Author's Note: I realize that the consensus in the fandom is that The Unknown was really just impending death for Wirt and Greg, but in my fic I want to treat it like different world/dimensions. It would be a lot more difficult to have Wirt and Beatrice end up together if she was actually dead. Also thanks again for your support for this fic. Knowing others are enjoying it pushes me to continue.
Beatrice had written five letters to Wirt over the course of a week, before she decided it simply wasn't enough to quiet her loneliness. The emotions she had laid out on paper for her imaginary Wirt to read were raw and exposed a part of her that she had never been willing to share with anyone before, but Beatrice also felt there was something else to be done. What exactly that something else was she wasn't sure, but writing just wasn't enough.
The idea eventually came to her one evening during dinner. She had been ignoring the others around her, thinking about him again, when a memory whispered a plan into her ear. Then once her dinner was finished, Beatrice asked to be excused, ran upstairs to retrieve a few items from her room, and then opened the front door to leave. "I'm going out for a little bit," she told anyone within earshot, but of course, it was only her mother who responded.
"So late? What could you possibly need to do at this time?"
Beatrice slowly turned around, but still held the door open as a way of conveying her intent to leave no matter what her mother said. "Don't worry about me. I promise to be back before dark."
A few seconds ticked by while the older woman considered Beatrice's words before she finally sighed her reply, "Well, make sure to bring George. He'll protect you."
Beatrice sent a sidelong glance to the family dog lounging on a rug near the fireplace. He was a Great Dane who could barely chase a squirrel without falling flat on his face and there was no way that animal was going to protect her. Beatrice also took offense to her mother implying that she couldn't take care of herself and had to rely on an inept dog for protection. Still, if it was the only concession she had to make in order to leave without an argument, then it wasn't such a bad one. Her mother insisting she bring George was better than her recommending a chaperon in the form of a brother. Considering what she planned to do, Beatrice would definitely take a dog who couldn't comment on the situation over a sibling with a long history of teasing.
Sticking two fingers into her mouth, Beatrice produced a loud whistle that alerted George and he instantly jumped up on all fours. "Come here, boy!" she called enthusiastically and the family pet quickly came running up to lick her face. "Gross," she scolded him, but secretly Beatrice enjoyed the dog's expression of love.
"Before the sun goes down," she heard her mother's stern, but loving reminder.
Beatrice held back the retort that was playing on the tip of her tongue, knowing her mother's anxiety was rooted in the fact her eldest daughter had disappeared once before after saying she was only leaving for a short walk outside. "I promise not to do anything that will get us all turned into birds, but if I do for whatever reason, I also promise to come right back here and admit my mistake." Beatrice made light of the curse in an attempt to put her mother's worries to rest.
She knew it had worked when the older woman softly laughed, "Yes, do try not get us turned into birds again. I've grown accustomed to having fingers and I rather like them."
"Yeah, same here." Beatrice sent her mother a reassuring smile and then walked outside with George following behind.
Her destination wasn't far and the thought of that caused a little sensation of guilt to press against Beatrice's newly developed conscience, reminding her of her past wrongdoings. She had known from the start that it was the garden wall Wirt and Gregory had been searching for and when she came to their aid it really wasn't to be helpful at all. To be helpful would have meant choosing the short path through the woods that would have led the brothers to their destination. Beatrice knew the way. She had been to the wall countless times before considering it was so close to her home, but for her own selfish purposes, she had led them astray. If she hadn't gotten involved in their lives then perhaps they would have found their way home sooner, without so many mishaps, and near death experiences. An apology for her part in their excessive wandering was written in one of the letters to Wirt. Beatrice had spent a long time finding just the right words for that one and it would be the first she would read once her and George arrived at the wall.
As she walked along, the memory that had spoken to her while she ate dinner, briefly played in Beatrice's head. She and Wirt had been forced together, locked inside a wardrobe, when he admitted that he sometimes recited poetry to himself. The confession had sounded weird to her at the time and honestly still did, but maybe if it helped him work through his issues, then it could do the same for her. "Aw cheese and crackers this is going to be so awkward," Beatrice mumbled to herself and George looked up at her. "Sorry, but you wouldn't understand. Human stuff," she explained to the dog and he barked back a response. "You're telling me," Beatrice replied, not having the faintest idea what George was trying to say.
The sun was starting to inch closer towards the horizon and knowing her time was limited, Beatrice began to speed up her pace, while George ran ahead as if taunting her with his ability to move faster. "Well, you aren't wearing a dress!" she yelled after him.
When Beatrice finally reached the wall and sat down against it, her heart sank a little, because she knew there was only time to read one letter. With a sigh, she resolved to come back tomorrow after school and try again. "Hey, George I thought I saw a squirrel over there," she told her dog, but he just stared at her blankly, his tongue hanging from the side of his mouth. "Look at this, George. Look!" Beatrice picked up a stick and waved it in front of his face. "Go get it," she ordered after hurling the wood away. He went after it, but didn't return. George wasn't one to play fetch and Beatrice knew this. He would find something else to distract himself with which was what she had wanted all along. Reading her words to Wirt out loud was embarrassing enough without George staring her down with his judging eyes. "Goodbye George, don't come back too soon," she whispered with a nervous giggle.
Once he was out of sight, Beatrice reached down to pull up the bottom of her dress to reveal the loosened hem on the other side. Inside were four of the five letters she had brought along. It hadn't been an easy feat, rolling the papers tight enough and then tying them with string to keep that shape, but it had been her only recourse. Coming down the stairs holding the letters for everyone to see was a risk she wasn't willing to make. If one of them had fallen into the hands of any of her brothers … she shuddered at the thought. Her reputation would have been ruined and everyone would know that Beatrice was really a sap … or at least she was when it concerned Wirt and Greg.
A quick look through the pile revealed that none of envelopes contained the letter she wanted to recite and in one swift movement, Beatrice reached down into the front of her blouse to produce the remaining letter. "There you are," she said, and opened the envelope. The first words that began her message to Wirt stared back at her and Beatrice was unable to fight the sudden surge of stage fright.
Closing her eyes, she pulled in a lung full of the cold autumn air and then let it out with a loud whoosh. "Dear Wirt, I miss you." Her voice was shaky, but after a few more times of rehearsing the words she could still see behind her lids, a tiny amount of courage began to work its way through her system. Finally the nervousness subsided and Beatrice was able to open her eyes again, ready to face the entire letter. Only instead of seeing her written words, she saw George's wet tongue slopping his saliva all over the paper. At first Beatrice screamed in surprise, but then promptly chided her dog by saying, "You dummy," before moving the creature aside. "Yuck," she complained as her hand gently shook off the drops of slobber from the paper. "I hope you didn't ruin this."
George didn't seem to care about Beatrice's irritation and went to lay down at her side. She in return rolled her eyes at him as her hand continued to move her letter in a back and forth motion, but Beatrice stopped suddenly when her eyes caught sight of a different piece of paper laying on the skirt of her dress. It didn't belong with any of her letters, but like the one she held, it was covered in dog saliva. There was so much of it that Beatrice assumed George had carried the paper in his mouth at some point. "George, what's that?" she asked him, as if he could answer. Her dog lifted his head and panted in reply. "Ugh, you're useless," Beatrice muttered and then reached for the wet paper
As Beatrice gently shook it, something hard fell onto the ground with a thunk and she reached down to pick it up. The item was a small rectangle about the size of her hand. There were two holes in the center and on closer inspection, Beatrice saw that these holes contained tiny teeth. For a brief moment Beatrice worried that the thing might bite her.
Don't be silly. It's obviously dead … or maybe it was never alive.
She wondered if the piece of paper it had been wrapped in might hold a clue to what the mystery object was, and Beatrice turned her attention back to it. With gentle hands, she unfolded the wet paper and read the words that were thankfully still visible despite copious amounts of dog drool.
Dear Beatrice, If you're lonely press play to listen to these really cool songs. Love, Wirt
Instantly Beatrice was on her feet. "Wirt?" she called out, but the only answer she received was a loud bark from George. "Where did you find this? Take me there!" Beatrice demanded and for probably the first time ever in his dog life, George did as he was told.
The area wasn't far and when Beatrice arrived she bent down to pick up another piece of paper. The first had been a short note from Wirt along with a device that must have been common where he was from. The second was a child's drawing of a bluebird with the words To: Beatrice, From: Greg written underneath the picture. "Greg," Beatrice whispered and she trailed her fingers over the bluebird. They weren't here were they? No, they couldn't be. Was she going crazy? "How is this possible?" she asked George, because he was the only one there.
Slowly, with Greg's drawing in one hand and Wirt's note in the other, Beatrice returned to the spot where she had been before and then sank to the ground, afraid if she stood for much longer that her light headedness would do her in. "If they left something for me … maybe, maybe I can leave something for them?" she thought out loud. Then reaching up with her hand, Beatrice touched the wall, wondering if the barrier between them wasn't so concrete after all. Maybe she could still communicate with them. "That's the dumbest thing you've ever said," Beatrice admonished herself and George seemed to agree with a bark.
Still …
Pulling up the letter she had been planning on reading, Beatrice stared at it for a long moment. "It couldn't hurt to leave this for Wirt. I could come back tomorrow and if the letter is still here then I'll know that I must be losing my marbles or … if it's gone, I might not be totally separated from them like I thought." George replied with a sloppy lick to her face and instead of showing her disapproval like usual, Beatrice wrapped her arms around his neck. "Thanks for finding this, George."
When she pulled away, Beatrice noticed the sun was nearly set and quickly gathered all her letters and placed them back into her hem … all except one. That letter was placed in the same spot she had found Gregory's drawing. With any luck there would be no need to read it out loud after all, because the one Beatrice had written it for would be able to read it himself.