Gideon plodded through the snow to the Pleasure household. He'd taken the back way through the woods; once he was out of sight, he'd used his magic to float Pacifica beside him like a strange balloon. She had fallen unconscious back in the clearing, but every once in a while she would cry out and thrash against his magic.

He could see the Pleasure house through the trees now. He lowered Pacifica back into his arms, though he kept his amulet on a low burn to alleviate some of her weight. Then he crossed the tree line and made his way to the back door.

The door opened before he could even knock. "Pacifica?" Bud Pleasure asked, his face pale.

Gideon turned his solemn expression on the man. "Where's her room?"

Wide-eyed, Bud gestured behind him.

Gideon edged past Bud into the house. He remembered, now, where things were, from when he had inhabited Pacifica's body some time ago.

It seemed like years had passed.

He went down the hallway to the bedroom that Bud kept ready for Pacifica in case she ever wanted to live with them again. Then he rolled Pacifica gently onto the bed, where she stirred and let out a soft breath.

Gideon turned to see Bud in the doorway. He moved past him again, gesturing back towards the main room. Bud followed in silence, easing the door shut behind him. Nobody spoke until they were back in the living room of the home.

"What happened?" Bud's voice was deathly quiet. Behind him, his wife Catherine seemed to fade into existence, her face whiter than usual.

Gideon took a breath. "Surely you know your daughter had powers. Powers that made her psychic, among other things."

"I-I suspected," Bud said. "But — had?"

"The amulet that gave her those powers is broken," Gideon said. "Gone."

Bud looked confused.

"Something about her amulet corrupted her mind," Gideon said. "She relied on her powers. Now that they're gone. . . it's like she's lost a part of her brain."

Bud's face went white. Then it flushed. His eyes narrowed. "And you would know this?"

Gideon tried to pretend that Bud wasn't looking at the amulet on his chest. "Yes," he said. He offered no further explanation. To be honest, he didn't know for sure. Gideon knew of no such corruption from his own amulet, but Pacifica's amulet came from the depths of a cave that was designed to contain magical artifacts. It could have exposed her to all kinds of magical damage.

"What. . . do we do?" Catherine whispered.

Gideon blinked. He hadn't expected her to say anything. He cleared his throat. "I don't know."

"But—" Bud started.

Gideon shook his head. "I know you have resources, Pleasure. Use them. I can't help you."

"How do I know this isn't your fault?" Bud demanded.

"It isn't," Gideon said. "I'm simply getting your daughter back to you safely." He turned to go. "Don't contact me. I was never here."

"Now, wait just a moment—!" Bud reached for Gideon's shoulder.

Gideon spun out of his grasp, staring him down. Bud took a step back.

"I didn't break your daughter, Bud Pleasure," said Gideon. "I have no responsibility to fix her."

Then he left.

~~~~~

"Where did you find it?"

Mabel sat next to Ford on the couch. The Journal was in her lap, and she had to resist holding it defensively to her chest. A fire blazed in the fireplace; it was the only source of light in the room aside from that of the entry way. Night had fallen, and a few hours had passed since the Fight for the Museum (as Mabel liked to think of it). It was just her and Ford: Dipper was asleep in the attic; Melody was in Ford's room. Mabel wanted to stay awake — at least long enough to talk to Ford about the Journal.

She shifted on the couch. "It was right after Dipper and I got attacked by the fairies," she began. "I leaned against a tree to rest, and it turned out to be metal. Like the one above the bunker. Dip and I pulled open this little compartment in the trunk, and there was a box inside with a lever on it. We pulled it, and another compartment opened in the ground. Inside of it was the Journal."

During her story, Ford watched at her, listening intently. When she finished, he steepled his fingers and pressed them under his chin. "That Journal was stolen from me thirty years ago," he said.

Mabel's eyes widened. "It was? Is th-that why—"

She stopped herself.

"What?" Ford asked.

"Why you stopped monster hunting?" Mabel finished, her voice small.

Ford pursed his lips. "It's one of the reasons, yes. Until you brought it out, I. . . had forgotten about it."

Mabel frowned. "Forgotten?"

Ford nodded, looking confused even as he spoke. "I would have searched the entire forest for it," he said. "Yet. . . I didn't even think about it. It just. . . slipped my mind." His frown deepened. "For thirty years."

"I'm sorry I didn't show you!" Mabel blurted, unable to keep it in any longer. "I should have, I just — I was scared you would take it away."

"I would have," Ford said. Then he softened. "I'm sorry I got so angry at you, Mabel," he said. "At a time when we needed to be unified, too. I shouldn't have reacted so strongly. I am sad you kept it from me, but. . . maybe you were right to."

Mabel blinked in surprise.

"I wouldn't have reacted any better before. But it seems like you've had some time with it. To study it?"

Mabel's eyes lit up, and she nodded. "I love it! It's so fascinating. All the things you found. . ."

Ford smiled at her. "I'm glad you're interested in that sort of thing." The smile faded. "I am going to take the Journal back, Mabel," he said softly.

"Wh-what?"

"Not permanently," he added. "But I need to look over it again, so that I can remember what's in there. Once I do that, I wouldn't mind letting you study it again. Is that all right?"

Mabel figured that it didn't matter whether she said yes or no, but she was touched that Ford at least asked how she felt about it. "Yeah," she said, smiling slightly. "Yeah, that's okay. If I can see it again."

"Of course."

She held out the Journal.

Ford took it and put it on his lap. "Thank you," he said. "And thank you for forgiving me."

"You too," Mabel replied around a yawn.

"You've had a crazy day," Ford said. "We all have. Why don't you head up to bed?"

Mabel nodded, yawning again. "Probably. . . a good idea."

The two stood up, and Mabel made her way up the stairs. She paused halfway and looked back.

"Good night, Grunkle Ford."

He smiled. It was small, but it was genuine. "Good night."

~~~~~

Mabel woke to the feeling of being shaken like a soda can.

"Mabel! Wake up!"

"Mm. . . get off me. . . ." She pushed the hands away and rolled over in her bed.

"Mabel! Come on, you've gotta wake up!" whispered Dipper.

Mabel moaned something unintelligible.

"Mabel, please, before it closes!"

She peeked an eye open. "Before what closes?" she mumbled.

"You just have to see. Come on!"

"Okay, okay, I'm up!" She sat up too fast and felt dizzy for a moment, then let herself get pulled to her feet by her twin. Squinting at him through the darkness, she asked, "How come you're awake?"

"Just come on!" was his response as he tugged on her arm.

She followed him across their attic room and out to the stairs. Dipper seemed to want to be fast, but also quiet. He shushed her multiple times, while simultaneously dragging her along.

"Dipper, what is going on?" she whispered as they stepped carefully onto the wooden stairs.

"I just got up to get some water," Dipper whispered back, "and I wasn't that tired, since I went to bed so early. But when I came downstairs, I saw a light under the gift shop door. There!"

They were far enough down the stairs that he could point across the living room at the gift shop door. Sure enough, a thin bar of light stretched across the crack at the bottom.

"What is it?" Mabel asked.

They stepped down off the stairs with a small creak. Dipper put his fingers to his lips and crept to the door. Mabel followed.

Whenthey made it to the door, Dipper silently turned the knob and pushed it open. "Coast is clear," he whispered.

"Clear of what?"

"Not what," Dipper said. "Who. Look."

He stepped through the doorway into the Mystery Museum gift shop. Mabel followed, thoroughly confused. What was giving off the light? Why was it in the gift shop?

"When I came in here," Dipper whispered, "I saw Ford go in there."

He pointed. Mabel followed his finger. Her eyes widened, and she grabbed Dipper's arm.

The vending machine hung on its hinges like a door, revealing a dimly lit staircase that descended underground.

There was a secret passageway under the Mystery Museum.

And Ford had left the door open.