The Pines worked in the Museum for the rest of the morning, much to Ford's displeasure. Melody even considered having him lead a tour at one point, but then decided his grizzled, unkempt appearance would scare the tourists away. She instead set him to restocking supplies in the gift shop, watched over by Robbie — who showed up half an hour late for his shift — to make sure the old man didn't sneak off.

Mabel and Dipper cleaned the museum displays between tours, then went to clean in the gift shop, washing windows and wiping down decorations and dusting merchandise that hadn't been touched by tourists in a while. While they worked in the gift shop, Ford provided a soundtrack. He groaned whenever he shifted positions, his joints cracking, and gave disbelieving comments over some of the merchandise he was restocking. Apparently Melody was more in charge of this business than Mabel had supposed.

"Hey Mr. Pines, you're making the customers uncomfortable," Robbie said, after a group of them checked out and left the Museum.

"That's ridiculous. Just because I've been away for a bit doesn't mean I can't show my face. This is my business."

Robbie shrugged. "It doesn't exactly seem that way, considering you don't even know what's in that merch you're restocking."

Ford slammed down the bigfoot bobblehead he was holding in a huff. "I know what merchandise I have! Melody has just been buying new supplies without consulting me."

Robbie raised his eyebrows and put his hands up in surrender.

It sounded to Mabel like Melody buying new supplies was evidence of her growing responsibility for the Museum, but she was glad Robbie didn't do anything to antagonize Ford further. The old man's mutterings, from what Mabel could pick out, indicated he was doing as Melody suggested and planning for the operation to retrieve the first Journal. But he still seemed to resent being forced to do manual labor. Well, now you know what it's been like for us kids, Ford.

Though she couldn't complain. She had been passed out on the couch for the past week.

Mabel tried to stay focused on her work, tried to be in the moment as she cleaned. But cleaning was so mechanical, and her mind was so flighty, that it was a wonder she lasted as long as she did. Before long, her mind started to drift. To Bill, to Pacifica, to the Cipher Wheel and what it all meant. First Pacifica, and the things she'd screamed at Mabel last night. Mabel's brain just kept replaying the same moment over and over again: Pacifica crossing the room and pulling out the knife. That was the second time Mabel had been at knifepoint this winter, and she didn't ever want it to happen again. She wondered if, had Pacifica been able to kill her, she would've used a knife to do it.

Her brain caught hold of that thought and chased it around for a while. Why hadn't Pacifica been able to kill her? She wanted to, she did nothing to hide that fact. But Bill had stopped her, Bill had wanted Mabel alive. Bill, even after possessing Mabel.

An image of Babel's laughing face flashed across the back of Mabel's eyes.

She shook her head, trying to banish it. Why, though? Why had Bill specifically intervened with Pacifica's plan? What was he planning?

A shiver ran down Mabel's spine as it hit her.

The Cipher Wheel. She was on the Cipher Wheel. That had to be it. But. . . wouldn't Bill want the members of the Cipher Wheel dead? Weren't they the last defense between him and freedom?

"Mabel? Maaaaabel. Earth to Mabel."

Dipper snapped his fingers in front of her face, and Mabel jumped. The jerk was violent enough that she bumped right into Dipper, almost falling on top of him.

He caught her and helped her get her balance. "Woah, Mabes, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. We're just about to have lunch, and you were in one of your trances."

His term for when she thought so hard that she lost all connection with the real world. She nodded. "R-right. Sorry. Coming."

She followed Dipper into the kitchen, where Melody had gotten out bread and sandwich toppings. Mabel moved to make herself a sandwich, trying to look as invisible as possible.

"I've finished restocking," Ford said, throwing deli meat and cheese haphazardly onto his bread. "Are you done with me, Melody?"

"A few hours of menial work, how challenging," Melody replied.

"It was. My old bones can't take manual labor anymore."

Melody fixed Ford with a disbelieving stare. "Oh, sure, and once we get all three Journals back, you'll just moan about your aches and pains instead of fixing that portal, is that what you're saying?"

Ford stammered in outrage for a few moments before he was able to put together words. "No — that's — I don't — that's actually important, Melody."

Melody shrugged, spreading peanut butter on a sandwich for Dipper. "So is maintaining your sole source of income."

Mabel didn't know how the housekeeper stayed so nonchalant about all this. She knew she wouldn't want to have to deal with Ford in this mood. But Melody was so calm and collected in the face of his tempest that Mabel was once again struck with a feeling of respect towards this woman. This winter break would have been so much worse without her.

"Well, anyway," Melody continued. "I'm willing to let you and the twins off for the rest of the day. Though you should be running tours."

"I used to," Ford said defensively. "But you—"

He stopped himself. Melody raised an eyebrow at him, and Mabel figured she knew what he was going to say: But you're better at it.

Ford waved a dismissive hand. "I have bigger responsibilities these days. Like saving Stanley's life."

"All right," said Melody, handing Dipper his sandwich. "Attend to those responsibilities. Just don't make any important decisions without me, okay? Some of us are still working on making it possible to save his life in the first place."

"Yes, and I couldn't survive without you," Ford said, rolling his eyes.

Mabel couldn't help but be reminded of Wendy Valentino.

"Well, sarcastic or not, that's probably the best 'thanks' I'm gonna get," Melody said.

After a few minutes of silence, Ford finished his sandwich and stood up. "Meet me in the living room in five minutes," he instructed the twins. Then he stalked out of the kitchen.

Mabel waited until he'd been gone for a good thirty seconds before she turned to Melody. "How do you do it?" she asked.

Melody blinked. "Do what?"

"Deal with Ford."

There was a beat of silence, and then Melody laughed. "Oh. He does act like a petulant teenager sometimes, doesn't he? It is my job, though. I look after him."

"But — but how do you — I mean, doesn't he make you feel like you want to disappear?"

Melody paused, thinking the question over. "He has that effect, yes."

"But you don't let it get to you," Mabel said. "How?"

Melody shrugged. "I just try to emotionally step back and remind myself that I'm still a good person, no matter what anyone else thinks. That my worth isn't dependent on anyone's opinion."

Mabel just sat there as the words washed over her. That. . . she didn't know what to make of that.

"I'd love to talk to you kids more about this," Melody said, "but I'd better get back to running the Museum, and I'm sure Ford is impatiently waiting for you."

"I don't think it's been five minutes yet," Dipper pointed out.

"Oh, I know." Melody winked.

She went back to the Museum, leaving Mabel and Dipper to finish their lunch. Once the twins were done, they headed out to the living room, where Ford was jotting things down on a notepad. "Oh good, I was wondering what was taking you two so long."

Mabel and Dipper shared a look. Melody was right, then. As usual.

They sat together on the couch — Ford was standing, using his forearm to support the notebook. He faced them, reminding Mabel vaguely of a schoolteacher. "I tried to follow Melody's advice and plan the expedition to go get the Journal, but it didn't work. She was wrong, then. As usual. Anyway, the problem is that I don't have enough information. Mabel, you said the Journal was in the Order library?"

She nodded. "I. . . I tried to memorize the route between Pacifica's room and the library, but it's a maze down there, Grunkle Ford."

"It'll have to do," he said. "You're the only one of us who's been to the library, and a spotty memory is better than nothing."

Mabel's blood ran cold. Did. . . did that mean he wanted her to go back?

Dipper jumped to his feet. "Wait, you're not even going to ask her if she's okay with going back down there? She just got kidnapped by Pacifica! And now you want her to go back to the same place she just escaped from?"

Ford frowned. "Well, yes. She's our biggest hope for success at this point. I understand that it might be hard, but—"

"Might be hard?" Mabel cut in. She knew she should just let Dipper defend her; her heart was thumping with anxiety even as she spoke. But she couldn't stop herself. The awful memories of last night were suddenly crashing over her, all at once, heedless of her attempt to hold them back all morning. "I had nightmares last night, Grunkle Ford, that's how bad it was! That's how much I should not ever go back there."

"I'm sorry, but—"

But Mabel wasn't done. "I've had nightmares ever since — ever since that day at the theater! And you haven't even noticed because you're so obsessed with Stanley that you don't even care about your family!"

Ford's eyes widened. Then narrowed. "Maybe you've forgotten," he said, his voice deathly quiet, "but Stanley is my family."

"I meant your family that's here. The family you can interact with! Dipper! Me! Melody — because with all the stuff she does for you, she deserves to be counted too. You're so obsessed with getting Stanley back that you're forgetting the rest of us!"

"Considering I forgot about Stanley for thirty years," Ford intoned, "you can handle being forgotten about for a couple days."

"Whether or not we can handle it doesn't make it okay," Dipper said.

"When we started hunting for the Journals, you said you didn't want us getting hurt," Mabel said. "Well, forgetting about us is hurting us! Making me go back to that — that — to there is hurting us!"

"Are you insinuating that what you went through last night is my fault?" Ford asked.

"It wasn't your fault," Dipper said, "but you definitely didn't help. When Gideon came to tell Melody and me what happened, we had to leave right away to rescue Mabel. We didn't have time to go tear you away from whatever you were doing that was so important. If you'd been in the real world, you could have come, and maybe even gotten the first Journal last night! Then we wouldn't even have to make these plans!"

"No use dwelling on what could've been," Ford said.

"You also said you didn't want to take unnecessary risks," Mabel pointed out.

"This is a necessary risk!"

"It didn't have to be if you had cared enough about your own family to even notice when we're in trouble!"

Mabel and Ford glared at each other in silence for a good thirty seconds. Don't be the first one to look away, Mabel, she commanded herself. The steel in his blue-grey eyes was terrifying, but for once, she was too angry to care. She couldn't drop her gaze. She wouldn't.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around to kiss your boo-boos," Ford said, not dropping his gaze either, "but have you ever thought that, just maybe, there are more important things than your own problems?"

Dipper gasped. Or maybe it was Mabel.

Tears welled up in Mabel's eyes, and she had to look away from Ford to blink them away. They still came, though. She knew it. She'd suspected, but now she knew: Ford really didn't care about her. Why it took this long for that to sink in, she didn't know. Hadn't he just earlier demanded why she hadn't gotten his first Journal? Even after she'd gone through so much to get the second, to even find the first?

"Mabel. . . ," Dipper began.

She stood up. "Good luck getting your Journal back," she said to Ford, "because you're not going to have my help."

She turned and left the living room before Ford could respond.