Closer Than Ever Before
Author Note:
I'm back!
Sorry for being so inconsistent with updating stuff! I kind of jump around between my stories, depending on what I'm having ideas for at the moment, and this one is currently developing very quickly. As compensation, the next two chapters of Closer Than Ever Before will probably come out pretty quickly, because of a rather interesting situation. My initial version of Chapter 4 was really cool, but after running it by my editorial team (a.k.a. my little brother), I realized things were moving too fast, so I wrote this chapter and am writing the next one in order to break up the really major plot points a bit. My initial Chapter 4 draft will instead become Chapter 6.
To everyone who's reviewed this, thanks a whole lot! Especially to those who have offered suggestions, theories, and constructive criticism.
This chapter's not particularly exciting, though it does contain some of my headcanon about the other two Journals, so…yay? I promise the next chapter is more actiony. On with the story!
Oh, and for those of you who enjoyed the reference in Chapter 2:
Yek eht rof hcraes.
Chapter 4: Brevit Requies
The Mystery Shack
July 30, 2012, Around noon
Coming out of the secret passage behind the vending machine felt extremely surreal, as if there should be something different about the world after all the secrets that had been revealed down there. Dipper and Mabel were still having a hard time collectively processing it, and Wendy said she needed to go home and stare at a wall to "rethink everything" again.
The strangeness was only compounded when they looked at the clock to see that it was barely noon! All of those secrets had come to light in less than two hours, but for the second time in less than a day, the entire world had changed.
Somehow, Mabel managed to keep it together enough to make some lunch for herself (themselves?) and the others. Probably only because the last two months had desensitized them to utter strangeness. Or maybe just because Mabel was that kind of person, who loved helping others. She brought three sandwiches over to the table in the living room, setting one in front of Soos, who was currently staring blankly at the wall, took a bite out of one sandwich herself, and left the other one alone, for Grunkle Stan whenever he decided to come upstairs.
By snapping her fingers in front of Wendy's face a few times, and poking Soos's marshmallow-like stomach, Mabel managed to snap them out of it enough that they noticed the food she'd placed in front of them.
The three (four?) friends ate in silence, still mentally processing today's emotional rollercoaster of weirdness.
–I still can't believe that story. I mean, I don't think Stan was lying… even he couldn't make that up, but… wow.
I know, right? We have another Grunkle! I wish he was here so I could heal them with my words.
Mabel was currently walking up the stairs to their room, all three of the Author's (No, call him Grunkle Ford now!) Journals in her arms. Despite Dipper's apprehension about Stan's warning, she could still feel the emotional current of his excitement from what they'd learned down in the basement.
Grunkle Stan had told them (or more accurately, told Dipper) that they could search through Journals 1 and 2 for anything that might help Dipper's situation. Though Stan didn't remember anything that looked related from there, he admitted to not really paying attention to stuff that wasn't directly related to the portal, especially in Journal 2. However, he followed up with "No matter what you find in there, the portal stays on."
Of course, this combined with what they already knew from Stan's story about their other great-uncle's crowning achievement only intensified the storm of ideas, theories, and worries engulfing Dipper's mind, to the point that Mabel's head started to ache.
-Why would Stan say that unless he knew we'd find some reason to turn it off?
Placing the battered books on the bedside table, Mabel thought that if this was always how her twin felt when solving mysteries or learning new things, then it was no wonder his grades were always so good… and why Dipper was so much better than her at like… everything.
Dipper's theorizing about the portal and the Journals came to a screeching halt.
–What? No, Mabel. Don't even go there. We already had this conversation after that whole thing with Gideon and the shrinking flashlight.
But it's true! Mabel thought, You ARE better than me at everything… everything that matters anyway.
–Are you kidding? You've got all sorts of talents, Mabel. For example, you're an arts and crafts master. I mean, I can draw okay, but you're on a whole other level.
As if Dipper had conjured them up from the depths of her mind (heck, maybe he had somehow; he was literally inside her head), memories of Mabel's many artistic masterpieces danced before her eyes.
–Do you think any of the other kids we know could sculpt a creepily accurate wax statue of a man they only met a week ago, and all in just one morning?
In her mind's eye, Mabel saw Wax Stan. Knowing about Ford now explained why Stan had acted so weird around the statue. It wasn't because of creepy narcissistic reasons like they'd thought back then; but because Wax Stan reminded him of his brother, who might be dead, and if so, it was partly Stan's fault. To Stan, that had been the funeral he'd never gotten to give his brother. Even after thirty years, if that pain was anything like what Mabel had felt yesterday… Well, no wonder he'd run crying from the room.
–Or there's Summerween. You finished those costumes for us and Waddles just two hours after learning the holiday existed at all!
Peanut butter and jelly! It was just too perfect not to make, and between the attic and the Summerween Superstore, the materials had been easy. Maybe Dipper was right… Mabel's headache got a little bit worse, but Dipper didn't seem to notice. As if summoned by their thinking about him, Waddles trotted into the room and went right up to Mabel, who picked the pig up for a tummy rub.
–And what about all of your handmade sweaters? Those are amazing.
Yeah, Mabel really loved making sweaters. Mom and Grandma Thomas had taught her how to knit when she was just five years old, and scarcely a day had since gone by that Mabel hadn't done at least some knitting. Though she mostly knit for herself, every Christmas/Hanukkah, birthday, or other gift-giving occasion in the Pines household was sure to feature at least one Mabel original sweater, scarf, or other knitted item. It was just what Mabel did, and what good was that? Even if Mabel had artistic talents, Dipper was good at useful stuff, like math and science and reading.
–You can totally do that stuff when you want to, Mabel. Like those sweaters that light up or play music. Until now, I thought you'd found those on the Internet or something, but…
Mabel pulled the lightbulb and boombox sweaters out of her suitcase. They had been some of her most ambitious projects. After seeing one on TV, Mabel had thought it was amazing, so she looked up some instructions online, then found all the electronic components at her favorite hobby shop. The lightbulb sweater had come first, about a year and a half ago, then the more ambitious boombox sweater had taken most of last summer to complete.
–See? That's not just knitting; it's electrical engineering! And while we're on the subject, there are all sorts of things I'm terrible at.
Such as personal hygiene? Mabel interjected. It was a knee-jerk response up here in the attic, where sweaty boy laundry littered the floor.
–Uh… I was thinking more along the lines of…
Though Dipper hesitated, there was no hiding his thoughts here in Mabel's mind, and another memory surfaced.
November, 2011
Piedmont Middle School
The cafeteria was filled with the barely-controlled chaos of several hundred middle school kids freed from their classes for that all-too-crucial half-hour: lunch. Some brought it from home, others waited in line to brave the questionable cuisine provided by an equally questionable grimacing woman in a hairnet (if she was a woman; it was hard to tell). Various cliques and social groups all gathered at their respective tables, the most popular holding court like medieval monarchs, while those nearer the opposite end of the social spectrum congregated at the least desirable tables, or else against the wall, finding some measure of solidarity in their shared exclusion.
All except one. In a corner next to the trash cans sat a small boy in a ratty brown baseball cap with a star on the front. Dipper Pines was rock bottom of the pecking order; an outcast even among the other outcasts.
Usually, he'd be sitting at one of the tables with his sister. Mabel probably could have been quite popular had she not persisted in sticking by her pariah of a brother. But stick by him she did. Mabel always sat with Dipper at lunch, keeping him company and warning away bullies with a death glare, and if necessary, a clenched fist.
But Mabel had come down with a case of food poisoning after being the only family member to brave Dad's disastrous attempt at dinner last week (like his daughter, Mr. Pines was… adventurous in the kitchen), and had to stay home. She'd been sick for the past four days, leaving Dipper alone at school for the first time in years.
He'd tried to make friends, but to no avail. At every table, the kids would spread out slightly at his approach, and even the other wall-sitting social outcasts got up and walked away when Dipper got close, as if he carried some kind of horrible infectious disease. But at least his lunch hadn't been stolen, he wasn't being pelted with "tuna" surprise, and no one had tried to beat him up yet today. That's about the best Dipper could hope for when Mabel was absent.
–It's a good thing there weren't any tests or big projects that week, because I definitely would have failed them. I barely hung onto passing grades as it was. You really are my only friend back home, Mabel.
Mabel herself didn't remember much about that week except that once she'd gotten better, the family had collectively agreed that Dad was no longer allowed to cook unsupervised. Even Waddles, who regularly tried to eat Dipper's laundry, would probably turn up his snout at Dad's culinary efforts. After a mental chuckle at the memory, Dipper continued.
–I've always been… jealous, I guess, of how easily you make friends, Mabel. You connect with other people so easily… and now I can see that it's because you really, truly care about everyone and want them to be happy.
That's… not what Mabel had been expecting. Sure, Dipper was in her head now, but she'd been in there her whole life and never actually known that. Seems like the only person she couldn't connect with was herself.
Thanks, bro-bro, she thought. For a while, they just lay there on the bed, petting Waddles and thinking about what they'd learned down in the basement about the original Mystery Twins. Then Mabel happened to glance at the bedside table to see the sunlight glinting off the brass corners on the stack of Journals there, and sat straight up.
Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
–Like you don't already know! I've been thinking about them this whole time. It's a good thing you're driving because I probably would have passed out again while carrying those up here.
Reaching for Journal 1, Mabel once again felt that elated Christmas-morning feeling from Dipper.
Ready for all your nerdiest dreams to come true?
–Yes. Definitely. Absolutely.
Hands shaking with anticipation, Dipper opened his great-uncle's first Journal and began to read.
When Stan came back upstairs, he found Soos eating a sandwich at the kitchen table. Between bites, Soos told Stan that he'd driven Wendy home, the kids were upstairs, and that Mabel had left the sandwich on the table for Stan, so he picked up the plate and carried it into his office, even though usually, he'd have eaten on the recliner in the living room. There was still an (unfortunately) very important phone call that Stan needed to make, but he was now even more unsure of what to say.
Explaining an accident or even an actual suicide would have been heart-rending and painful beyond belief, but at least it would have been possible. How did you tell someone who'd never (as far as he knew) encountered the supernatural that their son had been possessed and then murdered by a demonic triangle, but still lived on as a disembodied consciousness inside his sister's mind? Oh, and also, there wasn't a body to bury because it had mysteriously exploded in a magical supernova.
If he told the truth, the kids' parents would certainly think Stan was either lying or more likely, that he'd gone senile. And he wouldn't blame them either.Stan stared at the phone as if by doing so, a believable story would magically appear in his mind.
"Whatcha doin,' Mr. Pines?" Soos asked from the doorway.
Snapped out of his thoughts, Stan jumped, nearly knocking the phone off his desk. "Hot Belgian Waffles, Soos! Ever heard of knocking?" But even with Soos, Stan just couldn't manage his usual gruff demeanor right now, drained as he was by both the many emotional highs and lows and the somewhat cathartic revealing of his greatest secrets. He sighed. "I'm tryin' to figure out what to say to the kids' parents. It wouldn't be right to lie about something like this, but… there's no way they'd believe the truth. I mean, I still barely believe it, and I've lived in this crazy town for thirty years!"
Squinting and stroking the (fake) hairs on his chin, Soos appeared to be deep in thought, which was a very odd look for him. "Hmm… have you asked what they think, dude?"
They, who?
"What?" Stan asked.
"I mean, ask Dipper and Mabel. They're pretty smart kids for their age, dude," Soos said. Then he went back to the "deep thinking" pose again. "Or is it 'they're a pretty smart kid? Another mystery… well, I'd better get back to sweeping if we're going to open tomorrow, dude!"
As Soos walked down the hallway, Stan was once again amazed at his oldest employee's dedication. Even in the face of all this whacked-out weirdness, Soos's first priority was his job. Sometimes it seemed like Soos cared more about the Mystery Shack than Stan himself did. Taking a halfhearted bite out of the sandwich Mabel had made, he went back to staring at the phone.
Several hours later, the Journals had not yielded any usable information on how Dipper's state of existence might be improved upon. However, the twins had discovered a rather interesting application of their shared mind when Mabel's thoughts began to wander and she thought about how whenever she'd had to read books for school, she'd multitask by knitting at the same time. Thinking of multitasking prompted Dipper to point out that the human mind couldn't really focus on more than one thing at a time, in his typical manner of unsolicited nerdy explanation (or maybe the factoid had just automatically popped out of his subconscious; it was hard to tell).
Mabel had immediately realized and pointed out the irony of that statement in this situation. With two of them in here, true multitasking might actually be possible. After all, they'd already mastered switching back and forth who was in the "driver's seat." Why not try sharing control?
–Of course! Dipper realized, grabbing a nearby pen and clicking it excitedly. The brain is already divided, and each half controls one half of the body! We can read both Journals at the same time! See? You've got all sorts of good ideas, Mabel!
Thankfully, deciding who would control which side was pretty easy, since Mabel was solidly left-handed, while Dipper was ambidextrous. After accidentally slapping themselves in the face a few times, they finally managed it (the eyes were actually way harder than the hands, and they mutually agreed not to try walking this way).
Reading through both Journals at once, they found a lot of interesting stuff, but none of it was obviously useful. Journal 1 was mostly about various creatures, very few of which the twins had encountered. Though there was an entry on the Manotaurs, it didn't seem like Great-uncle Ford had managed to find out much about them. He'd certainly never been to their Man Cave. Somewhat ominously, a section on local legends referenced the Gobblewonker, indicating that Old Man McGucket had based his robot on a previously existing story, though Great-uncle Ford had also been unable to confirm the true creature's existence. Much to Mabel's delight, Journal 1 also featured a large section on unicorns and even a map to a mystical glade in the forest where they could apparently be summoned. (Dipper had to remind her several times that they weren't looking for unicorns right now, but she promised herself to meet one before the summer was up.) In addition to the blueprint page showing the bottom corner of the portal structure, many other pages contained additional equations, diagrams, and instructions relating to it. Dipper remembered seeing similar notes throughout Journal 3.
The most promising part of Journal 1, at least as it potentially related to helping Dipper, were several allusions to the "Crawlspace": a paranormal black market hidden beneath the town. Unfortunately, the only thing Great-uncle Ford had really known about this place was no one could get in without a key. Dipper immediately thought of the President's Key he'd gotten from Quentin Trembley, which could allegedly open any lock in America (or at least those made before 1877). However, they decided to leave the Crawlspace as a last resort. It sounded like exactly the sort of place to get supernaturally swindled, and well… that's the whole reason they were in this mess to begin with.
Their first thought upon further reading in Journal 2 was that as bad as Gideon had been, he could have done so much worse with the knowledge in here. Along with yet more portal instructions were written all sorts of magic spells, rituals, and incantations, some of which looked extremely evil. For example, they found the recipe for a potion that at first seemed to be exactly what Dipper needed. It claimed to be capable of restoring a disembodied soul to physical form… but the ingredients were horrifying: bone from one's own father, flesh of a loyal servant, and the blood of a sworn enemy. This had all the hallmarks of the kind of dark magic Dipper had read about in horror and fantasy novels. No way were they messing with that kind of stuff again.
It also included more information on zombies, vampires and other undead, a page detailing the mystical amulet Gideon had used when they first met him, and entries on several other mysterious artifacts, including a cursed chest called the "Casket of Vengeance," which Mabel vaguely remembered seeing in a closet somewhere in the Shack.
As expected, there was a whole section devoted to Bill Cipher, but only two of the pages in it were intact. One showed Bill in the center of a wheel divided into ten sections, each with a small symbol of its own. Both of them remembered that very same wheel appearing just before the psychotic triangle had vanished from Stan's mind after they defeated him the first time. On the opposite page was an incantation for summoning Bill. Unfortunately, all of the nearby pages had either been torn out or were covered in violent black scribbles. Nothing useful could be extracted from there.
The most exciting thing in there (for Dipper, anyway) was a detailed description of a massive, wrecked alien spacecraft, the impact of which had apparently created the valley of Gravity Falls millions of years ago. Upon reading this, he stood straight up on Mabel's bed, which was very awkward considering he controlled only one of their legs.
–So much makes sense now! The floating cliffs, the way compasses don't work, all the stuff in Journal 3 about "Crash Site Omega," even the Shapeshifter! It must have come from there! Aliens are real! I KNEW it! AAAAAAH!
It was similar to what had happened in the basement this morning upon (sort of) learning the identity of the Author. Mabel felt a strange sensation, like the tingly feeling of a long-motionless limb "waking up," only covering her entire right side, before control over it abruptly returned, causing her to collapse back onto the bed.
Just like down in the basement earlier, Dipper had passed out, resulting in some form of him being ejected from Mabel's body, where it now lay faceup on the floor.
"Dipper?" she called out. "Can you hear me?"
He didn't move or respond, and she couldn't hear him in her mind either. Not even a flicker of emotion.
"Come on, Dippingsauce, don't leave me hanging!"
Still no response, but Mabel now noticed that the headache she'd had all afternoon was completely gone. Had that been related to Dipper being in there? Had they fixed the problem without even trying?
But as Mabel watched Dipper for any sign of life, she noticed something: she could see the planks of the floor right through her brother's body! He'd looked solid enough before… but as Mabel looked more closely, she could see Dipper's outline becoming less distinct. She gasped, acted on some deep protective instinct, and grabbed her brother's hand.
Just like in the basement, the moment Mabel touched him, Dipper vanished from sight, and she could once again feel him linked to her mind, along with a slight twinge of headache. She breathed a sigh of relief.
–Wh-what happened? Oh, I must have passed out again… sorry, Mabel.
Thank goodness you're all right, Dipper!
–Why wouldn't I be? Sure, I got a bit too excited, but your body is pretty used to that…
Mabel's memory of the last few minutes of first joy, then terror were still fresh in her mind, and quickly caught Dipper up on what had happened.
–I was fading? Why would that be? Did it look anything like this?
He showed her a memory of himself looking at… two of himself in a mirror. The Dipper standing on the ground had those sickly yellow slit eyes, obviously possessed by Bill, but the other (from whose perspective the memory was) floated several feet off the ground, surrounded in a pale white glow that his legs and feet sort of blended into. Fortunately, this mental connection thing really facilitated communication, and Mabel didn't even need to reply in the negative.
–It's probably because I'm depending on your brain and body to exist. But then, how did I exist independently and control a sock puppet yesterday?
Glancing around the room, their eyes fell back on the Journals. These two each contained nearly twice as much material as Journal 3, so they'd mostly been skimming, not reading deeply into each entry, but even then, there was a lot more to go through.
Want to get back to work, I guess?
Had it been spoken aloud, the resignation in Mabel's voice might have escaped Dipper, but he couldn't help feeling it now, and though Dipper hadn't noticed it before, (since getting wholly engrossed in a project was a tendency the Pines twins had shared even before now), doing that simultaneous reading thing had produced a bad headache.
–You know what? Let's take a break from the Journals and see if Grunkle Stan's come upstairs yet.
"Who are you and what have you done with Dipper?" Mabel asked, attempting a joke.
Dipper just gave a mental chuckle at Mabel's sarcasm (rather ineffective when they could see each other's every thought) as she grabbed his hat from the bed and headed down the stairs to look for Stan.
They found him in his office, staring at the phone on his desk.
"Grunkle Stan!" Mabel said. "Did you like the sandwich? I put sprinkles on it!"
Stan sighed, sounding older than he'd ever seemed before. "Kid… or kids, whatever… I'm tryin' to figure out how to explain all this to your parents." he said hopefully. "'Cause even if we all know you're both in there, it sure doesn't look that way from the outside."
And it better not, Mabel thought. The only good reason for me to dress up like Dipper is to play pranks on jerky stink-faces!
–So that's why Jake and Kyle were scared of me for a week… I guess it was fun while it lasted.
That's a good point, though. How are we going to explain this to Mom and Dad? Except for that gross evil wizard potion, there wasn't anything in the Journal yet, and we've just discovered that you'll fade away outside my head!
While Dipper thought about this, Mabel sat down in the chair next to Grunkle Stan's desk and realized something ironic. Last time I sat here, I was in your body… and learned WAY too much about it.
"You guys are doin' the whole 'voices in your head' thing, right? Please tell me that means you found some magic way to pull yourself back together or something…" Stan said hopefully.
Mabel flipped the pine tree hat around, allowing Dipper to explain about the disgusting potion, and why they weren't willing to use it. Stan wholeheartedly agreed. Any solution that involved killing or hurting others was unacceptable. However, they decided not to tell Stan about the Crawlspace, at least not yet. He'd probably enjoy a place like that a bit too much.
Stan's shoulders slumped. "So you didn't find anything… there's no way to restore Dipper to his body. I guess that shouldn't be a surprise, with what Wendy said happened to it…"
"What happened to it?" Dipper asked.
This led to Stan relating the account told to him by Wendy and Soos of what had gone on down in the bunker last night. Dipper's storm of worries (and pen clicking) immediately started up again as he came to the exact same conclusion Stan had after first hearing the story: his body had been relativistically converted into energy.
"It must have something to do with the spell… I'd bet that explosion happened at the exact moment I entered Mabel's mind… but why was there a delay between casting the spell and its effect? And where did it all go? That kind of energy should have blown most of Oregon into the stratosphere… then there's those symbols… Pine Tree and Shooting Star… that's what Bill calls us… just like on my hat and Mabel's sweater (he was wearing both items right now)... and they were both on that wheel of his, too. It means… something."
Then the actual impact of it hit him, along with a sudden thought that was neither Mabel's nor truly his own. There were no images, only a deep, calm voice that somehow soothed Dipper's burgeoning panic despite confirming what he'd just realized.
The vessel of your birth cannot be recovered.
WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT? Mabel asked.
"Uh…" Dipper stammered. "Not… sure."
–I don't know… it's almost like I just remembered that from a long time ago… somehow. I know we can trust it, though.
You're sure it's not Bill? Seems like something that pointy jerk might say.
–Positive. Whatever this thing is, it's like… like the opposite of Bill.
"Yoo-hoo," Stan said, snapping his fingers in front of their face. "What's 'not sure'? Mind sharing with the rest of the class?"
"Yeah," Dipper said, unable to keep the bitterness from his tone. "Apparently I'm stuck in Mabel's head forever. Woo-hoo…"
He flipped the hat back around, handing the reins back to Mabel. As if on cue, the mysterious calming (memory?) voice spoke again. This time, the words matched the tone much more closely.
Just because your first vessel is lost does not mean another cannot be obtained.
See, Dipper? It's not hopeless. Trust the other voices in your head, especially when we agree with each other. Besides…
"There's still like half of those other Journals left!" Mabel reminded him. "After all the other stuff we've done this summer, this'll be a piece of cake, so no giving up, Dipper!"
-Yeah… we've survived monsters and zombies and even Gideon. That seemed like the end of the summer, but it worked out fine. You're right, Mabel. I can't lose hope.
"When will you ever learn, Dipper? I'm always right about everything."
Stan cleared his throat."That's great and all, pumpkin, but what do I tell your parents?"
After another quick mental conference, Mabel took a deep breath and looked up, straight into Stan's eyes.
"Nothing. Not yet."
"But–"
"At the end of the summer, no matter w-what happens, we'll ask Mom and Dad to come up here for our 13th birthday party."
She flipped the pine tree hat so Dipper could finish.
"Once they're here, we tell them everything. All the weird stuff about the town, what we've found here, what happened to us, and what happened to your brother. No lies, no cover-ups. We'll show them all the proof… they'll have to believe us. This family has had enough of secrets and lies."
Thinking hard, Stan didn't respond. For a solid minute that felt like an hour, he just sat there staring hard at his shoes. When he looked up, his eyes were watery.
"A-alright. We'll hold off on telling your parents," Stan said. "But only if you're sure there's some way of fixing… this…"
He gestured up and down the twelve-year-old girl playing host to her twin brother's disembodied consciousness standing in front of him.
Dipper nodded. "We're sure. There has to be a way, even if we don't know it yet."
He flipped his hat back around, and Mabel continued. "This summer's not over. We've got one more month," Mabel said, voice firm with titanium resolve. "Let's use it to get both our brothers back onto this plane of existence."
"Aw, you kids. C'mere."
Overcome with emotion at their selfless determination, Stan reached forward and grabbed his currently combined great-niece and nephew in a bear hug.
I can't believe how nerdy that sounded. You must be rubbing off on me, Dipper.
–Kinda hard not to when we're like this. But if it's any consolation, I think I'm catching some of your Mabel-y optimism, too.
The moment was only slightly dampened by Soos popping his head into the office, saying, "Hey, dawgs, what's… Oh, you dudes are having a moment," then leaving without another word.
It turned out that Soos had been looking for the twins specifically, wanting to give them something before he went home for the day. When he'd gotten back to the Mystery Shack after driving Wendy home (figuring she probably shouldn't be biking through the woods in that kind of mental state), Soos had found Dipper's vest in the backseat of his truck, where it had ended up after last night's events at the bunker, and thought they might want it.
Inside the (slightly torn) vest's pockets were the President's Key, a battery-powered blacklight, several chewed-on pens, and a small spiral notepad. None of it would be all that useful for research (except maybe the blacklight), but it was nice of Soos to think of retrieving it, even if Mabel flatly refused to wear any of Dipper's clothes.
"Thanks, Soos," Mabel said. "It means a lot."
"Just doin' my job, hambone," Soos replied, flipping a screwdriver over his head and catching it in his tool belt. He opened the door and waved goodbye. "I'll see you dudes tomorrow!"
"Bye, Soos!" Mabel waved in response for both herself and Dipper. "Do you ever wonder what Soos does when he's not here at the Mystery Shack?"
–No, not really.
"Not once, ever," said Stan, who had walked up behind them.
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Sorry there wasn't more action in this chapter. Darn plot bunnies… Well, you can probably tell what's coming up next: an unlikely meeting with yet another disembodied intelligence. Who could it be?
