Mabel Pines curled up comfortably on the couch in the Mystery Museum, her home for the winter. Her legs were tucked underneath her and her sketchbook was braced on her arm, her hand moving across the page in short, dark strokes. The current scene she was drawing depicted her twin brother, Dipper, dancing at the party they'd held last week. His eyes were closed and his mouth smiling as he weaved between the silhouettes of other party guests.
Mabel loved drawing her brother; he was so expressive that there was always something new to capture.
Beneath her sketchbook on her lap sat a large maroon book, its cover gilded with a golden six-fingered hand. She liked the feeling of having Journal 3 out in the open, where all could see it, instead of hiding it. Ever since her great uncle Stanford had found out she had it and enlisted her help in finding the others, it felt more like a connection to him than something driving them apart.
The smell of frying bacon wafted from the kitchen, where Melody Ramirez, the housekeeper, made breakfast. Mabel shifted in her chair and let out a contented sigh. Yes, this morning was nice and peaceful.
"Mabel? Mabel, have you seen my Journal?"
Stanford Pines' voice boomed through the house without him raising it in pitch or even volume. In her first while here, Mabel mostly heard Ford speaking in normal tones or occasionally yelling at someone (usually her). Now, now that they were a team, now that he had hope for the future, he more often used a voice that wasn't loud but still carried to every corner of the room. Mabel liked it.
He turned the corner into the entry way and saw Mabel on the couch and the Journal in her lap. "I figured you would have it," he said. "Good morning."
Mabel smiled. "Good morning, Grunkle Ford. Do you need the Journal?"
"Not quite yet. Bring it to the table for breakfast, all right?"
"Okay."
The exchange was short and unimportant, but Mabel's heart felt light afterward. Before, nearly every conversation with Ford had been terse or otherwise carried an uncomfortable atmosphere that permeated the room. Now she felt none of that. Now she could smile at him, and he would. . . well, not quite smile back, but at least look like he didn't wish she'd stop talking.
A sudden pounding on the stairs shook both the walls of the Museum and Mabel's thoughts of Ford. Her twin brother Dipper, whose footsteps always preceded him, dashed down the stairs and into the room, his shoelaces flapping wildly around his neon green tennis shoes. "Morning!" he said cheerfully to Mabel and Ford. He stopped at the base of the stairs, then frowned, sniffing the air. "Is something burning?"
Mabel hadn't noticed anything — Dipper had the better sense of smell — but now that he mentioned it, there was a smoky scent that didn't fit with the bacon grease smell coming from the kitchen.
Ford reached up and patted at his cheek. "That's nothing."
At first Mabel thought she imagined it — she wouldn't have noticed it without Ford putting his hand up to stop it. But that couldn't have actually been smoke coming up from Ford's cheek, could it? "Grunkle Ford," she said, "was your face on fire?"
"It's faster than shaving," Ford said, sounding somewhat embarrassed.
"Woah," Dipper breathed. "Can I do that? I have facial hair too, you know."
"What, no you don't," Mabel said.
"Do so!" Dipper retorted. "I found some on my chin, just the other day!"
"I'm sure you're growing into a fine young man," Ford said, "but nobody but me is allowed to light their face on fire."
"Aww."
A head poked out from around the corner between the kitchen and the entry way. "What's this about being on fire?" Melody asked. "My food's not burning, no worries. In fact, it's all ready to go if you'll come in here."
Mabel closed her sketchbook and stood up, following Ford and Dipper into the kitchen. At the last moment, she remembered what Ford said about the Journal, and hurried back to get it. When they sat down at the table, she kept the Journal in her lap — she'd never forgive herself if she got bacon grease or butter on its cover.
"You all look nice and cheerful this morning," Melody said as she brought the food to the table. Mabel could tell she felt the release in tension too.
"I made a breakthrough," Ford replied. "About where to find the other Journals."
Mabel dropped her fork.
It clattered onto her plate in the otherwise silent room. Mabel leaned over the table, half-rising from her chair. "You did? What is it? Where are they?"
"Did you remember something?" Melody asked.
"Sort of," Ford said. "Mabel, may I see the Journal?"
Mabel slid it over to him and watched with wide eyes as he flipped through it. "Here," he said, laying it open on the table.
The page he had opened to showed a diagram of his bunker, the one he and the twins had stayed in after Pacifica had stolen the Museum. At the top of the page were four rectangles, all connected by lines, with the tree that hid the bunker on the far right. The rest of the page detailed two rooms: the one they had stayed in and a security room, which Ford had never showed them (and Mabel hadn't dared ask). The page afterwards had been torn out.
"You two have been to my bunker," Ford said. "But as you can see here, there are more rooms than the one you saw."
"You think the Journals are in one of those rooms?" Dipper asked, using a piece of bacon to point to the diagram at the top of the page. Ford moved the Journal out of the way to save it from the grease.
"It's a possibility," Ford said. "The problem is, I don't remember what's in the rooms after the security room. Whenever I think about it, I just feel this vague sense of danger." His fingers brushed over the torn edges of the missing pages, and he sighed in frustration. "I don't know where these pages have gone, but without them, my memory is incomplete."
"I'm sure we can handle it," Dipper said. "We've gone up against magical creatures and all that before."
"How would you get past the security room?" Ford asked. He pointed to the next visible page after the missing ones. It showed a diagram of hexagons with foreign symbols on them. "This page supposedly tells us the combination to get past the room, but I took an extra measure to conceal it and I can't remember what it is."
Mabel could hear the frustration lacing his voice. He'd obviously gone over all this himself before telling the twins about it. She couldn't even imagine the anger he must have felt towards his unreliable memory.
"Once we get down there," she said carefully, "do you think you'll remember? You said you remembered a lot after rereading the Journal."
Ford sighed. "Only what the Journal told me. And as you know, it's missing information."
She did know. She'd stared at the remnants of the missing pages and hungered for the knowledge of what was on them. It seemed Ford was now doing the same.
"I think Mabel's right," Dipper said. "I think you'll remember if we go to the bunker. And the Journals could be down there!"
"Your assistant built the bunker, right?" Mabel asked. "If he stole the Journals, maybe he hid them down there."
Ford looked reluctant. "I wouldn't have told you at all if I wasn't planning on letting you come," he said slowly, "but I am still worried. We'd essentially be going in blind. I don't want anyone getting hurt."
Mabel didn't want to get hurt either. But she did want to find the Journals. "We've gotta try."
"We'll be fine," Dipper said cheerfully. "You'll protect us."
Ford didn't seem reassured. There was silence for a moment.
"I don't like relying on my instincts without solid facts," Ford began, "but it's a skill I've had to learn. There's something dangerous down in that bunker, something I can't remember. If we go down there without the necessary preparation, we could get seriously hurt. I'm not going to ask you to come if you don't want to, but if I do bring you two along, I need to know that you'll follow my instructions and not do anything that could put you at risk."
Mabel felt her stomach turn over. The reality of what Ford was saying started to feel, well, real. If they went back to the bunker to look for the Journals, they'd be walking into what could be a death trap.
"Do we have any other leads?" she asked quietly. "Any other options on where to look?"
"No."
"Then we'll go look. And we'll prepare as best we can."
"Yeah!" Dipper said.
"And we'll do what you say," Mabel added.
Dipper's face fell a little.
Melody laughed, a pleasant sound that startled Mabel. She'd nearly forgotten Melody was there, quietly eating her breakfast on the opposite side of the table from Ford. "Don't worry, Dip, whatever instructions Ford gives won't take the adventure out of it all."
"Are you coming, Melody?" Mabel asked.
"Oh, I don't think so," she replied. "I don't think I've fully recovered from getting bludgeoned on the head by the Pleasure girl last week. You three go."
Ford smiled. "I almost considered just going alone, but I know I made a promise. And. . . I think I'd rather have you two with me."
Mabel found herself unable to breathe for a moment. He wanted her along. She wasn't just someone he had to bring. He wanted her to come.
"We'll head out tomorrow morning," Ford continued. "I'll need some help routing through my old gear to see what we need."
"Ooh! Will it be like an antique museum?"
As soon as the words left her mouth, Mabel realized what she was implying. She flushed red. "I-I mean—"
"It's fine," Ford said with a laugh. "It will be, in a way. Some of this stuff I haven't touched for decades."
"I'll help," said Dipper. "I bet we'll find a ton of cool stuff. I already found this black light pen under the couch the other day, look!" He pulled out a pen and clicked a button up at the top, shining a black light beam onto his neon shoes. They glowed an unearthly green.
A strange look came onto Ford's face.
"Grunkle Ford? You okay?" Mabel asked.
It took a second for him to answer. "I. . ." He shook his head. "Yes, I'm fine."
"If you two don't start eating, your breakfast will get cold," Melody said.
Mabel and Ford exchanged looks. Neither of them had even filled their plates.
"Food first," Ford said. "Then preparations."
"Then tomorrow we're off to find adventure!" Dipper shouted in a dramatic voice.
Ford laughed again. Mabel liked it when he laughed.
"Tomorrow we're off on adventure," he agreed.
Mabel could hardly wait.
Art by DisneyFaller