"Dipper."

Dipper felt someone shake him, and he blinked his eyes open. He could barely see a face illuminated by the tiny flame of a match. "Grunkle Stan?" he asked.

"Yep." The match went out, and they were engulfed in darkness. "How you feelin'?"

Dipper sat up, and slowly he began to make out figures in the darkness. "Fine, I think. What happened?"

"We fell," Stan said simply. "Through a crack in the ground."

"Right, okay, but how far down? Where are we now? And are the others…" he stopped when he suddenly recognized one of the figures. "Oh my gosh, Pacifica!" He rushed to her side.

"Relax, kid, she's fine," Stan said. "I just didn't feel like being the one to wake her up."

"Do you have another match?" Dipper asked urgently.

Stan handed one to him. "But not too many more," he said.

"This is bad," Dipper said. "Like, really bad."

"Ya think?" Stan asked.

Dipper leaned over Pacifica and gently touched her face. "Hey," he said. "Pacifica, wake up." He could still remember a time where he would have enjoyed being the one to knock her out, but he hadn't felt that way towards her in a long while. "Pacifica," he said. "McGucket got into your makeup bag." He couldn't tell if that's actually what made her open her eyes and sit up just then, but he made a mental note to tease her about it later.

Pacifica stared at him for a moment, and then said "Is this blood in my hair? Because I really don't look good in blood."

Dipper wanted to be annoyed that that was her primary concern, but he couldn't help smiling instead. "Nah, just mud," he said, as the match went out.

"Well, at least now no one can see it," she said.

"Yeah, we also can't see anything else, milady," Stan snorted.

"Oh, great, what'd you bring him for, Dipper?" Pacifica asked.

"Wow," Dipper said. "We're stuck who knows where for who knows how long, and you two still only speak fluent bully?"

"Well, it's not like this is the worst situation I've been in," Stan said. "Though it probably does come into the top ten. But I mean, we're breathing right? So there's oxygen. And that means a way out."

"Yeah, but what if we never find it?" Dipper asked anxiously.

"We'll just keep looking until we do," Stan said. "Unless you've got better things to do."

That quieted Dipper for a while. Stan groped around in the darkness until he found a stick from the debris that had fallen with them. He took Pacifica's jacket, despite her protests, and wrapped it around the stick, before lighting it with one of his remaining matches. Dipper was greatly reassured to be able to see their faces for longer than a couple of seconds. But something else quickly rose in his mind to dash that comfort. "Where's everyone else?" he asked.

"We fell through a crack in the ground, right?" Pacifica asked. "But there was more than one crack, so we were probably all split up."

"And if we survived, they probably did, too," Stan said, resting a hand on Dipper's shoulder. "Don't worry, squirt, I'm sure Mabel's fine."

But the mention of Mabel's name just made Dipper more upset. "Oh my gosh, Mabel!" he moaned. "I fought with her, I…if those were the last words she ever hears from me I'll never forgive myself."

"Hey, Dipper, listen to me." Stan spun Dipper around so that they were facing each other. "We all said things up there we regret, okay? Violetta was right; that place was having an evil influence on us."

"That's no excuse to say I didn't love her!" Dipper cried.

"Not saying it is. Though you said nothing of the kind. I'm just saying she'll know you didn't mean it. But it doesn't matter anyway, 'cause we're gettin' out of here, and you can give her all the apologies you can think of." He paused for a moment, then added "speaking of which, I'm… sorry for what I said to you. I know you two didn't forget us…you called us at least once a week, and sometimes more often than that. And I don't really begrudge you at all for going out and living the lives you led when you were here last time. That is why you came, after all."

Dipper shrugged. "Well, you were right, we haven't been there for you as much as last time. I guess we thought you didn't need us, since you have a twin of your own now."

"Heck, Dipper, you know that'll never be the case," Stan grinned, shoving him playfully. "His ugly mug is pretty much the only one I've seen for three years! I've missed you two somethin' fierce, and Ford has, too. We'll both always need you." Dipper smiled, and Stan held out his hand to him. "Now come on. We'd better stick together, because I ain't coming back for either of you."

Dipper took his hand, and held out his own to Pacifica. She looked at in hesitation, and Dipper felt a slight annoyance begin to rise up in him. "What, is my hand too commonplace for you?" he asked, and the annoyance instantly vanished as he realized that wasn't it.

"Of course not," she said quietly, and took his hand.

The light from Stan's makeshift torch showed that what they'd fallen into wasn't just a freak pit, but great caves that had been intentionally carved out. There were occasional drawings on the walls, with cryptograms Dipper would have loved to try and interpret, but not right now. It was rather comforting to see that people had been there before, though, since they would have needed an escape route as well. But the three had no idea how far down they were, since looking up only showed a vast darkness, with no ceiling or daylight to cut it off. They didn't say anything, but all were fervently hoping they'd bump into some more of their party, even though the path wasn't straightforward, but had many turns and forks, and they could only pick one and hope it would lead somewhere productive. But they didn't meet anyone or anything, and they mostly were so focused on finding the exit that they forgot to speak.

"How long have we been walking?" Pacifica finally asked at one point. "Feels like hours."

"Honestly, do you even try to keep the whininess out of your voice?" Stan asked, but then added less sharply, "Hours is probably an accurate guess. We should probably decide whether to camp out here or keep walking through the night."

"How can you tell when it's night?" Dipper asked.

"When your body lets you know, I suppose," Stan said.

"I can't even imagine sleeping on the floor," Pacifica sighed. "But my feet are killing me, and I'll probably die from hunger pretty soon anyway."

Dipper hesitated. Part of him didn't want to stop walking until he'd found the others, but he also knew that they'd already had a day of walking before being swallowed by the earth, and that Stan often didn't let his age control him and Pacifica was probably greatly lacking in stamina. "Yeah," he said slowly. "I think we should stop. For now, anyway. Until it feels like it might be morning."

"Awesome," Pacifica said. She let out a sigh and fell where she stood. "Here's good."

There were some rocks lying around, and a whole lot of dirt, but no wood, so they couldn't make a real fire, much to their disappointment. The jacket had burnt up some time ago, and Stan had resorted to his dress shirt, but now that was close to burning out as well. Stan stuck the torch in the ground anyway. Then he reached into his pack and pulled out…the Mabel bars.

Dipper managed a laugh. "Classic Mabel foresight."

"Yeah," Stan said wistfully as he passed them out. "I only wish she was here to say 'I told you so.' "