Dipper stared.
The forest was quiet - a rarity. Normally there was always some ambient sound, a chirping cricket or rebellious firefly out. Bees were supposed to be buzzing around, making him resist the urge to flinch hard. A gentle breeze was supposed to pass through the trees. Gnomes should've been roaming around, or maybe the shadier denizens of the forest selling bags of butterflies or something.
But here? It was silent.
The kind of absolute silence that leaves you hearing fainting ringing, as if your brain itself was also searching for anything to hear. The silence that pressed on you from every square inch you had available. The particular breed to draw attention to the little things. Dipper noted the apparent rot on the trees around him; it was subtle, more of twinge on each piece of bark than anything else, however together he couldn't not notice the overall slightly deadened appearance. Not only that, but the grass in the clearing as well seemed a tad more brown than the other thousands of blades he'd seen. Dipper felt a small shiver descend his frame, and when he had to rebalance himself from it, his sneaker crunched more than it should've. He looked down and, at the roots of the grass, they were indeed a light khaki.
He shook his head, re-adjusting wendy's hat, feeling sweat bead up on his forehead. He felt his hand begin to drift toward his arm. He forced it to his side, slowly beginning the glare at the thing before him.
It was stone, smooth, too, carved as if by a master sculptor. The details were exquisitely preserved, each curve of its fingers and even the brim of its stovepipe hat was perfect; the brick pattern lower down on it, too, managed to stand out, which a tiny part of Dipper was impressed with. He snorted at himself.
It was a statue of Bill Cipher.
It was so perfect because it hadn't been sculpted; it had been made when he exited his physical form and entered Stan's mind. It wasn't natural. But it was there all the same.
The bowtie was just as stuffy and out of place as Dipper remembered from his nightmares, the arms and legs just as noodly.
He shivered again.
Dipper could feel himself tensing as he studied it, despite his better judgement. He paced around it until he was facing the eye, the same one that had turned into a clock when he'd made a deal with him. With the identical slit for a pupil that he'd seen in his eyes when Bill had possessed him. Even simply looking at it, he could hear the cadence of his strange, unsettling cackly laugh.
He stepped back from it, feeling more uncomfortable by the second, wanting to leave but with curiosity simultaneously pleading with him to stay. He had the journal Grunkle Ford had given for christmas with him. He never thought he'd ever regret having that journal with him; when he'd gotten it, the blue, reinforced book with silver edges had seemed perfect, down to the silver pinetree on the front with a "1" on it. He had been proud of it. Now he wanted to throw it away and start scribbling in it at the same time.
He should leave. He knew he should've done that. But something in him kept him rooted to the spot, looking at the eye as if it held answers. Answers as to the guilt he felt for getting tricked, for failing to stop him in the initial stages of It, for every mistake he'd made in handling Bill.
He jumped when he heard approaching crunching. Dipper immediately turned to the sound, carefully picking up a fallen tree branch near him. It wasn't big, he'd grant that, but some sort of weapon was better than none. And he was not taking out his journal.
He narrowed his eyes, attempting to slow the advance of anxiety that was assaulting his decision, when Grunkle Ford stepped into the clearing. Dipper blinked, dropping his stick, and awkwardly met his eyes. Make that the second time he'd threatened his great uncle with violence.
Ford's eyes immediately went to the statue of Bill, taking it in for a moment, before flicking back to Dipper.
"Uh…" his nephew began awkwardly, "I-I wasn't trying anything! I was just… um…" he trailed off, directing his eyes to the ground. Ford approached him carefully, crouching down and placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Dipper," he said, picking up the youth's chin, "It's okay to be curious. I can understand why - why you'd want to find it." Dipper looked up, a bit hesitant, to be met with empathetic eyes. Ford sighed.
"I found it before you," he said, which made Dipper look at him. Ford gave him a small, sad smile. "Ever since I saw him turn to stone I was curious as to where he was. When I got back with Stanley from the Arctic circle, one of the first things I did was find it." Ford took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I told myself I should at least see it. To make sure that he really was gone. In reality, Dipper, I was drawn by nostalgia." Dipper blinked, but found he was unable to give Ford the perturbed look he should've gotten. Because he understood.
He had wanted to find it out of some form of nostalgia; a strange, inexplicable need to see it. He wanted answers for his guilt, yes, but there was no real way seeing the statue would solve the nights where he'd wake up, breathing shallow and fast, with cold sweat slowly dripping down his face. It was a whole summer ago but It wouldn't leave him. Wendy had offered her best distractions for the both of them, as did Mabel and her friends occasionally if the stars aligned, but it hadn't solved the underlying tension for Dipper. He wanted closure on what happened; wanted to move on. But how could he?
He looked down again.
"I can presume you came for the same reasons?" Ford asked. For several moments, his nephew didn't respond, struggling to find his voice. Eventually, he mustered up just enough to give a quiet, "Mhm."
Ford squeezed his shoulder, and picked up his chin again. He looked Dipper in the eye.
"That's okay," he told him, voice softer, "He was a demon; he tricked us both and moving on from that… I'm not sure I've entirely managed it yet. And that was thirty years ago." he chuckled, a tad forced, and frowned at Dipper's trembling lip. "But if I can't, I want you to."
Dipper looked at him, eyes tired and miserable beyond his years. Ford squeezed his shoulder again.
"Mason, you have enormous potential. Bill tried to take advantage of it. In the end? He turned to others to enact his plan. You've already made a name for yourself across the dimensions for what you've done. Bill isn't worth the guilt. We won in the end. I know you won't mess up like that again."
Dipper processed that for a moment. Then he slowly smiled. It was sad, granted, but looked marginally less miserable. Which, if Ford remembered correctly, was a good sign when it came to teenagers. Eventually, Dipper spoke.
"Y-you mean it?" he asked quietly. He knew he must've sounded like a little kid when he said that, but he couldn't bring himself to care about it overmuch. He was more concerned with the smile Ford was giving him, and how his chest was feeling lighter.
"Of course I do, kid." his grunkle said, "Now how about we head back to the shack? There's an experiment in the lab I'd like to show you." Dipper's eyes lit up a bit.
"What kind of experiment?" Ford chuckled.
"That alien metal from the crash site is what I used to make a good number of my inventions. Over my investigations in the Arctic Circle Stanley and I found a piece of the actual ore it comes from-"
"From when you killed that Loch Ness Munster?" Dipper cut in, unable to curb the intrigued excitement from his voice. Ford nodded.
"Yes. At least something good came from that fight - other than getting to weaponize cheese, of course. I wanted to attempt smelting a piece of the ore today. I'm presuming you'd like to assist me in that?" Dipper nodded. Ford grinned.
"Then what're we waiting for? It can't turn out worse than that stanchen." the man shivered. Dipper's smiled widened as he laughed.
When he went to bed several hours later and with a piece of cooled alien metal in his pocket and a few minor burns, his dreams were Bill-free.
I've found my coping mechanism and nothing will stop me.
I wrote this when I was feeling a bit down. It might not be the best, but hopefully it made you smile all the same. If nothing else for my pitch perfect puns right? Loch Ness Munster... I'm a bit more proud of that one than I should be, I'll admit, but I feel it fits the show's tone well enough. So it's okay! ... Probably.
I'm currently procrastinating on homework, so I'll end this here (And also because I don't have much else to say but shh), but I hope you enjoyed it. Any sort of response will be greatly appreciated, but I'd love to hear what you think of it. Also, in case you were wondering, this is in the same universe as my last one-shot (And if you haven't read it, feel free to check it out... this is good advertisement, right?).'Till next time. - Raging Celiac