Chapter VI: Inching Closer
WEDNESDAY
The night was cool, and the stars twinkled in the clear sky like a thousand tiny diamonds. The moon was nearly full, casting a pale, otherworldly glow on the roof of the Mystery Shack. The weather vane spun slowly in the breeze, though the trees that surrounded the Shack were unmoved. Even the usually noisy insects kept to themselves in the moonlight.
Quiet reigned.
Except...
Clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack.
BZZZZZZZT.
Dipper groaned.
How long had he been at it? Minutes? Hours?
He wasn't keeping track of what words he'd already tried anymore, and he wasn't really attempting any sort of system. The second an eight letter word came to mind, he'd type it, he'd hear the buzz, and then he'd be one inch closer to slamming the laptop shut and throwing it off the roof in a rage.
'SOLUTION'
BZZZZZZZT.
This should've been easy.
With Mabel, it would've been. Maybe they'd already have the code cracked, and he'd be back on the author's trail again. Maybe he'd already know who it was.
'FRACTURE'
BZZZZZZZT.
He spent all day working on stupid background puppets for her stupid opera, so that she could impress some stupid guy, all because her first instinct was to lie to make herself look good, and then make everyone else help put her money where her mouth is. And he knew it was going to blow up in her face.
Something stupid was going to happen, and this guy would end up like all the rest for her: forgotten as soon as the next pretty face showed up and it was once again the end of the world if she couldn't kiss him.
'REPEATED'
BZZZZZZZT.
He could've just ditched her and focused on the laptop. He should've. The mystery of the author had kept him going all summer, through good times and bad, and she just didn't care.
'CONVINCE'
BZZZZZZZT.
In fact, it wasn't even about the damn laptop. She just didn't care.
She had five other people willing to help, why the hell did she need him too? Why was he the one who always had to give up something? Why did his interests, his wants, his dreams always fall to the wayside?
He was the one who had to dance in the stupid lamb costume to save them from those ghosts while Mabel overdosed on smile dip. He was the one who had give up a good day with Wendy at the fair so that she could have a pet mom and dad probably wouldn't even let her keep. He couldn't go to that party on Summerween, because they just had to go trick-or-treating in their stupid twin costume.
'BULLSHIT'
BZZZZZZZT.
But... it wasn't that simple, and he knew that.
Life was never simple.
He'd messed up plenty. He got the Trickster on their tail on Summerween, he went nuts with the copier to try to have a chance with Wendy, he cribbed together that shrink ray from stuff he'd found around the Shack.
'THIRTEEN'
BZZZZZZZT.
He'd lied to impress someone too.
'SEPARATE'
BZZZZZZZT.
He was keeping secrets too.
'TOGETHER'
BZZZZZZZT.
They used to tell each other everything, and now... things were just different.
He couldn't tell her everything that was going on with Wendy. Dammit, he didn't even know what was going on for himself. If she blabbed to the wrong person... what? What would happen? He'd get in trouble for drinking? Wendy wouldn't talk to him anymore? He didn't even fucking know and he didn't want to find out.
He couldn't even broach the subject with Wendy herself. How could he talk to Mabel, who teased him about everything and made him feel like a joke?
Dipper was tired.
Tired and frustrated and confused.
ENTER PASSWORD
A small part of him wanted to punch the screen, but he couldn't.
It was the only lead he had, and how the hell would he explain it to Soos?
'Hey dude could you fix the laptop for me again? I got upset and punched it.'
If he were less tired, he might have chuckled at the thought, but instead, he closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts.
He was just killing some time. He couldn't sleep again, but maybe if he tired himself out enough he could go back to the recliner and drop like a rock. Tomorrow was the last day he had to help Mabel with the puppet show, and Friday she'd be done.
After that... after that he could focus on the laptop. And maybe– maybe he could figure out what he was supposed to say to Wendy. Maybe he could apologize, and they could just… leave everything that happened behind them.
He breathed deeply and tried to clear his head. Tried to focus on the feeling of the breeze against his face, and the warmth of the computer on his lap.
…
When Dipper opened his eyes, it took him several seconds to realize that something was off.
The creaking of the weather vane had stopped. The breeze was gone.
And the text on the laptop had changed.
WELL
WELL
WELL
Dipper shut the laptop violently and shot to his feet in a frenzy. His breath caught in his throat, and he scanned the roof and the ground beneath it for even a trace of a golden light.
But he couldn't see anything out of place. It was the roof, same as it always was.
In the end, he felt the presence before he saw it. It was like a weight pressing against his mind, threatening to smother it.
Following the presence, his eyes were drawn first to the stars which now looked quite dull, and then to the moon, which stared back at him from high in the sky, glowing a sickening yellow. A thin slit pupil cut across the surface of it, and held his gaze completely.
"You've had a lot on your mind, haven't you Pine Tree?"
The voice came from all sides: forward, behind, above, below, and even inside. The words echoed from the recesses of his brain, filling his thoughts– exactly like last time.
Dipper's eyes were wide as brilliant blue light gathered around the moon, coalescing into the shape of a triangle. Lines etched themselves onto the form of the triangle as if by the hand of an invisible sculptor, giving it the impression of a pyramid in two dimensional form. An inky black top hat materialized on the tip of the pyramid, somehow standing out against the darkness of night. Cartoonishly thin limbs erupted from the sides and bottom of the triangle. Finally, a bow tie sprouted below the eye.
"Bill!" he shouted, because it was all that he could think of in his shock.
The blue light exploded and became a blinding gold, and Bill Cipher's enormous eye crinkled.
"So glad you remember me! I was worried you might forget," Bill's nasally voice thundered.
As if he could ever forget. Their lives had been in danger more times than he could count since coming to Gravity Falls, but few threats they'd faced were anything close to the golden demon currently hovering in the sky.
"How could I?" He shouted back, pointing with the hand that wasn't clutching the briefcase to his side. "You worked with Gideon! You tried to destroy my uncle's mind!"
Bill shrunk in an instant, his form warping and twisting until he was only the size of Waddles. He fell from the sky, somehow remaining completely still and static, until he hovered only inches from Dipper's face.
His lone eye pretended at bashfulness. "It was just a job kid! No hard feelings! We all gotta do things we don't want to sometimes, am I right?" One of his arms extended, and looped all the way around Dipper's back to elbow him lightly on the opposite side.
Dipper shivered at the contact and stepped back, but Bill only got closer to compensate.
"But let's not dwell on the past, Pine Tree. How about the future instead?" His eye flashed like a television screen, showing a thousand grainy images in an instant, far too fast for him to register any of them. "I like that a lot better, and I'm sure you do too."
"The future?" Dipper repeated, fighting hard to keep the tremor out of his voice.
"Oh that got your attention didn't it kid?" Bill laughed his short stutter of a laugh. "Yeah, the future! Maybe you wanna hear about a certain someone." The demon's eye"brow" raised suggestively as he laughed again. "I'm sure you know who I'm talking about."
Dipper blinked, and Bill was gone. He turned around, searching wildly for a hint of the demon, but he only found a closed wooden door.
A door that he recognized.
The scent of Wendy's shampoo assaulted his senses, and he realized that he was on the porch of the Corduroy Cabin, alone. Just like he'd been when he tried to kiss her, and she ran inside.
"Or maybe you just want a hint about your other little problem," Bill's voice said, coming more from inside than out.
Again, Dipper blinked, but this time when he opened his eyes he took in his surroundings quickly.
It was the clearing outside the bunker, and it was sunset. He knew it despite the fact that the world now looked like a two AM rerun, because it was all still so fresh in his brain. The shadows on the trees, the mushrooms among the grass, the mossy log in the middle.
It was all exactly like it had been when Wendy tore his heart in two.
"You went through quite a bit to get your hands on that computer, didn't ya Pine Tree? Must burn to not be able to get into it."
Dipper grit his teeth. "Stop messing with my mind, Bill!"
Another blink, another space.
A bed and a closed door. Dim lights. It was where he'd found Wendy right before they left the party. It was where she'd first held his hand.
"I'm not messing with your mind, kid, this is your mind. It's all right there, right on the surface."
Dipper growled. Of course it was his mind. Bill was a dream demon, it was right there in the damn journal.
He was so stupid.
Shutting his eyes hard, he imagined himself right where they'd started the conversation, and when he opened his eyes again he was back on the Mystery Shack's roof.
Bill was hovering just where he'd last seen him.
His lone eye crinkled once again. "See? What'd I tell ya. Your mind your rules buddy. Heh heh."
Bill floated away lazily, toward the phantom cooler that usually housed a hoard of Pitt Cola. Despite the path the demon took, Dipper could only ever see Bill full on, as if he were wearing glasses, and a Bill sticker was stuck on the lens. A truly two dimensional being.
No matter how the demon moved, his eye faced Dipper. Always watching.
It was unnerving.
Bill popped open the cooler and inspected the insides. He grabbed a can of Pitt Cola, held it in his spindly inky black limb, and stared at it for a long moment.
"What do you want, Bill?" Dipper spat out.
Bill's eye refocused on him. "What do I want?" He dropped the soda can, and flew into Dipper's face. "What do you want?" Bill floated slightly further back. "I like you. You're persistent. You go through some tough stuff and you just keep truckin'. You've got problems, and I wanna help you out."
Dipper held the demon's gaze. He'd read the journal entry; he knew there was more.
A ghostly blue fire enveloped Bill's hand, and his voice lowered. "... I just want a little favor in return. It's only fair, and I know you're all about that."
Dipper was stupid, but not that stupid. The journal had said it in big red ink. Bill can't be trusted. He'd helped Gideon, and where did Gideon end up?
"Get out of my mind Bill," he ground out. "I'll never help you." Then, more bravely. "I defeated you last time, and I can do it again."
But Bill only laughed, and the blue fire was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Oh, you really think that, don't ya Pine Tree? Trust me, if I'd wanted to hurt you, you couldn't have stopped me." His eye glinted with amusement. "But that's all in the past! And I already told ya how I feel about the past, didn't I?"
The demon extended an arm, and rested his hand on Dipper's shoulder. Dipper tried to shrug it off, but Bill held him firmly.
"Kid, when you grow up, you'll find out that there are some things you just can't do on your own." He let go of Dipper's shoulder, and floated back even further, still facing Dipper completely. "If you change your mind, just holler! I'll be waiting!"
Bill exploded into a light so blinding that Dipper had to cover his eyes to shut out the rays. When the light dissipated, and he felt brave enough to open his eyes, the demon was gone.
Color seeped back into the world, and the breeze returned. The Shack's weather vane creaked as it began to spin again. Even crickets started to sing their songs.
Dipper released a shuddering breath.
"AND WATCHING," Bill's voice screamed from inside his mind–
THURSDAY
–and Dipper jerked awake.
Grunkle Stan's recliner was lumpy beneath him, poking him in all the ways that it really shouldn't. The television flickered silently as the grey static of late night public access TV fuzzed across the screen. He'd somehow fallen asleep with the laptop open on his lap, and the heat of it confirmed to him that he was in fact awake.
It had felt hot in the dream too, but there was a nameless difference that he couldn't put his finger on. It was just more in the physical world.
Dipper steadied his breath.
He couldn't believe how easy it was to forget. He hadn't been on the roof at all tonight, and somehow, in the dream, it had never even occurred to him that it might be off, not until Bill started messing with him.
The demon said it was all Dipper's mind, but he knew the reality of it. Bill lied. He was a demon, not some sort of triangular angel. Anything he could offer wouldn't be worth it.
He could... would figure out everything on his own. The password. The author. Wendy. He didn't need a demon's help. He trusted the author, and the author told him everything he needed to know about Bill Cipher.
Dipper stared at the blinking green underscore on the laptop screen and ground his teeth.
ENTER PASSWORD
Bill showing up again couldn't be a good thing. He was dangerous, and powerful. They were in danger. Him and Mabel and Grunkle Stan and maybe even more.
He needed to tell someone about the dream, just in case something happened.
A week ago it would have been easy; he'd have told Mabel in a heartbeat. Now though... Now he didn't want to tell her anything. He'd help her because he promised to, and that was it. If she was just going to keep using him, then that's what he was going to keep it to. The minimum.
Which left...
Dipper reached down for his pockets but failed to find them. He grumbled when he realized he was only in his boxers.
"Too tired."
He usually kept his phone near him, especially since– well, especially since Wendy had texted him again. They'd texted a few more times today (or was it yesterday?), but he'd tried hard to not let it feel like it meant something more.
They were just normal texts. Normal friendly texts. Just like this one was going to be. Friends relied on each other, didn't they?
Dipper fumbled around underneath his butt and around his legs trying to find his phone and failing. It had a way of getting lost whenever he got to use the recliner for longer than a few minutes, and trying not to knock the laptop onto the ground while he was searching didn't make it any easier.
He sighed, and jammed his arm down into the space between the armrest and the cushion, avoiding the sharpest bits of spring and whatever Grunkle Stan had dropped down there at one time or another. His fingers brushed something cool and hard, but he was disappointed when he pulled out the remote. Tossing it aside, he reached down the other side and was pleased to find his phone wasn't buried too deeply.
He second guessed himself as soon as he saw the time.
1:30 AM.
There was no way Wendy was still awake. Yeah, she liked to stay up late, she'd told him so herself; and yeah, she was late to work a lot, but there was no way–
–He shook his head. He was arguing against himself and he knew it. If she was awake, he'd tell her, and if not, he could tell her later.
He flicked over to his messages, and opened his conversation with Wendy. There'd been a slow spell in the Gift Shop earlier, and she'd asked him if he had any ideas for their long-postponed movie night. And of course he did, he'd just... found it a little tough to initiate conversation with her lately. Hell, he'd had trouble with that since the very first time they'd text messaged. He'd always tried to let her be the one to initiate conversation, because the thought that he might be bothering her made him want to shrivel up and–
–he shook his head again. He was getting sidetracked.
'hey wendy, u up by any chance?'
Dipper sent it before he could overthink any more than he already had.
He waited for five anxious minutes before he concluded that she was in fact asleep, and wouldn't see the text until the morning.
He flicked back over to his conversations. Besides Wendy, it was still only Mabel and Mom.
He wasn't sure if he was ever going to tell Mom about the stuff that happened in Gravity Falls, but he certainly wasn't going to tell her he thought they might be in danger right this very instant. That would be a surefire way to get her to order them back to Piedmont immediately. And Dipper didn't want that, not in the slightest.
He could barge into Grunkle Stan's room and wake him up, but Dipper knew he'd just think Dipper had a bad dream. His grunkle may have known about the weirder side of Gravity Falls all along, but he hadn't really been there when they'd dealt with Bill the first time. Despite the fact that they were in his mind.
Dipper rubbed his eyes and yawned.
He was way too tired to be dealing with any of this.
As long as no one took a deal with Bill Cipher, he was restricted to the Mindscape. Or at least, that's what Journal 3 said, and so far he had no reason to doubt it. Dipper wasn't about to make a deal with the monster that helped Gideon almost destroy the Shack, and he knew if Bill had visited Mabel in her dreams, the whole world would have known about it within five minutes.
So...
"It can wait," he mumbled.
Things were safe enough. He could deal with it later. He could tell Wendy, or Soos, or even Mabel once he was less annoyed at her.
Things would be fine.
Wendy took a bite out of her sandwich and let the taste of cheap sliced turkey and American cheese wash over her like a tidal wave. She was hungry, especially after the morning she'd had.
It was another day of chaos at the Mystery Shack, made even more chaotic by the storm of tourists that decided Thursday was the perfect day to stop at a junky tourist trap. Deflecting angry visitors, dealing with snooty customers demanding she giftwrap everything, reminding everyone there were no refunds a thousand times, and trying to keep something approaching a smile on her face the whole time. It was exhausting at the best of times, but it was the eve of Mabel's puppet show, and the whole house knew it.
"A shining star!" Candy's voice rang out from the living room, clear to Wendy even though she was in the kitchen, "No matter how far!"
"No, no, no, more passion!" shouted Grenda.
"I am doing my best!" Candy cried back mournfully.
Wendy could only chuckle and be glad that Mabel hadn't asked her to provide backing vocals herself. As she took another bite of her lunch and washed it down with a Pitt Cola (which she'd swiped from Mr. Pines' fridge), she decided that she'd never made a finer sandwich.
Her only regret was that she'd only made one.
Setting the other half of her sandwich down, she shoved a few potato chips in her mouth. The saltiness of them was probably even better than her sandwich, but before she could chomp on a few more for good measure, her phone buzzed suddenly. She quickly wiped her hand on her jeans to avoid getting her phone all salty, and flipped it open.
Ugh.
Robbie.
'C'mon baby, talk to me!'
Delete.
As she shoveled a few more off-brand chips into her mouth with her free hand, she stared at her inbox. Tambry hadn't texted her too much today for a change, so she could still see messages from the morning... and last night.
Two messages from Dipper stared back at her:
'hey wendy, u up by any chance?'
'nevermind, it's no big deal'
She'd still been waking up when she read the messages, so at first she hadn't thought about it particularly deeply, especially because she'd gotten up late and needed to rush to get to work. But something had tickled at the back of her brain, and so she double checked them while she'd chugged her morning coffee.
Both messages were sent past 1 AM, and the second one about twenty minutes after the first.
To her memory, he'd never texted her past midnight. In fact, she was reasonably sure he'd never even texted her past 10 PM or so. It had made her worry, ever so slightly.
"A guiding light," Candy sang, "in darkest night!"
Everything had been... fine on Tuesday, and even more fine on Wednesday. Two completely normal days that wouldn't have been out of place before.
Mabel (who was covering the Gift Shop for her on her lunch break) had let it slip that he'd been having trouble sleeping, so maybe he'd just wanted someone to talk to?
...Or maybe he'd been trying to broach that... other subject. The one she'd been doing her damnedest to avoid thinking about. The one that had been keeping her up at night.
(The one she should really try to talk to him about.)
Either way, he hadn't made an appearance in the gift shop that morning, and with all the customers demanding her attention she hadn't had a free moment to track him down.
She took another sizable bite from what remained of her sandwich and tried not to dwell too hard. Things were fine. Nothing had changed between them. Just two good friends and it was fine that way.
"Our love is bright," Candy continued, "a total delight!"
She shook her head in amusement; she was going to have a hard time sitting through the puppet show. She'd do it, because dammit, Mabel wanted her to be there, but it was going to be painful. These lyrics were... a little on the nose for her tastes.
Wendy sighed, and looked back at her phone. Maybe she should send a belated reply? She chewed on her lip as she mulled it over.
A soft 'oink' at her feet broke her out of her thoughts. She looked down, and saw the beady eyes of Waddles looking up at her expectantly.
"I know Mabel feeds you enough lil dude," she said, with her best 'stern older sister' voice. "You've got plenty of chub."
But the piglet only continued to stare at her, snuffling pleadingly.
God, he was just too cute for his own good
"Okay, I guess I'm feeling generous," she said as she tossed a chip to the floor.
Waddles snorted in approval and gobbled up the chip in a second, and then he was looking back up at her with the same 'Please feed me, I'm starving' look in his little piggy eyes.
"Sorry dude, these are my chips. The damn bag is half air as it is."
The pig was unmoved by her appeals to reason.
"Oh– hey Wendy."
Wendy jumped, and looked up to see Dipper standing in the entryway.
He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was a mess, which she could see clearly because he wasn't wearing his hat for a change. She could even see his birthmark peeking through his bangs, which she knew he did his best to hide.
"Sup dude," she said after a slightly too long pause. She offered him a smile. "Where've you been man? I looked in all your usual spots when I got my lunch break." The roof, his bedroom, the living room, even that couch by the back entrance!
His face fell a little, and Wendy felt a pang of guilt at her phrasing.
"I– Sorry, I was just trying to get away from all the noise," he said tiredly, while Candy hit a high note as if to prove his point. "Didn't get a lot of sleep, so I have a headache." He laughed breathlessly, and then stopped as quick as he'd started. "Oh, and I was in the, uh, secret room."
Wendy raised an eyebrow. "Secret room? Dude, how's that never come up?"
Dipper's face fell even harder, and Wendy felt like even more of an idiot.
"It's just this random backroom Soos found a couple weeks ago," Dipper replied. "It's got pretty thick walls, so it blocks out the sound a bit better."
She nodded as she munched on a few more chips. "Sounds like a pretty good hiding spot!" she said with her mouth full, "You been working on the password?"
Dipper waved his hand vaguely as he opened the fridge and found himself a soda. "Just a little bit," he said, "been working on props for Mabel, mostly. " He sat in the chair opposite hers and cracked open his soda with a sigh."Every time I turn around it's like she's got three more things she needs for the show." He took a sip, and then stared into space.
Waddles was at Dipper's feet now, and looking up at him just like he'd been looking at her, but Dipper didn't even seem to notice him.
"Hey, just one more day man, and then it's all over," Wendy said with what she hoped was comforting coolness as she finished off the last of her sandwich. "And then it's all mystery time again."
"Yeah," Dipper agreed before falling into a sullen silence.
Wendy could only frown in concern as she watched him. He was acting weird, but it wasn't like it had been on Monday, or even like it had been after she'd... turned him down.
After what felt like an eternity of thinking, she decided to just barrel on through, the way her dad would. "What was up this morning?" She asked, watching him closely. "The text messages, I mean. You've never texted that late before."
Dipper's eyes met hers briefly before he became very interested in his can of coke. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I just–" he chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before continuing. "I couldn't sleep, and everyone here was already out. And you've said you stay up late so–" He shrugged stiffly. "–yeah."
"Dude, it's cool! You don't gotta apologize." She would have punched him on the shoulder if he'd taken the seat closer to hers, but she couldn't reach from here. "You only missed me by like half an hour anyway. Why do you think I was late?" She asked, grinning cheekily.
Dipper finally looked away from his soda, and gave her a small, tired, smile. She counted it as a win.
She munched her way through the rest of her chips, while Dipper sipped his soda, and the two of them were serenaded by Candy's recording session. They took turns shaking their heads at some of the more absurd lyrics.
"How's Sunday sound, by the way?" She asked.
"Sunday?" he repeated, giving her a funny look.
"For movie night," she clarified, realizing she'd been less than clear. "I think we need to put a date on it–" she cringed internally, "–I'm tired of the delays. I need my bad movie fix, and I need it ASAP."
Dipper chuckled lightly. "Sunday works, I think. Just no zombies this time, please."
Wendy barked a laugh. "God, I still can't believe I missed that one! I walk away for ten seconds and you guys go on the craziest adventures. Totally unfair."
Dipper's smile widened. "I don't think you'd be saying that if you'd been there. It wasn't so fun in the moment."
"Man, how often do you get a chance to take an axe to a zombie? It would've been my moment!" She pantomimed an epic swing of her axe, complete with a gory sound effect.
Dipper laughed for real. "Alright!" He said, holding up his hands, "I believe you! Just put that thing away before you hurt someone.."
Wendy leaned back in her chair with a grin, feeling relieved to have gotten a real laugh out of him, even if it was just a little one. "So, does that secret room have a television?"
Furrowing his brow, Dipper scratched his chin. "Y'know, now that you ask I'm not so sure. I don't think so?"
"Well, double check and let me know, dude. Either way, I still wanna see that room one of these days." She went to sip her Pitt Cola, and realized that there were only a few drops left. She grumbled.
"Want another one?" Dipper asked, gesturing at the fridge behind him.
"Nah, thanks man, but it's probably about time I go back to work." She flicked open her cell phone to check the time, and... "Yep, been twenty-five minutes. Lunch break's over," she said flatly. Always too short.
Dipper's eyes narrowed. "I'm pretty sure you deserve a longer break. Like, legally."
Wendy shrugged as she scooped up all of her trash and stood up from the table. "That's the thing with getting paid under the table, isn't it? Don't get to argue about breaks!" She laughed, and waved. "See you later?"
And just like that, the tension was back.
Dipper looked at her for a long moment, the bags under his eyes stark as he stared. There was a look there, an unease, like there was something he wanted to say, but couldn't quite bring himself to spit out. But then he blinked, and it was gone.
"Yeah, see ya."
Wendy stood there lamely with her trash in her hand, hesitating to leave… wondering if she should push him, or dig into him, or just ask him flat out if something was wrong.
But instead, even though she didn't feel it, she just smiled at him, and waved again like she hadn't seen anything. Then she threw her trash into the garbage can, and left the kitchen in a rush, as if she were just trying to get back to work.
Wendy walked quickly through the hallway and into the living room, where she saw Candy and Grenda hard at work with their junky recording setup that Soos had lent them. She gave them a wordless thumbs up so as to not interrupt, and got four of them in return.
She entered the Gift Shop with her bravest face, and was relieved to see that it was something approaching normal. Besides Mabel, there were only a handful of customers milling around..
As soon as Mabel saw her, a big brace-filled grin broke out on her face. "Wendy! Have a good lunch?" she asked excitedly from behind the cash register.
Wendy shrugged noncommittally. "As good as I could."
"Aw, that doesn't sound like it was too good to me," Mabel replied with a frown. "I could handle the register a bit longer if you wanna go up to the roof!" She winked exaggeratedly. "I promise I won't tell Grunkle Stan."
Wendy considered her offer for a good few seconds, but then shook her head. "Thanks Mabel, but I think you gotta work on your show if you wanna finish in time for tomorrow. I dunno how much more of Grenda's direction Candy can handle."
Laughing, Mabel retreated from the register and let Wendy take her place. "Alright! Well, just let me know if you need another break. We girls need to stick together."
"Will do," Wendy replied with a grateful smile, as Mabel rocketed off to continue her preparations.
Alone with the customers and her thoughts, Wendy set about doing what she did best: papering over troubles with a veneer of cool control. She sifted through the stack of magazines behind the counter, and picked one out that didn't seem too vapid. It had an interview with an actor she didn't hate advertised on the front, which was better than nothing, she decided.
She leaned against the counter, propped her chin up with her hand, and half read her crappy magazine, and half watched the customers wandering around the gift shop gawking at the overpriced trinkets Mr. Pines sold.
She tried hard to not think about what was eating at Dipper, but failed miserably. She felt even worse because she knew she could've just asked him, but hadn't.
And why?
Because she was scared of a conversation? A conversation that had to happen?
Because every time they were alone together, it took all of her energy to pretend like nothing had changed?
How long could she keep it up? How long would she?
Wendy sighed, and looked up in time to see an elderly lady in a plaid dress dump an armful of souvenirs on the counter. Three mugs, a snow globe, and two little figurine copies of one of Mr. Pines' animal monstrosities, along with a bunch of postcards.
"Hello dear," the lady said with an apologetic nod, "could I get these gift wrapped, if you don't mind?"
"Of course," Wendy said, hoping her smile wasn't as strained as it felt.
She wasn't even done wrapping the first mug when the curtain to the museum floor flew open, as Mr. Mystery himself led fifteen more dopes into the gift shop like lambs to the slaughter.
"Remember everyone!" He called loudly, as the souvenir-hungry tourists scattered to the four corners of the gift shop. "No refunds!"
Wendy's smile was definitely strained now.
By the time Wendy clocked out for the day, the stream of tourists had slowed to a trickle, though, admittedly, most of that had happened in the last hour of her workday. She didn't know what stupid tourism company had decided to send all of their buses to Gravity Falls, but she wanted to find its manager and let him know how she felt about it. Corduroy style.
(How much of her annoyance was pent up frustration, she tried not to think about).
She was back in the kitchen, taking another Pitt Cola from the fridge and praying for its caffeine to work its magic quickly.
Idly, she wondered how many of her daily calories came from soda. Probably too much.
"Wendy, little help!" called Soos from the hallway.
"Coming!" She yelled back, regretfully setting her soda down on the counter.
Soos was at the door with half of a scale replica (his words) of the Mystery Shack in his arms, practically tapdancing to keep it steady while he waited for her to open the door so he could take it outside.
"Sorry dude! I was dying for a soda," she said as she squeezed around him and opened the door for him. Then she steadied it against him, and the two of them carried it outside.
"No problemo!" Soos replied with his usual good cheer. "I just didn't wanna drop it and have to spend all night fixing it up," he said with a laugh. "I could do it, but it wouldn't be easy."
The Mystery Shack's clearing was dyed gold by the beginning of sunset, and it was starting to cool down for the day, even if it only slightly. "Damn, it was way too hot today," she moaned. That was why she'd had her lunch inside for a change. AC all the way, baby.
Soos's eyes widened. "Oooh, curse words! Don't let Mr. Pines hear you say that."
Wendy stared at him in genuine disbelief. "You're kidding, right dude?"
Soos shook his head solemnly. "My abuelita always says that curse words are the devil's words!"
Wendy rolled her eyes as they stepped down the porch steps and onto the gravel. "I'm positive Mr. Pines curses when Mabel and Dipper aren't around."
Soos laughed deeply. "Oh, you shoulda heard him dude! He used to say things I can't even write on my blog."
"You have a blog?"
"How else can I share my wisdom?" he said sagely.
They made their way quickly to Soos's pickup truck, and set their load down gently next to the other stuff Soos had already piled in. The octopus alien monster was already there, its many arms sticking up absurdly, along with a cardboard tank, and a stuffed animal that she was reasonably sure was a unicorn. It was a bit of a mess.
"You've played Tetris, haven't you man? I'm sure you could organize this better," Wendy said, deadpan. "Something's gonna go flying and Mabel won't be happy."
Soos made a face. "Eh, I'm sure it'll be fine."
She shook her head. "Whatever you say…" Popping her back and stretching her shoulder, she remembered where she'd been going before she got sidetracked, "–and anyway, 'damn' isn't a curse word dude. If you can say it on primetime tv, it's fair game."
(She should know! She'd had exactly this argument with her dad when she first felt brave enough to drop a 'damn' where he could hear it. Dan Corduroy cursed like a sailor, but he was very much a 'do as I say and not as I do' sort of parent.)
When Soos didn't reply, Wendy glanced over at him, only to find him staring up the road that cut through the trees. Following his gaze, she noticed a black something speeding down the road.
"What is that?" Soos asked, his eyes narrowed.
"I dunno," Wendy replied, squinting to try to make it out. A couple seconds later and whatever it was got close enough for her to pick out a few things. "Is that... a rollerblader?"
It was some guy, hunched over like an Olympic skater, and blading (was that the verb?) as fast as he could straight down the road. He was wearing all black like some kind of Matrix extra, except for his pink helmet and his bright purple and green roller blades; she couldn't help but giggle watching him take it so seriously. Who rollerbladed anymore?
"I think so," Soos agreed, his voice tinged with awe.
Wendy could only snort as the (assumed) teen skidded to an artful stop nearby, kicking up a whole bunch of gravel as he did so. He took off his helmet, and shook out his luxurious golden blonde ponytail. His jaw was chiseled, and his eyes were a perfect baby blue. He was a bit shorter than Wendy, but looking at him, she had a bit of a hard time pegging an age other than 'probably younger than me'.
The blonde rollerblader looked from them to the Shack and then back, then smiled charismatically. "Does Mabel Pines live here?" he asked, like some sort of knight in shining armor.
Wendy only barely resisted the urge to barf while Soos nodded excitedly. "She's inside! Just go ring the doorbell, dude."
"Many thanks," the teen said with a smile, as he swung his ponytail around like a shampoo model and all-but sauntered toward the door.
But he hadn't even gotten to the steps when the front door flew open, and Mabel barreled out of the Shack with Candy and Grenda close at her heels. The three of them ground to a halt a few feet away from him, and Mabel went on closer, her eyes wide and sparkling (or close enough). In fact, all three of them looked at the blonde teen like he was some sort of god–
–Oh.
"Dude, this is the guy," Soos said, connecting the dots at the same time she did. "The puppet guy! Who she's doing all this stuff to impress!" He scratched at his stubbly chin. "What's his name again? Uhhhh…."
But Mabel shouted a greeting loud enough for them to hear even from a distance. "Gabe!"
Soos snapped. "Gabe, that's it. Was right on the tip of my tongue."
Wendy watched as the two of them chatted. She could only see the back of Gabe's head from here, but Mabel was all smiles, and for her, that was saying something. She kicked at the gravel like a giggling schoolgirl, laughing at something the guy said.
Yeah, this was definitely the guy.
"C'mon Soos, let's give 'em some privacy. We need to load up the rest."
Soos saluted like she was some military commander, and followed her as she went back to the Shack. She did her best to ignore what Mabel and her crush were saying, and gave them a wide berth.
Looking at the guy out of the corner of her eye as she passed, she was struck by how young Mabel looked standing next to him. His chin wouldn't have looked out of place on a grown ass man, and her cheeks were still pinchable for crying out loud!
Passing beside Candy and Grenda (and pretending not to hear the weird comments Grenda was making), Wendy walked up the porch steps and entered the Shack with Soos close at her heels.
"I'll meet ya in the living room," Wendy said as she closed the door behind them, "I need that caffeine."
Soos went on without her, and she stopped in the kitchen to grab the soda she left on the counter. Cracking it open with a hiss, she quickly chugged half of it in one go.
Ah.
Much better.
Soda in hand, she made her way back down the hallway and into the living room, where she saw the mess of puppets and props that Mabel and the production crew had left behind. Puppets representing each of Mabel's friends and family members rested on the recliner, including the puppet of Wendy that she herself had put together (and she was rather proud of, truth be told).
Waddles was sprawled out across the floor, various bits of fabric and craft supplies surrounding him like some sort of weird pig nest. She chuckled; he was in his element.
Soos was inspecting the puppets on the recliner, and looked over to her with a big grin on his face when he heard her laugh at Waddles.
"See!" he said, pointing excitedly at the puppets. "It's him! The love interest!"
And sure enough, the puppet laying next to the Mabel puppet had a golden blonde ponytail that she hadn't really noticed before. He even had blue googly eyes!
But despite the cuteness of the puppet, all she could think of was the real guy standing outside with three tweens hanging onto every swish of his ponytail.
"Yo, Soos," she called, feigning the highest degree of nonchalance she could, "is it just me, or does that guy look a little old for Mabel?"
Soos knelt down, and stuck his face really close to Gabe's puppet self. "I dunno, hard to tell. They all kinda look the same, y'know?"
Wendy rolled her eyes. "I mean the real guy."
"Oh!" Soos stood up and scratched his stubbly chin, thinking hard for approximately three seconds before he shrugged with a frown. "I think you're asking the wrong guy, dude." He said with a laugh, his expression brightening quickly. "You know girls better than me!"
"I don't know man," she replied, shaking her head, "I'm kinda starting to think that maybe I don't know 'em as well as I thought I did."
But Soos just laughed, and put his hand up in front of his mouth like he was trying to whisper something secretly. "Don't tell Mabel I told you this, but between you and me, you're still the coolest girl in the Shack."
Wendy couldn't help but smile at that. Sure, Soos was a twenty two year old with the heart of a kid, but still!
Taking a sip of her soda and then surveying the amount of stuff they still had to haul to Soos's truck before they took it all to the theater, it occurred to her that there was no reason they had to do it all by themselves. There was still a bit of muscle available, some muscle that she hadn't seen for most of the day.
"You seen Dipper?" she asked, trying not to sound too curious. He'd only popped into the gift shop once after she saw him on her lunch break, and that had only been to let her know that Mr. Pines was getting tired of treating everyone to dinner.
Soo's laughter was even louder this time. "Oh, he's out. Last I saw him he had a face full of keyboard!" Soos stopped laughing abruptly. "I did move the laptop though. That's a fire hazard."
Her smile faltered. Dipper definitely needed some rest, but–
"–Now c'mon dude, we need to reunite the Shack with its other half," he said, nodding his head toward the remaining part of his Shack replica leaning against the wall.
Wendy walked backwards as they carried it this time, and they'd gotten it halfway to the front door when the door burst open with enough force that Wendy would've been surprised if it didn't leave a mark on the wall.
"Emergency, emergency!" Mabel shouted, "all hands on deck!" She squeezed past them with little trouble as she raced to the living room, with Candy following close behind.
Grenda attempted the same, but due to her size, she nearly knocked the Shack right out of their arms. "Sorry!" she wailed as she rushed after her friends.
Only Wendy's quick reflexes saved the Shack from utter destruction; she shifted her weight and managed to keep it steady before it could fall out of their hands, but the surge of adrenaline left her feeling a bit giggly.
"What was that about?" Soos wondered aloud, staring in the direction of the living room.
Wendy shrugged her shoulders slightly (she didn't want to drop the damn thing!) and chuckled. "Let's just get this in your truck before another storm rolls through."
Luckily, the door was already open for them, so it was an easy process to get it outside. As soon as they were both on the porch, they reoriented so that they could walk side by side and neither would have to walk backward down the steps.
Wendy spied a black blur at the end of the road heading back up the way it came, and this time she managed to contain her laugh, as much as she really wanted to.
Seriously, who rollerbladed anymore?
This time when they plopped Soos's creation next to its other half, Wendy took extra care to shift it around a bit for stability. She wasn't quite as confident in Soos's ability to make a whole new wooden Shack model if the pieces went flying while they were driving. They barely had twenty four hours until show time, and Mabel still needed to set everything up at the theater.
"Now let's go see what the emergency is," Wendy said, dusting her hands off.
When they got back inside, Wendy was pleased to find that at least nothing had caught on fire, so it couldn't be too bad of an emergency.
Stepping into the living room revealed a bit of a different story, however.
Grenda was pacing with puppet Grenda on one hand and puppet Candy on the other, eyeing them both like they owed her money. Mabel was scrambling around with several spools of thread and assorted fabrics cradled in her arms, periodically stopping, picking another up off the ground, and tossing it on top of the pile. Candy was nowhere to be seen, but the sound of footsteps thumping from upstairs told Wendy what she needed to know.
Even Waddles was awake now, staring at the girls as they made the messy room even messier.
"Wendy!" Mabel blurted when she noticed her. "Take the rest of the puppets into the kitchen! Hurry!"
"And me?" Soos asked, pointing at himself with wide eyes.
"Keep loading the props into your truck, we're gonna be cutting it close!" Mabel ordered.
Wendy quickly scooped up all the puppets that had been on the recliner, and took them into the kitchen as Glorious Leader commanded. She laid them down across the kitchen table, and then waited for further orders like a loyal soldier of the Mabel regime.
Candy soon arrived in the kitchen with the sewing machine Wendy had lent them in her arms, while Mabel and Grenda filtered in only seconds later.
(They really were three peas in a pod.)
"Okay!" Mabel said, slamming her fist in her palm. "We need to redo the stitching on every single one of these puppets. They need to be perfect; Gabe won't accept anything less!"
Wendy frowned. All of them?
Candy and Grenda were babbling about the difference between cross stitching and single stitching while Mabel plugged in the sewing machine to the nearest power socket. Of course, that ended up being the toaster's usual socket, so the sewing machine's cable dangled between the table and the counter, ready to trip the next person that walked by without noticing.
"Yo, Mabes, do you really need to redo all of them?" she asked, her eyes lingering on the collection of puppets staring back up at them from the table. It was four days worth of work, and even if it was just the stitching, that would take some time. "I thought you still had to rehearse, and me 'n Soos still need to take everything up to the theater."
And tomorrow the girls and Soos would be setting up while Wendy stayed at the Shack to cashier like usual. She wasn't sure they had time to redo puppets on top of everything else.
Mabel chewed on her bottom lip as she stared at the puppets. She groaned. "Ugh, Wendy, I don't know!" She snatched up the Gabe puppet from the pile, and held its googly gaze longingly. "I have to impress him, or all of this was for nothing."
"Alright, how about this," Wendy began delicately, "just focus on the big ones. The most important characters for your show. You. Him. Grenda 'n Candy. Whoever else is gonna show up a bunch!" Wendy honestly wasn't totally sure, she'd kinda turned off her brain whenever Mabel started to explain the plot of her opera. "Me, Dipper, Soos, everyone else, I don't think we matter so much. No one'll notice if we aren't up to snuff, not even Mr. Ponytail."
Mabel turned her big brown sparkly eyes on Wendy. "Are you sure?"
Wendy punched her lightly on the shoulder. "C'mon dude, if he can't see all the work you've put into this because of a few wonky background characters, I don't think he's worth your time."
Mabel gaped at her, holding the Gabe puppet close to her chest. "Of course, he's worth it!" she gasped, affronted. "Did you even look at him?"
Wendy rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. "Yeah I did, and if I'm being honest he looks a little too old for you, girlfriend," she teased.
A small blush bloomed on Mabel's cheeks. "He's only fourteen," Mabel huffed, clutching the puppet even tighter.
"Fifteen in December," Candy added, her blush even more apparent on her pale skin. "I checked his Facebook." She giggled behind her hand.
Wendy's eyes widened. "Jeez Mabel, that guy's practically my age!"
"My birthday's coming up soon," Mabel argued as she puffed out her chest. "Then I'll be thirteen, and who cares after that?"
Wait.
She looked hard at Mabel for a beat. "When's your birthday?" Wendy asked, her heart beating ever so slightly faster.
"August 31st," Grenda answered for her excitedly. "We're gonna have a partay!"
That was only two and a half years.
"Yeah!" Mabel agreed, determination flaring to life in her eyes, "and it's gonna be awesome, just like my show!" She set the Gabe puppet down next to the rest of them, and then quickly divided them into two groups. "We can just focus on the most important ones," she said, nodding in Wendy's direction. "Gabe'll be so entranced by the romance, that he won't even notice a shabby puppet or three."
Grenda hooted, and Candy wheeled around to take the seat beside the sewing machine. Mabel picked up her puppet self, and slid it over to Candy.
Wendy wet her suddenly dry lips. "So–uh... we can take these to the theater?" she asked lamely, gesturing at the larger pile.
"Load em up!" Mabel replied, laughing.
Wendy scooped up the larger pile and left the kitchen as the girls got to work on the few puppets that remained behind, their excited chattering filling her ears.
She struggled briefly with the front door, her hands strangely useless for her, but managed to somehow get outside without dropping any of the puppets.
With each crunch of gravel beneath her feet, her heart beat one step faster; with each beat of her heart, her thoughts inched closer to the inevitable end of the road.
August 31st.
Not even a month away.
Fumbling with the handle to the rear door of Soos's truck, she at last got it open, only narrowly avoiding a puppet spill. She dumped the sock puppets on the back seat, careful to not let any fall to the floor, even as her heart thudded in her chest.
But as she made to close the door, she glanced back, and her breath hitched.
Dipper's puppet lay entwined with her own, their stringy hands all jumbled up and wrapped around each other.
Suddenly…
…two and a half years didn't feel quite so far apart.