Wow, this chapter took a while! That must mean it's longer than usual and full of deeply emotional and important moments, right?

...Heh. That's a funny question.

[]

"I hate it when boys fight!"

It's a long walk back from the park. Plenty of time to replay what just happened. Over and over. Whether I want to or not.

The truth is, I don't really know where I am with Wendy right now.

Wow, geez, that sounded really arrogant. I mean, I know I'm not- it's not like she- I don't think she even knows, and-

...This is stupid.

I end up wandering the main section of downtown, in the valley of the city. It'd be less than a few blocks by any other city's standards, but here, the streets are so impossibly convoluted that using the term 'block' makes about as much sense as calling the Mystery Shack a 'tourist attraction'.

I don't know where I am with Wendy, because there isn't even a 'me and Wendy' to begin with. There. That's what I was trying to get at.

I'm making my way down one of the sidewalks. Part of me desperately tries to find something, anything interesting in my field of vision- clouds. Stores without any people in them. A newspaper blowing across the road, which is so impossibly cheesy I look again to make sure I didn't imagine it.

My thoughts drift again. What about Robbie? He didn't exactly come out of this ahead, right? She was kinda-sorta a little mad at both of us, so maybe he's just as thrown off as I am. We have this weird agreement right now, so I guess I don't have to worry about fighting any more, but does he still hate my guts? Like, actually-try-to-beat-up-a-twelve-year-old hate?

I mean, I don't think I hate him that much. I was more freaked out than anything.

But... she called us 'her boys', so... we're on the same level? In her mind?

"Hey, dork!"

Panic. Complete panic.

Then a truck with what looks like antlers fastened to the grill rumbles to a stop, and Wendy sticks her head out of the passenger side window, and I realize there's no way I've done anything idiotic in the five minutes since I talked to her. "Need a ride?"

I nervously glance at the hill leading out of the valley. "Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, I was just going back to the Shack, so-"

She grins. "Perfect! My dad's just dropping me off there anyway."

Her dad.

...Right.

"C-cool!" I stammer. She hops out, then opens one of the back doors. Fearing the worst, I cautiously step forward, trying not to let my thoughts get away from me. But what if he somehow knows I like her, or what if he asks me a ton of questions, or what if he just straight-up flattens me, 'cause he totally could, he's huge, I'm pretty sure he's more gorilla than human, and oh no what am I doing-

But when I actually get in the truck, it's worse. Wendy's brothers are huddled on the other seat, piled against the window as if they were in the middle of a full-scale brawl before I showed up. Eyes wide, they're all staring at me in complete silence. I look forward, but Wendy already has headphones in, and her dad's staring straight forward, and I swear he's breathing through his mouth, like he just finished a race or he's about to start something or he's getting ready to murder me.

It's dead silent.

This is so much worse.

Luckily, the ride doesn't last long, and we're back at the Shack after a few minutes. Wendy steps down onto the grass, giving her family an absent thumbs up before they drive off. "Sorry about that. They can be kinda intimidating."

I shudder. "You can say that again."

"Hm." She laughs. "Imagine being on a camping trip with 'em for a whole weekend."

I can't think of anything to say to that. Looking back at me from the steps, she puts up her hands. "Don't get me wrong, I love those guys, but... let's just say I'm glad to be home."

"Yeah," I say. "Hey, uh, speaking of that... When you got back, were you-" I cough, telling myself that this isn't a big deal. "Were you really mad?"

"Huh?" She's confused, but quickly smiles again. "Oh, that? Naw, man, I wasn't angry. I just thought you guys fought each other or something. Crazy, right?"

Before I can answer, she cuts in again. "Oh, shoot, are you okay? I should have asked that a while ago- I mean, obviously you got some pretty good scrapes and stuff, but you're not, like, really hurt, right?"

I nod, suddenly uncomfortable. "Right." I don't know, it's just- it's kind of weird to have her suddenly worried about me. It makes me regret the whole situation even more.

"Good." Looking to the Shack's front entrance, she sighs. "Fights never solve anything, man."

It sort of comes out of nowhere, but she looks pretty serious, so I nod again. Some stray thought tells me to ask her, to get her opinion. "But what if there's someone you just can't, you know, work with?" I don't mean 'work with' like a job, but she gets it. "And you try to meet halfway or whatever, but they still really hate you? I mean, would it maybe... possibly... be okay to fight then?"

Smooth. I'd slap my forehead if she wasn't watching.

Wendy pauses, looking thoughtful. "I guess I don't really know. And I dunno if this is turning into Life Lessons with Wendy or something, but I'd say try everything else first."

It's probably really good advice, but I can't help feeling like it won't help me much. After all, with Robbie, we basically tried fighting first.

"Coming?" I blink, then realize that she's holding the door open.

"Yeah," I mumble. Starting up the steps, I wonder if I'll ever get the hang of this.

Whatever it is.

[]

Somewhere, flaring to life in the recesses of my addled brain, a thought pops up:

How long have I been awake? Durland was taken about twenty-four hours ago, and I sure didn't get any sleep that night. A full day on either side of that, and... thirty-six hours?

No wonder I feel like this. There's exhaustion, yeah, but there's also a weird kind of energy- the nervous, shaking kind that makes me want to-

Fight? Is that what I want?

Ignoring it all, I say it again. "What's in the journal?"

I'm done trying to figure out what Gideon's thinking. He's smiling, but that could mean anything- all I know is, I could have all the righteous anger or whatever in the world, and he would still act like he's in charge.

He doesn't take his eyes off me for a second. "Where's your tall friend, Dipper?"

I slam my fist down on the table. It's quiet. Weak. "We don't have time for this," I say forcefully, or at least I try to. "You were hiding something before. I need to know what's in the-"

"You can't avoid this, boy." He interrupts me in a whisper, without any venom or anger. Just complete assurance that he's right, and that I've somehow failed again.

He knows. He always knows.

"I really am curious, you know. Where is he?" Gideon shakes his head pityingly. "What, did y'all go an' get yerself caught by-"

"He's gone."

He blinks once. I try to still my breathing enough to keep my voice steady. "He's gone, and he's not coming back."

"...Well." Slowly, deliberately, Gideon moves towards the open doorway. "Took the words right outta my mouth, friend."

With a sigh, he reaches up and pushes the door closed. It takes me a moment to realize he might not know what to say next. Maybe he didn't expect me to admit it so quickly.

"Listen, Gideon." Now that my blood isn't boiling and I'm not attacking any buildings, maybe I can reason with him. I scramble, trying to find the right way to explain. "It's just us. And we can't tell anyone else, or more people will be taken, alright?"

He's pacing back across the room. "We can't get help from anywhere," I say urgently. "There's nothing. So if the book says something about this, we have to-"

Gideon stops. "No."

...Whatever I'm feeling, it must show in my expression, because he lifts an eyebrow and continues. "I'm simply not goin' to do that, Dipper. I won't show you anythin'."

He's a child. He's just a kid, waiting and watching to find what makes me mad and then repeating it, over and over, just to see how many times I'll bite, how many times I'll fall for his act, how long before I'll snap and-

"Look at yourself," he drawls. "You're losin' your mind, the people o'this fine town are up and gone, and you have nothin'. Nobody to help you, no way of solvin' this mystery, nothin'. You're no closer to savin' them than that first day."

...No.

No, he doesn't get to say that. It doesn't mean anything. Not from him.

How many times have these words run through my head? I've said them. Robbie has, too. Endless debates, second-guessing and reconsidering until I can't stand my own thoughts anymore. I've gone over every possible angle, every problem and question and riddle and anything else I can think of.

And I'm sick of it.

I've been living a nightmare. I know exactly how badly I've failed.

...And he thinks anything he says can make a difference?

But in spite of myself, I try one more time. "I know," I hiss. "But it's your family, too! Why won't you help? Why don't you even care?"

Just for a moment, I see something. Just an image. Gideon's TV-ready smile, his persona created to stand in front of the spotlights and cameras, an entire character designed to appear and vanish whenever he needs it-

A lie. A mask. As if he's... performing.

Just as quickly, it's gone, and all I can see is his eyes. His stare is just the same as that night, back when he had the magic amulet. Back when he tried to cut out my tongue.

"Oh, Dipper." I can hear it in his voice- the fake pity, the contempt, the sneer that somehow works its way into his speech. "Have I not made it clear enough?"

He steps forward, and now he's glaring up at me, only a few feet away. "I hate your family. I hate your uncle. I hate you. Do you understand, boy? Can you even begin to know how sickening it was t'have t'hide out here with you? How it pained me to listen to your pathetic drivelin' about your precious mysteries?"

The smile is back. "An' how exquisite it was to see you fail. Over an' over again, Dipper, you have lost. An' I haven't decided quite yet, but that may have validated this entire endeavor. Y'see, I don't rightly care what happens to the old man, or even Mother- I will never help you. Not even for 'em, y'hear?"

That's it.

I don't know when exactly it happens- maybe when he's so lovingly describing how much he despises my family, or when he casually disregards his own- but I lose it.

He's on the ground before I know what I'm doing.

...I guess I just punched Gideon Gleeful in the face.