WINTER 2013

"I've known your brother my entire life."

Gideon's words hung over the room like a bristly blanket, trapping his audience in shock. He watched Mabel and Stanford as they realized the implications of his statement. Their expressions were just as bad as he'd feared. He was glad that he finally got to see Mabel's face again — but he didn't want to see it like this.

"What?" Ford finally said.

"He's been here all along," Gideon said. It didn't get any easier the second time he admitted it. This. . . this was unheard of. This was blasphemy. By telling the Pines what he had told them, Gideon was signing his death warrant. No — not his death warrant. Bill needed him alive. His torture warrant, then. Bill was going to ensure that he went through enough pain that he'd wish he were dead.

"What are you saying?" whispered Mabel. Hope and horror warred in her eyes.

Gideon found himself growing frustrated. "I'm saying, I know where he is. Or — where he usually is. I don't know where he is right now."

"Where is he usually, then?" Ford's tone was stringent, urgent, pleading — all at once.

This was the second part of the taboo. By claiming he knew Ford's brother, he'd already broken it; by telling them what he was about to tell them, he was digging his grave even deeper.

When he hesitated, Stanford grabbed his shoulders. "Gideon. Please. Please, I need to know. Where is my brother?"

Gideon bit his lip. "Underground," he finally said. "In the. . . in the Order Headquarters. He's the leader of the Order."

Ford's grip slackened; his hands fell to his sides.

"But — Pacifica's the leader," Mabel protested.

"Do you really think Bill would entrust his cult to a twelve-year-old?" Gideon countered. "She's not the real leader; this is just a test run. She's Lincoln's apprentice."

Ford stiffened. Gideon wondered why, for a moment, before remembering that the name 'Lincoln' was bound to be foreign to the Pines. Sure enough, "What did you call him?" asked Ford.

"Lincoln," Gideon said. His voice was much stronger than his resolve. "He goes by Blind Lincoln. I'd never even heard the name 'Stanley' used for him until Mabel told me the night of the Northwest Gala."

Ford caught himself on the wall, as if his outstretched hand were the only thing keeping him upright.

Mabel, however, stepped forward. Her shock seemed to be giving way to her rising anger. "Why didn't you tell me that night?" she demanded. "If you knew, if you've known this whole time, then why did you give me your Journal? Why didn't you just tell me the truth?"

Gideon flinched. This. This was what he was dreading. Not Bill's wrath, not his father's torture — those were in the distant future, and he didn't have to worry about them right now. No, he dreaded Mabel's reaction. He dreaded the look on her face as she realized that he had once again betrayed her.

Her expression demanded an answer. "I don't know," he finally said. It was true enough. He knew a few reasons why, but he didn't have a full explanation.

By indication of Mabel's trembling anger, that answer wasn't good enough. But it would have to do for the moment, for Stanford had straightened again. "You said that's where he usually is," he said, "but you don't know where he is right now?"

"I don't," Gideon confirmed. "He left before the Northwest Gala. I. . . I guess Bill wanted him out of the way when you discovered the Order."

"Why?" It was a shout, full of fury. "If I'd known, I never would have turned on the portal! If Bill didn't want me turning on the portal, he should have let me find my brother!"

Gideon didn't bother calming Stanford; the man needed to be angry right now. "I don't think the portal was ever the real problem. Bill didn't want you turning it on — all the Order's been talking about for the past four days is how to stop you — but that wasn't as important as keeping Lincoln — Stanley — away from you." He took a breath. "You have to understand, Stanford, that what I'm doing right now. . . my telling you about this. . . I'm going against the number one rule in the Order."

"What do you mean?" came the clipped reply.

"I mean that before someone is inducted into the Order, Bill shows up in their dreams, tells them about Lincoln being your brother, and makes them promise never to tell you. Never to even mention it around Lincoln. If Bill doesn't think they can keep that promise, he has me wipe them."

"And you do it?" Ford demanded.

"Of course I do it! You have no idea what threats I'm under if I don't! You have no idea what Bill is going to do to me now that I've told you!"

If he expected a thank you for his risk, he didn't get one. But he didn't expect one, not really. He doubted it was possible for Ford to thank anyone for anything right now.

"If I'm such an enemy to the Order, how does Lee never mention me?" Ford asked.

"He does," Gideon said. "He just. . . doesn't mention that you're his brother. And he almost never leaves Order headquarters, so that's why you haven't seen him. He's very seclusive."

"That's not like Stanley at all," Mabel protested, as if she knew what Stanley was like. "Right, Grunkle Ford? That's not — Gideon, are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Gideon snapped. "He looks just like Stanford. Would I risk running away from my father to tell you something I wasn't sure about?"

Mabel flinched. Whether from Gideon's tone, or from mention of Gaston, or from further confirmation of this awful news, Gideon wasn't sure. Likely all three.

"I'm sorry," he said softly to her. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I'm. . . I'm sorry I didn't make it here before you opened the portal." The anomalies, having so graciously allowed Gideon to escape the manor, had stopped soon after he left the grounds. When that had happened, he'd known that he was too late.

Silence descended on the room. Mabel looked away from Gideon. Ford stood there, his muscles tense, his face cloudy as he thought.

"Stanford," Gideon said, before anyone else broke the silence, "I need to ask a favor of you. My father is going to come after me when he realizes I'm gone, and he's going to guess where I went. I need. . . Can you give me a place to hide?"

Ford blinked as Gideon's words pulled him out of his reverie. He opened his mouth to respond, but, "We can put him in the basement," Mabel blurted. "He should be safe there, right?"

"Is that where the portal is?" Gideon hadn't found any basement while searching for the first Journal, back when Pacifica stole the Museum from the Pines.

Ford nodded and gestured to the Employees Only door. "It's through there, behind the vending machine. You wouldn't go down to the portal, though. You'd stay on the top level."

"How would I be safe in there?" Gideon asked. He doubted anywhere could be safe, given that Bill knew where he was at all times.

"Only I know the code to get behind the vending machine," Ford said, "and Bill can't see into my mind."

That sounded familiar. Gideon tilted his head, trying to remember.

"He has a metal plate in his head," Mabel said when she saw his confused expression. "It keeps Bill out."

Gideon nodded in recognition. Now he remembered: When Pacifica had first summoned Bill, the demon had told them about Stanford's metal plate. "You're welcome to stay in the room behind the vending machine," Ford said. "No one would be able to get in unless you opened the door for them."

"Perfect," Gideon said.

"But, if you come out for anything, you won't be able to get back in," Ford warned him. "I'll be out looking for Stanley."

Both Gideon and Mabel looked up at him in surprise. "Now?" asked Mabel.

"When else?"

"But we don't know where he is," Gideon pointed out.

"Then I'll find him. Bill won't be able to track me."

"But Grunkle Ford, you can't go alone," Mabel protested. "It's too dangerous. You're still injured."

Ford scowled. "I'll be fine. I'll ask the supernatural creatures for help."

"They don't know about Lincoln," Gideon said. "Usually the leader of the Order is a sort of diplomat to the supernatural, but not Lincoln. He stays hidden in the Order headquarters. Wherever he is, Bill would've made sure that only he and Lincoln knew where that was. Your best bet is to wait for him to come back."

"And when's that?"

"I don't know," Gideon said. "Bill knows I've told you about Lincoln. He'll probably try to keep him away from you as long as possible. But it's chaos out there, from what I saw, and the Order needs Lincoln's leadership to get things under control."

Ford's brow furrowed. "Then I'll go to the Order," he said, "and I'll wait there."

"What?" Mabel burst out. "Grunkle Ford, Pacifica's there! She'll hurt you!"

"I can take care of her," Ford said tightly. "She doesn't have her fancy memory gun anymore, so she can't make me forget."

That caught Gideon's attention. "Memory gun?"

Ford glanced to him. "Yes, she had a gun that erased memories. She was going to make me forget about Stanley all over again, but we destroyed it before that could happen. Did you not know about it?"

Gideon's mouth set into a thin line. "No, but some strange things make sense now." He met Ford's eyes and added, "Stanford, don't. . . don't hurt Pacifica. She's just doing what Bill tells her. Don't hurt her."

Ford grimaced. "If she stays away from me, I won't. But I haven't forgotten how good she is at torturing people."

"Then why would you go anywhere near her?" cried Mabel.

Ford put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Because I'm not going to find Stanley here." He looked to Gideon. "Let's get you to the basement."

He gestured for Gideon to follow, then led him into the gift shop. Mabel joined them, much to Gideon's relief. Maybe she would be willing to join him in the basement. Maybe he wouldn't have to be alone.

Gideon and Mabel stood aside as Ford approached the vending machine and typed a code into the selection pad. The machine swung forward, revealing a simple passage behind.

Ford stepped inside and flicked a switch, which illuminated a lightbulb overhead. "Those stairs lead down to the elevator," he said, pointing out a staircase that descended to the left. "You're welcome anywhere in this top area, but don't go down the elevator, understood? Can I have your word?"

As curious as Gideon was to see this portal, he wasn't so curious as to disobey Stanford, especially when he was offering him protection. "I won't go near it," he promised.

"Do you need anything?" Mabel asked. "Some food, or a book?"

A book.

Gideon's stomach flipped as he realized: The first Journal was here. He'd searched desperately for this book, and now it was here. He could finally read it, if he could get his hands on it. And. . . and Mabel was practically offering it to him.

"Gideon?" prompted Mabel.

"Some food would be great," he said. Before he could second-guess himself, he added, "Could I also read the first Journal?" He glanced to Stanford.

The Author nodded. Excitement flared in Gideon's chest.

Mabel left to go get the items, and Gideon waited in silence with Ford. Mabel soon returned with the first Journal, a plastic container of food, and a fork. "We only have cold leftovers, but they're Melody's leftovers," she said, as if that meant it were a gourmet meal. Gideon eyed the container dubiously — he doubted it was anywhere close to the quality of food he was used to — but he accepted it nonetheless.

Once the container was safely tucked under Gideon's arm, Mabel handed him the first Journal. Gideon's breath caught in his throat as he saw the black "1" on the glinting gold trim. Would it really be this easy? All that searching, and, in the end, all he needed to do was ask nicely? He eagerly grasped the book with his free hand.

It took a moment for Mabel to let go. Her eyes met Gideon's with an incalculable stare. Then she dropped her hand.

With these supplies, Gideon had no more excuse to delay entering the basement. He stared into the bare room in front of him. Even with the first Journal, he knew that he would get lonely behind the vending machine. His eyes closed briefly, then reopened. He had to ask. She'd probably say no, but he at least had to ask. "Mabel," he said, turning to her, "will you join me?"

Mabel stared at him with startled eyes. Her surprise bled into apprehension, then pain. "Not yet," she finally said, her voice halting. "Not now."

The words swept through Gideon with destructive force. He wanted to ask why, to demand that she come with him — but he stopped himself. He knew why. "Okay," he said, even though it wasn't.

"I'll join you later," she said. "Maybe. I. . . I don't know."

If she didn't, he wouldn't be able to blame her. He didn't deserve her company, after all. That was why she wouldn't come with him: He had hurt her too much.

But it still stung that she refused him.

Gideon let out a breath and stepped into the room behind the vending machine. The staircase yawned into the darkness beside him, as if inviting him into its lonely abyss. He tore his eyes away from it and looked back to Mabel and Ford. "Thank you, Stanford, for giving me a place to stay. I wish you luck in finding your brother."

"Thank you for telling me about him," Ford replied. His voice was barely above a whisper.

Gideon nodded. Then his eyes flicked to Mabel's face. The pain there was unbearable to see, yet he couldn't look away. "I'm sorry," he told her. She didn't meet his eyes.

Ford closed the door, and Gideon watched Mabel until she disappeared behind the metal. Then he could see only the back of the vending machine.

The locking mechanism clicked into place, and Gideon was alone with his guilt.

~~~~~

Mabel's eyes lingered on the vending machine. Had she done the right thing? Shouldn't she have gone with Gideon? He didn't deserve to be alone.

But. . . she couldn't. She couldn't be with him right now. Just the sight of him, after finding out that he'd lied to her, again — it made her sick to her stomach.

Ford left the gift shop, headed for his lab, and Mabel followed him. That was another thing that made her feel sick: Ford was about to leave and go to the Order. He was going to put himself in danger, and for what? Stanley wasn't even there.

"Grunkle Ford, please don't go," she said. Ford kept a brisk pace; she had to hurry to keep up. "Stanley's not there, and I — I don't want you to get hurt again."

"Gideon said the Order needs him," Ford said. "He should be back soon. At the very least, I want Bill to know that I won't rest until I find my brother. He can't keep him from me forever."

They got to the lab; Ford grabbed a stun gun, some knockout patches, and Stan's brass knuckles. He stared at the brass knuckles for a second before slipping them into his pocket.

"Are you going to give those to him?" Mabel asked.

Ford looked to her, his expression full of pain. "I might have to use them on him," he said, forcing the words from his throat. "If. . . if he really is the leader of the Order, then he's. . ."

He didn't finish that sentence. Mabel's mind filled it in: Then he's our enemy. Then he's on Bill's side. Then he's evil.

In a panic, she shoved those thoughts from her mind. Stanley couldn't be evil. Surely there was some kind of misunderstanding. Surely he couldn't be on Bill's side.

Ford put a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be okay, Mabel," he said. "Go and spend some time with Dipper, all right? I'll be back soon."

"When?" Mabel asked.

Ford took a deep breath. "I don't know." He kissed her forehead, then leaned back and fixed his gaze on hers. "But I'll come back with Stanley."

Would he really? What had felt so certain yesterday now felt impossible.

Ford crossed to the lab door that led outside, pulling it open. He looked back at Mabel. "I'll bring him home," he promised.

Then he was gone.