Chapter IX: After Dark
Wendy couldn't remember who got to him first.
It was a blur of frantic movement and adrenaline as she pushed past everyone and everything that stood between her and the stage. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, and it was all she could do to keep moving. To not panic anymore than she already was.
Mr. Pines was there. And so was Soos.
It couldn't have been more than a few seconds before she noticed the blood pooling underneath him, but every moment was an eternity as her years of survival training failed her.
People were yelling, but Mr. Pines' voice cut across all of them.
"You! Doctor! Now!" He roared into the crowd, pointing at a dark skinned man with a mustache that she knew she should remember.
Her own father's voice filled her head, but it was all just noise. More yelling. More instructions she couldn't remember now that she needed them.
What was she supposed to do?
"He's breathing!" Soos yelled as the three of them surrounded Dipper's crumpled form.
His chest was rising and falling, but his eyes were closed. He'd landed on his side, with his left arm pinned underneath him. He'd changed into a black costume, so it was hard to make out how much blood was coming from where. Too much.
Mr. Pines knelt beside him, his face etched with grief. "Hey kid, we're here. Everything's gonna be fine, just hang in there."
Dipper's eyes fluttered open.
For a moment, there was only the sound of his labored breaths. Wendy held her own breath, her eyes locked on Dipper's as he struggled to see them.
"Dipper, it's Wendy," she whispered, even as her voice shook. "You're gonna be okay. We're gonna get you some help."
Dipper's gaze shifted blearily. His breathing was shallow, and his lips parted and then closed several times as he tried to speak. The words that finally came out were weak and slurred. "W-wendy? Grunkle Stan? Soos?"
Wendy nodded, tears stinging her eyes. "Yeah, we're all here." She wanted to grab him, to put her hand on his shoulder. Something to show that she was here for him. But she had no idea what might make it worse. And she couldn't make things worse. She wouldn't.
Dipper groaned suddenly. "I– I… tried to fall right," he said through clenched teeth, his gaze flicking between all of them in rapid succession.
Soos was on his cell phone by then, and Dr. Statt, who she finally remembered, was pulling himself onto the stage.
"What happened?" Mr. Pines asked Dipper, his tone somewhere between concern and rage.
Dipper's eyes closed, and he took several more ragged breaths. "Bill," he ground out.
And then Dr. Statt was there, huffing and puffing with wide eyes, and he was yelling at everyone but Mr. Pines to give them some space. Then yelling at the audience to stay where they were. Something about emergency vehicles.
She backed off, and Soos kept talking on the phone. He was telling them their location. Telling them what had happened, or at least, what they knew, while she wracked her own brain in pursuit of something close to an answer.
Who was Bill?
She knew she remembered the name. Something about… Something about that fake psychic Gideon. Something about dreams.
How could he have done this? Why?
Mr. Pines and Dr. Statt were getting Dipper onto his back, and Dipper was groaning and then–
–Mabel was there, and she was wailing.
Dipper's sleeve was thick with blood. They held his arm steady as they moved him, but she knew something was wrong. Something bad.
Wendy's eyes burned even hotter as she grabbed hold of Mabel, and wrapped her arms around her tightly. She didn't really know who was getting more out of it. Mabel sobbed, and Wendy patted her back.
"Shh, everything's gonna be fine," she whispered into her ear, willing herself to keep the tears at bay. To stay strong. "Everything's gonna be fine," she repeated. Maybe if she kept repeating it, it would come true.
Mabel was babbling, and it was all Wendy could do to pet her hair and listen. "It– It was Bill. Bill Cipher. He– I–" She choked out a sob. "He possessed Dipper. Dipper– he wasn't in control. It was Bill. All Bill."
Possessed?
"How long?" Wendy found herself asking desperately. "How long has he been possessed?"
Mabel shrugged into her. "I– I don't know. A few hours? Since before we left?" Mabel hugged her tight. "H–He was weird! We should've noticed!"
Her chest felt tight.
Wendy wanted to reassure her. To tell her they did everything they could. But her lips were dry, and her voice wasn't working with her.
Why… How could she not have realized? Dipper wasn't– he just– he didn't act like that. He'd been wrong. Been acting wrong. Obviously wrong, and she'd been so wrapped up in herself she hadn't connected the dots.
"I'm sorry," Wendy said through gritted teeth, as she fought the desire to rub her eyes. "I should've realized. I should've known."
They stood like that. Mabel sobbing, and Wendy holding her tight and trying not to join her. She ignored the mutterings of the crowd, and instead focused on the rise and fall of Dipper's chest.
Using a borrowed pocket-knife, Dr. Statt cut through Dipper's sleeve, revealing a mangled forearm. The gleaming white of bone stood out against the mess of red.
Wendy did her best to not let Mabel see, as the burn of bile rose in her throat.
Eventually, Grenda and Candy found their way onto the stage to join them, and Mabel finally let go of her. Candy and Grenda surrounded Mabel, and the three of them hugged and sobbed in a clump.
"Soos!" Mr. Pines barked from where he knelt beside Dipper. "As soon as the ambulance gets here, take the girls home, and make sure the pig gets fed. I'll take Mabel with me."
Any trace of his usual humor or sarcasm was long gone. His expression had hardened into steel.
Soos only nodded somberly, and rubbed at his red eyes. "Got it, boss."
But Wendy wouldn't listen this time.
"Mr. Pines, I'm going too," she said, locking eyes with him. "It's Friday night. I wouldn't be home till late most of the time anyway."
Mr. Pines' mouth was a grim line. "This isn't something that's gonna be in and out in twenty minutes, Corduroy. He needs surgery, and who knows how long it's gonna take."
"And I'm staying with him," she said with as much firmness as she could muster. "I should've noticed something was wrong. This–" her breath hitched, "–it's as much my fault as anyone's."
Mr. Pines didn't answer for a long moment. His eyes flicked down to Dipper, and then back to Wendy. His expression softened slightly. "Fine," he said, exhaling heavily. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."
Wendy couldn't even feel real relief as she watched Dr. Statt mutter something to Mr. Pines while he applied pressure further up Dipper's arm.
"He's lucky," she heard him practically whisper. "Could've been much worse."
Could've died.
Mr. Pines didn't reply to that one.
Dipper periodically opened his eyes and looked around, but she had no idea how much he was really seeing, because almost as soon as he'd opened them, they'd be closed again. His breathing was mostly even, and she focused on that. She tried not to look at the arm that Dr. Statt had covered back up. Tried not to think of the bit of bone jutting out.
It wasn't much longer until they began to hear the wail of sirens in the distance. The audience hushed in anticipation, and some even got up from their seats, despite Dr. Statt's cries calling them to remain seated.
When the paramedics finally entered the theater, Wendy allowed herself to feel something approaching relief.
They made their way down to the stage with the stretcher, and wheeled it over to Dipper in total silence. They worked quickly and quietly, lifting Dipper up onto the stretcher as soon as they'd verified his injuries.
"You're the guardian?" One of them, a tall dark skinned man, asked Mr. Pines.
"I am," Mr. Pines replied. "You're going to Greshaw?"
Another paramedic, a middle aged blonde woman, answered this time. "We'll be going straight there. We have room for one more in the ambulance."
But Mr. Pines shook his head. "I'll meet ya there. Take good care of him."
The paramedics nodded, and then they were wheeling Dipper away, Dr. Statt helping them lower the stretcher off the stage.
Once again, Wendy found herself watching Dipper disappear up the aisle. And once again, she was frozen.
As soon as he was out of sight, the intercom sounded. "Once the emergency vehicle has left the premises, the Theatre Time Theater asks that all theatergoers vacate the theater. Thank you, and have a pleasant evening."
Wendy didn't know how long she stood there, staring up the empty aisle, but, eventually, she felt a firm hand on her shoulder.
"C'mon Wendy," Mr. Pines said softly. "Gotta beat the traffic."
The six of them made their way off the stage, and, luckily, the now-exiting audience members had enough sensitivity to make space for them to leave first.
The heat of the day had given way to a chilly night, but it didn't do much to cool her thoughts. To make her more okay with anything that had happened.
Mabel hugged her two friends tightly and gave them both tearful goodbyes, before Soos led them away to where they'd parked further down the road.
Mr. Pines had managed to get a decent parking spot, due to how much earlier he'd left, so it wasn't much of a walk to the Stanmobile. As they passed the ticket window, she remembered Dip–that monster's comment about the water tower, and her stomach twisted.
He'd been planning something like it all along. And he'd thrown it right in their faces.
They reached Mr. Pines' parked Cadillac with little fanfare."Do you want shotgun, Mabel?" Wendy asked.
Mabel's eyes were still bright and red, and she was clutching Dipper's journal tightly. "C–Could you sit in the back with me?"
Wendy found it in herself to smile, however small it ended up being. "Of course."
All three of them piled into the Stanmobile. Once inside, Mr. Pines craned his neck to check that they had their seatbelts on, and then they were off down Main Street.
They drove in silence, except for an occasional sniffle from Mabel. Wendy continued to keep tears at bay, if only for Mabel's sake.
Briefly, she thought about calling her dad to let him know she wouldn't be home until tomorrow, but then she realized that she didn't really care enough. She'd get home when she got home. And she'd get home when she knew Dipper was going to be fine.
Andeverything was going to be fine. It had to be.
Five minutes into the drive, Wendy heard Mabel's text notification go off. Mabel was slow to react, but when she finally checked her message, she gasped, and her eyes welled up with brand new tears.
"What is it?" Wendy asked, unable to help the panic that bled into her voice. "Is everything okay?"
Mabel only shook her head, and offered her phone to Wendy, covering her mouth with her other hand.
It was a message from Grenda.
'this was in the back seat'
There was an attached photo. It was a small scrap of paper, with just a few words written across it in shaky, scribbly handwriting.
Dearest Mabel,
Hope you enjoy the show!
Your friend,
Bill
Fury and despair warred inside Wendy, and she let fury win.
"That fucking bastard," she spat. "Dipper– he–Bill took a little bit longer to get out of the car." She clenched her fist tightly. "I didn't even think twice about it. I just thought– I– God, I don't even know what I thought." She clenched her first hard. "He was playing us! Like it was all a game to him." The fury receded, and the despair won some ground. "I'm sorry Mr. Pines, I didn't mean to curse."
Mr. Pines made a noise, but didn't say anything further.
Wendy's eyes lingered on the photo as she handed Mabel back her phone.
All along, he'd been planning to kill Dipper.
Why?
"Bill," she said, after a silence, "he tried to do something before, right? With Gideon?"
Mabel nodded despondently, and rubbed her face with her sleeve. "Gideon summoned him." She sniffled hard. "He– Bill– he went into Grunkle Stan's mind to find the password to the safe, because Gideon wanted the deed for the Shack. W–When we were in the Mindscape, Bill, he transformed into Soos. He pretended to be him. And we didn't even notice then either."
Fresh tears came, and Wendy reached over to put her hand on Mabel's shoulder.
"...We fought him, and we won. But before he disappeared, h–he said he'd be watching us. I guess... I guess I thought he was lying. That he was just trying to scare us."
As Mabel talked, Wendy remembered more and more of what Dipper had told her about their encounter with Bill... But he'd left out that last part.
He must have thought the same thing that Mabel had.
"During the intermission," Mabel continued, "Dipper talked to me. He possessed one of my puppets. I didn't think it was him, at first, because I'd just talked to– to Bill. But he told me that Bill was after the journal, and that I had to stop Bill from getting it. Or else... Or else he'd be stuck as a ghost."
Wendy felt a tightness in her chest.
"I–I'd taken the journal to use as a prop. It was up on the catwalk, and we were– were gonna lower the prop cake at the end. And the reverend, he was gonna take the journal out and use it like a bible for the wedding." She shook her head, and clutched the journal even more tightly. "It was supposed to be Grenda's cousin, but he couldn't make it. Dipper said he'd do it, and I was so happy I didn't think about it."
She was quiet for another long moment.
"W-We fought over the journal, and then I threw it off the catwalk. And he said that without Dipper, I couldn't stop what he's planned. And then he– he–" Mabel choked back a sob, and pressed her face into the journal. "He tried to kill him. It's all my fault."
Wendy forced back the tears that threatened to spill. "But he failed," Wendy ground out with more firmness than she was really feeling. "Dipper's alive. That's what matters."
That's what they had to focus on.
They entered Greshaw city limits without another word from any of them, and soon enough, they were pulling into the parking lot of Greshaw's hospital. Mabel brought the journal with her as they exited the Stanmobile.
The chill of the night air gave Wendy goosebumps, but she did her best to shrug it off. They'd be inside in no time.
Her heart sat heavily in her chest as she wordlessly followed Mr. Pines through the parking lot. She knew this was where Wendy Corduroy was supposed to crack a joke, or make a smart remark.
'Yo, Mr. Pines, do you even know where we're goin'?'
But it was hard enough to even smile, let alone make a joke.
Mr. Pines led them through an automatic door and into the ER, which had a huge helpful sign out front. The waiting room was crowded and noisy. A toddler was bawling, and some nighttime talk show was playing on the room's shabby television.
Mr. Pines marched straight to the front desk to speak to the receptionist, and Wendy pulled Mabel aside to find the three of them some seats. They ended up having to squeeze themselves into the corner, between several other waiting patients.
Wendy tried not to look too closely at the other people. It was an ER on a Friday night. They were all here for the same reason she was, and she had enough of her own pain to deal with.
Mabel sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, with the journal sandwiched between her knees and chest. She looked so small and fragile, that Wendy couldn't help but think about how she looked.
Who was the Wendy Corduroy that the world was seeing?
Was it the one she tried to be?
'Brave face. Don't let anything bother you, ever. Tough it out. Don't be a little girl. Man up.'
Dan Corduroy had taught her many things, but few of them had anything to do with processing grief. Which made sense, considering he never learned how to do it himself.
As she waited, everything that that demon had done in Dipper's body played back in her mind. The little remarks. The smirks. The way he'd looked at her. The feeling of his fingers against her thigh.
How could she not have realized that none of it was him?
None of it was Dipper.
Dipper Pines was many things, but he wasn't a flirt. He wasn't someone who got in her head just to fuck with her.
He was sweet. And dweeby. And he got weirdly obsessive about things she sometimes didn't care about, but damn it, she'd have a good time listening to him tell her about them anyway.
He could be shy. He could be awkward. He could try too hard and make a bit of a fool of himself.
He could make her smile, and laugh.
He always tried to be there for her.
And now he was lying somewhere in the hospital getting stitched back together because she hadn't been able to see what was plain as day.
Was this how Dipper felt? When he was standing over the body that he thought was hers? That he'd failed someone that meant the world to him, and it was all his fault?
Or was it different?
Eventually, Mr. Pines made it through the line at the front desk and came to claim the seat they'd saved for him. The stoniness of his expression had relaxed ever so slightly.
"He's stable," he said with a nod. "He's getting x-rayed. They need to figure out what's busted before they fix him." His eyes scanned the waiting room. "They'll let us know when we can see him, but ya better buckle in. It's gonna be a little while."
Mabel's brows furrowed. "How much do they need to fix?" she asked in a quiet voice.
Mr. Pines slipped off his glasses, and pinched his temples with a sigh. "Well, there's the arm. Probably a concussion too, if Dr. Statt is worth his doctorate. Could be some internal damage too for all we know."
Mabel's eyes grew watery, and she mumbled something Wendy couldn't quite make out.
But apparently Mr. Pines had.
"Kid, it's not your fault," he said flatly, staring at his glasses rather than at Mabel. "It's mine. Your parents sent the two of you to me on one condition: that I'd keep you safe, and I didn't."
Mabel's eyes widened, and her bottom lip started to quiver.
"I knew Gravity Falls was weird, and I let them send you anyway. I thought if I pretended like it was a normal place, you guys wouldn't notice. But you did, and then I let you gallivant around chasing trouble." He grunted, and jabbed a finger at the journal. "I even let him keep that stupid journal. I'm an old man, and I didn't take this seriously enough. How could I expect any of you to?"
Mr. Pines' hands shook as he put his glasses back on. "As soon as your brother's good to go, you're both goin' back to Piedmont. It's not safe here for you, and it never was."
Wendy's stomach dropped.
"No!" Mabel protested tearfully, as she clutched the journal even tighter "We can't! All our friends are here!"
Mr. Pines still wasn't looking at Mabel. "What, you think it's just my decision? The second I tell your parents they'll say the same thing."
"Then don't tell them! They don't need to know!" Mabel cried, completely uncaring of the attention they were starting to attract.
"So what?" He grunted, finally turning to face Mabel. "Your brother gets off the bus in September with a cast and tells your parents, 'Oh yeah, I broke my arm!' How do you think that's gonna go? Ya think they'll just send you right on back next Summer?"
Mabel didn't flinch from his stare, despite the wetness of her eyes. "If they're not gonna let us come back either way, then I'd rather spend the rest of this summer here! With you, and Wendy, and Soos, and Candy 'n Grenda!" Then, in a quieter voice. "And I know Dipper would too."
Wendy felt a pang in her chest, and she knew she had to say something. "He would," she agreed, barely above a mumble. "Dipper– he loves it here."
'I never even got a chance to tell you I'm, like—in love with you, Wendy!'
"He wouldn't want to go back to Piedmont," she continued, finding her voice as she went. "I don't think he has many friends back home, but here, he does." She caught Mabel's gaze, and found it in herself to smile. "Gravity Falls won't be the same without the Mystery Twins, so c'mon Mr. Pines, let 'em ride the rest of this summer out."
Mr. Pines' eyes flicked from Mabel's to her own, and then back. He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and index finger. "Ya dang kids... this doesn't just get brushed under the rug. I can't just–"
"–Please?" Mabel begged, her eyes wide and watery.
Mr. Pines held her gaze for a long moment. "Fine!" he grunted, throwing up his hands in defeat. "But don't say I didn't tell ya what was goin' to happen when ya got home." He had the slightest smile for a moment, before his grim frown returned. "And from now on, you stay out of trouble. You don't go lookin' for it."
Mabel's face lit up, and she leaned over her chair to wrap her great uncle in an uncomfortable looking side hug, dropping the journal in the process. "Thank you Grunkle Stan."
Mr. Pines patted her back a few times, then briefly leaned into the hug. "Alright, alright," he grumbled as he disentangled himself. "That's enough of that, save some for your brother."
Mabel scooped the journal back up from where it had fallen, and then sat with it across her lap. Her eyes were still red, but she didn't look quite so small now.
"Thank you Mr. Pines," Wendy added, hoping her relief didn't show too obviously on her face. She needed to add a smart remark. That's what Mr. Pines expected. "...I'm not sure I'd be able to work another month without Dipper there to make it bearable."
Mr. Pines snorted a laugh. "Not like you do much anyway." But there was a tenderness in his voice that she wasn't used to.
Gradually, the eyes that they'd drawn from curious onlookers found new things to stare at, and the three of them settled into a subdued, though not hopeless, silence.
Wendy shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable, but found that she was having a hard time of it.
(It definitely wasn't the thought of summer's end getting to her.)
When her phone buzzed in her pocket a few minutes later, it was the last thing she expected, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. When it kept buzzing, she realized it wasn't a text she could just ignore.
She took her Razr out in a rush and flipped it open.
It was Marcus. Figured.
"I gotta take this," she said with a groan as she got out of her seat.
Mr. Pines waved her off. "We'll keep it warm."
By the time Wendy had gotten outside into the now even chillier night air, Marcus's first call had ended and he was calling again. That was how he always did it when dad was on his ass, which is what she knew was happening.
She answered the call.
"Dad wants to know when you're coming home," Marcus said immediately.
Right in one.
Annoyance flooded her veins. "It's Friday night, what does he care?"
Marcus made a noise. "He heard about that whole thing at the theater. You were there, right?"
God. News always traveled so fast.
"Yeah, I was, but I'm not there right now obviously."
"Okay," Marcus replied, "so when are you coming home? Dad wants to know."
"You already said that, I'm not deaf."
Lies? Or honesty?
Which was it going to be?
"I'll be home tomorrow. I'm spending the night at Tambry's."
"Alright. Dad wants you to pick up milk when you come home."
"Fine, seeya," she snapped, before ending the call without waiting for him to reply.
Only a half lie. She would be home tomorrow, after all.
She just had to cover for the lie now, which was always the pain about lies, wasn't it?
Not having checked her texts in hours, she was predictably swamped with them. There was the usual crap from Robbie as well as Tambry's standard storm of texts. But she really didn't have the energy to go through them.
She loved Tambry, she really did, but sometimes she could be a bit passive aggressive.
She opened a fresh text.
'hey can you do a favor for me?'
Not even fifteen seconds later her phone was buzzing.
'first you gotta tell me what happened'
A second buzz.
'at the theater I mean'
God! News traveled way too fast in small towns.
'I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. if anyone calls I'm spending the night at your house alright?'
Two replies came in quick succession.
'UGH'
'where even are you'
Wendy bit her lip.
'I'm at the hospital. dipper got hurt pretty bad'
Tambry's reply took a lot longer than it usually did.
'hope he ends up okay. see ya tomorrow.'
Wendy's final reply was easy, at least.
'see ya then'
Closing her phone, Wendy took a shuddering breath. She couldn't bail on them tomorrow, as much as she now wanted to. She'd promised that she'd be there, and she usually tried to make her promises mean something.
But how the hell was she supposed to have a normal day with her friends after this?
Wendy jammed her phone back into her pocket and stared off into the parking lot. She stood silently for a time, willing the night air to clear her head.
Predictably, it didn't work. And so she trudged back into the ER, feeling completely exhausted and drained.
Mr. Pines' seat was empty when she got back to the corner of the waiting room that they'd claimed. Her breath caught in her throat, but she tried to project confidence.
"Is everything okay?" she asked Mabel as she sat back down in her seat. "Did something happen?"
"He got called up to the front," Mabel said quietly. She was holding the journal tightly again. "He thinks it's Sheriff Blubs."
Oh yeah, police reports were a thing, weren't they?
"He's gonna tell them it was just an accident."
Wendy could only nod as they settled into another silence. She really didn't have the mental fortitude for small talk, and she didn't think Mabel did either.
Mr. Pines took a surprising amount of time to return to the waiting room, but when he did, he didn't seem any more concerned than he'd already been.
"They're not gonna be a problem," was all he said as he took his seat and crossed his arms with a grunt.
And then they waited.
Time passed, and the waiting room grew quieter as the night dragged on. Scattered conversations became less and less frequent as the number of people in the waiting room gradually dwindled. Orderlies came and went, calling names and escorting people further into the hospital. The talk shows on the television kept right on talking, even as the faces of the anchors kept changing.
Mr. Pines watched every doctor or nurse that passed through the ER like a hawk. Every now and again, he'd take off his glasses and massage his temples, before going right back to his watch.
Mabel flicked through the journal somberly, occasionally stopping on a page for a few minutes. Sometimes she'd smile, or let out the smallest of laughs. And then she'd turn the page, and the momentary happiness would be gone. Eventually, she began to drift off, leaning her head against her great uncle's shoulder. The journal was wide open across her lap.
Wendy did her level best to not look at the clock, because she knew from experience that it'd drive her insane. At some point she snatched up a magazine to read, but no matter how many times she re-read the pages, the information was barely registering in her brain. Probably because her thoughts were elsewhere.
(Exactly where she knew they'd be.)
In time, the exhaustion of the night became almost too much for her. Keeping her eyes open grew harder and harder, even as images of Dipper crashing into the theater stage replayed in her mind like a movie stuck on a loop.
Wendy didn't know what time it was when a voice cut across the ER's waiting room.
"Family of Mason Pines?"
Her head snapped up, and she saw a middle aged woman with her dark brown hair in a tight bun standing near the double doors that led further into the hospital. Her expression was pinched, but not sour. A clipboard was in her hands.
Wendy's brain finally caught up to what she'd said as Mr. Pines stood up from his seat.
"That's us," Mr. Pines called as he gently shook Mabel awake.
The woman (Doctor? Nurse?) walked over to them quickly, and Wendy couldn't help the anxiety that grew as she neared.
But when she stopped in front of them, she smiled. "I'm Dr. Alvarez. Your..." she flipped through a few pages on her clipboard, "...great nephew's surgery was a success. We'll be keeping him through tomorrow to monitor his recovery, but with time and rest, he should recover completely. But in the meantime, he's asking for you."
"He's awake?" Mr. Pines asked, his voice suddenly hoarse.
Dr. Alvarez nodded. "He is. He's a bit... groggy due to the anesthesia, but he's doing about as well as you could hope for after a fall like that." She looked around the waiting room. "But any more detail should wait for some privacy."
Wendy didn't remember standing up, but the jitteriness in her fingers was strong as she watched Mabel rise to her feet with a yawn, the journal held loosely in her arms.
Mabel finally woke up all at once. Her eyes widened. "Wait, he's awake? Let's go!"
Dr. Alvarez smiled gently, and then indicated toward the double doors with a nod of her head. "If you'll follow me, please."
They followed the doctor out of the waiting room and through the double doors. Mabel's steps started peppy, but gradually became more apprehensive as they walked. Mr. Pines walked like a man with purpose, and Wendy did her best to match him. Why would she be nervous to see Dipper, after all?
She should be overjoyed! She was overjoyed!
(But there was something else there too. Something besides guilt.)
They passed rows of rooms as they made their way down sterile, somewhat dimly lit hallways. Hospital staff crossed their path occasionally, but it was late, and activity was clearly low. The only noises were the soft squeak of sneakers on linoleum and the occasional hushed conversation of nurses and doctors that they passed by.
After a short elevator ride up to the second floor, and then a shorter walk past several more hallways, Dr. Alvarez stopped in front of a room that looked like all the rest had.
"Room 202," she said, pointing out the clipboard that was hung up outside it on a hook. Dipper's real name was written on it. "Mason Pines."
Wendy couldn't help herself. "He prefers 'Dipper.'"
Dr. Alvarez nodded understandingly. "Of course, Dipper it is." She looked over to Mr. Pines. "I'll give you all some time to catch up. When you're ready to discuss the… particulars, inform a nurse, and I will be right over." She stepped aside to allow them through. "Do mind the IV," she added.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she felt more than a little lightheaded as a fresh wave of anxiety washed over her
Would he be happy to see them?
(Would he be happy to see her?)
Mabel looked hesitant too.
But Mr. Pines did what neither of them could, and pushed open the door with a grunt.
Mabel went in after him, and Wendy took a deep breath to steady herself, before following on her heels. She shut the door behind her gingerly with shaking hands, terrified to see the look on Dipper's face when he saw her.
"How ya holdin' up, kid?" Mr. Pines asked not-so-gruffly.
Dipper was sitting propped up in the hospital bed, his left arm encased in a shining-new plaster cast that stopped just short of his elbow. His hair was so messy she could see most of his birthmark, and the bags under his eyes were back and bold. He was wearing a hospital gown, and he looked more than a little sheepish about it.
But despite all that, he was smiling.
(When his eyes met hers, her heart skipped a beat.)
"Doin' better now," he said softly, his voice hoarse.
And then Mabel was crying. "Dipper! I'm so sorry! I–" She looked like she wanted to throw herself at him in a bone crushing hug, but realized she shouldn't. So she settled for a much gentler hug that avoided the IV he was hooked up to. "–I'm sorry for everything," she wailed into him, " F–for my stupid show. For not n–noticing. For everything."
Dipper lifted up his good arm, and awkwardly patted her back with a weak laugh. "Hey, it's okay. Your show was awesome, and I'm sorry I cut it short."
Mabel pulled away, tears still streaming down her cheeks, and Wendy felt tears prick at the corners of her own eyes.
He was staring at her now, and her tongue was tied.
"I'm so glad you're okay," Wendy managed to say, her words coming out in a gasp. "When you fell– I– I thought you were–" She couldn't even bring herself to say it. She rubbed at her eyes and sniffled hard, trying to put on a brave face. "Sick cast, d–dude," she finally managed lamely.
Dipper held up his broken arm, and turned it around slowly with a wince so that they could see both sides. He laughed nervously. "I guess I'm kinda like a cyborg now that I got some metal in me."
They all laughed, even Mabel, and Wendy scooted closer to put an arm around him in an awkward side hug. She wanted more, she realized. She wanted to hold him tight, and never let him go. Instead, she gave herself the span of two breaths, and then pulled back, ignoring the pang in her chest as she did so. "Don't scare us like that," she scolded gently.
Even in the low light of the hospital room, Wendy could make out Dipper's red cheeks as she found herself a seat next to the hospital bed. Mabel sat on the edge of the bed, and Mr. Pines took an armchair that was beside the window.
"So, what's the damage?" Mr Pines asked once he was settled into the armchair. "Can only see so much from the outside."
Dipper looked like a deer in the headlights for a moment, but then he shook his head and coughed. "Well, they said my arm broke about as nicely as you could hope for." He tapped his side with his good hand. "A few bruised ribs, and I think I've got bruises down my whole side pretty much. The one I landed on, I mean." He tapped his head. "And a 'mild' concussion, too," he added. "So, sorry if I'm a little out of it."
Mr. Pines whistled as Dipper finished his list of injuries. "You seem awfully chipper for someone with all that goin' on. Are you even feeling much right now?" Mr. Pines asked, indicating to the IV. "Or do they have you hooked up on the good stuff?"
Dipper chuckled weakly. "The good stuff," he confirmed. "At least for now. Something about it being addictive."
Mr. Pines smiled widely for the first time in hours. "Better enjoy it while it lasts! Because trust me, you're gonna miss it when it's gone." He snorted. "And I know that from experience."
"I'll try," he replied with a laugh, though he sobered quickly this time. Then, he looked down at his cast with a downcast look.
Mr. Pines' good cheer fell away quickly. "Look, Dipper, you don't gotta talk about anything yet if you don't wanna. No one here's pushin' ya."
Dipper set his jaw firmly. "No, I do. I'm just figuring out where to start, is all." He took a shuddering breath. "Okay. Well. A couple nights ago..."
It didn't take Dipper long to tell the story of Bill showing up in his dreams, considering that at the end of the day there really wasn't a whole lot to it. But it definitely gave her some perspective on how he'd been acting this week, and especially these last few days.
"Do you think it was him the whole time? Giving you nightmares?" Mabel asked delicately, her tears finally having stopped partway through Dipper's story.
Dipper shrugged. "Probably. The more messed up and tired I was, the less I'd notice, and the easier it'd be to make me take his stupid deal." He shook his head ruefully. "So stupid. I should've known."
"Don't beat yourself up," Mr. Pines said with a smirk. "You're beat up enough as it is."
Dipper rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile on his face.
"Anyway, don't be postin' photos online or anything," he continued gruffly, "Your sister's convinced me to not tell your parents about all this, so it's gonna be your little surprise to them when you get home in September." He eyed Dipper hard. "So just keep away from any more demons, and stay outta trouble. You're gonna need to rest to get that arm healed up nice and good."
"Thanks Grunkle Stan," Dipper replied, and Wendy knew it was genuine.
The silence that followed was cut short by a sudden and monstrous yawn from Mabel, which caused a ripple effect of yawns to course through all of them. Wendy couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it.
Mr. Pines made a show of checking his watch, and then stood up from his seat with a theatrical grunt. "Alright, I think it's time for some of us to head home," he said, staring pointedly at Mabel. "And I can drop you off too," he added with a nod in her direction.
Mabel shot up from the hospital bed and immediately began to protest. "Why do I have to go back to the Shack? Can't I just stay? I can sleep in a chair!"
"Because I'm starving," he replied with a pat of his belly, "and if I'm going anywhere, then I'm killin' a few birds with one stone. I was thinking I'd let you stay at the Shack by yourself and then pick you back up in the morning, but if you're gonna start complainin' my ear off then I can get you a babysitter."
Mabel was frowning hard when another yawn hit her, which made Mr. Pines smirk something fierce as he came to stand beside Dipper's bed.
"Fine, I'll go," she grumbled. "But only because I miss Waddles." She turned to Dipper, and her expression softened. "I'll be back bright and early tomorrow bro-bro. If you need me to bring anything, just text me! I'll even play your nerdy dice game if you wanna."
Dipper chuckled and shook his head. "I don't think I'm in the mood for dungeons at the moment. I've had my fill of sorcery and monsters for one weekend." His gaze shifted to his great uncle. "Could you bring me my charger after you drop them off? My phone's kinda dead right now." He looked down at himself sheepishly. "And maybe some real clothes too?"
Mr. Pines gave Dipper a reassuring, and gentle, pat on the shoulder. "You got it kid. Get yourself some rest, and I'll be back in...an hour let's say." Then he looked over to Wendy expectantly.
But she didn't really want to go home. Or even to Tambry's.
"Would it be... alright if I stay for a while longer?" She clenched her fist in her lap, and let out a short totally-normal laugh. "I can get my friends to pick me up when you get back; they're always up late on Fridays anyway."
Mr. Pines squinted at her contemplatively, before he finally nodded. "Don't keep him up too late," he ordered.
Wendy smiled gratefully, even as a fresh wave of anxiety washed over her. "I won't."
Mabel gave Dipper one last hug before she and Mr. Pines left the room with the journal in tow.
The second the door shut behind them, she became acutely aware of the hammering of her heart in her chest, and she looked down into her lap.
They had to talk, right? That's what she'd decided before this whole night went to hell. She couldn't avoid it anymore. She shouldn't.
She didn't know how long she spent staring at her hands. She couldn't count how many variations of the same phrases flew through her brain, but everything sounded wrong. Everything felt wrong.
In the end, it was Dipper who spoke first.
"Wendy?" came his soft, still hoarse voice.
She finally met his dark brown eyes. He looked so tired, and yet... there was something else there too. Something she'd seen in him only in fits and starts. Her mouth was dry, and she said the only thing she could think of.
"Yeah?"
His gaze flicked away from hers for a moment, but came back as he set his jaw. "I'm sorry," he said, surprisingly softly, "for trying to kiss you."
Wendy's heart clenched painfully, and she found herself at a complete loss for words. She opened and closed her mouth several times, willing something to come. Anything. But nothing did.
"You were drunk, and I knew it," he continued, still holding her gaze steady even as his voice began to tremble, "I know you wouldn't have– that you didn't mean to kiss me. You wouldn't have. If it weren't for the alcohol.
God, he was so–
"Y–You made it clear, back at the bunker, and I thought I was okay with that. I– I should've just walked away, but it's hard. Hard to get over someone that you– you care about." His good hand gripped his blanket tightly. "I'm sorry," he repeated, even more quietly this time.
Dipper finally looked away, and Wendy felt like her heart was going to break.
But this was her out, wasn't it? It's what she'd wanted. Another reset button. Let Dipper blame himself, and everything could just go right back to the way it was. The way it was before she'd... made it complicated. Before she'd messed it all up.
The words finally came to her, but they weren't any of the words she'd been imagining.
"Y'know..." She began tentatively, "I'm really not as cool as I try to seem." He looked back up at her, his brows furrowed, and she continued. "The whole 'sup dude I'm Wendy Corduroy and nothing ever bothers me' thing." She chuckled briefly at her own impression of herself, and Dipper cracked the tiniest of smiles. "But the truth is, I'm not that cool. I'm kind of a mess sometimes. Hell, I'm kind of a mess a lot of the time."
Dipper was looking at her with an expression somewhere between confusion and concern now, but she kept going before she could second guess herself.
"My family really stresses me out," she continued, "and I don't do too hot in school. I don't even know what I wanna do after high school, and that stresses me out too. I'm supposed to be figuring all this shit out about myself, but it's hard."
Dipper's breathing had slowed. He opened his mouth to say something, but she didn't let him.
"And then– then I go and get drunk," she said, looking back down to her lap again, "and kiss one of my best friends. And I spend a whole week trying to pretend like nothing's happened. I try to pretend like I'm the same ole Wendy Corduroy who doesn't let anything bother her... but on the inside, I have no idea what I'm doing."
Her eyes were burning, but for the first time that night she let the tears fall.
"T-Then–" she said through a sniffle, her voice breaking, "–you almost die. And I watch it happen. I let it happen." She shook her head as the tears burned hot streaks down her cheeks. "And suddenly... all that bullshit I said, all the shit that'd been running through my brain... it just doesn't seem to matter so much anymore."
She reached a hand out, and her fingers touched the hard plaster of his cast before they found his skin. His fingers curled around hers gently. They were warm, the way they were supposed to be.
"I don't want to regret anything, and I don't want you to either," she said, finally looking him in the eyes again. At the kind brown eyes and nervous smile that had come to make her heart flutter. She wiped at her tears even as her fingers intertwined with his. "I messed things up, but I don't think I regret it."
Dipper's eyes were wide as he gazed at her, and his cheeks were ruby red. "You... don't?" he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.
Wendy rubbed at her eyes, and smiled despite the tears. "No, I don't." She squeezed his hand, and felt his pulse quicken. "I can prove it, too." Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. "Everything you said... back when we fought that shapeshifter. Do you still mean it?"
"Y–Yeah," he stammered, his eyes frantically searching hers, "of course I do. I meant every word."
Wendy rose to her feet, and leaned closer over the hospital bed.
"Good," she murmured, before she pressed her lips to his.
Dipper's lips were chapped, and her face was still wet from tears, but as she cupped his cheek with her hand and felt his warmth, she found that she didn't care in the least. She closed her eyes and let herself relish the feeling of his lips against hers.
Sweet. Gentle.
Like Dipper.
When they broke apart, he was smiling, and she was pretty sure she was too.
"There," she said, "a real one. So don't be sorry for anything."
Dipper nodded, and they just looked at each other for several blissful seconds. She took in everything. The wrinkles under his eyes, the gentle curve of his smile...
The slight chubbiness of his cheeks.
And then reality caught up with her.
It must have shown on her face, because Dipper's expression fell. "W–What's wrong?"
Her stomach turned. "Dipper, people will think I'm a fuckin' creep. We can't–" She took a deep breath, trying and failing to calm the drumbeat of her heart. "–if we want to make... us a thing, then it has to stay between us. No one else. Just you and me."
Dipper's face was unreadable. His eyes flicked from her lips back to her eyes. "Keep it a secret, you mean? Because of my age?"
What would her dad say? Her friends? Mr. Pines? Soos?
Cradle robber. Creep. Sicko. She could hear it all in her head.
"Yeah," she said, "our secret."
For a moment, she felt something close to panic, but Dipper's hand found its way back into hers. He squeezed her hand gently, and smiled. His cheeks were red again.
"Our secret," he agreed softly, without an ounce of judgment in his eyes.
This time their kiss was barely more than a peck, but when they separated, their smiles were just as fierce.
A part of her wanted to squeeze beside him on the hospital bed, but she knew she shouldn't. Someone could walk in at any time, and then that'd be that. So she settled with scooting her chair closer to the bed and just holding his hand. That was almost as good.
They sat quietly for a time, their fingers still entwined. His thumb rubbed along the edge of her hand, and she quickly got used to the feeling of his cast against her arm.
It was Dipper who broke the silence again, but this time he was grinning, and his eyes were dancing.
"Man, I should've broken my arm earlier."
She knew the way she snorted was anything but pretty, but she didn't care. "You're lucky you're already an invalid, dork, or I'd be making you one for that," she retorted with a smirk.
Dipper laughed, and Wendy found that she liked the sound even more now.
By the time that Mr. Pines came back with Dipper's clothes, his charger, and some fast food, Wendy was sitting an appropriate distance from the hospital bed, and her hands were back in her lap.
It wouldn't be too hard, she decided.