently at them from behind a nearby stall. As inconspicuously as she could, the girl leaned in toward Ford and spoke to him in a small voice, “There’s that creepy stalker guy again,” nodding her head in the creature’s direction.

After a discreet glance over his shoulder, Ford shot an alarmed look down at the girl and gripped her hand tighter.

“ It’s a Collector ,” he breathed, eyes wide. Thoughts racing, his eyes darted around the crowded market, realizing with dread that he had not once today seen other true humans like himself and Mabel, that they were the only ones of their kind in this entire place.

“A what?” Mabel asked, nervously mirroring her uncle’s hushed tone.

In clipped and rapid words, Ford explained:

“A Collector . Across the multiverse there’s a nefarious underground trade of beings from other dimensions...the Collectors are the ones who capture and sell ‘rare’ beings to the highest bidder…” Throwing another quick glance behind him, he continued. “You said he was watching us earlier...we’re the only human beings I’ve seen today, and I fear he’s sizing us up for capture.”

Mabel shrank closer to him, horrified at this expository. “What do we do?” she choked, terrified.

“Mabel, listen to me closely,” he muttered. “We need to get away from here without giving away that we know he’s following, otherwise he’ll give chase. We’ll try to lose him in the crowds.”

Heart pounding against her ribs, Mabel clutched Ford’s hand desperately as they attempted a nonchalant stroll away, moving into the heart of the crowd. Eyes wide, she dared a glance back and yelped at the sight of the Collector bolting nimbly toward them.

“Run!” thundered Ford at her cry, dragging her along with him as he shoved between the crowds of beings. Dashing between booths and alleyways, Mabel’s blood roared in her ears at the sounds of their pursuer hot on their heels.

Without warning, Ford ducked into a narrow sidestreet, yanking the girl along with him. Breathing hard, he spotted hardly-noticeable alleyway shrouded by curtains and blocked by carts. Without hesitation, he plucked Mabel from the ground and stashed her small form into the hiding place.

“Stay hidden!” he implored with a hissed whisper, spinning around before she had the chance to answer.

Straining to see through the moving legs of pedestrians and the fixtures in front of her hideaway, Mabel watched petrified as her uncle ducked between the crowds. She gasped, helpless, as she saw the Collector storm Ford’s position in the center of the street. The crowd parted around the two as Ford drew and aimed the pistol at his pursuer, cold concentration hardening his features. A red streak filled the alleyway as Ford pulled the trigger, but in the space of a single instant Mabel watched, frozen, as the Collector dodged the blast and kicked the gun from Ford’s hand in one swift motion.

A sinister triumph filled it’s beady eyes as it landed a targeted blow to the temple of Stanford Pines, crashing him to the ground.

Chapter Text

The three of them spun around at the crashing of two sets of footsteps from the staircase above.

“The government guys!” Soos cried out, eyes wide. “What do we do?”

Dipper’s mind reeled, adrenaline spilling through his veins once again. He swivelled around, looking for something, anything they could use or do to aid the situation, but saw only mechanical wreckage through still-falling dust.

Frantically, he took a step back and tripped over one of the large floor drums. His arms scrambled for something to hold onto to break the fall, swiping into his discarded backpack in the process. With a snap, the clasp came open, spilling the contents across the floor.

Dipper’s hand flew up to his chest as panic started to set in. Breathing hard, he tried to focus his gaze straight ahead, tried to regain some sense of control. His eyes fell on the toppled pile of his possessions, a wild gleam sparking into them as an idea took hold.

Lunging shakily forward, the boy fell to his knees as he clawed through the backpack, fishing out a large and clunky object.

Stan stared on at his nephew in a daze as Dipper hastily lifted what looked to be some kind of gun with a funky lightbulb at the end. Before he could open his mouth to ask questions, the boy launched into frenzied speech.

“I know it sounds crazy, but this is a memory gun!” Dipper cried, his hand busily clicking the side dial back and forth.

“Aw dude, great idea!” Soos exclaimed, his face beaming with recognition of the object. Stan’s eyes darted between the two of them, increasingly bewildered.

“Wait, memory gun, what did you-”

“No time to explain!” Dipper shrieked, locking the dial into a final setting and leaping forward.

A crash clamored from the stairwell above, further punctuating his statement. The boy bolted for the door into the portal room annex and planted himself squarely in front of the elevator, gun outstretched.

“Kid, what’re you doing?” Stan cried, hastily navigating wreckage to reach his nephew.

“Grunkle Stan, I need you to trust me,” Dipper’s eyes lifted temporarily up to him, pleading and frantic. “This gun can wipe people’s memories, so when the agents come through that door I need to be able to get an aim at them,” his words spilled.

There was a long moment where Stan could do nothing but stare down at the frantic boy, the sounds of the descending agents filling the room as the seconds ticked by. Finally, the man stepped back, a resigned look in his eye.

“Just…” the word hung in the air as Stan’s exhausted mind tried to form exactly what he wanted to say. “Be careful, kid,” was all he could manage.

They all jumped back in unison as the light above the elevator doors flicked to life, indicating its approach. Heart pounding in his throat, Dipper locked his elbows in a vain attempt to steady the gun, pointed dead ahead in anticipation of the coming invasion.

One second ticked by, two…

With a metallic screech, the doors were wrenched open by a pair of black suited arms. The adamant faces of agents Powers and Trigger became visible, their expressions alighting in victory at the sight of Stan.

“Stanford Pines! We’ve-”

The words of agent Powers were cut short by a blazing blast of light hitting him between the eyes. Flabbergasted, his partner wrenched his gaze to the source, eyes going wide as the same fate befell him.

Stan’s breath halted in his throat as his eyes darted between the agents, now staring ahead befuddled, and his nephew who had shot them. The boy now took a shaky step back, his arms trembling. He shot a harried glance up at his great uncle as hoarse words tumbled from his mouth.

“They shouldn’t remember anything about why they’re here now,” Dipper hissed, eyes wide. “We need to make something up to get them to go away!”

Make something up . Stan would have grinned if the circumstances weren’t so dire. Slipping into the sly and charming persona he’d expertly developed over the years, he straightened his back and strolled to the elevator where the agents were now glancing around, confused.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, I thought you said you were finished here!” Stan practically sang, wedging himself in front of them as he squeezed into the elevator. He needed to cut off all sight of the lab, but just before he could punch the elevator button, Dipper slipped through the doors, shooting Soos an apologetic look.

“Finished...here?” Stumbled agent Powers as the elevator began its ascent.

“Yes! Something about how you’d had the wrong lead all along, how the evidence actually pointed to a similar front, that Upside-Down Town place further north or something.” Stan briefly reflected for a moment on how easily the lies were coming, despite the storm of emotions raging within him.

The door whooshed open and Stan quickly ushered the two agents through the vending machine doorway, shutting it swiftly behind them.

“Yeah you guys were pretty embarrassed to have followed the wrong lead this far, and came downstairs to apologize personally! Hey hey, we all make mistakes pal! What’d you think of the elevator, by the way, creepy enough for you? Working on a new haunted house attraction, really gonna scare the socks off the kiddos!”

The two suited men stood, glazed eyes blinking widely at each other. Finally, agent Powers seemed to give his head a little shake and stepped forward.

“Of, of course, Mr… I’m sorry, I seem to have forgotten your name,” he mumbled. “It is quite clear now that this is a dead end...a tourist trap of all places, what were we thinking?” He spat, kicking at a fallen snowglobe on the ground with disgust.

“Yeah, you said that you were about to get rid of all the files on this case!” Dipper’s voice suddenly piped up from beside Stan. Stan’s heart pounded as he strained to keep the innocent smile on his face. What did the kid think he was doing?

“We have a shredder here in the Mystery Shack,” the boy continued, the cracks in his voice coming off as eager rather than nervous. “It’s right behind the counter here if you want to do it now!”

Powers glanced at Trigger and shrugged, retrieving something from his pocket. “Yes, I suppose all this ‘evidence’ is useless now. Better get rid of it now before we embarrass ourselves further.” Extending his hand to Dipper, he held out a small black flash drive.

“Shred it quick before the Special Ops guys see,” Trigger muttered sheepishly.

The boy swiped it and darted behind the cashier counter. There was a quick whirr and crackle as the drive became obliterated by the shredder. Dipper leapt back into place beside his uncle, barely-hidden relief painting his features.

With a defeated sigh, Powers turned toward the exit. Almost as an afterthought, his head swivelled back to Stan and Dipper as he reached for the door.

“Again, we apologize for the inconvenience. We’ll be sure to leave this place alone in the future.”

The two Pines stood rooted to the ground as they heard the muffled voice of agent Powers from the front lawn ordering away his counterparts. “This case is scrapped! Back to Washington!”

The rumble of government vehicles scraping away from the lawn filled the air for a few minutes, followed by eerie silence.

Stan and Dipper remained still, as if they couldn’t believe the plan had actually worked. Finally they were shaken from their shock by the creak of the vending machine door swinging open, Soos’ head peaking out timidly from it.

“Are they gone? Did the memory gun work?”

Dipper’s shoulders sagged with relief and exhaustion. “Yeah Soos, it worked, they’re gone.”

The three stood in the trashed gift shop, taking in the wreckage with weariness. “Today really did a number on this place, huh?” Stan posed wearily. “We’d better take a look around, make sure nothing’s totally ruined.”

“Yeah, I’ll go check upstairs,” Dipper responded, the adrenaline quickly fading. Before anyone could stop him, he made his way to the stairs and up to the attic. With each climbing step he took, his weariness and exhaustion seemed to double. It was almost impossible to believe that this morning had started off so brightly, with Mabel waking him up to see the hidden fireworks--

He shut down the thought immediately, afraid of the rapid surge of emotion the memory spurred within him. Gulping and taking a deep breath, he gently pushed open the attic door.

The room was miraculously still intact for the most part, the only real difference being a line of police tape strung between the two beds. Frowning, Dipper walked over to Mabel’s bedpost and began untying it, when a snuffling noise at his ankle made him pause.

“Waddles! You’re okay!” Dipper exclaimed, kneeling to the ground to hug the pig hiding under the bed. The animal gave his face a wet lick, then turned its head back and forth, searching the room. Shuffling away from the boy, Waddles began to poke around in different corners of the room, head tilted with curious anticipation. After a few moments of finding nothing, he planted himself at the foot of Mabel’s bed, a confused and sad glint in his eyes.

Waddles gave a quiet, questioning oink , looking up at the bed and back at Dipper. The boy stumbled back into his sister’s bed and desperately gripped the sides, his anguish finally surfacing.

“Stop looking for her, Waddles, she’s not here,” his voice spilled. The animal shuffled over to him, jumping up onto the bed. Once again the pig’s head swivelled to the door and back over to Dipper.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said she’s not coming!” Dipper cried out hoarsely, tears spilling down his face. Unbridled flashes of his sister vanishing into the abyss flooded his head, her terrified voice filling his ears.

“Mabel’s gone,” Dipper whimpered, wrapping his small arms desperately around his sister’s pet. His tears fell uninhibited now as he let the wave of sorrow and heartache crash over him, as the full impact of the day’s events hit him like a sucker punch.

Falling to his side, Dipper clung close to Waddles as he sobbed into the pillow. Exhausted and tearstained, he welcomed the black nothingness of sleep as it enveloped him.

Chapter Text

Mabel clasped her hands over her mouth to bury her scream as she saw Ford crash to the ground, his gun skittering from his hand. The crowd continued to part around the scene, fearfully avoiding the Collector as he circled Ford, his boots kicking up puffs of dust as he treaded.

For a moment Ford struggled to rise, feebly lifting his head and pushing himself up onto his elbows. The blow to his temple had been effective, though, and with a shudder he collapsed back to the ground, where he remained still.

Mabel kept her hands cupped over her mouth to quiet her panicked breathing as she witnessed all this. Cold fear spiked in her stomach as she saw from a distance the Collector’s head swivel around rapidly, his frustration obviously growing as he turned back and forth to scan the area for her. Gulping, the girl scurried her way to the dead end of the shallow alleyway, desperately pressing herself flat against the wall to avoid being seen. Her heart pounded, the pulse roaring in her ears as she became achingly aware of how trapped she was in this space, of how she still had a full view of her pursuer from the back of the nook.

She watched as the Collector finally spun, shoulders drawn in vexation, back toward her fallen great uncle. Passing the dropped gun, he quickly stooped to retrieve it, pocketing the weapon with sneering eyes.

Ford’s head fell listlessly forward as the sinister creature planted its hands under his arms and began to drag him away with apparent ease. What remained of the crowd hastily shuffled out of the Collector’s path, quickly filling in the vacuum left in his wake and, to Mabel’s escalating horror, obscuring all view of Ford.

An icy grip of terror took hold of Mabel as tears spilled down her face, her fingernails digging into her coat sleeves with panic. Falling against the dusty wall of her hideaway, she curled into a meager ball as she struggled to contain the whorl of hysteric fear building within her.

“Oh, Ford...” she choked out through buried sobs, squeezing her eyes shut against the image of her uncle being dragged off like some hunted animal.

The bustling crowds continued to go about their business, unaware of the small frightened girl crying to herself within the very walls, completely alone.

_______________________________________________________________

The first feeling Stanford Pines registered as he came to was the ragged, thumping pain just above his left ear. Eyes smarting open, he was overwhelmed with initial disorientation as he took in his surroundings: a dimly-lit box of a room. Dirty light filtered in through a cinderblock-sized barred window high in the wall he was slumped against. The opposite wall was mostly featureless save for a narrow doorway in the corner, thick metal bars running from floor to ceiling. He shifted wearily against the wall, frowning as he moved.

Ford attempted to reach a hand up to his throbbing skull, drawing in a sharp breath as he saw with alarm that his wrists were bound in front of him by heavy handcuffs. He reeled back in alarm as jagged memories flashed through his mind. Fleeing through crowded streets from a menacing pursuer… a small hand clutching frantically to his own…  the fear in Mabel’s eyes as he urged her to stay hidden…

Mabel!

He sat up rigidly, ignoring the spike of pain in his skull. Straining his eyes to see in the weak light, he frantically searched the room for any sign that the girl had met his same fate.

The shadow of a figure appeared at the barred doorway, tall and broad-shouldered. Adrenaline spiked through Ford’s veins as the bars creaked open and the Collector entered the cell, melting away from the shadows and manifesting in the thin beam of light.

Up close the Collector was even more chilling than he’d been at a distance. His skin was the harsh purple-red of an angry bruise, with a sinewy texture not dissimilar to muscle tissue. His hulking yet nimble frame was clad in fitted black garments, matching the eyes that shone like dark beatles from his face. But his eyes were by far the least concerning feature...this creature had no mouth, but a stretch of smooth, taught skin where one should be.

<< It has been a long time since I’ve come across a creature like you… >>

Ford’s eyes widened as he realized that he’d heard these words not out loud, but in his own head . His gaze flickered up to the empty space where the Collector’s mouth should have been, a hazy recollection dancing through his mind about the fascinating manner in which he’d heard these beings communicated. Having evolved without mouths, they relied instead on a one-way system of direct telepathic communication. It was what made them so powerfully suited to their line of work… they had no need to know the language of their customers when they could project thoughts directly. Though they were not true telepaths in the ability to probe the minds of others, the Collectors did possess the uncanny ability to recognize another being’s thoughts as they spoke. It made them impossible to lie to.

Ford’s flash of memory was interrupted by the same invasive voice.

<< Tell me, what is it that you call your own race again? Otherwise I’ll just have to invent a name for you. >> The Collector gazed mockingly.

Hardening his features in defiance, Ford stared stonily back, refusing to voice an answer.

The creature took a strolling step forward, reacting to the silence with a darkly amused glint in his beady eyes.

<< Have it your way. A creature as rare as you will still fetch a fine price. But the real prize will come with the child… >>

At these words Ford’s heart pounded in fear, his defiant expression dissolving into one of alarm.

Seeing the man’s visible distress, the Collector’s eyes squinted into a smug grin.

<< Oh yes, don’t think I didn’t see the child. Very difficult to miss, the way they were clinging to you. Pathetic… >> he sneered.

<<However, >> his eyes regained their mocking gleam, << while pathetic, the small one is far from useless. Yes, the children always yield higher bids… >>

Ford struggled to still himself as he began to tremble with anger and worry at the implications of this statement.

Exhaling deeply, the Collector drew back and began to pace the small room.

<< It was very… annoying of you to separate yourself from the child. It surely makes more work for me. But you were just too easy a catch to leave unguarded while I tracked your little friend. And hunting them will not take me long, not now that I have you secured here… >> the creature halted, turning to face Ford with a sly expression.

<< Though the task would be reduced significantly if you were to simply tell me where you left them… >>

Ford forced a dry swallow. So, she hasn’t been captured...yet… the thought filled him with a fleeting relief. Meeting the expectant gaze of the Collector, Ford gritted his teeth, his brow furrowed as his defiant silence filled the room.

<< Perhaps you can be persuaded then, >> the creature’s eyes drew to a sinister squint.

In one swift move, the Collector unhooked a small device from the belt strapped around his midsection. Ford recoiled slightly as the creature stalked forward, arm extended and device aimed at his prisoner. Sneering, the Collector flicked the switch.

An animalistic cry escaped from Ford as he was overcome by torrents of memories, each of them instances of the worst physical pain he’d ever endured. He felt the agony of each laceration, each burn, singe and gash as if he were living them all over again, thirty years-worth of torment manifesting itself all at once.

Ford fell forward in a heap as the torrent mercifully subsided, his throat raw from screaming. Gasping for breath, he once again met the eyes of his captor.

<< Did that jog your memory? >> the Collector jeered.

Trembling and drained, Ford sat resolutely upright, eyes defiant and jaw set.

<< Ah, no matter, it won’t take me long to locate the child. You’ll be reunited with your small friend before too long… >> the creature leered, turning and striding toward the doorway. Before crossing through he turned, cocking his head back at Ford. << However briefly that may be. >>

With a jarring clamor the door slammed into place, leaving Ford alone in the cell. Worn ragged, he slumped back into the corner, feeling hollow.

The torture had been completely and utterly mental, leaving not a single new mark on him. Damaged goods sell for a lower price , the thought dawned on him, making him sick to his stomach.

Reaching around awkwardly with cuffed hands he discovered that his coat pockets had been emptied, leaving him with nothing. His glasses has miraculously remained intact through the whole ordeal, if a little askew.

Staring ahead, Ford felt his blood go cold as his thoughts drifted to Mabel. Judging by the daylight still filtering through the small window, he hadn’t been unconscious for very long. Hiding her away had worked, but where could she possibly be now?

His heart pounded at the thought of her, lost and alone in the swarming bazaar. It was a minefield of danger out there, a strange and foreign environment with any number of hazards that could befall a child. Once again he felt a creeping chill as he imagined the small girl meandering the streets alone, a lurking Collector close on her trail. The likelihood of her capture was achingly high, and even if she did evade her pursuer, how long would she last alone in the multiverse?

Ford’s mouth went dry at the bleak outlook. When ( if , he forced himself to think instead) Mabel was captured, the possibility of them staying together was slim at best; from what he had heard during his travels, the beings who partook in such nefarious trades rarely acquired more than one being of any race for their menageries. If Mabel was taken, it was likely they would be shipped off to different buyers, never to see each other again.

It was a small consolation that the Collector would likely not harm Mabel directly, but Ford’s blood boiled to imagine her being subjected to that awful device.

The longer he sat, the more his mind spiraled with worry over the fate of his niece. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. Gripping the uneven wall with both cuffed hands, he struggled to a standing position, head pounding and legs shaking. He was in weak shape, but after taking a moment to muster his energy, he shambled over to the barred doorway.

To his further dismay, the bars were as thick as his forearm, and the locking mechanism showed no signs of weakness to be exploited. Peering through, Ford saw that the room was set at the end of long, darkened hallway. He pressed closer against the bars, struggling to gain a better view, when an abrupt snarl sent him reeling back from the door. Against the wall, Ford wrenched his gaze back to the doorway, where he was met with the sight of a hulking, razor-fanged creature fixing him with a menacing stare. After giving another low growl, the creature stalked back out of sight.

Of course there’d be a guard, Ford berated himself. It had been foolish to think there was any chance of his escape, not in his current state. But, for Mabel’s sake, he’d known he’d at least needed to try. Heart sinking, he leaned into the wall.

I’ll never forgive myself for all of this, it’s my fault she’s in danger now...I should have been more vigilant,   his thoughts echoed, guilt and worry filling him. It’s all my fault.

________________________________________________________________________

It was difficult to mark the passage of time, but slowly the light began to dwindle away. The pale glow of dusk was just beginning to settle when Ford heard an outside door slam shut and a set of footsteps pound closer.

Heart racing with trepidation, Ford threw himself near the cell door, dread pooling in his stomach in anticipation of the sight that would surely meet him. He tensed as the footsteps drew nearer, the Collector coming into view…

The man nearly collapsed with giddy relief as he saw the Collector approach, empty handed and seething. Despite himself, Ford felt a faint, triumphant laugh escape him. Mabel was still free, at least for the moment!

Spying Ford on the other side of the door, the Collector stalked his way over.

<< Oh, don’t look so hopeful. They’ve evaded me for now, but they won’t last. Word of your capture has spread through this entire area, everyone is aware that I am hunting the small one. And that I pay handsomely… >>

With a glare, the creature pushed away and stormed off, the sound of footsteps growing weaker until a slamming door silenced them altogether.

Ford felt lightheaded with jubilation. Somehow, Mabel had managed to evade capture! He had no idea how, Collectors were well-known for their level of skill at their trade…

His smile faltered suddenly as he reflected on this. Had she merely been fortunate, or had some worse fate befallen her? What if the reason the Collector was unable to track her was because the trail was dead...what if…

What if she’s dead , the thought gripped him, ghost-like, forcing his heart to skip a beat.

He shook his head quickly, refusing to let himself believe the notion, refusing to abandon hope.

Wherever you are, Mabel, he thought fiercely, as if by concentrating hard enough she would hear him, please, be safe.

Chapter Text

Mabel was unsure of how much time had passed when she let out a final, shuddering breath from the silent sobs that had been shaking her. The street outside was once again humming with the constant noise of moving beings. Scrubbing her sleeved hand across her face to dash her tears, she took a deep breath and peeked through the sheets and carts that hid her alleyway.

For the most part, the street outside showed no signs of the awful event that had taken place there...beings of various sizes still milled about, stopping at stands and bartering for goods. However, Mabel found her eyes drawn to the corner of the street, where a stocky being with six eyes had drawn somewhat of a crowd around him. She couldn’t hear the creature’s speech from where she hid, but the beings around him seemed highly entranced and interested in his tale. She watched as he threw his arms about wildly and pantomimed a running motion, snatching the arm of a surprised smaller being that stood near him.

Her stomach clenched as she began to recognize the series of charades...the arm of the smaller being was hastily dropped as the storyteller spun madly around, mock frenzy in his eyes. He play-acted pulling and aiming a gun, pausing briefly to speak to his growing audience. With a dramatic flare, he flew backwards as if crashed into by some invisible force. His audience drew back, murmuring amongst themselves with excited gleams in their eyes.

Drawing once again to his full height, the six-eyed creature beamed at those around him. Hunching his shoulders conspiringly, he flicked one wrist out to a few feet above the ground, clearly indicating the height of something.

Mabel drew a terrified gasp as the storyteller threw his arms out and gestured around the street in a sweeping motion. The heads of the audience swivelled around excitedly, eyes darting as they began searching for something.

It’s me , she realized, her blood running cold. They saw what happened to Ford, and now they’re looking for me!

Her heart raced as she saw the small crowd disperse and begin to peek attentively into corners and behind carts.

I can’t stay here, they’ll get me too!

Thinking fast, she snatched one of the sheets of fabric that hung in front of the entrance to her nook. Her hands trembled as she rapidly draped the cloth around her, pulling the edge of it over her head in a large, concealing hood.

Mustering her courage with a deep breath, she peeked out once again. Foot traffic had continued to increase in the street, a permeable wall of living beings washed through the area like a wave.

Okay Mabel, you can do this… three, two one…

With a push, the girl slid herself out and into the swarming mass, her small hands balled up in the makeshift cloak that fell to her ankles. She breathed hard, peeking anxiously through the hood for any signs of pursuit.

Mabel felt herself pushed with the flow of the crowd toward the end of the street, struggling to keep pace with the moving masses. Trying her best to look discreet, she gravitated to the center of the the lane in an attempt to blend in. Her heart hammered as strange beings brushed by her; each passing moment was laced with the piercing fear that she would be recognized.

After what felt like an eternity, the crowd flowed into a massive central plaza, sweeping the girl along with it. She fought the urge to stand still and gawk in awe at what seemed to be the heart of the marketplace, compelling herself instead to keep moving.

Mabel forced her legs to stay in motion as she treaded the periphery of the square, using constant movement to help combat the tide of panic that kept welling inside of her. Her thoughts spiraled dreadfully as she tried to think of a plan of action, distracting her as she wove between throngs of creatures.

She was snapped from her thoughts by yelps of surprise and confusion from a few yards ahead. Eyes going wide, she halted as she spotted a trio of lofty, reptilian beings shoving through the crowd, yanking aside any creature shorter than five feet tall for inspection.

Mabel forced a dry gulp upon realizing where she had seen them before: gathered around the six-eyed being in the narrow street! Her stomach dropped as she connected the dots: the six-eyed creature’s indication of something short, the trio’s targeting of small beings...they were pulling aside anyone who might fit her profile in hopes of finding the child that had been with Ford!

Taking shaky steps backward, the girl tightened her grip on her hood and scanned the immediate area with wide, frenzied eyes for an escape route. Her heart leapt as she spotted the nearby entrance into a side-street just a few paces behind her.

Wasting no time, she shuffled hastily toward her escape. After a couple steps, Mabel chanced a quick glance over her shoulder just in time to see the leader of the small pack shoving through the crowd.

For a brief, chilling moment, her wide eyes met the being’s slitted pupils. A moment was all it took; within seconds the creature was charging forward, arm extended toward her as his goons followed suit behind him.

A choked yelp escaped Mabel as she broke into a flat-out sprint into the side-street. This lane was nestled between high walls of sandstone, with doors and hollows forming the entrances to permanent shops. The structures cast long shadows over the street, making for dim visibility. Darting and weaving between the falling feet of larger beings, the girl’s breath scoured her throat as she sprinted away from her rapidly encroaching pursuers.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she heard them just on her heels. In a desperate move, she flung herself around a corner, and yelped as she felt hands whip her aside and cover her mouth…

The light grew even dimmer as she felt herself pulled back through a darkened door hollow, a wrinkled palm pressed to her mouth and muffling her cries. Thrashing frantically, the sheet fell from her and pooled to the ground.

“ Shh! ” Her captor hissed in a croaking tone. “Quiet or they’ll hear you!”

Caught off guard by the instructions, Mabel stilled her struggling and turned around to face the owner of the voice.

In the muted light, she found herself face-to-face with a squat, wrinkled older being draped in coarse brown cloth that was secured around the waist with an humongous belt. Enormous eyes shone out of the deeply lined face, wide and urgent. The older being lifted a finger to her lips, crouching back and drawing the girl gently back with her.

“Look,” she urged, gesturing out through the hollow toward the street.

Mabel watched with her heart in her throat as the three reptilian pursuers sped past the doorway, oblivious to the fact that their target was no longer there.

The wrinkled being pulled Mabel gently further back into the dark hollow and gestured for her to stay put as she shuffled quickly to the doorway. Light winked off the stacks of bracelets along her leathery arms as she grasped the edge of the doorway and peeked her head out. A handful of seconds passed before she turned back to the girl, a smug grin on her face.

“They have gone now. No more chasing little human girl!” Her voice rasped as she scuffled back.

Heart still racing with adrenaline, Mabel’s head spun as she tried to process these words.

“H-how do you--” she stammered.

“Hush hush now, little human girl,” the old woman croaked, grabbing Mabel’s hand and giving it a kindly pat. “Just follow old Somyan, I will answer your questions, yeah.”

“You-you’re not taking me to the Collector?” Mabel stumbled, astounded, as the woman doddered away deeper into the building.

“Oh psssh” the woman, Somyan, scoffed from a few feet away. Her wrinkled face drew into a web of disgust. “You may have many worries, little human girl, but having me deal with a Collector is not one of them.” She spat the word as if it left a horrid taste in her mouth. “Come come now!” She started off once again.

Mabel hesitated a moment before deciding to follow. Releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, she drew herself up and began forward after Somyan.

As they ventured further into the structure, Mabel’s eyes adjusted to the dim light. The dwelling was not enormous; the small antechamber entrance prefaced a wide single room that held two curtained windows. In the corner was a neat pile of folded blankets that Mabel supposed acted as a bed. Large barrels and jars lined the walls and shelves, and smaller vials and bottles gleamed from a small workstation in the far end of the room.

Somyan took Mabel’s hand and gently led her to a low, wobbly table in the center of the room.

“Sit now, little human girl,” the woman said, her bracelets jangling as she gave Mabel’s back a light pat.

Mabel did as she was instructed, taking a seat on a large cushion at the base of the table. She watched with wide eyes as Somyan turned and teetered over to the windows.

“We should have no worries about any nasty people looking for you here,” the old woman spoke, drawing the curtains more securely over the small windows. The room became drenched in a cozy purple haze as the light filtered through the violet curtains.

Sonyam shuffled over to one of the large barrels and began to scoop something from it into a ceramic kettle. Finally, Mabel shook herself from her silence.

“Excuse me but, why are you helping me? Who are you?” The girl blurted.

The old woman nonchalantly continued filling the kettle, adding water to the mix when she was satisfied at the amount. After placing it over what appeared to be a small stove, she made her way back to the table and plopped herself down on a cushion of her own.

“This whole settlement, it’s all jibber-jabbering about that Collector’s latest find,” she said with disdain, pursing her lips. “And how there was a small one that got away! ‘Oh, the Collector will pay a high prize to anyone who finds the small one for him!’ they all are saying. Pssh. They’re all sell-outs, they are, will do anything for a quick prize. Not old Sonyam though...don’t want nothing to do with Collectors.” She spat dryly to punctuate her point.

Mabel gasped at the confirmation that she was indeed the target of not only the Collector now, but of the entire settlement as well. Eying the old woman with unease, the girl chanced another question.

“But, why did you decide to help me?” Mabel gaped. “Not that I’m not happy that you are!” She added hastily.

Sonyam leaned forward across the table, her large eyes swimming with several emotions. With a shadow of a wry smile, she reached out and patted Mabel’s hand once more.

“l was like you, a long long time ago. I was not there and so I did not see it, but the one you were travelling with, the one the Collector snatched up, they are human also, yeah?”

Mabel nodded somberly. “He’s my uncle.” Cocking her head, the girl peered curiously across the table. “What do you mean, you were like me? And how did you know I’m human? Ford- my uncle - said that the reason the Collector was after us was because we were like, rare , in this dimension or something..?”

The old woman chuckled to herself and stood to retrieve the now-boiling kettle, returning to the table with it and two small cups. Setting them down, she poured sweet-smelling liquid into each, and passed one to Mabel.

“It is true, you are not from this dimension. Ah, but neither is old Sonyam!” She grinned at the girl conspiratorially. “My father was a spice merchant, and I was his assistant! Our spices were singular to our own home, and so we hop-hopped to other worlds, a booming trade!” She exclaimed, eyes misting over with nostalgia as she recalled her youth.

“We travelled far, we saw many different peoples and worlds. But we perhaps travelled too far, for in one dimension there were none who recognized our kind,” she murmured, eyes clouding. “We were easy prey for those Collectors, we never imagined our fate. My father fell victim, and he was ripped from me.” She stared off for a moment, lost in her past. Remembering her company, she looked up with a gleam in her eye. “I was fast, back then in youth, and so I ran, quick quick! I slipped that Collector’s grasp!”

Mabel set her cup down, horrified and heartbroken for the old woman. Before she could speak, Sonyam continued.

“Others in this settlement, they may not know of humans, but I do! I have met many humans, some good some bad, as anywhere,” she continued, sipping her drink. “I walk around today, hear the jibber-jab of the town, hear that Collector has got his hands on some new kind of creature. These people, they only know of who comes to them, they only hop hop between this dimension and maybe one more. Pssh.” she tsked. “But then I hear of a small one who escaped,” she smiled and patted Mabel’s hand once more, “and I say to myself, ‘Oh Sonyam, this one is just as you were! If you see this small one, you must help!’ And what do I hear later but the pat pat pat of footsteps, and see a small one running, just as I ran! ‘It is a risk, Sonyam’, I said to myself, ‘but you must act !’ And so here you are!” Her bracelets clinked as she threw her arms out in a gesture toward the girl.

Mabel couldn’t help but smile at this being’s energy, at the spark of enthusiasm in her oversized eyes. Overcome with a wave of gratitude, she made her way around to Sonyam and threw her arms around the old woman.

“Thank you so much,” the girl whispered, a trickle of tears falling down her face. “I was so sure they would get me...”

“Hush hush, little human girl,” Sonyam replied not unkindly, a soft smile on her face as she returned the embrace.

Drawing back, Mabel wiped her tears away and smiled. “My name’s Mabel,” she spoke, a warmth spreading throughout her as she realized how safe she felt in the presence of this old woman.

“Mabel,” Sonyam repeated back to her, rolling the name around in her mouth. “Very nice name, pretty pretty,” she added with a grin.

Mabel’s next few hours were spent in the tender care of Sonyam, who observed the girl’s somewhat travel-weary state. After insisting she eat her fill of a strange-tasting but filling soup and drink more of the sweet liquid, Sonyam draped Mabel in an oversized robe-like garment while she washed her dusty pink sweater.

By the time the light began to fade into dusk, Mabel was fully fed and clad in a freshly laundered sweater. She found she liked Sonyam very much, for her odd little speech patterns and the way she smelled like warm spices, as well as her disdain for the Collectors and all that they stood for. Mabel was overjoyed to have made a friend.

Sonyam seemed to have taken a liking to the girl as well, constantly patting her on the head and calling her ‘little human Mabel’ with an endearing smile. She taught Mabel how to properly mix the sweet drink, which was something like tea but more wholesome and filling.

The outside light began to fade, prompting Sonyam to light a scattering of candles around the space. As the woman shuffled from candle to candle, Mabel noticed a sad glint in her large eyes.

“Sonyam, what’s the matter?” The girl asked sincerely of her new friend.

The old woman offered a sorrowful smile, making her way over.

“Oh, little human Mabel, I only worry for you…your road ahead is not easy, and I only wish I could be of more help for you.” Seeing the girl’s concerned expression, Sonyam gave a despondant sigh and continued. “Old Sonyam was able to keep you hidden for today, but the Collector… he will not give up his search. You will not be truly safe in this place, not while he is here.”

Mabel felt her blood go cold at the words; she could do nothing but stare, frightened, up at the crinkled face of her friend.

“I am too old, small one, it is my wish that I could travel with you on to other worlds. No no, I can not go with. But I can help to sneak you away. Old Sonyam knows where the nasty Collector stays, we can stay far away from him, sneak right by.”

The girl’s heart hammered in her chest as she thought on the prospect of leaving this dimension, alone, losing the last shred of family she had left. Her worry for Ford had lurked throughout the day, always in the back of her head. The thought of leaving him behind…

Suddenly, the old woman’s words sparked an idea. Sitting bolt upright, Mabel turned to Sonyam.

“Wait! You know where the Collector lives?” She exclaimed, grabbing the woman’s arm.

“Yes yes, we stay far away from it, no worry of seeing nasty Collector.” Sonyam crooned, as if to soothe the girl’s worries.

“No, I...I need you to take me there,” Mabel said slowly, hearing aloud how mad the statement sounded. “If we know where the Collector is, then I bet that’s where Ford is! I have to try and get to him!”

The old woman drew back, shock and fear painting her old features. “No no no, my little human Mabel...you cannot go into the Collector’s den, you will never be seen again! I can not permit you! We sneak you away from this place, that is that!”

“I have to try!” Mabel cried out, eyes shining with threatening tears. “He’s the only family I have now!”

This exclamation seemed to strike a chord with the old woman. Her large eyes went from wide and alarmed to merely sad, a heartbroken sort of understanding shining through them. Placing a leathery hand on Mabel’s small shoulders, she sighed.

“You are very brave, little human girl, brave and determined. Just like old Sonyam,” she added with a tiny grin. Taking a deep breath, she declared her next words as if making an oath. “I fear for you, but I will take you where you wish to go.”

A flood of gratitude and fear and anticipation washed over Mabel at this affirmation. She flashed Sonyam a shaky smile and squeezed the old woman’s hand in a gesture of thanks.

Above all the trepidation and fear, Mabel felt a plucky determination begin to grow within her. You saved me, Grunkle Ford , she thought to herself. Now it’s my turn to come and save you.

Chapter Text

Night had fallen completely by the time Sonyam and Mabel departed the safety of the dwelling. The once-bustling streets had since settled to an eerie quiet, save the occasional late passerby. Mabel huddled close to her friend, cinching her makeshift cloak tighter around her face as they shuffled their way along the winding streets.

They padded softly through twisting lanes and dusty corridors, keeping close to the shadow-shrouded walls. Mabel could sense the unease rolling like waves from Sonyam as they ventured further and further into dangerous territory.

After an almost unbearably tense period of hasteful travelling, the pair came within sight of a looming sandstone wall. Glinting in the waning moonlight was a polished metal door, an unnatural material set sharply into the red grit of the wall.

Sonyam halted abruptly with the door in sight, her usually genial face contorted with apprehension.

“This is the place, little Mabel,” the words hissed hurriedly from her lips. “The Collector, this is where he lurks.”

Mabel’s eyes flicked nervously to the door before returning to her friend. With a dry swallow, she forced herself to focus on her mission rather than her ever-mounting fear.

“Do you know if that door will be locked?” the girl breathed.

With a grimace, the old woman replied.

“The people here, they fear the Collector…only those that are funny-fun in the brain would dare trespass into his lair,” she said with a dry swallow.

Forcing a tight grin, Mabel looked up at her companion. “I guess you can put me right in the funny-bin then, huh?” Sucking in a quick breath, the girl glanced quickly at the door and then back to the old woman. “I...I’ve got to go do this now. You’ve been so nice to me, and I wish I could do more to thank you…”

Sonyam’s eyes widened with worry, before softening. “Little human Mabel, you are truly one of the bravest beings I have met in my long life. In this dimension and in others. Old Sonyam wishes you swift feet and a long, happy life.”

Giving the woman’s hand one final squeeze, Mabel drew up her hood and raced forward, the darkness of the night swallowing her whole.

Sonyam shuffled nervously away, pausing only one half second to throw a glance back to the Collector’s compound.

Under her breath, she breathed her parting words.

“Good luck, small girl. Good luck.”

* * * *

Mabel paced hastily down the corridor, horribly aware of how loudly her breathing echoed from the walls. Before, she had been certain the door would pose the toughest obstacle, but it had been a piece of cake compared to the labyrinthine structure of the Collector’s lair.

She crouched low in the dimly lit hallways, her heart thrumming as she rounded each new corner, certain that the Collector would be there waiting to snatch her. Every few meters, a dull green halo of light seeped down from small lanterns bolted into the sandstone. Coupled with the clammy indoor air, the overall atmosphere of the compound sent a chill right to Mabel’s bones.

The girl continued on, pressing herself to the walls and sneaking quickly past any lanterns. Whether she ventured for seconds or minutes she couldn’t say; the adrenaline pumping through her system distorted any sense of time.

As she rounded what felt like the hundredth corner, Mabel sucked in a quick gasp. Piled unceremoniously under a lantern was Ford’s gear! Overcome with elation, she took one of the blanket rolls in her arms and hugged it to herself.

“He’s here somewhere!”

The girl quickly buried her mouth in the blanket, petrified at her outburst. Until now, there had been no sign of anyone, but her pulse quickened at the thought of being caught, now, after making it so far.

Heart in her throat, she held her breath and stood in silence, straining her ears for any sounds of approaching footsteps. After she couldn’t hold anymore, she let out a muffled breath and turned back to Ford’s pack.

As gingerly as possible, she hastily ruffled through her great uncle’s supplies. Finally, her hands found what they were looking for.

The laser pistol glinted dully in the light as she removed it from the pile. Grimacing, she drew the weapon near. It felt heavy and bulky and dangerous in her small hands. Taking a deep breath, she tried to focus.

Okay, just chill out Mabel, you can do this...I mean, it’s not that different from your grappling hook, right??

She shifted the gun from hand to hand, hoping to find that it felt more comfortable in one than the other, but it was just made too big for her smaller grip. I wish I HAD my grappling hook... she thought mournfully.

Settling the weapon cautiously into her right hand, the girl hunkered down and into the next corridor.

After a few more fruitless twists and turns, Mabel felt despair and dread begin to wash over her in waves. His things were there but I can’t find Ford! What if...

Before she could finish her awful thoughts of the worst-case scenario, the horrible sound of heavy footfall halted her in her tracks. Ducking quickly toward the darkest part of the hallway, Mabel shrank down and held her breath, clasping the gun in both hands.

Her eyes grew wide and she had to choke back a shriek as a hulking, razor-fanged creature stalked into the corridor from the adjoining hallway. Standing tall on its rear haunches, the creature’s head inclined as it drew short, focused breaths, sniffing like a bloodhound on the hunt.

With a sudden low growl, the creature’s head swung to Mabel’s location down the long hallway. In seconds, it was loping toward her on all fours, closing the gap between them at a sickening pace.

A yelp escaped Mabel as she scrambled to her feet, fumbling the weapon in between her shaking hands. Drawing it forward with both arms outstreched, she tried to mimic what Ford had done with the wolf, what felt like years ago. Her index finger curled around the trigger and squeezed.

An empty click.

“Aah!” she cried out, slamming her palm against the side. “Work! Come on, work!!”

As the beast closed the final few paces between them, a few things seemed to happen all in quick succession. First, Mabel’s fingers flicked the almost imperceivable safety latch on the side of the pistol as she hit its side. Second, the fanged creature closed the final gap, muscular front arms outstretched, with murder in its slitted eyes. And third, a bright red blast of heat shot from the outstretched gun.

The creature’s momentum carried it forward even as Mabel shot, and sent the lumbering beast barreling into the small girl.

For a moment, Mabel’s vision swam with spots and stars, her thoughts an unordered blur. Then with a gasp she felt the crushing weight of the creature, stunned or dead, heaped on top of her legs and torso. Summoning all her strength, she shoved her arms against the coarse skin of the creature, wedging herself out from under it inch-by-inch. With a final heaving breath, the girl drew her legs free from the bundle of muscle and teeth that had seconds ago stampeded her. As she scuffled away, the sheet she’d been using as a cloak tore away from her, still trapped by the creature.

Breathing raggedly, her throat dry, Mabel winced as she stood. She was bleeding slightly where the back of her legs had been scuffed raw, and she could feel tender spots where bruises were sure to form, but she was otherwise in decent shape. Her eyes darted frantically around and lit up when she saw that the gun lay unscathed only a few feet away. Without a second thought, she scooped it up and sprinted down the corridor.

Feeling even more vulnerable now without her cloak, she peeked cautiously around the corner. Her shoulders jerked up with hope at the sight that met her: another long hallway, this one terminating in a locked cell door.

Pausing only briefly to make sure no other monsters lurked in the shadows, Mabel threw herself down the hall on feet light as feathers.

She approached the thick bars of the door, heart thrumming as she squinted inside. Unbounded jubilation filled her as she took in the sight of Ford, slumped against the far wall with his eyes closed.

“Ford! Grunkle Ford!” she exclaimed, tears of relief flowing freely down her face as she pressed up against the bars.

The man’s eyes snapped open at the sound of her voice. Head perked, he hastily shifted his body to face the cell door.

“Mabel?” Ford’s voice cracked in stunned disbelief.

“Yes! It’s me!” She reached a small arm through the bars, trying desperately to close the gap between them. “I came back for you!”

Staggering to his feet, the man shambled forward and threw himself toward the door and toward his niece, clasping her outreached hand between his two cuffed ones.

“I never thought I’d see you again! When he…” she choked back a sob, “I thought I’d lost all my family forever!” Mabel wept openly now, overcome with joy and grief and emotional exhaustion.

Giving her hand a desperate squeeze, the man’s voice was thick was emotion. “I thought I’d doomed you, and when the Collector didn’t seize you I thought…” he swallowed. “I thought the worst might have happened. My, but it’s good to see you, Mabel…”

A long, tearful moment passed, before alarm filled Ford’s eyes once more. “Mabel, I don’t know how you got in this wretched place, but you can’t stay here! The Collector, any minute he could find you-”

“I’m not leaving without you! We’re all we’ve got!” Mabel proclaimed, clutching desperately onto her uncle’s hand. Distraught, she examined the thick bars of the door. Suddenly, her face lit up.

“I’ve got your gun!” she gasped.

“You what? Where did you find--”

“Can I use it to shoot through the lock?” she interrupted, fervent.

“Possibly...it has different settings. If I turned it to the highest…”

“Here, take it!” Without wasting another second, the girl shoved the weapon through the bars and into her uncle’s outstretched hands.

Ford’s brow furrowed as he struggled to hold the gun properly, his cuffed wrists making the task difficult. Frowning in concentration, he adjusted a dial on the handle a few degrees to the right.

Mabel perched on tiptoes, fingers curled around the thick bars of the door as she watched her uncle work.

Suddenly, a resounding crash echoed through the hallway as a nearby door was flung open. Mabel’s head swiveled toward the sound, surprise and fear rooting her to the ground where she stood.

A sinewy, darkly-clad figure rounded the corner of the hallway, racing toward the cell on nimble feet.

Ford’s breath caught ragged in his throat.

“Mabel, run, get away!” he rasped in terror.

“I- ah!”

The girl yelped as a muscular hand clawed closed around her upper arm and shoulder, pressing her back against the body of the Collector.

<< How touching, the child has come back to the guardian, >> Mabel flinched as the silent voice rang through her head.

Ford’s eyes grew wide with horror as the Collector shuffled forward toward the cell door, Mabel in tow.

<< All my hard work searching the village, and the small one comes shambling right into my grasp, like a pest to honey. Stupid on their part, but courage is such a marketable trait… >>

The Collector’s hand squeezed tighter around Mabel’s arm. In a rash moment, she jerked forward to escape his grip, but she only struggled fruitlessly against his strong hold.

Frowning in annoyance, the Collector yanked the girl back toward him.

<< Pathetic,>> he spat. Suddenly, his eyes took on a wicked glint. Glancing briefly at Ford in his cell, the Collector reached an arm behind himself and turned his gaze to the girl.

<< This one will have to be taught what happens to unruly specimen, >> he said, his a dark glee lacing his voice. In one swift move, he drew out the small torture device and pointed it against Mabel’s head.

“No,” Ford stared in breathless terror at what was unfolding before him. Before another second could pass, the man jerked his gaze to meet the terrified eyes of his niece.

He drew the gun from the ground and pressed it against the cell door.

“Mabel! Duck!” he shouted with haggard breath.

Eyes growing wide at the sight of the weapon, Mabel quickly let her knees fall out from under her. The unexpected shift downward sent the Collector stumbling forward, as a bright red flash erupted against the metal of the bars. The door hissed as the heat lanced through it, blocks of sandstone careening down around where the bars had once dug into it.

The Collector screeched wordlessly as the blast struck his torso, stumbling back and releasing his grip on Mabel.

Clouds of dust and the stench of burnt metal filled the air. Coughing, Ford raised his head from the ground, seeing that the force of the blast had thrown him backwards and broken the clasp of his handcuffs.

Ears ringing, the man forced himself to shaky feet, stumbling forward toward the ragged hole in the wall where the door had once stood.

“Mabel!” he cried, eyes frantically searching the rubble for the girl. He soon spotted her small form, ducked on the ground with arms over her head, and coated in dust. A small trickle of blood ran from her nose as she raised her head toward him.

“F-Ford…”

He scrambled over the wreckage as best he could, veins filled with adrenaline. Stumbling over to her, he crouched down and reached out for her hand.

“Are you injured, can you stand?” he asked, eyes frantically sweeping her for obvious wounds.

Her ears still ringing terribly, she climbed raggedly to her feet, grasping on to Ford’s hand for stability. As if in a daze, her head turned down and saw the Collector, sprawled on the floor yards away with a smoking wound in his side. His eyes were shut, but he drew ragged, painful breaths.

The girl’s eyes met with Ford in alarm at the sight. He gripped her hand in response, gently tugging her down the corridor.

“We must leave, come Mabel, let’s go…”

As the two moved forward, a small device caught Ford’s eye, laying haphazardly just feet from the Collector’s crumpled form. Face hardening with cold hatred, the man left Mabel’s side just long enough to crush the evil device under the heel of his boot. Rejoining his niece, he drew her forward along with him.

Smoking ruins at their backs, the two shuffled toward the hallway, and to freedom.

Chapter Text

An account of the past several hours:

As I now write, Mabel is finally, if fitfully, asleep by my side. The poor girl lied down two hours ago by my count, but would jerk awake every twenty minutes or so, breathless and wide-eyed. I know from personal experience how awful nightmares can be, but to see that raw terror on the face of a child so sweet as my niece...well, it broke my heart anew every time. I feel so helpless in this matter; all I can do is hold her close and hope she feels some degree of safety. Anyway, she’s been out long enough now that I feel confident in taking a few moments to record the past few hours.

After shooting down that wretched Collector, we fled as quickly as our weary feet could carry us through that labyrinthine layer of his. Amazingly, Mabel was able to remember the path to the exit. Along the way she skidded to a halt and breathlessly clung to the wall, tugging me along with. It took me a moment to register that she was avoiding a furry heap on the ground. It took yet another instant for me to recognize that heap as my prison guard, now with the trademark singe of my pistol in its side. It was enough to string the evidence together: that before finding my cell, Mabel had come face to face with this horrid creature. I began to urge her along, but she hastily pointed to a dark corner; there lay my supplies. Not wanting to waste precious time, I grabbed only what I deemed essential: my pack and and largest gun.

A chill goes through me even now to recall it...as I swung the pack around my shoulder, a leaf of parchment fluttered from the folds.

It was a receipt of purchase for one fully-grown human, along with pending negotiations of a human child for bid to a competing buyer.

Perhaps it was a stroke of luck that I saw that horror, now that I think back...it gave me a fresh burst of energy to sustain our flight from that godforsaken dimension.

As I had mentioned to Mabel earlier, the fact that a bazaar was nearby indicated the high likelihood that interdimensional weak spots would be fairly common, if we could find them. I clung to this hope as I scuffled us out of the village and back into the sandstone canyons beyond. Beaten and weary as we both were, we pushed on, desperately afraid of what dangers lay behind.

Dawn was just threatening the horizon when we stumbled upon it: a dimensional weak spot, small but just barely viable. Mabel remembered what I had taught her, and without even needing to consult me, the girl hurled the first rock she could grab into the gateway. Hearts in our throats, we both stared for what felt like a lifetime, but thankfully nothing returned. The spot was shrinking, though, and so without a second to lose we joined hands and took the leap.

We find ourselves now nestled into the outcroppings of a massive seaside cliff. Far down the expansive shelf of rock, giant seabirds roost in the cliff walls. We have set up a meager campsite in the abandoned remnants of what appears to be an old nest; though a small part of me was fearful that some enormous avian would swoop in to reclaim her territory, that fear was instantly set aside when I paused long enough to take stock of my niece.

I am pleased to see her getting some well-deserved rest now, because the poor thing was much the worse for wear when we arrived a few hours ago.

After settling into the first quasi-hospitable place we found, Mabel faced the sea and closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath of the brisk ocean air in the dying light of dusk. It was then that she began to sway on her feet.

Alarmed, I immediately took her into my arms and jerked her away from the cliff’s edge. A painful breath escaped her as she stumbled back, hands clutching at her side.

“Mabel! Are you alright?” I asked once she was safely removed from the drop.

“Mmph- it’s just,” she hissed painfully as she settled gingerly to the ground, “I got pretty banged-up back there.”

It was only then that I noticed with dismay how truly battered my niece looked: a trickle of dried blood still ran under her nose, dust and flecks of rock littered her torn sweater and bedraggled hair, purple circles were beginning to bloom under her eyes...and she had begun wincing in pain with one arm clasped to her side.

“Before I found you, there was this...monster. It was running so fast at me and the gun wouldn’t work, and it landed on top me…” she coughed, breath hitching with every movement.

Heart pounding, I cautiously settled her to a seated position. After asking her permission, I gently felt her side and back where she was holding it, fearful I’d find a broken rib. It was with mild relief that I found only a bruised rib instead, where by all means a beast of that size should have easily punctured a lung.

“Grunkle Ford!” she’d gasped suddenly as I was examining her injuries. Worried that I’d hit a sore spot, I immediately withdrew my hands.

“I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?” I stammered.

“Your wrists!” she exclaimed, concern painting her face. “They’re all scraped from the handcuffs!”

Ford’s pen hovered over the page a moment as he stopped to recall the memory.

My heart ached as Mabel, who must have been in a great deal of pain, ignored her own injuries to address my well-being. With a lump in my throat, I gingerly smoothed a lock of hair away from her face.

“Don’t you worry about me, Mabel. We’re far away from that place now.”

Her small hand reached shakily out for mine as she whispered, “Do you think he’ll be able to follow us here?”

Taking a deep breath, I gave her hand a squeeze.

“The weak spot we travelled through was just on the brink of collapse when we used it. In truth, it was probably too risky to use, but given the circumstances…” seeing her wide eyes hanging onto every word, I jumped to my point. “It would be very difficult, near impossible, that the gateway we used would support further use. We’re safe from him here, dear.”

She nodded at that, still caught in the daze of the whole experience.

Despite the pain of her injuries, Mabel inched nearer and twined her arm around mine, leaning her head against me.

“I’m glad I didn’t lose you, too,” she whispered, almost to herself. Careful not to jostle her rib, I pulled her in close, hoping the gesture could convey words I was too verklempt to speak.

I cleaned our wounds as best I could with what little supplies remained in my pack; I’ll have to resupply at the next possible opportunity (though that may be a few weeks from now, depending on how quickly Mabel heals).

In the rush of activity that has happened, it only begins to hit me now just how narrow our escape truly was. Mabel told me a few details of her survival in that other dimension, about the kindness of the woman who helped her. Would that I could somehow send her a message of how deeply thankful I am to her, for her act of amazing fearlessness to help my family when I could not.

For years now, I’ve accepted the fact that I was alone, with only myself to rely on and take care of. But Mabel is the one who got us out of this mess, through her resourcefulness and unwillingness to give up. How proud I am to be able to proclaim such a child my niece!

A soft ocean breeze tousled Ford’s hair as the flickering light of their campfire danced over the page. Weariness creeping into his bones, he rested his head back against the cliff wall for a moment. Beside him, Mabel stirred and reached out for his his hand, reassuring herself that he was near and safe.

Before he let himself fall into sleep, he picked up his pen a final time.

Though I know the life we face will be laced with danger around every turn, it brings me some peace to know that for now, however temporary, we are safe. I’ve gone without family for so long, and almost losing Mabel has made me realize how dear to me she truly is.

The future will come, and we will face it together.

Chapter Text

Stan held his breath as he came quietly to a halt at the top of the stairs. Gathering his courage, he peeked into the late afternoon light spilling through from the doorway to the attic.

“Dipper?” He hesitated, “Hey kiddo, you wanna-”

His words collapsed into a sigh as he made his way into an empty room.

It had been four days since their world had imploded; everyone kept themselves busy by trying to clean up the wreckage from the whole ordeal, but conversation with Dipper was clipped at best. The boy did more staring off into space than talking these days, and that was when Stan could find him at all. It had only been days, but it felt like an eternity.

The low point had occured during their brief supply run into town, when Candy and Grenda had asked if Mabel could stop by later to borrow some magazines. Stan had had to physically place himself in front of Dipper to obscure any sight of the kid’s agonized face, and make up some lie about how Mabel was going to be busy helping them clean up for a while.

It made him sick to admit it, but almost from the first hour Stan’s mind had been churning in an effort to come up with a believable lie about where Mabel had gone. It was a small town, and the girl was well-loved… people were going to notice her absence.

What will their parents do when summer ends and only one twin comes home? Stan’s stomach turned to lead at the thought.

Shaking himself out of his melancholy speculation, he suddenly was filled with a zealous compulsion to find his nephew. There was a lot out of his control right now, but locating one woeful preteen was something he knew he should be able to accomplish.

He searched everywhere he could think: from the fringes of the nearby woods to the roof. Growing more agitated with each failed location, he snapped as he turned a corner only to run headlong into Soos.

“SOOS! You never look where you’re going, you big hulking-”

Stan’s words died in his mouth as he caught the mingled hurt and pity on the handyman’s face.

“Sorry, Mister Pines, sir,” he mumbled sorrowfully. He bent down to pick up the tools he’d been carrying, slowly rearranging them in his arms to avoid looking Stan in the eye.

Just when I think things can’t get any more messy, I somehow outdo myself , Stan ruminated bitterly.

The old man let out a defeated breath. “Hey Soos, I didn’t mean… well, I just got caught up looking for Dipper and I just can’t find that kid, it’s driving me nuts.”

Soos’ posture straightened immediately.

“Oh, I saw him a couple hours ago! He was going downstairs all sneaky-like and made me promise not to tell anyone…” Soos’ eyes narrowed as he realized that his promise had not lasted long.

“The basement?” Stan huffed, caught somewhere between anger and dread. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to check the basement; he’d changed the access code on the vending machine after the incident, God forbid any snooping government agents came sniffing around again. It obviously hadn’t done the trick.

Giving Soos a firm clap on the shoulder, Stan brushed his way past and strode toward the dilapidated vending machine. Sure enough, when he went to enter the access code he found that the entire number pad had been jiggled loose and a couple of internal wires had been haphazardly twisted together. Even against his deep dread of descending into the basement, Stan felt a flicker of pride in his nephew’s ability to lock-pick.

The slow drop to the basement sent Stan’s heart into an almost painful tumult; he’d been taking this elevator for years, night after endless night. He thought that seeing his own brother disappear into that damned portal was the worst thing he’d ever encounter down here, but he was wrong. At least with Ford, he’d had the miniscule flickers of hope every time he uncovered some new solution that led to further repairing the portal; that had taken 30 years of trying to configure specially-made equipment, and then trying to repair that when it eventually aged beyond use. It had been debilitating work full of sweat and heartache, and just when the fruits of his labor seemed finally ready to manifest, he’d only been rewarded with more tragedy.

The elevator door glided silently open, and Stan stepped forward without a noise.

Through a window still clouded with dust, he saw Dipper carrying an armful of rubble to a corner of the room. To Stan’s astonishment, the whole floor seemed to be cleared of everything that wasn’t a fallen steel beam.

As he took another silent step forward, Stan’s eye was caught by a dusty gleam on the control panel: the gold leaf of a journal cover. Squinting, he reached toward it and found that it had been newly bookmarked in several places. As he flipped through each marked page, it became obvious that these were all areas that referenced the original schematics of the portal.

A hot lance of livid sorrow pierced him as he put together what he was seeing: the kid thought he was going to reconstruct the portal himself. His heart wanted to burst, both from Dipper’s unwavering determination and because of the futility of the whole endeavor. Without thinking about it, Stan slammed the journal shut.

At the abrupt clamor, Dipper gave an involuntary yelp and dropped the shard of concrete he was carrying. Whipping his head around, his eyes widened as he saw Stan standing in the doorway with some unfathomable expression clouding his face.

“Grunkle Stan!” he cried out. “I uh, didn’t hear you come in…”

Dipper just stared, frozen and uncomfortable, as he watched Stan try and wrangle his emotions. After several uneasy seconds, Stan finally made his way a few steps into the portal room.

“Stan, I-”

“Kid, what do you think you’re doing? What’s the goal here?” To Dipper’s horror, Stan’s voice had gone completely numb and flat, entirely defeated. Any fumbled excuses rapidly fled from the boy’s mind.

“Stan, I… we have to work on getting her back,” Dipper said breathlessly, growing more and more agitated by the hopeless look he saw staring back at him. “It’s already been days , who knows what Mable’s had to face on the other side!”

A flinty look crept into Stan’s eye.

“Days?” he almost spat. “Days?? I spent years working on that thing! Thirty years building and rebuilding, following lost trails and dead ends! Most of that work ended up getting destroyed in the end, and no one is the better for it! In fact, it seems to me that a lot of people are worse off, don’t you?”

Dipper recoiled at the fury and anguish loaded into his uncle’s words.

“But, but you have all the experience now, you did it once and we can do it again-”

“That damned contraption has caused nothing but trouble, kid!” Stan’s voice began to falter. “I’m so sorry for losing Mabel,” he spoke in a thick voice, “I’m more sorry than you or anyone will ever know. And I’ve spent decades being sorry about my brother. And… I just don’t know that I’ve got anymore left in me to try again.”

Stan’s last proclamation hung in the air like a bomb. Dipper stared back, stupefied. At long last, he found his voice.

“So that’s it? You’re just calling it quits?”

The numb look crept back over Stan’s face, this time tinged with a shade of desperation.

“I… not again. I can’t go through it all again.”

A wave of bitter fury began to engulf Dipper. He had known that Stan might be slow to come around to the idea of rebuilding, after all, it was no small amount of work and would take extensive time and energy. But this was Mabel they were talking about!

Outraged, he cried out, “‘Well you may have given up on your own twin, but I will never, EVER give up on getting mine back!”

Before Stan could respond, Dipper blew past him and snatched the journal from the work desk. He skidded into the elevator, making sure the door slid swiftly between himself and his uncle. Hot, angry, heartbroken tears streamed down his face as he ascended, and before the door could fully open he found himself squeezing through, flying through the now-dark gift shop and up the twilit stairs to the attic.

Choking down a sob, he dragged an ancient piece of furniture in front of the door. Just thinking about Stan right now made him ill; Stan should have been the one person in the world who understood what he was going through, and instead he had resigned to giving up on what mattered most. Dipper felt nauseated at the thought.

Night had fallen while he’d been in the basement, but the full moon shone through the open window of the attic and cast an erie luminescence to everything. The boy shambled to the edge of his bed, his fisted hand wiping half-dried tears from his eyes.

Sniffling, he opened the journal to a schematics page he’d marked. He only understood a word here and there, but he’d been thinking over how to approach Stan about starting the work for days now. To have his one outside source of knowledge slip through his fingers, it was almost too much to handle.

With a determination of the type that only young adolescents can be found to possess, he delved into the page, trying with all his might to deduce any clue that might help him be reunited with his sister.

Despite his efforts, it only took minutes to realize that he could advance no further without either help or hours of intensive research.

With a heartsick huff, he fell backward on the bed and screwed his eyes shut.

The manifestation of an otherworldly glow made Dipper snap his eyes open, only to begin blinking them in disbelief.

The color seemed to have drained out of the world around him, and to have been concentrated in a single golden shape now floating its way through the window.

“LOOKS LIKE IT’S BEEN A THORNY WEEK FOR OL’ PINE TREE, AM I RIGHT?”

“ Bill ,” Dipper gasped, involuntarily shrinking away as the demon came within a few feet of him.

“SEEMS TO ME THAT WE’RE ONE PEA SHORT OF A POD IN THIS OLD ATTIC,” Bill said, raising his hand to his eye in a mock searching expression. “NOW WHAT COULD BE MISSING HERE, DON’T TELL ME I’LL GET IT…”

“G-go away! Just leave me alone!” Dipper sputtered out.

“SHEESH, TOUCHY MUCH? YOU’D THINK YOU’D SHOW ME A LITTLE MORE COURTESY, SEEING AS HOW IT WAS MY ANCIENT AND MAGNIFICENT WISDOM WHICH BUILT THAT PORTAL OF YOURS IN THE FIRST PLACE…”

The boy’s shimmering eyes widened at the implication.

“THINK ABOUT IT, PINE TREE… IT TOOK THAT OLD GEEZER DECADES TO SCRAPE TOGETHER SOMETHING I COULD DO IN SECONDS! OF COURSE IT WOULD BE MUTUALLY BENEFICIAL IF I COULD JUST VIEW THAT THERE JOURNAL...”

Dipper shook his head as if trying to fling the words from his very mind. “No, Bill always plays tricks, he always lies!” With a scathing look, he whipped his head up at the demon. “I’ll never work with you!”

Bill shrugged.

“SUIT YOURSELF PINE TREE, BUT LET ME TELL YOU, YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE OVER THERE ON THE OTHER SIDE. LOTS OF INTERESTING CHARACTERS IN THIS MULTIVERSE OF OURS, NOT ALL OF THEM SO KIND AS ME THOUGH…”

With a showy wave of his hand, Bill made the air next to him shimmer, an image slowly resolving in it. Dipper’s jaw dropped, horrified, as a series of images flashed before his eyes: Mabel, facing a horde of alien terrors alone, a sterile and lifeless landscape offering her no sort of refuge. The image disintegrated just as the beasts encroached on her, with the ghost of her screams filling Dipper’s ears.

“I CAN’T SAY I KNOW MUCH ABOUT HAVING SIBLINGS, BUT IT SEEMS TO ME THAT IF YOU HAD A CHANCE TO SPARE SHOOTING STAR FROM ALL THAT, YOU WOULD. OH WELL, I SHOULD HAVE FIGURED YOU’D BE SO QUICK TO GIVE UP ON HER, SINCE THE REST OF YOUR FAMILY SEEMS TO BE MADE OF QUITTERS! BIRDS OF A FEATHER I GUESS!”

Dipper’s head still swam with what he’d just seen, it was hard to think straight. And yet a persistent, visceral reaction swam to his lips.

“You can’t trick me again Bill, I’ll never work with you!”

“MAYBE NOT NOW, BUT YOU’LL FIGURE OUT SOON ENOUGH THAT THE PORTAL’S NO EASY COOKIE TO CRUMBLE, PINE TREE. IF YOU HAVE ANY BRAIN AT ALL INSIDE THAT HILARIOUSLY FRAGILE SKULL OF YOURS, YOU’LL SEE THAT I’M THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN GET YOUR SISTER BACK.”

The triangular figure began to glide back toward the window until the moonlight was totally eclipsed by it.

“JUST DON’T WAIT TOO LONG TO MAKE UP YOUR MIND, PINE TREE! SHOOTING STARS BURN BRIGHT BUT THEY DON’T BURN FOR LONG! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA”

In the blink of an eye, the blue and black hues of night had returned to the world, and Dipper was left alone, clutching to his chest the journal he had thought was the one chance he had of getting his sister back.

However, his steadfast determination could not change the fact that, as he closed his eyes fruitlessly to sleep, the mocking image of a golden triangle seemed to dance on and on.

Chapter Text

A cool, misty breeze tossed Mabel’s hair back from her face as she landed deftly in front of the open portal, her uncle not a step behind her. A few weeks of dwelling in the peaceful nook of the seaside caves had done wonders for her health, and there was a familiar sparkle back in her eyes that Ford had been relieved to see once again.

Mabel’s uncle held up a hand to shade his eyes as he took in their new surroundings, the wind whipping his long coat back from him.

“Hmm, as I suspected,” he murmured. “That last dimension wasn’t exactly a metropolis, which worked well for our needs, but that means it probably had a low chance of connecting to any dimensions with much activity either. Too bad, I would have liked to stock up on some supplies...”

 They both surveyed the uninhabited landscape in front of them: windblown, scrubby moss stretched into a wide plain over black volcanic stone, ashy foothills rising on the horizon. Pearly clouds hung low in the sky, their misty forms ever changing with the persistent breeze. Pulling their warmer clothes from Ford’s pack, the two of them started briskly across the expanse.

“I’ll miss the giant birds, but I’m glad we got to see some babies hatch before we left!” Mabel exclaimed. Ford nodded along, not sharing the fact that the appearance of the offspring had solidified his notion to leave the spot behind. Though the birds had left him and Mabel alone all those weeks, he had a feeling the two of them would become infinitely more appetizing with more mouths to feed.

The solitary weeks had helped soothe the terror of their experience with the Collector; sunlit days watching the birds soar had been just what Mabel needed. He’d believed what he’d told his niece; Ford truly believed the Collector to be far behind them. But life in the multiverse often means trading one danger in for another , he thought wryly, habitually throwing a glace over his shoulder to ensure that they really were alone. The lonely wind whistled in his ear in response.

On they trekked through the mossy plain, hands gloved against the increasing windchill. The babble of a small stream caught their attention as they drew nearer to the foothills. Following it, Ford sighed in relief as he caught the sparkle of light dancing on the water. 

“Ah, a place to refill the canteens,” he breathed, a small weight off his shoulders. As he knelt to submerge the canteen beneath the surface, a gasp from Mabel had him back his feet before he could even blink, hands already going for his gun.

“What is it?” He huffed urgently, scanning the horizon in the direction his niece's finger was pointed. 

“I think… I think it’s a tent!” Mabel exclaimed softly, a mix of excitement and trepidation playing in her young voice. 

Sure enough, a flash of dull tan against the black outcropping of boulders ahead.

Ford squinted at the sight, assessing. “Perhaps this place isn’t as empty as we first thought. A solitary tent… I imagine the occupant is harmless enough, and may even have supplies to trade.” He glanced down at Mabel, the memory of the Collector’s hands at her shoulder all to clear in his mind. “Let’s approach, but you trail behind me, understand?” 

Mabel gave a curt nod of understanding in response, caution being overshadowed by the curiosity in her eyes.

Moving deftly, the pair made their way for the tent, Mabel following closely behind her uncle. As they drew nearer, Ford halted to judge the sight. The tent was reasonably large but sagging with age, holes worn through more than one piece of fabric. A small fire pit lay in front, the last embers burned out ages ago. Ford’s shoulders relaxed slightly at the site.

“It looks like this place was abandoned some time ago,” he declared, giving Mabel’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “Though it’s worth checking to see if anything useful was left behind,” he followed, cocking his head to the slumping shelter.

Mabel now aligned herself beside Ford as they approached the tent, eagerly inching her head forward as he drew back the flap of the door.

A startled shriek escaped her as she saw what was inside.

Languishing atop a cot, a skeleton stared back in greeting, the jawbone hanging low as if laughing at them.

“Not quite abandoned then…” Ford said tightly, shooting a look down at Mabel. “I know it’s frightening, but the dead can’t typically hurt you. Unless it’s you’re talking zombies,” he quipped, pointer finger shooting into the air. Seeing Mabel’s uncomfortable face, he hastily added, “of which this does not appear to be the case.” His voice softened, “Are you comfortable going in there quickly just to see if there’s anything we can use? Otherwise you can stay just outside the tent while I have a look?” he offered.

Mabel squared her small shoulders. “It just startled me, that’s all,” she proclaimed brightly, not wanting to appear unable to handle the situation. “I’ll go in with you!”

Ford gave a small nodd, holding the door open wider for her. 

The air within the tent was stale with years of decay and disuse. Aside from the cot which acted as the skeleton’s final resting place, not much remained besides tattered blankets and a couple sagging set of shelves displaying rusted odds and ends. Mabel lingered near the door while Ford moved to investigate, squinting her eyes in the dim light.

Though she was actively making an effort to avoid looking directly at the skeleton, a slight movement in her periphery made her turn toward it. A sort of… shimmering of the air seemed to dance directly above the deceased’s skull. Squinting, she rubbed her eyes and cocked her head to the side, scrutinizing the empty air. 

Seconds passed with no further motion from the skull; the dead eye sockets staring into her own caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. Rubbing her eyes once more, Mabel resumed her spot at Ford’s side as he approached the second dust coated set of shelves, having apparently found nothing of use in the first.

While her uncle methodically began to scan the contents of the top shelf, Mabel eyed the one at her own shorter level. Most of whatever the shelf had once held had now rusted into useless oblivion; patchy brown pieces of metal and old fraying bits of rope lay between piles of dust. 

Her scanning eyes doubled back as they glimpsed the sparkle of something with the slightest bit of polish to it, dim in the shaded light of the tent. Grimacing as she reached her hand into the dusty depths, her eyes widened as she retrieved a delicately-formed metal box. Using the sleeve of her coat, she rubbed away the ages of grime on the lid to reveal a string of lettering in a language she didn’t recognize.

“Find anything useful?” Her uncle inquired, eyes dancing with the light of curiosity.

“I think it’s some kind of jewelry box or something,” the girl breathed with excitement. Mabel began to lift the lid on its hinge as Ford leaned in to inspect.

Ford’s amused eyes widened with alarm as a soft clicking noise wound its way from the box’s inner workings. Arms shooting forward, he swiped the box out of his bewildered niece’s palm; it clattered to a landing back on the shelf as Ford pushed Mabel back toward the tent door. Before Mabel had a chance to cry out, her uncle hissed as a shining metal dart shot into the back of his forearm.

A small thread of smoke drifted from the hidden silo in the box’s exterior.

Ford rose shakily from his knees, sucking breath between his clenched teeth. Her face a mask of shock, Mabel sprang to his side, her hand going to her uncle’s elbow to lead him out of the tent and into the light of day. 

The watery light glinted harshly from the sliver of metal now protruding from the back of Ford’s right arm, dark blood already beginning to soak the surrounding sleeve. Mabel’s heart iced over with dread and guilt at the sight.

“I, Grunkle Ford I’m so sorry, that was so stupid of me!” she cried, voice cracking. “Are you okay? How can we get that out? What was that??” 

Ford gingerly seated himself on a nearby boulder, cautiously unshouldering his pack. Drawing his punctured arm closer to his face for inspection, he sucked in a pained breath as the sleeve tugged at the dart.

“Don’t blame yourself Mabel, I should have exercised more caution myself,” he breathed. “I only caught a slight glimpse of that lettering on the box, but knowing what we know now I can confidently guess that it was a Culvertina Farewell. They were all the rage in one dimension full of a scheming court of politicians,” he explained as he retrieved a utility tool from some hidden inner coat pocket. “Pretty nasty little thing, the recipient pulls it near their face to read the inscription, so that when the box is opened the dart can go for the throat --” he halted as he saw his niece blanche. 

Ford cleared his throat. “Knowing that, I had to get you out of the way before the same fate could befall you. I am sorry about that shove back there,” he winced apologetically. 

Mabel swallowed, a hand unconsciously fluttering to her neck. “How do we get that out of you?” she half-whispered, unable to take her eyes from the protruding end of the metal dart.

Her uncle set his shoulders and began to delicately saw with the knife tool away at the fabric surrounding the dart, until a neat slit in the coat sleeve revealed the spot where metal bit into skin. Ford drew a deep breath. 

“Well, to answer the ‘how’, our medical options are unfortunately limited as we used most of our first aid supplies before we could restock”, he murmured, thinking aloud. “So, I suppose we just have to do this the old fashioned way.”

Before Mabel could comment on what that meant, Ford flicked the tweezers extension from his utility tool and gripped the dart where it sank into his arm. 

The girl’s hands flew to her mouth in horror as her uncle wrenched the metal from his skin. Ford tried and failed to fully muffle the agonized scream that escaped him, the dart clattering to the rocky ground as soon as it was out.

Mabel’s hands shot out to steady her uncle as he doubled over, heaving heavy breaths. After a few moments, he slowly righted himself, the blood drained from his face. Mabel couldn’t help but look down to the dart that had seconds ago been buried in Ford’s skin… her stomach dropped as she saw how long it trully was; it had probably buried itself almost halfway through his forearm.

Ford shifted and began to roll up his now torn right sleeve to expose the circular puncture wound which was now bleeding freely. He let out a shaky breath as his brows drew together. “What a time to be out of gauze,” he murmured to himself, eyes glassy.

Hearing this, Mabel didn’t waste a second as her hands flew to her head. Hastily, she worked to remove the stretch of fabric that acted as her headband. “Here Grunkle Ford, give me your arm,” she demanded, gently stretching his bloodied arm in front of her.

“Mabel you don’t have to do that, I’m sure we can find --” his words trailed off at the look she gave him. 

Frowning with concentration, she tightly wound the dark fabric several times around her uncle’s arm. She was so focused on her work that she didn’t notice as Ford’s eyes crinkled tenderly when she finished the knot with a dainty bow, as if tying a gift.

Satisfied with her work, Mabel put her hands on her hips. “As your doctor, I think the best thing for you to do now is rest,” she declared, the slight fear in her eyes dispelling the joking haughtiness of her voice.

Ford gave a small chuckle and sighed. “I think you’re right, doctor,” he said, “but I’d prefer if we found our own camp rather than hang around this place”. Mabel gave a declarative nod, her hand slipping wordlessly into Ford’s as he shouldered the pack and rose to his feet.

The wind was truly howling and hissing as they made their way into the field of boulders at the foot of the craggy hills; Mabel didn’t say a word as she repeatedly scraped her hair away from her face. Hours later, as the light began to die, the pair settled for an outcropping that was more shielded from the wind than any of the others they’d come across. Ford dug a small fire pit as Mabel laid out what bedding they had. After they’d eaten of the food they’d collected from the last dimension, an exhausted silence settled over the both of them.

“How’s your arm?” Mabel asked, eyes darting to meet Fords as she stoked the fire.

“It’s seen better days,” Ford sighed. “But it’s also seen much worse. The good news is the bleeding has stopped.” 

“That’s great to hear,” Mabel said sleepily, relief flooding her eyes. She edged closer to where Ford sat propped against the rocky wall, curling up into his left side. 

“Grunkle Ford,” she whispered after a thoughtful few moments. “That skeleton in the tent today… do you think he died all alone?”

Ford shifted to accommodate his niece. “That’s a sad reality for many interdimensional wanderers, unfortunately. It looked like perhaps he at one point had been a merchant of some sort, it can be a lonely life.”

“I’m glad neither of us is alone,” Mabel said softly, her eyes fluttering shut with fatigue.

Ford brushed her hair back from her sleeping face as her breaths grew heavy and even. “I’m glad, too”, he whispered.

Noting that his niece was definitely asleep, Ford angled his right arm to the dying embers of firelight. He stifled a yelp as he peeled back the makeshift bandage to reveal skin that was hot to the touch underneath.

The warm firelight illuminated the angry red spiderweb pattern, beginning to blossom from the wound.

Chapter Text

Ford was jolted from restless sleep by the searing heat radiating from his right forearm. Rubbing the fatigue from his wincing eyes, he involuntarily groaned as he worked to sit up from the cold ground.

“Everything okay?” chirped Mabel’s voice from across their small campsite. Her hand hung suspended in midair, a silver sewing needle glinting from it. In her lap lay Ford’s coat; small, even stitches now closed the still-bloodstained tear in the right sleeve.

Ford’s head pounded as his eyes met the watery daylight, a cold sweat beaded across his brow. “I rolled the wrong way onto my arm is all,” he said in a gravelly voice. Before he could cough to clear what felt like ages of dust in his throat, Mabel was at his right side, still clutching his coat in her hands.

A gasp escaped her as she took in the angry crimson pattern now working its way past the confines of the homemade bandage.

“Grunkle Ford, this looks really bad,” an alarmed frown contorted her brow as she met his eyes. “ You’re looking really bad -” 

“Mabel, I’m alright for right now,” he interjected, trying in vain to calm his niece. He glanced down at his wound, where the red spiderwebbing pattern had creeped far enough to reach the rolled up sweater sleeve at this elbow. “I do feel it would be in our best interest if we could perhaps find our way out of this dimension and into a more urban one,” he said, cringing as his fingers brushed the skin of his arm. “I don’t foresee us stumbling upon any medical supplies here.”

Mabel gave a fierce nod in agreement before remembering the coat and needle she clenched in either hand. Snipping the remaining thread against her teeth, she sheepishly handed the coat over to her uncle.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I haven’t had anything to sew in a while and it’s too cold for you to be walking around with a hole in your coat, and…” she trailed off as he took it from her and pulled the sleeve up to inspect the work. 

A gentle smile emerged onto his pained face as he noticed the small embroidered hearts that bookended the line of stitches. 

“It’s fine work, Mabel,” he swallowed the emotion threatening his steady voice. “This is very thoughtful, thank you.”

She leaned in to hug him, pulling back with worry as she felt how warm he’d become. 

“I’ll start packing,” she declared, not wasting another moment.

_______________________________________________________________

On a good day, the pair could be packed up and ready to move within a matter of minutes. Today had not been a good day.

Ford had struggled, the pounding in his head intensified upon standing; it had taken several minutes for him to steady his breathing and work his injured arm into his newly mended coat. Mabel had made quick work of the actual packing, and now walked alongside her laboring uncle, acting as a crutch for his uneven steps when needed.

The sky remained swathed in pewter clouds, the wind snapped at their coats in brutal gusts as they picked their way across the rocky terrain, no evidence of another portal in sight.

Agony scorched through Ford’s arm with every step. His body was quickly becoming soaked in clammy sweat despite the chill temperature, and to his deep despair, his very mind had started to become foggy and disjointed. He knew without a doubt that he was fading quickly.

Panicked thoughts swam their way through his pounding head. She’ll be alone, there will be no one here to help her after I’m gone, I promised I’d take care of her… Silent tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, swept away by the cruel wind.

It was all Mabel could do to try and guide her ailing uncle’s steps forward, her eyes frantically scanning every rock, every horizon for signs of portals.

“Just a bit further, I bet there’s one just up ahead,” she called over the wind for the fifth time, her voice trilling with desperate optimism. Ford merely gave her hand a weak squeeze in response.

After two hours of agonizingly fruitless wandering, Mabel halted their progress as they came upon the stony banks of a rushing river. Ford swayed where he stood, hardly seeming to register the reason they’d stopped.

Easing her uncle down to sit atop a flat boulder, Mabel hastily removed their canteens from the pack. 

“I’m just going to fill these up really super fast, and then I’ll be right back,” she stammered, her face drawing tight with worry at her uncle’s sickly pallor.

Ford’s glassy, vacant eyes contorted into a distressed frown. “Have you seen where my niece has gone?” he croaked in response, eyes staring through her. “I promised she wouldn’t be alone…” his voice trailed into a slur of syllables.

Mabel’s eyes went wide. She swallowed and gripped the canteens, rushing for the river bank to make quick work of the task. She had barely knelt to dip the container beneath the surface when a heavy thud sounded from behind her…

Ford had collapsed to the ground.

______________________________________________________________

He was running through a twilight maze, or trying to, it seemed as though his legs were mutinously shirking every command he gave them. Looming shadows and glowing eyes blipped in and out, watching him, hunting him. Every demon and beast he’d ever encountered in 30 years, dead set on his capture. With every other step he swore he could feel something sinister grasping for his arms, legs, back, just missing every time. How long could his luck hold? His breath was ragged, dry, his whole body felt ready to combust…

At long last he burst into a dark, cavernous chamber, sparks of electricity arcing this way and that through the air. The shimmering blue light of the portal glowed to life, profiling the back of  a figure of almost his exact frame and height.

Chest aching with each breath, he approached the familiar figure, fear and remorse twinging down his spine as he saw the fiery glow of a strange geometric pattern singed into the figure’s shoulder blade.

“St-Stanley?” Ford heaved.

His brother jerked around to face him with an unsteady sort of grace, eyes piercing.

Glowing, yellow eyes.

“LONG TIME NO SEE, OLD PAL,” the booming, mocking voice poured from his brother’s body.

Ford recoiled, stumbling to the ground as his exhausted legs finally gave out on him.

“YOU THREW EVERYTHING AWAY FOR THIS MACHINE! EVERYTHING IN YOUR LIFE, INCLUDING YOUR LIFE!” the voice continued to boom from Stanley’s mouth.

“No, Bill never got to you, this can’t be…” Ford breathed in terror, his eyes locked on the yellow pair in front of him.

“AND YET,” the demonic voice continued, ignoring him, “YOUR MACHINE STILL HUNGERS.”

A terrified sob echoed throughout the room as Stanley-Bill yanked someone forward from the shadows, a small girl in a pink sweater…

“No!” Ford wheezed. “NO!”

The puppet of his brother’s body grinned maniacally as he flung the lever beside him with a flourish, the machine behind him whirring with power. 

“Grunkle Ford, please! Help me!” his niece’s voice shrieked over the roar of the portal.

His legs, his blasted legs, remained useless on the ground, he could only watch helplessly in horror as his brother dragged Mabel kicking and sobbing to the foot of the machine. 

“YOUR GREED FOR ANSWERS BUILT THIS MACHINE,” bellowed that awful voice, “AND THOSE YOU LOVE WILL FEED IT.”

Mabel’s screams rang through his entire being as she was pitched into the portal.

Mabel flinched as another ragged cry escaped her uncle. After his collapse at the riverbank, she’d dragged him as far as she could to one of the many surrounding rocky hollows, adrenaline and fear giving her the strength she needed. It was not an ideal campsite, but she knew that she simply didn’t possess the strength to take him any further.

The merciless wind had not faltered, the chill air bit at her face as she’d hastily taken every blanket and fur their pack contained and covered Ford against the elements. His body now shuddered with bouts of shivering; he’d begun weakly thrashing and yelping out senseless words at random increments.

She sat beside his head, using the edge of a blanket to wipe the clammy sweat from his brow. “I’m right here Grunkle Ford, I’m not going anywhere,” she assured in a wavering voice. 

“I- I’ll give- Please I’ll give anything,” Ford panted, tossing his head jerkily.

Guilt wracked her entire heart as he muttered a string of broken pleas, his eyes screwed shut.

“I’m so sorry, this is my fault, you wouldn’t be like this if I hadn’t been poking around where I wasn’t supposed to,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

Pausing to pass the fabric once more over his forehead, Mabel scooted over to where their pack lay and began desperately rifling through every pouch and pocket, looking for anything that resembled medicine. As the seconds passed, the remaining odds and ends of the pack lay strewn about her, nothing among the contents being medically useful. Choking back a whimper, she double checked, triple checked, faced with the fact that she had nothing which could help her ailing uncle.

Another pained whimper escaped Ford; Mabel dragged her hands through her hair, clawing desperately for any idea of what she could do to help him.

Without warning, an image of the abandoned tent filled her mind.

“That skeleton was a merchant,” she breathed, thoughts careening. “He, maybe there’s something in that tent that we didn’t find, something that could help!”

The idea was not an appealing one, but as she cast a forlorn look around their own hastily made camp, her heart sank as she realized it was her only viable option at present. 

Quietly, Mabel assembled the strewn contents of the pack as neatly as she could back inside of it, dragging it to Ford’s side to act as a buffer between him and the nearest rock wall. With quick, deliberate movements, she readied herself for the trek.

Drawing her coat close around her, she knelt down beside her uncle once more.

“Grunkle Ford, I’m going to look for help,” she huffed with determination, wincing at his shallow breathing. “I’ll be right back as soon as I can, and I promise to try and take care of myself,” she ran on, her words becoming more desperate. “Try and be okay when I get back, alright?”

She leaned down to give him a final ginger hug, making sure to avoid his injured arm. “I love you,” she whispered. Taking a deep breath, she stood and strode quickly out into the wind.

__________________________________________________________________________

Finding her way back to the dilapidated tent had not proven to be an issue; Ford had diligently taught her many survival skills while they’d recuperated amongst the seaside cliffs, and had impressed upon her the importance of keeping track of landmarks while exploring new dimensions.

Finding her way to the tent had not been a problem, even if it had taken longer than she’d liked… the afternoon light was just beginning to slip.

 Mustering the courage to enter the tent was another matter.

“Okay Mabel, get a grip,” she hyped herself up. “You’ve faced waaaay worse than a dusty old skeleton. Just get in, look for anything that looks like medicine, and then get back to Ford. Piece of cake!”

She dragged the tent flap back and pinned it open under the weight of a fist sized rock, letting the light filter inside.

Had it only been a little over a day since she’d been here before? It felt a lifetime. 

Taking a deep breath, she hurried past the deceased occupant and began scanning the lower, unexamined shelves of the book case, not daring to reach a hand in without reason this time. Mere inches away sat the Culvertina Farewell, a stark reminder of what was at stake. 

To her growing dread, the shelves contained nothing resembling medical supplies. Growing desperate, she hurried to inspect the tent’s corners, the floor, everywhere… all empty. She gulped in a breath, trying to stay calm. Blinking, she gathered her courage and sank to the floor, peering under the skeleton’s cot. Nothing but empty air.

She couldn’t help it, the emotional dam cracked. Mabel remained on the ground heaving quiet sobs, images of her dying uncle flashing before her eyes. This had been a last chance hope, and in her optimism she hadn’t imagined what would happen if it failed.

“It’s all my fault.. It’s all my fault…” she wept bitterly.

“It sounds like you could be in need of help, young one…” a faint whisper breathed above her.

Mable gasped, shooting to her feet away from the cot.

She watched, mouth agape, as the air shimmered at the head of the skeleton, an amorphous cloud taking shape above it. Remaining mostly translucent, two glowing white eyes appeared at the center of the cloud, peering at her with an amused look.

“What- what are you?” Mabel stammered, gazing into those eyes.

“Well, in most civilized cultures the question would be ‘who are you’,” tittered the voice. “My name is Sottis.”

Giving an awkward cough, Mabel attempted to compose herself. “Are you the ghost of that skeleton?” she asked, making a futile attempt at politeness. 

Sottis scoffed. “No. That unfortunate fellow and I were… traveling companions of a sort, yes.” Dramatically, the voice lilted, “It’s been very difficult for me, all alone since his demise…but lucky for me that you’ve come along, now, isn’t it?” The eyes seemed swept theatrically back and forth, sweeping the room. “Say now, I seem to recall you having a companion of your own, what’s become of them?”

Still reeling from the fact that she was conversing with a pair of disembodied eyes, Mabel swallowed back tears before answering. “He, he’s sick, that box there, the… Farewell? I accidentally set it off and he got shot in the arm, and now he’s… he’s…” she stumbled over her words.

“Ah, the old Culvertina, my companion there was fond of such little oddities. It wasn’t the source of his demise of course, poor fellow just got old ,” Sottis groaned, as if commenting on a minor inconvenience. “Pesky things, corporeal forms, despite their advantages.”

Mabel glanced with pity at the skeleton on the cot, then back to the white set of glowing eyes.

“Do you know if he had any medicine? If there’s anything here that could help someone with a fever?” she asked desperately.

“Hmmm…” clucked the voice, “I don’t believe he can help you in this matter. I on the other hand…” he drawled, eyes suddenly fixed on her, “Well, I believe an arrangement could be made.”

Mabel’s heart skipped a beat. “You can help me? Can you do it quick? I don’t know how much time there is-”

“Now now, a little agreement must be made first… just formalities you understand,” the voice breezed, the nonchalant tone seeming to mask something more intense. Mabel stared, feeling every wasted second.

“Anything, please, anything to help him!” she cried out.

“As you can see, I myself am lacking such a corporeal form as would allow me to move about my surroundings freely,” Sottis sighed melodramatically. “That is why my former companion and I were so...close. We had a little agreement as well… he found himself in a pinch in his younger years and I agreed to use my unique abilities to patch him up, and in return I was granted a ride in his body, simple terms,” the being seemed to shrug. “In the context of your little situation, yes, I have full confidence in my abilities to restore your companion,” the girl’s heart leapt at the words.

“I would only need to make use of your physical form for a bit, that’s all.”

Mabel’s stomach froze. “You’re talking about possessing my body?” she said in horror. Images flashed back to her, of her own brother, his body not his own, the things he’d been forced to do.

“It seems a small price to pay to save the life of someone you care about,” tsked the voice. “Especially since you’re the one who put him in this situation to begin with, hmm?”

Mabel blanched. 

“You said ‘for a bit’, so not forever? Just long enough to heal Ford?”

The eyes seemed to grin. “As I said, just a bit.”

Mabel’s heart pounded, counting every second that passed, her mind flashing with images of Ford feverish and in pain, dying.

“So, do we have a deal?” Sottis purred.

Mabel gulped. Only for a bit.

“It’s a deal.”