As the time passed, the shuffling of cards that had begun as whispering background noise was now an irritating drone. Gideon seemed most bothered, a perturbed expression on his face, and after a while got up and went to the kitchen where he grabbed the book from his small bag to read.
Watching Gideon leave the room, Dipper nudged Norman with his elbow and whispered he would be back. He got up and went to the kitchen, quiet as he walked up to Gideon. Dipper took note of the book with a sense of surprise before joining him at the table.
"I'm surprised you read." Dipper quipped, earning an eye roll from Gideon.
"Yes, I read literature. As opposed to what you likely read, Pines- UFO magazines and tabloids, no doubt."
"I don't, actually," Dipper scoffed, "though you of all people should believe in that stuff too, with all you've seen."
"I'm still not entirely convinced my entire life is merely a dead man's imagination." Gideon had glassy eyes, staring at the pages dully, as though he was millions of miles away.
"Morbid. But, given the circumstances, I'll give you a pass." Dipper muttered, "How are you doing?"
"What?" Gideon asked, as though he'd hallucinated. Did he detect genuine concern in Dipper's voice?
"How are you? With everything going on?" Dipper asked.
"Fine, I guess." Gideon lied, but his angry expression fell to fear. "No... actually, I'm not fine. Pacifica is dead. Her body- she... she was right there, the whole time.
"Why didn't I know? Did he possess me to do that too? Could I have prevented that? My head is swimming- not to mention all the madness over here with gods mingling around like we're at a dang cocktail party.
"Then, of course, once this all blows over- if we're all still alive by the end of it- what will I do? I'm still a minor. No one in this town likes me, I won't get hired by anyone! Believe me, I tried-"
"Gideon," Dipper sighed, choosing his words carefully. "The fact you're guilty about the idea of even being involved is enough. You didn't want her dead. I'm sure you brought her some peace, letting her parents know so they can properly bury her."
"Honestly, I loved my hut, it was the first thing I had that really felt like it was mine..." Gideon whispered, his voice cracking. He pinched his nose with his fingers, exhaling sharply. He did not want to get emotional, not here.
Gideon looked back at Dipper, eyes red as he bit back tears, "But I could never go over there again, not after seeing her there. I hope they tear it down, now. Poor Pass, she thought everything was going well for her. She was getting good enough prospects that she dropped out of school and was ready to make good money starting at someplace out of town, but then she turns up dead. She had a bright future ahead of her, unlike the rest of us stuck in the Falls. She was my only friend-"
"It had nothing to do with you," Dipper insisted. "Plus, minor or not, I am sure someone in town would hire you. They could always put you on an overnight shift, worst case. You get more money that way too. Don't worry about it yet, let's get past this first."
Gideon nodded, more to himself than anything, and thanked Dipper half-heartedly before immersing himself back in the book. Dipper returned to the main area and sat next to Norman, leaning against the boy's side.
Dipper wondered how things had been for Gideon without his folks around- at least his parents were around, even if they weren't always there for the two of them. Gideon probably quit school as soon as he could, based on his isolation in that cabin and how they left things post-Bill. Maybe the Northwests gave him a paycheck, but he doubted they would treat him like a son- they rarely gave their own daughter the luxury.
Dipper saw some of himself in Gideon and hated it, he saw a little bit of himself in everyone, but with Gideon, they both shared the specific trauma of possession by Bill Cipher. The clutchings of wisps of ultimate power, to feel invincible, untouchable, and the moral dealings pull at the reigns- the "right thing" being to relinquish this power, being weak and powerless again just to have back your self-control. His eyes wandered to the front window and stared, where Norman said he had seen Pacifica.
Suddenly, Coraline visibly went stiff. Mabel's gaze formerly being at what Coraline had been doing with the cards, then her view drifting up to the girl's face. She crawled on the carpeted floor on her knees, putting hands on each side of Coraline's face as she looked into her eyes.
The white irises and pupils, a blip in a sea of the black sclera, seemed to disappear as the black swallowed them whole. It looked as though ink was dyeing her white irises, like smoke or fog peeking behind the black. She looked straight on into nothing, and couldn't see anything around her, her eyes blinked sporadically, despite this.
Mabel's voice shook as she turned to her brother and Norman, "Her eyes look empty. The white's all gone."
The two scrambled over as well, Norman unlatching Mabel's hands from Coraline to get a good look, "Easy. Her eyes just look foggy. They're all one color but her eyelids are twitching, so she's responsive, right? Maybe she's having a vision, we shouldn't interrupt."
Mabel agreed, but foggy wasn't the right word. It was like a dead person's eyes, no shine or life in them, like black gunk on the surface of a pond. She stood and paced, wringing her hands, terrified for her friend.
Norman pretended to be calm, Dipper stayed quiet, and Gideon was oblivious.
Coraline could see things in flashes, like an old videotape on fast-forward, skipping around very quickly. With only a quiet and ambient hum to listen to, she couldn't seem to make heads or tails of any of it.
Claws.
Gashes.
A hulking mass on four legs.
Blood in the grass.
A figure standing in the rain.
A body face down and unmoving.
Flashing red lights.
Blackness so thick it was like swimming in tar.
She gasped for air, the dull and swirling blackness dissipating from her eyes and awareness returning, eyes darting to the three watching her with concern and Gideon, the fourth, trying to look unconcerned as his eyes peered over the edge of his book. Coraline tried to piece together the flashes she saw but they were so fast she couldn't see any faces, let alone tell what time of day it was. She subconsciously felt her eyes wandering to the stairs, wanting to lean on Wybie like she always had, but feared what she saw would really happen if she spoke it aloud.
Dipper's hands, clutching her arms tightened as he tried getting her attention again, "Coraline? Are you okay? What did you see?"
"No idea," Coraline muttered in a daze. "Too quick to see."
"Well, you were out of it a solid five minutes, we were starting to worry." Norman chuckled flatly, then gave Dipper a look, who let go of her arms with a whispered apology.
"I'm okay, thank you." Coraline smiled weakly.
"Any idea where he is?" Mabel barely got it out, too upset to say his name- Bill's name, Xolotl's name, the name of their impending doom.
Coraline shook her head, still reeling, trying to grasp and reimagine what she had seen in hopes to make sense of it.
"Why don't you go wake Wybie up? He should be taking guard soon." Mabel smiled, the expression not quite reaching her eyes, hoping that Wybie could assure her in a way they couldn't.
Moreso, though, she hoped Wybie could weasel the memory from Coraline of what she saw. She was growing attached to Coraline, but her fear of what could happen to all of them was teetering towards her biggest priority over her friend's wellbeing. She hated the selfishness of that feeling.
Coraline nodded and left the group, going upstairs.
Mabel began chewing on her thumbnail and upon accidentally making eye contact with Gideon, who watched the exchange from the other room, she yanked the thumb away from her teeth and crossed her arms.
"Eyes back on your book, Gleeful, you started this mess." Mabel hissed.
"Now is not the time," Dipper snapped, "The last thing we need is to fall apart right now, we're in the last legs-"
"We're on our last legs!" Mabel yelled at her brother, pointing an accusing finger at Gideon. "This brat is why! How convenient he can't remember where he is!"
"Might I remind you-" Gideon began, defensively, setting his book down.
"Shut up, Gideon!" Mabel snapped, suddenly reminding her twin of a much younger and less mature version of herself. "You should've stayed in jail, maybe then they wouldn't all be-"
"Mabel!" Dipper yelled at the top of his lungs, enough to startle his sister into silence. Her eyes naturally watered at the sound, but she blinked it away.
Dipper's voice lowered in volume, Wirt silently stepping out from his room a few paces away to see what the commotion was. "It's not his fault. He's a victim here, too. Or was the stuff I did back then my fault too?"
"It happened twice," Mabel reminded bitterly with a pointed finger still aimed at Gideon, her narrowed eyes never leaving Gideon, who was shrinking in his seat by the minute.
"We weren't around," Dipper tried, "remember? It could've been me again too. Gideon and I-" Dipper exhaled, closing his eyes as though the following words would physically pain him. "We're a lot alike, you know? We're stuck. No friends, dealing with this stuff no one understands, resented- Mabel, I have you and you're a great sister, but he doesn't have anyone anymore. Back off, okay?"
Gideon looked away, closing the book and laying his cheek on the table, he felt awful enough thinking it- but hearing someone else say it aloud hurt more. He really was alone, especially now that the Northwests refused to let him in their sight.
Something finally seemed to click in Mabel's expression and she nodded, looking over at Gideon with a defeated expression, "I'm sorry. Forget I said anything."
"Don't worry about it, Mabel," Gideon muttered, not meeting her eyes, "I blame myself too."
Mabel barely caught his words but understood nonetheless. Wirt cleared his throat and with a weary expression, proclaimed he was making homemade soup for everyone and insisted the group of them all help somehow.
There was no void felt for Coraline, who was closed up in the upstairs bathroom. She sat on the floor with her knees pulled to her chest and head against the wall as she closed her eyes and tried to piece it all together.
She didn't want to wake Wybie again and took out her cards to see if she could inspire another vision. She held the stacked deck to her forehead as though hoping to see with a third eye or X-ray vision. She pulled breaths in and let them out in calculated intervals, trying to empty her thoughts.
Wirt pulled ingredients from the fridge handfuls at a time, setting the many vegetables and ingredients on the counter in droves. When Norman went to reach for a cucumber, Wirt slapped his hand and admonished "Wash your hands first. All of you. You too, Gideon, you're part of the club too, now. Boys, go get Greg too, he would get mad if we started without him. "
Dipper and Norman split off to wash their hands in the bathroom while Mabel debated whether or not to share the kitchen sink with Gideon or simply wait until Norman and her brother left the bathroom. The decision was made for her when Wirt gave her a pointed look and a frown.
She walked slowly as she could manage to eventually stand beside Gideon as he made a show of washing his hands. The water was uncomfortably hot and he was adamantly cleaning between his fingers, under his nails, special care to the back of his hands as well as his palms. When he noticed Mabel beside him he stepped back with an embarrassed expression, wiping his hands on a dishtowel nearby.
"Sorry, a habit from my job. Always took forever to clean up after working in the dirt." Gideon explained, handing the drying rag to her as she finished up.
She took it and watched her hands as she dried them, "You sure apologize a lot more than you used to."
"Working for people like the Northwests," he said with a hint of fondness, rinsing off some of the vegetables. "It has a way of reminding you of your manners."
"How were they?" Mabel asked, generally curious, as she began taking the vegetables from his hands to set on the cutting board beside her.
"Strict," Gideon answered quickly, then thought about it before continuing. "My mom, I don't know if you remember much of her, she was such a submissive person that anything my dad decided... she would just grin and bear it. Until she left, anyway.
"My dad's, well, obviously not around anymore. The Northwests were troubled... but extraordinary." Gideon let slip an admirable smile, "They took me in, after everything that happened. They showed up at my door, when I was about to be escorted by the sheriffs to wherever I would go next, all they said was-
"Mr. Northwest said 'Can you work?', I said yes.
"Mrs. Northwest looked around and just stated, 'Think you can do things on your own, live alone, if we paid you?'- they didn't want another child, they didn't adopt me, obviously. They just wanted cheap labor, but they kept that roof over my head and they would take turns asking if I was eating, or if I needed anything. They were good to me."
Before Mabel could comment, the three boys walked in and crammed aside them. The six of them were designated jobs around the kitchen to make dinner- ranging anywhere from chopping to peeling to measuring ingredients. Wirt insisted, as he assigned them each task, it would make the process take a fraction of the time.
"Are we feeding an army?" Norman joked, pulling kale apart for cutting.
"Practically," Wirt smiled, "Full house with all of you around. We have, what, eight of us now? Assuming you don't bring any other mouths to feed home with you, eh, Norman?"
Norman blushed to himself but chuckled nonetheless, "Sorry about that. Imposing and all."
"It's nice," Greg beamed, "You guys are much more fun than strangers, they ignore us."
"A side-effect of the changing times," Wirt shrugged, measuring out spices by sight. "Even at a bed and breakfast, they don't want the hosts to be seen or heard."
"Bummer," Dipper piped up, "Have you tried doing the Air BnB thing? Like, getting on there?"
"You would probably have more customers, and you can set cost limits." Mabel supplied.
"I can barely keep up as is," Wirt admitted, "Summer is a mess of lodgers but the rest of the time it's pretty slow. I'll look into it, maybe Greg can show me."
"We've got a secret boomer on our hands," Norman whispered conspiratorially to Dipper, who feigned a sneeze to cover a laugh.
"Greg, can you set the dining room up?" Wirt asked, humming to himself.
"You have a dining room?" Mabel asked, confused. "Then why have we been eating at the kitchen table this whole time?"
"It's easier," Greg supplied, loading his arms up with dishes to carry in the other room. "Less mess, was cramped before, but too many people now."
"I finished," Norman smiled, taking the teetering pile of plates from his younger cousin's arms, who replaced it with an easier-to-manage bunch of silverware. "I'll help you out. You can tell me where all the silverware goes."
The two left the kitchen to a corridor off the back of the living room, going to the dining room.
Mabel, dicing her tomatoes, got slightly too overzealous and gave herself a small cut on her finger. She cursed under her breath and excused herself to the bathroom, Dipper nearly leaped to follow, but Gideon soon followed with the assurance he would make sure she treated the wound properly.
So, Dipper and Wirt were the only ones who remained in the kitchen. Dipper watched Wirt with interest, his thoughts turning to Wendy again, what did they see in each other? The two seemed so different.
"Wirt?" Dipper nearly choked on the word, the conversation starter spilling from his own lips before he was even really ready.
"Hmm?" Wirt took a piece of taffy from his pocket and chewed it as he moved on to cutting an onion, a trick to keep his eyes from watering.
"So, how long have you and Wendy been... together?" Dipper had meant to sound nonchalant but came off as what he feared- prying.
"On and off for about 2 years. I guess you heard our conversation earlier." Wirt seemed unbothered by the question, a smile creeping on his face. "It's sweet you still care about her. She told me you used to have a thing for her."
"Yeah," Dipper admitted, floundering. "She's talked about me?"
"Of course she has." Wirt supplied, adding the different parts of everyone's cooking contributions together. "You two mean a lot to her. You're like her second set of siblings."
"Oh man, if I heard that back then, that would have been a deep wound." Dipper joked, "She was one of my first real crushes, you know? I turned so stupid anytime she was around, like I lost half my brain cells."
"Hopefully you've outgrown that quality," Wirt chuckled. "I haven't. Even now, I still can't help but act like an idiot around her."
"What do you like about her?" Dipper asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. "What's it like to really know her?"
"She's an open book," Wirt sighed contentedly, putting the soup on the stove. He leaned against the counter, looking over at Dipper. "She doesn't hide much of herself. It's the little things, though, that made me fall in love with her."
"Like what?" Dipper asked, smiling.
"Well..." Wirt inhaled and closed his eyes in thought, "She can never seem to remember the right words to songs but sings at the top of her lungs anyway. She hates cooking, she would do takeout every night if she could, but she appreciates my cooking enough not to. She wants to do a cross-country van trip one day, but she refuses to see anything she considers a tourist trap- which I argue is half the fun.
"She's easy to buy things for, and when we go shopping it never takes more than an hour, no matter what, she knows what she wants and doesn't want to linger. She has really good self-control, but mostly because she's just a little too lazy to adhere to her own whims. She hates the freckles on her shoulders and the backs of her hands, even though they're beautiful.
"She hates commitment unless she's thought of every possible outcome first, good or bad. She hates black and white movies but watches them with me because she knows I enjoy them. More than anything, I like how she snorts if you catch her off-guard with something that makes her laugh."
Dipper took this all in and absorbed it, seeing the look of adoration in Wirt's expression as he took his time to list, he hated himself for ever doubting him. He didn't bother to joke a threat, should he hurt Wendy. He could tell it would never be an issue. He was reassured, and for a moment, his mind quieted.
In a cramped bathroom on the first floor, there stood Gideon, a box of band-aids and a distant expression as he tilted some peroxide on a cotton ball. He held out his hand for a moment before rolling his eyes and wrenching Mabel's hand forward to clean the cut. He seemed mad, a different mood than he had given just a while earlier when he volunteered to help.
Mabel knew he was faking it for the others, and felt vindicated in this.
"You can be so stupid sometimes," Gideon chided, "You don't hold the knife that way when you're cutting something, it's asking for an injury."
"That's the Gideon I know," Mabel scoffed, "condescending and holier-than-thou. Where ya been?"
"As a matter of fact, I don't enjoy acting this way, Mabel. I try to be kind, I try to keep myself calm, I want to be better-" Gideon pressed the cotton ball hard into her finger with one hand while grabbing an unwrapped band-aid with the other. "You just can't get over it. I have changed, or at least I'm trying to, but you haven't changed at all."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Mabel hissed in pain, Gideon removing the bloodied cotton ball to apply the bandage.
"You think of yourself and you squeeze others in when it's convenient, you're set in your thoughts and ways, anyone who infringes upon what you think you're entitled to and you become a helpless, angry victim," Gideon said with malice, but applied the bandage carefully and squeezing the finger tight in his fist.
"What are you doing?" Mabel asked, ignoring his snide comments to her.
"You have to warm the adhesive or it won't stick," Gideon muttered, sighing shortly.
"I won't forgive you," Mabel twisted her mouth in disgust.
"Sure, Mabel, expected nothing less," Gideon muttered, letting go of her finger so it dropped to her side.
"Where's Bill hiding?" Mabel looked over her nose at him, chin high as she felt a hint of irritation as she saw the shock in his face.
"I don't know, don't you think I would've mentioned as much by now?" Gideon snapped, making to pass her but she stepped in front of him.
"That's the thing, I'm not so sure you would. What if Bill still has you under his control?"
"Do you have a carrot in your ear, Mabel? That turkey-god-thing cut my ties from him, how could he?"
"Stranger things have happened in the Falls," Mabel muttered.
"I wasn't conscious when he did all that, even if he did use my..." the thought sickened Gideon so he swallowed thickly and continued, "He would've had to have been that dog thing to do that kind of damage. He didn't want me to know anything, I'm sure he knew the two of you would get involved, eventually. You two never can seem to leave well enough alone."
"So what, we just give up? Let this Bill-Xolotl-god-guy bring everything to ruin? It was all just so well and good the first time he tried!"
"Oh come off it," Gideon groaned, "I'm going back to help."
"Prove it, and I might forgive you," Mabel tilted her head, eyes sharp. "If you really have nothing to hide, you'll let me do what it takes to find out, won't you?"
Gideon scratched his cheek with his nails, at a loss, Mabel definitely looked serious. Moreso, he could see a hint of something else in her expression, it looked like resolve. He drug his palms down his face and quietly agreed with the exception that they would at least eat first before she did whatever harebrained scheme was up her sleeve.
Mabel reluctantly agreed.
Following instruction, Mabel went upstairs to retrieve both Coraline and Wybie for dinner and found the two of them sitting quietly side-by-side, holding hands. The air between them felt stale. The two followed behind her down the stairs and tried their best to engage with the others. They wouldn't let go of the other's hand.
With the table set, the soup nearly done, everyone but Wirt (who remained stirring in the kitchen) loitered around the dining room mentally choosing a seat as they talked amongst themselves. Gideon was actually holding a fairly intense conversation with Greg about his life before living in the woods and answering the younger one's questions. Dipper noticed this with a hint of surprise and expressed this to Norman.
Norman merely shrugged with a noncommittal air, "Greg gets along with everyone, it's just how he is."
Dipper kept the thought to himself but privately assumed while this may typically be the case, Greg had an odd look in his eyes. As though he was wondering how much of what Gideon said was true. From what he overheard it sounded right, even if only getting one side of the story.
However, soon enough, the soup is brought in and everyone takes their seats at the table: Mabel at the head of the table by the window, followed by Dipper, Norman, Wirt, Greg, Wybie, Coraline, and Gideon, sitting at Mabel's right at the rectangular table. The conversation was minimal as the heaviness began to settle among the group.
After a while, Greg began humming a song to himself as he ate, muttering a comment about the lack of talking the past few days being annoying. His optimism had overall not been dampened by the years, but his preteen preoccupation of a constant fight with boredom was slowly approaching. Greg watched Mabel's thoughtful expression as she swished her soup around with a spoon and wondered about the precise source of her daze.
For the past few days, he had been idly switching between eavesdropping on the happenings going on with the Beast/Xolotl/Bill (that Wirt was trying to hide from him, albeit poorly) and reading a series of sci-fi books he'd found interest in recently.
Greg was the first to notice Gideon's quiet leaving the table, soup only half-finished. Greg's eyes went to Mabel who followed soon after, a thoughtful look on her face. He spooned another bite of soup in this mouth, not even sensing any foreboding until Coraline stood so quickly from the table that her chair clattered to the floor and she ran from the dining room.
The others all followed, even Wirt eventually, giving Greg a reassuring pat on the head and an insistence to finish his food as he followed the others.
So Greg sat, alone and thoughtful, muffled yelling from the other room indistinguishable as he continued eating his soup.