Chapter 17 | Catching Shadows III
"Ow…" Dipper sucked in the air between his teeth.
Wendy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, squirming's totally gonna make this better. Great plan, dude."
Dipper dropped his head, resting it in his hand as he leaned forward in the kitchen chair.
"I know, it just hurts, okay!"
For the past twenty minutes, Wendy had been stitching up the wound on the back of Dipper's shoulder. The kitchen table was littered with all kinds of supplies. Bandages, gauze, tape, scissors, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide laid cluttered in the middle.
A bead of sweat slid down his temple, stinging as it met a cut on his neck. He turned towards the table, staring at the bottle of peroxide. He felt his body tense up, his fingers twitching as he remembered the pain when Wendy cleaned out the wound.
Soos, Melody, and Mabel stood around the table and watched as Wendy methodically laced the thread and closed his wound. Dipper winced, his face turning white while he tried to ignore the searing pain coming from his shoulder blade. His hands curled into fists in his lap. Part of him hated this. Hated being the weak link. Hated needing help.
Handling things like this was supposed to be his thing. He was the one who had the answers, the one who knew what was lurking in the dark. But now? Now he was just a kid with an aching shoulder and no clue how to stop whatever was coming next.
His mind stalled. The journal. His eyes locked onto it—its blue cover bold against the grain of the wood. Isolated from everything else that lay cluttered on the table. A breath he hadn't realized he was holding slipped out. Right there. Right where it always—
His fingers twitched toward it. But as soon as his skin brushed the cover, he hesitated.
Right…
It was his journal, but it wasn't the journal. He swallowed hard, forcing his hand back to his lap.
He didn't have the journals anymore. The ones filled with decades of secrets, warnings, and instructions—were gone. Probably rotting at the bottom of a pit with no end. Every time he was in trouble, the journal was there for him. It was that one item of security, a way for him to feel in control. And without them?
He felt bare. Vulnerable in a way he hadn't since Weirdmageddon.
He closed his eyes, thinking about what Wendy told him before he left.
But you don't have the journals this time…
He knew she was right, and he ended up panicking on the spot, telling her he would be fine. But he needed the journal. He needed that anchor—something solid to grip onto when the world stopped making sense.
His eye twitched. Each pull of the thread sent a sharp tug through his shoulder, a slow and steady burn that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. His knuckles turned white against the chair's arms, his body rigid as Wendy worked.
Mabel looked at Dipper, his face pale from the pain. She set a hand on his leg, shaking it.
"Hey if you let me patch you up, I can make it rainbow colored?"
Dipper met her eyes, a smirk forming in the corner of his mouth.
"Yeah…I don't know how I would feel about that."
Mabel brushed him off, squeezing her first into the air. "Come on Dipper, the pain would be worth it!"
Wendy's head popped up from behind his back as she let out a chuckle. "Either way, you're gonna have a sick scar dude."
Dipper's head perked up at the thought.
"Huh. Well… could be worse."
Wendy cleaned the blood around his shoulder, shaking her head. "Dip, what the heck, dude? You told me you'd be fine."
She tied the thread and set her tools down on the table. Then she stood up, exchanging a look with Mabel before crossing her arms. "And this," she gestured vaguely at his stitched-up shoulder, "is not fine."
Dipper sank into his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. "I thought we were going to be. It's just…" He trailed off, the words catching in his throat.
Wendy crouched in front of him, grabbing his shirt off the chair beside him and handing it over. Her voice softened.
"It was that bad?"
Dipper sighed, slipping the shirt on slowly while his shoulder ached. "To be honest? It went south fast. Whatever that thing was, it's way more dangerous than I expected."
Wendy let out a breath, rubbing the back of her neck.
"Yeah, no kidding. And here I thought you'd be fighting off gnomes or, like, evil raccoons—not, what did you say it was again?"
Dipper swallowed, "Some sort of living shadow, maybe a type of ghost? I'm not sure." He winced as a sudden wave of pain throbbed from his shoulder.
Wendy's gaze softened a bit as she put a hand on his shoulder. "Next time, call me. Or someone. You're smart, but you're not invincible, dude."
Dipper looked up at her, exasperated. "I can't let this go, Wendy. If I don't figure out what's happening, who else will?"
His head dropped towards his chest as he looked down at the uneven floorboards of the shack, muttering to himself.
"I can't let it hurt Pacifica again."
He was just loud enough for Wendy and Mabel to hear. They exchanged a glance as his words settled. Mabel's eyes widened as she took a frantic step towards him.
"Pacifica? What happened, is she okay?"
Dipper looked at Mabel, then off to the side towards the window. The moonlight was casting a gentle hue against the gradient of the pine trees around the shack. It was getting late, and he could feel the heavy pull of exhaustion making his body want to crumble onto the ground.
He turned back towards Mabel, rubbing his eyes as he grabbed his journal from the table.
"She's fine now Mabel, don't worry. I just need some sleep, okay? We'll talk about it in the morning."
Mabel's frown deepened, eyes searching Dipper's face. She could tell that there was something wrong. She reached a hand out towards him.
"Dipper, come on. If something happened, you have to tell me." She pulled her hand back and crossed her arms.
"Do I need to make my serious face?"
Dipper forced his mouth to yawn, shrugging her off. "I'm fine, it's not like this is the first time I've gotten banged up."
"Alright, fine," Mabel muttered, but the concern didn't leave her face.
Wendy gave him a nudge in the side. "Alright, dude. But if you somehow get mauled by a shadow after all of this, I'm kicking your butt."
Soos gave Dipper a thumbs up while Melody smiled at him. "We'll be here in the morning for you, dude!"
Dipper gestured back as he headed toward the stairs, his legs heavy and sore. By the time he collapsed onto his bed, his mind was already racing. It was too fast for sleep, too tired from everything that had happened. The journal rested on his chest, the weight of it pressing against his ribs like an unspoken demand.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and opened his chat with Pacifica. His last message blinked back at him:
Are you okay?
No reply. Not even a read receipt.
Dipper frowned. He knew her phone was dead when they dropped her off, but still. She should have texted him by now… right? His brain immediately latched onto worst-case scenarios.
What if she wasn't okay? What if it wasn't done with her?
He let out a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut. She's fine. Stop worrying.
But it didn't feel that simple.
He reached for his pen on his dresser, fingers tightening around it as he sat up and opened the journal. He wanted to throw it all onto the pages, but the words wouldn't come.
The times he used his journal, it had always been his way of making sense of the impossible, of turning fear into knowledge. But tonight, every thought, every feeling, every word sat like lead in his mind —too heavy to lift, too tangled to unravel.
The figure's eyes stared back at him from the page, hollow and unblinking. He could imagine it, that stare the figure gave him when he was running away. The one that was so unrelenting, so cold. Pacifica had drawn them, but they felt more real than any sketch should. The way they bore into him, like they knew something he didn't.
He shuddered and tore his gaze away.
His hand hovered over the journal, pen still poised to write.
I should document everything I saw. I should figure out how to stop it.
But what was he supposed to say? His mind surged, desperately trying to think of everything about the figure.
Some kind of entity—attached to the Northwest family—erases memories. Can only be seen in reflections and shadows. Doesn't like light. Took Pacifica's memory. Could've taken mine.
That last thought echoed, stopping his breathing. His mind skidding to a halt.
Could've taken me.
His grip on the pen tightened.
He had survived Weirdmageddon. He had faced monsters and demons, ghosts and cryptids. But this was different. This wasn't something he could punch or outsmart—not when it could erase every clue, every step forward.
And yet, he couldn't let it win.
He exhaled sharply through his nose and pressed the pen to the page—only for his hand to still.
Nothing.
Just empty space.
He clenched his jaw.
The words were there, he knew they were, but something—something—was keeping them locked away. Like if he put them on paper, he'd be inviting the thing to notice him again.
Like the act of remembering was dangerous.
Dipper shut the journal and let it drop onto the floor beside him.
He lay back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the Shack creak with the wind.
Tomorrow. He'd try again tomorrow.
For now, he just had to hold onto what he knew. Because if he lost that—if he lost the truth—he didn't think he'd get it back.
Dipper picked up his phone from his dresser, quickly throwing on a clean shirt while he stared at the chat on the screen. Three bubbles bounced up and down near the corner, his mind filled with anticipation. A message suddenly popped up.
I told you I'm fine. Also, my parents grounded me and froze my cards. It's so unfair. Totally illegal.
He forced a subtle smile, but it didn't shake the unease clawing at his conscience. Pacifica had messaged him in the morning, saying she was busy and couldn't talk last night. Now, he scrolled through their chat, eyes skimming over each text, each word, trying to decipher what wasn't being said.
It didn't matter how many times he asked; it was always the same. Her texts were short, stripped of teasing jabs.
Just a wall.
She kept deflecting, and Dipper could tell something was wrong. That thing had left a mark on her—deeper than any weird footprint he'd ever tracked in the woods.
He let out a sigh, thumbs hovering over the keyboard.
What was he supposed to do? Push harder and watch her shut down, or back off and pretend it didn't bother him?
His thumbs pressed down on the keys.
Just checking. Also, yeah, it's actually super legal. Trust me, I've read about it.
He slid his phone into his pocket and grabbed his journal from the bed. A knock on the door made him pause.
"Yeah?"
Mabel's voice came softly from the other side. "Hey bro, you okay in there? You didn't say much last night."
Dipper walked over and opened the door, meeting her concerned gaze with a small, reassuring look.
"I'm fine, Mabel. Trust me." He rolled his shoulder—only to wince. "…Okay, maybe still a little sore." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.
Mabel smirked, nudging him with her hip. "Should've let me do that rainbow, dumb-dumb."
"Whatever, dumb-dumb." He rolled his eyes, but the smile crept in anyway. Mabel's energy was infectious like that.
Then his grip tightened slightly on the journal. "Come on, let's head downstairs. I've got some ideas on how to stop this thing."
He started toward the steps, motioning for her to follow. Mabel fell in beside him as they headed to the kitchen. Last night's memories still pressed at the edges of his mind. He clutched the journal a little tighter.
I hope I have the words this time…
He walked through the kitchen, making his way towards the table with Mabel close behind. Wendy and Soos were already seated, food in front of them. Wendy picked at her food, holding up a bacon strip. It was dark, almost charred. She eyed it suspiciously.
"Dude, how long did you let this sit in the pan?"
Soos shrugged. "Oh, that? That's strategic crispiness dude. You never know when you'll need an extra emergency toothpick."
She stared at Soos, dropping the bacon onto her plate.
"Yeah, I think I'll pass."
Soos, unfazed, happily crunched on his. "More for me, dudes."
Dipper reached the table, looking at the food. As he examined the plate in front of Wendy, he gave a grim expression.
"So, uh… yeah, that's definitely a thing that exists."
Mabel patted his shoulder as she slid into a seat beside Soos. Dipper sighed, defeated.
"I'll eat later."
Wendy turned to him. "Alright, what's the deal, dude?"
Dipper hesitated, fingers tightening around the worn edges of his journal. The warm scent of breakfast lingered, but his appetite had disappeared hours ago. He set his journal down, running his fingers over the grooves in the table. His thoughts raced. How was he even supposed to explain this? Everything that had happened last night—everything Pacifica wasn't saying—he barely understood it himself.
Mabel tilted her head, watching him. "Dipper?"
He exhaled, gripping the table a little tighter. "Okay… this is going to be a lot."
The energy at the table shifted. Mabel's usual smile softened as she leaned in. Wendy straightened a little in her chair, waiting. Dipper flipped to last night's frantic notes.
"When we met Pacifica at the diner, she was trying to figure out how her family got their money back so fast. It didn't make sense to her. Too sudden, too convenient. She figured there had to be someone else pulling the strings."
He tapped the journal.
"So she started digging. Made a list of businesses in town—places that went under right before her parents' fortunes changed. She wanted to see if there was a pattern. But then, out of nowhere, she calls me in the middle of the night, asking for help. We met near the water tower, and… something had happened."
Everyone was holding their breath, hanging onto Dipper's words. Mabel slowly interjected.
"What a way to set up a date. Was she okay?"
Heat crept up the back of his neck.
"It was not a date, Mabel. And she was okay… sort of." He flipped to another page in the journal.
As he slid it onto the center of the table, the energy shifted again—lower, heavier. The rough sketch Pacifica had scribbled into his notes stared back at them, inked in frantic, jagged lines.
"I think this thing attacked her the night before… in her dad's study." His throat felt tight. "And the worst part? It erased her memories."
The weight of his words settled over the table. Wendy's eyes widened as she set her hands down, palms flat.
"Woah, dude. It can erase memories and junk?"
Dipper nodded. "When we met by the water tower, she kept saying how hazy everything was. That she couldn't remember what she was doing the night before. But that means one thing—it means she was close. Close to figuring something out. And whatever this thing is… or whoever's behind it… they didn't want her knowing."
He took a breath. "So we started narrowing it down—businesses that shut down right before her parents got their money back. And one stood out: Putt Hutt."
Mabel scrunched her nose. "Ugh, yeah. I don't miss that place."
Dipper continued. "When we got there, it was boarded up, abandoned—like the owner just left in a hurry. And get this—" He pulled out his phone, swiping to his texts with Pacifica. "—I found some invoices. Their profits? Went straight into the negatives before they shut down. And then Pacifica found this."
He set his phone down next to the journal. The screen lit up with a picture of a soggy eviction notice, its text faded but still legible. The sight of it made Mabel's expression shift, her teasing edge falling away.
"So… they really just got rid of the poor nerdy guy who ran the place?"
Dipper picked up his phone, staring at the image. "That's what it looks like. But we don't know what happened to him. It's not like any of us knew him personally."
Wendy frowned. "Yeah… but what happened at the golf course, dude?"
Dipper looked down at the journal page, at the sketch of those empty, staring eyes.
"Well… after we found the invoices and the eviction notice, it started messing with things. Our footsteps echoed wrong, like they were out of sync. It felt like the whole place got darker. And then—" He swallowed. "It attacked."
Mabel leaned in. "Wait, attacked attacked?"
Dipper nodded. "The second it touched Pacifica, she just… dropped. Like she was gone. Like something had pulled her into a dream, or—or somewhere else." His grip tightened on the table. "I tried asking her about it after, but… you know how she is."
Mabel's voice was unusually quiet. "It's probably for the best, Dipper. Who knows what she saw."
His head hung low for a second. "Yeah, I know."
He took a deep breath, then straightened, looking back at the group.
"The important thing is—I was able to wake her up. And we figured out one of its weaknesses. We drove it off."
He rubbed his arm, voice full of uncertainty.
"For now, anyway…"
Silence hung over the table, heavy with uncertainty. No one spoke, the weight of what they'd just faced settling in. Wendy tapped the journal in front of Dipper.
"So, what's the play?"
Dipper exhaled, staring at the journal for a beat before pulling out his pen. Slowly at first, then frantically, he scrawled across the page, his mind racing to connect the dots.
"I think I've got a theory. Just give me a sec."
After a few moments, he clicked his pen and turned the journal around for everyone to see. Across the top of the page, scrawled in his usual hurried script, was a title:
Figure's Weaknesses
He pointed at the first bullet point, reading it out loud.
"Light stuns it."
"Whatever that thing was, it doesn't like light. Just shining my flashlight on it was enough to stop it in its tracks. Using the lights on a golf cart we found was enough to drive it off."
He moved his finger down.
"Physical contact erases memories and traps victims in a dream-state."
Dipper hesitated, his fingers tightening on the journal as a vivid image flashed through his mind—Pacifica, still and pale, blood trailing down her arm. His hand twitched before he forced himself to keep going.
"The only way to wake someone up is through pain—specifically, a cut."
Wendy and Soos exchanged a glance while Mabel's expression twisted in alarm.
"Wait," she said, sitting up straighter. "Is that why Pacifica had a bandage on her arm?"
Dipper nodded, the words spilling out quickly, almost as if trying to reason with himself.
"I had to. I tried everything to wake her up, but nothing else worked…"
Wendy exhaled through her nose, nodding with her eyes closed before turning toward Dipper.
"I can't blame you, dude. I would've done the same thing."
Mabel shrank back slightly in her seat, her lips pressing into a thin line. After a pause, she gave him a small nod.
Dipper pushed forward, moving his finger down the page.
"The figure is made of shadows and can hide in darkness and reflections."
And finally, the last point.
"It follows a pattern before attacking."
He tapped the final bullet. "Based on what Pacifica told me about her experience and what happened at Putt Hutt, it seems to have certain tendencies.
At first, it lurks—messing with sounds, flickering in the shadows, staying just close enough to make you feel watched. But once you find something tied to its presence—like when Pacifica found that eviction notice—that's when it escalates. That's when it attacks."
Wendy motioned toward Dipper's shoulder. "Yeah, clearly this thing doesn't mess around."
Mabel exchanged a glance with Soos, concern flickering in her eyes. "Then we need to be careful. How do we get rid of it?"
Dipper turned the journal back toward himself, skimming his notes, trying to piece together a plan.
"Well… this would be a lot easier if I actually remembered that incantation to get rid of ghosts and spirits."
Soos took a swig from his milk and set the cup down with a thoughtful nod. "Dudes, this thing is totally like a vampire, right?"
Dipper looked up. "Not even close, Soos."
Soos tapped his chin. "Hmm." Suddenly, his eyes widened as inspiration struck. He grinned and sat up straighter.
"Wait. This totally reminds me of that one anime I watched! If it doesn't like light, why don't we just, y'know, take it outside into the sun?"
The table went silent.
Everyone slowly turned to Soos.
Dipper let his journal drop slightly to his side, giving him a long look. "…That's… actually not a bad idea."
Wendy raised a brow. "But it's been lurking in the dark for a reason. Getting it out into the sunlight won't be easy."
Mabel nudged Soos with her elbow. "Maybe we can lure it out with something." She perked up suddenly, clasping her hands together as she turned to Dipper.
"Ooh, do you think it likes art?"
Dipper deadpanned. "Absolutely not."
Mabel pouted. "Worth a shot."
Wendy leaned against the table, crossing her arms. "Mabel might have a point, though. If we can keep it distracted long enough, we might be able to bait it into a spot where the sun can do its thing."
Dipper snapped his fingers. "Then we set a trap. But we'd need the right kind of bait."
The group fell silent, minds turning over possibilities—until Dipper's phone buzzed in his pocket.
Frowning, he pulled it out, reading the message. A beat passed before he glanced up at the others, an idea forming in his head.
"…I think I've got something." His grip tightened around the phone. "I just don't think she's gonna like it."
Moments later, the group sat around the table, bemused, as Pacifica's voice blared through Dipper's phone.
"Dipper, are you an idiot? Did you not see what that thing did to us!?"
Dipper winced, shifting uncomfortably as Pacifica's frustration hit full force.
"There is no way I'm summoning that thing again! Are you out of your mind?!"
He sighed, gripping the phone a little tighter. "Pacifica, I know it seems risky, but—"
"Risky, Pines? Did getting thrown into a pirate ship shake something loose in your brain?! That thing is no joke!"
Dipper hesitated.
"…Ouch."
There was a pause on the other end—shuffling, a soft exhale. When Pacifica spoke again, her voice was quieter, the sharp edge dulled.
"Sorry. I… I didn't mean that. I've just been on edge since my parents grounded me and, you know… that stupid golf course."
Dipper ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath. "I get it." He glanced at the others, their expressions expectant.
"I know this is a lot to ask," he admitted. "And, yeah, we don't have a perfect plan yet… but we need you."
His grip tightened on the phone.
"I need you, Pacifica."
Silence.
The group exchanged glances as they waited for Pacifica's response. A few moments passed before she sighed on the other end.
"Look, even if I wanted to help, it's not like I can just walk out of here. I'm on thin ice with my parents. The butlers practically have me on lockdown until the pageant in a couple of days."
Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose. Right…
Her words hit him like a train. What could they do? The Northwests weren't exactly the understanding type.
Wendy, noticing his expression, leaned forward. "Maybe we can…distract her parents somehow?"
Dipper looked up, Pacifica going silent over the phone. He mulled it over. "That's definitely an option, but I don't know if it'd be enough to actually get her out of the manor."
Before Pacifica could weigh in, Soos perked up.
"Wait, guys—I got this."
The room went still. Everyone turned to Soos, half expectant, half concerned.
He grinned. "Melody's running the Shack for me today!"
Wendy's eyes widened. "Wait… and that means there's a town meeting this afternoon…"
Soos nodded sagely. "Yep. Ever since you dudes left, Mayor Cutebiker's been holding these, like, big meetings for all the important town figures. And, uh… he really likes to talk. So they always start late and go on for hours."
"The time changes depending on his schedule," he continued. "Buuut last time, he said I get to pick when the next one happens."
Wendy snapped her fingers. "And Pacifica's parents always go to those!"
Dipper's mind clicked into place. "So if she can't leave the mansion… we'll just come to her!"
A slow grin spread across Wendy's face. Mabel's eyes sparkled with mischief. The group exchanged looks as a plan started to take shape.
Mabel beamed at Soos and poked his stomach. "Soos, you genius!"
Pacifica, however, did not share the enthusiasm.
"You're going to WHAT?!"
Everyone flinched as her voice blasted through the phone, yanking them back to reality.
Dipper gulped, scrambling for words. "Well—uh—we… some of us will keep your parents busy at the meeting, and the rest of us will, um… meet you at the manor to stop this thing?"
Wendy nodded. "Soos, how late can you push the meeting? Timing's gonna be key here."
Soos rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. Last one ended around midnight, so… I could probably drag it out to, like, 3 a.m., dog."
Wendy clicked her tongue. "That's still a lot of time we'd have to manage."
Mabel tapped Soos' arm rapidly. "That's fine, right? We can find a way to distract them when they get back! The place is huge, right?"
Dipper nodded, already thinking ahead. "If we set something up on the other side of the manor, they'll have to check it out. That gives us time to slip in and set up."
Wendy pumped a fist. "Dude, I've always wanted to break into a mansion."
Pacifica made a strangled noise on the other end.
"You guys are NOT breaking into my house!"
Dipper turned to his phone, tapping his fingers as he considered his next words carefully. Then, with a small shrug—
"…Pacifica, if you let us in, technically, we wouldn't be breaking in."
Silence.
She wanted to be mad. She wanted to argue. But the worst part? He wasn't wrong.
She let out a long, frustrated groan.
"Ugh, fine! There's a spot through the fence in the backyard you can slip through. I'll get you guys in through the backdoor." A pause. Then, a quieter, more defeated sigh:
"Oh my gosh, I am so dead after this…"
The phone call hadn't ended yet.
Pacifica was still on the line, but she'd gone quiet—probably processing the fact that she had willingly agreed to let this group of misfits infiltrate her home in the middle of the night.
Around the Shack's kitchen table, papers, notebooks, and a half-empty bag of gummy worms were scattered across the surface. The planning frenzy had left behind a chaotic mess, but for once, they had a plan. It was the afternoon now, and the rays of sunlight were beaming down onto the shack and through the window. The warmth of the sunlight spread over the group like a wide blanket.
Dipper exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose before leaning forward. "Alright, let's go over this one more time."
Mabel shifted beside him, hugging Waddles a little tighter than usual.
"Okay, so," he continued, pointing at the scribbled notes in front of them. "Soos will start the town meeting at eight, stretch it as long as possible, and keep her parents locked in there. Wendy and I will head to the manor just before midnight, sneak through the backyard fence, and meet Pacifica at the back entrance. Mabel—"
He stopped. She was staring at him, her expression unreadable.
Dipper frowned. "Mabel?"
She blinked, snapping out of it. "Oh. Yeah. Uh—right, and I'll be…" She hesitated, then forced a grin. "Watching the Shack, duh!"
Dipper narrowed his eyes slightly, sensing something unspoken. That wasn't part of the plan. She was always up for an adventure, so why—
Wendy leaned back in her chair, propping her feet up. "Hey, should we loop Stan in on this? Just in case?"
Soos frowned, shaking his head. "Tried calling him earlier, dude. No answer. Ford's not picking up either."
That got Dipper's attention.
The idea of going into this without backup from at least Stan made his stomach twist a little. Not that he didn't trust their plan—he did. But still… something felt off. Why wasn't he picking up?
Mabel was still quiet.
And that's when he realized—she wasn't just worried about the plan.
She was worried about him.
He sighed, looking at Mabel.
"Mabel, I'm going to be okay. Don't worry."
She sank into her seat, doubt crawling into her mind.
"I…I know."
What else was she supposed to say? Or even think for that matter? When she left him alone like part of her thought she should, he ended up getting hurt. She missed out, and she couldn't help but think that if she was there, she could have helped. Her mind was hesitating, stuck between helping and staying. Could she trust that he would be okay?
Can I trust myself to let him go?
…To stay?
These thoughts had managed to break through the depths of her mind, all the way towards her surface. She knew Dipper could probably see it on her face. The concern, the hesitation, the fear. That deep urge in her, that sisterly instinct to protect, it wouldn't go away.
She didn't want him to go.
Not this time.
Mabel's fingers curled slightly, her thoughts tangling into knots before Dipper's hand settled over hers, grounding her.
"Mabel, I'll be fine. I promise."
She met his gaze, seeing the confidence he was trying to reassure her with. But beneath that, she could still sense the weight he carried, the unspoken fear behind his words. It was something he hadn't quite admitted, but she could feel it like a shadow.
She hesitated, then moved her hand away, forcing a weak smile. "Okay."
She wanted to believe him. She really did. But all those feelings bubbling up—the ones she hadn't quite figured out yet—were pulling her thoughts elsewhere. I should be more supportive, she thought. This isn't the time to fall apart. So she pushed them down, forced a breath, and shifted into her usual bubbly energy.
Dipper gave a small nod, then turned his attention back to the notes in front of him, voice steady. "Alright. Mabel, once Soos lets you know the meeting has ended, you'll go help him keep Pacifica's parents distracted. They'll probably have a chauffeur—see if you can do something about that, okay?"
Mabel straightened up, a renewed spark in her eyes. "Leave it to me! I'll captivate him with my womanly charms!" she said, giving a theatrical wink.
Pacifica groaned over the phone. "Great…"
Dipper shot her a pointed look but didn't acknowledge the sarcasm. "Once Pacifica lets us in, we'll head straight to her dad's study and cover the windows with blankets. That should keep the room dark, so it has a reason to stay in there."
He slid a piece of paper toward the center of the table. "Mabel, Soos—stick around town while we head for the manor. Let us know if anything goes wrong. Stall them as long as you can, but eventually, they're going to head back. When that happens, call Wendy, and she'll set up a distraction on the other side of the manor to buy us more time."
He exhaled, looking around the table, making eye contact with each of them. The confidence in his voice never wavered, but Mabel noticed the faintest clench of his jaw. Even he was carrying more than he let on.
"If everything goes according to plan, we can draw it into the study and pull off the blankets right as the sun rises."
Dipper's gaze swept across the room, determination in his eyes. "Any questions?"
Everyone nodded at each other, full of confidence. There was a shift in the air, a sense of readiness building up. The tension from earlier dissipated slightly as the group moved, gathering their things and shifting into motion.
Pacifica shuffled on the other end of the phone. "You owe me, Pines!"
Dipper winced at her nagging. "Trust me, I know."
He looked down at the table, adjusting a few papers, then glanced up. "Alright, everyone. Make sure you've got everything—flashlights especially."
Mabel paused, her gaze lingering on Dipper for a moment longer than she intended. She gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod—a silent promise of support, even if her heart wasn't entirely in it. Then she gave him a thumbs-up, her usual mischievous smile returning.
"Mystery Twins?"
Dipper gave a quick grin. "Mystery Twins."
He turned away, the weight of everything still hovering behind his eyes. He stuffed the pages with notes into his journal, picking it up. His eyes lingered on his scrawled handwriting. All their ideas, their plans, were put together into a very long plan. A large cog, one that relied on several smaller ones to even work. His lips formed into a thin line as he furrowed his brow, face deep into his journal.
It was risky, and he knew it. One wrong step, one miscalculation—and everything could collapse, taking his friends down with it. He couldn't let that happen. Not again. But this was all they could come up with, what he could come up with. And he knew they needed to do this now. Because if the figure could erase memories, what else could it do?
Deep down he knew it was only a matter of time before it made its next move. And the last thing he needed was their memories being wiped away clean. He sighed, he didn't truly know. He could only guess that these were the words this time. This had to work. Just so he could know that he was still capable, still the same Dipper who could manage the impossible of Gravity Falls.
But am I strong enough to keep them safe? he wondered, his breath catching in his throat. What if I fail them— He pushed the thought away, but it lingered, settling in his gut like a weight too heavy to shake off.
He closed his journal, the edges pressing into his palm like a reminder of everything at stake. His eyes drifted toward the window, but the view outside felt distant, unreal, like he wasn't fully present in his own life. His mind was a maze of questions, a knot tightening with every passing second.
Am I able to do this?
Will this even work?
Will this be enough to catch those shadows that hide in the walls?