Mabel Pines slept.

At first, it was a deep, solid sleep that started Saturday afternoon and ended late Sunday morning. A sleep that lasted eighteen hours. A sleep that was stopped only by a sudden and intense need to use the bathroom.

Mabel sat up on the couch, disoriented, wondering vaguely what time it was but infinitely more concerned with relieving herself. No one was around. She stood, waited a moment for the vertigo to pass, and staggered to the bathroom. Everything was fine until she was washing her hands, when she looked up, bleary-eyed, at the mirror.

And saw glowing yellow eyes looking back at her.

Mabel cried out and stumbled back, hitting her head against the wall and collapsing to the ground with a thud. She sat there, shaking, her hands dripping on the vinyl floor. She just sat there as the water from the tap ran and ran and ran.

She didn't know how long she trembled there on the cold bathroom floor. She wasn't even sure why she was so upset. Everything was fuzzy, everything was frightening, the world seemed so. . . strange. . .

"Mabel! Mabel!"

Someone was pounding on the door. Mabel started, sitting up straight and staring at the door, breathing heavily in the fear that comes from being unable to think clearly. The door rattled as someone jiggled the lock with one hand and pounded on it with the other.

Then the door swung open, and Mabel's twin brother Dipper burst inside.

"Mabel! Mabel, what happened?"

He turned off the tap and knelt down by her side, staring at her in the echoing silence.

"I was just using the bathroom," Mabel said. But her voice was hoarse, and her speech was thick, and —

And she suddenly realized just how much pain she was in, all over her body.

Dipper helped her get shakily to her feet. She tried to hold up her own weight as best she could, but it was hard. Her legs didn't seem to work right. She glanced at the bathroom mirror — not wanting to, but unable to stop herself — to find her eyes were the normal brown. She was just imagining things.

But then why did she still feel so afraid?

Mabel didn't get up off the couch much after that.

Melody Ramirez brought her food and, at her request, accompanied her to the bathroom. Robbie Corduroy came in to talk to her when she was awake. Dipper almost never left her side.

Stanford Pines was nowhere to be seen.

Or maybe he only came out when she was asleep — which was most of the time. Mabel's sleep faded in and out, deep and shallow, dreamless and filled with dreams.

The dreams. Sometimes they were only flashes of things: a yellow glow — a laptop screen — bright stage lights illuminating fuzzy figures dancing beneath. Other times, they were full reviews of her week of nightmares: staying up all night trying password after password and hearing BZZT! after BZZT! until she cried out for it to stop, but it never stopped, it just went on and on and on — standing in a dark room and jumping every time the shadows moved, fearing something that never showed its face — trying desperately to communicate with her brother, her uncle, anyone, waving her arms and shouting and crying but never getting their attention, never being able to touch them, never being anything but a ghost. . .

She always woke up from those dreams crying. She always woke up from those dreams in Dipper's arms, as he tried to calm her down and soothe her and tell her it was okay.

She tried to forget. But the dreams reminded her. They reminded her that there was no forgetting.

There was no forgetting the terror of being possessed by Bill Cipher.

Even thinking his name made her heart thump in her ears. She wished she didn't know it. She wished she'd never met him. She wished she'd never thought, for even a second, that shaking his hand was a good idea.

But the wishing did nothing, and all she could do was cry in Dipper's arms.

After so many days, Mabel got sick of being confined to the couch, where all she could do was cry or think or sleep — she'd tried to sketch, but she'd found herself doodling Cipher eyes everywhere, and it had terrified her so much that she hadn't picked up her sketchbook since. She complained to Dipper of her boredom, and Dipper convinced Melody to begrudgingly let Mabel hang out in the Mystery Museum gift shop, where Robbie sold trinkets to sluggish tourists.

"Hey, Mabel-kid, you're up!" Robbie called, waving at her. She waved back with a small smile and joined him at the checkout counter, pulling up a chair to sit next to him.

"You feeling better?" he asked.

"A little. I just didn't want to lie on the couch anymore." She was still bruised and battered — Bill had taken a sick pleasure in hurting Mabel's body while he was in it — but the soreness was just a dull background pain at this point. She mostly ignored it.

Dipper jumped onto the checkout counter and swung his heels into the wood. "How's business?"

Robbie shrugged. "Slow."

The three of them chatted idly for a while, until Mabel asked, "So are you two still helping with the set?"

Dipper and Robbie's faces both fell.

"Yeah," Robbie said, "but there's more damage than we originally thought. It's gonna take a while to fix. The show is probably going to have to be cancelled. And — " His eyes flicked to Dipper.

Dipper grimaced. "Mabes, I wasn't going to tell you, since you already have enough to deal with. . ."

"Tell me what?" Mabel asked, immediately on guard.

"Well. . . they fired me from the spotlighting. Anybody could have seen that coming. Although I don't know if it counts as 'firing,' since they weren't paying me in the first place. Either way, once I help finish with the set, I'm basically banned from the theater for life. You too."

"Oh, Dipper," Mabel said. She knew how much Dipper loved watching and listening to musicals. They both enjoyed it, but Dipper especially had been excited to help out with the local production of The Spectre of the Theatre. It had been going great — until Bill-Mabel, or Babel, had destroyed the set while trying to get to the Journal. The director, William Bartosic, hadn't known about the possession. To him, two punk kids had smashed into his stage on a chandelier and fought until everything was in ruins. It was no wonder Mabel and Dipper were banned now, but Mabel knew it must be hard on Dipper to be banned from anything.

"There's more," Dipper said hesitantly. "We. . . we also owe the theater for the damages."

Silence.

"How much?" Mabel whispered.

"Um, a lot," Dipper said. "I'm sure Ford will be able to handle it, though, right, Robbie?"

Robbie wouldn't meet either of their gazes, and suddenly Mabel was aware of how rundown and shabby the gift shop looked. Maybe Ford wasn't as successful as they'd thought.

"Maybe we can hold a lemonade stand or something," Dipper tried.

"It's the middle of winter."

"A hot chocolate stand, then."

Mabel buried her head in her hands, guilt searing through her. She'd ruined everything — the actors' chance to put on a show they'd worked hard on, Dipper's chance to be a part of something fun, Ford's chance to have enough money to stay afloat. Everything came crashing down when Babel sent that chandelier into the stage.

"Oh, Mabes," Dipper said, "it's not your fault."

She didn't respond. She knew it was.

The bell above the gift shop door jingled faintly. "Hiya, Dipper!"

Mabel didn't have to look up to know who it was: Candy and Greyson, Dipper's best friends here in Gravity Rises.

"Hey, guys! Come to buy anything?"

Greyson laughed. "Of course not, we came to see you. Oh, hi, Mabel."

Mabel looked up and forced a smile.

Candy frowned. "Those are some big bruises you got there," she said, her eyes tracing Mabel's bare arms. "Dipper said you were in an accident. What happened?"

Accident. What a stupidly underwhelming word. Nothing that happened last week had been an accident.

"Um," she said to Candy, "I don't want to talk about it."

Candy shrugged and turned to Dipper. "Well, now that Mabel is up, can you come hang out with us?"

"Um, not yet," Dipper said. "But you're welcome to stay here, if you want."

Mabel blinked. Had he been turning them down just so he could stay by her side?

"But it's boring in here, Dip," Candy moaned, leaning against the checkout counter.

"I don't mind," Greyson said. "Nothing's boring with Dipper around."

Dipper grinned. "Thanks, Greyson!"

A tourist started wandering over the checkout counter. "Hey, guys, off," Robbie said, shooing the tweens away. Dipper jumped off the counter, and he, Candy, and Greyson all scattered like startled birds to make room for the customer. Mabel grabbed Dipper's arm as he passed.

"Dip, have you been with me all the time since Saturday?" she asked softly.

He looked at her and tilted his head a bit. "Well, yeah, I wasn't going to leave you."

Mabel felt tears misting in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered. Then she swallowed. "But, I know how much you like to go hang out with people. You can go if you want to. Y'know, hang out with Candy and Greyson, email Amanda, maybe try to talk to Gabby again."

Dipper's face darkened.

"O-oh, sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned Gabby," Mabel hurried to say.

"No," Dipper said, "it's not her. Though she told me it's better if we don't talk again, which I get. No, it's. . . it's Amanda." He cast a furtive glance over to Candy, who was looking at the vending machine options with Greyson. "She hasn't been emailing me back."

First Gabby rejecting him, then his debt to the theater, and now this? Mabel's heart filled with love for her brother as she wondered how he spent so much time looking after her when all of this was happening to him.

"Oh," she said. "I-I'm sorry. Do you know why?"

"No," he said sadly. "But she wouldn't just ignore me, right?"

"Of course not." At least, she wouldn't if she cared about him at all. And Mabel was pretty sure Amanda cared about Dipper.

Dipper seemed to take some consolation in this, but his expression was still dampened, and Mabel felt bad for bringing it up.

"Have a nice day!" Robbie waved goodbye to the customer, then turned to the twins. "Woah, Dip-kid, why so down?"

Candy and Greyson were returning with snacks in hand. Dipper looked between them and Robbie. "A friend of mine isn't responding to my emails, is all."

Robbie shot Dipper a disbelieving look. "You know why, don't you?"

"No," Dipper said in surprise. "Do you?"

"You been living under a rock? The communications interruption is all people have been talking about for like a week. When's the last time you emailed this person?"

"About a week ago," Dipper said, his eyes slowly lighting up. "You mean something is up with my emails? She's not just ignoring me?"

"Nah, nobody's Wi-Fi has been working since around when you and I got hired for Spectre. Phones, too. It says it sends things, but they never go through. Super obnoxious."

"Oh, yeah, speaking of that," Greyson said nervously, "I need to get back home soon to check in with my mom, since my phone isn't working. She'll be mad if I'm not on time. Maybe you can come hang out with Candy and me there, Dipper?"

Dipper glanced to Mabel. "Go ahead," she said, even though she didn't really want to. But he deserved it. Who was she to make things even worse for him?

"I dunno," he said. "Robbie, can you stay with Mabel?"

Robbie grimaced. "No, I'm going out with my friends tonight. They should be here any minute, actually. I don't know what we're doing or how long we'll be, though, since the group text isn't working. Maybe you could come along, Mabel?"

She looked at him in alarm. "N-no thank you," she said, her words tripping over each other in their rush to escape her mouth. Last time she'd hung out with Robbie's friends had been the first time she'd met Bill, and she didn't need any more reminders of that. Plus, right now, being social sounded even more terrifying than usual.

Dipper had his hand to his mouth, thinking it over. "It's fine," Mabel blurted, "I'm fine here. Melody's here, a-and I'm getting kinda tired, anyway. O-or maybe Ford can come out and be with me."

Robbie laughed derisively. "Yeah, right. Nobody has seen him since we brought you home."

Yet more pain Mabel's deal with Bill had caused. Her eyes traced the patterns in the floor. "Right." Ford hadn't taken the news about Bill well. Mabel didn't remember much about what happened when she came home after her possession, but she did remember Ford's stricken face as he asked, "He's back?"

Back.

"Mabel?" Candy asked.

Mabel looked up. She'd been breathing heavily and staring at the floor with wide eyes as the full realization of what Ford said hit her. "U-um, sorry, um, you guys go and have fun. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Dipper asked.

"Y-yeah," she answered distractedly. Back. Ford knew Bill. Well — of course he knew Bill! He'd written about Bill in the Journal; he'd known how to heal Mabel after her possession — but — but — he knew Bill.

And suddenly she felt an overwhelming need to talk to him.

She forced a smile at Dipper. "Really, Dipper, I'm sure. I'm. . . I'm gonna go find Grunkle Ford."

She hurried from the gift shop, limping slightly and ignoring the dull ache of movement.

"Mabel, is everything all right?"

It was Melody, halfway out of the kitchen, holding a plate of food. "I made you some dinner."

Mabel swallowed. "Thanks, Melody. Um, can I go see Grunkle Ford? Or can you ask him to come see me?"

Melody grimaced, then sighed. "He won't let anyone see him, Mabes. I've been leaving food outside his study, but he won't come out no matter what I say — or threaten. He claims he's doing research on the locations of the other two Journals."

Her tone of voice said that wasn't what she thought he was doing at all.

Mabel sat down on the couch and sighed, putting her chin in her hands. "I was hoping I could talk to him about. . . about what happened."

She heard the clink of Melody putting the plate down and felt the couch shift as she sat down next to Mabel on the couch. "Mabel," Melody said softly, "you don't have to answer, but. . . what did happen?"

Mabel would rather be talking to Ford about this, but she guessed Melody would have to do. She looked sideways at her. "You believe in all this supernatural stuff, right?"

Melody smiled wryly back. "I did help rescue a selkie, fight a girl with powers, and, of course, pack your lunches while you went to go fight a shapeshifter. Pretty sure I do."

Mabel turned pink. "Right. Um. Well. . . you heard about. . . Bill, on Saturday, right?"

"Bill Cipher," Melody said, trying the name out on her tongue. Mabel shuddered at the sound of it.

"Right. He's. . . he's a demon. Ford knows him, but I don't know what happened between them. Dipper and I fought him, the night Pacifica stole the Museum. He was invading Robbie's mind, trying to get information. We drove him out, but. . ."

Melody said nothing, just waited patiently for Mabel to talk.

"He came back. And he. . . possessed me."

The words left an ugly silence, and suddenly Mabel couldn't talk fast enough to fill it.

"And you were right, you were right, I shouldn't have worked on the laptop, I should've just waited until Ford was better and he could do it, but I thought I could do it and I thought I could help so I took it and I worked on it at the theater while Dipper rehearsed and I worked on it through the night and I didn't sleep and when Bill got to me I was so tired and so panicked and I just — I fell for it, and I shook his hand, and he — he — he ripped my soul — right out of my body."

These words were even uglier than the last, and hearing them said out loud made Mabel tremble all over for fear of the memory. The sensation of being possessed had been worse than all the pain that had been waiting for her when she got her body back. The feeling of being torn apart. . . the inability to touch anything, talk with anyone, be anything. . .

Melody put an arm around her, still saying nothing.

"And then he ruined everything," Mabel said in a hollow voice. "The laptop, the theater, me. And now — " She looked up at Melody hopelessly. "Now we have to find the other two Journals. They're our only hope to save Stanley with the laptop gone. And if we don't find them. . ."

Melody hugged Mabel tight. "We will," she promised, stroking Mabel's hair. "We will."

Mabel rested her head on Melody's chest and breathed deeply. "Um, Melody. . . we also have to pay for all the damage done to the theater."

Melody's hand paused on Mabel's head. "Oh," she said quietly.

Mabel braced herself for Melody to pull away, to look at her with this disappointed, even angry look. But Melody only held her tighter.

"We'll figure it out," she said. "Don't worry about it, alright? All you need to do is rest and feel better."

She pulled back and smiled at her.

Mabel didn't know if she felt better or worse, but Melody was right about one thing: She still needed rest. Getting off the couch and into the gift shop had been nice, but apparently she still couldn't handle it for long.

Rest. . . Mabel was feeling pretty tired again. She'd been off the couch for less than an hour, but apparently that was all she could handle right now.

She ate the dinner Melody made her slowly. She was ravenous, but eating too fast made her feel sick. Once Melody was satisfied that she'd eaten enough, she took Mabel's plate and helped her arrange the pillows until she was comfortable.

Then Mabel lay back and closed her eyes.

Sleep didn't come. Or maybe it did, but it didn't feel like it. It just felt like thinking.

She wished she could talk to Ford and ask him more about his history with Bill. She wished her body didn't ache all over. She wished she could stop thinking about Bill, about how whenever she dropped off to sleep it felt like being a ghost all over again —

She drifted through her restless thoughts for a while before she finally fell into a deeper sleep. The feeling of being a ghost fell away —

As did the feeling of everything else.