I'm shaking, huddled against the wall, looking up at the sky. It's getting darker. This pit is small, only a few yards wide, but it's deep, probably ten or twelve feet. Too deep for me to just climb out; the dirt walls are smooth, hardened and leveled by years and years. That didn't stop me from trying.

I've heard about this, though. The journal says that hunters used to dig these pits to trap bears and wolves.

Yeah. Just... keep thinking about that. Saves me from the creeping, growing terror that tells me I can't get out.

I was in the woods, further than I've ever explored. I fell. And now, I'm here, and I can't get out. Can't get out.

And... I'm thinking about it. I shiver, locking my arms around my knees. What was I thinking? I didn't take a phone with me, or anything. I didn't even tell Stan where I was going; heck, I didn't know myself.

Don't think about how cold it's getting. Or the dark.

What if I die?

It's overreacting. It's paranoid, jumping to conclusions. But it's impossible to get out of my head.

A shiver goes through me, over my shoulders, my spine, my back. I jump up. Have to move. Have to do something. The walls are completely flat. There's nothing on the floor. I'm looking around wildly, not seeing anything I haven't already gone over a dozen times.

I don't wipe the tears out of my eyes. That would mean admitting to myself that I'm crying. Instead, I face the sky again. Jump.

My hand doesn't even come close to reaching the edge. I growl. Try again.

Again. The pain in my fingers tells me they're bleeding, but I can't see it through the streaks of dirt. Again.

The sky is taunting, so near but not enough. Again.

There's a twinge of pain in my left ankle. Almost by reflex, I pull back, just before I land. The imbalance causes me to crash to the dirt, landing heavily on my side.

I don't think anything's broken. Wincing, I stand up slowly. At least I can..

...

What can I do?

There's nothing. It hits me all at once, the thought I've been holding back all this time. There is nothing I can do.

The fear is overwhelming, driving me back to the ground, where I hold my head in my hands. Sound is escaping my mouth, but I know it's not a cry for help. Just pathetic sobbing.

Why am I so weak? So scared?

"...Dipper?"

Everything stops. I'm frozen, not daring to look back up.

Silence. I wonder if I imagined it. If my brain is playing some kind of cruel joke. Unable to bear it, I turn my gaze to the top of the pit.

Wendy's here. She's here. Just staring down, eyes wide, not saying anything.

I should be happy, laughing, excited, but instead I'm numb when she lowers down a tree branch. I'm completely silent as she struggles to lift me out of the pit. I can't even force myself to smile when I'm back on the forest floor.

Breathing hard, she's looking at me with concern. "Dip? You okay?"

With a start, I realize she can see my face. Everything- the tears, the dirt- is completely out in the open. She can see it all, that I fell, that I couldn't get out on my own, that I was a stupid, terrified, helpless little kid.

My face is burning. And to think- I wanted to impress her.

"C'mon, man, say something!"

I can't. This is too much; she shouldn't have to save me. I should be stronger. I shouldn't need help.

She's... hugging me.

My face is buried in her shoulder, and before I know it, I'm crying again. There's no embarrassment or panic over being this close to her- just a quiet rush, like everything spinning through my mind earlier is finally out, and it's comforting.

"It's okay, dude. You're okay." She awkwardly pats my back, before leaning back and looking me over for injuries. "You're not hurt, right?"

"Y-yeah." I'm looking down, still avoiding her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

The words won't come. For a moment, I'm just standing there, wiping the grime from my face. "You had to save me."

"Yeah, but..." Understanding dawns in her eyes, and she frowns. "Hold up. You're apologizing for that?"

I nod, trying to keep from blushing in shame again. "Honestly, I'm just- I'm too weak." The words sound pathetic and whining, but I keep going. "I always need someone to bail me out, and I'm sorry."

Silence. I'm still sniffing, head bowed.

"Dip. Hey. Look at me." I tilt my head up, and Wendy's frowning slightly again, leaned in closer. "Listen, man. Helping people, it's not- I dunno, it's just..."

Frustrated, she rubs her forehead. "It's weird, man. But stop thinking like that, alright? You're not weak for needing help."

I try to disagree, but she cuts me off. "That's just something friends do, you know? Heck, that's just what people do."

She lightly punches my shoulder, with a small smile. "So don't be so hard on yourself, bud."

I nod, trying to wipe my eyes for good this time. She extends a hand, helping me stand back up. "Hey, Wendy?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you, just, uh," I'm stammering, and I'm sure my face is probably red again. "Maybe not, you know-"

"Hey." She holds up her hand, quickly swiping her fingers in front of her lips in a zipper motion.

I smile. "Thanks."

[]

Everything's spinning. I can see grass, trees, sky, all swirling together. I'm being carried, but it hurts. Hurts to breathe. Hurts to move.

The panic's still there, and suddenly I'm tensed up. My brain knows someone's trying to help, but it's getting drowned out by this feeling, the sensation that I'm trapped.

He vanished. I saw it happen. And now all I can think about is that car, that door, he's GONE and they're all gone-

My arm jerks forward, involuntarily slamming into the shoulder of the person carrying me.

"Ow! What the-" I'm dropped, landing on grass and tumbling forward. Try to stand up. Try to get up. Try to move at all.

I can't. I'm shuddering again, curled up into myself on the ground. It hasn't stopped. Breathe. Breathe.

"Kid!" Who's... Robbie? Robbie's here, leaning down. "Look, just- try to slow it down, alright?"

Slow down? What's it mean? I'm breathing shallower, faster, and I keep tensing and relaxing my hands around clumps of grass.

"It's okay, kid." I'm suddenly terrified he might touch me again, and that panic could come back, but he doesn't. He's just kneeling down, hands on his head, trying to look like he's not worried. "Just breathe. It's okay."

I'm violently shaking my head, opening my mouth, trying to say something. "Listen!" he yells suddenly. "This can't hurt you!"

He's wrong, he's wrong and I know he's wrong, and my throat's burning, and everything hurts. "Dipper, listen." He moves closer, head almost touching the dirt like mine is. "I know it's hard. I know it feels real, but this can't kill you. You'll be okay."

The fear is still pressing in, but I latch onto his words, and they echo in my mind, growing louder and louder. "You're okay," he repeats. "Just breathe."

Some part of me fights back, and I'm shivering even more, closing my eyes. "He's gone," I choke out. "I saw-"

"Don't think about it, alright?!" He's almost shouting now. "Something else! Anything!"

I can see Wendy, pulling me out of the pit. Stan's lazily flipping through the channels. Soos is climbing into his old pickup. Mabel's throwing a video game controller into the air, yelling in mock anger.

"Just breathe," he says quietly. "It's okay."

...Air.

In, out.

Gradually, slowly, it's easier. My limbs start to relax, and I'm able to let my head fall onto the soft grass.

It still hurts, and the fear is still there, but I'm starting to get stronger. I'm breathing deeply, not moving while the dizziness passes.

Robbie sighs. "...Alright." He sits down, folding his arms over his knees.

I'm finally able to see where we are, painfully lifting myself off the ground. We're far from the diner, on a small hill overlooking the forest. It seems he wasn't really taking me anywhere in particular. Just... away from the diner.

He coughs. "You good?"

Sitting down, I nod, trying to find my voice again. "Y-yeah. Why'd you come back?"

Grunting, he shakes his head. "Those idiots had no idea what to do. Figured I should try to help out myself." He looks back over, and I can see the concern in his expression. "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Then I gotta ask, kid." He scowls, turning away but still addressing me. "What was that all about?"

I can think about it now, without the fear rushing back. "I hadn't seen it before." He doesn't blink, and I turn away, finding it easier to look out over the trees. "At the Shack, I mean. I didn't actually see it. They were just... missing."

Robbie doesn't say anything. "This time, he was right in front of me."

He snorts. "So, you're traumatized. Whatever."

It's so unexpected that I'm not even mad right away. I'm staring at him, mouth hanging open, while he continues. "Look, it's screwed up. I get it." He scoffs, pulling up his hood. "But come on, kid. We found a ghost. A ghost. I've seen you fight monsters and all that, but you're telling me that this is worse?"

Before I know it, I'm standing, glaring down at him. "Yeah. Yeah, it's worse." I press both hands against the sides of my head, gritting my teeth. "You weren't watching, man. He was there, and then he wasn't. He might be dead."

He stands too, nodding. "Look, I know-"

"No, you don't!" I shove him, swinging both hands into his chest. "You don't know, alright?!"

He stumbles back, shocked. I'm breathing more heavily, but at least I'm breathing, and the anger feels good. "They could ALL be dead! And I have no idea how to get them back!"

For a second, he's speechless, and I look back at the ground, feeling the adrenaline dissipate. "...That's why we're here," he says quietly. "To figure out a plan. To start thinking, instead of just waiting around for someone else to go."

I keep my eyes on the grass, knowing I couldn't possibly say this to his face. "I can't."

"What?" His voice is still quiet, but now there's an edge.

"I can't do it." I try to yell, but my voice breaks, and it comes out sounding weak. Pathetic.

"This is you, Dipper." It's strange to actually hear him say my name. "You're always talking about mysteries and whatever. Secrets. Exploring. You have to try."

I'm not crying this time, but the shame is just as strong. "Doesn't matter." I shake my head slowly. "I can't do it without them. Mabel, she'd always help- and Soos-"

I stop, looking back up at Robbie. "What if Gideon's right? What if there's nothing we can do?"

His expression is completely blank, and he doesn't say anything. "I can't figure this out on my own," I finish.

"...You punk." He says it quietly, without raising his voice at all, but the disappointment is obvious.

"Look, I'm sorry-"

"No." He sneers, taking a step towards me. "I always knew you were a brat. Annoying. Whining. But I figured, you're just a punk kid. Whatever."

He's standing over me, glaring almost straight down. "But I never thought you'd give up."

I'm stuttering, trying to say something. "How much do they mean to you, kid? You really gonna say that they're not worth it? That you're just too scared?!"

My words are stuck in my head. I can't defend this. He's glaring now, voice dangerously low. "So do it. You wanna give up? Give up, then. I freaking dare you."

Almost trembling, he turns, walking a short distance away, and I'm left with my head in my hands.

My thoughts are out of control. Everything he said, everything I did, it's all spinning together, and there's only one thing I can focus on clearly.

Sometimes, we just need someone to save us.

I was so close. I almost gave up completely.

I take a deep breath. Approaching Robbie again, I notice he's on his cell phone, listening while a surprised look settles on his face.

"We'll be there." He snaps it shut, sliding the phone into his pocket. He stares me down. "Well?"

All the shame, all the anger at my own weakness is still clamoring for my attention. I do my best to ignore it.

I won't give in. Not to fear, not to self-pity, and not to despair. It doesn't matter how dark it gets.

I look Robbie in the eye. "It won't happen again."

He nods. "Good." Glancing in the direction of the diner, he sighs. "That was my dad. You remember that crazy old guy?"

"McGucket?" I raise my eyebrows. "Did he disappear too?"

"Yeah." Robbie crosses his arms. "At least, that's what he's telling people."

A few seconds pass before I realize the implications of that sentence. "You mean-"

He nods. "Apparently... he came back."

[]