"You know, it'd be nice if the quiet weren't so freaking creepy."

Dipper blinked at his sister's words, casting a look back over his shoulder as they walked through the forest. "I didn't think you liked silence."

"Sometimes it's nice!" she fired back, folding her arms and almost falling over a tree root. "Ow."

He turned back and went over to help her steady herself. While she shook the sting out of her left foot, he glanced around at the swaying trees. "Yeah. I think I'm with you about the creepy factor, though. Where are the birds?"

"We probably scared them away with our stupid hammering." In their wake they'd left a new trail of yellow arrows to guide anyone in the woods to the Mystery Shack. "Why does Grunkle Stan even need these signs? There's nobody out here but us."

"You underestimate how dumb a tourist can be," he said, stopping and blinking at himself. "Man, I even think like him now."

Mabel giggled for a few seconds, so loud she covered her mouth. "Poor Dip. It happened to me too, though. Remember when I was the boss?"

Dipper slapped his forehead and groaned. "Ugh, don't remind me. I thought that gremloblin was gonna kill everybody."

As they weaved and struggled through the undergrowth, a potent gust of wind arose that smacked the trees around. A cloud passed in front of the sun, although the sky was still mostly blue. As Mabel stopped to free the sleeve of her pink sweater from a thorny vine, her brother took in the scene.

"At least you see what I mean about this place. I always feel like there are eyes on me in here." He snapped his gaze over as Mabel extracted her arm with a loud grunt, then shook her arms and growled. "You okay?"

She nodded, but an open-mouthed frown marred her face. "Fine, but now I'm gonna have to re-knit this sleeve. And I'm out of pink yarn!"

He couldn't help but chuckle. Another gust killed his laugh, however, and he looked up at the sky. "We'd better go. I don't think we want to get caught in a pop-up thunderstorm."

"What could possibly go wrong?" Mabel asked, falling in beside him as he started off. "I mean, we're only surrounded by tall objects that would attract like, all the lightning." She was absolutely serious, but her smile faded to blankness as she processed her own words. "Ooooh. Oh. That be bad."

They only needed a few minutes more to emerge from the trees, coming into the clearing next to the bottomless pit. Mabel stopped once more, crouching repeatedly in place.

"What are you doing?" Dipper asked, blinking at her as she bobbed up and down. "You can exercise inside. Where the lightning won't be."

"Oh, calm your dipsticks, bro," she countered, grunting. She placed her hands on her knees and continued to stretch. "I messed up my leg back there. Roots are dumb. Trees should just drink from cans like the rest of us."

Above them, the sun faded even further behind a rolling tower of fluffy white. "All right, if you say so. I'm going on ahead." She waved him off; he shrugged and spun on his heel to walk away.

"Owie, owie," she breathed, grimacing at the tweaked sensation in her left leg. "I'm sorry, knee. Please work so I don't get electrocuted, okay?"

She froze as a whisper reached her ears, barely audible above the breeze. Immediately she stared at her balky joint. "Kn-knee? You can talk? I have knee people? Ohmygosh, my body is full of skeleton fairies!" She slapped her hands to her cheeks and stood straight, gazing off with wide eyes. "This is awe-"

Another whisper drifted by, but this one tickled the back of her skull and made her frown. Unnerved, she hugged herself against the wind and glanced about. "Th-that's no knee..." The noise was thrown about by the air, but an icy tingle down her spine told her exactly where its source was. She whirled around and found herself staring into the empty forest. "Hello?" Everything in her sight was moving, twisted by the wind. Past the first few trees, the insides of the forest were made invisible by the moving shadow. "Please be someone nice and not a total serial killer?"

The whispers ceased abruptly, as did the flow of air. As the trees grew still, she could see much farther into the woods, only to find nothing of interest within. Still uneasy, she turned to leave. A flash of black swept across her sight and froze her again. She looked back at the spot, boring holes into it with her anxious eyes, but nothing was there.

"Time to go," she whispered, so rattled her instinct was speaking more so than her conscious thoughts. "Time to go, time to goooooo..." Despite the gentle protests of her leg, she ran headlong toward the shack's side door, throwing herself through it after she got it open. Almost reflexively, she pressed her back against it once it was shut, only to realize she was staring at a confused Dipper as the cloud of fear lifted.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he commented idly, swishing a can of Pitt in his hand. His eyes shifted with a thought that made him smirk. "Another ghost, I mean." Mabel didn't laugh or smile at his remark, snapping him into seriousness. "Mabel? Are you all right?"

In a second's width of time, she took his theory and tried to fit it to the memory of the inky smear that now poked at her brain. Vehemently, her logic refused this as an answer; the denial only served to make her tremble in her heart-splashed sweater. "F-fine," she stammered, raising up off the door and taking a shaky step forward. "My leg just hurts."

"Oh." His eyes said he didn't believe her, but the way she acted deterred him from pressing further. "Go lie down. I'll come up and hang out with you in a few minutes."

"Yeah! I'll do that. That's a good idea, uh...yeah," she nodded frantically, darting away and up the stairs as fast as her gimpy limb would allow. She flew into the attic and onto her bed, shoving her face into the pillow as she lay down. "Brain, help me out here. I just saw a crow, right? A wombat? A gnome assassin?" Analyzing it made her shake again, but for some reason she was physically exhausted. As she drifted to sleep, the last noise she heard was her brother walking in and climbing onto his bed.

When Mabel's eyes slid open again, darkness greeted them. Sitting up, she first looked above at the triangle window and blinked at the stars beyond. Despite having been out for several hours, her body still felt drained beyond belief. Groaning quietly, she scooted over and stood up, scratching at her side with a yawn. Across the way, Dipper was asleep, back turned to her as he snoozed.

"I thought sleep was supposed to be good for you," she droned, wandering out of the room. The house was filled with gentle quiet, save for the incessant snore that flowed from behind their great uncle's bedroom door. Wearily, she entered the bathroom and fumbled with the light switch before walking over to the sink. "Ugh, I feel like I got run over by the dream bus." She peered at her reflection. "I even look like it." She splashed her face with cold water to fully wake up. A faint noise behind her forced her to look over her shoulder. "Dipper?" She moved to the door and poked her head out, but found herself alone. "Uh?" The noise came again, although this time it sounded like it originated from the bathtub. Almost annoyed, she stalked over and peered behind the curtain. Nothing was there.

"What the blankety-blank?" she growled, hearing the whisper again. As her mind began to consider the possibilities, an answer borne of her unique experiences pushed itself to the forefront. Somehow, the idea of the whisper attached itself to the smear of black she saw earlier, and the result of the equation made Mabel grit her teeth. "It is a gnome assassin. Dang it!"

Angry, she moved back into their bedroom, silently retrieving a flashlight from Dipper's nightstand. With it in hand, she crept down the stairs and out the side door, shining the beam into the dark forest. "Jeff! I am not going to be your gnome queen! Call off the tiny murderer!" she yelled, heading toward the woods. Before she knew it, she had gone deep into the trees in pursuit of her tiny foe. As she whirled in circles, her flashlight lit up nothing but tree trunks. "Oh boy. Gnome ninja has me right where he wants me." She growled and kept on walking. "I'm warning you! Come at me and I will feed you your beard hair!"

She kept going, tripping over roots and branches a few times before coming to a stop before a trunk that bore a yellow arrow. "This way to the Mystery Shack," she read out loud, unable to help the smile which followed. "Grunkle Stan, your greed has delivered me from a terrible fate." Whistling lowly, she followed the trail of signs until the whisper again nagged at her mind. This time, it was accompanied by a strange itchy sensation at the base of her skull, which she scratched at idly. "Jeff, I know where you live. Roughly. I'll totally drop a cherry bomb in your stupid cave palace." The beam of her flashlight streaked across a black form, causing her to shriek with fear. "No! No! I'm sorry! Please have mercy, gnome of death!" Once she shined the light there again, she realized this was something not at all gnome-sized. "Oh thank goodness, you're a people. Hey, are you lost?"

Upon approaching, she realized this was someone in a suit – a tall someone, whose upper half was obscured against the void of branches above. The jacket was black, as was the tie, but the shirt under both was white. "You scared the-" she paused, growling at how loud the whispers had gotten. "Ignore that. It's a jilted gnome. Anyway, follow me!"

She started walking, but the figure did not follow. "Come on, seriously. The signs aren't lying. I put some of them up my own self." When she got no reply, she put a hand on her hip and frowned. "You don't talk much, do you?" On a whim, she shone the flashlight at the figure's face.

It had none.

Mabel giggled a little, in spite of the tingling cloud of confusion spreading through her brain. "Summerween was a while ago, guy, but nice costume." She looked back into its missing visage for the seams of the mask, but there weren't any. "I...uh..."

Abruptly, she turned away, her motions now controlled by fear. Eyes bulging, she began to walk, one unsteady footstep at a time. The whispers chased her as she went; after a few yards of travel the girl was sweating profusely with unbridled terror. She could not make herself move any faster, no matter how loudly her brain screamed. In fact, her gait just got slower the further she moved, until every step was a trembling struggle.

"Please help me," she said, almost as if the phrase were part of idle conversation. Her hands shook fiercely, causing the flashlight beam to dance around through the forest. "Dipper? Grunkle Stan?" Through sheer force of will, she turned and cast the light behind her. The faceless one had vanished. This didn't help her feel any better, but it did help her start to move. "Oh man, oh man," she whimpered, breaking into a run. By some miracle, she managed not to fall during her dash, and burst from the woods near the totem pole. A cursory glance at the house informed her that she hadn't woken anyone up. All the windows were dark. Panting for air, she placed a hand on her chest and felt her racing heart.

"It's okay," she said, hauling herself through the side door of the house. Gingerly, she closed it and tip-toed up the stairs. "Just another creepy thing in this creepy town with the creepy woods and the creepy books and the creepy ghosts. Nooooo big deal at all."

After turning off the flashlight, she sneaked back into the attic and crawled into bed, lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling in an attempt to collect herself. Off to her left, Dipper let out a snore. She didn't even glance at the noise.

"Let's go over all the things that wasn't," she whispered, clasping her hands on her chest. "Not a gnome. Unless that was like, their ancient gnome god, summoned to gain revenge? Nah, I don't think a gnome god would wear a suit." She scratched at her hair and frowned at the feeling it caused. "Vampire? No fangs." The image of the faceless man made her tremble unhappily. She clutched at her head and shook the image out. "Not a zombie." The blank visage was still stuck in the front of her brain, floating like a lump of ice. "Please, no..."

Only one item would help her achieve any peace now: Dipper's precious book, the compendium of weird that encompassed of all Gravity Falls. It would surely be in there, and once she knew just what to do, she could fall asleep and take care of it in the morning. She sat up and gazed through the dark, searching for the book. It was too dim to see the distance, so she rose and shuffled over to his side of the room. He was sleeping on it; she could barely see the cover under him.

"Erk. Guess I gotta wait," she whispered, moving back to her bed and lying down. She kicked off her shoes and tried to get comfortable before attempting to nod off. Every time she let her eyes shut, she saw it again. "Forget it!" she exclaimed lowly, tears clinging to her cheeks. "I d-don't need sleep anyway."

With teeth faintly chattering, she started the arduous task of passing the night.

"Mabel!"

Some seconds went by before her brain actually detected the worried voice of her brother. Her eyes were open, but saw nothing; she had fallen asleep with them that way at some point during the night. Now that she could feel again, they were bitterly dry. Standing over her was Dipper, staring down with some restrained form of panic.

"I'm up!" she replied cheerfully, although after a moment she realized her joints were stiff. Helpless, she glanced up at the morning light that came in through the window. "I can't get up."

Dipper rubbed a hand under his hat and sighed with relief. "You looked dead for a second. When did you start sleeping with your eyes open?"

Mabel had forgotten last night until that moment. The happy overtone of her thoughts shattered. In her mind, hands reached out in desperation to piece it together without success. "I saw a thing," she said gravely, at last hauling herself upright and blinking. "Ow, my eyes..."

"Hold on, you can have some of my eyedrops." He moved away and over to his duffel bag. He struggled a moment with the zipper, then started to rummage inside. "What did you see?"

Hands wringing with dread, she watched him dig through his belongings. "Guy in a suit. No face." The last two words rattled in her thoughts, drawing out a sensation that made her want to sob. She swallowed the feeling and tried to keep calm. He returned with a little white bottle and tossed it to her. "Thanks. Can I look at your weird book?"

"Sure," he nodded, contemplating her description. "Guy in a suit with no face. Weird."

Mabel tilted her head back and squeezed a drop into her aching eyes. "That hurts in a nice way," she groaned, closing them and letting the fluid soak in. The empty face appeared again before her mind's eye, causing her to yelp with terror.

Dipper screamed in sympathy, nearly dropping the tome as he whirled to face his sister. "What?! What happened?"

Her eyes were still shut; half out of need to soothe their dryness, and half because they were slammed closed with panic. "I see it now! I see it now!"

He rushed over and sat on the bed, tearing through the pages. Mabel whimpered beside him, urging him to look faster, read faster, be faster. The text and pictures held nothing like what she described. "I don't see it in here!"

"B-b-b-but everything is in there," she whined helplessly, forcing her eyes open and wincing with the act. "Do you hear something whispering?"

Dipper stared at her, then off in a random direction as his brain routed priority to his ears. "No, I don't," he said, closing the book and giving her a concerned glance. "Wait, I think I might have an idea. I'll be right back."

Being alone was not something that appealed to her, but in the interests of at least feeling as if she had control, she waved him off with a smile and watched him go. Once he vanished, the tears flowed freely. "Please leave me alone," she said, hugging her knees to her chest and staring out. A persistent itch at the base of her skull made things worse. She scratched it, but it wouldn't go away. Some time passed before she saw her brother again, and when he arrived an odd look was etched on his face. "What? You look like you just saw Stan skinny dipping."

He doffed his hat and sighed, rubbing at his brown hair. "Mabel, if I told you I just learned of a tall guy that kidnaps children all over the planet and is virtually unstoppable, what would you say?"

Her answer wasn't words; instead, she grabbed her blanket, slid back into the corner, and hid. Little squeaks of fear escaped from her lips the entire way.

"Yeah. I figured." An awkward smile appeared as he put his hat back on. "But...he's not real. It's something some guy made up on a forum or something." She emerged from under the fluffy thing and pinned him down with an unhappy look as he walked closer. "No, seriously. It's possible you might have seen him somewhere, then because Gravity Falls is so...I don't know, Gravity Falls-y, you thought him into existence."

"Where would I have seen him?!" she snapped, scratching at the base of her skull again. "I don't like horror movies, or books, or anything dark! Except that one movie with the zombie kittens but, come on, kittens."

"Hey, I'm not saying you went looking for it, but a guy with a no face would leave an impression. It might have been something you saw in passing that bothered you more than you thought at the time." Mabel reluctantly came out from her fortification and sat beside him. He gave her a quick hug, then a more genuine smile. "Let's think. Did either of us see somebody dressed like him on Summerween?"

She rolled her eyes around and shrugged a lot, trying to sift through the near-death experience that was the holiday. "The only one I remember being all faceless and scary was the candy that tried to eat us."

"Same," Dipper nodded, rubbing his chin. "Wendy said there were a few dressed like him at Tambry's party, but neither of us saw those."

Last night's events were in full focus, and their mental weight made Mabel distinctly uncomfortable. She tossed the pillow aside, opting to hug her knees. "Wasn't a costume," she muttered, frowning so hard it looked painful.

Seeing her upset, Dipper gave her another hug. When he pulled away this time, however, his eyes were as serious as she'd ever seen. "If it wasn't a costume, then it has to be the town's magic, or whatever – again. Take me to where you saw him. I'm going to figure this out."

Twenty minutes later, the twins were trundling around in the undergrowth of a stand of ancient cedar trees. The shack had long been lost behind them in the wall of trunks; the only thing strong enough to pierce the forest here was the cheerful sunlight from above. Mabel had lead the way along a path of signs they'd hung up, then took a left into the woods at large. As Dipper scanned the ground for clues, she stood quietly by and glanced at every motion that caught the corner of her sight.

"This was a bad idea," she murmured. It was eighty-eight degrees – hotter still in her dolphin emblazoned, gray sweater – but she shivered powerfully. "Dip! What are you doing?"

He was on all fours, peering at the mossy earth. "Investigating. This is what investigating looks like." He yelped as something crawled onto his hand. "Spider! Deadly spider!"

She watched him panic and run around. The offending creature was flung off of his hand and landed on her sleeve; she looked down and rolled her eyes. "It's a ladybug, you dork."

"Aha! S-so it is," he said, laughing nervously. After brushing off his vest, he realized just how weary his sister seemed. "Are you okay?"

"No." Even the admission of her uncertainly made it worse, and she took to hugging herself again. "I feel weird out here now. Like something's watching me."

"No kidding," Dipper nodded, almost glad that someone else understood the feeling he'd had for so long about the forest. "Hey, uh...you want to go back? I can take it from here."

She deflated with relief, but the idea of leaving him out here alone with that awful thing made her skin crawl. "Are you sure you'll be okay?" she asked, dropping her arms.

"If nothing else, I can go grab some crystals, shrink him, then step on him." They both laughed at the thought, although Mabel's giggle was unusually hollow. "Seriously, go. Grab some lunch and knit something."

She blinked at his suggestion and grinned widely. "That's a good idea."

They parted company. Mabel had to take great care in making her way back to the beaten path; on top of everything else, her leg was still sore. Once she reached the corridor of arrows and started following them, she reached down and rubbed at her knee. "Ow." For the first time since yesterday, no noise was waiting on the edge of her hearing, although her head still itched. "Need to fix my other sweater anyway." Before her mind could travel to more idle thoughts, a starkly loud whisper tickled the back of her neck. It was so clear, she had only one explanation for it.

"Dipper?" she asked, turning around and looking back up the path. He wasn't there. "Oh, no, not again." Spooked, she started to run, but a scream from behind forced her to stop and turn again. "Dipper!"

"Aaaah!" His voice bounced off seemingly every tree trunk. A few terrifying seconds passed. "Never mind! Just a pine cone!"

Knowing full well he'd tacked that on just for her benefit, she couldn't help but laugh with relief. "Boy, you're gonna get yourself killed one of these days." She started off again toward the house. "Gonna have a sandwich and hug my pig. Then I'll feel better." Something between two trees caught her attention. As she moved past, she stared at the spot. It turned out to be a dead branch, likely dislodged by yesterday's breeze. "Nothing. Totally nothing." She could still feel a swell of panic approaching, and so picked up her pace. "Nothing's happening! Nothing-"

Its upper half tilted out ahead of her between trunks. It was hidden from the waist down, but towered over the ground regardless. In the sunlight, she could see far more detail – or at least, how much detail was missing that should have been there. Its head was like an egg, flawless and white, though little dents were placed where eyes would normally go. Its suit was equally unnerving, made of something so black it seemed to suck light away.

A shriek became lodged in Mabel's throat. Not knowing what else to do, she turned her back on it and tried to move to where Dipper was still yelling about harmless woodland objects, but her legs were frozen stiff. The only motion she could extract from them was to turn around again. It had gone.

"Why?" she pleaded hoarsely, fighting with her muscles. "Have to go. Have to go." Her legs finally yielded, but she was limited to a fast walk. "I'm too cute to get eaten, thing. I'm not even yummy. I taste like yarn and glitter!" Her heart was pounding viciously. "Gonna faint...gonna faint..." Gulping air, she looked for a comfortable spot to tip over, but saw that the clearing – and the house – were only a hundred feet away. "Come on, Mabel, pass out in that direction!"

Wobbly and panting, she stumbled out of the woods and nearly fell into the bottomless pit. After steadying herself against the sign, she rubbed at the base of her skull. A long glance around revealed that it had not followed her; or perhaps she was too terrified to see it. "Okay. Get to the door. J-just get to the door." The nearest entrance was the porch with the yellow couch. She traced a zig-zag path to the steps, but before she could even reach porch level it was there again, leering above the door from the left hand corner. It even bent to compensate for the low ceiling, and as a result was staring from a much closer distance. Mabel startled and fell back down the steps, landing with a grunt on her back. It had vanished when she lifted her head again. Emitting a series of unhappy noises, she crawled up the steps, not attempting to stand before she reached the doorknob. She had to struggle to get it open. Once inside, she tottered through the house until running into Wendy in the kitchen.

"Whoa!" The redhead set down her can of Pitt and helped steady Mabel just as she started to fall over. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

Mabel was breathless in her arms and silent for several seconds. "S-saw it again," she finally squeezed out, hunching over once she got her feet under her. "In t-the woods. O-on the side porch."

Wendy looked off through the doorway, her expression unreadable. "Dude, that's just some dumb internet story."

Mabel did not react well to her dismissal. "Internet stories do not hover over the door and stare at me!" she yelled, hands clenched into tight fists. "They don't pop out from between trees!"

The redhead was stunned by the stress in her voice and tried to clarify her previous statement. "Look, I'm not saying you're not seeing something," she said, kneeling down, "but that tall dude is just made up. Could it be a ghost?"

"I d-don't know," Mabel replied, her tone dropping into utter helplessness. She sat down on the floor involuntarily, right hand scratching at the back of her head. "I just want it to stop."

"That weird book of Dipper's didn't have anything?" Wendy blinked as Mabel shook her head. "Wow. Man, I don't know what to tell you." The redhead gave her a tight hug and rose to her feet. "Should I tell Stan?"

"He wouldn't believe me." Mabel also got up, but needed a moment to secure her balance. "Dipper and I can handle it. Somehow. We always do." She looked up at Wendy and flashed a weak smile. "Is there anything else to the story? Besides the kidnapping part, I mean."

"He's supposed to be invincible. God-like powers and stuff, too. Makes people go nuts." Wendy grabbed her soda off the table and took a long swig. "Something wrong with your hair?"

Mabel stopped scratching and blinked, hiding her arm behind her back. "No. Nothing." The redhead's face said she didn't buy it, so Mabel relented a little. "Itchy. Dunno why. Probably because Stan makes me hang signs in the woods all day." Her anger was mocking enough for Wendy to smile.

"That's whatcha get for being slave labor. There's some pizza in the oven, by the way. You look like you could use some." She strode out with a wave, leaving the younger girl to glance around tensely. When it failed to appear, Mabel breathed a heavy sigh.

"I just need to calm down," she muttered, opening the oven and looking inside. "Ooooo, jalapeno peppers. At least those will knock me unconscious." She reached in and grabbed a slice, pushed the door closed, then started toward the living room. As she ate, she scoured the house for her precious pig, but couldn't find him. "Shoot. He's probably stuck under something. Waddles?" she called, wandering up the stairs. She reached their room in the attic without finding any sign of him. Grumbling, she finished off the slice of pizza and fanned herself with her sweater's neck. "Soos must have asked for extra...phew..." Teetering faintly, she wandered over to her bed and felt under it for her knitting kit. Just as her fingers touched one of the needles, a whisper blew by her ears. She fell to the floor and looked back over her shoulder.

It was standing there by Dipper's bed, arms at its sides. Mabel wanted desperately to scream at the top of her lungs, but the sound got stuck and went no further than her throat. The panic built up instead, until finally she had no other choice but to faint where she lay.

When awareness found her again, Mabel realized she was a lot warmer than when she'd passed out. Feeling around, she noted a blanket was covering her, but also that she was still on the floor. Grunting, she rolled onto her back to look around, but ended up bumping into Dipper. He was sitting by her, snoring lightly. Rather, he was until the impact jarred him awake.

"Mhmph? Oh, you're up. I..." He paused, flushing with embarrassment and doffing his cap. "I couldn't lift you into bed. I really need to work out more."

"Noodle arms," she droned mockingly. Sitting up was a difficult task; the floor left her torso stiff and sore. Her hair was a disaster. She felt around behind her for her hairband and placed it on, then glanced about with weary eyes. "I saw it again, Dip. In the woods. Then it followed me in here."

"I guessed that something happened," he sighed, helping her by dusting off her sweater. "I couldn't find anything. I don't know what to do."

Mabel frowned at the frustration that leaked into his voice. "If it's not in your book, then I don't even kn-" Her eyes lit up with a passing spark of thought. Awkwardly, she closed her hands in her lap and started to mumble.

"What?" Dipper blinked as she looked away. "What?" She still refused to answer, so he took to elbowing her in the side. "Mabel, talk to me. I saw that look. What are you thinking?"

She peered out the window above at the afternoon sky and let out a dramatic groan. "I have an idea, but-"

He didn't wait for her to finish, hopping to his feet and offering her a hand up. "Then what are we waiting for?"

His smile was heartbreaking, but she tried hard to return it. She took his hand and hauled herself to her feet, wincing at the pain in her knee. "You can't come with me."

Dipper stared forever, then broke out into a nervous laugh. "You're kidding." Her face said otherwise; he blinked several times and let his shoulders slump. "Mabel, no. Every time you're alone, this thing shows up. Why the heck would I not go with you?"

"You'll be mad at me," she replied, fidgeting timidly and backing away. When he shook his head in denial, her conflicted feeling only got worse. "Yes you will. Oh man, you'll be so mad."

"Why would I be mad?" he asked, throwing his arms up in the air. She backed away farther, so he started following her around the room. "Mabel Pines, you'd better start talking, or I'll..." he trailed off, realizing his physical arsenal was lacking, "I'll give you the sternest look." He followed up his threat immediately, acquiring an expression that would make even the crankiest librarian nod with respect.

Mabel giggled at him, but her internal turmoil quickly smashed the laugh. As afraid as she was of the suited thing, she was somehow more fearful still of the reaction Dipper would have if he found out the bit of information she'd kept tucked away until this moment. "No, Dip. You can't. I can't even explain why you can't, but you can't, so don't. Okay?" The glint in his eyes shifted from serious to pleading. Mabel felt her heart crack a little bit more. "You're making this hard! Just let me go!"

"And you're making it hard for me to not make it hard!" he countered, pausing to make sure they both understood what he'd just said. "Mabel, let me help you!"

In their slow-speed dance around the attic, Mabel had surreptitiously lead him to the open closet door. One last bout of silence to make him crack failed, and with a heavy sigh she stretched out her left hand. "Fine. You win."

"That's better," he nodded, taking it. She squeezed tightly and yanked, forcing him over to her. "What the—" She drove her right hand into his shoulder and shoved him into the closet, slamming and locking the door behind him. "Mabel! What the balls?!"

"I gotta fly solo on this, Dip. Just chill. I won't be long." She darted over to her bed and changed sweaters, slipping on the red number with the rainbow shooting star. Her brother banged on the door behind her. "This is probably the worst idea I've ever had," she admitted to herself. "And that's saying something."

"Mabel! Let me out!"

She glanced long at the door, rubbing at the base of her skull. "No, Dip. If he does show up, I...I can't let you see him."

Thirty minutes later saw Mabel staring up at the giant dollar sign balloon that hovered over Gleeful's Auto Sales. Gideon's father was busy, as usual, working over a group of customers near a sedan that looked ready to decompose into its components at any moment. Quietly, she crept past all the people and toward the gate in the wooden fence in the back that lead to the house. Once she was through and on the front porch, she took a hilariously deep breath and prepared to knock.

The sign stopped her. "Pardon this garden?" She looked back at the shrubbery and blinked. "What a dumb sign." Rubbing her neck, she finally knocked at the door and waited. To her left, a face appeared briefly in the window. Shortly afterward, the door opened.

"My dear Mabel," Gideon greeted her, motioning the girl inside. "What a lovely surprise." He blinked at her rather disheveled state. "You're looking...frizzy, today."

Mabel found herself in no mood for even basic pleasantries from the self-proclaimed psychic. Folding her arms, she peered down at him. "I can't believe I'm gonna say this," she began, "but I..." She paused to gag, dropping her arms and putting one hand over her mouth. "I need your help."

An awful smile appeared on his face as he closed the door. "Is that right?" he said, walking past her to sit on the couch. "I cannot wait to hear this story."

His haughty tone exhausted what little was left of Mabel's patience. She darted over and grabbed him by the lapels of his suit and started shaking. "I've spent the last forty-eight hours being haunted by a tall guy in a suit, and so help me, if you don't drop the 'oh ha ha isn't this just hilarious' attitude I will find a bridge somewhere that needs a troll!"

Dumbfounded, Gideon couldn't even fight back until Mabel had finished speaking, at which point he grabbed her wrists. "If you were anyone else, I'd have you thr-" He stopped snarling as Mabel cocked a fist and aimed it right at his face. "No! Not my priceless baby cheeks!" He let go and covered his eyes. "What do you expect me to be able to do about your problem?"

"I wanna look at your book," she said lowly. "You know which one I'm talkin' about."

"That was supposed to be between us," he countered, sliding off the couch and adjusting his suit jacket.

"It still is. I haven't told anyone else." Mabel cursed silently and rubbed at her neck again. "This thing is gonna drive me nuts. I don't...I don't know where else to go for help."

Gideon rubbed his chin, then shrugged and nodded off toward the stairs. "Very well. You could have asked more nicely."

Slumping, she followed him, but stiffened up at his complaint. "I'm out of nice," she shot back. "Besides, you tried to kill my brother."

"He deserved it," Gideon mumbled, coughing when Mabel glared at him. "Nothing. I didn't say anything. No need to punch me."

They entered his dark room. Mabel stood at the foot of his bed and watched him retrieve the tome. While she had some idea that it was special, she was surprised to see it was almost exactly the same as the one her brother had, save the better physical condition. "So there is a series," she whispered, blinking at the cover.

"Tall guy in suit." Gideon confirmed to himself, shuffling through the pages. Mabel went to stand beside him, but he shooed her. "Ah, ah. My secret book. You wait over there, please."

Mabel grumbled furiously, but did as she was told. It felt like ages before he was done flipping through the thing; when he closed it and set in on his desk, she perked up. "Well?"

He shrugged and frowned; something about the expression was more genuine than she expected. "No such thing in there, I'm afraid."

Her lower lip began to tremble as she turned away. "Wh-what am I..." Abruptly, she whirled on her heel and glared. "Are you just saying that so you can enjoy my suffering?"

Gideon emitted an insulted grunt. "My dear, I have been accused of many, many things, but – and think of me what you may – I don't enjoy your suffering. Your suffering, mind you. Your family is another matter entirely." With an exaggerated pop of his lapels, he shuffled past and out of his room. "I do have some principles."

"That's almost nice, in a very you way," Mabel replied, still rubbing at her neck as she followed him out. "Still doesn't solve my tall guy problem."

"Nobody understands everything in this town. Not the Northwests, not your admittedly annoying great uncle, not even me." Having ushered her all the way down and back into the living room, he pointed at the front door and cleared his throat authoritatively. "Until we meet again."

Not used to being told to get out so politely, it took a moment for Mabel to catch his drift. Once she did, she let out an annoyed huff and departed. Gideon shut the door firmly behind her and stalked back up to his room. He sat down in front of his makeup mirror to check his suit, mumbling incoherently about women and their eccentricities. After some minutes of primping, he reached into the top drawer and pulled out a shining black sphere.

As he held it in his hand, he noticed it was standing behind him in the mirror.

Mabel reached the bus stop ten minutes later, only to find Dipper already on the bench and waiting with a deeply unhappy look on his face. He got up and ran over once she came within sight.

"H-how did you get out?" she asked, wilting under his unhappy glare.

"President's Key," he replied, showing it to her in the inner pocket of his vest. "Wendy said you took the bus, so I figured I'd wait for you here and then ask you what the heck are you doing? Where have you been?" He would have tacked on more questions, but her body language stopped him.

She sat down on the bench, head in her hands, and tried to stifle the tears. "I went to Gideon's house."

Dipper threw his arms into the air, exclaiming "Why?!" so loud it attracted the attention of people across the street.

She slumped over even more, until it seemed she would topple forward onto the sidewalk. "'Cause he has a book too. I w-wanted to see if it was in there."

"He has a..." Dipper peeked in his vest again, where 3 was securely tucked away. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Mabel raised up, her heart crashing to her feet when she saw the look on her brother's face. "He never really said what it was, just that it was a special book. I didn't know it was like yours until just now, I swear," she explained, her lips trembling.

He opened his mouth again to yell, but her demeanor silenced him. Mabel was a wreck, pale as a sheet with messy hair and terrified eyes. She was shaking, and even as she stared back she was scratching the base of her skull. Taking a deep breath, he sat down on the bench beside her. "All right. Okay. No more yelling." She kept scratching as he watched. "What's wrong with your neck?"

"Everything's leaking out the back of my head," she mumbled, eyes darting around. Her whole body was trembling with the strain of being prepared to see it again, hovering, watching.

Dipper had never heard her voice bear so much stress. While he didn't know what she meant by those words, he knew that the time for demanding answers was long gone. As he struggled with the awkward silence, an idea popped up. "It never shows up when I'm with you, right?" She nodded weakly, her eyes beginning to light up as she realized where he was going with his words. "Then we'll just do what we always do."

"Be inseparable and adorable?" she asked, sniffling, but smiling.

"Of course. We are twins, after all," he replied, hopping off the bench and stretching. Mabel rose and stood with him, but the look on her face still contained an ocean of worry. Seeing her this way shook him deeply. He resorted to his favorite fallback in times of crisis – planning. "First, we're going to go home. Then, we're going to relax so you can get some sleep. Then, in the morning, I'm gonna figure out what is happening and, if at all possible, punch it in the face." Mabel gave him a skeptical glance at the last statement, causing him to laugh nervously. "Maybe you should punch it."

"Deal," she replied, rubbing her back. "Ungh. Floors are bad at being mattresses." She tried her best to shed her worry, and found the task much easier with Dipper at her side. "Here comes one now." She pointed at the approaching bus, then started to giggle. "I hope they kicked McGucket off. I'm really not in much of a mood for his raccoon make-out stories."

They boarded the bus and found it thankfully empty. Mabel chose a seat near the door, and then both of them settled in for the brief trip back into the woods.

"You know, I've been wondering. Why does a bus even go so far out of town?" Dipper looked over at his sister just in time to see her rubbing at the back of her neck again. Frowning, he recalled her earlier cryptic comment. "What did you mean earlier about the...leaking?"

She squeaked at being caught and dropped her arm. "Never mind. It's not important."

"Mabel, come on. Tell me." She wouldn't, so he put on the most worried look he could manage. "Please? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease..."

"It's just itchy," she finally said, refusing to make eye contact with him. He laid off again, figuring it'd be best if he tried to pry further when they were at home. The rest of the trip passed in uncomfortable silence. When they left the bus and started walking, he remained close at her left side. "I'm sorry for going to our mortal enemy for help," she blurted out, still unable to look at Dipper. "I just don't know what to do any more."

He smiled and gave her a one-armed hug. "Don't even worry. We'll figure it out once you get settled down."

"Wow. Who taught you to cook, Dip?"

The boy's face was blackened with the smoke that spewed from the charred remains of his turkey sandwich. He attempted to wave the cloud away. "I just tried to melt the cheese in the microwave. That thing's older than me, it's totally not my fault."

He couldn't see her, but he could almost feel her looking at him with deep amusement. "You didn't answer my question."

"Dad," he admitted, snickering to himself. His fanning cleared the smoke, and he regained sight of Mabel just in time to see her grinning toothily – and rubbing the back of her neck yet again. "Uh, Mabel..."

"Wh-what?" she asked, becoming instantly defensive at the expression he gained. "Why are you looking at me like that?" It changed into something sadder and more concerned; it caused an upwelling of unhappiness as she contemplated why it was so familiar. The memory was a like punch to the gut. "I hate that look. That's the look you gave me that time mom got sick while we were in school!"

He cast his eyes aside at first, then turned fully away. "Mabel, you've been muttering and rubbing your neck for three hours. It's..."

"What?" she demanded, walking around to make him face her. "It's what?" Once again, she knew where he was going with his words, but this was a precipice she wouldn't jump off of without confirmation. "Tell me, boy."

"I'm starting to think you're hallucinating," he said, moving over to sit at the little round wooden table. He received a look so vile it made his spine tingle. "Whoa! I'm not saying there isn't a reason for it!"

Nerves already frayed, Mabel would have none of his logic. "I just had this talk with Wendy, I'm not having it with you. Don't you..." She choked up, hiding her eyes with a sweater sleeve, "Don't any of you believe me?"

Her tone was heartbreaking, but the logic in Dipper urged him to press on with his line of thinking. "It's never touched you, right?"

She blinked, glancing to the side as she recalled her encounters. "Er, well, no."

He nodded; to Mabel, it seemed studious, as if he were a doctor diagnosing her. "And it disappears at random whenever you see it, doesn't it?"

"Y-yeah," she acknowledged, crossing her arms and staring at the floor.

"Maybe it's not real," he concluded, standing up and coming over to her. "It hasn't tried to hurt you. Fight it the next time you see it."

That was all well and good, but the emotional girl was now heading down a totally different path of fear. "You're going to send me away," she muttered anxiously. "To a...to an asylum or something." She tensed up when Dipper latched on in a hug. "Don't lie with your embraces! You are!"

"First, I'm twelve, I kind of don't have that authority," he said, muffled by her brown locks. "Second, I don't think you're crazy."

Desperate, she clung to him, if only to have a solid object with which to steady herself. "I don't like this, Dipper. I don't, I don't, I don't..."

Mabel was shaking so powerfully that he couldn't help but tremble along with her. "You sound exhausted. You need some sleep." Before she could even voice the question, he answered it. "I'll be around. Don't worry."

"F-f-fine," she sighed, allowing him to guide her up the stairs. Once they reached the attic, she shed her shoes and peeled off her sweater, then dropped to her knees and looked under her bed. Under it she went, coming out with her knitting kit. A few terrified glances confirmed it had not come again, so she exhaled loudly. "Good. We're cool," she mumbled, rubbing at her itchy neck.

"What are you gonna knit?" Dipper asked, already on his bed with a book in hand.

She got comfortable on her own mattress, plucked a blue ball of yarn from the basket, and started formulating a sweater in her mind. "Take a guess."

He couldn't help but shake his head. "You're gonna end up going home with more sweaters than you brought here."

"And that's awesome." Her hands were trembling; it was hard to get a rhythm once she had the yarn set in the needles. A few false starts later, she finally got going. The clacking noise managed to help her empty her mind, although the itch refused to go.

Dipper set aside his book to watch her. "Mabel, you're like a machine."

"You're good at dorky stuff. I'm good at sweaters and romance." She already had a sleeve produced, and paused to let loose a yawn. "Tired. This one's gonna have to wa—" Back she fell onto her pillow, unconscious before she was fully horizontal. Dipper shook his head and went to reading, but before long he too fell asleep.

Something woke her up some hours later, but she had no idea exactly what. A bitter chill enveloped her as she rose, looking around the dimly lit room. Outside in the yard, she could faintly hear Stan talking to his latest group of suckers. A look at the sky through the window indicated it was after sunset, although a wispy red glow was still hanging on to the starry night. Her neck itched still; she had to move the unfinished sweater to reach up and scratch it. Across the way, Dipper snored. She looked over.

It was standing by his bed, staring at her. With a layer of red over the terrible black, it looked more like a demon than ever. She tried to scream, but as with every other time her voice failed her. All she could do was tremble in bed and stare back. And yet, after a moment something spurred her. It was next to Dipper. If he woke up, he'd see it. It would haunt him too. She thought of his words and took a deep breath, realizing they offered what could be her only way out. She had to fight it.

"I'm not afraid of you," she murmured, sliding painfully off the bed and standing. The lie burned her lips as she let it pass, but she put on a brave face and moved closer. The nearer Mabel got, however, the worse the itch became, until it was a shrieking burn that blotted out the feeling in her limbs. "What do you want?"

It raised a featureless hand and pointed right at her.

"No," she denied it firmly. She fell to the floor and grimaced. Her extremities felt as if they were on fire. Her brain could barely get them to move. Determined to put herself between the eldritch beast and Dipper, she crawled past, using the edge of his bed to haul herself upright again. "Get out."

It stayed instead, leering over her from eight feet above.

"Y-you're not real!" Mabel's heart pounded in her chest, rattling her ribcage and causing her to feel faint. Even her exclamation was reduced to a hoarse whisper. It felt like her body was detaching from the neck down. "Just a story..." As her speech slurred, she could no longer deny the truth. Weakly, she latched on to Dipper's arm and tried to shake him awake. "Dipper, help," she whispered, tears streaming from her eyes. She couldn't look away from its non-face, even though the sight caused her terrible fear. "Dipper, please. Dipper. My brain is crying." Those last four words were not really her own; they were her mind's attempt to label the sensations it felt. Mabel kept on shaking her brother, but the motion was so pathetic he barely moved. "Dipper. Dipper."

It drew closer to them, floating over the floorboards like a ghost.

Mabel's eyes began to cross. Consumed with terror, she looked up and started to sob. "What do you want?"

It pointed down at her again. Its index finger nearly touched the tip of her nose.

"What if I say no?" she asked, still trying to be brave. It pointed at Dipper, who was still snoozing away despite her best efforts. This was the breaking point. A course of action became immediately clear, even if it crushed her with sadness. "O-okay. You can have me, but give me time to write a note first."

It hovered backward toward the door, and along with it went the loss of control that crippled Mabel's body. Gasping for air, she stumbled to her nightstand and pulled out a notepad and pen. She was unable to produce the adorable, girly scribbles she normally wrote with, and ended up laying a single line of text on the paper instead. "Okay. Do your worst, faceless jerk."

It motioned for her to follow, waving its arm in grotesque circles as the joints it should have had seemed not to exist. It went right through the closed door. Mabel slipped on her shoes and started to pursue, but paused to take a long look at her sleeping brother.

"One day, you'll understand. I hope."

Dipper wouldn't wake for another two hours. Like Mabel, he couldn't quite place what made him stir. A glance across the room revealed nothing amiss in the darkness, so he took his sweet time stretching and dealing with the groggy feeling. Once fully alert, he hopped out of bed. "Hey, you asleep?" he asked gently. No reply came, so he shrugged and started toward the door. That's when he saw the paper on the floor, a white rectangle against the dark wood, and blinked. "Huh?" He bent down and grabbed it, then walked back over and used his reading light to see. His heart leaped into his throat, even before he fully read the words. The handwriting was hardly legible – he'd watched enough crime dramas on TV to know that Mabel had written this under extreme stress. "Dipper, I'm sorry, but he says it's time to go. I love you." He dropped the note and flew out of the room, tearing through the house on a search for his sister. Everywhere he looked yielded nothing; finally he burst out of the house and ended up in the yard, trembling with panic. "M-Mabel?" he asked, looking up at the new moon.

Across town, Gideon Gleeful sat in his bedroom at the wooden desk, clutching a black orb in his chubby right hand. Peering into it, he could see a frightened Mabel from a perspective several feet off the ground, walking toward him but never growing any closer. The edges of the image were fuzzy and gray, but on occasion a tree would pass by and be visible.

"That's it, my dear. Keep following him. Oh my, this little doohickey is amazing." On the desk in front of him was the open 2, turned to a page with a diagram of a brain stem along with some hard-to-read writing and other diagrams. "A jewel that can make people see what I want and manipulate their central nervous system? My, my. What a useful little thing you are." He looked down at it in his palm and smiled. "And you'll make a fine new bolo tie." He changed his focus back to the image itself and sighed. "Forgive me, Mabel. The carrot failed, so I was forced into using the whip. I'll apologize once I get to the factory. I am terribly sorry about frightening you." He steered the faceless figure around a patch of brambles. "My old amulet was a trinket compared to this." He began to giggle almost uncontrollably. "I can just imagine it now. 'Oh no, my house is haunted!' Then here comes little ol' me to the rescue. Gideon Gleeful: Ghost Eradicator. Hee hee hee hee!"

He continued steering the apparition, frowning lightly whenever Mabel began to cry. "Oh, darling. Don't be sad. You will live a life of luxury for the rest of your days. And thanks to you bein' a proof of concept, why, this town will be mine. Ours. It'll be ours. That little Northwest wench will never trouble you again, my dear. We will rule this town, side by side."

The factory was coming into view. He watched Mabel's reaction, but it became clear fast that she was still too afraid to piece together what was going on. "Good. Keep walking. You're almost there. Soon, you'll be my queen, whether you like it or not. Forever. And if your brother or Stanford tries to split us apart again, well...I'll scare them right out of their skins. Heh. Literally."