Dipper walked out of the house in a daze. He walked absentmindedly towards the Mystery Shack cart, which was overturned in the middle of the road. His shoulders burned from where the shorter one was gripped his shoulders. Police sirens wailed in the distance. Dipper looked off into the distance, towards the woods where those two men ran off. What were they? Why were they here?
Dipper couldn't handle the stress. As squad cars pulled in front of the house and onto the lawn, Dipper fell slowly into the darkness.
Stan Pines was standing in his room, sorting through several files. Dipper tried to call out to him, but his voice wouldn't work. He felt out of touch, not really all there. The printer in the room was hard at work, making multiple copies of documents Dipper couldn't make out. His Grunkle Stan worked furiously over the pieces of paper, taking the papers, sorting through, writing on each individually. The printer beeped a long, dull whine. Stan looked over the printer and slammed his fist onto the table. He got out of his chair to find another ink cartridge. When he got up, Dipper noticed something lying on the table.
A rectangular piece of leather, with pieces of paper sewn into the middle. Dipper slowly approached the table, flipping the piece of leather. On the front was a golden plate, in the shape of a hand with six fingers. On the copying machine was another book. Journal Number Three. This made no sense. Why was he copying pages of journals he already had? His brother make the journals, not Stan. Dipper could hear Stan returning, so he ducked behind an easy chair. Stan refilled the machine and continued his work. Stan hear a knock on the door and turned off the machine. Folding the journal, he slid back a portrait of himself and hid it behind a secret panel. Dipper backed up, bumping directly into someone. He turned around to apologize to Stan, but he realized, who could it be if Stan was at his worktable? He slowly turned his head to find a giant furry beast, with long horns, staring directly into his soul. Dipper opened his mouth to scream…
Dipper awoke in a hospital bed in a cold sweat. Machines whirred and beeped, signaling the doctors and nurses to Dipper's bedside. His breathing was labored, and doctors replaced medical bags, fiddled with machines, and changed up his blankets. By the time that the doctors had receded, police came in to ask him questions.
"Well, if it ain't the city boy," Sheriff Durland sauntered into the room. Dipper stared at the officer, surprised. "Deputy Durland? What are you doing here?"
The Sheriff laughed and sat on the edge of the bed. "Sorry, city-slicker, I'm the new sheriff 'round these parts. Sheriff Blubs took a bullet in the line of duty and got to retire in luxury. I'm here to question you on the deaths of teenager Michael Sawyer and local reporter Toby Determined."
Dipper was surprised to hear Toby was dead. He was always getting the brunt end of every situation, right to the end. "How was he killed?" Dipper asked. The Sheriff shook his head, saying "Nope. How do you think he was killed?" Dipper explained how Michael had been killed by the strange person who came to the party. He gave his descriptions of the two at the party while Durland just sat there nodding his head. "And why did they leave?" he questioned Dipper.
"They looked at my forehead. Said something about a mark." Dipper lifted his bangs to reveal his birthmark in the shape of the Big Dipper. Durland laughed hysterically at the mark, and Dipper just frowned. "Well, your description of the two men matches the other party members, so you are free to go. Keep your nose clean, son." Durland walked out without another word.
Dipper relaxed and eased his way into the bed. The doctors said he was suffering from minor blood loss and minor fractures. He was in pain, but it was pain he could tolerate. There was a knock at the door. He really didn't feel like dealing with anyone, so he rolled over and pretended to be asleep. The door creaked open quietly, and a soft whisper came from the outside. "Dipper? It's me, Pacifica."
Dipper tensed and stayed silent. He was definitely not ready to deal with Pacifica. She must think he was a total loser for getting beat around by Michael, and ending up in the hospital for it.
Pacifica approached the bed, despite the fact that Dipper looked like he was asleep. She sat down on the chair next to his bed. "I never really got the chance," Pacifica began, "to thank you. For everything. Inviting me to the party, protecting me from that creep. Getting me out of the house alive. Even back when we were kids. The mansion party, the mini-golf game. Even telling me about Nathaniel Northwest. No one would have had the guts to tell me the truth, but you…it made me look at the world a little differently.
"I know you think I'm still just a link on the world's worst chain, and that you pitied me and took me to the party. But, I think…I think I really, really like you. I can't explain it. We hardly know each other, but I feel like I have known you all my life. I just want to spend time with you, to get to know you better." Pacifica laughed pitifully to herself. "I could never tell you this if you were awake. I'm such a loser."
Dipper reached out and grabbed Pacifica's hand. He looked up at her. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes brimming with tears. With effort, Dipper sat up and looked her right in the eyes. "You aren't the loser. I am. You aren't just another link on the world's worst chain. You managed to break that chain. You are strong, independent, and certainly not pitied." He gently squeezed her hand. "And I want to know you better too."
With a bravado that he hadn't known he had, Dipper leaned into Pacifica. His heart monitor began to beep loudly as his heartrate increased, but neither Dipper nor Pacifica seemed to care. They held each other as they shared one sweet, honest, and seemingly eternal first kiss.
The doctors released Dipper two days later. They said he healed miraculously fast, and that he should be counting his blessings. When he returned to the Mystery Shack, all of his things were unpacked and resting in the hidden room that they had discovered years ago on their first trip to Gravity Falls. He relaxed on the couch sitting by the window, happy to be in a normal, peaceful environment.
Still, there was something nagging at him, tugging at the back of his brain. Like something he was supposed to remember. That dream he had at the hospital was faded and almost gone from his head, but something about it was certainly bothering him. Oh well, Dipper thought to himself, it probably wasn't too important if he didn't remember it.
