Mason stumbled through the cave in the center of the forest. He didn't know what he was running from, only that it was dark and unnamed and terrible—and the unknowingness of it made it all that much worse. The stone walls around him were illuminated by barely enough light to see by, and Mason knew that one misstep would result in the unknown thing catching him.
Mason craned his neck back, trying to catch a glimpse of what he was running from— a mistake. His feet hit an uneven patch of ground, and his body pitched forward.
Instead of hitting the stone floor, though, Mason kept falling, his body turning on end. A scream ripped from his throat as he saw the ground far, far below. There was no way he could survive a fall like that— he had to do something, but there was nothing he could do. Mason squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the moment of impact.
It never came. Mason heard a faint snap and felt wind gusting into him from above. Still breathing hard, he opened one eye, then the other.
His feet hung in midair, half a foot above the ground. Something must have caught him! Mason turned to look at his savior and was greeted by a large pair of colorful wings, beating to keep him aloft.
A second glance revealed that the red, yellow, and blue wings were attached to his back.
Mason was frozen as the wings—his wings—lowered him to the ground. As his feet touched down, a voice echoed in his ears.
"Dreaming again, Pine Tree?" The voice was unlike anything he had ever heard; it was like it had multiple layers, and the sound sent a chill running down Mason's spine.
With his brain still reeling from the sight of the wings, it took a minute for the meaning of the words to sink in. "I'm— dreaming?" That made sense— and he was obviously still dreaming, what with the wings. And now that he was aware of it... he was having a lucid dream! Mason had read about them, but never actually had one.
"As bright as ever, I see." The voice came again, and Mason spun in a circle as he tried to pinpoint the source of it. As he did, Mason took in his surroundings, which he hadn't noticed before: he stood in a huge room with a vaulted ceiling even higher than the cave's. The walls and floor were made up of large stone bricks, many carved with intricate designs. "Although, truthfully, it wasn't so much a dream as it was a nightmare. Good thing it's over."
Mason shuddered at the memory of running through the darkness. Definitely a nightmare. "Yeah. Wh— who are you?" As he spoke, he completed the circle, and his eyes landed on a long carpet leading to a throne.
Above the throne, the Illuminati floated. It glowed with a steady yellow light, and Mason took a hesitant step towards it.
This dream just kept getting weirder. Mason had seen the Eye of Providence on the back of dollar bills, but never with the top hat and bow tie worn by this creature. At Mason's words, the eye in the center of the yellow triangle widened. "You really don't remember me, Pine Tree?"
Mason frowned. "Why should I? And why are you calling me a pine tree?" Something about this creeped him out, and he wasn't entirely sure if his nightmare was over.
"It's on your shirt." The triangle pointed, and Mason looked down at the small blue tree on his pocket.
"Oh." Mason wished he had his Journal with him. Maybe Ford had researched the Illuminati in the past and there would be something to help him.
"Where are my manners? I haven't introduced myself." The triangle floated higher above the throne. "I am Lord Cipher, the All-Seeing Eye, the Liberator of Dimensions, and the most powerful being in the multiverse." With each word he spoke, he grew bigger, and the many-layered voice pitched deeper. Mason took a step back, then another, willing himself to wake up.
With his next words, though, the triangle shrunk. "But my friends call me Bill."
Mason hesitated. "Am I— are we friends?"
Lord Cipher, or Bill, or whoever he was, floated back down. "That's a good question. I think you'll find you'd rather be my friend than my enemy."
Mason wasn't sure how to reply to that, so he stayed silent. Bill crossed his arms and lounged back in midair. "But speaking of friends, have you made any in Gravity Falls?"
"Uh— yeah. Wendy and Soos are cool, and Mabel seems nice."
Bill stiffened. "Mabel, you say?"
Mason hesitated. Everything seemed to be spiralling into more and more weirdness, and he wanted nothing more than to wake up. "She's staying in the Emporium with us— she ran away from home, I guess, and Stan and Ford didn't want her being alone in the forest."
Bill's eye narrowed, and his body rotated away from Mason. "Yes, the forest is no place to be alone. And Mabel is staying with you?"
Mason didn't know why Bill seemed so interested in Mabel, but needless to say, it was creepy. "Y- yeah. Um— can I wake up now?"
Bill was muttering something to himself, but at Mason's words he turned halfway around. "You can wake up whenever you want."
"Oh, uh, great." That wasn't much help. Mason hesitated, then asked a question that had been bothering him ever since the beginning of his conversation with Bill. "This— this is just a dream, right? You're not— this isn't real?" There was no way it could be, but— something about this dream seemed different from others.
Bill turned fully around, his eye wide. The sound of laughter filled the room, and it took Mason a minute to associate the sound with Bill— the triangle's lack of a mouth made it that much creepier. "Real? Don't worry, Pine Tree.
"I'm only as real as the wings on your back."
***
Mason practically flew upright in bed, breathing hard as the dream still swirled in his mind. Here, though, with the comfort of his blankets wrapped around him and the light of the crescent moon streaming through the triangular window, Mason realized it had been just that: a dream. A very strange and creepy dream, true, but a dream nonetheless.
Still... Mason stole a quick glance over his shoulder. No wings— but of course there weren't. The reveal of Wendy being half dragon must have worked its way into his subconscious, giving him wings in his dream, and all the other weird stuff was just the product of a tired mind.
Satisfied with that explanation, Mason lay back down and rotated onto his side to go back to sleep, but he had barely closed his eyes when the rustling of sheets on the other side of the room sent them flying open again.
He propped himself up on his elbow, body tensed— he was still anxious with the memory of the dream, and in the darkness it took his eyes a minute to adjust. All he could make out was a dark lumpy shape on the other side of the room, a shape that rolled over to reveal—
Mason blew out a long breath. Mabel. Brown hair flopped over one eye, but Mason could see that the other one was squeezed tightly shut. She twitched, then rolled to face the other side of the air mattress. Under the sheets, her legs thrashed.
It looked like Mason wasn't the only one in the Emporium to be having a bad dream. Part of him felt like he should go over there and wake her up, but another part of him thought maybe he should just let her be.
"And Mabel is staying with you?" Mason froze as the memory of the dream came back to him. Why had Bill seemed so interested in Mabel? She couldn't be connected to Bill somehow... could she?
Mason rubbed his forehead, absently scratching at his birthmark. No, that was impossible. Mabel was just a runaway, and Bill was just a bad dream. They weren't connected.
Mabel's tossing and turning came to a stop as her bad dream seemed to end, and in the silence Mason also relaxed back onto his pillow, closed his eyes, and within minutes had entered a deep and dreamless sleep.
***
For the first time in over a week, Mabel woke up in a bed.
Well, technically it was an air mattress, and it had enfolded her into a half-deflated taco, but she was in no position to be picky. And just having something besides her wings between her and the ground made this a better start to the day than she'd had for a while.
Add to that the fact that she'd found Dipper—not to mention the warm blankets swaddling her and the delicious smell of bacon wafting up to her nose— and Mabel couldn't help but smile. In the past week, she hadn't eaten much more than the assorted candy in her purse and some berries she'd found, but it seemed like that was about to change.
All in all, things were looking up.
But as she sat up and her body sagged further into the center of the mattress, her mind also began sagging with doubts. Dipper still didn't remember her, and last night nightmares had filled her sleep— of Dipper rejecting her, of the Avem dimension burning.
And through it all, the eye of Lord Cipher watching her with his unblinking gaze.
"Nope! No negativity today." Mabel shook her head. "I'm closer than I've been in a week! Those are just bad dreams— they're not real. But you know what is real? Bacon." She inhaled the delicious scent, then felt a pang of guilt as she thought of her flying pet pig at home, Waddles— but really, she was too hungry to care.
It was time to face the day. Instead of standing up immediately, Mabel rolled herself out of the taco-ed air mattress and plopped onto the floor. She could feel the warmth of the wood on her feathers, even through the t-shirt she was borrowing as pajamas; Mabel had rolled into the triangle of sunlight beaming through the window. She stared up at a desk strewn with books and loose sheets of paper—the night before, Dipper had hastily tried to clean up when he learned he'd be getting a roommate, but as the desk and his rumpled and unmade bed showed, his organization left something to be desired.
Not that Mabel was in any position to judge his cleanliness— her messes just tended to consist of yarn and glitter as opposed to Dipper's books and codes. Still, there was something comforting and familiar about the clutter, and she smiled at the desk as she stood up.
Her pink shooting star sweater lay rumpled on the ground; the night before, Stan had loaned her an oversized t-shirt to wear as pajamas, the front emblazoned with the logo of some Earth band. It was big enough to fit over her wings and had worked well for sleeping— for the most part. Mabel was used to sleeping with her wings either outstretched or wrapped around her, and having to keep them cramped and hidden under a shirt took some getting used to.
Additionally, the thinner material showed the outline of her wings a little more than Mabel would have liked. That was fine when she was in bed and no one could see her, but for breakfast she probably needed to change.
As she pulled the pink sweater over her head, Mabel made a mental note to get to work on some other sweaters without wing slits. She had had enough of wearing the same sweater for days at a time.
Finally dressed, Mabel inhaled another whiff of bacon— making her stomach complain loudly. She patted it. "I hear you, I hear you. Let's go get some breakfast."
Mabel thumped down the stairs, but hesitated before entering the kitchen. Dipper and Ford sat across from each other, Ford scribbling something in a book while Dipper scarfed down bacon. Stan stood over the stove, flipping pancakes with his back towards Mabel.
Even though they each seemed to be doing their own thing, Mabel was struck by the sense of togetherness. Of family. And even if it was only based on false memories, it seemed very real to Mabel.
And it made her feel very, very alone.
The moment was broken by Dipper looking over at her. "Morning," he said around a mouthful of bacon. Mabel forced a smile to her face as she sat down in an empty chair.
"Morning! That bacon smells really good."
"Here, you can have so—" Dipper frowned down at the empty plate, then guiltily glanced at the half-eaten piece of bacon in his hand. "Oh man, sorry."
Stan turned from the stove, an apron tied around his waist, and clanked a plate piled high with pancakes onto the table. "Here ya' go, kid. Mason, next time try to remember that we have a guest."
Mabel hid a flinch at the sound of her brother's real name: only two people had ever called Dipper that, and they had been gone for years now. Hearing it again brought up a swell of emotions she couldn't deal with.
Dipper grinned sheepishly at her. "Sorry again."
This time, even with thoughts of those gone swirling in her mind, the smile came a little easier to Mabel's face. "No worries! Just don't eat all the pancakes, too."
"Right." Dipper blinked as Mabel poured syrup onto her pancakes. "Um, only as long as you don't eat all the syrup. You're drowning your pancakes!"
Mabel looked down at her pancakes, surrounded by a small river of maple-y goodness. "Aw, c'mon. This isn't that much! Remember when—" She coughed to hide her slip. "One time I had a bunch of syrup on my plate, and then my— friend accidently knocked it over. We tried to clean it up, but the floor was still sticky for a week afterwards." In actuality, Dipper had been the one to spill the syrup, but there was no flicker of recognition on his face as she told the story. Mabel sighed inwardly. It had been worth a shot.
Stan snorted. "Well, just as long as you don't go spilling syrup onto my floor. You two'll be the ones cleaning it up— me and Ford are too old to be crawling around on the floor like that."
Across the table, Dipper met Mabel's eye and grinned. Ford, head still buried in whatever he was writing, didn't even glance up as he murmured, "Ford and I."
Stan crossed his arms. "Okay, smart guy. And what's the rule about writing at the table?"
Mabel shovelled another bite of pancake into her mouth— she never would have guessed from looking at him, but Stan was a surprisingly good cook— as Ford looked up. "That it's okay if the fate of the forest and the world is at stake."
"Wrong answer." Stan poked Ford with his spatula. "Breakfast time is family time, Poindexter."
Ford swatted at the spatula, but sighed and put the notebook away. Mabel got the feeling that this was a discussion they'd had before. "Fine."
"Have you figured anything out, Grunkle Ford?" Dipper asked, a bit of pancake flying from his mouth as he spoke.
Mabel, reaching for a third pancake, almost missed Ford's glance in her direction. "No, not yet."
"Do you need any help down in the lab?" Dipper's eyes were wide, his voice eager. "I could— I dunno, write—"
"These are some excellent pancakes, Stan!" Ford said, somewhat louder than necessary as he gave Dipper a pointed look. Dipper blinked, but fell silent.
Mabel frowned. What were they talking about? And why had Ford cut Dipper off like that? She had the uncomfortable feeling it had to do with her— something they didn't want her to hear.
But they had only known her for half a day. It made sense that they didn't totally trust her yet, but part of Mabel's mind jumped back to her suspicion the previous day— could Stan and Ford still remember the portal?
No. Lilith wouldn't have left them with those memories; they'd be too much of a threat to Bill. Chances were, whatever Ford and Dipper were talking about had nothing to do with her— but that thought didn't do much for the painful ache in Mabel's chest. Once, Dipper would've trusted Mabel with his life, but now... that faith had disappeared along with his memories.
Suddenly, the half a pancake in front of her didn't look quite so appetizing.
"So, Mabel, today I'll have Soos train you on how things run here in the Emporium," Stan said, snapping Mabel out of her thoughts. "We'll start you off on restocking the shelves, and then Wendy can show you how to work the cash register."
Mabel blinked. She had totally forgotten about working in the Emporium; she was hoping to spend the day trying to get Dipper's memories back. It looked like that would have to wait, however.
Stan glanced over at the clock hanging over the sink, and his eyes widened. "And we open in five minutes, so get your butts in gear! Mason, you get Mabel out there and help Soos and Wendy show her the ropes. I gotta go get changed." Stan rushed out of the kitchen, and Mabel could hear his feet pounding up the stairs.
"C'mon!" Dipper hopped out of his chair and hurried out of the kitchen, and Mabel quickly followed him into the living room and through the Employee's Only door.
Inside, Wendy grinned at them from her spot behind the cash register. "'Sup. What took you guys so long?"
"H-hey Wendy," Dipper said, a reddish tinge spreading across his face. Mabel hid a snicker. "Breakfast went a little long."
"Hey, doods!" Soos stood by one of the shelves, unpacking a box of snow globes with a miniature Emporium inside. He looked at Mabel. "You ready for your first day on the job?"
Mabel looked at the smiling faces around her, and she was somewhat surprised to feel a matching grin spread on her own. "Yep!"
"You'd better be." Stan skidded into the room, tightening his belt and adjusting his Mr. Mystery suit. "Because we're opening any second now."
Wendy sat up a little straighter behind the register, and Soos hastily carried the now-empty box of snow globes out of the gift shop. Dipper's gaze was trained on a clock above the door, and Mabel also watched the second hand tick closer. Three... two... one...
The Mystery Twins Magic Emporium was open for business.