Over Gravity
An OTGW and Gravity Falls Crossover
Disclaimer: I own almost none of these characters. They're only mine in my sweetest dreams.
Damn.
A/N: Five favorites, ten followers, and eight reviews?! Wow, I severely underestimated myself with this one! Thank you all so much! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!
As it turns out, later in the morning comes much more quickly than you're expecting when you spend the rest of the dawn passed out in bed while your much more energetic and wide eyed little brother spent that time eagerly checking up on you every hour or so.
With one eye creaked open, he squinted through the brightness of the blinding light and groaned quietly to himself once he saw Greg standing in his doorway, already dressed up for the day.
"Come on, captain! The enemies are on the horizon!"
With a hiss, he rolled over onto his side and nuzzled his face deeper into his mushy pillow. "Not now, Greg. I'm trying to sleep..."
"But mom told me to wake you up. She said you're sleeping through the day or something like that..."
Of course he would be the one to casually state news like that. There was a distinctly empty feeling in his stomach, but his tired eyes and pounding head screamed otherwise.
"Wake me up when the sky stops crying tears of ice on our hollow, shell-less sorrow..."
"What?"
"Leave me alone, Greg."
"But you promised..."
"Maybe later. I'm tired..."
There was a brief moment of sweet, miraculous, supple silence.
"Sara's here."
That sure did the trick because, in the span of thirty seconds, Wirt shot out of bed, kicked his sheets around for a bit, ripped off his pajamas, threw on a pair of slim dark jeans and a red wool sweater, and raced downstairs to see his parents sitting on the couch, each holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
His eyes darted around, searching for one particular person. "Sara?"
He watched his mother as she gave Jonathan an 'I told you so' look before flashing her son her sickeningly sweetest smile. Wirt felt something in the pit of his stomach churn once he caught sight of her holding out a plate of fresh waffles, complete with whipped cream and a bright red cherry.
"She's using the bathroom, honey. We were able to spare you some waffles, although Greg claims to be full."
From the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of his little stepbrother leaning over the stair rail, staring dead at the plate with dangerously large eyes and drool slowly forming a swirling pool in the wonderful cave that was his mouth.
"Uh, th-that's nice, mom, but I think I'm just going to sk-skip breakfast today," he muttered, nervous of her reaction. He hoped that none of his family, or friends for that matter, didn't notice his irregular eating schedule by now. He had always had a problem when it came to food, never being able to finish even the smallest proportions, but now it was getting bad. Every time he tried to eat, he felt sick. He had to always fight down the urge to puke after just one measly bite of a meal, although he'd try and hide it when others were watching.
But his mother gave him a look of concern and he paled, a lump forming in his throat. "But you've already missed breakfast! You've got to be at least a little hungry!"
He smiled, hoping to the highest that it was enough; he was terrible when it came to lying. "M-mom, I swear," he winced when he heard his voice crack. So much for confidence.
He cleared his throat. "Mom...I swear, it's f-fine! I'm...I'm not that hungry anyway..."
Greg watched this scene in surprise, his mouth hanging open. Wirt—his Wirt—the brother he's known his entire life, rejecting waffles? No! This wasn't possible! Some evil science jerk must've broken in last night and replaced him with a robotic drone because this was madness!
Their mother and Jonathan exchanged uncertain looks but they seemed to buy the excuse anyway, or at least they pretended to.
"Well...okay, if you insist. I'm still putting these in the fridge just in case you still want..."
Wirt heard his mother's voice trail off into simple echoes bouncing on the walls around him and the blurriness of morning suddenly became a lot more clear.
Because, right at that very coincidentally timed moment, Sara entered the room.
She looked at him, with those beautiful brown eyes, and smiled.
"Hey Wirt! We were just waiting for you!"
The teen felt his face flush at the happiness present in her voice. Sara happy to see him? It was as if this was a dream come true.
But alas, the rest of reality was quick to put this dream on a record screeching halt.
"Well, heh heh, I uh...d-did you just say 'we'?"
She shrugged, nudging her slightly frizzy dark hair over her shoulder in the process. "Well, Greg told me you wanted a few more players..."
Wirt shot an irritated glare at Greg, who only happily beamed in response.
"Is that okay?"
Looking back at her, he forced a sweet smile but his disappointment put it to a slight hold. "Y-yeah, that's uh...yeah, that's fine. Perfectly fine. So, uh, who's h-here?"
Sara shrugged, a soft smile of her face. "Just Kathleen, Rhondi, Jason...you know, our group."
Wirt would've shown signs of annoyance at the mention of Funderberker, but he instead blushed and stared down at the floor so she would've notice. She was still smiling that beautiful, beautiful smile of her's.
"O-our group?"
He heard her chuckle, his face beat red.
"Of course. We're all friends right?"
Swallowing hard, he looked up at her with a blank expression before it soon morphed into a small, yet forced, smile to match her's. He wished he could read her mind, so he would know. He needed to know if she knew yet; her friends knew, Funderberker knew, his mother and Jonathan knew, even Greg knew! But did she?
"R-right..."
Her head tilted to the side and she blinked with her mouth in a firm straight line, clearly confused. "Are you okay? You're stuttering a lot."
His blush deepened but he tried to play it off as cool as he could, ignoring his parents' chuckling. Even Sara showed slight amusement at his embarrassed face.
"I-I know...I do it a l-lot..."
She chuckled, a laugh as beautiful as spring bells ringing on Sunday.
"You coming?"
Wirt glanced up at her, staring in amazement as rays of light from the window shined on her, adding an extra shine to her dark hair and eyes.
So, so beautiful.
He straightened his back out, stood tall, and cleared his throat. No time for lack of confidence now.
"Yeah...I'm coming..."
He followed her out the door, the happiest he's been in his house in a long while as he threw on his furry winter coat. Brightness evaded his vision and he squinted through snowflakes pelting his warm face as he stumbled around. He could hear Kathleen's slightly flirty voice calling out to him and Funderberker stuttering out his hellos, but the only thing he was aware of was Sara calling out for him, what she was saying exactly was incomprehensible, the cold turning him into a shivering mess, and the ground suddenly turning very slippery.
For a moment, he saw a flash of something dark and ugly, staring right at him with ugly white eyes.
But, thankfully, his vision cleared and he was suddenly aware of Sara standing in front of him, a look of pure panic on her face and slim arms tightly holding him in place.
"Wh-what h-h-happened?" His stuttered, looking around at his blurry surroundings, shivering uncontrollably. When has he ever been so cold.
"You slipped on ice on the stairs. Thank god Jason caught you before you hurt yourself though. You could've hit your head or worse!"
"Yeah, you gotta be careful out here Wirt. There's ice everywhere," Kathleen added, specifically avoiding his gaze by instead looking around at the surrounding area, although there were still notable hints of concern in her voice,"in fact, let's go somewhere else, before he breaks his neck or something..."
"You looked real dazed there, Wirt. I almost thought you did hit you're head and we just didn't see it!" Rhondi laughed, playing with her bright red hair innocently. Everyone in turn gave her a glare.
"Not funny, Rhon," Kathleen sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Sorry."
Sara rolled her eyes, glancing back at Wirt with visible concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Wirt groaned and rubbed his head, which was starting to pound for some strange reason. Well, he was still tired but that was a given, as was the empty feeling in his stomach. Still, he tried to shrug it off and walked away, but that last part was rather difficult thanks to Funderberker's bone-crushing, and unwanted, hug from behind.
"Ugh...I'm-I'm pretty sure I'm (Jason, you can let go of me now) fine."
She sighed in relief, running a hand through her hair. "Well, that's a relief. I really don't want to have a repeat of...n-nevermind, let's just catch up with Kath and Rhon..."
Wirt roughly shoved Funderberker's arms off and walked with her, shoving his ice cold hands in his coat pocket and pretending he didn't see that horned silhouette staring at him in the woods near his house.
"Y-yeah let's...let's do that..."
Back in the house, Wirt and Greg's mother watched as her eldest son walked into the fog with the rest of his little friends. She was happy that he was finally outside for a non-school related subject, but that only made her nerves about him accidentally hurting himself all the more prominent.
He was never the same since that night and neither was she, becoming more protective of her children and aware of where they were going or who they were hanging out with. She never wanted to ever see them in the hospital in critical condition again, dangerously close to hypothermia.
She turned and watched Greg, watching him play on the floor in the living room with his frog, Jason Funderburker. Chuckling, she found herself glancing out the window just for a second just out of concern. It was cute for Wirt to name his brother's frog after one of his friends, but taking the full name made things more confusing when that boy actually was in the house.
"Greg?"
He looked up at her, with a happy smile and those large innocent eyes. "Yeah?"
"Go...go outside and play. I can't imagine how excited you are to make a snowman and I'm sure Wirt and his friends would enjoy your company..."
He jumped up, hugging Frog Funderburker to his chest as he saluted. "Aye aye, lady mom! Are you and shipmate dad coming as well?"
She chuckled, it was pretty hard to pinpoint when exactly Greg got so obsessed with pirates but no one could complain; he was always the imaginative one, making the most out of very mundane situations.
"We will in a minute. You're dad and I have to talk about something real quick-"
"We do?" Came a muffled voice from the kitchen.
"-But we won't take long, I promise. Now go along, you don't want to lose your brother."
Greg giggled his innocent little giggle and ran over to his mother, hugging her legs enthusiastically. "Yes ma'am!"
His mother chuckled and lightly petted her little ball of sunshine's soft brown locks before helping him get his coat off the rack. She kneeled down and helped him bundle up before sending him off with a soft kiss on the forehead, not noticing him eagerly pushing Frog Jason outside for the ride.
"Avoid any places that are shiny and slippery, okay?" She called from the door, sighing in relief when she heard a yes ma'am in the distance. She slowly pushed the door closed and leaned against for a few seconds, breathing heavily, before turning around to face Jonathan, who was chewing on one of Wirt's still warm waffles.
"So what is this thing that you and I have to, quote on quote, 'talk about' exactly? You know it's dangerous to send Gregory out there without adult supervision! Geez, and I thought I was the careless parent!"
"You still are," she sighed and pushing her dark hair out of her face, "but that's beside the point. The only reason I sent him out was because I just...I didn't want him to hear..."
"Annnd you couldn't just send him to his room for that?"
"There's a chance he could still overhear us, John," she sighed, wringing her hands together, "it's about Wirt."
"Sheil," he sighed, pausing from taking another bite of a waffle, "we've talked about this before-"
"I don't care! I just saw him almost kill himself-again! I can't stand this, John! Every time I see him, he looks scared and alone. I don't want to see that! I want to see my bright-eyed little boy again..."
"Well, Sheila, you have to realize that for the longest time, Walter's always been a little moody."
"Yeah, he's a little moody when he's being his normal melodramatic self, but this-whatever's going on with him-isn't just a 'little moody'. I can see it, John, I can see it in his eyes! Can't you?"
"Come to think of it, he's being quieter than usual but then again, it could all be just a phase."
"A phase?! You believe my little boy surviving from nearly being hit by a train and almost drowning is just a PHASE?!"
"Whoa! Hey! Hey! Calm down! I didn't mean it like that, you know that, and besides, it wasn't just Wirt; Greg was in that accident too. I could've lost my sons that night too..."
"I know, John. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..." She sniffled, biting down on her lip. "I-it's just we...we came so close a-and...and I...if I lost him-both of them I would...I-I would...I wouldn't be able to live with myself!"
Jonathan set the plate of waffles down on the coffee table and enveloped his distraught wife in a hug, gently rubbing her back and shoulder blades with tender strokes.
"I know, Sheila. I completely understand what you're going through right now. Wirt's my son too and, while we might not exactly get along all that well, I still care about him and his safety, as well as Gregory's."
"I-I was always afraid this was gonna h-happen, John! Ever s-since Peter left, I al-always feared the d-day I would see him l-like this. He was eight b-back then, John! Eight years old! An-and I was the one t-to sit him down and t-tell him that...that daddy's not coming back! He was t-too young to know ab-about that kind of st-stuff! Then y-you came along an-and we g-got married and w-we had Gregory and I th-thought everything was gonna be fine! B-but then he became distant, always locking himself in his room and sneaking o-off! I was s-so worried something was gonna happen every time that h-happened! Then on Halloween, he snuck off again and...and he...oh god..."
"He's a teenager now, Sheila. He has friends, he has a social life, he has his own personal goals. Don't tell me you never snuck around a few times when you were fifteen."
"That's beside the point, John! I heard him throwing up a last Thursday!"
"Well, let's face it dear, you're medium rare isn't exactly up to quality-"
"He didn't eat any steak that night! He only ate the potatoes, and he loves potatoes, so I don't understand why he would just-"
"Maybe he was just sick."
"He would've told us if he wasn't feeling well, I know that!"
"Well then why else would he do that?"
"I spoke with his psychiatrist yesterday," Sheila sighed, feeling her eyes start to water again.
"And?"
"He thinks it's possible for Wirt to have PTSD."
There was a lengthy pause as Jonathan took this newfound information and processed it, slow and steady.
"...PTSD?"
"Yes..."
"PTSD as in...post-traumatic-stress-disorder PTSD?"
"There's only one kind of PTSD, John."
"Wh-what?"
"It was the incident on Halloween, John. It really shook him up. He's having nightmares—terrible ones. The man told me about how Wirt's explained some of the things he's seen, both in his dreams and apparently real life. Real life. Oh my god, my baby's hallucinating..."
"What are these dreams about?"
"Most of them are about ether him or Greg getting lost and turning into a tree, slowly, while their still alive in excruciating detail! I-I don't even want to think about this..."
Jonathan held his wife tenderly, stroking and lightly kissing her soft hair.
"Is there anything else?"
Sheila looked up at him, sniffling and rubbing her eyes that shined with tears.
"Well," she bit down on her lip, looking around nervously, "he did say some about a...a..."
"A what, Sheila? What did he say?"
She swallowed hard, wringing her hands together again.
"He's always talking about a beast..."
Elsewhere, in the beautiful fields of delicate white powder, Wirt, Greg, and Sara built a snowman, laughing, chatting, and being generally happy together, while Kathleen and Rhondi made snow angels and chatted like close friends usually do and Jason Funderberker tried to talk to a pretty woman and actually get her to laugh in a nice way, not just out of pity like the rest of the girls at their school.
But they failed to notice the single eye buried in the trunks of the both narrow and thick trees, watching them closely.
