"GRUNKLE FOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRDDD!" Mabel and Dipper shrieked as they ran back to the Mystery Shack. Both uncles hurried out at the sound of their niece and nephew in distress.

"What is it!? What's going on!?" Ford yelled as he pulled on his electric stun gloves.

"Do I have to punch something and/or someone?" Stan asked as he flexed his fingers into some brass knuckles.

"There- the thing- in the woods-" Dipper tried to get out while trying to catch his breath.

"theresathinginthewoodsthatlookslikethatriftthingbutitsjustfloatingthereanditlookslikethere'ssomethingtryingtogetoutofit!" Mabel babbled, sucking another breath for more. Dipper covered her mouth and pointed to the woods.

"Follow us!" he said, and they made their way back to the clearing where the twins had been exploring. An amorphous blob of ever-shifting nightscape hovered a few feet off the ground in the center.

"Sweet Mother of Astrophysics! It's an inter-dimensional rift!" Ford cried.

"Like one of those things that almost destroyed the world before!? " Stan asked.

"But it's just floating there, and it seems to be at least five times the size of the other one," Dipper said, slowly edging forward. Ford grabbed the boy.

"Don't get near it, Dipper! We don't know what it will do. " they all took a step back when Mabel screamed.

"It has a hand! " she shrieked, pointing. A slender hand penetrated what seemed like the jelly surface of the rift, reaching out as if to grab something before it was covered by the constantly moving surface. It seemed as the surface of the rift moved, another form was fighting to escape.

"Who is it?" The twins asked in unison. Before anyone else could say anything, a face plunged itself out of the bottom, arms scrabbling at the ground. It turned and Ford had a confused look on his face before the edges if the rift sucked it back in.

"Anabelle? " he asked himself, then took off towards the rift. "Kids, don't touch the rift, but try to grab the person! " as the pines family moved in, Mabel grabbed the hand that grabbed out.

"I got her! " she cried, pulling as hard as possible. The others ran to her rescue when she started to skid towards the portal. Together they pulled as hard as possible. Slowly, the person, a slender female emerged. She was almost parallel with the ground as she was finally free of the rift. It rippled and expanded as if angry that its prisoner was gone, then shrank into oblivion. The woman flopped down onto the ground hard and unmoving. Ford rushed to her side, but before he could do anything, the girl leaped up and started flinging punches and screaming incoherently. She drop-kicked Ford, then flung some punches at Soos, who had gotten too close, Mabel tried to move out of the way, but the woman tossed her through the air into Stan, who caught her just in time. The girl backed off, breathing heavily and watching them, her eyes darting back and forth wildly. Ford snuck up on her from behind, palming something in his left hand. As soon as she took another step back, he struck. Tackling her and putting her in a headlock, as she flailed, he stabbed something to her thigh. The girl screamed again, then went limp. Ford picked her up bridal style.

"Are you okay, Mabel?" He asked.

"I've been better!" she called from on top of Stan.

"You and me both, kid," Stan added. Ford looked at the girl in his arms sadly.

"Grunkle Ford, who is that?" Dipper asked, walking slowly towards them.

"The dimension she was from called her 37738A, but I called her Annabelle." He straightened, and carried her to the house. Everyone else followed.

"Where did you meet her? Is she from another dimension? Has she always been that crazy? What is she doing here? Why is she-" Dipper put his hand over Mabel's mouth, stopping her flood of questions. Ford went to his old workroom and set Annabelle down on the couch there. While she was unconscious, she looked peaceful, almost like an angel. Despite the ragged tunic she was wearing and black smudges on her cheek and forehead, her skin was pale. Her shoulder length hair had a shaggy, unkempt look, but was a beautiful light gold. Her face had a weird, almost ageless quality.

"Wow, she looks like a princess!" Mabel sighed. Ford chuckled but then sobered.

"She is definitely not a princess."

"I'll say," Stan said. "Did you not remember that she threw you bodily in the air, sweetie?"

"Oh, that was in the past, Grunkle stan. Besides, she looks so helpless now." Mabel said, covering the girl with a blanket.

"How did you take her down, anyway, Poindexter?" Stan asked.

"I always carry a hypodermic, just in case. You never know when someone is going to attack you out of the blue."

"Wow, Grunkle Ford, that's really…creepy…" Dipper said. "So what's her story? I mean, you obviously know her, and she couldn't have gotten through hat rift without some prior knowledge, and why is she here?"

"enough, Dipper." Ford said, "I will tell you as what I know, but it isn't much." He sighed. "I was in dimension 52, and I was in a lot of trouble wth the overlords…"

Ford was running, sirens in his ears and a host of people on his heels. He hadn't known how hard it would be to blend into his dimension. It seemed normal enough, not like the octopus piglet dimension, but he hadn't figured on everyone being a master of the psychic and telepathic arts. It was this older lady that had tripped, and he reached out to catch her, not knowing that touching was strictly prohibited. As soon as he had realized it, everyone around him had, and it passed on to the supreme high council of psychics. As he skidded down a stairwell, a door to the side opened, and an arm snaked out to grab him and pull him into the darkness of the mysterious room. As soon as he oriented himself, he turned to his savior. It was supposedly a gender neutral person, although the shaved head and plain tunic didn't disguise the delicate bone structure and softer form of a female. She signaled for silence, motioning him to follow. He did, looking around. They seemed to bee in maintenance tunnels, full of piping and tech used for the city above. He followed the girl through the maze of tunnels the rights and lefts soon confusing him. He was convinced a couple of times they had gone in circles when they came to a dead end. It was obvious that she lived there, a pallet in one corner and food wrappers scattered around a crate full of odds and ends. She signaled for him to sit down, walking back the way they came. He started to follow, but she waved at him frantically, pointing at the pallet.

"No, I can't stay here." He spoke, making her stared at him, moving slowly backward. She pointed at the pallet again, bringing her hands up to her cheek. "I know you want me to sleep, but I can't-" she turned and ran, leaving him alone and somewhat lost. He observed where he was, and decided maybe he should stay put. It was a nightmare out there, and at least it was quiet here. The days finally caught up with him and he felt the exhaustion settle on his bones. He laid down, taking off his coat and setting it beside him. It wouldn't hurt to take a little rest...

He woke with a start, gun drawn, to see the doe-eyed girl that had led him here. She was wearing his jacket, looking more child-like and waif-ish huddled in the folds of his coat. He sighed, putting his gun away. "Sorry, the force of habit," Sh said nothing, slowly creeping out of the jacket and setting it in front of him. "Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Stanford Pines." He held out his hand. Her eyes widened and she shook her head. "You can't talk, can you?" She shook her head again.

"I can talk, " she said haltingly, her voice rough with disuse. "And I know who you are, Stanford Pines, of Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. Son of Filbrik Pines, Brother to Stanly and Sherman Pines." An acidic feeling crept up his throat at all the info that she had spouted about his previous life.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here? " he asked. The girl fidgeted.

"I don't know. I was born here, I guess, but I'm not sure when, or from who." she cleared her throat, rubbing her neck. Stanford studied the girl. At firs, he thought she was adolescent from her size, but he realized she was older than he assumed. Her eyes, large and framed with light brown lashes that practically touched her gold eyebrows, were an intermittent color of blue-green. Her skin was so pale it seemed like it had never seen the sun. Her gray tunic was so long it covered everything, yet he could see the wear and dirt that coincided with drudgery.

"What is your name?" He asked.

"I don't have a name."

"What do your friends call you?"

"What are friends?" She stared at him so intently that he became nervous.

"Um, never mind. What do other people call you?" She paused, contemplating his words.

"I know what my masters call me." Ford almost choked.

"A-and that is...?"

"377384" she rolled up her sleeve to show the tattoo across her forearm. It was stretched and slightly faded, evident that she got it at a young age.

"That's not a very good name. "

"What would you call me then?" The question shocked him. He had never named anyone before. He didn't even think he could. But the expectant look on his saviour's face and the light hitting the tattoo, making it look like a cattle brand, evoked memories of his favorite game.

"Annabelle." He looked her in the eyes. "I would call you Annabelle."