Panic later.

Mabel had no idea how long she floated there in the theater basement, staring at the concrete floor and wondering vaguely how a ghost could feel so out of breath. A ghost. She was a ghost now. Bill was in her body. Bill had destroyed the laptop, he was going to destroy the Journal, this was all her fault —

Panic later.

It was a tiny voice in the back of her head, but she grabbed onto it like a lifeline and pulled. Panic later. Think now. Panic later. Think now.

She closed her eyes and pushed it all away, pushed the boulder of her emotions to the corners of her brain. She could feel it all later, once she fixed this. She had to fix this.

"Okay, Mabel. You're a ghost. You've studied ghosts. What can ghosts do?"

They could float around. They could move through walls. They could go wherever they needed to, and no one could see them. But they couldn't communicate with anyone. Anyone except —

Suddenly Mabel knew what to do.

She took a deep breath — seriously, how did ghosts breathe? Was she just imagining it? — and shot upwards through the ceiling. She only had to imagine herself moving, and then she was moving, flying up through the pipes and foamy insulation and not touching any of them. Then she was through the floor, and the stage lights bombarded her with their bright beams. She twisted and looked back. No shadow. The lights went right through her.

This was kinda cool.

Focus, Mabel. She couldn't see any other ghosts from here, but she couldn't see much else through these lights either. The stage was nearly empty, but Mabel's heart sped up as Tambry, the lone actress onstage, came twirling towards her. Mabel swerved, but Tambry's outstretched arm passed through Mabel's abdomen, sending a shudder through Mabel's ghostly body.

Mabel flew upwards again, escaping into the catwalks, where the stage lights didn't reach. She navigated between pieces of the set that hung from their ropes, waiting to be called down onto the stage. And she called out to anyone who could hear her.

"Hello? Hello! I need help! Are there any ghosts that can hear me? I — I've been kicked out of my body, I've been possessed! Please help!"

She shouted her message as she flew through the theater, peering into nooks and crannies that she thought ghosts might inhabit. For a moment, she worried that ghosts actually couldn't see one another, but her brain immediately reminded her of the Legend of the Lovers — two ghosts haunting an abandoned roller rink who were stopped by someone helping them find each other. Ghosts seemed mostly solitary, but surely someone would come to her aid?

"Please, I need help from a ghost! Please come out!"

"Quiet down, child, you'll wake the entire theater."

Mabel froze when she heard the voice. It was coming from the wings.

She flew towards it. "Hello?" she called, a little quieter. Then she saw her: a semitransparent ghost, glowing softly, floating next to the fly ropes.

"Oh, thank goodness," Mabel said, flying up to the ghost. "Can you help me?"

The ghost frowned slightly. "I don't recognize you."

"N-no, I'm a human. I mean — I'm alive — I mean — sorry! I didn't mean — I — I've been possessed. Someone else is in my body a-and I don't know how to get him out."

Now the ghost was looking at her in alarm. "Possessed? Who possessed you?"

"B-Bill Cipher."

The air around them suddenly got colder as the ghost's glow dimmed. "Cipher," she whispered. "I knew I felt him around here. I didn't want to believe it, but. . . where is he now?"

"I-in my body — of course — I mean, he's heading back to my home, the Mystery Museum. He's probably left the theater by now. He's going to ruin everything — I — I need some way to stop him. To communicate with people. To get my body back."

"Slow down," the ghost said. "I don't know how to get your body back. Human bodies are usually too strong for direct possession."

"Direct possession?"

"Forcing your spirit into a living thing and forcing its spirit out. It often works on small animals. How did Cipher possess you?"

"H-he tricked me into making a deal with him," Mabel said. "Couldn't I take my body back from him, though, since it's my body? Won't it recognize me? I-I study ghosts, and I thought — "

"With Cipher, no. He's too powerful. And I don't know much about his deals, but I believe they make his possession very hard to break. No, I don't know how to retrieve your body, but I do know how you can communicate with the outside world."

"You do? What is it?"

"See that girl?"

Mabel followed the ghost's pointing finger to Gabby, who was on the stage singing with Tambry. "Yeah, I know her."

"Her house is right next to the theater. She has a parakeet, a little blue thing. Probably small enough that you can directly possess it. If you can do that, you'll be able to both fly and speak."

Mabel's eyes widened. "That's right! Parakeets can talk! That's perfect!"

The ghost pointed in the opposite direction of the stage. "The house is that way. Good luck."

"Th-thank you!" Mabel stammered. "Thank you so, so much!" She started flying away and was halfway through the ropes before something occurred to her. "W-wait. What about the parakeet's spirit? Will it be okay? Will I kill it?"

"It should be fine," the ghost said. "It'll drift aimlessly for a while, but once you leave its body, it will instinctively return to it. Don't bother to apologize, though; it won't understand you."

"O-okay. Thanks!" And with that, Mabel zoomed away.

She flew through the walls of the theater until she emerged into open daylight. She quickly scanned the streets for Babel, but when she didn't see him, she hurried into the house in front of her.

It took a few minutes of flying through the house before she found the parakeet. It sat in a gilded cage that hung in the window, the setting sun glinting off the bars. Mabel flew over to it and realized that she forgot to ask the ghost how to possess the bird. But she didn't have time to go back and ask — she had to just go for it.

She took a deep breath. "Sorry, little guy." Then she focused, imagined her soul pushing out the bird's, and slammed into the parakeet.

The world went topsy-turvy again, but not for as long. Even after Mabel came to, it took her a moment to orient herself — her vision was all wonky. Instead of one picture made by two eyes, she had two pictures, both close to each other but never overlapping. Mabel wasted a few seconds wondering what had happened before she realized —

Birds had eyes on either side of their heads.

She was a bird.

It worked!

She tried flapping her wings. It felt just like her dreams — just like in Robbie's head, when she'd fought Bill with bird wings on her back. Well, she was going to fight him again. And she was going to win again.

. . . If she could get out of this cage.

She flew to the bars, clinging onto them with her scaled feet. The bird's body moved naturally. From her perch, she inspected the lock. Could she pry it open from the inside? It was a simple latch, but the bars were in the way.

She maneuvered her head until she could push up on the latch, then carefully stretched out a wing to push it over. The wing didn't do much — she could only reach the latch with the tips of her wing feathers.

It was exhausting, and took seemingly forever, but she finally heard the metal bar click. The cage swung open. "Ha!" Mabel said.

She closed her mouth — her beak — immediately. The sound that had come out was very strange. In her head, it sounded like herself, like when you plug your ears and listen to yourself talk. But on the outside, with her ears, she heard the high-pitched squawking of a parakeet.

Well, at least you can talk now, she told herself. Now to find an open window and get out of this house.

Eventually, after finding nothing, she had to open a window by herself, which was even more exhausting (but less time-consuming) than opening the latch. Finally, she was back outside.

She didn't know how much time she'd wasted since Babel left for the Mystery Museum, but she knew it was too much. She flew back to the theater and in through the smashed basement window. Her tiny stomach churned at the sight of the mess Babel had left, but she didn't stop. She flew up the stairs, through the open door, and down the corridor. It was a miracle that she didn't have to learn how to steer this thing.

She flew out onto the stage and shot towards the spotlight alcove across the room, hoping she was fast enough that nobody would notice her. From the scattered, startled yells, some people did.

She reached the spotlights and landed on a lopsided chandelier that balanced on a ledge. Her feathery body filled with relief as she caught sight of Dipper. He was carefully guiding the spotlight on the stage, his tongue protruding slightly, following Tambry and a masked actor as they sang a haunting song.

Mabel considered waiting until the song was over, but there wasn't enough time. "Dipper!" she chirped. "Dipper!"

Dipper looked around wildly. "What? Who's that?"

"Dipper! Over here!"

He kept glancing between the spots and the stage, but his eyes finally found her.

"Dipper, it's me! Mabel!"

He froze. "Mabel?"

"Yes!"

Dipper looked between the stage, the bird, the stage, the bird. Then he shook his head to himself, flipped off his spotlight, and took off his headset.

"I'm so going to get yelled at," he muttered. But he did it anyway, and Mabel immediately felt bad for accusing him of not caring.

"Thank you, Dipper, I — "

"What happened?" He knelt down so he was at eye level with her. "Why are you a bird? Did you get cursed by a wizard?"

"Much worse than that," Mabel said. "It's Bill. He tricked me, and now he's in my body. He destroyed the laptop, and he's on his way to the Museum to destroy the Journal, and we have to stop him before he — "

"Wait, wait. Bill? Possessed you?"

"Yes! And if we don't hurry he'll get the Journal and — "

"The third Journal?"

"Yes," Mabel said, exasperated.

"But it's not at the Museum."

She stopped. "Wait, what?"

Dipper looked chagrined. "I have it. I noticed that you forgot it, so I grabbed it, but. . . I didn't want to give it to you. I guess I figured if you didn't have it, you might get some sleep instead of working on the laptop."

"I didn't," Mabel muttered.

"It's up here." He reached around the spotlight and rummaged around for a moment before straightening back out, the Journal in his arms. "I would've given it back if you asked for it, but — "

"Oh my — thank goodness you took it," Mabel said, blissfully relieved. "I thought Bill had it for sure. But — when he doesn't find it back at the Museum — "

"He'll probably come looking for it here," Dipper finished. Then he frowned. "Mabel, if Bill's in your body. . . why are you a bird?"

"It's Gabby's. I, um. . . borrowed it."

Dipper raised his eyebrows and smiled a little smile. "Well, your parakeet voice is adorable."

"Dipper, focus! Bill?"

"Right. Sorry. But your voice is still adorable. So is Bill at the Museum yet? Do you think Ford or Melody will notice he's in your body?"

"Bill didn't seem to think so. Mr. Bartosic came down to yell at him and didn't notice anything. But I hoped Melody or Ford would realize something was different." Her eyes widened. "Do you think he'll hurt them?"

"I doubt he'd be able to. He's in your body, isn't he? He can't be stronger than you normally are. And Ford could take you, easy. Probably Melody too."

"Thanks," Mabel deadpanned. Or, tried to deadpan. Parakeet voices weren't much for sarcasm.

"Sorry," Dipper said. "But in this case, it gives us an advantage."

There was a moment of silence in which they could hear squawking coming from Dipper's discarded headset. Probably Mr. Bartosic, trying to find out why Dipper was no longer spotlighting the stage.

"How long do you think we have until he realizes where the Journal is?" Dipper asked.

"I-I don't know. I don't know how long it's been since he left. But we have to take the Journal and get out of here, go hide it somewhere or something."

"I don't think we can get out of the theater without Mr. Bartosic stopping us. He probably wouldn't let us go either. Plus, even if we do hide the Journal, how do we get your body back?"

"I don't know," Mabel repeated.

Dipper paused for a moment and looked her in the eyes. Or, well, in the one eye he could currently see. "Mabel. . . are you okay?"

Mabel took a sharp breath as her pent-up emotion lapped at the edges of her mind. "Don't ask me that. Ask me that after we get my body back. Don't ask me that yet."

"Okay," Dipper said softly. "So what are we going to do?"

"Hide the Journal and then go get Ford."

"I don't think we should hide it," Dipper said. "I wanna keep it with me."

"I dunno — "

"C'mon. If Bill comes, I can take him. When haven't I beat you in a wrestling match?"

"Never," Mabel said. "We're not allowed to wrestle."

"Why not?" Dipper asked smugly.

". . . Because you always beat me."

"Exactly."

Mabel sighed. "Okay, we can keep the Journal with us. But we still have to get out of here and get Ford. I could fly out — "

"We can't separate. If Bill comes, you need to be here to take your body back."

"Okay, fine, we'll leave and if Mr. Bartosic tries to stop us we'll tell him it's a matter of life or death — "

"Is it?"

"If Bill destroys the Journal we won't be able to rescue Stanley!" Mabel shouted, her screechy voice rising in pitch. "And if we can't rescue Stanley, he could die! So yes, it's a matter of life or death!"

"Okay, okay, Mabel, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. You're right. We have to get out of here. So let's just — "

A loud clanging sound suddenly reverberated up into the spots.

"What was that?" Mabel asked.

"That's just the stairs," Dipper said. "There's a metal spiral staircase leading up here. It just means that someone is — "

He stopped. He and Mabel looked at each other in alarm.

"Coming up here," Dipper finished in a whisper.

They both went quiet.

Distant, high-pitched laughter drifted through the air.

"I'm coming, Shooting Star."