"I can't believe you, Dipper!" My sister swats at me before angrily spinning away. "Don't ever say something like that again!"

Rubbing my arm, I wince. "Look, I'm sorry, but there's no way we'll find him! He could be stuck somewhere, or lost in the woods, or anything else!"

"Are you for serious, bro?" I've never seen her this miserable. She sniffs, wiping the sleeve of her sweater across her eyes. "You actually want to stop looking?"

"Well... no..." I groan in frustration, leaning back against a tree trunk. "But I don't want you to keep getting your hopes up, then being disappointed. The odds of actually finding a pig in a forest this huge- if he's even still al-"

"I told you!" she yells. "I told you not to say that!"

"Right." I hold up my hands. "Sorry. But please, just listen! The odds of finding Waddles are-"

"Dipper." She kneels down in the grass, letting her hair fall in front of her face. "I don't care about the odds, okay? I don't care that it's impossible. I just- I can't. I can't even think about that."

I'm speechless for a second. "Please?" she asks quietly. "Please help me out?"

"Mabel-" I sigh. "We don't have any information. We only have guesses."

She lifts one shoulder, then lets it fall. "Then let's guess."

I smile gently. "Okay." She takes my hand to pull herself up, and we both examine the particular stretch of forest around us.

"So, what do you think?" I ask. She starts stroking her chin, humming as the beginning of a faint smile appears.

"Well, Explorer Dipper, I propose that we climb that tree to increase visibility!"

"That's a good idea, Explorer Mabel." Heck, maybe she won't be so worried about the pig if I play along.

She launches onto the first branch with a determination that I certainly don't feel. I follow nervously, trying not to catch my clothes on any burrs or thorns, while above me, Mabel is already halfway up.

"How's the weather up there, Explorer?" I ask lightly, distracted by a particularly difficult bough that's just out of reach. "Mabel?"

I glance up, and she's already climbed even higher- dangerously high, as the branches are getting smaller and smaller. "Whoa! Mabel, stop! They're not strong enough!"

She sticks out her tongue, but at least she stops climbing. Sighing in relief, I take my time reaching her, finally resting on a branch that's splits into two shoots. "I think... this is... high enough... don't you?" I pant, out of breath from the climb.

"Hm? Yeah, yeah," she mutters, scanning the ground below us.

I pause. "Look, Mabel, I know you really want to find him. But I think we should go back."

Saying nothing, she pointedly turns her back to me, still looking over the areas around our tree. "Stan's gonna be worried, and we're already later than we said we'd be. Can't we just, I don't know, look some more tomorrow?"

She turns. "Dip, I'm gonna find him. Stop worrying."

Frowning, I shake my head. "I get it, alright? Waddles is great, and I'm really sorry that he's lost, but we can't just wait forever. We don't have any proof that he's even out here anymore."

She scowls darkly, and I backtrack. "Uh, I mean he might be somewhere else! You know, in town, or rummaging through someone's trash!"

"No. He's here. I know it."

I try again. "I know it's tough. But we can't just blindly keep going, hoping against hope that he's gonna be fine! It doesn't always work that way, and-"

Her squeal of joy nearly knocks me off the branch. "I SEE HIM! I see Waddles!" Before I know it, she's scrambling back down, and it's all I can do to keep up.

Back on the ground, she sprints through a series of bushes, practically colliding with her pet before the two of them roll over in the grass. "Waddles! I'm never ever gonna stop holding onto you! I'll carry you everywhere and keep you safe and everything will just be the best!"

At the base of the tree, I brush the dirt off of my hat and watch Waddles cover Mabel's face with licks, her giggling the whole time. My twelve-year-old mind is working furiously, trying to assess the logic in this.

Wasn't I... right? If Waddles had stayed missing, or worse, it would have looked like I was right. But for some reason, standing here, seeing my sister so full of joy, I'm starting to think that maybe it doesn't matter if I'm right.

[]

Gideon's eyes go wide, and he musters up his best, made-for-TV smile. "Why, Dipper! I'm jes' ever so glad that you're okay!"

"No, you're not," I mutter as I brush past him. I ingloriously heave myself onto Robbie's couch, exhausted from the day's events.

Still standing in the doorway, he drops the act and shrugs. "Fair 'nuf."

There's an awkward silence as I stare up at the ceiling. The living room's ceiling fan is missing a blade; with every spin, the center wobbles back and forth. "I don't mean to pry," Gideon calls from across the room, "an' in any other circumstances, I could not be more disinterested in the goings-on of your life, but..."

I sit straight up. "No. No way. I'm not talking about this with you."

"That's jes' the thing, boy." He grins, waddling over. "I think I already know. An' may I add, it was positively a delight to see you in hysterics."

"Shut up." I have my hands pressed against the sides of my head, as if I can block out his voice. It doesn't work.

"You're not only scared you might fail." He's louder now, and if I had my eyes open, I'm sure I'd see him smirking. "No, 's more than that- you're scared that there's jes' no way forward, isn't that right?"

I try to calm down. I remind myself that I have NEVER cared what Gideon thinks of me, and I'm not about to start.

"Face it, Dipper!" he yells. "You can't handle this- an' you jes' proved it!"

A growl's rising in my throat, and I leap off the couch. This time, I'm the one swinging, and my fist barely misses his face when he dodges out of the way. He rushes forward, his head colliding with my shoulder, and I fall backwards. He's smiling again, but the look isn't angry or wild. He just looks satisfied, like... everything's going according to plan.

What on earth?

Just before I crash into him again, the door opens. We both blink stupidly at Robbie, who's watching us with one eyebrow raised. "Um..." He rolls his eyes, slamming the door behind him. "Cool it, short stuff."

As he walks past us, Gideon scowls and tries to straighten his hair. "He's talkin' t' you," he sneers.

Without looking back, Robbie shakes his head. "Both, actually." Sighing, he sits down on the couch. "If you can stop trying to kill each other for a second, we need to talk."

Gideon seems to change moods in an instant, falling into a stuffed easy chair with a carefree smile. "Oh, goody. Another talk. Hey Dipper, maybe if y'look out the window again, you'll see someone else pop right outta their car!" He snaps his fingers loudly.

I remain standing, crossing my arms and doing my best to ignore a brief shiver. "About what?" I ask Robbie.

He rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. "First of all- I told my dad and Blubs everything we know." He turns to Gideon, adding, "Oh yeah- we talked to the crazy guy. He thinks he saw someone, moving around and everything."

He isn't being sarcastic, but it's still a shock to hear it like this. That's... really all we know. Everything we got out of today.

Gideon's examining the far wall, deep in thought. "They're gonna start a town-wide search tomorrow, for the others," Robbie continues. "If it doesn't get anywhere, we'll try to get more from McGucket. For now, though, he's too unreliable."

"And?" Gideon has his hands pressed together, fingers splayed upward like a businessman considering an offer. "What else?"

He's startled, but he recovers quickly. "W-well, that's what we know. And we need to figure out what to do next." Turning to me, he nods. "Unless you've got something?"

I shake my head. Of course I've been thinking about it, but so far... what do I really have? The only thread I've even started to put together is that maybe there's a pattern in the people that have vanished. But even that's not helping- what did McGucket and the tourist have in common, anyway? Nothing at all.

So... maybe it's not how they're alike. Maybe it's how they're different.

As I'm thinking over this new idea, Gideon is lazily turning over in the chair, so that he's completely upside-down. "Forgive me if I'm not flabbergasted by your research-gatherin' prowess, my friends, but that's not exactly- how shall I say- useful."

He starts kicking the top of the cushion, leaving his powdered hair to brush against the carpet. "Course it is," Robbie says indignantly. "We know a heck of a lot more now; they're in a specific place, that you can get in and out of. Plus, someone's doing this on purpose."

That one hits. I cough into my elbow, trying to disguise the shudder that runs through me. Out in the open, the idea somehow sounds a lot darker, even though Robbie said it so casually. What if there really is someone out there, specifically hunting people down?

Before I can worry any more, Gideon lets out a high-pitched giggle. "So now you're trustin' the town lunatic!" He swings himself back up, and his laugh grows until he's practically gasping for breath. "Are- are y'all even tryin' to think this through? You've got nothin'!"

Robbie glares at him. "Look, I don't know if you're getting this. People are missing. Being logical and normal hasn't worked, all right? Maybe it's time to be a little paranoid."

Their argument continues, but my mind is on something else. If there's an actual person doing this- not worrying about the how yet- then it would make sense that there's a pattern.

I'm close, I'm so close to something, but I don't know what. Not the answer, maybe, but just a step closer.

An idea jumps into my mind, and I blurt it out without thinking. "What if it's a message?"

They both stop, almost mid-sentence, staring. Oh well. Might as well keep going. "If the old man's right, there's someone behind this," I say slowly. "They're thinking, and we can assume they have a plan."

Gideon smirks. "Well, that's a bit of a stretch-"

"Shut up," Robbie says automatically, still watching me with a frown.

I point to Gideon. "Earlier, you said... you said it could be some kind of countdown. We have the books, and we-" Mind racing, I try to reclaim the thought. "Why didn't they take us? Obviously they can; we saw them take somebody in broad daylight. So why not us?"

Gideon tries to interject, but I'm in full-blown detective mode now, pacing the room and gesturing with my arms. "And besides, if it's that easy to make someone disappear, why didn't they just grab McGucket again, right after he escaped? I think they don't actually need him; they're trying to tell us something. Us, specifically. There's gotta be something about McGucket and that tourist guy. Do we-" I vaguely throw my hands up. "Do we know anything about him?"

Robbie rubs his eyes. "Well, no one knew him. It was his first day, right? And no one really knows much about McGucket, either. Maybe it's just people who wouldn't be missed."

Gideon is shaking his head in disbelief, but I ignore him. "I don't think so. Stan's pretty famous, and everyone knows Gideon's parents."

Nodding, Robbie seems just as focused as I am. "Alright, what about the old man? What do we know?"

Frustrated, I run my hand through my hair. "Um, he lives in the dump. He's crazy, or at least acts like it. Like you said, no one knows much about him, but everyone seems to know of him- the guy's probably lived in this town longer than-"

That's it.

For just a second, the three of us are completely silent.

I glance over to Gideon, eyes wide. "I'd bet you the Shack right now that McGucket's lived in Gravity Falls longer than anybody else."

He sighs irritably. "Wouldn' that be nice. But I'm afraid I'm not seein' the point."

Before I can explain, Robbie does. "The tourist had only been here a day." In wonder, he looks up at me. "He'd been here the shortest amount of time."

I'm practically shaking with excitement. "Old and new. That's gotta be it; they're opposites."

Robbie's usual scowl has been replaced with the slightest smile. Grinning like a fool, I turn to Gideon, who's looking at the ceiling. "You really think that's the connection?" he says stubbornly. "I mean, one of 'em was in a suit, and the other was smelly. Could be anythin'."

Grunting, Robbie shakes his head. "No, I think he's right. Even if it's a coincidence, it's too important to ignore." He nods at me briefly. "Good job, kid."

At that moment, the smallest memory springs up in the back of my mind. Stan, laughing and ruffling my hair while I complain and try to scramble away. Wendy, lazily offering me a high-five. Soos, clapping my shoulder and telling me some dumb joke. My sister, hopping up and down and cheering.

I blink. "Thanks."

[]

Robbie's house has a much better view than the Shack. Our sky is mostly blocked by the forest, but here I can see thousands of stars, glittering and shining against the deep black of galaxies and light years. It's beautiful, but somehow intimidating.

I'm sitting on the porch steps when Robbie slinks out the front door. "Couldn't sleep?"

I nod. He mumbles an agreement, dropping down next to me. We're quiet for a while, taking in the Oregon air and faint insect noises.

"Listen, don't let that punk get to you." He leans back, resting his hooded head against the side of the house.

"Yeah." My voice must waver or something, because he glances over, irritated.

"You know we're gonna find them, right?"

I can't answer. He sighs, looking back up at the sky. After a pause, he says quietly, "It's like when you were having that panic attack."

Surprisingly, the mention doesn't affect me this time. "When I told you everything was gonna be fine, you didn't have a reason to believe me. But eventually, you just... did. Even without proof."

I wrap my arms around my knees. "How is this the same?" I ask bitterly. "We might never see them again."

He shrugs. "I guess. We don't have proof that they're safe, or somewhere we can find, or even alive."

Shocked, I turn to stare at him. He doesn't blink, doesn't look away from the night sky. "But they are."

A shooting star blazes silently across the heavens. The breeze slips past, ruffling my vest and causing me to fold my arms.

I take a deep breath. "I actually wanted to ask you about that."

"Shoot." He shuts his eyes.

"Back at the Diner, when I was... you know," I say quietly. "How'd you-"

A scraping, grating sound makes me jump. Robbie bolts up, staring back toward the house. "That's- that's the window," he says, more to himself than anything. Eyes wide, he darts to the door.

By the time I make it in, he's already flipped the lights on, and the entryway is empty. Gideon stumbles through the hallway, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "What's goin' on? You hear somethin'?"

"I- yeah," I say, distracted, trying to figure out which way Robbie went. I check the bedrooms along the hall, but every bed is empty, and I don't see anything-

Every bed is empty. Oh no.

I find Robbie's in his dad's room, staring vacantly out the window.

This can't be happening. Part of my mind stubbornly insists that they were supposed to follow the pattern.

"I didn't see them," he whispers. "I didn't see him when he..."

He numbly reaches forward, closing the window. As it slides down, it scrapes loudly against the frame, finally falling into place.

I struggle to find my voice. "I'm sorry."

He turns, a blank look on his face. "It's- it's okay," he says quietly. I can hear the shaking in his words. "It's like I said. We'll find them." It's barely more than a whisper.

I desperately try to avoid thinking about it, the way I know he's feeling right now. I bow my head, turning to leave the room.

A figure is standing in the doorway.

Silhouetted against the hallway's light, I only have time to make out a few details before the creature swings its arm, knocking me to the ground. This person- if it even is one- is wearing a dark gray sweatshirt, hood pulled low to obscure its face, and I can barely see it in the shifting light. It strides purposefully across the room, and I raise my head to see Robbie ball his hands into fists.

"What, me?" He calls, blinking back tears. "You wanna take me too, you freak?!"

The hooded shadow flicks its hand out. Something slides into its open palm, and it raises its arm high, about to strike.

Something clicks in my head. I have no reason to think the idea will work. No proof. Just... a guess.

I run forward, pulling the journal out of my vest pocket.

The form hesitates, glancing back at me with its hidden face.

With all my might, I swing the book like a baseball bat. It connects with the creature's midsection, and it stumbles back, dropping the object to the floor. Robbie seizes his chance, grabbing the figure from behind and, turning, slamming it into the wall.

"What do you want, huh?!" he yells, pinning its wrists against the frames of the window. "What is it you want?"

I don't know how to describe what happens next. I can see Robbie, physically holding onto the shadow's wrists, grabbing the fabric of the sweatshirt just below its gloved hands. Suddenly, the whole thing goes limp, and Robbie's simply holding the flat piece of cloth.

Just like that. It's gone. As if the thing just fell backwards, or passed through the window or something.

I'm staring out the window at the faint starlight, but I can hear Robbie's choked sobs as he falls onto the bed, hurling the sweatshirt to the ground.

The exhaustion of the day seems to hit me all at once. I don't even have the energy to be shocked, or angry, or even to say something. Instead, I just kneel down, examining the object the shadow dropped. Even as I pick it up, the metallic circle seems to crumble, all but dissipating silently. Before long, there's only a streak of gray in my hand.

"Here." I look up to see Robbie, eyes red but dry, holding the sweatshirt out in front of him. "It's a clue, I guess," he mutters, voice breaking.

It's heavy, but seems to be a normal piece of clothing. One of the folds seems to have some kind of pale yellow line drawn in.

Trembling, I turn it over. Once the sweatshirt is spread out, I can see the symbol etched onto the back.

It's a triangle.

[]