The next time Mabel opened her eyes, Dipper was by her side.

Morning sunlight streamed weakly through the diamond-shaped window on the front door, throwing sparkly spots onto the wall. Mabel squinted. She felt drowsy, fuzzy, like it should still be night and dark outside.

"Morning, Mabes!"

Mabel blinked as she looked at Dipper, still not used to the light. "Morning, I guess. Why is the sun so bright?"

He laughed. "So I can see you, of course."

Mabel let out a laugh of her own, but it was far less cheerful than Dipper's. "I'm not much to look at right now."

"Yes you are!" Dipper sat on the edge of the couch. "Any day you have brown eyes is a good day to look at you."

Mabel gave him a small smile, but it faded quickly. "I — I haven't — I mean — I've had brown eyes since — "

"Yes," Dipper said firmly, taking her hand. His was colder than hers, but she didn't mind. "You've had brown eyes since Saturday."

Mabel settled her head back onto her pillow and looked up at the ceiling in silence.

She'd had more dreams last night, but she didn't remember much of them. Just blue fire. . . blue fire, and Bill's laughter. . .

"Dipper. . . ," Mabel whispered, "why did I let it happen?"

Dipper's grip on her hand slackened a bit. "Because you weren't thinking clearly," he said softly. "Because you made a mistake. Because like Ford said, Bill can get to even the best of us."

Mabel laughed bitterly. "Well, I'm definitely not the best of us, so I guess that makes sense."

"What?" Dipper asked immediately, sounding shocked. "Why would you say that?"

She glanced down her nose at him without raising her head. "Because it's true."

There was a beat of silence. "Mabes, I know you think you're weak — "

"I am."

" — but you're not!"

"Yes, I am!" She sat up, pulling her hand out of Dipper's and bracing herself with her elbow. "You don't know! You haven't been there! I know you're just trying to be nice to me because of what happened Saturday — "

"Of course I'm not," Dipper said, sounding hurt. "Aren't I usually nice to you?"

She fell quiet for a moment. "Well, yeah, but you're obviously trying hard now. And I appreciate it — "

"Maybe losing my sister made me realize how much I love her, have you thought of that?" Dipper shot back.

Now she was quiet for longer than a moment as all sorts of emotions and memories rushed through her.

Dipper reached for her hand. She pulled it back.

"I lost you, too," she said.

"I know."

"No," she said. "I lost you, too, and you know what I did?"

"You tried to save me. But then Ford and. . . " Dipper trailed off.

"Gideon," Mabel finished firmly.

"They sabotaged you. It wasn't your fault."

"It was my fault for trusting them. And you know who else I almost trusted? You know what I did?"

Dipper watched her with a strange expression on her face.

"I almost made a deal with Bill, that's what!"

Now Dipper looked confused. "When I was kidnapped?"

"He showed up after Gideon left and told me he'd help me rescue you. Well, Ford said that, and Gideon said that, and I trusted them, and they betrayed me, and yet I was ready to trust Bill, too, to save you — I was so stupid — "

"But you didn't make a deal with him," Dipper cut in. "You didn't fall for it."

"I did!" Mabel shouted. "I was about to shake his hand! But Ford woke me up before I could. I've fallen for Bill's tricks twice, Dipper. Only dumb luck saved me that first time. Luck and other people, that's all it is."

"Whatever!" Dipper said.

"Oh yeah?" She sat up straighter, desperate to prove her point. "You and Ford saved me from the ghost. I didn't help fight the shapeshifter at all. You saved yourself from Pacifica, even after everything — "

"You did so help fight the shapeshifter! You shot off its tongue!"

"Like that did anything to help. And then, after all that, Gideon Northwest has saved me at least four times — "

"Four?" Dipper said incredulously. "Yeah right!"

"The time with the clones, the first time with Pacifica — "

"He saved Pacifica, not us!"

" — the second time with Pacifica — "

"Mabel!" Dipper grabbed her by the shoulders. "Do you even hear yourself? He didn't save you at all! He betrayed you that time!"

" — and down in the bunker," Mabel finished quietly, staring at a spot in the distance just over Dipper's ear.

He released her shoulders and sat back. "That's right," he said. "You said something about hallucinating him down in the bunker."

"I didn't hallucinate him," Mabel said grimly. "He was down there. Dunno how he did it, but he was. He saved me from Shifty before you all showed up. And he almost stole the Journal again. . . but he didn't."

Dipper frowned. "Did he actually save you, or — ?"

Mabel sighed in exasperation. "Yes, he did. He used his amulet to get Shifty off me when he was attacking me."

Dipper looked away, then back at her. "Listen. Mabes. It doesn't matter what's happened. Everyone needs to be saved sometimes. But you are brave, and you're not a bad person or anything just because you got tricked."

"But — "

"And," he said over her, "you should stop thinking about Gideon."

"Gideon agrees that I'm weak."

Dipper folded his arms. "Yeah, well, Gideon Northwest is the worst. And that's not just jealousy talking. I'd say that to his face."

He said it in a serious tone, but with a joking edge to it, and it somehow made Mabel laugh. How did he do that?

"Well, fine," Mabel said. "Gideon Northwest is the worst."

"Darn right he is. Which is why you shouldn't listen to him."

"Morning, guys!" Hinges squeaked as Robbie Corduroy popped his head in through the door to the gift shop. "Dip, you wanna help me get the shop ready for the day? Feeling okay, Mabel?"

"Yeah," Mabel said. What else was she supposed to say?

Dipper hopped up from the couch. "If I go help Robbie, will you promise to only think positive thoughts in here?"

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Sure, I'll try." It wouldn't work, though. Did he think she could just turn positive thoughts on like a lightbulb?

"Try," Dipper said. He reached for her hand again, and she didn't pull away this time, but she also didn't wrap her fingers around his. "I'll be back soon," he said. "Are you hungry? If I see Melody I'll tell her."

She said all the things she was supposed to say until both Robbie and Dipper had left the room. Then she lay back on the couch with a big sigh.

She was exhausted. Not physically so much, that was getting better — but exhausted from nobody listening to her, nobody seeing her as she really was. She knew Dipper was just trying to make her feel better, but it wasn't exactly working.

She sighed again. She was so done with being upset about everything, even her brother being nice to her. Her emotions made no sense. Weary numbness settled around her mind as thoughts raced around and around in her head, always moving, but touching her consciousness less and less, until she was barely aware of time passing, barely aware of what she was thinking at all.

There was a sharp knock at the door.

Mabel shot up, her mind snapping into the present and her pulse snapping into hyperspeed. Anger flared through her at whoever thought it was okay to make such a loud, sudden noise. She glared at the door for a minute before she realized that no one was coming to open it.

"Melody?" she called. "Dipper?"

But Melody must have been running a tour, because no one came to her aid. Mabel would have to get off the couch and answer the door.

Or she could just not.

She lay there for a minute, debating, until the door shuddered again with another knock.

"Fine, I'm coming!" she muttered, planting her feet onto the floor and standing up. Why did she have to answer the door? She hated answering the door. But no one else was here and obviously the person wasn't going to go away. She grabbed her headband off the side table, pushing her tangled hair out of her face with it, and straightened out the clothes she'd slept in so she at least looked somewhat decent.

Then she crossed the room, put her hand on the knob, sighed out her annoyance, and told herself to be nice to whatever townsperson was on the doorstep.

Mabel pulled open the door and came face to face with Gideon Northwest.

It wasn't until she'd slammed the door that Mabel realized what she'd done. Her eyes widened, and she leaned against the door, fighting to breathe. Gideon Northwest was on her doorstep, and she'd just — she'd just said the first thing that had popped into her head — Dipper had said Gideon was the worst — and — well — he was right —

Gideon knocked on the door again, startling Mabel away from it.

He was still there. What could she do? Why was he here? Why had she decided to answer the door?

"Mabel, I can hear you breathing."

His voice was muffled, but it carried through the wooden door. Mabel flushed.

"I need your help," Gideon repeated.

"Go away!" Mabel shouted back.

There was a silence. Wait, was he actually leaving? Wait —

"I'll pay you," Gideon said.

Mabel flushed again, this time with anger. How dare he try to bribe her — who did he think he —

But then she remembered the theater.

The theater was charging her and Dipper for damages. Charges they couldn't pay, charges Melody and Ford couldn't pay. And it was Mabel's fault that the theater was ruined in the first place. It wasn't fair to anyone else to ask them for the money. But if Gideon Northwest was just going to show up and offer her money. . .

Hating herself, Mabel cracked open the door.

"Hello," Gideon said.

She almost slammed the door again as soon as she caught sight of his face. What was she doing?

"Just hear me out," he said, looking her in the one eye he could see through the small opening.

Mabel slowly eased the door open wider, looking Gideon square in the face and trying not to shiver in the cold winter air. She wouldn't let him intimidate her. "What's with the dumb sunglasses?"

The question didn't seem to faze him in the least. "The sun is bright."

Well, at least they agreed on that. Mabel was having a hard time keeping her eyes open in the sun's reflection on the snow. "Are you sure you're not in disguise in case someone sees you talking to us peasants?"

She imagined him rolling his eyes behind the sunglasses, though she had no way to know. "Would you like to hear my offer?"

She did, she really did. She had to know what was so important that Gideon came here asking for her help. But she had to keep it cool. "No, but I'm sure you'll tell me anyway."

Gideon raised an eyebrow from behind the sunglasses. "The uninterested act doesn't suit you, Pines."

Mabel glared at him. "Yeah, I guess that's your thing."

"Yeah, it is." He sighed and took off his sunglasses, sticking them in his pocket, revealing his hazel-grey eyes. "You're good with ghosts, right?"

Mabel blinked. "Um, yeah, I am. Why, do you have a haunting or something?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."

"And you can't just get rid of them yourself? You need my help?"

Gideon scowled. "I doubt you'll have a miraculous solution for me. I know what I'm doing. But my efforts haven't been working, and I thought maybe you could at least bring a new perspective."

Mabel had no idea what to make of this. So she played defensive and folded her arms. "If you really needed my help, you should at least ask nicely."

"I don't need your help, I — " Gideon stopped, closed his eyes, breathed in and out. "You're right," he said. "I'm sorry. I should ask nicely." He took another breath and looked her in the eyes. "Mabel, in return for whatever reasonable sum of money you wish, would you please assist me with ridding the Northwest Manor of ghosts?"

Something about this made Mabel very uncomfortable — well, everything about this made her uncomfortable, but there was a specific thing she couldn't put her finger on.

Gideon looked chagrined at her hesitation. "I'm sorry, is this too forward?"

Realization hit her like a train wreck. "Is this — " she choked out in a strangled voice. "Are you asking me on a date?"

Gideon's entire body went stiff, his eyes wide, his fingers curled. "What — no — absolutely not! I simply heard you were good with ghosts and thought maybe you were willing to — hire your services — no, this is absolutely not a — you know, never mind, I shouldn't have — "

"No, I — I actually do need to, um, hire my services," Mabel said carefully. "There was an accident, and we're sort of being sued for, um, damages done to, um, a building. If I helped you, could you cover that?"

Gideon relaxed. "How much?"

"I don't know. A lot?"

"I'm sure I can cover it," Gideon said.

"Even if I can't help you with the ghosts? What if nothing works?"

"I'd still pay you," he promised. "I won't be surprised if it doesn't work. But I think you can raise our chances."

Mabel tried not to react to the compliment, if that's what it was. Something about this was wrong, some other reason she shouldn't agree to help Gideon. He was a wild card, unpredictable. The last time she'd seen him, he'd acted strangely, acted in a way Mabel had never seen from him before. He'd. . .

And it hit her.

She stood up straighter, buoyed by a sudden rush of anger. Of course. Of course he was just conning her, just trying to win her trust before —

Mabel brought as much ice into her voice as she could manage. "If this is a ploy to steal the Journal, it's not going to work."

Gideon scoffed. "Trust me, Pines, if I wanted your Journal, I'd have it by now."

Mabel's eyes went wide, then cold. She snatched the door handle and slammed the door in Gideon's face.

"Wait, Mabel!" he called. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that!"

Mabel didn't open the door, just stood there, staring at it, her breath caught in her throat, as Gideon knocked again.

"Come on, Pines. I promise I'm not after your Journal."

He kept knocking on the door, but Mabel was frozen.

"Didn't I give it back to you last time?" Gideon called.

He did. . . he could've taken it, but he'd given it back to her. . . he'd. . .

Mabel's hand tingled.

"Mabel, I'm sorry."

She steeled herself, put a hand on the knob, and flung the door open as fast as she could, hoping to startle Gideon and catch him off guard. His eyes widened a bit, but he didn't jump back.

"What were you doing down in the bunker?" Mabel demanded.

He stiffened again, but not as badly as last time. "I. . . I was looking for the first Journal. Just like you."

"You told me you were betraying someone. Who?"

Gideon blinked. "The shapeshifter, of course. Is this an interrogation, or are you going to agree to help me?"

She regarded him with suspicion. "I'm not bringing the Journal."

"You don't have to."

"And I'm only doing it for the money." She winced at how shallow that sounded. "But just because I need it to help fix the — "

"I understand."

They stared at each other for a moment, Mabel guarded and suspicious, Gideon calm and inscrutable.

"Fine," Mabel said.

Gideon relaxed slightly. "Thank you. Tomorrow from eight to noon is the best time. Will that work?" His tone said he was asking to be polite, but that it was really her only option.

"Y-yeah, sure, I guess." Should be enough time to prepare — emotionally as well as in research. Speaking of research. . . "What's going on? With the haunting."

Gideon sighed. "It's a long-term haunting, but we had a sort of truce with the ghosts. Until a few days ago, when they attacked my mother while she was getting ready in the bathroom. She told us the lights flickered and the ghosts wrote threats out on the mirrors. I believe they also have some telekinesis abilities."

"Basic haunting stuff," Mabel said. "But you haven't been able to get rid of them?"

"I've performed quite a lot of exorcisms and expulsions. I know how to work with ghosts. But no."

Mabel bit her lip in thought. "Okay. I'll look into it."

Gideon nodded. "Good. Well. Thank you, Mabel. I'll see you tomorrow morning, then. Be outside the gates at eight A.M."

He turned and walked smoothly down the porch steps.

Mabel's mouth opened and shut and then opened again. A word bubbled in the back of her throat, then died. She didn't actually know what she wanted to say. So instead she just stood there, the freezing winter air pulling bumps up from the skin on her arms as she watched Gideon walk away from her. He didn't look back, just took even steps through the snow until he reached the tree line and disappeared behind the pine needles.

"Mabel?"

She whirled around.

"What just happened?" Dipper asked.

Mabel took one more look over her shoulder — Gideon was nowhere to be seen — before closing the door behind her.

"Um," she said to her brother, "I don't actually know."

She walked back to the couch and sat down firmly on it, partly wishing she had never stood up in the first place. Partly wondering why she'd dare go work with ghosts when she had so recently been one.

And partly far more excited than she wanted to admit.

Art by Sorophora