Content warning: This chapter contains semi-graphic descriptions of child abuse and its effects.

Gideon could have changed into Dipper's pajamas in the attic, but he went back down to the bathroom.

Stanford and Lincoln sat on the couch, talking about their parents and a brother named Shermie. Gideon nodded to them as he came down the stairs. He didn't stop to talk to them.

The first Journal entry ran through his mind as he walked down the hallway. A field of glowing flowers. When the gel touched an injury, all discomfort ceased. It was like the injury had never happened.

Gideon's scars flared in pain, as if crying out for some relief of their own. Mabel's earlier hug had increased the pain a bit, though the scars were already hurting plenty. They had been all day. Gideon was able to focus despite them — indeed, the harrying events of the day made them easy to ignore by comparison — but reading the entry on the Northwest's Relief brought the pain back to the surface. Almost as if the pain itself were begging him to end its existence with this magical flower.

He passed by Ford's room and heard no sound from within, though he knew Melody was in there with Fiddleford. He continued to the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

The solitude in the bathroom felt relieving and oppressive at the same time. He'd been alone for hours behind that vending machine, and it had been awful waiting for his father to catch up with him. Then he'd spent time with the Pines, doing real family things, and it had been wonderful. Yet he still kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. And drop it would: It was just waiting for him to go to sleep. Gideon dreaded his dreams tonight, but he found himself less anxious than he thought he would be. Perhaps because he already knew that the nightmares would be terrible — so he didn't have to wonder about it.

With a deep breath, Gideon pulled off his sweater vest and started unbuttoning his shirt. Dipper's flannel pajamas rested on the counter, and Gideon hoped they would fit well enough to cover him. The last of the buttons came undone, and Gideon put his shirt and vest on the counter beside the pajamas. He kept his eyes averted for most of the process, and he closed them afterwards.

Then, with some effort, he raised his head, opened his eyes, and looked at himself in the mirror.

Red, pink, and white scars covered almost every available inch of uncovered skin. No scar went above his collar bone or past his wrists, but his chest and arms were a graveyard of past injuries. He didn't turn to look at his back, but he knew all too well that there were scars there, too. Looking at the scars somehow made them hurt more, so Gideon rarely did it. Usually, he changed clothes quickly with his eyes averted. Sometimes, though, he would do what he did tonight: take off his shirt and simply look at himself in the mirror.

He brushed the scars on his left arm with his right fingers. Was the Northwest's Relief really out there? Could it really make the scars stop hurting? Could it make them disappear?

As much as he hated his scars, Gideon felt surprisingly anxious at the thought of living without them. They were a part of him. A hated part, but. . . still there. He'd wished them gone countless times throughout his life. If he had a chance to find the Northwest's Relief, he would use it. Yet. . . the thought was still strange.

Mabel hadn't understood. He wasn't sure that he wanted her to understand. She'd looked at the Journal entry about the Northwest's Relief and assumed that it would simply help him with the pain directly after a session of punishment from Gaston's servants. She didn't seem to consider the aftereffects. She didn't seem to imagine that Gideon would have scars.

Gideon was simultaneously relieved and disappointed by this. On the one hand, if he told Mabel that her hugs caused him physical pain, then she'd probably stop touching him altogether — which thing he did not want. Even if it caused him pain, he still needed positive physical contact with other people. On the other hand, if he hid his scars from Mabel — like he did everyone else — then he wasn't sure if she'd ever truly know him.

The only people — the only living people — who knew about his scars were Bill, Gaston, and the servants who caused the scars in the first place. That these were the only people who would ever really know Gideon was a terrifying thought.

Gideon braced his hands on the counter. He should put on Dipper's pajama shirt and finish changing, but his eyes were fixated on his scars. That was another reason why he rarely looked at them: He had a hard time looking away. This time, as his eyes traced the patterns in his lacerated skin, he thought about the Northwest's Relief and about Mabel and about the good fortune that he wouldn't be getting any new scars tonight.

The doorknob turned.

Gideon jumped back as the door opened. His mind reached a boiling point of panic and vaporized into a thousand scattered thoughts. He moved to the door and tried to force it shut, but it was too late. The door was wide open.

Melody Ramirez stood on the other side.

Her eyes were huge as she took in the scars on Gideon's bare chest. She took a tentative step forward as Gideon tried in vain to come up with a coherent thought. Since he was already halfway there, he finished grabbing the door and pushing it closed.

Melody caught it.

"Gideon. . ."

"Get out." His voice was husky with fear. "You have to get out."

Melody did the opposite: She came into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Every movement she made forced Gideon back like a cornered animal. "Gideon, what is this?"

"Get out! Leave me alone!" His legs bumped against the bathtub on the far side of the bathroom, and he almost fell. "Go away!"

"It's okay." Melody put her hands out in a calming gesture. "I won't hurt you."

"Leave me alone!" He was desperate, but he didn't dare push past her. Her very presence trapped him in here.

"I won't hurt you," Melody repeated. "I just want to understand."

Gideon's eyes darted from Melody to the flannel pajamas that still rested on the counter. He took a risk and lunged for the pajama shirt, snatching it from the counter without touching Melody. He held it to his chest like a shield.

Even though the shirt wasn't on yet, he felt a little better with it pressed against him. Now he could think slightly less frantic thoughts, and he cursed himself for forgetting to lock the bathroom door. He never had to lock his bathroom door at the Manor, for no one would ever walk in on him without warning.

"Do you want my help putting that on?" Melody asked gently. She reached out, and Gideon's thoughts scattered again.

"No! Don't touch me!" He pulled his arms through the sleeves and frantically started working on the buttons, but his fingers were shaking too much to make any progress.

"Okay. I won't touch you. Let's just calm down."

"Calm! You can't just walk in on me like that! You can't — you can't see—" He abandoned his words and worked harder on the shirt buttons.

"I'm sorry," Melody said. "I saw something that you didn't want me to see. It's too late to change that. But I'm here to help. Just tell me what I can do."

"You can get out!" He'd managed to get the top two buttons fastened. How many were left? Too many.

"I can help you with those buttons," Melody said softly.

"No," he snarled. "Don't touch me." His original panic was beginning to subside into anger. "You've already done enough damage."

"What did I do?" Her tone was still soft and gentle. Gideon hated it.

"Well, for one, you won't leave me alone," he snapped. His anger helped his hands shake less, and he managed to get the buttons faster.

"Do you really want to be alone?" asked Melody.

His fingers froze on the last button. Then his eyes jumped up to hers, and he glared with full force. "Yes," he said. No, said a small voice in the back of his mind. But it was drowned out by his anger and panic.

"Okay," Melody said. "I can leave you alone. Can I get you something first? Pain-relieving salve?"

Gideon straightened his now-buttoned flannel shirt. "Tell me where it is, and I'll get it myself," he said.

"Okay." Melody opened the bathroom door. "I'll let you finish changing first."

He could hardly enjoy the privacy when she closed the door behind her. He hurriedly finished changing, discarding his shoes and trousers and putting on the flannel pajama pants. Thankfully, the pajamas covered him from his collarbone to his wrists and ankles. They must have been too big for Dipper, because they fit almost perfectly on Gideon. He spared only a thought for this good luck as he gathered up his clothes and shoes and opened the bathroom door.

"Where's the salve?" he demanded of Melody, who was waiting in the hall.

"In the kitchen. It's in the cupboard next to the refrigerator." Melody searched his face. "Gideon, if you ever want to talk—"

"No," Gideon interrupted. He started down the hall, away from Melody — then stopped and turned around. "Also," he said, "don't come upstairs tonight. No matter what you hear. If anyone wakes me up tonight, then I'll pay for it later. Got it?" If this lady really wanted to help, then she would stay out of his business.

"I don't understand," said Melody.

"I'm sure you're used to that," Gideon said nastily. "Do I have to explain it to you before you'll listen to me?"

"I would like an explanation," Melody said quietly.

Gideon took a harsh breath. "Fine. Bill Cipher is sending me nightmares tonight. I'm sure they'll be terrible, because he's good at that. They're my punishment for telling you people about Blind Lincoln, who was supposed to be a secret. If you wake me up, then Cipher will just punish me longer. Do not wake me up. Do you understand now?"

"Yes." Melody didn't bat an eye at the terrible way Gideon was treating her. "And I'll be here in the morning if you need support afterwards."

"I don't need it from you." Gideon turned on his heel and stalked off.

He went to the kitchen, found the tube of salve, and hurried up the stairs. Ford and Lincoln (who were still on the couch) called softly after him, but he ignored them. He dropped the tube on the floor, flopped onto his air mattress (which was bound to make him sore, unlike his soft bed at the Manor), and tried to catch his breath.

Melody saw. She saw his scars. She saw his scars when he didn't want to show them to her. Now she knew, and she'd tell everyone. She'd tell everyone why Gideon wore long sleeves all the time. Why he sometimes flinched when people touched him. She'd let out all his secrets, and everyone would hate him.

These were the thoughts that ran through Gideon's mind as he tried to calm himself and go to sleep. Not that sleep would be any consolation: He was sure that Bill would find plenty of nightmare fuel in Gideon's experience with Melody. But he longed for the space between waking and dreaming, where he wasn't aware of anything whatsoever. He longed for that temporary oblivion.

Instead, he had a painful awareness of his racing heart and his uncomfortable bed.

When sleep finally claimed him, Gideon had almost convinced himself that Bill's nightmares would be the better situation.

~~~~~

Mabel woke to the sound of screaming.

She shot upright in bed. Her eyes searched the darkness for the source of the screaming, until she realized that it was coming from outside the room. It was hoarse and guttural and loud.

It was Gideon.

Her heart raced. His screams were terrible to hear, and she wanted desperately to cover her ears. But she couldn't. It felt like a betrayal. She couldn't just ignore Gideon's pain.

But he'd made her promise not to wake him up, so she couldn't relieve it, either.

"Mabel?" came Dipper's voice, just audible under the screams. "Do you want to go downstairs? If we take our pillows and blankets, I bet Melody would let us sleep next to her."

That felt like running away, which seemed even worse than covering her ears. "You can," she said. "I'm staying here."

"You can't wake him up," Dipper reminded her.

"I know." But I can still be there for him.

Dipper took his pillow and blanket and pig (who thankfully didn't add to the screaming, though he did sound distressed) and left. Mabel joined Dipper in leaving the room, but she didn't follow him down the stairs.

Gideon was so loud that she could hardly hear the stairs creak under Dipper's feet.

She had her own pillow under her arm, and she sat on it. She'd brought a flashlight from the room, but she didn't turn it on. Gideon thrashed and moaned and screamed, and she didn't need to see him to imagine the pained and twisted look on his face. Every sound from him set her nerves on edge, until she thought she'd explode. But she didn't dare move a muscle.

It wasn't too long before she could make out words in Gideon's screams. There were obvious ones (no, stop, please) but also specific ones (Order, amulet, memory) and names (Melody, Pacifica, Mabel). When Gideon first called Mabel's name, she jumped so violently that she thought she might hit the ceiling. "Mabel — get away from Mabel — no, I need to get to Mabel—"

And, worst of all: "Mabel, help me."

It was then that she started covering her ears.

"Help. Mabel, help!" he pled in his sleep. Mabel covered her ears and rocked back and forth on her pillow. She wished he would wake up. She wished he would stop calling her name. She wished Bill would stop sending these nightmares.

"Evi, help me get to Mabel!" he called. That was another name that he used: Evi. Mabel had no idea who that was, but he called that name almost more than Mabel's. He alternated between begging Mabel or Evi to help him and telling someone else to leave Mabel or Evi alone. Sometimes he'd call for Ford or Lee or even, once, Dipper.

None of the people he called would come to his aid.

Tears soon streamed down Mabel's face, and she wanted to get up and run away and never return. But she forced herself to stay. She had to be here for Gideon. If he woke up, he needed to know that someone cared. It was the only thing she could think of that would show support besides waking him up herself.

The screaming wasn't constant, since Gideon went in and out of REM sleep; but it was loud and spontaneous, and it startled Mabel every time. She was so exhausted that she dozed off between his REM cycles, and he'd yank her out of her sleep every time a new nightmare began. It felt like hours that she sat there, dozing and waking and listening and dozing again, before he shot upright in bed. The screaming cut off, rather than dying down, and Mabel could hear heavy, ragged breathing.

He was awake.

She shifted on her pillow, taking her hands off her ears, and Gideon's breath hitched. "Who's there?" he demanded.

Mabel put her hand over her flashlight and switched it on, creating a warm orange glow rather than a beam of light. "It's Mabel," she said quietly.

Gideon's breathing calmed a bit, though it wasn't even. After a long moment, he asked, "How long have you been sitting there?"

"I. . . I don't know." She moved the flashlight so that the beam was facing the wall, and it cast a small ambient light around the room. Now she could see Gideon's silhouette, sitting up in bed, tangled in his blankets.

"Was I making noise?"

"You. . . you were screaming."

Gideon went still, and his ragged breathing stopped. "I'm sorry," he finally said.

"I wanted. . ." The tears were back, and Mabel found it hard to speak. "I wanted to wake you up."

"I'm glad you didn't," he said sincerely. "Thank you."

"How can you say that?" Her voice took on an edge of hysteria. "How could you wake up from — from that and thank me for not stopping it sooner?"

"Because that would only make it worse in the long run." She saw Gideon wipe at his eyes, though in this dim light she couldn't tell whether they were wet. Seeing the action made her own eyes itch, and she wiped at the tear tracks on her face.

"Did I say anything?" Gideon asked after a moment. "In my sleep?"

Mabel nodded. "You were, um, calling people's names. Like. . . like mine." She still felt horribly guilty for not answering his calls for help, even though she'd promised that she wouldn't.

Gideon was quiet.

"You also called f-for someone named Evi," Mabel added. "Who, um. . . who is that?"

She saw him go rigid again. "Gideon?" she prompted. She knew it was rude to push him, but she was extremely curious.

He deflated. "Evi. . . Evi is a nickname," he said. "For Everly Grace."

Mabel waited for him to explain who that was.

"She was my sister," he finally said.

Mabel wasn't sure which word surprised her more: sister or was. "You had a sister?" she whispered.

"Yes." Gideon turned away. "She's dead."

Mabel's heart skipped a beat. What happened? was the first question on her tongue, but she forced herself not to say it. She didn't know what to say.

"So, understandably, Cipher thinks she's a great addition to my nightmares," Gideon added.

"Gideon, I. . ." She didn't know how she was going to end that sentence. "I wish Bill would leave you alone."

He sighed. "That's not happening yet," he said.

She looked away.

"Mabel?" he said, and she looked back at him. "Thank you. Thanks for being here. But. . . I don't want you sitting here listening to me instead of getting your sleep."

This was both painful and relieving to hear. "Dipper went downstairs," she said. "I. . . I don't know if it's any quieter, but I guess I could join him."

"I feel bad forcing you out of your room, but. . . that might be best."

Mabel tried to meet his eyes in the dim light. "I don't want to leave you alone," she whispered.

He hesitated. "I'll survive," he said.

Mabel still didn't move.

"Please, Mabel. I'd feel guilty knowing that I kept you up all night. I want you to get some sleep if you can."

He was right. Gideon would still be here in the morning — he would survive the night — and Mabel should get some sleep so that she could greet him tomorrow. She knew the logic of it, but she still felt like she was abandoning him as she stood and scooped up her pillow and flashlight.

"Can you leave the flashlight here?" Gideon asked.

"S-sure," she said. She tossed it gently over to him, and the beam flew every which way around the room. She brushed the dust off her pillow and went back into her room to grab a blanket. When she returned, the flashlight was off, and Gideon was breathing softly.

"Mabel," he said as she stood at the top of the stairs. "Thank you."

It didn't feel like she deserved his thanks. She was abandoning him. But she took a deep breath and said, "I'll see you in the morning."

She walked down the stairs, leaving Gideon alone to face the nightmares.