Volume 1: Act 1 – Chapter 3 | Beyond the Sunset

Dipper sat outside on the front porch, soaking in the sunlight. It was almost the afternoon, and he would be leaving for the bus stop soon. That odd blend of eagerness and uncertainty settled in his mind, what did dad really want to say?

He knew dad used to play baseball in High School. From his stories, he sounded damn good at it. He even considered going pro after his time in college. It was never explained to him what exactly changed his father's mind, but something happened in college. He decided he wouldn't go pro and never really play baseball at that level again.

Maybe... maybe some feelings don't last forever, he thought, even if they once felt unbreakable.

The front door opened. He turned to see his father walk out, sleeves rolled up, a giddy smile on his face.

"You ready?"

"Yeah, I'll try and catch the ball this time."

His dad laughed light-heartedly. "Just remember what I taught you last time and you'll be alright, I promise." He tossed Dipper a glove.

Dipper examined the glove as he caught it with his hands. It was worn with use, seemingly built up by hours of play, preserving its character. He remembered this glove; he used it before, when he and dad would play catch more frequently when Dipper was 13. For some reason Dipper wanted to be more "involved", more physical. He liked just the simple monotony of throwing and catching the ball with his father. And he could get a bit of a workout from it, that is how it works, right?

Just the simple action of raising his arm, turning his right shoulder, releasing the ball, looking at his dad to wait for the throw back. It was so methodically, so simple, just like how the times were back then when he was younger. A simple life, long before High School, before all the problems of life began to set in. The naivety of his youth, before everything would hit him later like a tsunami.

He never would have expected to be here now, dealing with all these complicated feelings. What will happen to us? To mom or dad? Who is gonna go away? These thoughts ate away the edges of his hyperactive mind. He was scared, scared of the change, a change that was so fast and chaotic that it was like the winds blowing the autumn leaves from the trees. Leaves that he couldn't stop from blowing away into the sky. Memories he couldn't stop from running away from him.

"Dipper..." His father looked at him with a concerned expression.

Dipper was startled by his father's response while he fumbled to put on his glove. "Yeah! Sorry, I'm ready."

"Good, now that you're older, I can throw some missles!" He saw his father wind his left shoulder, preparing to throw. He grew concerned, readying himself with his glove up, looking at his father with a slightly uncertain but amused plea.

"Uhhh, I don't know about th-"

It was like a bullet was being shot from his dad's left hand. Breaking the sound barrier in Dippers mind. It whizzed in the air, like it was on a string, unwavering, determined with years of methodical and practiced experience. It was like his dad never left the mound.

"Oof." The ball contacted Dippers glove. He immediately closed his grip and stumbled back a bit. His hand stung with a sharp pain that subsided after a few seconds. That WAS a missile, no kidding!

"Hey! Good stuff! I didn't think you would catch that." His father looked at him proudly, like a protégé.

"Thanks for the encouragement", Dipper deadpanned. He wound up his right should and flicked his arm, releasing that ball at the right moment to get a decent toss in.

"Dipper." His father caught the ball with grace and ease, taking it from his glove and patting the inside with his hand.

"I know how you are, how you can be. I mean, me and you are very much alike, especially when I was younger." He threw the ball back. This time not as fast as before, but still with a solid intensity behind his swing.

Dipper caught the ball with his glove. He looked inside his glove and examined the ball. It looked littered with age and old memories, but there was something on the side, a signature. He turned it around and read the signature.

Karplemann, may this ball fuel your dreams with courage.

His father continued, "You always seemed like one to back out of a challenge, especially when you were younger." He took a stance, waiting for Dipper to return the ball.

Dipper returned the ball, ears open to what his father was saying. I mean, he's not necessarily wrong about that he thought.

"But that feeling I got from you changed after you came back from Gravity Falls. At the time you seemed a bit more confident, much more in shape, like a young man." He caught the ball with the same grace and precision as Dipper saw earlier, no unnecessary movements, no energy wasted.

He threw the ball back. "Whatever it was that built you up Dipper, it made me proud, ya know?"

Dipper almost dropped the ball after hearing his father's compliment. It warmed his heart to hear this from his father. Something coming from deep down within him, with sincerity and love. He smiled with his reply, "Thanks, Dad."

His father smiled sympathetically, "Yeah, but I'm not oblivious Dipper, what has been going on with you? I know it's usually hard to talk about feelings with others, but you can talk to me, ya know."

Dipper frowned. This is what he wanted? He appreciated his father reaching out to him, to check in and see if everything was okay. That gesture meant a lot to him at this moment. He knew everything wasn't okay, and it's not like he didn't want to tell him, he just felt so awkward, and still a little sweaty. What he was feeling was so complicated, so uncertain. He couldn't just put it all into words.

He stuttered. "I…I don't know I just feel so…"

"Awkward? Sweaty?" His father had seemingly finished his thoughts for him. This gave Dipper a chuckle.

"Yeah, a bit. But everything is changing. You and mom, its just feels so…" He trailed off, and didn't realize he threw the ball extremely hard towards his father's direction.

The ball contacted his father's glove with a satisfying slap. He smiled a bit before speaking.

"Different?'

This question echoed in the halls of Dippers mind. Even though his feelings seem so impossible to form into coherent sentences, this one word seemed to fit the bill. So simple, yet descriptive, completely encapsulating the emotions he had been feeling recently.

"Yeah…you're really good at that aren't you?"

"Your mother says I'm a good listener."

Dipper caught his father's ball again. He found himself gradually throwing it more intensely as time moved on. Each time, reveling in the thud of the ball whenever it hit his glove. It felt lighthearted and fun, just a simple task, wasting away time with a special person in his life.

"Look, I can't guarantee anything as of now, and I can understand that everything just feels so scary to you right now."

He caught the ball, but Dipper didn't expect him to lower his arm and look into the sky.

"Whatever does happen, it won't change how I feel about you or Mabel, how I feel about this family, Dipper."

It was such a distant yet stoic expression. The way the hues of the sky reflected his face. Dipper was hyper-aware of how this was such a sentimental moment. It tugged at him; from every direction he could think of. His father looked back at Dipper, throwing the ball with an underhanded toss towards him.

"But there is something I want to tell you. Something that helped me when I was around your age. I know you already noticed the signature on that ball."

Dipper nodded, so he did notice. He caught the ball this time with his opposite, bare hand.

"Most usually expect its some obscure or retired MLB player I got to sign my ball after a game." He looked towards the ball in Dippers grasp fondly.

"But it is much more precious to me than something like that could ever be. That ball is the one I used to practice with everyday back in high school, signed by my coach. That old man was like a second father to me. Such a strong and stoic figure in my life during that time."

Dipper's father walked towards him, catching Dippers attention as he looked up from the ball which settled in his hand gently. He squatted down in front of him.

"Theres so much he taught me when I was on the team, but there is one thing that stuck with me. And now I live by it every day. I think you deserve to hear about it, Dipper." He turned around and offered Dipper a seat on his shoulders.

Dipper looked at his father's shoulders, slightly flabbergasted and embarrassed, "Dad, come on I'm fifteen!"

His father laughed, "I know but you're never too old for some good ol' father and son time, right?"

Dipper couldn't really argue with that. His father was reaching out for a reason. Offering something Dipper couldn't figure out on his own, offering him something he didn't know he needed. He obliged and got on his father's shoulders.

Gaining his footing, he stood up and Dippers eyes widened. His view was suddenly so wide, he could see the roofs of the houses throughout most of the neighborhood, like he was levitating over the ground, exploring a new dimension, a new horizon. This isn't what made him stare though, it was the sky.

The sky, it was breath taking. The sun had risen earlier, making all the oranges and yellows fade away, seemingly into one large blue landscape. This landscape, filled with such a soft and warm hue, was full of clouds, so many clouds. It was a blissful image. So peaceful, yet so full of life and energy, it made Dipper want to go running and explore something new. Go and explore new emotions, explore new feelings. From here, everything felt smaller, manageable even, like he could take on anything—if only he found the right reason.

"In college, I was deadset on going pro… I thought it was my reason, my calling …but life doesn't always keep things that simple. After a couple of semesters, I realized how hard that dream was. It was so unforgiving and tiring. I started to realize that I couldn't keep up with the talent needed to be a professional athlete. There were so many people blessed with the gifts they needed to thrive in that game, I just wasn't one of them. At the end of the day, I'm just a human being like everyone else. Someone on a small, pale blue dot out in the middle of nowhere.

Despite this, I still love baseball, and it's one of my reasons why. One of the reasons why I enjoy life, a reason why I like being here, doing things that are fun. My coach always taught me to love what you do, to find your reason, to find your sunset. It's something so simple, yet critical to myself."

He motioned his head towards the horizon that laid beyond the rows of houses, causing Dipper to stare out into that blue sea. It was a sea of the unknown, an adventure of uncertainty beyond that landscape.

"So, every day, when the sun goes down, I look at what I did for the day and ask myself, did I earn the sunset? Some days I don't, and I motivate myself to do it again, but most days I do, and that's my sense of purpose. Now, I have what makes me happy. That right there…...makes the ride super fun."

He turned his head up to look at Dipper. Dipper's face was in a mix of disbelief and focus, so intent on listening to the words coming out on his father's mouth, yet in a thousand-yard stare looking at the sky, unwavering.

"I want you to find your sunset, Mason."

Dipper was acutely aware that this moment would be one he would never forget for the rest of his life, so intent on savoring the taste of it. Dipper relished all of it, the feeling, that emotional response to the sentimental words his father had laid bare, all if it. He didn't fully understand all of what was said—but he knew this was the kind of truth he'd carry with him. Someday, maybe, he'll make sense of it. But for now, he just let himself …

feel.

Dipper sat in a brief, quiet moment to consider this idea, this tangible thing his father offered him. He looked out over the neighborhood from his perch, feeling that pull toward Gravity Falls as a place where he might find that "sunset," but without yet understanding why, or how to even do it.

His father carefully let him down back on the ground with a soft and warm smile. Before Dipper could say something back, his father opened his mouth once more, kneeling to Dipper, holding his shoulders, eyes determined.

"Even if it feels scary, don't stop searching. That's the only way to know what's out there."

Dipper simply nodded and smiled before hugging his father. He expected this to feel weird, but it felt so right, so complete, like a reinforced shelter surrounding him. He felt his father ruffle his hair and chuckled in response to this action.

"And don't forget to look out for your sister, alright? She's got her own sunset to find, too."

"Of course!"

He looked back up at the sky, the sun floating above proudly in the distance showering him in a warm, hazy light. It felt like the end of something, but maybe it was the start of something else, too

Dipper headed back inside, taking the stairs two at a time to his room. He wanted to get everything packed and ready before noon. He cracked open his door and stepped inside, staring at the suitcase sprawled open on his bed with a new sense of purpose. His clothes were stuffed inside, but there were a few last things he wanted to make sure he brought along.

He walked over to his desk. His computer's screen saver flickered with a scene from Ghost Harassers, his favorite show. This was his spot—when he wasn't doing schoolwork, he was here, combing through sites for any whisper of anomalies. That, or playing Bloodcraft: Overdeath. They'd released a sequel earlier this year, but it just wasn't the same (too many balancing issues). He wanted to take his computer with him to Gravity Falls, but there was no room. Definitely no internet either.

Beside his mouse was the journal Mabel had given him. It was a deep navy blue, marked with a simple pine tree symbol on the cover. He wasn't entirely sure how she'd gotten it (she said it had something to do with the multiverse, probably?), but he appreciated the sentiment. As he picked it up, he examined its bright cover. It felt like a token of that summer—a glimpse into Mabel's heart, her own memories and regrets from that time. When he thumbed the worn fabric, memories flickered back—the laughter, the risks, and her own hopes and regrets woven into its pages.

He peeled open the cover and looked inside. The pages stared back at him, blank and white. Barren. It made him feel so… so

useless.

He'd filled the first ten pages with notes from the summer. Some things he remembered from Ford's journals, theories on weirdness magnetism, scattered notes on whatever "anomalies" were in the area.

But he wanted more than notes. He wanted to be down there in Ford's lab, shoulder to shoulder with him, helping with his research, uncovering new mysteries every day. He wanted to feel that thrill Ford talked about, that spark of discovery.

He wanted to be him.

He gently tossed his journal into his suitcase. There were a few more things he needed to check. One was glaring at him the moment he walked into the room. It felt like it had its own pressure as he walked around, staring at him with anticipation. He spun around and made eye contact with Wendy's trucker hat. This, this was that parting gift he received so long ago. From one of the most important people he met in Gravity Falls. Even though for a long time, he wanted more than what that hat swap meant, he wanted more than the friendship that was offered. He knew now that this was so far out of his reach that it was almost laughable that he even entertained the idea in the first place. So naïve, so sweaty, so desperate. He could feel his cheeks grow hot from the secondhand embarrassment he was getting, just thinking about how he used to pawn over her. He grabbed the hat and put it on his head. It still fit pretty well, albeit a tiny bit tight, but it would work.

As he wore the hat, he could almost hear her voice, feel that casual laugh she gave him whenever he got nervous. He wasn't the kid pining for something unreachable anymore, but her friend. And that felt... right.

He scoured his room, searching for anything else that he needed. He looked in the drawer of his desk and found something that filled him full of memories, full of nostalgia and full of adventure. Back when he was 12, running through those dark woods or bunkers in search of something incredible, his heart pounding as they unraveled Ford's secrets. It was his black light.

The black light had illuminated more than ink. It had shown him the power of curiosity—and maybe a bit of caution. He could almost feel the pulse of those summer nights, the thrill of discovering the impossible. He wanted that feeling back, that ache. He grabbed it and tossed it behind him hoping it would land in his suitcase.

He still felt bare in a way, vulnerable, like he was missing a crucial tool that was so versatile that not having it could be devastating. As he searched around his room, a flash of light caught his eye, glinting from the shelf above his bed. He walked up to the shelf, which he now could stand on his toes to see the top one. Man, I used to be short, he thought with a smirk.

He grabbed the golden object, it beckoned him over, to grasp it, to take it into his own hands and feel its magnitude. It was the president's key, cool and weighty in his hand. So much power in such a small object, able to open any door. He stared at it, thinking, Seriously, that's kinda overpowered. He remembered the day he got it, after uncovering such big mystery, a massive deception underneath the town about the Northwest's. Such liars, such phonies. So stuck up, bathing in their mansion, making him do their dirty work to clear ghosts. Then, a vivid image of blonde sparked in his mind, one who always seemed just out of his reach.

I wonder how she is doing?

He thought back to the key and its memories, the true birth of the Mystery Twins. It ached inside of him, he wanted, needed, that high of adventure and accomplishment so bad, to feel useful, to feel like he was fulfilling a purpose. He missed it so much. He tightened his grip around it. As he did so, a new wave of thoughts filled his head.

Would there be doors left to open, hidden secrets yet to be uncovered?

The kind he hadn't even dreamed of. It was that ache for purpose, for a cause to dive into. He placed it in his suitcase with a sense of resolve.

He looked at his suitcase, almost overflowing with pieces of him. So many parts of his past—things he took for granted, for comfort, things that made him. Each item was like a cog with a place, a puzzle piece with a unique shape, a picture with a memory. They shaped him, carried fragments of who he once was and who he is now. Drive, adventure, that childlike wonder... they were all there, packed among those faded memories that smelled like pine and felt like warm summer days. He took off his hat and tossed it inside, overwhelmed with these feelings and soaked in the sight

The journal, the key, the trucker hat—they lay atop his favorite black hoodie. The one he always wore to feel grounded, hidden, like he could fade into the background and feel safe. The thing that shielded him from the world. He ran his fingers over the hoodie's fabric, suddenly uncertain.

What will become of me? The thought jolted him.

What will become of him? What will he become tomorrow? What will he become in a month? In a year? These circled around his head like a tornado of anxiety, pounding at his skull. The future loomed hazy and tangled, and he wasn't sure if the Dipper who packed these things would recognize the one who opened them someday. That ache for purpose, the gnawing need for discovery—they were both thrilling and frightening, stirring questions he wasn't sure he could answer.

What will become of me?

He closed his suitcase with a zip. It echoed in his room, like the final chord of a second suite. He didn't know what was going to happen, what he would experience, what Gravity Falls would be like now. Whatever mysteries lay ahead, he'd have to be ready to face them. Even if the road meant new dangers. Even if the answers were different than he'd dreamed.

Mabel burst through the door, still hugging Waddles tightly to her chest, a contagious grin lighting her face. "Perfect timing! Just packed the last of my most important stuff!" She quickly shoved a few plushies into her oversized bag, waving her free arm in excitement.

"You're taking your plushies again? You've got to be kidding me!" Dipper sighed. "I thought we agreed to—"

"Dipper!" Mabel interrupted, her eyes shining with determination. "Plushies are a necessity. They'll keep me grounded! What if things change? What if it's not the same? Oh my gosh, what if Grenda and Candy don't recognize me? I can't be prepared for an adventure without my squad!"

"First, you know they won't protect you from anything dangerous, second, its practically impossible to not recognize you, Mabel." He raised an eyebrow, but deep down, he knew how much this meant to her.

"Maybe not, but they keep me company!" she insisted, her tone mockingly dramatic, just like her favorite melodrama. "Besides, who else am I supposed to snuggle with at night? Or tell my secrets too? C'mon, you know me!"

Dipper rolled his eyes, trying not to smile. "Fine, take your plushies. Just try not to take up too much space."

"Never!" she laughed, and with a final bounce, she dashed downstairs, Waddles in her arms. Dipper chuckled and followed her down, feeling a renewed sense of purpose for the adventure that lies ahead.