Wendy didn't plan for this. She most certainly had not planned for this at all.

Granted, the word "Planning" was about as close to a Corduroy as "Even-tempered", but still. She had no intention of coming to, at twenty-one, be tapping her foot and nervously licking her lips at the doorstep of an eighteen year-old. That wasn't even counting the fact that it was about 2 AM and her morning coffee was a good six to seven hours away.

This kid was gonna be the death of her. She was calling it now.

Wendy could pinpoint when it started. About four years roundabout, when she was seventeen. Back then her biggest grievances were A Farewell to Arms and All Quiet on the Western Front. The latter of the two was pretty darn decent, a damn good heart-wrencher. The former made her give her teacher the stink eye for a month. What she really remembered about those two, though, was that by extremely lucky coincidence Dipper had been delving into those books of his own volition right as they were being shoved down her throat.

He'd been so flippin' willing to help. For him, the fact that the soldier's romantic escape from the war with his beautiful nurse girlfriend resulted in her death along with the baby's was obvious symbolism for Hemingway's disillusionment. For Wendy, being told that was a break in the poorly-written clouds. It was due to him that her essays on those books got top marks, and she felt more than a bit fake and guilty. Afterall, it had been his insights the teacher really graded, not hers. She didn't say that out loud, though.

Her shoving of uncomfortable thoughts to the back of her mind was aided by the fact that while Gravity Falls' weirdness had seemingly receded after Bill's attempted apocalypse, within a year it had come back in force. Gnomes pilfered pies from Greasy's; those seriously creepy flying eyeballs made ever-closer excursions into the town, and some even turned some towners to stone; the manotaurs began to supremely conspicuously look for mates (They were about three times the size of the town's bushes, but they still tried). Wendy spent a lot of her free time that year helping Ford get the petrified residents back to their working oddness, and found an unlikely ally in Pacifica Northwest, of all people. Eventually, while they (Wendy) dragged a pizza guy holding a response to a penpal called "Sir Mabelton", Pacifica asked her, "So um, I heard Dipper had a crush on you a few years ago."

Wendy narrowed her eyes darkly, resisting a strong desire to roll them, and grunted, wiping sweat from her brow. "Yeah, he did. For most of the summer, actually. It made me nervous."

She wasn't entirely sure why she said that to someone three years younger than her, but she didn't get much time to mull that over. "So… he doesn't anymore?"

Wendy grunted again, before slumping her aching shoulders and taking in a breath that was more labored than she would've liked. She wasn't out of shape, but man, the pizza guy was way heavier in granite form. "I mean… I hope he doesn't anymore. I'm not into him at all."

"Yeah," Pacifica said, and Wendy had a sneaking suspicion there was more she wasn't saying. Wendy took in another breath and began pulling on the rope again, feeling very much relieved when the Shack came into view. She and Pacifica mostly walked in silence, until Wendy set the statue at the edge of the porch steps. Her eyes flicked over to Pacifica who, after a moment, rushed to pick up the statue's feet.

"You up for this?" Wendy asked her. "I can get Soos or Stan to get it y'know. He's really heavy."

At that, Pacifica's pristine blue eyes went sub-zero. With a stiff jaw, she said, "I think I can handle it."

Wendy chuckled exhaustedly, shooting her a small, tired grin. "Alright, dude. Let's get this thing to the basement."

They did get it into the basement, as it turned out. Pacifica's arms were shaking for about ninety percent of the time it took, but she did it. When they finally set down in Ford's portal room, now full of de-petrification equipment that included everything from a cauldron to several plant pots that let out unintelligible groaning noises, against a few others, the aging scientist nodded to them, swiping away a cloud of blue-green dust from his face. He kept his goggles on, despite the numerous flecks of orange and green liquid on them.

"Thank you, girls," he stretched his back, and it cricked loudly. "Ah. Anyways, that's about it for today. I can handle the rest of these."

"No problem, dude." Wendy answered, three quarters turned away from him when she realized Pacifica had been quick to grab an apron about four or five sizes to big for her and goggles that gave her face an odd, bug-like quality. She joined Ford shortly thereafter, and the sight was just great. Wendy found herself giggling at the sight, something she was far too tired to really think deeply about, her grin widening as she left. Out of the corner of her eye, she swore Pacifica was following her frame as she left, but she shrugged that off.

She felt a vibration in her pocket, and dove her hand into the denim to retrieve its source. It was a text from Dipper: a brunette with her hair done up in pigtails had an arm around his shoulders, squeezing him against her tightly. Wendy remembered seeing Mabel do that occasionally, but this very clearly wasn't Mabel. Dipper was smiling too, more than a tad sheepish, but with his eyes twinkling just like the girl's. The caption under it read: "First date went great!"

Wendy shot him a "Nice!" and flipped her phone shut, making her way to the living room, draping herself in an awkward-looking but comfortable position across Stan's chair lazily. As her eyes closed for a well-deserved power nap, Wendy was pretty confident that, yeah, Dipper had moved on.

Oh if it had only stopped there, Wendy thought. A firefly blinked out at the very edges of her periphery, almost appearing confused. Like it was saying, Man, what the heck are you doing here?

Wendy shook her head, but more memories began to surface.

She was eighteen. High School was over, and it was time to start thinking about college. Not very fun.

But she was eighteen and it was summer. Summer meant the Pines twins: sugar and spice and everything dorky. It meant expeditions into the woods and caves; Dipper overanalyzing everything and dumb stuff with her friends. It meant movies nights filled with terrible puns, half-stale popcorn, and the Gravity Falls Public Access Bargain-bin Movie Marathon. That stuff was what she'd been expecting.

Granted, she had taken note of the fact that, yes, puberty was a thing happening to the twins. She'd noticed it first in Mabel, who grew about a foot when Dipper and Mabel were fourteen, much to the former's annoyance. Then, over the following year he closed the gap, only missing a centimeter. Mabel grew into an intensely pretty girl, which irked Wendy slightly because geez she was lucking out, but she could deal with that easy enough. What was the more difficult pill to swallow was that Dipper was having the exact same luck as his sister, which she wasn't prepared for in the slightest.

When she meet she let him into her place for their first movie night that year, two parts of her jumped up: one took in the fact that Dipper's skinniness mean that his cheekbones were surprisingly defined, and the small but definitely noticeable broadening in his shoulders. He'd always been cute in a boyish way, she guessed, yet thinking like this was… weird. They were three years apart, for one, and that wasn't counting the fact that even if she started thinking like this, Dipper probably wasn't at all by this point. Part of her said that taking an interest in him now would kinda be negating all the work he'd probably put into moving on from her - and what sorta friend would she be if she pulled a stunt like that?

(What she swept under the rug was that she was afraid that he'd say no).

Dipper coughed into his fist."Uh… Wendy? Are you okay? You look… weird."

Wendy blinked, and Dipper's eyes widened.

"I-I mean, you always look fine! I - it's probably nothing and I'm just overthinking stuff like usual…" Dipper looked down, an action that gave Wendy an intense urge to smack him upside the head. This kid was way too dorkily nice. He had to have been breaking some law. If by some miracle he wasn't, Wendy wanted one in place so she'd never have to see that wounded-puppy pout ever again.

Wendy gave an intensely bleh shrug. "It's nothin' man. Just thinking about… stuff. College and junk."

"Oh! Did you get like, rejected or something? I could help you with your application if you want. We don't always have to watch movies…" He trailed off, and Wendy shook her head vehemently, pondering exactly why someone who didn't want to get into her shirt was so willing to help her out with her college application of all things.

"It's good, man," she said, shrugging again. "I'll grab the popcorn."

Dipper nodded, poorly hiding suspicion.

That pretty succinctly summed up her problems for that summer. Dipper Pines was a smart kid. Almost nothing slipped past him in some areas, and much to her chagrin, noticing things off with his friends was one of those areas. She kept receiving sidelong, concerned glances from him all summer when he thought she wasn't looking.

(But she always noticed them. Part of her was always looking).

It all came to a head - for then, at least - on the most life-threatening day of her summer, as fate was wont to do. The day started out fairly normal, but when she heard the rap-rap-rap of knocks on the door, and saw from her clock that it was five AM, she knew this day wasn't going to be fun.

She answered the door in her plaid PJs, because her family took the term "Heavy-sleeper" to a whole nother level. Except in her case, of course. The world wouldn't be right if every moth that flew into her window didn't wake her up.

What met her when she opened the door was a Dipper Pines without his (Hers) signature fur cap. She was just able to discern his birthmark through his mass of hair, but his expression stopped any quip she was thinking of.

The ever-present bags under his eyes were worse, like he hadn't gotten much sleep, but also had that caffeine-fueled sharpness that spoke volumes in capitalized and bolded red pen. He was attempting a self-conscious, slightly sheepish look, but the smile didn't show itself past the curve of his lips. He'd swapped out his normal navy blue vest, orange shirt, and gray shorts for an oceanic green-blue tee and black jeans whose stains, rips or tears had been sewn together by rainbow-colored thread. He was wearing a large backpack over his shoulder, whilst holding another at his side.

Wendy blearily stared at him for a second before she said with a slight slur, "Dip? What're ya doing?"

Dipper shifted, gaze flitting everywhere but her. "Well um, you see… err… Ford wanted me to investigate this thing with him, but he sprained his ankle and you know how old people's bones are.. He told me he trusted me enough on my own, but that he still wanted someone with me for uh - protection. I-I have everything in my backpack. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?"

God, he sounded so hopeful. Wendy rubbed her eyes and yawned loudly. Dipper winced. "No problem man. Just let me get dressed and junk. Wait down in the kitchen. Make sure to not walk into the ceiling."

Dipper should've laughed at that.

Wendy got up in her usual clothes, albeit ones that had attained less holes. She wore a white tee and tied one of her usual plaid shirts around her waist. She found only one hole in her jeans, which was good enough for her. She could probably find a pair in better condition, but she was wary of Dipper passing out if she spent too long changing. As she left, she also grabbed a hair tie and did her monstrous mane up in a high ponytail. She also plucked her pocket knife from a drawer in her dresser, and made sure it was in working order before slipping it into her pocket. She'd put in there once she started hanging out with Dipper, so he wouldn't get too freaked out by her house - or at the very least so her room didn't scare him more than it seemed to scare most guys.

(She shunted aside the fact that putting it there had become customary.)

She found Dipper with his head in his journal, and asked, "Breakfast?"

"Can't eat," Dipper answered distractedly, flipping through the pages a fever pitch. When he felt Wendy's disapproving gaze, he hesitated a moment before dragging his eyes up to meet hers. "It's just… where Ford wants me to go, I know about it a-and, I'm not sure if… if you'll want to come if you really knew what it was." Wendy crossed her arms.

"Dude: I followed you when you were twelve into an underground bunker with a frickin' shapeshifter in it. I went through an apocalypse. I'm sure whatever this is won't faze me."

Dipper shifted again, then sighed. He set his head down on the table tiredly, ran a hand down his face, stretching it out. "I guess."

Wendy opened the fridge and grabbed a bagel. She wrapped it in a paper towel and, after seeing that Dipper still had his head on the table, shut the fridge door. She gripped the inside of Dipper's armpit, feeling a bit of shoulder blade, and yanked him up. He spluttered something intelligible that she pointedly ignored as she pulled him to her door.

Dipper weaseled out of her grip at the threshold, taking in a slow, deep breath. "Alright. Let's - let's do this. You ready for a hike?"

Wendy ripped a good third out of her bagel, ate it in a grand total of five seconds, and shot him a crooked grin. "You bet I am. You being sweaty is the best to watch."

Dipper blushed, responding in a quiet "Yeah,". By the time Wendy realized exactly what she'd said, she opened her mouth, but Dipper had marched ahead of her.

The hike was long. By the time Dipper stopped, they had a really nice view of the sun through the Falls' cliffs. They stood in a mound of grass smack dab in the center of a few foot depression, extending outward in a large radius. There was just enough room for both of them on it, and Dipper began to sweat as he spoke.

"So um… about what we're going into."

Wendy crossed her arms, taking a swig from one of the water bottles Dipper brought. She splashed some on her face and gave him a flat look. "Yep. Spill."

Dipper scratched the back of his neck like he did when he was nervous. He pointed to the cliffs. "Do those… well, do they remind you of anything?"

Wendy frowned at the cliffs. She'd always thought their shape was odd. For a good half a minute her frown stayed in place, before she blinked hard. She turned growing green orbs over to her friend, who had pulled a UFO keychain from the Shack from his jeans.

"No way…" she said in a hush. What she was thinking… it had to be crazy. Bonkers. Gravity Falls was weird, but…

"Yeah," Dipper said, swallowing. "Aliens. They're real."

Wendy gawked at him, and the words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them. "You're nuts."

Dipper's eyes hardened for a second, followed by a shake of his messy-haired head. He shrugged his backpack off his shoulders, zipped open the second largest pocket, and withdrew two suspiciously gun-shaped dark gray things with pieces of metal sticking out of their barrels. There was perhaps a few centimeters separating the two, give or take a few rapid successions of blinking, and they bent away from each other a vertical right angles. He put one in her hand, and re-shouldered his pack. He took the other one, which had duct tape wrapped around the barrel, and pulled back the top half of the device. Grooves along the sides that increased in size like a badly skewed pictograph until stopping about three-quarters of the way down the barrel lit up in a vibrant, shining blue.

"These," he told her slowly, "Are magnet guns. Back when Ford first came to Gravity Falls, he and McGucket used them when they were exploring this um, this place. They have a really powerful electromagnetic pull, so use them… carefully…" he trailed off. "Wendy?"

Wendy was still gawking at him, her jaw slack. "When did Ford tell you about this?" she asked slowly.

Dipper stiffened somewhat. "Three years ago. Back in our first summer here."

"When you were twelve."

"Um… yes?"

"You were twelve."

"So what if I was twelve?"

Wendy continued to stare at him for a bit before she schooled her face. "Nevermind. So Aliens are real?"

"Yeah; this flying saucer crashed here a few million years ago. It's what made the Gravity Falls valley, actually." he said the last part like it was one of those "Fun facts" in science class, unaware that on the inside Wendy wasn't truly wrapping her head around their situation. She decided to just go with the flow. She could tackle the world-changing ramifications of this later.

"Cool," she said, then her eyes fell to their "Magnet Guns". "So how do these work, anyways?"

"They work like any electromagnet, really. An electric charge runs along wires wrapped around a core." Dipper explained, but then said very seriously, "But these things are really strong, Wendy. Like super strong. They could rip the fillings out of a guy's mouth from a hundred feet."

Wendy eyed the magnet gun with respect. "Geez. That's awesome, though."

"I guess," Dipper murmured, then he proceeded to cough not at all smoothly. "Anyways. Ford just wanted some batteries from this place. Hopefully it won't be too eventful." Dipper's gazed warily at the mound. "Stand back."

Wendy put a few paces between her and Dipper, feeling a mixture of caution and giddiness. 'Cause this - this was genuinely mind-blowing. When Dipper pulled the trigger, a grassy section of the mound surged up less than a second later with a metal clang that almost him trip. He stayed on his feet, even if he looked more than a little startled. With another slow breath in, and began to head down the newly-revealed entrance.

Wendy followed him, pushing off her trepidation, and climbed down the ladder. The triangular manhole quickly gave way to a massive room, all made of metal overgrown with vines. Designs snaked along the walls like veins, empty shells that were simultaneously breathtaking and eerie. The sunlight streaming through from the entrance combined with the wholly-metal construction of the room resulted in reflections Wendy hadn't ever thought possible. When she reached the bottom of the ladder, she was starting to grin like a maniac. Dipper was surveying the room with a pensive expression.

"Ford took you down here before?"

He jumped when she spoke, and her wonder was dented. "Oh. Um, yeah. I was. It… didn't end well."

He strode to the end of the room in a brisk pace that every single other of his actions screamed was hiding something. Wendy followed him to a steep edge suspiciously, frowning again. Dipper sucked in a quavering breath. "Those pipes," he said, finger thrust out over the edge of the manufactured clifface. "We need to… ah. Y'know what? It'll probably be easier just to show you."

Dipper stepped back a good few paces from the edge. Wendy watched intently: he was sweating, and posture was tense. Something was bothering him, she could tell. Something very, very bad. Dipper shut his eyes, and Wendy made out his mutterings of "You can do this," and "It's not that hard."

When he opened them, he appeared no more prepared. Finally, he took a final, large gulp of air before breaking into a full-on sprint to the edge of the precipice. Wendy opened her mouth to say something, because they couldn't exactly see the bottom of the edge, but by the time she had formed the first syllable of his name the boy had jumped off the edge, magnet gun pointed toward one of the pipes showing jutting out from the blackness of the hole. It latched onto the pillar, and shortly thereafter, he angled his arm so he was sliding down the pipe like some absurdly sweaty fireman. Wendy was speechless for a good few seconds, before she heard a yelp and a thump followed by a moan.

The first thought that passed through her mind was a four-letter word that most certainly would've gotten her profuse flak from her dad. She didn't think overmuch as she got back to a distance where she could get a decent running start, and barreled toward the edge, turning on her magnet gun along the way. She copied her friend's movements to a T, and despite how that thump had sounded, the adrenaline made her feel alive. Her boots hit the ground smoothly, and she made a beeline for the bright white light that was the sole light amidst the darkness of the hole - and more importantly, where Dipper was.

His head snapped over to her frame so fast his neck cricked. In the sterile illumination provided by the flashlight, he struck her as unnervingly pale: he had a hand covering one of his eyes, while the one that was free had a distinctly scared quality to it. Wendy rushed over, grabbing his shoulder imperiously.

"Show me." she ordered. Everything Dipper had just done was stupid to the point of disbelief, so un-Dipperlike she wanted to give him a long-winded lecture about how jumping into holes you can't see the bottom of is dumb, you idiot. Dipper removed his hand, and thank God it wasn't too bad. His eye was bruised and there was a small cut on his lip, but that was it. She huffed. "You're lucky, dude."

Dipper nodded, and quietly responded, "I know."

There was a space where Wendy kept her hand where it was, broken when Dipper coughed. "Uhm. What we need isn't far from here," he said. "Just a few alien batteries."

Wendy let him wither under her frown for another dozen seconds before dusting herself off and helping him to his feet. Dipper reached inside his backpack and pulled out a flashlight, handing it to her. Upon seeing the hint of regret one her friend's face, she put on her most winning smile and said, "Lead the way, Mr. Action."

Dipper should've laughed at that.

Instead he nodded and lead her down the tunnels. The silence between them was charged - as if they were stuck in a dam about to burst. Something had to give. When they turned their fifth corner and passed a blinking pair of lights lining the wall just inches from the floor, she'd had enough.

"Dip," Wendy caught his wrist. Dipper peered up at her, skin chalky in the light. "What happened when Ford took you here?"

"Nothing!" he responded promptly, then he facepalmed. He didn't say anything for several seconds. Finally, slumping his shoulders, he hung his head.

"Just… I… I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, you are."

"You aren't my mom."

"Dude." Wendy threw up her hands, "You don't act like this unless we talk about Weirdmageddon. Spill."

"You can't tell me what to do!" Dipper glared at her, wrenching himself free of her grip. "I don't have to tell you anything!"

Wendy clenched her fists until her knuckles were white as the light from their flashlights. She squared her jaw, pushing down her urge to sock something. She took a breath. "Dude, I get it. Whatever the hell this is isn't fun. But it'll be easier once you've talked about it - then we can get Ford's doohickey or whatever and leave."

Dipper held her level gaze for a long moment. "No. Later."

"Dipper Pines, you start talking now, or I swear-"

Dipper's eyes went wide as what little color his face had drained away."W-wendy-"

"Don't interrupt me!" Wendy took a menacing step forward. "You're gonna talk now, because you need to, and-"

She was cut off when Dipper dove forward at an angle, sending them both just out of reach of a pair of black, banded blurs. They both lost hold of their flashlights, sending her world into a strobe-like chaos of light and darkness. Wendy's head banged painfully against the floor, and she shoved Dipper off of her. "Ugh!"

Dipper's eyes shot wide as dinner plates, and Wendy saw a clear, floating orb with tightly-woven wires and cables turn to her for a second before its tubes shot out toward Dipper with frightening speed. He cried out as they wrapped around his joints and pulled taut, dragging across the cold, unforgiving metal floor. He clawed and pawed at it, making cringe-worthy scratching sounds that amounted to a fat load of nothing. By the time Wendy had scrambled to her feet, the orb had pulled him inside it and shut.

"Dude! What the-"

"It's an alien prison droid!" Dipper told her frantically, "Shoot it!"

"I'm not shooting you!"

"WENDY!"

The orb turned around and sped down the corridor, and Wendy gave chase as best she could, only just able to keep it at the edge of her vision. She didn't bother counting the number of corners she turned, or the pipes she ducked under, or any of the vines that stuck to her head as she ran through them. The burning of her lungs and the pain in her chest that was pushing her was all she knew, even as she navigated a veritable gauntlet of defunct alien obstacles. She was only sure of one thing: under no circumstances would she let that stupid floating ball take her friend away from her.

Eventually, the prison droid lead her to a wide room shaped like a malformed hourglass, with the top part significantly wider than the bottom half.

"How do I turn it off?!" she demanded, and Dipper's wide blue eyes stared back at her with equal desperation.

"Shoot it!"

"I'm not shooting you!"

"You have to!"

"Never!"

By that time the orb had slotted into a circular crevice in the wall, out of which came sleek silvery something shaped like an almond. It began to float toward the larger end of the room, and the hatch where sunlight was pouring through. Wendy began fiddling with her magnet gun, forcing herself to aim it at the pod. She flinched as she pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Wendy stared on in horror as the pod stealing Dipper began to move upward, and she banged her magnet gun angrily. "Come on!"

When it finally showed full charge, she leveled it at the rapidly rising pod, and jumped as she fired it. She expected some blast of energy to come flying out or something. Instead, she was jerked toward the pod so fast her neck gave the loudest crick she'd ever heard. At that point, she screamed.

Now she was hanging onto the pod as it rocketed upward, at a speed that made her eyes hurt. She held onto her magnet gun for all she was worth, her screaming only intensified as it exited the ship at breakneck speed. The wind was roaring in her ears to the point that she couldn't hear own terrified voice, and when she saw the town from a bird's eye view, she nearly fainted. When the pod flew between the gap in Gravity Falls' cliffs, Wendy nearly slipped off. She didn't, though, and her hand found the end of her magnet gun.

It was on instinct that she rotated it to the side, whereupon a sign like the one used for wifi lit up one the side. Wendy was biting her lip so hard it bled when she shut her eyes and pulled the trigger.

Blue light arced around the ship. It stopped moving for a split second, where for the barest moment it stood stock still in the air, with nothing holding it up. Then it began to plummet to the ground, right into the forest.

Wendy wasn't coherent whatsoever on the way down. When the ship began to knock over trees, she shut her eyes tightly, preparing for the end. Everything seemed to slow down, and her life replayed before her shut eyelids: first she lost her mom, then she had her first kiss, then she saw the Pines twins for the first time, then she saw the shapeshifter and the bunker. She was zipping her lips and throwing away the key when she saw herself waking up in a cold sweat, laying in total silence while she contemplated how close she'd come to death that day. Weirdmageddon happened, her friends turning to stone while she ran, and she was hunting eyebats. She saw Dipper, scratched and cut and in alarmingly tattered clothes hugging her. She saw herself later that summer swapping hats with him, grinning. Something to remember me by.

She hit a tree.

She lost grip of her magnet gun and slammed into the trunk of one of the Falls' signature massive pines, and water appeared at the edges of her eyes.

Her eyes snapped open. Around her, small fires sprung up among fallen clumps of leaves and twigs. Trees were unbending themselves, resetting to their natural angles. Animals scampered away. The bones in her fingers hurt just to move. She saw that her shirt was cut in several places, along with numerous scratches that were all bleeding lightly. The sun was nearly at high noon. She didn't see the alien pod anywhere.

That got her moving. She pulled herself to her feet, clutching her side, and reached inside her jeans for her pocket knife. She found and despite the pain it caused her held it in a vice grip. She called out for Dipper over and over, following the little flames until she came across the pod. When she found it, her heartbeat stopped for a second.

There was small trench where the ship had crashed, with flecks of scorched dirt and mud peppering the blackened leaves of the trees. Snapped tree branches made the air even more noxious, as did the ash particles floating in the air. At the end of the alien craft, still inside the orb, pockmarked with bruises he most certainly didn't earn and completely unmoving, was Dipper.

Wendy didn't really remember rushing over to the pod desperately and all that. She could only recall clearly forcing it open with her knife and bare hands, as well as dragging her friend out of it. As he was pulled out of the pod, his eyes fluttered open. "Wendy… you're bleeding."

"It's just blood, man, it's cool." she said quickly, and Dipper giggled.

"You're funny."

Wendy elected to ignore that comment. "Dude. Man, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have pushed y-"

Her voice died in her throat when Dipper giggled again, laying his chin on her shoulder, leaning into her. He sniffled. "M'sorry."

(She did her utmost not to focus on the fact that that made her heart crack just a tiny bit, or that his hair was soft and fluffy. Or how well his head slotted into the crook of her neck, and how she could stay like this all day.)

She swallowed. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, man. This is all my fault."

"S'mine," Dipper said with another sniffle. "My fault."

Wendy had to put down her temptation to hug him right then and there, her sides be damned. "It's not."

"Is," Dipper choked, and he buried his face in her shoulder. "Me. Agreed to go with Ford to close the rift. Went to the ship. Messed up. Ford captured. Gave me apprenticeship. Took it. Mabel mad. My fault."

Wendy stiffened. Dipper continued.

"Fight. Mabel ran. My backpack. All my fault."

Wendy glared at the crashed alien ship. "That's bull."

"Isn't." Dipper sighed, before shivering. Soon enough, her shoulder felt damp. Wendy stared down as the tears ran down her shirt, and stung some when they reached her cuts.

"Let's - let's get you home. C'mon, man."

Wendy slid the backpack off Dipper's shoulders and slid a strap over her own left shoulder. She put Dipper's arm around her neck and wrapped her arm around his side to keep him upright.

Pulling both of them was hard, not made any easier by the fact that Dipper kept crying, emitting choked sounds and whenever she glanced over at him, his eyes had the look of a shattered mosaic.

They were perhaps fifteen minutes from the Shack when he let out a laugh thick enough with emotion to flood the valley. "Always loved you."

Wendy stopped and her head snapped over to him. "What?"

Dipper looked at the ground. "Always. Lied last year. Lied last last year. Liar."

"Dude…"

"So good…" he said, "Never had a chance. M'sorry."

Wendy didn't say anything for a moment, before shaking her head firmly. "It's cool, dude."

"It's not." Dipper said, then his eyes shut and his breathing slowly began to level out. In, out. In, out. Regular.

When Wendy got to the back door, Stan answered. He took one look at them and demanded his wrinkly ass get an answer right then or god help them both. Wendy told him the basics, about the crash, and Stan let her in. Carefully, they laid Dipper on his chair.

"You sure you don't want anything, kid?" Stan questioned. "You like you just got run over by a bus."

Wendy swung her head no. "I'm good, Mr. Pines. I can do first aid. Just like… call Mabel or something. I'll-" her eyes flickered to Dipper. "-I'll be fine."

Stan grunted. "No point arguing with you Corduroys. Alright. The others'll be here soon. Soonish."

Wendy forced herself to laugh.

Stan left the room, leaving her alone. Against her better judgement, her studied the unconscious, sweaty lump in his chair.

This kid was gonna be the death of her.

Mabel did like her grunkle when she arrived, demanding a blow-by-blow of everything that happened. Pacifica was there, as were Ford, Soos and Melody in due time. Wendy gave in, though she omitted Dipper's most likely concussion-fueled admissions. Those could be dealt with later. Much later.

After Ford made her and Pacifica swear to secrecy about the aliens, he gave Wendy a meaningful look as he left for his lab. Pacifica wanted to stay, but she had to leave for her shift at Greasy's.

Wendy sighed at the memory. When her friends asked what happened, she fed them a tale about a big fire-breathing monster. The guys bought it wholesale, while Tambry had a dubious look in her eyes the entire time. When the boys left for the arcade, she hung back with Wendy. "It's girl talk, Robbie." she told her boyfriend.

"Okay," he shrugged, "We're still up for the woodstick festival, right?"

"Yeah."

"Great. Have fun, Babe. I guess."

With that he left, and Tambry turned her eye-shadowed gaze to Wendy. "So what really happened?"

Wendy stiffened. Tambry snorted.

"I know when you're lying, Wendy. What really happened?"

"I… I can't talk about it."

"If you and that Pines kid did anything-" Tambry began, only to be emphatically cut off.

"Oh my god, Tambry! No! That's disgusting!"

Her friend shrugged. "Whatever. I just notice how you look at him is all."

Wendy glared furiously. "Hey!"

That day, she'd walked off in a huff and gone home. Now she was at the doorstep of that Pines kid, and was tensing when she saw a head of messy brown hair staggering toward the door.

Blearily, Dipper opened the door.

They hadn't seen each other in three years. They kept in touch, of course, but they hadn't physically seen each other in three years. College got in the way, Wendy told him. On one hand she was right, and on the other she knew she really valued it as a distraction from where her mind had developed a habit of drifting whenever they videochatted.

With a stretch and a yawn, Dipper asked, "Wendy? What're you doing here?"

Part of her wanted to grab his collar right then and there and kiss him till he couldn't think straight. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," Dipper shrugged, "But seriously, Wendy. Movie night's tomorrow. I mean, if you wanna start it now I guess…" he trailed off. "Wendy? You okay?"

Wendy strode past him and right into the living room. Dipper followed behind her concernedly.

She stopped in the middle of the living room, tapping her foot, back facing him.

"Is something wrong? Another breakup or something?"

Nothing. Wendy was trying to collect herself, but each time she did her composure collapsed a moment later. She gulped, and part of her snorted, crossing its arms.

"Dipper," she said slowly, "Y'know how back in the bunker you um, you said you loved me?"

"Oh, m-man, I'm sorry that was super-" Dipper began to stammer, but at that point Wendy gave in to her gut.

This kid. This kid who was kind and loyal and unsure of himself and scared easily and who got startled even more easily. Who went through an apocalypse at twelve and walked away from it stronger. Who didn't resent his crush for not returning his feelings and who was there for them when they were at their lowest. Who stayed in silence and watched as that crush dated for years, who'd helped save the world. This kid who she was still taller than after six years and who was willing to give up SOs just to stay friends with someone he thought didn't even want him. This kid - this goddamned kid would be the death of her.

When Wendy pulled back, Dipper's eyes were sparkling. "W-wha - you - what the - who - why - I. Um."

Wendy laughed. "Love you too."

Dipper opened and closed his mouth for several moments, and Wendy felt a pang of uncertainty. "A-after - you did?"

"'Course I did," Wendy said, "I was just too stupid to do anything."

"I never thought…" Dipper looked at the floor again, his cheeks pinking as he swallowed thickly. "I love you too, Wendy."

Wendy beamed at him, lifting his chin. "That's great, dude. Now shut it and kiss me."

Dipper laughed, and Wendy still wished they had that old recorder so she could get a loop of the sound. "Yes ma'am."

Wendy laughed at that, which made Dipper laugh. The laugh of one fed the laugh of the other, and soon enough, they were laughing their heads off. When they finally stopped, they both looked each other in the eye for a nice, soft moment. Wendy entwined their fingers and lead them both over to Stan's chair, letting Dipper rest against her. His head still fit just as wonderfully into the crook of her neck, and when he fell asleep, she found herself taking in the view granted to her.

Perfect neither of them was. They probably had a lot more to find out about each other. Those times could be hard. Really hard. But looking at him, she was certain that out of all the people in the world, Dipper Pines would do just fine.

*Peeks out of blanket burrito*

Oh. Hi there.

I haven't hit inspiration like this in a while, and man did it feel good to just write. This was the end result of listening to "Someone You Like" by The Girl and The Dreamcaster over and over again for months, thinking, "Y'know, this could really fit Dipper and Wendy. Then a tenth of a novel happened in two days.

I hope you enjoyed reading this. If this is your first time reading my work, feel free to take a gander at my other stuff. If you're a returning reader, I hope this is par my usual standard. I know I loved writing it, but I'm aware that I will forever be able to improve, so tell me what you think! What worked, what didn't - what made you hate my guts - all of it is welcome so long as it's civil.

Not much else for me to say, really. As always, any and all favs/follows/reviews will make my day. 'Till next time. - Raging Celiac