PART 3#

Housemaid: Mr. Pines was not the average employer.

He did not threaten her with termination upon finding his house dusty, in fact, he barely even noticed. He was always enwrapped in his work, spending many long hours in his study upstairs. He only glanced up from his work to give her a second long glance, before returning to his work. Wendy had glanced over his shoulder while serving him breakfast, and saw him writing gibberish onto a notepad as he stirred his coffee with his other hand. Despite his glances though, he wasn't a pervert like her last two employers.

He never made any innuendos, never approached her about the subject, and the uniform she was given was fairly conservative. If anything, she came to believe that, because he allowed her to slack off, and idly chatted with her at each meal, he wanted companionship more than sex. Not that she would exactly mind the attention, he was handsome in a sort of rugged way, with his refusal to shave until he practically had a beard, and his dark brown eyes, sharp and nimble.

The hours were strange, as he allowed her to sleep most of the day but required her to stay awake with him right up until midnight, when he would retire upstairs. There was a servants quarters in the Pines Manor, but he never restricted her from sleeping in the guest room, which was nicer than a four star hotel. In fact, she was allowed anywhere in the manor, with the exception of his room, the study, the attic and the twin bedroom which was connected to his.

He looked awful every morning, with dark circles underneath his eyes, he would always throw on the same red bathrobe over his pajamas. During the majority of the day, he was locked away in the study, murmuring to himself and scribbling down things with such force that it could be heard on the first floor (the study was on the third floor). But at night he became a totally different man, dancing to music, eating a feast of deserts (he somehow remained incredibly thin despite his diet), and cracking jokes which ranged from innocuous knock-knock jokes, to gallows humor about politics, religion, and the state of humanity. Often he would leap out of his chair, and pull out his recorder, reading off what he had already written on one of the many post it notes he left all over the house for himself.

His strange schedule made her wonder just what it was he did for a living, and when she asked him he laughed and waved the question aside, muttering something about "cryptography." He also had a pet pig, which seemed to be about as old as he was. It barely moved, and was fatter than its owner's head. Strangely enough, he rarely touched the pig, and never addressed it by name. Calling the swine "it" and "he", causing his maid to wonder why he even owned it. He also refused to buy a TV, insisting that she could amuse herself with his library (which was quite extensive), if she was bored.

The strangest part of the job though, was the guests. People rarely visited the Pines Manor, but it was always the same people who did. Sometimes it would be a slightly nervous, overweight Hispanic man, who Mr. Pines would welcome with open arms, smiling and cracking jokes with him, even if the man tried to talk to him about something serious. The man called Mr. Pines "Dipper", just like the fashionable blonde who showed up the most. She would always hug him, and give Wendy a disapproving look when alone in the same room with her.

And whenever the blonde visited, he would dance with her after dinner, up until midnight when he, as always, adjourned upstairs. Her suspicions about them being boyfriend and girlfriend (or at least friends with benefits) were somewhat corroded when the blonde took the guest room, and he slept in his bedroom.

Then there were the old men. Sometimes an old man with a cast, a beard, and a strange looking hat would arrive at the door, banging and demanding to be let in. The man always arrived when it was storming, covered up in a coat, his scarecrow hat collecting rainwater. He was very forgetful, as it took him several moments for him to recall his own name when she asked for it, and it took him longer than it should have whenever he tried to bring something up with "Dipper-my-boy." It was as if one moment he was about to declare the existence extraterrestrials, or that he invented a time machine. And the next moment, he was fumbling about in search of his glasses, asking what it was they had been talking about. "Dipper" humored the old man, and Wendy wondered if he had Alzheimer's, but he seemed to function too well for that to be the answer.

Then there was the OTHER old man, who apparently was a Pines himself. He was in a wheel chair, and practically begged to be let in every time he showed up at the door, which wasn't very often. She had only let him in the first time, due to how angry Mr. Pines had become the moment he laid eyes on the crippled old man. He had taken his relative back outside, giving her a glare which indicated that they would speak later. She couldn't really hear their argument from inside, but she made out "maple" and her boss blaming the old man for something, saying "It's all your fault" over and over again.

She didn't know why her boss hated the old man so much, as far as she knew he was the only other living member of the Pines family. Mr. Pines refused to speak of his parents, but she had once found a picture in the basement, of a happy family. Her employer looked around ten in the picture, and he smiled in a way that reminded Wendy of her brothers. It looked like he was hugging someone beside him. But the other person had been scratched out, and the same applied to the faces of the parents.

She had asked him about his family once, and at first he had been mad. Then he seemed to calm, and spoke in a voice full of resentment. "My family is full of idiots and thieves, and I'm just another link in the world's worst chain." She protested, stating that he was a decent man, and he gave her a look which made her wonder if she really believed her own words. "No I'm not. You know it, I know it. I could be if I really wanted, but I don't, so I won't. Cause that's the thing about us Pines…we would be a lot better off, if we could learn to leave well enough alone." She wondered what that meant while he downed the bottle of whiskey and continued, "There was only ever one person in my family who tried to break that chain. But she's no longer with us." He never spoke of it again after that, and she didn't ask.

Over time she found herself nearly obsessed with him, obsessed with the mystery of what kind of a life could have given birth to a man like him. A man who left his house about three times a year, who recorded his own notes, as though someone was stealing ideas from him, and who (based on his behavior in the morning) had trouble sleeping.

As the third year of her employment rolled around, the mystery startled to unfold. His friends visited more often, and they started arguing with them, insisting that he stop what he was doing. He started shouting with the bearded old man, became nearly violently angry at his soft spoken friend, and sent the blonde on her way with a disapproving glare. "Who needs them? I certainly don't…" he muttered that to himself several times throughout the summer, becoming even more reclusive than usual. He said it so much that she began hearing him say "Who needs them? We don't…" She began feeling quite nervous, as he was clearly planning something incredibly risky. But she was not fearful for his life, for there was such determination and rabid dogma in his eyes, that she was afraid what would happen to the rest of the world if he didn't/did accomplish his task. One day he was so tired that he fell asleep at breakfast, and his bed hair allowed her to spot the reason for his nick-name. He had a birthmark, resembling the Big Dipper, on his forehead. One early morning she had used her key to enter, and heard crying upstairs. She had climbed to the second floor and called out to him, asking if she should come back later.

He had stuck his head out the door frame, his eyes red, he was clutching the pig. After gulping he instructed her to begin on breakfast. A few days later he had dressed up and gone out after dinner, instructing her to stay in the house while he was gone. Her curiosity getting the best of her, she tried to open the door to the twin bed room and the attic, but found them both locked. The study door however, had been left open. Wendy entered, her guilt disappearing when she saw what lay on the desk. Picture after picture of a young girl were scattered around the office, some painted with water colors, some of them hanging in front of the rooms one window, and some overflowing from the filing cabinet across the wall.

Who is she? Theories began leaping through her head as she picked up one of the pictures and examined the besweatered girl in the picture. Was she his wife? Is she his daughter? Was she dead? Or was he not allowed to see her? Was she a childhood friend? Was she part of the "we" he had been talking about? The idea that he was obsessed with a twelve year old made her cringe, and she tried to reserve judgement, since she knew so little about the truth of the situation.

Turning to the files which were stacked on the desk, and leaned against it, she began digging through them, trying to get the disparaging thoughts about her employer. Half of them were lists of raw materials bought in bulk, and the other half were in one of his codes. Dream catcher's hung from the fan above, slowly twisting in the air as the golden light of the evening shined through a picture of the smiling girl, and highlighted the detritus which floated through the air. Wendy was about to put the files back and leave, when she spotted his recorder.

Glancing behind, she picked it up and pressed the button, the voice of the manor's owner filling the empty office. "I'm almost finished! All that is required is twelve more canisters of toxic waste! Nearly two decades, and it is all final coming together. I can't express how happy I'll be to succeed. I'm coming for you Mabe-" A hand slammed down on the button, ending the recording. Turning in surprise, her eyes widened when she found Dipper stared back at her, face tight with anger.

"Get out."

She gulped, "I just-" He leapt forward, his eyes becoming pools of madness, "GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!" He pointed and she ran out, feeling intimidated not by the millionaire's gangly form (she could overpower him if need be), but his murderous rage. He continued screaming as she descended the staircase, "GET OUT OF MY OFFICE! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" He ran to the top of the stairs, throwing the door open with such force that it broke off its rusty hinges, and sent splinters of wood everywhere.

She heard his breath turn into wheezing madness, and heard the crash of wardrobe, sent toppling over in a fit of anger. "A-and n-never come back…"

[0]

His outburst had brought her to tears, and she had to return to her apartment, and calm herself down. The next morning she decided to return. He was after all, her friend, and she felt a strange connection with him. He was clearly going through something awful, and clearly working on something equally awful. He needed her more than ever, and she wasn't about to turn him down even if he had gone insane on her.

It was six thirty AM, and He hadn't changed the locks, and he had never taken her key, so getting in was easy enough. She found the wardrobe from upstairs was lying at the bottom of the stairs, pieces of it everywhere. Wincing at the sight if the splintered oak, she climbed the stairs, hearing a thunderous noise coming from upstairs. Reaching the top of staircase, she looked into the study, and saw that all the pictures of the girl had been torn in half, or thirds in some cases. The poor pig was cowering under the desk.

Realizing that the sound was coming from further up, she ascended to the third floor, and found the door to his room, and the bedroom adjacent, open. The covers on his bed were torn to pieces, and the pillows torn open, causing feathers to drift in the dark and rest everywhere. Finally able to see what was inside the twin bedroom, she was not disappointed by what she found. A bed lay there, perfectly made, everything cleaned so that it didn't look like it had been abandoned. Poster hung on the walls, posters for twenty year old boy bands, and movie series that had been run into the ground many years ago.

The bed was too small for an adult, and everything was pink. Wendy began to put two and two together, and she rushed out of the room, thunder crackling outside as she realized that the rumbling was coming from the attic. She pulled down the set of stairs, and was nearly blinded by the flashing of blue and red which escaped from inside. "Mr. Pines?" The maid rushed up the stairs, catching sight of her employer just as her head entered the attic. Filled to the brim with boxes of junk, the most prominent object in the area was the bizarre machine on the other side of the room. Part of the roof had been pulled aside, and apparently the metal triangle was being fueled by bolt of lightning outside, judging by the Tesla coils and kites which fought against the tempest outside.

The insane genius stood beside it, pulling on a fray rope which extended into the swirl of color in the center of the machine, he was silhouetted by the streaks of violent electricity, and for a brief moment, Wendy thought that there was a strange creature standing behind him. Then it was gone, and he was dragged closer to the swirling vortex. The ginger tried to run up to him, but the pillars of electricity made it extremely difficult to do so. With no choice, she called to him again, "MR. PINES!" Still he didn't turn away from his task, his hair whipped in the wind, revealing his astronomical birthmark to the world.

Trying one last time to get his attention, the lanky redhead called him by his nickname, the one all his friends did. "DIPPER!" He turned at the sound of the name, and their eyes locked, tears pooling in his. Feeling her heart sink, she yelled the first thing that popped into her head. "LET HER GO DIPPER!" Although she didn't have all the facts, or even the crucial details, everything had finally snapped together.

The tears followed more freely and he looked like a broken man. "But she…I can't she…I've sacrificed everything for her…and I'll do it again…I have to…" Wendy bit her lip, and saw that he was moments from being dragged into the portal. "Listen to me Dipper, I have three brothers, and I would do anything for them…but your sister she…she isn't there. She isn't waiting for you. She probably died a long time ago, and all you're doing is making yourself miserable." He looked at his hands, tugging on the rope harder, and wincing in pain, as they tore against his hands from the force of the opposite pull.

He looked back up, "Wendy…I love you…" She felt like she'd been hit by a bullet train, "…but I can't go on without her. It-it's my fault she got stuck in there, and I…I…I have to make it right." He grew a determined look, one which was less dark and more courageous. Biting her lip, she called out one last time, "Then let me help!" He was shocked by the offer but gave a small smile, before flipping a switch, and watching the pillars of lightning retract. Wendy jumped in, and grabbed the rope, and he flicked the streams of energy back on. Together, they succeeded, and pulled the person on the other side out. Dipper turned off the machine before it exploded, and ran over to the crumpled figure. A thirty year old woman looked up at him, and gave him a small smile, able to get out a few words before falling unconscious. "I knew you would come bro…I knew it."

Wendy drove the man and his sister to the hospital, and he explained the truth in the car. By the time Mabel (which apparently, was the name of his sister), had been taken into a hospital room, she only had one last question. "Do you…do you really love me?" He blushed, "Well…yes. The reason I picked you was because you were attractive, and the reason I let you slouch was because I never had the heart to order you about. And really I…I had been alone so long, I wanted someone around, someone who would help me keep my sanity. And you, you proved to be a greater woman then I could ever have anticipated. You, you helped me, you jumped into danger to help a man you barely know." Her cheeks turned red, and she moved a little closer to him.

"Well I wouldn't say that I barely know you…"

The sequels to "Suicide" and "Crash" will be in the next chapter. :)