Content warning: The next two chapters contain semi-graphic descriptions of child abuse and its effects.

For the next three days, Gideon followed Mabel around and tried to get her to listen to him. And in those three days, nothing seemed to work. He told her over and over again that she was dying; he showed her more sad or scary pictures in her sketchbook; he invited her to go to the library with him. But she never heard him when he told her the truth; she dismissed the negative pictures as relics from a past time of hardship; she turned down his offers to go to the library. She was too busy with the brownie village, she said.

At first, Mabel and Charles (and Dipper that one time) had only gone to the brownie village to sightsee. The tiny people had beautiful pottery, Mabel said, and impressive architecture. But then the leaders of the brownie village had approached Mabel and Charles and asked for their help. They wanted their opinions on social conflicts within the village, since their outsider viewpoints would offer neutral suggestions. They also asked for their help with matters of charity, and Mabel started bringing food from the Museum for them. Because of the size difference, a single apple could be chopped up and distributed generously to the brownies.

With Mabel spending most of her time in the brownie village, Gideon had nothing to do. But his mind stayed active as he thought about what he could do to get Mabel out of here. Talking to her bluntly didn't work. Trying to lure her away to the library didn't work: Twice he told her he had a surprise for her, and twice she'd been distracted by Charles taking her to the brownies or Dipper wanting to play a game with her. Even kidnapping her didn't work: She never actually slept, so Gideon couldn't levitate her out of the moon while she was asleep; and Charles was always with her when she shrank down to brownie size. Once, Gideon had picked her up and tried to run away with tiny Mabel in his hand, but Charles had grown to normal size, pointed at Mabel, and turned her back to normal size, too. Gideon ended up on the ground with an aching hand and a confused Mabel on top of him.

He tried to corner the fake people and interrogate them, but they were only there when Mabel was, and they completely ignored Gideon when he asked them questions or threatened them. Mabel seemed to have endless social energy, and she got distracted easily, especially when Gideon tried to talk to her about the prison or the real world. He never got her attention for more than a minute.

Since Mabel's attention was rarely on Gideon, it gave him a chance to watch her and see what her perfect world was like. Her whole family clearly loved her and was interested in what she had to say to them. One evening, she spent hours talking to Ford and Lincoln (or Lee, as everybody called him here; the name "Blind Lincoln" didn't seem to exist in Mabel's perfect world). Ford was fascinated by her observations of the brownies, and Lee told funny stories about past experiences he and Ford had with brownies while adventuring. Mabel's parents came in and out of the room to listen to Lee's stories or smile fondly at Mabel and Ford.

But while Mabel loved her family, she spent much of her time with Charles. Gideon wondered if they'd been spending this much time together the whole time Mabel had been imprisoned, or if it was just because of the excitement in the brownie village. Could Mabel's perfect world really involve so much time with Gideon?

Despite his frustration, Gideon's heart lifted when he thought of that. Mabel really did like him. She liked spending time with him.

Gideon tried to keep his thoughts on his mission to save Mabel, but after he'd thought through his (failed) plans so many times, his brain wanted something else to focus on. So it turned to his theory — that Mabel and Charles were a couple — and looked for evidence to support it. Gideon had a crush on Mabel — he'd admitted it to himself, and he'd even admitted it to Dipper when they were at the Northwest Manor. But did Mabel feel the same about Gideon? She obviously liked him as a friend, but. . . was there more? Gideon watched Mabel and Charles closely, looking for a loving look in their eyes or even a kiss. Any sign that they were something more than friends.

He didn't see anything.

They seemed to be friends. Good friends. But just friends. The more Gideon watched, the more he came to that conclusion. Mabel's perfect world meant that Gideon was her friend, not her boyfriend.

The realization made him sadder than he'd expected.

Gideon berated himself for feeling disappointed. You're here to rescue Mabel, not to wallow in your own feelings! You don't have time to feel sorry for yourself! He tried to stay focused. Come up with a new plan. Figure out a way to get Mabel out of here.

But sometimes, his mind wandered, and he got caught up thinking about his crush and wondering if he could still have a chance with Mabel. When he got really distracted, he even imagined kissing her. . . . What would that be like?

No. Don't think about that. Focus.

Time was running out. Gideon could feel it. He didn't know how long Mabel had left, but surely she didn't have long. There was no time for anything but helping her escape.

On his fifth morning in the illusory world, Gideon sat on the porch and watched the evening sky flip to morning. It happened in an instant, just as it had the other mornings, and Gideon's energy was suddenly replenished. Gideon wondered, not for the first time, how time in this world matched up to time in the real world. Each day was, as far as he could tell, exactly sixteen hours long. Mabel went to bed at the same time each night and got up at the same time each morning, and the eight hours when she was supposed to be sleeping were simply skipped. Did that mean there were three days in this world to every two days in the real world? That'd make the most sense, although there was no way for Gideon to really know.

It didn't really matter. What mattered was getting out. Gideon got to his feet and went inside, hoping to catch Mabel before her family distracted her. "Mabel?" he called up the stairs.

"Give me a minute!"

Gideon waited. Mabel came down the stairs, wearing jeans and a yellow shirt with a daisy on it. "Good morning," she said.

"Can we go to the library today?" asked Gideon.

Mabel shook her head apologetically. "Charles and I are making pottery with the brownies today."

"Can't you do that another day?" Gideon asked, already struggling to keep a hold on his temper.

Mabel hesitated. "Well. . . I want to do it today."

"But you don't have to."

"I'm supposed to bring more food for them, too."

"Give it to Charles, and he can take it to them," said Gideon, knowing perfectly well that neither Charles nor the brownies would exist to give or take food if Mabel wasn't with them.

"Well. . ."

"Trust me, Mabel," said Gideon, "you'll want to see what I have to show you."

Her interest was piqued by that. "Really? You have a surprise?" she asked.

"Yes, and you'll love it." You'll love being back home with your real family, he thought.

"I. . . I don't know. Charles will be disappointed."

Who cares about Charles?! Gideon wanted to yell. But he didn't. "He'll be fine. You and he can make pottery with the brownies another day."

This was a lie, since Gideon couldn't shrink people with his amulet in the real world. And he didn't know if real-life brownies made pottery. But it seemed a small fib compared to saving Mabel's life.

"I guess. . ."

It seemed he was about to convince her. "Please?" he asked, smiling softly at her, although he actually felt like tearing his hair out at how long this was taking.

Before she could answer, someone knocked on the door.

Gideon couldn't stop the frustrated growl that rose from his throat. He and Mabel looked through the window to see Charles standing on the porch. "Don't open that," Gideon said immediately.

"Why not? It's rude to—"

"Don't open it," he repeated forcefully. "I need to talk to you, and Charles doesn't get to interrupt."

"Let me in, clone," Charles called through the door.

"I'm not—" Gideon took a deep breath. As he did so, Mabel moved to the door. He quickly said, "Wait! Please, Mabel. Tell me you'll go to the library with me."

"We should ask Charles what he thinks," Mabel said, and she opened the door.

Charles came in. "Go to the library?" he asked, having heard what Gideon said. "Why would you go to the library? I thought we were going to the brownie village again."

"Well, Gideon invited me to go to the library with him," Mabel said, "and he really wants to go today. Right, Gideon?"

No answer.

Mabel turned and saw his face. "Gideon?" she asked in alarm.

Gideon didn't look at her. He was staring at Charles in horror. His face was hot; his limbs felt heavy; his ears seemed filled with water.

"Gideon, what's wrong?"

"What's up with you?" said Charles, looking offended. "Stop looking at me like that."

Gideon couldn't speak. A small part of his brain knew he was overreacting, knew he shouldn't be in shock over something so trivial, but—

Charles was wearing short sleeves. He had worn long sleeves the entire time Gideon was in Mabel's moon, but today he wore short sleeves.

The skin on his bare arms was smooth.

"Your arms," Gideon choked out. "Your — your arms."

Why couldn't he talk?

Charles looked down at his arms, confused. "What about them?"

"You're wearing short sleeves," Gideon said thickly.

"So? We're making pottery today, genius. I didn't want to get clay all over my other shirts."

"But you can't — you can't—"

"Can't what? Can't wear short sleeves? I can wear whatever I—"

"No!" Gideon cried. "No, your arms should — you can't — that's not real!"

He knew he was losing it. But he couldn't stop himself.

Charles folded his arms. His smooth, healthy, scarless arms. "Is that what this is about? Look. I'm the real Gideon. Got that? You don't get to tell me I'm not real. You're just a clone."

And Gideon snapped.

"You're not real!" he screamed. Mabel jumped back at the force of his voice. "You can't be real! You're not real, this world isn't real, and this perfect life isn't real!" He was screaming at Charles, but also at Mabel. Both were too shocked to respond. "The real life is awful sometimes, and people get hurt, and — and—"

His voice cut off. His emotions throbbed in his head, and his throat rumbled with words unsaid and pain unseen.

"Gideon," Mabel said carefully, "what is it? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" His voice was too loud. "What's wrong is that you're trapped in here and you're dying and you won't even listen to me for one second to tell you about it! I'm trying to get you out of here and you won't listen! Instead you go off with Charles because he can levitate two people at a time and he can shrink you and he has bare arms—"

"What on earth do you have against my arms?" Charles demanded, looking utterly bewildered but angry all the same.

"Because my arms don't look like that!" Gideon shouted. "Because you're not real! Because this is what's real!"

He hardly knew what he was doing, but he yanked his sleeve up his right arm. He frantically undid the button and shoved the cloth away, revealing the network of scars beneath.

Mabel gasped.

A shudder went through Gideon as he looked at his scars, but he wrenched his gaze away from them and back at Mabel. "Oh, so that's what you see, is it?" he said. "You don't see reminders of your own past, but you'll look at poor Gideon's scars?"

She flinched. "Gideon, I—"

"This is real," he said, holding up his arm. It had been about two weeks since he'd gotten any new scars, so there weren't any angry red ones, only shiny pink ones and faded white ones, all of them tangled in a painful pattern. "These scars are real. You can't just forget the real world and live in this paradise, Mabel, because it's not real."

"Don't talk to her that way," Charles snapped. "She doesn't deserve to be yelled at."

Gideon knew that, but he didn't care at the moment. Seeing Charles with no scars — seeing the dream he'd had for years, the dream he knew he could never have in real life — it was too much. He couldn't handle one more second of this fake world and its fake promises. He had scars, and they hurt, and he had to accept them, or the pain would tear him apart, and—

He squeezed his eyes shut to stop that train of thought. "Mabel," he said, his voice much softer, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. But — please — please, you have to come with me. We have to get you out of here. I don't know how much longer you have left."

Mabel stared at him. For the first time, she actually seemed to hear him.

"Just because he's being dramatic doesn't mean he's telling the truth," Charles said, annoyed. "Mabel, let's leave this idiot and go have a nice day with the brownies."

Mabel looked between Gideon and Charles. Her face was horrified. Her entire body was tense.

"Please come with me," Gideon said.

Mabel didn't answer. Instead, she threw open the door and fled from the Museum.