Earth, August 5th, 2012
"Sir?"
Sweet air came rushing back. Pacifica hit the ground, limp, neck on fire and burning with every gulping breath.
"Oh hey, it's one of you. I can't even tell the difference between you useless lumps of vascular systems, so I'll just call you Jeeves, okay?"
Her vision returned in blurred pockets. One of the butlers, the one who covered for Dipper's first visit, stood with a brush and dust pan. She didn't know butlers could even have expressions, but this one's eyes were wide and his mouth hung open.
"I… I heard glass breaking, sir."
"Well, there's an obvious reason for that!" The thing in her dad's skin turned his head to show the spiderweb of cuts the mirror left behind, stretching and bleeding from temple to jaw. "Glass broke on my face."
She couldn't speak, but she could see and she could breathe. She had to run. Pain didn't slow this thing down, and she couldn't outrun a grown man alone.
Pacifica grabbed the broken mirror.
"So now that you know that, go be a good human and forget what you saw. You know, I know a guy who could probably help with—"
Pacifica slammed the mirror against his knee. It buckled and cut him down like a cursing tree.
"DAMN it, she got me again!"
She sprinted past the butler on wobbling legs. The world teetered side to side, but she had to focus, had to breathe, even if her lungs burned and her throat swelled and even the floor felt unreal.
"Aren't llamas supposed to be easy to kill?"
Out, out—she wasn't safe on the grounds. She couldn't escape her father there, whatever he was now.
"Sir, I'm afraid I cannot allow—"
"Who cares what you allow, Jeeves?"
Pacifica had a head start. She knew the mansion, even if her vision blurred at the edges and every step put her off center. The hallway opened up to the grand entrance, and her heart slammed itself against her bruised throat at the sight of the front doors. She fumbled down the stairs, scrambling to get away, she could hear fighting—then her ankle rolled.
Her legs buckled under her and she toppled, protecting her face with her arms as the steps hammered her ribs, and she fell on the hardwood floor with a crack. She didn't even have the air to scream.
"It's so hard to get good help these days!"
Her father's voice was all wrong, too cheerful. He was coming. Pacifica grit her teeth and pushed herself to her feet, running to the front door and yanking down the lever to open the gates.
"Oh little daughter of mine! You think you can escape me?"
The front doors were huge. She tugged one desperately, her whole chest burning, then she braced herself against the other to give it one hard yank.
Warm summer night air rushed out to meet her. Footsteps were coming down the stairs.
"It's cute to see you try!"
Pacifica darted out the door, leaving the opening too small for a grown man. The front gates were open ahead of her. She was nearly off the property.
She took a sharp right further into the grounds.
"Why do humans even have giant doors? They don't need them!" She had another head start. Her knees were wobbling and she gasped for a full breath of air but she was still running because nothing else mattered.
She ran all the way to the household's stables.
"Peekaboo, little llama!"
His footsteps cracked over the gravel paths. He was laughing. He was just laughing, like they were playing a game of tag, except the loser died.
She ducked into the stables. All the horses were stomping their hooves and throwing back their heads, like they knew. All the way at the back all the way at the back—
"You think you can escape?"
Her father towered at the entrance, smiling as blood dripped down his face and stained his collar.
"All this has already been foretold, little girl. The gears were turning before you were even born. So I don't have the mirror—big deal. I'll just do things the old fashioned way."
Pacifica crawled into Antigone's stall. The black mare tossed her head, showing the whites of her eyes to whatever wore Preston Northwest like a coat.
"I swear, it was a real break for me when Pine Tree shoved his sister into the portal."
Pacifica froze for a moment, her hands on the horse's hide.
"What, you didn't know about that? Well, turns out Pine Tree lies to you a lot." He stepped past the horses, who all started kicking their stalls and shaking the building. "You don't matter enough for the truth. You're not trusted enough. You're not his friend, you're just a means to an end."
Pacifica dug her fingers in Antigone's perfectly coiffed mane.
"But I think you always knew that. You know as well as I do that you've never had any friends, and you definitely never will, because people only ever put up with your obnoxious personality so they can get at your money."
Pacifica braced herself on the stall's wall. Her father laced his fingers, both like a businessman and one of those talk show hosts.
"Maybe I was hasty before. Maybe we could work together. I know you're lonely up there in that house. What if I told you I could make people be your friend? For real. I could even make Pine Tree go soft on you. You'd like that."
Blood was dripping into those constantly smiling teeth. "Why don't we make a de—WHAT!"
Pacifica mounted Antigone, her ribs like knives in her organs, and the mare slammed out of her stall and smashed her shoulder on Pacifica's father, shoving him against the wood and threatening to trample him. Pacifica twisted her hands in the mare's mane as her only method of staying on. She tried to keep her legs tense on the horse's bare sides, but the wild had taken the horse and foam flecked from Antigone's mouth and her eyes were surrounded by white.
A familiar boy was standing at the gate, his hands shoved in his pockets as he tapped his foot impatiently. The tapping immediately stopped and his eyes went wide at the horse.
"Pacifica?"
She opened her mouth to yell, to tell him to get on the horse, but the air only squealed through her throat. It was too bruised. She couldn't speak.
Instead, she just leaned down and grabbed his arm.
He yelled in fear and pain as his shoulder was nearly dislocated. Pacifica would apologize later. The body of her father staggered out of the stable, and his howl of rage could be heard through the grounds. With one last shot of adrenaline, Pacifica yanked Dipper up and he just managed to straddle Antigone's back.
That must have been the last of her adrenaline, because it suddenly felt like her ribs had exploded and she hugged Antigone's neck, the world wobbling as she struggled not to fall.
"Oh my gosh oh my gosh what is happening—oh Pacifica, your face!"
Despite the wobbling world, Pacifica managed to give Dipper a sharp pinch on the leg.
"Ow, what was that for?"
Idiot boys. Pacifica sent him a scathing glare before trying to focus on breathing and steering again. Antigone knew to run, but she didn't know where to run and frankly neither did Pacifica. It was hard to breathe, too hard, especially with her ribs burning with every thunder strike of hooves.
The road was going to be dangerous if the beast decided to follow them by car, so Pacifica jerked Antigone towards the woods. Dipper yelped and wrapped his arms around her ribs. She didn't scream, but that was only because she didn't have the breath to, so she just went momentarily blind from the pain.
The world faded out. Ball was in Dipper's court now.
Earth, August 6th, 2012
They had a horse rambling outside of the Shack, a dubiously conscious rich girl sleeping in Mabel's bed, and probably a kidnapping charge waiting for them if anyone ever found out. If this was what Pacifica had in mind when she called Dipper to the mansion, he'd have to give her a serious talk on what the definition of 'good' was.
Grunkle Stan eventually found them after the horse took them in the middle of the woods and Dipper was trapped on it because it was tall and he didn't trust it not to step on him if he tried to jump off. He carried an unconscious Pacifica to the Shack and cleaned her up. Under all the makeup and blood, she had a split lip, a big bruise on her cheek, bruises on her ribs, and a ring of swollen bruises around her throat.
"Someone tried to kill your friend," Stan had said as he threw out the soiled paper towels they used for her face.
"What?" Dipper had been doing his best to help, but Grunkle Stan clearly had more experience with blood and first aid, so instead he just ended up sitting on the edge of the bed while they took care of her. "Who would do that?"
"I don't know, but you don't get bruises like that when someone grabs your neck for fun." Stan had rested a hand on Dipper's shoulder. "Let's keep this between us for now. You mind if she stays in the room with you?"
Dipper's biggest discomfort was that this was Mabel's bed on Mabel's side of the room, but someone had tried to kill Pacifica, and at least until they figured out what happened, it was best she stayed in a room where someone could keep an eye on her overnight.
Pacifica eased in and out of consciousness. Dipper was pretty sure he heard her mutter 'Hell is so tacky' at some point.
Grunkle Stan was doing tours downstairs and Dipper was transcribing McGucket's notes in his bed when Pacifica finally woke up for real. He knew they had her back because the first thing she did was squint at him and say in the snootiest voice she could, "What are you doing in my room?"
Her voice sounded like rust, and she grimaced. Dipper had to pitch his book higher to cover up the smile on his face. She didn't need to see he was relieved she was awake or anything. "You're in my room, Pacifica."
"I'm what?" She jerked to sit, then she hissed, holding her ribs. Dipper dropped his book on his bed and came towards her.
"Don't do that. Grunkle Stan thinks you cracked some ribs."
"Yeah, I noticed." Pacifica eased herself back into the bed and glared at Dipper when he moved to help. Dipper withdrew his hands, scowling, but he couldn't really bring himself to be angry at her and her dumb pride. "Do you have water or something? This place has sanitary running water, right?"
Good to know her personality wasn't hurt. Dipper rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we have water. I'll get you a glass."
If he were being entirely honest, the haughtiness might have been a tiny bit welcome. Pacifica looked wrong quiet, covered in bruises, and without any of her usual meticulous makeup and hair styling. Her stupid pride and condescension made her feel right no matter how she looked.
By the time he came back with a glass, she was scowling and fixing her hair using what looked like a fancy ivory hand mirror sans the actual mirror. She kept squinting at the ivory, attempting to finger comb her hair despite the fact there was no reflection to look at
"Do you have any makeup in this house?"
She took the glass without thanking him, which he just expected, and somehow managed to look refined while nursing it. "Not much unless you like costume makeup."
Pacifica wrinkled her nose like this was somehow a huge offense to nature, and Dipper had to struggle not to smile.
"How are you feeling?" Dipper said as he sit on the edge of his bed.
"Awful. How do you sleep on these mattresses? I'm so stiff." She huffed and puffed and grumbled while she fluffed her pillow and finger combed her hair. Her voice was coming back the more water she drank, but it was wheezy, like someone was still gently choking her. Dipper didn't like it.
"I dunno. You slept for a while." Dipper frowned at her, and she frowned back. The obvious questions hung in the air, but for some reason, they were hard to ask. Dipper decided to ask one of the easier ones first. "Why did you call me up last night? You didn't say you were in trouble or I would've brought my Grunkle."
"Because I wasn't in trouble." Her face darkened as she turned her attention back to the empty ivory frame, but she wasn't fixing her hair anymore. "At least I wasn't when I called you."
She waved the frame at him, and at first he thought that was her way of shutting down the conversation, but she kept talking. "I wanted to show this to you, but I had to break it on my dad's face."
"Your dad?" Dipper's stomach dropped. His throat dried out. "Your dad did this?"
"No," she said sharply, glaring. "Or… yes. But no. It wasn't him." She dropped the frame onto Mabel's blanket. "My dad would never do something that'd leave a mark other people could see."
What?
Dipper's stomach twisted. The way Pacifica and her parents talked to each other always felt a little weird, but he just thought that was rich people stuff. She kept talking, like she hadn't just dropped a bomb on him, like it was normal.
"Something was… this is going to sound so crazy." Pacifica pressed a hand to her temple. "I think he was possessed. He wanted the mirror, and he never called me by my name. He kept calling me 'daughter' or 'llama.'"
Dipper didn't think anything could possibly overshadow the revelation Pacifica dropped on him. He was wrong. His skin went cold. Who liked to possess people and call everyone weird names?
"Did you see his eyes?"
Pacifica looked at him, a strange shudder going over her face. "Yeah. They were yellow cat eyes."
"Oh no." It felt like a weight was pushing on Dipper's chest. Pacifica's nose flared and her teeth clenched as her voice pitched up.
"Who was it?"
Dipper winced. Her voice was like a knife. "Bill Cipher. He's like this demon triangle that makes deals with people so he can possess them."
"You knew about this thing and you didn't tell me?"
"I-I didn't think he'd target you! He's only ever been a problem because he wanted to destroy the journals or when Gideon…" Dipper grabbed his hair and pulled it down. "Oh my gosh, Gideon! Gideon summoned him before to steal from us!"
"Are you telling me that psycho nearly had me killed over a mirror?" Pacifica's face reddened and she spat venom, but perhaps a little too hard, because she immediately burst into a dry coughing fit. That was the first domino, because every cough made her hiss, and her face got red as each spasm knocked wind out of her chest, and her breathing wheezed and thinned and for a second it looked like she might be dying.
Then with a final wheeze, she lay back on the bed, her lips blue and her breathing soft. Dipper scrambled to refill her water glass. He struggled to keep his hands from shaking too much.
"I'm so sorry, Pacifica, I should have thought of this as soon as you told me Gideon was after you, I just never thought—I'm so sorry!"
She waved her hand at him as she started drinking her water again, somehow projecting strength and confidence despite looking tiny and frail cushioned in the bed. "It doesn't matter now. There's something else I need to tell you."
Her voice was softer, raspier. She was losing it again, so Dipper just sat on the edge of Mabel's bed to listen to her more closely.
"The mirror." Pacifica offered it to him. He picked it up, taking the time to look at it a little more closely. Besides the lack of mirrored glass, it looked like it was in pretty good shape, if creepy. Who would want an eyeball with wings made out of more eyeballs on their mirror? "It's magic that Gideon wanted. I found out I could see anyone in it if I just had something of theirs. I saw Mabel."
"Mabel?" Dipper's hands shook. His breathing thinned. "Is she okay?"
"Yes. More than okay."
Dipper let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, leaning against the wall and holding the mirror like a life raft. The world wavered, like all the tension he had been building up for weeks left him without anything to hold him up without it.
A small hand gingerly rested on his arm. When he didn't shake it off, Pacifica squeezed gently.
"She's okay. I saw her in this weird world with musical jellyfish, and she talked this guy she was with into dancing with her."
Dipper let out a laugh that was a little too breathy to be a laugh. "Yeah, she's fine."
She was fine. She was dancing around an alien world, having fun. Of course she was. Mabel was the strongest person Dipper knew. She was okay, and she would be able to stay okay until he figured the portal out. Maybe he could even repair this mirror somehow, or find some other way to contact her.
Pacifica gave him another squeeze before letting him go again. "Something weird happened with the mirror when Mabel and the guy went through another portal. I was pulled in for a second, like I could talk to them and everything. The man said that we had to tear the portal down. He said it was going to end the world."
Dipper froze.
"We need to…" Pacifica stopped, seeing his expression. "Dipper?"
He avoided eye contact, squeezing the mirror.
"You knew," she said.
That protective layer of haughtiness drained away from her face. All that was left was horror. Betrayal, even.
"It's been turned on three times and it hasn't ended the world!" Dipper said quickly, trying to stop her looking at him like that, but that just made it worse. She drew away from him, staring like he was the one who had choked her. "And McGucket is reworking the designs so it's as safe as possible! It'll be fine, I just didn't want to scare you with that stuff."
"That's not true." There wasn't even any haughtiness in her voice. She just sounded young. Pacifica wasn't supposed to sound like that, not ever. "You just knew I might not help you if you were honest."
"I…" Dipper tried to grab something from the air, anything that could make her stop looking like that, to make this better. "I… she's my sister. I need to save her!"
"Oh my God, he was right." Pacifica covered her bruised face with her hands, her chest shuddering. For a terrifying second, Dipper thought she was about to cry, but then her chest stilled and she uncovered her face again, revealing a carefully cool and distant expression. Somehow, that was even worse. "Thanks for taking care of me, but I'm going to go home now."
"What? But you're still hurt!" The weight on Dipper's chest was getting heavier. "Your dad could still be possessed and waiting for you to come back!"
"Northwests don't accept handouts," Pacifica said coldly as she slowly tried to shimmy herself into a sitting position. She was too deliberately collected to give any indication of whether or not it hurt, but sweat was starting to bead her skin the more she tried to move. "I got my family in this mess through my own carelessness, and I'll get it out."
He winced, less and less able to meet her eye as she moved to stand. "Please, Pacifica, I know that you're upset, and I'm sorry that I lied to you, but please just let us help. I don't want you to get hurt."
"You mean you don't want your money cow to disappear?"
Every word was like a rapier. He wanted to protest, to say that her money didn't matter, but it did. He needed it for the portal. But that wasn't the only thing he cared about, was it? At the end of the day, Grunkle Stan could steal the parts they needed, but only Pacifica could make Dipper feel… he didn't know what to call how she made him feel.
She was trying to stand. Her face was cool, but her hairline was sweating from the effort, and he grabbed her wrist. With an outraged huff, she glared at him, and he talked quickly. "I messed up. I did. I shouldn't have lied to you, and I shouldn't have taken advantage of your trust, but I swear, you could never pay another penny and I'd still want you to stay with us while you get better, okay?"
Her cheeks were flushed with outrage. That was better, downright relieving compared to the coldness. "Why are you touching me?"
Dipper's cheeks burned, but he forced himself to swallow and tilted up his chin. "Because friends do that."
She winced, her glare doubling before she yanked her arm out of his grip. "You're not my friend."
That hurt, but he probably deserved it. "Well, you're my friend." Dipper stared at his knees to avoid eye contact. "You're… probably the only friend my age I have now. And I don't want you to get hurt again."
Her shoulders drooped. She wasn't trying to stand up anymore.
After the silence stretched, Dipper let out a deep breath. It seemed like she wasn't going to try to go home.
"The demon said you were lying to me," she said. Dipper's gut jerked. He hated the way Cipher could tell the truth in the worst way. "But before that, the guy Mabel was with said not to trust anyone."
"Not to trust anyone?" Dipper's brow furrowed. His eyes went to his bed, where the author's journal lay under the mattress. "Who was he? Did you recognize him?"
"Something was blocking the mirror. I couldn't see his face." Pacifica held out a hand, spreading out her fingers in the air. "But he was human. He treated Mabel really well and he had six fingers."
Six fingers.
Was this what miracles felt like? The air rushed into Dipper's lungs, and for a moment, his chest felt light. "Oh my gosh." Stanford Pines was alive. Stanford Pines was alive and taking care of Mabel, just like Dipper had hoped. "Oh my gosh, Pacifica, you're amazing!"
He threw her arms around her shoulders, provoking a yelp. He immediately backed off. "Right, ribs, sorry."
Her cheeks and ears were red. He'd seen her blush before, but it was so much more obvious without any makeup on. He liked it. Despite all the awful revelations of the day, he smiled. "I need to tell my Grunkle about this. He's going to be so happy. Just rest for now, okay? I'll come back with something to eat and explain. Yell if you need anything."
He rushed out without giving her time to answer. It was probably best to let her sit and digest anyway.
"We thank you for your patronage! Now remember, buy lots of merchandise!"
His grunkle's voice rumbled through the whole Shack as he sent off another group of tourists. Now was Dipper's chance. He poked his head into the gift shop—bustling with happy tourists as Wendy looked ready to fall asleep at the register and Stan kept his showman grin on.
"Grunkle Stan?"
The showman grin wavered, but only in the eyes. Stan's eyes were warmer than they ever would be for a tourist when he glanced at Dipper. Dipper waved at him, and with a quick nod to Wendy, Stan left the shop to meet Dipper in the kitchen.
"Pacifica's awake."
Stan let out a slow sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping as he leaned on the counter. It was weird to see him slouch in his Mr. Mystery outfit, but that just meant he was wasn't putting on an act. "Good. I was starting to wonder if we'd need to call a hospital. She say who did this to her?"
Dipper grimaced. He was still digesting all the things he heard, including Pacifica's parents. He would have to talk to Stan about it once he gathered his thoughts. Stan was the only one he could think of who might know what to do.
"Bill Cipher. He possessed her dad."
Stan took a deep breath through his nose. "How long you think the triangle can possess people? Longer than a day?"
Dipper shrugged. "I don't know. As long as their body doesn't give out on him. Pacifica said she broke a mirror on his face so Mr. Northwest will need to pass out eventually."
Stan snorted and looked at the ceiling with a smirk. "Nice. Didn't think she had it in her."
"She's good at hitting things. But that's not the important part!" Dipper bounced in place, and Stan looked at him oddly. It took Dipper a moment to realize he was grinning hard enough to hurt his cheeks. "She can't—she had to break it to escape Bill, but that mirror was magic or something. She was able to see Mabel! She's okay!"
Dipper couldn't contain himself. He grabbed Stan's hand, vibrating in place. Stan's mouth fell open. Dipper wasn't sure who was squeezing whose hand, but the grip was so tight that Dipper could barely feel his fingers anymore, and he couldn't bring himself to mind.
"And that's not all!" Dipper's cheeks hurt so much that his eyes watered. "Grunkle Stan, Stanford was with her! They're together! He's alive!"
There was a frozen moment. Stan just stared down at him, brow creased. Dipper's smile faltered. "He's alive," Dipper said again.
Stan slumped back against the countertop, entire body buckling down, and Dipper suddenly had to hold up some of his weight through his hand. "My God."
Stan pressed a hand over his chest. He looked older than Dipper had ever seen, like all the lines had doubled and he was too heavy for himself to carry.
"Grunkle Stan?"
Stan let out a shaky, forced laugh before patting Dipper's head. "Looks like the big guy did you a solid, am I right?" His voice was weak, and that was entirely wrong. Grunkle Stan was many things, always many things, but never weak.
Dipper wondered how he would feel if he had waited thirty years to hear Mabel was okay.
Dipper took a leaf from Mabel's book, because while she wasn't there, someone needed to. He wrapped his arms around his grunkle's waist and rested his cheek on Stan's gut.
"Hey, kid. No need to go soft on me," Stan said as he wrapped one arm tight around him and continued to gently pat him.
Stan would need to go back to touring soon, but Dipper didn't say that. Instead, he just hugged his grunkle, letting himself be squeezed before Stan managed to force another laugh, but this one was full, closer to his usual bark. "Come on. You're being a sap."
He pushed down the bill of Dipper's cap, signaling the end of the hug. Dipper drew back, smiling as he readjusted the hat.
"I don't suppose your friend heard either of them say anything important," Stan said as he brushed himself off and straightened his bowtie. Dipper's face fell. Stan's readjustments paused so he could squint at Dipper.
"Yeah, actually. She said she talked to them for a second. Stanford told her to tear down the portal."
Stan's jaw tightened. The air got thicker. "That wasn't what he said thirty years ago."
The undercurrent of anger—so many feelings that Dipper couldn't hope to name or understand just focusing down into anger—stuck in Stan's voice. Dipper shrugged, biting his lip, helpless to say anything to fix this. What do you say to someone who's spent thirty years trying to save someone who doesn't want saving?
"Mabel's still in there," Dipper finally said.
That broke the spell. Stan's shoulders relaxed as he sighed through his nose. "He'll take care of her, but that doesn't mean he gets to keep her all to himself." He shrugged, going back to readjusting his bowtie, but his motions were slower, less precise, and his face lost some of the brightness it got when Dipper told him his brother was alive. "We're opening that portal. My brother was always pretty dumb for a genius, anyway."
He straightened his back and adjusted his eyepatch. "Well, back to work." He winked at Dipper as he pushed the boy's cap further on his head. "Now we know that Mabel is okay. If Stanford's lived this long, then I'm sure they'll both be fine while we work on this. I'm sure he's got this in the bag."
The constant anxiety that had knotted in Dipper's heart for the last couple weeks eased.
No matter what crazy stuff he'd learned today and the challenges that were clearly ahead, there was only one thing that mattered: Mabel was okay.
Content warning for violence against children.
Thank you to Eregyrn-Falls for betaing this chapter, and for being wonderfully patient as my life runs away with me. Also, thank you to everyone who reviewed. Comments, compliments, and critiques are always warmly welcomed.
For those who don't know, I have a Tumblr called Themadweenmab. I post unbeta'd ficlets, comissions, reblogs, and writing tips I come across, so if that interests you, feel free to follow.