AN: This tragic fic is based of some fan art I saw a while back, set as the cover. I don't know who the artist is, sadly. Basically what if Dreamscaperers ended horribly wrong. Contains blood and tragedy, I warned you. Read at your own risk.
Written as a gift to my best friend Kattata on Flight Rising, who loves blood and tragedy in writing and whom I wanted to cheer up.
Title comes from a poem I wrote. The original line came from a hopefully ending to the poem, and was "I am not hole but whole." I reversed it for this fic.
Dipper was holed up in a dark part of Stan's mindscape, back pressed to a wall, legs drawn up to his chest, and forehead resting on his knees. His hat had been pushed halfway off when he had folded up into this position, and was now perched precariously on his fluffy hair.
He was near a hall called 'Worst Fears', and all he could hear were muffled screams and curses. Once, he heard the word 'kids,' which just seemed to affirm that Grunkle Stan hated him. He sniffed again, then reached up and adjusted his hat without moving anything but his arm.
The small boy knew he should be helping Soos and his sister save his grunkle's mind, but he didn't want to move. Mabel had brushed off what he'd heard as if it was unimportant. She knew Stan loved her, the old man always acted like it. And Soos had claimed time and time again he'd do anything for Stan. He meant it. But Dipper was the only one sporting a hole in his chest, and he felt like he had a hole in his heart. Funny, the physical one didn't hurt, didn't even look like a real wound, just a cartoon cut-out, but the metaphorical one ached.
Why did it hurt so much? No one except his sister and parents had ever liked him before, why did one crusty old man hating him matter so much? Dipper supposed it was because he had thought maybe Grunkle Stan did like him, at least a little. A few days earlier, Stan had helped him to feel better after Wendy had gotten mad at him… And now he knew Stan didn't want him around and might even send him home. Without Mabel, without solving the mystery of Gravity Falls… He'd be stuck back in Piedmont with no friends, a sister in another state, and parents who worked the whole day.
He was alone. He could cry over that thought all he wanted.
Mabel and Soos could beat Bill without him. After all, if he was as weak and useless as Stan claimed, how would he help? Dipper drew his vest tighter around himself, knowing exactly why Mabel liked hiding in Sweater Town. It was better than facing the world with tears in your eyes.
The boy peered over the top of his knees at the dusty gray floorboards, tears in his hazel eyes as he watched a small spider scuttle past. Then he slammed a fist down on the floorboards and grimaced. "Grunkle Stan called me weak and here I am curled up and crying! Maybe… Maybe he's right." The anger that had surged in Dipper was quickly dying.
"Maybe he's right."
Shakily, Dipper got to his feet and dusted himself off. Taking one last look down the hall of Stan's fears, hearing the word 'kids' echoing through it again, he sighed and turned away, rummaging through his pockets in hope that he had a tissue.
If he'd taken the time to seek out the memory he kept hearing in the hall of fears, he would've found a door concealing a memory that never happened. Stan running through the woods at night, terrified, calling their names and 'kids' over and over, all the while knowing that they were gone forever.
Dipper hadn't found a tissue, so he was using his shirt to dry his face. It wasn't very useful when there was only two inches of fabric and then a gaping hole. What was he looking for? He didn't know. But then he head familiar laughing and found he was in a room full of Mabel memories. And almost all of them were happy, like Stan telling her he was proud of her, or her telling Stan he was amazing after he saved Waddles from the pterodactyl.
"At… At least my sister is happy," Dipper sniffled out with a sad smile no one could see.
Or he thought no one could see. A yellow triangle watched from a higher reality, chuckling to himself. "OH, SELFLESS PINE TREE, ALWAYS GIVING UP STUFF FOR HIS SIBLING. THINKS NO ONE LOVES HIM. EH, HE'LL BE PROVEN WRONG SOON BUT BY THEN IT'LL BE TOO LATE!" And he vanished. The Bill that Question Mark and Shooting Star were fighting was merely a copy. A copy that didn't have all Bill's powers, that was for sure. But Bill was only using Gideon, and if the copy failed then so what? He was summoned, he got inside Stanley's mind, and that was what mattered.
Before vanishing, Bill snapped and a flicker of blue flame sparked before dying. It appeared to change nothing. But really… It changed everything.
As Bill predicted, his copy was easily defeated by Mabel and Soos. Both of the humans had fought the fight on edge, worried about Dipper and where he could have gone. When the dream demon changed the mindscape to a flat white expanse, neither payed attention as they looked for-
"DIPPER!" Mabel shouted, tackling her brother into a hug that sent them both sprawling. "Where were you? I know I didn't listen before, but it was important… Wait Dipper, were you crying?"
"No," said Dipper resolutely, trying to hide his red eyes under his hat. "It's dusty in here, that's all…"
"TOUCHING REUNION BUT I THINK IT'S TIME YOU PINES WOKE UP." Said Bill, watching with his arms crossed.
"Woah you think I'm a Pines? You may be an evil dude, but thanks," Soos said with a laugh. Then he looked down at his hands, which felt tingly. "Oh dudes I think we're waking up…" His skin was flickering, and when he looked over at Dipper and Mabel, so were they.
Bill was gone.
"Are you okay, Dipper dude?" Soos asked as he got closer. Apparently waking up was a slow process.
"I'm fine!" Dipper cried out. "I'm not crying! I'm not weak, and I'm not useless!"
The last word echoed as the world flashed white and then resolved into the living room.
"Ugh, what a weird dream," Stan mumbled as he stretched.
Something was wrong. To Dipper, Stan's voice sounded all tinny and full of static. He couldn't breathe. Why couldn't he breathe? He tried to sit up and failed. He was shaking, too. Why?
There was a piercing scream and he flinched. "M-Mabel." It had been his sister. Her face swam into view, her hands were on his chest… In… his chest?
Stan was transfixed with horror. He had no idea what had occurred, just that his nephew whom he loved, loved more than almost anyone aside from Mabel and his own brother, was bleeding out on the floor. There was a perfectly circular hole carved out of Dipper's chest, right in the center. The ends of his bones were visible, along with writhing intestines and half a stomach that was leaking a clear, smelly fluid. His lungs were mostly gone, the leftover bits wriggling pathetically, unable the do anything as Dipper's mouth opened and closed. And the leftmost half of Dipper's heart was trying futilely to beat, to pump blood as it was supposed to, but without the right half it could do nothing.
Dipper was dying.
Everyone in the room knew it, including Dipper himself. He now knew that, somehow, that terrible would had carried over with him into the real world and he was lying in a sticky, hot, and steadily increasing pool of his own blood.
And he was crying again. Weak. It hurt, but a manly person would never cry. Not even now. Then a strong pair of arms scooped him up, and he could still feel a small hand in his, his fingers rapidly losing all feeling and going numb. That was Mabel. And Stan was holding him. He could still see him, if barely, and… Oh, and he felt hot wet drops on his skin. When one landed too close to his wound he flinched. A hand was run through his hair at that, and the chest he was held against was shaking.
"Dipper," came Stan's rough voice. "Dipper, what… What…"
Maybe Stan did care. Maybe what had been said had been said in anger. But everything was fading now, fading fast, and Dipper was still confused. He could faintly hear the shrieks of his sister, calling his name and screaming that she loved him and please don't go.
But he was already gone. The last thing he felt was confusion, an emotion he hated.
Dipper was slack in Stan's arms, and Stan was sobbing like a baby. Blood still dripped through his fingers, one hand clamped over the hole in Dipper's back as if that would help the boy. Some of it had been selfish instinct; he hadn't wanted to view anything through the chest of his nephew. He looked at the others, demanding explanation as to how, how this could have happened.
Mabel and Soos were inconsolable, and only later would they be able to explain, to find the strength to tell the story. Stan would never be able to shake his horror that Dipper had thought Stan hated him. He'd try to make up for it every day by thinking I promise I love you, Dipper. I promise.
But he was too late. He was always too late.
And in that moment, the moment with the broken old man holding a dead boy and watching a sobbing girl and handyman, the small, hidden shadow of a triangle grinned and vanished.