Playing Hooky


Mabel was in the middle of an interview with a witness when she got the call. She'd set the ring-tone for Dipper's psychiatrist to Recover by CHVRCHES because she loved the irony.

Dr. Hoppus never called without a good reason, so Mabel silenced her cell and finished questioning her witness with all possible speed. It was times like these where she missed having Ray there to swoop in and take over when she needed it.

Racing down the sidewalk to her car, Mabel dialed the institution. She took a deep breath to calm herself and patiently waited for the doctor to answer. After a few rings a click sounded as someone picked up the receiver.

"Didsomethinghappen?"

So much for calm.

Dr. Hoppus hummed, sounding as if she was thinking carefully over what she was about to say. "Yes. But it's nothing extremely serious, Mabel."

"What's wrong?"

"Dipper didn't wake up this morning. Which isn't an issue. On days he sleeps in, we like to let him. Lord knows he doesn't get enough. But it's been over fifteen hours now. He hasn't stirred and no one has been able to rouse him. We took his vitals and did an EEG, just to double check."

"And?" Mabel prompted.

"And everything's normal." Dr. Hoppus assured her, "He's just asleep. Dreaming. The only thing I can't figure out is why it's been so long. I thought maybe you'd like to come in and take a stab at waking him up."

"Sure. I can do that."

"It won't interfere with your work, will it?"

Mabel looked over the list of questions she had yet to ask the other witnesses, "Um… no?"

She could easily detect the woman on the other end of the line roll her eyes, "I've told you before and I'll tell you again. Dipper is doing well. We take good care of him. Please don't needlessly risk your employment."

"I won't, doctor." Mabel promised, "But I'd like to come see him."

"Okay."

"See you shortly, doctor."

"Are there any advance preparations you need?" Dr. Hoppus asked.

"Yeah. Can someone set out the candles from Dipper's locker?"

"Sure thing."

Mabel ended the call and immediately dialed the Salem Police Department. She was relieved to hear a very familiar voice answer the phone.

"SPD, this is Officer Archer speaking."

"Madison," Mabel spoke quickly, "Something came up at the institution. I'm going over. Can you punch me out at," she checked her watch, "two thirty-eight. If anyone asks about the interviews, tell them I'll have them finished by tomorrow. Promise."

"Sure thing, detective."

"Thanks, Madison. I owe you one."

"I'll cash that 'one' next time you make some of your homemade cookies. Good luck. I hope everything's okay with your brother." The young officer hung up without further ado. Mabel could never be thankful enough for her respectful lack of prying.

Mabel had been that kid in elementary school who'd had a hard time sitting still. She found that, at times like these, that fidgety tendency was still present. The thirty minute drive to the institution was painful. She tried tuning in to all her favorite radio stations, but in the middle of the day, there were too many adds to keep her brain preoccupied.

"Sweet Moses." She muttered to herself, settling with a shoddy parking job in her haste.

She tapped the counter impatiently as the receptionist checked her in. "Sign here." Her handwriting wasn't legible. "Here's your pass." She snatched the proffered plastic card from the woman and flashed an apologetic smile.

Easily navigating the halls of the institution, Mabel found the familiar room with the plain nametag – 'Dipper Pines'. The only reason Dipper's real name was there was because of Pacifica's connections. She'd done graduate level research with Dr. Hoppus, and had a heavy hand in getting Dipper the help that would match his needs. Officially, Dipper had been prosecuted under the name Forrest Altair and 'Dipper Pines' was simply a sobriquet.

Speaking of the doctor, the woman nearly bumped into Mabel when she arrived. Dr. Hoppus' head was down as she added notes to an exhaustive stack of reports. Mabel could certainly empathize. While detective work could have its exciting moments, she still had loads of paperwork. She couldn't even begin to imagine how much was required of a medical professional.

"Oh, Mabel!" the woman pushed up her glasses, "You're here. That was quick."

Mabel glanced at her watch, "It's been almost an hour, doctor."

"Yes, yes." Dr. Hoppus waved the comment away, "I'm sorry. It's easy to get wrapped up in my work. I was just about to check on Dipper, but it seems I won't need to. Unless there's something else you need."

Dr. Hoppus always amazed Mabel with the lengths she went to in order to care for her patients. Her job must be incredibly demanding, and yet, here she was, willing to help in any way. It made her wonder just what kind of life the doctor was able to maintain outside of work. Mabel would never be one to critique. After she'd spent a few years of her life in an unhealthy relationship with her job, she appreciated the balance she'd attained since her transfer to Salem.

"No. But thank you, doctor." Mabel said, "I think we'll be fine." Thank you for everything you've done for my brother. He's so much better than he was when he was admitted a few months ago. She felt incapable of conveying the depths of her gratitude, so instead, she let herself into Dipper's room.

Her brother was tucked neatly into his bed, sleeping the same way he'd done when they were kids. It was good to know that some things didn't change. One arm was pinned under his pillow, and the other – the one that her bullet had taken a bite out of – was rested on his stomach, slowly rising and falling with his breath. Despite the number of hours he'd slept, there were still bags under his eyes; not as pronounced, but still there. She wondered if they'd be a permanent fixture on his face.

Dr. Hoppus was right in saying that this was nothing extremely serious. Her brother was only asleep. Mabel could tell just by looking at him. But she also knew that Dipper was perfectly capable of orchestrating said transformation into Sleeping Beauty.

Mabel cracked a smile as she imagined Pacifica's reaction to that comparison. She'd probably deny it while heated cheeks betrayed her true answer.

"Geez, Dipper." She muttered as she set out the candles in a semi-circle, "You're such a problem child."

Cracking open Journal 3, Mabel quietly read off a familiar incantation.

"Fidentus omnium. Magister mentium. Magnesium ad hominem. Magnum opus. Habeas corpus. Inceptus Nolanus overratus. Magister mentium. Magister mentium. Magister mentium."

She decided to forgo the dramatic flair Dipper had used when they were kids. In her limited experience, it didn't change the effect of the spell. Dipper didn't even speak to cast spells nowadays, so she figured it didn't matter.

A rush filled her ears as her own consciousness was sucked away. She let the magic run its course, closing her eyes as she 'fell asleep' and entered Dipper's mind.

Moments later, the dreamscape resolved around her. Black and gray and white. Color centralized around his memories. Mabel had never been in Dipper's mind before. It wasn't a place she was eager to invade. But that didn't mean she wasn't curious.

Where Stan's dreamscape had been consolidated in the Shack, Dipper's was open and sprawling.

She wasn't sure what kind of structure it was supposed to be, but it felt like a university library – filled with so many books that most would never be opened. She couldn't see any kind of ceiling, but lights with cone-shaped shades were suspended from the murk at regular intervals.

She had been deposited somewhere near the middle. Reading and writing desks surrounded her on every side, stacks of paper piled high on every one. Some desks were organized while others looked like the documents had been recently disturbed.

Upon closer inspection, she noticed scenes play over some of the papers, letter's danced across another, while others were stagnant. Color effused softly from the surface of the documents. So, instead of doors like Stan, Dipper's thoughts were hidden in letters and ink. She smiled, how appropriate.

She glanced at her watch out of habit, but sighed when she noticed the second hand only shivered in place. She should have known better than to rely on time in a place like the dreamscape. Regardless, she felt like it was being wasted as she mused over her brother's mind. It was time to find him.

There wouldn't be a map either, so she set off in a direction that felt right. The desks gave way to bookshelves, tall and stuffed with books. The spines bore titles such as Third Birthday, Mabel's First Crush, and The Bunker Episode. With the practice of three years of detective work, she noticed the pattern. All the books were personal memories. Family. Friends. School. Vacations. Goofy things she'd done. It was nice to know that, despite Dipper's scars, he never forgot his upbringing.

But all too soon, the bookshelves ended. Mabel stopped dead in her tracks as she saw what lay beyond.

Filing cabinets. As far as the eye could see.

It took her a few tries to get her feet moving again. As she went, she ran her hands over the cool, steel handles. The drawers were labeled in meticulously neat handwriting, but the system was numerical and unfamiliar. The only person who could guess what was catalogued in each file would be the author. Dipper.

She needed to find him. Not only to wake him, but because she needed answers.

What was this place supposed to be?

The filing cabinets weren't nearly as tall as the shelves. They stood about the same height as Mabel's head. Standing on her tippy-toes, she was able to peer over the vast space. She spotted a blue light glowing softly over to her right and set out to find the source.

This was certainly cracking up to be an interesting day.

It wasn't difficult to find Dipper. He was sitting with his back against a filing cabinet, knees drawn up to his chest, looking no different than when he was twelve years old. Complete with his marshmallow vest and pine tree hat. He was swiping through screens hovering in front of him, almost like an ipad interface. That had been the source of the light.

Mabel watched for a moment. The screens displayed a series of events she remembered but had never seen before. She realized it was Dipper's visualization of a scene from The Case of the Caper-Case Caper, part of The Sibling Brother series, right before that huge plot twist she'd never seen coming.

"That took me by surprise." She said simply as Dipper dismissed the screen, another taking its place.

"Yeah. Me too."

She hid her shock at his willingness to talk, especially about something so trivial.

"Can I ask a question?"

"Sure." He didn't look away from the screen.

"Am I talking to the right Dipper? Present day Dipper?" She fruitlessly checked her watch again, "Year 2025 Dipper?"

He chuckled, "Valid question."

She rolled her eyes.

He continued, "I imagine it's not your only one."

"Just answer."

"Yeah."

"Oh. Okay." Mabel put her back to the same filing cabinet and slid down to sit beside him. "Why do you look twelve then?"

He glanced over at her and smiled, "I'm not sure. It just happens. Imagine my surprise when I once showed up as a ninety year old man."

"I'll bet. What are you doing?"

"Just sorting through some old stuff."

"Books?"

He nodded.

"Why now?"

"I felt like it."

"You felt like sleeping for an eternity and going through crappy, old mystery novels?" She reached over and swiped through a few screens, "I've read all these. They're not that good. If you wanted better ones, you only had to ask. I could bring you some."

"I didn't know you read mystery novels." Dipper muttered, his brow crinkling.

"Duh, dork." She flicked his head, "I'm a detective. I had to start somewhere."

"Why do you get the cool job?" Dipper grouched, waving her hand away and crossing his arms – appropriately childish.

"Because."

He closed down the screen completely and leaned his head back on the file cabinet.

"Did you come here just to bother me?" He asked.

"No, stupid. I came to see what you were sulking about. But now I have a million more questions."

"Like?"

"Why does your dreamscape look so different from Grunkle Stan's? Why do you suddenly feel so chatty? Why aren't you and Pacifica Facebook official? That's just a start. I may think of more."

Dipper rolled his eyes, "Did that last one came up strictly because you visited the dreamscape?"

"No, it's been on my mind for a while."

Dipper pushed himself to his feet, brushing off his clothes even though Mabel couldn't see any dust. She followed suit, curious.

"To answer your questions in order. Everyone's dreamscape is different. Usually, there is a sort of default setting structured after a person's personality and experiences. My default was – surprise – a library. But I had to rearrange a little to make accommodations for… extra stuff."

"Can I look?" Mabel asked, hand on a drawer.

A shrug, "Sure. Right now, it should be fine."

The low hum of rollers filled the archive as the drawer slid open. It was stuffed full of vanilla folders, labeled with a seamless continuum of digits. She pulled one out and thumbed through the documents, giving them a cursory glance. The information wasn't cohesive. A spell. A physical theory. A long stream of historic events concerning the ancient Sumerian Empire.

"This doesn't make sense."

"Not to an outsider." Dipper argued, "It makes perfect sense to me."

"How so?"

"I may have lost track of time over the years. But everything I learned from Bill Cipher was added in chronological order of when I learned it. The file cabinets start near the bookshelves and spiral out from there. Unfortunately, the system can be inconvenient when I want to get to something and end up with more unrelated information than I wanted. For example," he pulled the file from Mabel's hands and flipped through it, "If I wanted to retrieve this spell from my memory," he pointed to a single line of text, "I'd end up getting all of this too." His finger trailed down an expanse of text below the spell that detailed the best way to flush grease out of kitchen pipes: chemicals, drain snakes, and plumbers.

"That sounds fun." Her voice indicated just now not fun that sounded.

"Yeah. It's kina unbalancing."

Mabel recalled how tittery and Bippery Dipper would get when did magic or helped Pacifica with an obscure social theory. It made a lot more sense now.

Dipper slid the file back into place as he continued to talk – more than Mabel had heard from him since they were thirteen, "As for why I'm so chatty, that goes along with file cabinets. You've heard of lucid dreaming, right?"

Mabel nodded, "It's where people can consciously control their dreams."

"Exactly." Dipper explained, "I may not be a lucid dreamer, but when I'm in my dreamscape, the concept applies. I can control and localize my memories. But you know how when you're awake, things leap – unbidden – to your mind and no matter how much you try, they won't go away."

"Uh yeah, I can't get Shimmery Twinkleheat's catchphrase out of my head. It's been stuck in there since we were twelve!"

"'Because you believed'." Dipper quoted in a falsetto voice, "I remember that."

Mabel clapped her hands over her ears, "Ugh!"

"As I was saying," Dipper continued, "When I'm awake, I have the same problem, only about ten times worse considering the amount of memories I've accrued. I can't control it. Things get jumbled up, making it hard to think much less talk. It's easier to keep the lid on when I don't." He heaved a sigh and gestured to the archive, "Somehow, I've managed to store more information than what should be humanly possible in my brain. And all it does is screw with me."

"You know you can talk to me though." She said quietly.

Her brother shrugged, shot her a smile, and answered, "I know."

"You can talk to Pacifica too. Although, you two seem to have fun signing to each other. I mean, you basically talk behind my back right in front of me!"

"Geez, Mabel!" Dipper moaned, turning away and trotting off toward the library, "Do you ever give it a rest?"

"Nope!" Mabel chirped, following after him, "I know you guys are in loooove!"

She didn't miss how absent his denials were not how his ears tinged pink. It was extra goofy because he looked like he was twelve years old, not twenty-seven.

"To answer your last question. We're not Facebook official because I don't have an account."

"I can remedy that. I'll make you an account and manage your online couple shenanigans."

Dipper rolled his eyes.

They arrived back at the desks where Dipper preoccupied himself with a messy stack of papers.

"What are these?" Mabel nodded toward the paper strewn desks.

"Short-term memories." Dipper threw a few over his shoulder and they fluttered to the ground, "Some of this stuff doesn't automatically archive because there's already so much in my dreamscape. That's when I have to step in and deal with it."

Mabel plopped into a swivel chair, spinning childishly "Is that what you're going to do for the rest of the day?"

"Maybe." Dipper muttered without looking at her.

"Well I think that's boring. Ppbbt!" She blew a raspberry.

"What would you rather do?"

"I'd rather bust out of this place – the institution I mean – and go bowling with Pacifica."

Dipper narrowed his eyes, "You better not be setting me up."

"No, stupid. I want to go bowling too! Geez! Rude."

"Don't you have work?"

"If you're gonna play hooky, so am I." She stood and held out her hand to her brother, a playful smile on her lips, "Let's convince Pacifica to play hooky too. It'll be fun."

Dipper only eyed her hand for a few seconds before he caved. His small hand grabbed hers. His grin grew to match hers. His memory miseries pushed aside just as she'd planned.

"Let's do it."

When he squeezed her hand, they both woke.

Not long after that, the three of them – Mabel, Dipper, and Pacifica – were piled into Mabel's car on their way to the bowling alley. She knew she'd have a lot of work to deal with tomorrow, but she didn't regret this moment of peace with her brother and her best friend. Even if she did need to pretend to pout when Dipper signed something to Pacifica, probably at her expense, and made the blonde woman laugh in that way she did only around her closest friends. Even if she did stick her tongue out at her brother and complain about being the third wheel because there was no other way for her to cover up how she was squealing on the inside. Even if this wasn't the future she'd imagined, she didn't want to change it for anything.


The brief epilogue is a little explanation for those that were curious about Dipper's condition. I originally thought I might publish a series of short stories that took place after the events of Triangulation, but I don't think I have time for that in my busy life, currently. This short story takes place roughly six months after Dipper's prosecution. I know very little about what rules apply to people like him, but for the sake of fluff, I've made his sentence rather light :) Please enjoy my little self-serving chapter (I know I did)! Thanks for reading.