Chapter Two: Something Lost

Stanford didn't think he was very observant when it came to reading other people's emotions, or how they felt. That was one of his weak points. He just never really did wrap his mind around how other people could be feeling. Take Stanley, for example. Somehow, he hadn't noticed how much Stanley had been hurting inside for years, even though the signs were there. So, in short, Stanford wasn't very good at reading a person's expressions. That was more of Mabel's department.

However, he found while Stan and Mabel didn't seem to notice anything wrong, Ford did. It wasn't something wrong like something around them was dangerous, no, it was that he felt a pricking sensation inside of him as he realized that something was wrong with Dipper. He wasn't completely sure, but he thought there was something strange about Dipper's behavior.

To start, there was just how sleep-deprived he looked. This at first didn't worry Ford much; he though perhaps maybe he just couldn't sleep, much like Ford couldn't at times. But no, Dipper looked like he hadn't slept hardly at all for weeks. Dare he say months? Ford could see Dipper was trying to hide that fact, trying to blink the tiredness out of his eyes and denying being tired if anyone brought it up, and Ford was just confused. Why was Dipper hiding it?

And then there was how he moved. Maybe it was because Ford had learned to pay close attention to small details, but whatever the reason, he noticed that Dipper's movements were just a little off. Slower than usual, almost cautious. Like he was afraid to move, and Ford didn't have the slightest idea as to why. He found, as the day went on, he focused on Dipper's expression when he did move; strained and hesitant, and Ford would go as far as to say fearful. Adding onto the caution as he did, Dipper's movements were a little shaky, like his entire boy was shivering slightly when he did.

Finally, there was his smile. It wasn't the genuine smile of enthusiasm he had seen the summer before. This one seemed forced, like Dipper was making himself wear it. Ford could see it faltering occasionally, but Dipper would always try and hide the fact that it was, as well as hide the unease he saw in the kid's eyes. But there was something else in his eyes...

Pain...

That was one thing Ford was sure of. That Dipper was in pain. He winced when anybody touched him or when he touched something, like any touch at all would hurt him. And whenever Ford looked, he was either leaning against something, sitting down, or, rarely, standing with his legs shaking, as if he was fighting to stand. Ford could hear Dipper's quiet groans of pain that he released under his breath when he thought nobody was listening, and Ford could hear his half-stifled hisses of pain. Worry drove through Ford like a stake, because he could see that Dipper was trying to hide all of it.

He was trying to hide the fact that he was severely in pain, and this just enlarged Ford's concern, because he could not think of a single reason why Dipper would want, or need, to hide it.

And so, as the day drew to a close and the younger twins were preparing to go to sleep -though Ford doubted Dipper would- he decided to confront Dipper about this, to see if he could confirm his suspicions. He met Dipper in the hallway, Ford with a serious expression on his face, and Dipper with one that just seemed... tired.

"Dipper," Ford started slowly, trying to choose his words carefully, "are you okay?"

He thought he saw Dipper stiffen at his question, his muscles tensing. "What do you mean?" he asked, his tone reticent.

Ford crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm just wondering," he said simply, trying to pretend like he hadn't noticed Dipper's behavior throughout the day. "It's been a long time since I've seen you, you know." Dipper scanned him with a weary gaze, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm fine," he muttered, before averting his gaze. Ford's concern grew even larger at Dipper's guarded response.

"Are you sure? You look... tired." Now, that was an understatement. Dipper subconsciously rubbed his arm, his gaze still avoiding Ford's.

"I-it's nothing," he stammered, wincing with what Ford believed to be pain, before leaning more heavily on the wall he had already been leaning on. He closed his eyes for a moment, shook his head, and turned around without another word. Ford didn't bother calling him back. But he did feel his worry growing.

Maybe I should tell Stanley, he thought.

Dipper bit down on his lower-lip, trying not to release a cry of agony as another wave of pain crashed over him. He didn't want to awaken Mabel, who was sleeping soundly in the bed across the room. As the pain subsided to an extent, he released a quiet sigh. His gaze drifted to the alarm-clock by the window. It was near 4:00. Dipper rolled over onto his back, his arms and legs splayed out and his entire body feeling like it was on fire. He shut his eyelids, willing the pain to go away.

It never did, and even though he knew it was hopeless to wish, he still did anyways. He opened his eyes, but only to slits, his chest rising and falling as he drew in rapid breaths. Dipper glanced at Mabel, who was sleeping peacefully. Her pig, Waddles, was curled up by the bedside, letting out quiet snorts in his slumber. A part of Dipper envied them, how they could just fall asleep that easily. And yet, a larger part of him didn't actually want to go to sleep. While he knew he needed to sleep, for some reason the pain inside of him was stronger when he did.

He didn't want it to be stronger than it already was.

Dipper, with a huff of restlessness, pushed off of his mattress. He slid off of his bed and onto the ground, wincing slightly as a small wave of pain washed over him for a moment. Avoiding the loose, creaking floorboards, he drew himself towards the door. He took a final glance behind him to make sure Mabel was still asleep, before exiting the room.

He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding as he closed the door behind him. Dipper could feel his limbs shaking slightly as he made his way down the shadowed hallway. His vision was glazed over from lack of sleep, and if he focused on a shadow long enough it would look like it was moving. He shook his head to himself. He was just imagining it.

Quietly, he crept down the stairs to the lower-level of the shack. He didn't know exactly where he was going, just that he didn't want to be laying around doing nothing. As much as moving around pained him, he would occasionally become too restless to just sit and do nothing, deciding instead to subject himself to this pain of moving.

Dipper chuckled darkly to himself at that. He wished with all his heart that the pain would leave him, yet at the same time, he'd rather take that pain over other things that were better? That has to be an oxymoron... he thought to himself.

He realized that he had subconsciously arrived in the gift-shop. It was mostly dark, still shaded with the remnants of the night, now until dawn was pulled up from the horizon. Dipper scanned the room with tired eyes, not quite sure why he had brought himself here.

Dipper's gaze wandered to the vending-machine near the wall. He was reminded of his encounter with Ford hours ago. He had hated the churning feeling of guilt he had felt when he was lying to Ford; he could see through Ford's words and Dipper knew that he knew Dipper wasn't alright, even if Dipper hated to admit it. He asked himself why he felt guilty about lying about it all, when nothing was forcing him to lie to Ford. He could've easily told him the truth, but he didn't.

Dipper still couldn't really wrap his head around why he was trying to hide the fact that he wasn't okay. Nothing was stopping him, and yet...

He released a puff of breath and tore his gaze away from the vending-machine, his guilt returning. He hated all of this. He hated the constant pain, he hated his struggle to move, he hated making himself lie to everyone, and, at that moment, he kind of hated himself.

The swirling thoughts in his mind did nothing to help the pain in himself. In fact, it was making it worse. Dipper stumbled backwards into a nearby wall as a torrent of agony crashed down upon him, so strong that he was forced to his knees. And though he resisted the urge to cry out, to scream, he couldn't stop himself from emitting a long moan. He clutched his head with one hand and wrapped his other arm around his waist.

And then, he was overtaken by an agony he had never felt before ever in his life, worse than any he had ever felt before, it seemed.

To him, it felt like he was feeling every type of pain at once. He could feel a sharp pain that tore through his chest like a knife. He could feel a burning pain that flooded his nerves and seemed to sear his veins. He felt like his entire form was being ripped apart and torn, before being put back together with a piece missing each time, like with each passing second he was losing something, but he didn't know what.

He shuddered with his affliction as the ripping sensation continued. Everything felt like he was being torn apart from the inside, mostly near his head, and he kept feeling like he was losing something each time. And he was losing something, he was slowly losing something as it slipped from his grasp, torn away from him as the pain exploded inside of him. He forced away the temptation and urge to scream as all the pain went on until nearly five-thirty in the morning.

Dipper didn't know it, and he wouldn't for a while, but he had lost something very important that night. With the sun beginning to rise over the horizon, he could feel a cold numbness settle over his heart, and even if he tried to remove it, it wouldn't leave. He couldn't find it in him to care. Literally, he couldn't care. And he didn't know it, but with every second, that feeling was spreading, that feeling of just... not caring.

And with that feeling gained, he lost another. He lost that sense that everyone had, but some could not hold onto. He lost the sense of warmth for someone, for everyone, really. He lost part of the light inside, the light that would usually guide yourself and others through shadows of the mind.

I guess, if you could put it in other words, you could say that on that night, Dipper had lost a bit of his humanity.

Author's Note: Sorry if the ending to this chapter was a bit rushed. Anyways, I'm wondering what you people think might be wrong with Dipper. I'd honestly like to see if anyone figures out what's happening, even if I didn't make it clear, like, at all. Which, I mean, is kind of the point...

I think the next chapter will be relatively calm in terms of what's happening, but the one after that will probably be the chapter when things start going really downhill for the Pines family.