Ford watched Mabel walk up the stairs, his jaw set. How dare she — she couldn't just — did she have any idea how important this was?

"Don't you dare go after her."

Dipper suddenly stood between Ford and the stairs. That boy moved fast. "Who said I was going to?"

"You were three steps into it." Dipper folded his arms. "And after what you just said, she's going to need a lot of time without you butting in to ruin everything. Again."

Ford folded his arms right back. "You dare talk to your guardian that way?"

"You dare talk to my sister that way?" Dipper shot back. "She was right. You are obsessive. She can see it, I can see it, Melody can see it. Stan doesn't want this, Ford! He doesn't want this attempt to get him back to come between you and the rest of your family!"

"Don't." Ford lowered his voice to a dangerous pitch, but Dipper didn't flinch. "Don't you even attempt to decide what Stan does or doesn't want. You don't know him."

"I bet I'm right, though."

He is, said a little voice in the back of Ford's mind. Stan wouldn't want this. Ford's anger shoved the voice down. "No," he said tightly to Dipper, "Stan wants to come back to this dimension. And he can't do that unless we have all three Journals. One Journal left, Dipper! One more, and we know where it is, and Mabel is refusing to come help retrieve it!"

Dipper looked astonished. "You're forgetting who even got your other two Journals. Who found the third one out in the woods? Oh, right. Mabel. Who managed to convince Gideon Northwest — who, by the way, lied to us and said he didn't have one — to give up his Journal for the cause? How she did it, I'll never know, but news flash: It was Mabel."

"You kids found the third one on accident and hid it from me for who knows how long," Ford said. He was tired of the twins making Mabel out to be some kind of saint.

"And once you remembered Stan, Mabel put everything she had into getting the other two back. And guess what, she found them! Not you, not me, her."

"Sure, she found them, but I don't have all of them yet. I need her to get this last one back!" She was being selfish. She'd decided that it was too hard, that she could just blow it off as if it was just some regular family outing. It wasn't. It was a mission to retrieve the last thing he needed to restart the portal!

"Funny way to treat someone you need," Dipper said.

Ford opened his mouth to retort, but his body was faster than his brain, and, too late, he realized he couldn't actually think of anything to say. His logic cleared its throat and pointed out that Dipper was, in fact, correct, and Ford was handling this all wrong. His anger attempted to throttle it.

A look of triumph came into Dipper's eyes. "Exactly," he said. And he walked over to the stairs.

"I thought you said not to go after her," Ford said in annoyance.

Dipper stopped, his hand on the banister. "I'm not going to talk to her," he said, as if this were obvious. "Not yet, anyway. I'm going to guard her."

Ford didn't miss the subtext: I'm going to guard her from you. He curled his hands into fists as he watched Dipper ascend the stairs, glaring at the boy's retreating figure.

And then Ford was alone.

He stood there, solitary in the center of the living room. His entire body was tense, trembling a bit with anger. But he had no one to yell at, no outlet for his rage. Oh, he could always kick something. That was Stanley's method of expressing his anger: punch the nearest object and revel in the destruction. But that had never worked for Ford; he preferred to use his quick wits to intellectually out-maneuver anyone who stood in his way.

But Ford's wits were failing him, obviously, if he managed to succumb to two children.

He sighed, uncurling his fingers and running them through his hair in exasperation. With no one to rail against, his anger quieted to a simmer, and he fell back onto the couch, deflating. He put his elbows on his knees and let out a deep breath. "I'm trying, Stanley," he said. "I'm trying to get you back." He chuckled morosely to himself. "But I'm probably doing much worse than you would have if I were the one behind that portal."

He should be figuring out how to get Mabel to agree to come with him to retrieve the first Journal. He should be making plans for that mission. But he couldn't. He tried to divert his thoughts to something productive, but they refused to be redirected. All he could think was how he needed help, how he couldn't do this by himself. He'd always been independent, shunning the support of others, but for the second time in his life, he found his own efforts weren't enough.

Last time this had happened, he'd called on Stanley for help.

Well, he couldn't do that this time. And last time, the very act of coming to Ford's aid had ultimately been Stan's doom.

"I'm sorry, Stan," he whispered. "I can only hope I'm not too late to make things right."

~~~~~

"Mabel?"

Dipper nudged the door open carefully and peered into the twins' room. It looked just as it had this morning, except now there was a big lump under the blankets of Mabel's bed.

"Go away," the lump said.

There was a chance that she actually wanted him to leave, but then, she most likely was just saying that. He stepped into the room and gently — but still audibly — closed the door behind him.

Mabel said nothing. So he was right: She really did want him here.

He waited a moment before crossing the room and sitting at the foot of the bed. Mabel didn't lift her head out of the covers, but she did shift over a little to make room for him.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

The blankets moved up and down in a shrug.

Dipper took in a breath. "Ford is being a colossal jerk."

"Tell me something I don't know," Mabel muttered.

"But he does need you, Mabel. He told me himself."

Mabel shot up into a kneeling position, her covers falling from her shoulders. "Then he needs to ask me!" she burst out. "Nicely!"

Dipper put his hands up. "I know," he said. "He needs to ask. And he needs to be okay with the answer." He moved so he was looking her in the eye. "What would your answer be?"

Her eyes slid away from his. "I — I don't know. I know it's important, but. . . no. It'd be no. I don't want to go back there, Dipper," she said pleadingly.

"I know, Mabes," he said. As she moved to a more comfortable sitting position, he took her hand in his. "I don't like the idea of going anywhere near Pacifica either. I thought she'd stop being a threat after her amulet was destroyed, but. . ."

"But then she went and got herself a cult," Mabel said darkly.

"Yeah." He gave Mabel a small smile. "But hey. If you go, I'll go."

"R-really?"

"Really. I'm not letting you out of my sight again. If there has to be danger, we'll face it together."

Mabel stared at him, her lip trembling. Then she leaned forward to hug him. "Thanks, Dip."

He hugged her tightly back.

After a minute, they pulled away. "So it's gonna be either both of us or neither of us. Which one?"

"I don't know!" Mabel said, hitting her fist on the bed. "Having you along would make it better, but it would still be dangerous and traumatizing and — who even knows if I'd be able to be any help down there? Maybe the minute we step off those stairs, I'll completely freeze up, and not be able to remember anything about where the library might be. Then Ford would've brought me along for nothing."

"Maybe," Dipper said. "The chance that you could help seems to be enough for Ford though. Think about it this way: He's going in blind. You know slightly more than he does, so even if it doesn't work, a slim chance is better than no chance at all."

Mabel raised her eyebrows. "The one-eyed man is king in the land of the blind, I guess," she said with a wry smile.

Dipper had never heard that saying, but it definitely fit. He shrugged. "Yeah, exactly. And hey, doesn't it at least feel kinda cool to know something that Ford doesn't?"

Mabel's smile dropped. "I know a lot Ford doesn't," she said, eyes down. "None of it's good."

"Knowing how to find the first Journal isn't good?" Dipper asked.

"The way I got that information isn't good!"

Dipper held up his hands again. "You're right, you're right."

They lapsed into silence. Dipper tried to think of the best way to point out that if she hadn't been kidnapped, they'd still have no idea where the first Journal was. He was about to open his mouth when Mabel said, "D-Dipper. . . this is for Stan, right?"

"Right."

"But what if. . . ?" She stopped, took a breath. "This is an awful thought, but. . . wh-what if we do all this work. . . go through all this danger. . . for nothing?"

The thought had crossed his mind, probably Ford's too. Dipper had just shoved it away, because it was an unthinkable outcome. But it sounded like Mabel had been thinking about it for a long time, and that it was hard for her to finally voice out loud.

Mabel barreled on. "I-I know that's terrible, and that we can't think like that, and that we have to try, but — but have you ever thought about how, even after we beat the odds and get the portal working again, Stan might not even be there? He might be d-dead, or injured, or nowhere near the portal! Whatever universe he's in, it's bound to be big. What if he doesn't even see the portal open because he's miles away? Or he's nearby, but there's a wall or something in the way? The chances of finding him are tiny!" She pulled her knees up to her chest. "Maybe Shifty was right. Maybe we will end up like him if we're not careful."

"I don't know, Mabes," Dipper said. "Our chances don't look good, I know. But we decided we would still have to try."

"That was before all this happened. Before we nearly were drowned in the bunker. Before I got kidnapped. Before I got possessed."

"But don't you think we still have to try? Better to try and fail than to not try at all and go the rest of our lives wondering, right? If it was me on the other side of the portal—"

"S-stop," Mabel said. "D-don't compare it to you."

"See? It'd be horrible. Unthinkable. And you wouldn't rest until you did all you could to get me back."

"Stop."

"That's how Ford feels, Mabel," Dipper said quietly. "He isn't even worrying about the danger of going to get the first Journal. Because going after it his only option."

"Okay, fine," Mabel said. "He doesn't have to worry about the danger. For himself. What about us? Shouldn't he realize what he's asking of us?"

Dipper shrugged. "We did agree to help."

"We did, but. . . but if I'd known what was going to happen to me, I don't think I would have."

Dipper didn't believe that for a second. Maybe she'd have taken longer to decide, but he didn't think she would refuse. Not when the fate of their grunkle's twin brother was on the line.

"You're not giving yourself enough credit, Mabes," he said.

She opened her mouth to protest, but got cut off. By the door squeaking quietly on its hinges.

Dipper whirled around. Already? What did Ford not understand about —

"I'm sorry."

Mabel drew her knees to her chest and rested her forehead on her knees.

Ford took a hesitant step forward. "You're right. I wasn't thinking about the danger. For any of us. I wrongfully assumed you would be willing to come, that. . . that you were obligated to come. Like Dipper said, you both agreed to help."

"How long were you eavesdropping on us?" Dipper demanded.

"Just for a bit," Ford replied. Then he sighed. "You agreed to help. . . but you didn't agree to put your life on the line. It sounds like that's what happened last night, Mabel."

A moment of silence. Then Mabel spoke, her voice wet. "I almost died, Grunkle Ford."

Ford looked to Dipper, a silent request to sit on the bed. Dipper scooted over — toward Mabel, in case he needed to be between them. Ford gave him an exasperated look, but didn't ask Dipper to move. He came and sat on the bed.

"That must have been terrifying," he said.

She looked up at him. Her eyes were red. "It was," she whispered.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I knew there would be some danger, but I expected the other two Journals to be buried in the forest, like the third one was. Though I would never wish that experience on you, it is a good thing you found it down there. I didn't even know about the Order; I would've kept searching elsewhere in vain."

"It m-makes sense that it's down there," Mabel said. "That's why I even thought to look for it in the first place. Fiddleford was in the Order, so when he stole the Journals, of course he would bring one to the Order facility."

Ford's eyes widened. "Wait — wait — wait. Fiddleford was in the Order?"

"I-I think he was," Mabel said. "The laptop password — I didn't figure it out, I learned it from. . . I learned it after getting possessed. A-anyway. It was Crescent. That can't be a coincidence, right? The Order of the Crescent Eye? Using Crescent as a password?"

"We don't know if Fiddleford stole the Journals," Ford reminded them. "But. . . no, I don't think it's a coincidence."

He let out a haggard sigh and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I don't remember very much about Fiddleford. But I remember trusting him, at least at first. Maybe. . . maybe whatever happened that made me distrust him was finding out he was in the Order. But. . ." He shook his head. "That doesn't feel right. Usually things click when something jogs the memory." Ford moaned and rubbed his face with two palms and twelve fingers. "I hate that I've lost so much."

Dipper and Mabel met eyes. Both expressions were sad, though Dipper thought Mabel's looked pensive as well.

"Isn't. . ." Dipper paused. "Isn't Fiddleford being in the Order — and the first Journal being in their base — isn't that proof that he stole the Journals?"

Ford sighed. "It's pretty convincing. Maybe. Probably."

"Where is Fiddleford, anyway?" Mabel wondered.

Ford gave a humorless laugh. "You have as much of an idea as I do."

They lapsed into an awkward silence. Mabel picked at loose threads in the bedspread. Dipper wanted desperately to break this oppressive silence, to crack a joke or something, but he bit his tongue to stop himself— literally. Mabel and Ford had to do this at their own pace.

"You can see how frustrating this is for me," Ford finally said. "Not having my memories, not having my Journals — not even knowing if Stan will be there behind the portal."

Mabel paled. "Y-you heard that?"

"I think they're valid concerns," Ford said with a nod. "But we still have to move forward. I let my frustrations out on you, Mabel, and I should not have done that. Still, you being unwilling to help retrieve the Journal—"

Dipper cut him off with a warning glare.

Ford took a calming breath. "All right. Mabel, I can't do this without you. Or, I could try, but it would be foolish. I need you, and I'm sorry I wasn't acting accordingly. Would you. . . please, would you reconsider?"

Mabel hesitated. Dipper could see her shoulders tense up, see her attempt to look smaller. "I. . . I don't know. Grunkle Ford. . ." She shrank back even more, like what she was about to say terrified her. She seemed determined to say it anyway, though. Dipper had been in that situation before, knew how scary it was — and Mabel thought she wasn't brave?

Mabel swallowed. "Grunkle Ford, do you care about me?"

Ford's eyes widened for a split second before his face softened with empathy. Dipper moved out of the way so Ford could get to Mabel; he could anticipate what was coming. And if it didn't come, he would make it come.

"Of course I do," Ford said. "I. . ." He looked to Dipper, who nodded, tilting his head towards Mabel. Give her a hug, Ford.

So Ford did. It was awkward, yes — but he did it. He leaned forward and put his arms around Mabel. "I care about you," he said, holding her close. "And I'm sorry for making you doubt it."

Mabel relaxed into his arms. "I'm scared, Grunkle Ford," she whispered.

"I know." He rocked her gently back and forth. "I know."

With Mabel in Ford's arms, they rocked together, eyes closed. Dipper had to hold back a big smile. He knew Ford was decades older than he was, knew his great uncle was the adult here, but he still felt proud of him. He'd been worried Ford would never be able to get past his anger long enough to make up with Mabel. But he had.

Dipper let the smile break out on his face.