JANUARY 17, 2013

Pacifica could hear them. People had just arrived at the Mystery Museum. She could hear Dipper's loud, happy voice. He was back.

Was Mabel with him?

"You'd better stay away from her if she is," commented Shadow Pacifica. The shade was, fittingly, lurking in the shadows of the parlor. "You'll need to apologize to her eventually, but right now I'm sure the sight of your face would give her a panic attack."

"I wasn't planning on going near her," Pacifica retorted. "Leave me alone already."

Shadow Pacifica had first appeared yesterday morning, and she hadn't left Pacifica since. She'd stayed with her, whispering harsh words and commenting on Pacifica's thoughts. Shadow Pacifica was, according to her, a part of Pacifica's mind. Some kind of representation of her subconscious. And Pacifica's subconscious was hateful, condescending, and vehemently opposed to Bill Cipher.

That last part was the hardest to believe. Pacifica's subconscious, opposed to Bill Cipher? No way. Bill had helped Pacifica so much since her amulet was destroyed. In fact, his presence was enough to temporarily get rid of Spirit Mabel — the spirit that Pacifica had thought was Mabel's creation but had actually been Shadow Pacifica all along.

Shadow Pacifica insisted that, despite what Pacifica thought, Mabel had never used magic to haunt her. Pacifica's own mind had done that. Not Mabel. Which meant Pacifica had hurt Mabel — had sent her to her death — for nothing.

Never mind. Pacifica didn't really believe that, no matter how often Shadow Pacifica repeated it. The point was, Bill had done nothing but help Pacifica. How could she secretly want to fight against him? It made no sense.

When Pacifica had first had this thought, Shadow Pacifica had laughed derisively. "As if your mind makes sense."

She had a point. But Pacifica refused to admit as much.

"Pacifica," the shade had said, "I know your thoughts. I am your thoughts — at least some of them. Of course I have a point."

It was awful. Shadow Pacifica had been here for only a day, but she'd already made it clear that not only did she know Pacifica's thoughts, but she would take every opportunity to mock them.

She'd been a lot easier to ignore before she'd manifested as a person — or a spirit, or a shade, or a hallucination, or whatever she was. Pacifica had had self-deprecating thoughts before, but had been very skilled at ignoring them. They were harder to ignore when she could clearly hear Shadow Pacifica.

Which was the point, as Shadow Pacifica had reminded her.

Now, however, Pacifica tried to ignore the shade and went to the door, where she pressed her ear against the wood. The people she was trying to eavesdrop on were at breakfast (which Pacifica had eaten ten minutes before), and the kitchen was across the house, so Pacifica couldn't make out words or tell how many people were talking. She could only hear Dipper's bright voice.

If his voice was this bright, then surely he'd saved his sister. Pacifica's stomach twisted.

"Don't you want him to be happy?" said Shadow Pacifica. "Mabel makes him happy, Pacifica. Not you. Maybe you could, if you stopped making his life miserable; but if you want Dipper to be happy right now, then you should leave him alone with Mabel."

"Stop assuming I want to go out there," Pacifica snapped.

"I know your thoughts. I know you want to go out there."

Well. . . yes, Pacifica had been considering it. Go out there and remind Dipper that she was here, that she would protect him from Mabel. Except. . . if Mabel made him happy. . .

"He needs protection from you, not from her."

It was too bad Shadow Pacifica was intangible, because Pacifica had a strong desire to punch her between her soulless black eyes.

Pacifica tried in vain to listen to the conversation in the kitchen without leaving the parlor. No such luck. She went back and sat on her air mattress. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes later, the knob to the parlor turned. "Pacifica?" came Melody's voice.

"I heard Dipper," Pacifica said, wasting no time. "Is Mabel back, too?"

Strangely, she almost hoped the answer was yes.

"Not yet," Melody said. "Neither is Gideon. But Ford is here, and he'd like to talk to you."

"About what?" Pacifica said warily. She knew exactly what. But she didn't think she wanted to be alone with Ford. It was partly her fault that Ford and Lincoln had been taken by the Northwest servants last Friday. He probably hated her.

"Melody doesn't hate you," Shadow Pacifica pointed out. Her tone was surprisingly mild. "Maybe Ford doesn't either. You deserve to be hated, of course, but maybe he's forgiving."

You deserve to be hated. The shade said it so casually, as if it were undeniable fact.

Maybe it was.

"I'll let him tell you what he wants," Melody said. "I'm going to go work on another project with Dipper. Will you be okay with Ford? He promised me he wouldn't try to hurt you. He just wants to talk."

Just wants to talk. Pacifica was sure he would talk about as nicely as Shadow Pacifica.

But, "Fine. He'll have to bring chairs for us." Pacifica gestured around at the room, which was empty besides the air mattress.

Melody nodded. She put a hand on the knob, but lingered in the doorway. "Are you doing okay? Is. . . is Shadow Pacifica still here?"

Pacifica should never have told Melody about Shadow Pacifica. Yesterday, after Pacifica had embarrassingly cried on Melody's shoulder for a while, the conniving woman had managed to draw out an explanation about Spirit Mabel, Shadow Pacifica, everything. Melody had been even more annoyingly concerned about Pacifica ever since.

"Of course she's still here," Pacifica said, irritated. "She never left when she was Mabel, and she won't leave now. I don't want to talk to you about her, because she'll just say rude things to me the entire time I try."

"Oh, you know me so well," Shadow Pacifica drawled.

"Okay," Melody said calmly. "But I want to help you."

Was that the only thing Melody knew how to say? "Yes, yes," Pacifica said dismissively.

Melody looked like she wanted to say something else, but she wisely withdrew from the room and closed the door.

Pacifica stood and attempted to wait primly for Ford, though it was hard to look prim in the simple shirt and leggings she was wearing. It was the only outfit she had with her (unless you counted the bulky snow gear that Melody had long since confiscated), and there was no way Pacifica would wear Mabel's clothes. Dipper would never allow it, anyway. She just had to look dignified despite her common attire.

"Who are you trying to impress, anyway?" Shadow Pacifica asked. But Pacifica didn't respond. The shade knew full well that it wasn't about impressing people. It was about showing power. Or at least resilience.

Ford opened the door a minute later. He had chairs under his arms, and he maneuvered them carefully through the door frame. "Hello, Pacifica," he said cordially once he was in the room. His voice didn't have any hatred. But it didn't really have any emotion to begin with.

"Hello," she said imperiously. "Is this a hostage exchange?"

Shadow Pacifica snorted. It was very unladylike.

"No, I'm afraid you need to stay here," Ford said.

A moment of silence passed as Ford set the chairs a few feet apart from each other. He sat down, and Pacifica followed suit, noting the space between them. Ford was out of arm's reach. Was that to reassure her, or to keep himself safe?

"You know," Pacifica said, "a parlor typically refers to a room with couches and chairs where people can sit and chat." It was stupid to call this empty room a parlor if it wasn't one.

Ford chuckled. "Yes, I know. When the house was first built, Fiddleford and I imagined we'd use this room to talk to other scientists when they came to see our projects. That clearly didn't happen, and I never got around to furnishing the room. But I still call it the parlor." He folded his six-fingered hands in his lap. "You and I are sitting and chatting in here, aren't we? So it's a fitting name."

"Are we chatting?" Pacifica asked disdainfully.

"I would like to," Ford said. "I'd like to talk to you about my brother."

"I knew it," Shadow Pacifica said. "He doesn't care about you. He just cares about Lincoln."

Pacifica already knew that. The only reason Ford would come in here to talk to her would be if he wanted to talk about Lincoln. "What about him?" Pacifica asked, playing dumb.

"Did he appear to you yesterday?" Ford asked. "It would've been around dinnertime."

Yes. He had. But Pacifica didn't want to tell Ford that.

"Stop being petty, Pacifica," said Shadow Pacifica. "You can't hide it for long. Gideon will contact Lincoln with his amulet when he gets back, anyway. If he gets back."

Ford could obviously tell from Pacifica's face that she had seen Lincoln. "Is he here now?" Ford asked.

"No, the only person here is a faceless idiot," Pacifica said, glaring at Shadow Pacifica.

"Excuse me, I have a beautiful face," Shadow Pacifica said. She put a hand to her face, which looked exactly like Pacifica's, save a greyish skin tone and those black pits for eyes.

"I'm not sure I follow," Ford said.

"Never mind," Pacifica said. "Lincoln was here last night, but he's not here now. He said he wanted to go look around town to get information."

Ford smiled. "Thank you for telling me."

"You would've figured it out anyway," Pacifica muttered.

"Will you also tell me what he said to you? I think I know, but I'd like to hear it from you if you're willing."

"This is your chance," Shadow Pacifica said. "You can tell him what Lincoln said, and you can say that you're on his side now and you'll join the Cipher Wheel."

Pacifica glared at the shade over her shoulder. "Shut up," she hissed. "I'm not, and I won't."

"Pacifica?"

She turned back to Ford. "I won't talk," she said, "and you're too soft to torture the information out of me. So it seems we're at an impasse."

Ford looked at her thoughtfully. "No," he said, "of course I won't torture you. Just because you hurt me once doesn't give me the right to hurt you."

"You keep telling yourself that," Pacifica said with a slight roll of her eyes. She couldn't tell if Ford was saying that to teach her some grand life lesson, or if he was saying it to remind himself. Perhaps he was holding himself back from throttling her. Well, she wasn't afraid. She didn't have her amulet or her hexal magic, but she was surely faster than this old man.

Shadow Pacifica groaned. "You're thinking about this all wrong," she said. "He's not out to hurt you. You don't have to think of him as your enemy."

Of course she did. This was the man who wanted to hurt Bill, who wanted to take Lincoln away from her!

"Lincoln can love more than one person, you idiot," Shadow Pacifica said. "You don't get to keep him to yourself."

"Pacifica," Ford said, "we're going to need your help to form the Cipher Wheel. I don't know what I need to do or say to convince you, but please give me a chance."

"Don't worry, old man. I'll convince her," Shadow Pacifica said confidently.

Ford, of course, didn't hear her. He leaned forward and looked Pacifica in the eyes. "Pacifica, will you help my brother gain a physical form, and then join the Cipher Wheel yourself?"

Pacifica held his gaze. Two days ago, she would've reacted violently, screaming of course not, I'd never betray Bill like that, how could you suggest it! But now, after spending a day with Shadow Pacifica, Pacifica actually had to consider her answer.

"Say yes, Pacifica," Shadow Pacifica said, sounding annoyed. "You know it's the right thing to do. It shouldn't take this long. Not that I should expect anything better from you, but—"

"Shut up," Pacifica snapped, twisting around in her chair to glare at the shade.

"Who are you talking to?" Ford asked.

"Oh, so Melody hasn't told you my secrets yet?" asked Pacifica, facing Ford and crossing her arms. "Good. I already told her too much."

Ford gave a small smile. "She has a way of getting information," he said. "She would never use it against you, though."

"I doubt that." Why get information from someone in the first place if you're not planning on using it against them?

"I think we've gotten off track," Ford said. "Do you have an answer to my question?"

Pacifica wanted to stay off track. "Speaking of torture," she said, circling around and avoiding the topic of the Cipher Wheel, "why aren't you hurt? I was told that Cipher's servants are very good at torturing people."

"Oh, they are," Ford said. Pacifica hoped to see a repressed shudder or a haunted look in his eyes, but his face and body language remained neutral. "I'd rather not talk about that. Do you need time to think about your answer?"

Did she? Of course the answer was no. Of course she'd never help defeat Bill. Who else had helped her after she'd lost her amulet? Who else had promised her peace and love?

"Lincoln," Shadow Pacifica said. "Lincoln did both of those things, the best he could. And Gideon wanted to help you after you lost your amulet. The only reason he didn't was because he couldn't find you. Both of them care about you, Pacifica, and both of them want to defeat Bill. Can't you see that they're right?"

The shade sounded almost kind, for once. "Bill was using you," she continued. "He was only pretending to be kind to get what he wanted."

Isn't Ford doing the exact same thing? Pacifica thought, though she didn't dare say it aloud.

"I don't think so. He and Lincoln need your help, but they're not going to get rid of you afterward, the way Bill would."

You told me Ford didn't care about me, Pacifica silently pointed out.

"Maybe not yet, but I think he could," Shadow Pacifica admitted. "I think if you help him and Lincoln, they'll take care of you afterward. They won't abandon you the way your parents did."

Pacifica wasn't sure about that. But. . . it sounded nice.

She'd imagined living a perfect life in Bill's dimension with her friends. With the people who cared about her. No evil Mabel, no parents who neither remembered nor cared about her. But if Mabel wasn't actually evil. . . and if Lincoln was willing to help her no matter where they were. . . did she need to leave her own dimension at all?

Ford waited silently while Pacifica thought. She wanted to laugh in his face, to tell him to get lost because she'd never help him. But the words wouldn't come.

"Tell him yes," Shadow Pacifica urged. "Tell him you'll help him."

But she couldn't do that, either. Pacifica couldn't just turn against Bill like that. Less than a week of captivity, and only one day with Shadow Pacifica, and she was already going to break? No way. Even if she was starting to believe Shadow Pacifica — which she wasn't — she was far too stubborn to show it.

"Okay," Ford said, taking Pacifica's silence as a sign that yes, she needed more time to think. "You don't have to answer me right now. But think about it. Think about what it would mean to have Bill escape his prison. We Symbols would die, and Bill would have full power to hurt other people. If we don't form the Cipher Wheel—"

"Shut up," Pacifica said. "Don't lecture me."

Ford pursed his lips, but then put his hands up. "All right. Just. . . think about it. And if Lee returns, will you come get me? Will you help me talk to him by telling me what he says?"

"No," Pacifica muttered. "I won't help you."

She couldn't meet his eyes as she said it, though.

Ford got to his feet. "I'll leave you, then. Please consider helping me talk to my brother." He picked up his chair. "Could I take your chair?"

"Why, so I can't use it to break the window and escape?" Pacifica asked.

"Yes, that's exactly why," Ford said.

He wasn't even trying to hide that she was a prisoner. Pacifica didn't want to give him the chair. Escape attempts aside, she wanted to have somewhere to sit other than the air mattress. She wondered what would happen if she threw a tantrum about it.

But Ford didn't seem very tolerant of tantrums. And although Pacifica thought she was faster than him, he was likely stronger and could force the chair from her without much effort. So Pacifica stood up and let him take it with no more resistance than a glare.

"You don't really want to escape, anyway," Shadow Pacifica said. "You want to stay and fight Bill."

Pacifica's eye twitched, but now wasn't a good time to yell at the shade. Not while Ford was still here. Pacifica maintained her glare as the old man took the chairs out of the room. "Thanks for the chat," he said mildly, and he closed the door behind him.

There was a moment of silence.

"Well," Shadow Pacifica said, "he's a nice man. Especially considering that you've tortured him before. You should listen to him. You should join the Cipher Wheel."

In response, Pacifica threw herself onto the air mattress and screamed into her pillow.