Chapter 41

Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me.

"What are you kids making?" Stan mumbled blearily, rubbing his eyes as he entered the kitchen, the smell of eggs and bacon wafting to his nose. He replaced his glasses and blinked a couple of times when he didn't receive an answer. As his eyes adjusted, he realized the one at the stove wasn't Dipper or Gideon, but Fiddleford. He wore Stan's permanently stained apron, removing slices of bacon from the frying pan, and onto a plate beside the stove. The ex-curator glanced up and his lips began to creep upwards, into a sincere smile. "What the hell?"

Fiddleford's smile dropped and he raised an eyebrow. "You know, the polite way to greet one when you wake up is a simple 'good morning'."

Stan approached him, observing the wry expression, realizing it was exactly as the one he had witnessed several times when he was younger. His lips twitched, attempting to suppress his smile. "You're different than yesterday."

"Well, my mind feels clearer than it has been for almost 40 years..." A frown. "Though I feel as though certain aspects in my mind are complete blanks. Perhaps my mind has trapped certain events in my mind, in order to protect my recently recovered sanity."

"Wait, what?"

The ex-curator rolled his eyes. "My brain is likely hiding certain memories from me, so that I don't return to my previous state."

Stan's eyes averted away, feeling guilt about hiding the truth of what occurred last night to him. He could never reveal what truly occurred, for fear of the state his best friend could possibly return to. "Yeah, probably."

Fiddleford turned off the stove, unaware of Stan's nervous behavior. He supposed after all the years the two friends had been apart, Fiddleford had forgotten how the elder Pines naturally behaved. Stan never forgot how his friend was though. He had been haunted by it for decades. "Anyways, perhaps one of us should wake the children, so they can have some of the breakfast I made."

Stan felt himself finally smile. If Fiddleford was better off in this state, he supposed this was the first and possibly the last moment he felt grateful that Bill Cipher was involved in his life.

~!15-14-5/15-6/20-8-5/5-12-14-5-18/16-9-14-5-19/20-23-9-14-19/23-9-12-12/14-15-20/19-21-18-22-9-22-5!~

"You ready, Fiddles?" Stan peeked into his bedroom, revealing Fiddleford McGucket tying the laces of his pair of oxfords. He glanced up from his shoes, his walnut colored turtleneck hanging off of his frame, the left sleeve creeping slightly off his shoulder. As the ex-curator opened his mouth to reply, Stan felt himself snicker, receiving a scowl from the other. "Your stupid sweater is so big on you, that you look like a kid!"

"It's a turtleneck for your information and I would appreciate you ceasing your jests!" He stood from the edge of Stan's bed, the turtleneck appearing to swallow him whole, causing Stan to release a chuckle at the sight. Fiddleford rolled his eyes. "Still as immature as ever I see. What next? The McSuckit jokes making a reappearance?"

"I can't make those jokes anymore, Fiddles, because you're too old to get any action wit-"

"Goodbye, Stanford." He shoved past him, causing Stan's grin to widen at the familiar action. This had been a common occurrence throughout their younger years. Typically Stan would offend him or simply get on his nerves enough, that Fiddleford would storm away, fuming about how 'irresponsible' and 'juvenile' the Pines brother was.

"Come on, Fiddles," The elder Pines chuckled, following Fiddleford down the hallway. "You know I'm only messing around, right?"

"After all these years, you expect me to believe that? Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. Good god, this is almost like the night you got drunk in the summer and wouldn't stop laughing about your own idiotic jokes." The pair went down the stairs, Stan bursting into laughter at the memory, as they did so.

"Grunkle Stan?" Dipper appeared from the living room, frowning in confusion at his great-uncle. Gideon was beside him, awkwardly watching on, as Stan wailed with laughter. "What happened?"

"It's nothing worth retelling, Dipper. It's simply your uncle being foolish, as per usual." The ex-curator sighed out.

"That's nothing new." The brunet answered, as Stan recalled that night. He remembered his brother telling him he couldn't hold his own liquor, if his life depended on it. He obviously took that as a challenge and began to chug the bottle of whiskey before their horrified eyes. They had attempted to wrestle it from his hands, but he was stronger than the pair, and ended up drinking the entire bottle in one go. Within minutes, the inappropriate variations of Fiddleford's name began and him laughing hard enough that he nearly threw up the alcohol several times that night. He endured hell the next morning, being horribly hungover, but he thought it was worth it. He paused in his laughter for a moment, as Dipper continued to speak to his best friend. "One night...Mabel...Mabel and me were coming back, after hanging out with Wendy, and he had spent five hours hiding underneath the cupboards in the kitchen, to scare us, but he ended up getting stuck, and we had to call the police, because we couldn't get him out ourselves."

As Fiddleford began to chuckle, Gideon covering his mouth to stifle his own giggles, Stan's laughs died off, and he glared menacingly at his grand-nephew. Dipper's smile dropped, staring in silent horror, as Stan slid his index finger across his own throat, threatening him. The brunet knew a punishment would be received later, for breaking his promise of never telling the story to anyone, and needed to fix his mistake immediately. "Ohhhh, I just remembered, that was a dream! That didn't actually happened! Yep, totally not real!"

Before he could answer, the doorbell rang, silencing them all. Fiddleford nodded to the younger pair, as he lifted a suitcase, that had been placed by the front door an hour prior, full of the meager items he possessed at the moment. "Well, that's likely Tate...it's been a pleasure to be able to discuss the supernatural with someone that actually wishes to, Dipper."

"I kind of know the feeling. Mabel never got all excited to talk about the journal, like I can with you, Mr. McGucket." Dipper replied, stepping forward to receive a brief hug from the elder man.

Fiddleford frowned and released the 13-year-old. "Dipper...did we...did we...by any chance, did we ever go to the local museum together?"

The younger Pines' eyes widened, realizing he didn't remember the trip to the museum, when they had defeated the Society of the Blind Eye. He stared beyond Fiddleford, making eye contact with his great-uncle. Should he mention what had occurred? The elder Pines shook his head and Dipper bit his lip, before replying. "We went once, because you thought you had worked there, before you remembered."

"Oh...hmmm, I don't seem quite able to recall that. Did anything unfortunate occur?"

"No. You just kept staring at stuff and muttering at yourself." Dipper lied automatically.

The ex-curator shrugged after a moment. "Well, no matter. It must of not have been too imperative to remember then."

"Guess not..."

The elder man turned to Gideon, taking note of the shy expression he received to his gaze. He squatted down, joints creaked in protest, in order to be eye-level with the 11-year-old. "It was a pleasure to meet you-well, meet you as Fiddleford McGucket, and not Old Man McGucket. I hope to see you in the future as well, Gideon."

Gideon felt a blush dust his cheeks, embarrassed by his past actions to him. The freckled boy was aware that he treated several citizens rudely, as his time being influenced by Jill Rephic. It seemed as though the elder man had forgiven him, at least for what he had remembered of him. He supposed that would be enough though and nodded at Fiddleford. "I-It was good t-to m-meet you, t-too, M-Mr. M-McGucket..."

He pulled himself up, turning to Stan, a feeling of confidence welling up inside him. He extended his hand, to shake Stan's. "Thank you, Stanford, for allowing me to momentarily live in t-"

"Seriously? We're long past that, Fiddles, come here." Stan rolled his eyes, bringing him in for a crushing hug, as Fiddleford released a gasp of surprise at the movement.

Fiddleford felt himself relax, wrapping his arms around his friend's back. He thought about the last time he had seen his friend, but it seemed to be filled with a haze of fog. He could remember working in a convenience store, after becoming too unstable to be the museum's curator, and that there was a brief arugement. He felt as though pieces were missing in his mind. He decided to focus on the last embrace he had with his friend, before their friendship fell apart. Stan had been screaming in the middle of the library at a stranger, when he came along with him, so he could do research on supernatural events. The man, appearing Hispanic, had been quite alarmed when Stan began spewing Spanish at him. Fiddleford had learned a few phrases and words, in order to understand what Stan would say, during his...episodes? Flashbacks? He had never been sure what they had been, but he had gotten used to them after awhile. Fiddleford had to forcefully remove his friend from the library and when they had gotten into his car, he had completely broken down. Fiddleford hugged him, the last time he had seen an episode, until Stan had returned to his senses. This hug though, wasn't full of desperation, but full of care from him. "Thank you, Stan."

"Your welcome, Fiddleford," They pulled apart and Stan finally swung open the door. Tate impatiently stood on the porch, arms crossed over his chest. When he realized the door had been open, he appeared hesitant. The elder Pines nodded in his direction. "Tate."

"Stan," He nodded back, before observing his father, who had stepped out. "Dad."

"Hello, Tate," Fiddleford bit his lip, before reaching to to touch his son's shoulder, rubbing gently. "You've grown up."

"I grew up a long time ago...though I guess you don't remember." Tate answered, sounded offended, though he didn't shove off the hand. Stan knew from past experience that his best friend's son didn't always mean what he seemed to and he suspected this was one of those moments.

"I...I'm sorry...I, well, I remember trying to talk to you a few times over the years and you being...embarrassed by my behavior, but...the last time I really remember seeing you was when...when you were just a boy." His son finally reached out, embracing his father, in a hug of desperation. He knew it to be desperation, because Stan had clung to him in the same manner before. The only difference was, it was desperation for the years the father and son had missed.

"I'm glad you're back." Tate muttered, hands squeezing the back of the material of his turtleneck.

"I'm grateful to be back." He felt his tears well with tears, as he realized for the first time in years he could finally be to make up the lost years and bond with his grown son. "I-I love you."

"I love you, too, Dad." He muttered back, tears welling in his own eyes.

Stan lingered in the doorway, observing how the pair embraced and the whispering to one another. He reached down to Dipper, tugging on the back of his collar. The brunet appeared surprised, stumbling backwards into him, before glancing upwards. Gideon noticed what had occurred, but seemed to understand before his friend did. Stan jerked a thumb over his shoulder, before Dipper finally understood. The pair nodded and allowed themselves to be ushered inside the Mystery Shack by the elder Pines. Stan had a feeling he wouldn't see Fiddleford for quite awhile after that day.

~!-?-!~

Fiddleford had been a momentary distraction, for his anguish he felt in his heart. His brother, the one he had dedicated his entire life to, and his grand-niece, the light of his life, had been brought to the dreamscape, and once they reached the Nightmare Realm, they would succumb to the horrors they faced, and become demons. And he had no way to rescue them by himself. He simply had to await the moment Bill Cipher decided the wheel had reached it's destination and allow them to travel there. In what matter, concerned him the most, but now he had become overcome with despair. "God, Lee, why'd it have to be you?"

He held his face in his hands, fighting the urge to head to the grocery store, and buy himself the strongest whiskey they had. He knew he needed to fight that urge though, or he would head down that dark and dangerous path he had already dragged himself from. He couldn't do that again, especially since Dipper and Gideon needed the elder man to be there for them. Instead, he lifted himself up from his bed, and approached his record player. Stan didn't have the courage to place the needle on the record, that he had already placed there. He did now though, the disc spinning in circles as it played. The beat began, before the familiar words of The Temptations reached his ears. "I've got sunshine on a cloudy day! When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May! I guess you'd say, what can make me feel this way? My girl, my girl, my girl! Talkin' 'bout my girl! My girl!"

Being around his brother and his best friend after all these years, had brought up the suppressed memories of Carla McCorkle. He had buried them deep, but now that he had no distractions, the memories consumed him. The ache in his heart for the women he loved most, caused him to be torn into pieces. He felt the cry blubber out of his mouth, burning his throat, before he was overwhelmed by sobs. He wanted to stifle them, so the younger ones didn't hear him, but he couldn't. His brother and great-niece might cease to exist, just as Carla McCorkle had two years prior. Stan wept, the memory of his loved one, haunting him, never to be met in reality again. "I-I'm sorry, C-Carla..."

~!-?-!~

If either of them had heard him completely fall apart in his bedroom earlier, they didn't mention it. He suspected they did though, as Dipper and Gideon refused to make eye contact with him. He had turned up the music though, to a reasonably high level, to prevent being heard, but perhaps they had only suspected what had occurred, instead of actually hearing. Either way though, he decided he needed to pull himself back together. They had finished up their lunches, the sandwiches and chips gone from their plates, before he decided to speak. "I think it's almost time."

Of course they knew what he was referring to, though they didn't understand how he knew. Stan wasn't confident himself how he did, but he had a feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. He felt on edge, a sense of warning blaring at him about the danger soon to come. He had been alive long enough to know the meaning behind such a feeling.

"And, now it is time..." The trio were startled by the voice in the kitchen, as Bill Cipher appeared in a golden flash. "Time to complete the rotation."

"Alright, alright, enough with the theatrics! Just take me to the damn place!" Stan snarled, slamming a hand onto the table, concerned about his family members.

"Grunkle Stan, I'm coming too," Dipper frowned at his great-uncle's suggestion that he would be left behind.

"No, you ain't. That isn't any place for you or Gideon to be near." Stan shook his head.

"I've already been to the dreamscape though! I was in three different ones at once, so I know how it works better than you!"

"H-He..." The Pines' attention was brought to the frightened 11-year-old interrupting the argument, as he began to speak. His skin had gone a shade paler, skin beginning to grow clammy, and they realized how horrified he was about the idea that they would go there. He had a perfect reason as well, considering what he endured. Gideon gulped thickly, before hesitantly continuing on. "D-Dipper k-knows h-how i-it i-is...s-so h-he h-has t-to g-go..."

"I'm not letting either of y-"

"Enough, Crescent," Stan was silenced with a snap of Bill's fingers, producing a heated glare from the elder man. He stood from the table, and stepped forward, as though he were about to give the dream demon a piece of his mind. Dipper's arm on his ceased him from doing so though. Instead, he retreated to his seat, and continued to scowl at Bill, while listening to his words. "I need all three of you to go to the dreamscape, in order for this to work. I also need to...borrow something from each of you."

Stan opened his mouth to speak, yet not a single word emerged. Dipper instead spoke the question, obviously on all three of their minds, though not with the amount of suspicion his great-uncle would have had in his tone. "What do you need to borrow?"

"Blood."

Gideon immediately stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own two feet. He released a whimper, sounding as though he was about to completely fall apart in front of Bill. The triangle floated closer, though he ceased movement when Stan stepped in-between them. Bill rolled his eye and snapped his fingers once more. Stan immediately spoke, voice low, nearly a growl. "You stay the hell away from him."

The dream demon ignored his statement though, continuing to speak to Gideon, as though there wasn't a physical barrier between them. "You've had blood taken before, haven't you? By Jill I would assume. She didn't have a exact purpose it seems, judging from your reaction. She always has had a lust for blood and gore..."

The elder Pines frowned at the crypt words. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Grunkle Stan, it's ok," Dipper stepped towards Stan and Gideon. "He needs power, so he can take us there."

"Very insightful, Pine Tree," Bill clapped his hands together. "Though, it may have to do with our previous exchange for power. Except, that was with your hair. This type of power needed to teleport the four of us into the dreamscape though, requires a higher sacrifice."

"Kid, you know I don't trust this piece of sh...You know I don't trust Cipher."

"Yeah, I know you don't, but you trust me, don't you?"

Stan immediately nodded. "Of course, Dipper. The trust thing works both ways, you know."

"Then, trust me, when I say we'll be ok."

His great-uncle scowled deeply at the dream demon, before relaxing his stance. He felt a pair of hands grasping at the back of his wife-beater, tugging. He twisted his head around, revealing Gideon's frightened face. He reached down immediately, patting his head. "You're gonna be ok, kiddo. I won't let anything bad happen to you...I'm warning you though, Cipher, if any of us is injured, you'll have to face me."

Bill seemed to be leering at him, as though he found his words amusing, though he didn't comment. Dipper was beside Gideon, reaching for the pudgy hand, which he immediately grasped held of. He squeezed tightly, his palms sweaty. The brunet whispered, coaxing his softly. "Think about Mabel."

Gideon bit his lip, before nodding. "F-For...Mabel."

"Well, now that you three are in agreement, we can begin," Bill floated closer, reaching out to Dipper, and grasped onto his free hand. He turned it over in his own hand, revealing the inside of the brunet's wrist. An index figure was placed on the the most vibrant vein, a stinging sensation blooming, causing Dipper to release a hiss. The hand was dropped, Dipper feeling dizzy from the loss of blood, though not enough to cause him to pass out. "Most of the sacrifice will be taken from you, as your position makes you one of the most powerful ones on the wheel."

He turned to Gideon, the other squeezing shut his eyes, as Dipper raised up the trembling hand he held. The dream demon received the hand from Dipper, turning over the wrist, and proceeded to remove the blood from the 11-year-old. Stan cautiously watched on, while Gideon whimpered at the actions being performed. The hand was returned to Dipper, the younger Pines squeezing it gently. Gideon blinked a few times, appearing surprised at how much the procedure hadn't hurt. Finally, Bill approached Stan, the latter's eyes fierce as they stared into the single one. He raised his arm, presented his exposed wrist, before Bill preceded to remove the blood from him. When the action had been performed, the elder man jerked his arm away, not wanting to be in contact longer than necessary. "And, now we can begin."

The triangle closed his eye, beginning to glow, becoming a beacon of light. The trio covered their eyes, wincing against the light, their retinas burning from the intensity. The hair on Dipper's arms and the back of his neck rose, a shiver ripping through his very soul. His soul, it felt as though it was being removed-no, it was being detached from his mind, only his mind preparing to enter the dreamscape. A distant ragtime melody echoed around him, "The Entertainer", his memory supplied, eerily in the wind soaring around them, as though a record player was being swept away by a tornado. The colors of the room blurred by him, a buzzing underneath his skin. His skin, he couldn't feel his skin, or his body for that matter. Stars flashed by, voices echoing in his ears, one single one the loudest to him. "Oh, Bill never enlightened you of our connection, my dear? Oh, Bill, I would of thought you would be more forthcoming towards him, th-"

Dipper landed harshly, his entire being vibrantly from the impact, feeling as though he had smashed his own face against a brick wall enough times to cause himself to fracture his skull. He opened his eyes, an endless white expanse surrounding him, except for the red dripping steadily onto the floor below. He breathed, a rattling in his lungs, as blood leaked from his mouth and nose. His hands and knees, couldn't feel the floor beneath himself, but he could feel the warmth of his own blood. The 13-year-old lifted his head, revealing an individual towering above him, shimmering with golden illumination, as if the sun was behind him. His blond hair waved gently, as if a wind was breezed through it, his darkly tan skin contrasting significantly with his hair. He was clad in armor, nearly blinding him from the reflective golden light emitting from it. His black cape seemed dark enough, that Dipper wondered if it was the void itself, stars glimmering across it. One of the uncovered eyes bored down at him, pure black, not a pupil to be seen. Though he had never seen the individual in his life, he knew him immediately. "B-Bill?"

A smile, eerily creeped across his face, spread unnaturally wide on him. "Good morning, Pine Tree."

End Chapter 41

Andddd, I've returned from my minor hiatus! I had been originally planning to finish off this story a bit earlier, but I had become burnt out from the writing I had to do in college and decided to take a break. I know I need to finish this off though, so I decided to get back to work on it. The next chapter will feature the finale, which I haven't decided if it will be split into two parts, or simply just one. Then, after that will be the epilogue, before Broken Our Mirrors is over. The next chapter will be around much sooner, so keep an eye out! As always reviews, favorites, and follows are appreciated!