#Dipper definitely thinks of him as 'Dad' somewhere deep inside his mind

[codylabs]

Chapter 21: Stay Strong

Links: P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

The shapeshifter stopped off at Tambry’s house just long enough to drop her off, then hid Robbie’s van in the woods and continued through town on foot, wearing a disguise that would draw no attention: that of some random out-of-towner.

He was somewhat at a loss of where to start his search for answers, so he stopped by the GF Gossiper to pick up a copy of the local paper. NEW SPECIES OF FUNGUS DISCOVERED IN LOCAL REPORTER’S ARMPIT! The headline read. He turned to the next page. RAIN EXPECTED DURING BAKE SALE! LIKELY WATER! He flipped a few pages ahead to the sports section. DEATHBALL TRIBUTES CHOSEN! Remember kids, next year it could be you!

Geez. The shapeshifter wondered. What kind of sad, pathetic sack of human waste would actually consider this news?

But then, one headline caught his eye. INVESTIGATION CONTINUES INTO MYSTERIOUS KILLER ROBOT! If you are the evil mad scientist responsible, please turn yourself in!

Ah yes…

That whole thing… The Shifter read through the article. Apparently, nobody really seemed to know where this ‘killer robot’ came from, what happened, or why. The inept police force was getting less than nowhere with their “investigation”, and local coot/genius/former mad scientist Fiddleford McGucket was indisposed to answer questions, even though he was the one handling the machine’s autopsy, over at the former NorthWest manor.

With nothing more pressing to do, the Shifter decided he may as well pay McGucket a visit. After all, the old human was one of those who’d trapped him in that bunker all those years ago. A little payback had been a long time coming, and really, who would miss one eccentric old man? Besides, he might know something about the Shifter’s origins.

He asked a passerby on the street if she could point him toward the manor, and followed her directions down the road and up a hill.

Twenty minutes later, he found himself disguised as an ordinary deer, standing just outside the property. The front entrance was currently being blocked by a gigantic human in a gigantic pickup truck, whose combined bulk didn’t look to be moving it anytime soon. The deer glanced about, annoyed and impatient. Climbing over the wall would draw too much attention… Is there a way around the back? Just as he turned to search, movement by the gate caught his attention: a human girl had just exited the mansion.

But not just any girl.

THE girl.

Wendy. Wendy Corduroy. One of the few humans who actually did know something about the robotic life, and one of the most likely to know anything at all about alien life. Coincidentally, also one of the humans which had made an enemy of him.

He stared, and smelled, and listened.

The girl was looking tired and weak; overly pale, with rings under her eyes, tangled, unkept hair, and bringing a faint smell of unwashed sickness in her wake. Her walk was comparatively stooped and sluggish as she loped down the steps and opened the passenger-side door of the large man’s truck. The Shapeshifter wondered at his luck at finding her so helpless. In this state, she would be all but helpless before him, and all he had to do was wait until she was alone…

She closed the truck’s door behind her, and began to talk with the man inside. He couldn’t hear what they were saying…

“Wait feller!” A cackling southern accent entered the scene, and the Shifter saw Fiddleford scamper out of the building, a few tools in his hands.

Wendy rolled down the window to address him. “S’up?” The shifter enlarged and focused his ears to make out the distant conversation.

“Eh… Wull, uh…” McGucket scratched his scalp. “This little mission a yers… Who’s all goin’ with ya?”

“I don’t know…” Wendy shrugged. “You, me, Stan 1, Stan 2… And how ‘bout you, dad? You in?”

The gigantic man spoke up, his voice booming as if it had no lower volume. “YEAH.”

“Okay, yeah, I think that’s all…” Wendy nodded. “I… don’t really wanna drag Soos or Mabel into this after what happened…”

“Uh-huh…” McGucket glanced down the road. “Uh… Yeh ain’t goin’ now, is ya?”

Wendy shrugged again. “Well… Yeah, close to now. Like, an hour? What do you have to do to prepare?”

“Oh, okay, uh… Just need ta charge up me robo-legs… And get the plasma beam ready for a field test… And reviewify some of my notes…”

“ROBO LEGS?” The large man frowned.

“Plasma beam…?” Wendy asked.

“Eh, ye’ll see…” McGucket waved a hand dismissively. “Gimme two hours?”

“Okay… I think the Stans are at the Mystery Shack now, so meet us there then.”

“Right gab-smack tootin!” McGucket turned to head back indoors.

“WAIT.” Dan stopped him. “SO… SO WILL THIS SUPERWEAPON THING OF YERS DESTROY ALL THE ROBOTS? THAT HOW IT WORKS?”

Wendy opened her mouth to answer ‘yes’, but then closed it again. She looked at McGucket. The old man shuffled uncomfortably. “Wull, I… Most of ‘em, I’ll warrant… Tidal forces’ll rip the larger things apart, and a lot of the smaller things’ll be crushed in the mix… But there’s a swell chance a few critters might find a safe place, underground or in a shell…”

“Ugh.” Wendy glanced back at her dad. “Job for another day then.”

Dan considered this for a moment. “WANT ME TA GET A POSSE TOGETHER? MY CREW, SOME BIKERS, THE GLEEFUL GANG? THEY’VE GOT A SOFT SPOT FOR THINGS LIKE THIS.”

“A posse…? To do what?”

“TA HEAD INTA THE FOREST. Y’KNOW, WHILE THE REST OF YOU ARE DOWN IN THE SHIP, WE COULD BE CLEANIN’ UP STRAGGLERS”

She thought about it, then nodded. “Sure, uh… Just remember to stay… Stay… Hey, how far from the blast should they stay?”

“Eh… Lesse here…” McGucket twiddled his fingers like the beads of an abacus. “If we tune the ol’ banjo right, it’ll only completely overpower the Earth’s natural gravity within a mile radius. I’ll reckon much further than 2 miles, ya won’t feel nothin’ but a hiccup… So… Keep yerself 3 miles out ‘till it’s done firing, and you’ll be safe as corn puddin’.”

“Okay…” Wendy dug around in her pockets and produced a map. The shifter saw her draw a circle on it, and then hand it to her dad. “Just at least outside of here until we shut down the field. We’ll give you a call when it’s safe…”

“RIGHT… WHAT KINDA WEAPONS SHOULD WE BRING…?”

“Umm… Magnet guns would be great, but we only have, like, 3 of them…”

“I got the parts ta hootinany up 4 more’a them jiggers.” McGucket suggested. “Want me ta bring ‘em?”

“…Yeah.”

“AND IF THEY DON’T WORK?” Dan asked.

“Uh, if they don’t…” Wendy scratched her head. “If they don’t, go in with axes, shotguns, or… I don’t know, get creative. If it’s one of the lions… We killed a small pack of them earlier, so that may have been all of ‘em. I don’t know. But if you run into one, they’ve got a weak point in their armor. In the back of their neck beneath their antennae. Once you stun them, drive a steak or something far enough in there, and it’ll sever their spine… Also, if anybody has logging chaps, those work pretty well against saws… That’s… Oh geez, that’s how Dipper killed the last one… Uh…” She turned to her dad. “Am I forgetting anything?”

“THINK WE’RE GOOD. I’LL DROP YOU OFF AT THE SHACK THING, AND GO GATHER PEOPLE.”

“Okay… Oh yeah, it’s also kind of a secret that aliens exist.” Wendy reminded her father. “You kinda just found out, but this should stay between as few as possible.”

“I’LL TELL EM IT’S ALL MAD SCIENCE.”

“Great…”

The truck drove off down the road, and McGucket returned indoors.

The deer that had been watching the exchange tilted its head. ‘Mission.’ ‘Superweapon.’ ‘Ship.’ ‘Aliens.’ What mission? What superweapon? What ship? WHAT ALIENS? These tidbits all sounded very interesting; much more interesting than revenge. Perhaps for now, his part was but to wait and watch… After all, revenge was easy; he would always have a chance for something small like that. But to steal their knowledge and their secrets would be so much more important…

He morphed into a much faster animal, and was able to keep up with their truck with relative ease.

Fifteen minutes later, Dan left her at the Mystery Shack, and turned his truck back toward town.

Wendy glanced over her shoulder at the machine in her backpack: The computer system they could use to reactivate the UFO’s engines and destroy the Forest of Daggers. Today’s the day… Ugh, today’s the day… We’re closer than ever to finishing the mission.

But then she thought back to the robot lying dissected in McGucket’s lab, and to the answers its autopsy hadn’t answered… All the possibilities and trains of thought she’d chased to dead ends over the past few days, all the secrets and dark knowledge hidden in her mind. It seems she’d tried everything… We’re still further than ever from saving him.

She looked around at the trees, standing tall and indifferent around her. Somewhere deep in these woods, hidden in the dark, weird shadows beneath the trees, was there an answer? Was there a way to save him? This was Gravity Falls, after all; a solution to undo death wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they’d found out here. No… Definitely not the weirdest.

She would find something.

Or something would find her.

She felt like she was being watched.

But feeling like you’re being watched was nothing new around these parts, so she continued up the drive toward the Shack without giving it another thought.

She was almost there when the door flew open, and Stan stumbled out, across the porch, and off through the grass in the direction of the forest. He had a large electric jackhammer tucked under one arm, and a can of diesel under the other.

Wendy waved an arm and called for his attention. “Hey Stan! Need to talk about stuff; you got a minute? Where’s Stan 2?”

“Wendy…?” He turned around and saw her. “What…? Shouldn’t you still be in bed? Radiation poisoning and all that…?”

She frowned, utterly tired of people pointing this out. “Oh yeah, I probably should.” She went on the defensive. “Just like my dad should probably be at work, Stan 2 should be in a hospital from what I hear, and you should probably be in jail if this world were fair. But here we are, and there’s more important stuff than us, so do you have a minute or don’t you?”

Stan sighed, considered it for a second, then shrugged.

“So you mean business.” He remarked.

She nodded. “We’re gonna kill the robots today. Could use your and Stan 2’s help. You in?”

“Uh… Ford’s pretty sick…”

“Okay, well—”

“Hey, uh… Hold on.” He interrupted her and pressed the gas can into her arms. “Tell me on the way. I found something you’ll want to see.” And he led the way off into the trees.

Wendy’s curiosity won out over her impatience, (if barely) and she followed.

On the way, she told him the whole plan, and he listened with weary ears. From the woods not 10 meters behind them, the shapeshifter walked on silent feet, listening with ears that were very interested indeed.

Wendy finished telling the plan for what must have been the third time today, and Stan nodded slowly. “Probably for the best… Moving out now?”

“Soon as McGucket gets here with tools.”

“Hmm.”

Five minutes of silent walking later, Stan’s pace slowed to a stop near the center of a grove of birch trees. His eyes peered around the environment, searching for wherever he’d last seen their item of interest. Finally he found it. “Well, it’s still here… Uh… Good.” He sighed.

Wendy turned and saw it too. She recognized the shape instantly of course, but spent the first couple seconds wondering who would build such a thing, and why. But then the truth slowly dawned on her: that no man had made it. That somehow, it was the real deal. Before she even gave the command, her right hand had already drawn and readied her axe, and her eyes were sweeping the surrounding trees, looking for fires, smoke, monsters, eye-bats, or whatever madness this creature’s continued existence might spawn.

Seeing nothing but sunshine and grey/green trees, her eyes returned to the statue. “Is that really Bill…?” She asked.

“Yeah…” Stan cut her off, as if saying his name was somehow taboo. “It’s him.”

“How—”

“Remember when he left his body to enter my mind?”

“…Yeah…?” (She was a tapestry at the time, but she always left that part out when recounting the tale.)

“Yeah… Well… I think… I think this is that… This is what he left behind. Same size. Same pose… I don’t know what the whole story is, but… It’s him.” Stan hesitantly lifted a leg, and kicked the statue’s upraised arm.

No reaction.

“’Kay then…” Stan took out the jackhammer, and locked a large chipping bit into the end. “Help me with this.”

“Wait…” Wendy held up a hand. “Wait, umm…”

“’Wait’?!?” Stan spun on her. “Whaddaya mean ‘wait’?!? What, you wanna spare whatever’s left of him? give him a chance? Wanna shake a hand? Try and buy your little ‘boyfriend’ back?!? That it? HUH?”

“WHAT?!?” Wendy snapped. “NO! DIPPER WOULD RATHER HAVE DIED! I… I mean… I mean he would rather stay dead than… Than have us do that… I mean… What I meant was… Never mind. Never mind. Let’s do this.”

Wendy turned her axe around, gripped it with both hands, and used the flat part on the back like a hammer to strike the statues’ hat.

Stan hefted the jackhammer level with the statue’s eye, pressed it in, and pulled the trigger.

The sound of its metallic tapping seemed to fill the forest, echoing between and through the trees as if the entire forest could hear. The eye chipped, then chipped more, then cracked in two, then the bit was through the eye and deeper into the statue. Wendy’s axe finally smashed through the hat, and the item fell to the ground.

Thus did the dreaded thing slowly, slowly come apart.

Stan didn’t expect it to be hollow.

Wendy didn’t expect its insides to reek like a rotting animal.

No matter. Once they were through breaking apart the ‘shell’, Stan reached for the gas can, and poured diesel over the whole thing. While he did, Wendy used her axe to chop down a small tree, and cut off a few smaller limbs. She stacked the wood in a flammable way over the rubble, and Stan tossed a lighter.

The pile ignited instantly, and the wood kept it burning. In the heat, the last large chunks of stone cracked and chipped, until there didn’t remain much to see at all. The stink faded, and the smoke turned from black to grey, as if some small burden had been lifted from the natural world.

Wendy leaned back against a tree and crossed her arms. Stan sunk the tip of the jackhammer into the ground, and leaned against it like a walking stick. Both their eyes stayed fixed on the statue’s remains, while their hearts nursed hatred. The flames quietly flickered and hissed as the minutes stretched on, the only sound in the forest.

“How’d you find it?” Wendy finally asked.

“Just…” Stan shrugged. “Just… Goin’ for a walk… Found it.” His mind was far away, and didn’t bother to make his mouth lie well.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere…” Wendy frowned.

He opened his mouth, and closed it again.

Stan’s previous objection came back to Wendy’s mind: why would he think she wanted to shake its hand…? Where would that terrible idea have come from? “…Was it Mabel?” Wendy theorized, hoping she was wrong. “…Did she find it? …Did she shake his hand?”

Stan rubbed his hands through his eyes, and sighed. “If… Ugh, oh geez… Well, if she’d been about to… I woulda promised not to tell.”

So it really IS that bad. Wendy thought. This really IS our darkest hour. “Oh… Okay…” She said. “Right. I didn’t hear nothin’ from you…”

“No ya didn’t.”

They watched the fire for a minute more.

Suddenly Wendy let out a little yell, stepped up, and threw her axe at a nearby tree. The blade sank into the bark almost halfway. “Everything’s just falling apart!” She yelled at nobody in particular. “Everything! We… We all want him back so bad, but we don’t know how, and now that he’s gone… It’s like we’re not good people anymore! We’re not heroes! Does that make any sense? Like… Like remember Weirdmageddon? We all survived, but none of us did anything… It was only when Dipper came along… He found me, sitting on my butt, and he brought me along… And then we found Mabel, sleeping in a dream, and brought her along… And then we found you, hiding in the shack, and brought you along… And then we found Stan 2, helpless and trapped, and we brought him along… Dipper was the one that saved us all, because he was the only one who knew how to stand up and be a hero… Without him… It… It all started and ended with him…”

Stan scratched his neck.

“And now… Now it’s looking bleaker and bleaker... No way to beat death… Now all we’re doing is trying to avenge him… Now we’re getting desperate… It’s all. Falling. Apart…”

Wendy returned her axe to her belt and fell silent. She had more words to say, but didn’t want to let them out.

Stan thought about it all for a while.

“Who was he to you?” Stan finally asked.

Wendy glanced at him, then back to the flames. She shrugged. “A friend.” Then answered, then amended it. “My best friend.”

“More than a friend?” Stan asked.

She nodded. “More than a friend.” She admitted.

He thought about this too. A tiny, bittersweet smile tickled the corner of his mouth, as he realized he was hearing the things that Dipper would once have longed to hear. “…A lover?” He asked.

“No… Yeah…” Wendy shrugged. “I mean yeah… No.” She glanced at Stan, who’d had many shallow, fleeting lovers over the years. “No…” She said. No, not the way it means to you. “What’s more than a lover?”

“…A brother?”

“What’s more than a brother?”

“Nothing’s more than a brother.”

“…Then he was my brother.”

Stan pursed his lips, and decided to change the subject. “…You know…” He said. “When I lost my brother… When I let him fall through the portal, when it seemed like he was gone forever… That was somethin’ else. That was when I remembered how much I loved him. How much I needed him. How much I missed him… And also when I realized how much I could do on my own, even without him; the sacrifices I was able to make, the things I was able to learn, and do, and say… I learned the lengths I could go to save him. There were 30 years in there… 30 years of hopelessness. 30 years staring at a broken machine, all alone, lying and stealing and putting on smiles and pouring over confusing old books. 30 years when all evidence and logical sense in the world told me he was gone forever, except I kept on trying… To believe like I did? To keep on hoping? To try and be his hero? That was a work of faith on its own…”

Wendy nodded, feeling these same things herself. “Why… Why did you keep that faith?”

“Well… I figured he couldn’t be gone forever. And I knew… I knew I still had a debt to pay to him. I knew I’d wounded him, that I’d let him down… I knew that that was my… Redemption…”

Wendy considered this for a minute in silence. Her eyes drifted to the ground, and it held their attention while she thought.

“Why… Why do I keep my faith…?” She asked out loud, even though nobody but her knew the answer.

Stan looked at her with a frown. He knew as well as anyone that her faith was probably empty; there was no point in hoping. Death was final. But she couldn’t hear that; it would be too harsh. So instead he repeated her question back at her. “Why?”

“Why…” She echoed again. “Well…It’s… It’s funny… Well… No… No, it’s not funny… But… But… Ooookay.” She finally decided that she had to tell somebody. “There was one secret I kept from Dipper.” She blurted. “We promised not to keep secrets from each other… But I told him there was one I had to keep, and he was okay with that, so I kept it.”

“Oh really.” Stan folded his arms.

“I… I guess there’s no point keeping it a secret anymore, because now it isn’t even true… Is it? I don’t know… But… But can I tell you? Just don’t tell anyone; especially not him, if we ever do bring him back… I just need to tell somebody to make sure I’m not going CRAZY… Could you please keep this a secret?”

Stan nodded. “Sure.”

Wendy hesitated one more time to gather her wits, then said:

“Time travel is a thing.”

Stan wasn’t necessarily surprised. “Ford mentioned that at one point.” He admitted. “He ran into it here and there in his… Dimension-hoppin' days. Way I hear it, there's a few 'advanced civilizations' out there who've dabbled…”

“Yeah, well, news flash: mankind is one of them.” Wendy told him. “And more than dabbled; a couple hundred thousand years in the future, it'll be borderline commonplace. Policed and regulated fiercely though, which I guess is why we don't see more of them around these times…”

“Great.” Stan shrugged. “So time travel is a thing, but not anywhere close to yet. What does that have to do with—”

“I MET MYSELF.” Wendy told him.

Stan frowned.

“It was last Fall.” She explained. “After Dipper, Mabel, you and Stan 2 left… I was sitting in my room not doing my homework… And she showed up. She was maybe 25… 30? I don’t know… But she was a warrior of some kind apparently, had a suit of armor, some weapons, a funny cyborg eye doohickey, a time machine… But… But she was ME, there was no mistaking it… She was chill, we were both like ‘hey, how’s it going?’ or whatever; shared a soda… And then she gave me some advice on how to live my life; to apply myself in school, to love my family, defend the town, stop being lazy, never lose my integrity, never roll over for all the boyfriends I’d one day have… Basically she remembered the thoughts and the mistakes that I would one day make… And told me the things she remembered I’d need… And she’s the reason I’m so deep into these adventures and mysteries and crap nowadays, she’s the reason I’ve been doing better in school. Because that’s the path to the life I know will one day make me happy and fulfilled… The… The day she showed up was one of the biggest days of my life…”

“Umm…” Stan scratched his head. “Not gonna lie, that’s pretty weird…”

“But you believe me? It’s not impossible?”

“Well… No, I mean… There’s been weirder things around. But… But this super-secret-time-warrior-future chick; did she tell you that Dipper was gonna die? Or tell ya how to save him…? Or—”

“NO.” Wendy ran her hands through her hair. “No, that’s the weird part. SHE DIDN’T. In fact, you know what she did say? You know why I hold on to faith right now? You know why I never told anybody about this ever? You know why this was the only secret I had to keep from Dipper? You know why I’ve been confused and divided and conflicted and determined for 7 months now?”

“…Why?”

“Because.” She said. “Dipper’s not really ‘like a brother’ to me. And he’s not just my best friend either… Someday… Someday Dipper was gonna be my husband…”

About 50 feet back in the trees, something that looked just like an ordinary mountain lion had been crouching for the past half-hour, listening. Now its paws grew fingers, reached through a fold in its skin, and removed Robbie’s phone. He shook the slime off it as quietly as he could, and opened a web browser. He searched ‘time travel’, then ‘husband’, and read briefly through the articles that popped up.

Putting the two sets of knowledge together painted a very strange picture, and he considered the implications with confusion and interest.

Then he realized the humans were talking again.

“Shut up.” Wendy was saying.

“I didn’t say anything.” Stan put his hands up.

“Yeah, but you’re thinking it. You’re smiling.”

“I--! Hmm… Okay…” The old man scratched the grizzle on his chin to hide the smile he knew shouldn’t be there. “What do I say here?”

“What do you say? What do I say? This isn’t funny, it’s weird! I’m not crazy, am I? Am I crazy? Why would I make this up? And why wouldn’t it be true anymore? What happened?”

“I… Okay…”  The old man gave it all as much thought as he could muster. “Okay… No, you’re not crazy. I believe you… And no, I don’t know anything else. I really don’t know how time travel works.” He admitted. “I don’t know if we changed the future somehow, or if this is all a dream, or if that was all a dream, or if that even was you from the future, but…” He shrugged. “Is there a way to bring him back? For real and good? That’s the real question, isn’t it? A way that doesn’t involve flirting with ancient evil…? Something that doesn’t just… Just make the pain longer and worse…? Heck if I know. But if he really means as much to you as you said… If you really believe you can do this thing, and really will do anything for him… Then… Then if there’s a way, I’ve a hunch you’re gonna find it. And… God help whatever stands in your way.”

She made a noise with her nose, about halfway between a laugh and a scoff.

“Seems to me.” Stan put a hand on her shoulder. “This is the part of the story where the world finds out who Wendy really is… And I think we’re all looking forward to it.”

She took a deep breath, and tried to smile. “Thanks…”

He gave her a pat, and turned away. “’Kay, hey, let’s head on back then. McGucket will be here before too long, right? We’ve still got some bots to flatten today, and we can’t keep your dad and his posse waiting.”

“Yeah, yeah… Uh… I’ll be with you in a minute…” She nodded.

Stan turned and started back toward the Shack, leaving Wendy staring at the last dying embers of Bill’s pyre. Once he was out of sight, she walked over to a nearby tree, pulled out a knife, and began carving shapes into the trunk. What were those, numbers? She seemed to have given the task all her attention.

Here we are, little girl. The shapeshifter thought. Alone in the middle of the forest. You have your back turned, and your brain preoccupied… I could kill you right now, it would be so easy.

Forget killing, I could HURT you. Disturb you. Torture you. Take anything I wanted from your body and brain, however I wanted.

I could.

I should.

But he didn’t.

Instead he watched silently for a few seconds as she finished carving whatever those shapes were. Then she flipped her knife closed, and stood back, allowing the shifter to get a good look at them. Was that a time and date? Suddenly Wendy turned her face upwards. “IF I EVER BECOME A TIME-TRAVELER!” She announced to the skies, and pointed at the numbers. “I PROMISE I’LL COME BACK FROM THE FUTURE TO RIGHT NOW, 11:03 AM, JUNE 12, 2013.”

He looked at her for a few seconds, startled.

Then Wendy looked left. The shifter looked left too. There was nobody there.

Then they both looked right. There was nobody there.

Behind, in front, up, down…

They didn’t see anyone or anything. They waited a minute or so…

But nobody came.

A single silent tear glinted in the light as it rolled down Wendy’s cheek.

Well. The shifter thought. I suppose that answers that question. Yes, something changed, indeed. Your plans, your dreams, your precious little friend… Everything concrete in your life really IS dead for good, isn’t it? And now… It seems without your partner, without your hero… You have nobody left to lean on. You’re so weak, I could kill you now…

But he didn’t.

Wendy turned and started back into the trees toward the Shack. The shifter decided he had other business too, and started back toward Robbie’s van.

Once they were both out of sight, the dark figure crouching high in the branches disappeared in a flash of blue light.

Ow, that hurt.

Dipper didn’t wake up, because he was already awake.

He didn’t open his eyes, because they were already open.

He didn’t stand up, because he was already standing.

It’s strange; he hadn’t feel any sort of lapse or discontinuity at all, yet he’d been lying down, hadn’t he? Something had been wrong with his body, and the pain had been incredible, and he’d been lying down. But now, an unmeasurably long instant later, he was just standing…

Hey I don’t hurt anymore. He realized.

But… Wait… Wait, what happened? Why aren’t I itchy? And why can’t I remember?

He tried to move, but he didn’t move… He tried to close his eyes, but couldn’t… He tried to speak but… Why can’t I feel my tongue?

It’s true, his own body seemed to be missing entirely. And whatever was left was still here, staring ahead, all alone… Wait… He couldn’t seem to remember much, but shouldn’t someone be here with him…? Somebody… WENDY! Where’s Wendy? Wendy was here with me, just a second ago! I need Wendy. I like Wendy. Wendy is nice. Wendy is pretty. Wendy. I need Wendy. Where’s Wendy?

He looked around.

He appeared to be in some kind of forest, deep beneath the overhanging shadows of the Pines. In fact, it wasn’t dissimilar to the woods of Gravity Falls; that familiar, wild environment wherein he felt most at home in this world. He didn’t see any buildings around, though now that he looked, there did seem to be some kind of hatches and doors built and hidden into the landscape; in hollows in the trees, in the gaps between roots, beneath bushes on the forest floor. Quite a lot of hatches… That was his first hint.

But the world was also grey, perfectly grey. The shadows were deep, the light was uncertain, even flickering, and everything bore the unmistakable marks of decay and neglect. But it was all grey; not even a hint of color… That was his second hint.

Oh… He put it together. This is the mindscape. When we were in Stan’s mind, it took the form of his home, with memories locked behind creaky wooden doors. This takes the form of my home… Or at least, the place I love the most… With memories sealed beneath shadowy hatches, deep in the forest… Somehow, I must be inside my own mind…

What happened? Why am I here? Is Bill around? Does he have something to do with this? I thought he was dead. Who put me here? And why can’t I remember what happened? Is there anyone else here?? Wendy!

In answer to his questions, loud, omnipresent words suddenly echoed through the trees. The words had no voice, no form or language. As if the words had not been spoken at all, but rather their meaning had been carved directly into his brain.

-INPUT: This is a test. Can you receive and respond to stimulus?

Dipper found he couldn’t speak. Huh? He thought. What does that mean? Who is that? What ‘stimulus’?

-INPUT: Think about the color purple.

Huh? Why would I think of the color purple? He wondered. Many pretty flowers are purple. Purple lightsabers are cool. Pacifica wears a purple dress. Purple lightsabers are REALLY cool. But Wendy wears green. Her hair is not green. Also trees are green. There are no green flowers. Why aren’t there any green flowers? I guess it makes sense that there are no green flowers; the bright colors are for bees to locate them. How would they locate a flower that blends in, huh? All the green flowers would die out…

-INPUT: You appear to be thinking almost normally. Are you capable of memory and learning?

What’s this loon talking about?

-INPUT: Try to remember this phrase: the ball is yellow.

Which ball are we talking about? Everything here is grey, and I don’t see a ball.

-INPUT: To demonstrate that you can learn, repeat the phrase back to me.

I can’t really talk, so how am I supposed to repeat? Wait, was the ball red or yellow? It seems like red is the most likely primary color for a ball to be. Unless they’re tennis balls, or the Pixar thing with the lamps.

-INPUT: Good enough, I suppose.

Wait a minute, somebody’s reading my mind! The words are responding to my thoughts!

-INPUT: That is astute. Now, can you remember your name and other basic information?

My name…? Uh… My name is Pine Tree something… Dipper! Yeah, Dipper… Dipper Pine Tree. Right? Man, that’s a stupid name. Did my parents just hate me or something? A dipper is an old-timey ladle for serving soup. They call me dipstick when they want to be mean. Sometimes Wendy calls me dipstick too, but that’s kind of more like friendly mocking. Not mean really.

-INPUT: Can you recall your real name, your current city and state of residence, and your sister’s hair color?

Her hair was reddish-pink… But it changed from week to week. She was always knitting new hair. And I’m in California of course. Gravity Falls, California.

-INPUT: What is your REAL name?

Dipper…

-INPUT: The decay is extremely severe…

Decay? Dipper glanced around his mindscape, suddenly worried at the implication. And he saw craters in the ground, gaping beneath splintered, fallen trees. Hatches and doors shattered off their hinges, or buried in rockslide. Words and labels and maps blurred or burned or defaced. And he realized he was looking at a place of utter ruin. This is my brain… Good grief, has it always been like this? What memories are lying there smashed? What pathways are now unwalkable…?

I used to be the smart one…

If I’m not the smart one, who am I…?

-INPUT: Do you feel ready to understand complex ideas?

Complex ideas? Well… I don’t know, look at this place… Does this mean I need to go back to kindergarten? Am I retarded now? Wait, if this thing is reading my thoughts, did it hear that? And that? It did! It’s hearing everything I think! This is creepy! I can’t think about embarrassing things like Wendy! Wendy is nice. Wendy is pretty. Where’s Wendy? Is Wendy the one reading my mind? Oh no! Is Mabel the one reading my mind? If that’s Mabel, then no matter what I do, I cannot think about dead kittens.

-INPUT: This is your Great Uncle Ford, and you deserve an explanation.

-INPUT: You died, Dipper. You died in battle defending Wendy Corduroy. I recovered your body before it underwent cell death, and used the brain scanner in my study to make a backup copy of your consciousness. I didn’t tell anybody besides Stan for fear of raising false hope, and neither of us were optimistic. And… Honestly, my plans didn’t go further than that; than maintaining a copy. I’m not sure where to go from here. And seeing as how the copy is only partial, and how rapidly it decays, I doubt I can go very far.

-INPUT: You did not perceive any passage of time between your death and now because I did not have a computer powerful enough to accommodate a living mind.

-INPUT: However, I found a temporary solution in the form of your sister. She is currently in a coma in the lab, and her brain is being used to host both of your minds. She is thinking for both of you. However, she is only thinking a fraction as fast under the load; already half an hour has elapsed since I began this interface.

-INPUT: Your sister has been extremely troubled since your death, and Stanley brought her to me hoping I could heal her or cheer her up. That is the only reason you’ve been activated at this point. After I uninstall you from her mind and deactivate her coma, you will not remember any of this, although she will. She needs you. And this will double as a viable field test for further tentative experiments with your copy.

-INPUT: Do you comprehend all this information?

It took a little while, and it put some stress on the borrowed corners of Mabel’s mind, but Dipper did slowly ‘comprehend’ the situation. Evidently, Ford saw when he’d finished his understanding.

-INPUT: Good. Now, there’s somebody who wants to see you. I’ll leave you two alone.

In the corner of his eye, he saw something that wasn’t grey. Something colorful, picking its way towards him through the rubble. Something with a reddish-pink sweater, and brown hair. “D… Dipper?”

…Mabel?

“And you brought this WHY?”

“Wull…” McGucket fished his own mind for an adequate explanation. “We gave all them magnet guns ta Dan’s posse, so I gist thought we might need somethin’ if we ran into some ‘drones’ or somesuch down there… An I just built this, so I figured we could give it a go!”

“Well, yeah!” Stan shrugged. “But how far are we planning on carrying this? It’s like the size of my…!”

“Is that the ‘plasma beam’ you mentioned?” Wendy came walking up.

“Ye reckon straight!” McGucket’s robo-pants whirred and clattered as he did a little jig, the massive sci-fi weapon cradled in his arms. “It uses these here magnetic containment thingums ta fire a six-million-degree trickle of deuterium-helium hogwash with an effective range of 50 meters, half-meter penetration capability into all types of material and armor, as well as tank capacity for 200 some-odd shots, and it even hambones yeh a tune while it charges!” He pressed a button and the weapon began to emit a country song from an onboard record player.

“…Why.” Wendy blinked. “You have a death ray. Why did you build a death ray.”

“Wull… I started fiddlin’ with it back when we first met them robit’s, as a weapon ta punch through ‘em instantly if push ever came ta shove… I…” The joy left his voice. “I guess I invented it too late.”

“Hmm.” Wendy grunted, trying not to sound too mean, but maybe sounding mean anyway by accident. “It’s okay. It’ll still be useful for the… Alien drone things though, right?”

“Aww, it’ll punch right through ‘em, surefire. The thermal expansion strain from even a near miss oughta be enough to crack their outer shells…”

“It’s still way too big.” Stan repeated. “You sure you can haul that stupid thing all the way down the ladder?”

“Ehhhhhhhh…”

“You do you then.” Stan grunted. “But I’ll be hauling some good ol’ fashioned ray guns.” He patted his bulging pockets. “You want one, Wendy?”

She took two. “And Ford isn’t coming?” She clarified.

“Can’t. He’s… He’s got work ta do. Plus he’s lookin’ after my other great neice…”

She shot him a glare that promised to carve out his kidney stones with a belt sander.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, an edgy, gothic van came rolling up the driveway behind them. As Wendy tucked Ford’s blasters into her belt, she glanced over her shoulder. “Ugh.” She sighed when she recognized the vehicle. “I’ll deal with this, guys…”

She met Robbie face-to-face before he’d even made it around from the driver-side. His slouching lope came to an abrupt stop when she demanded. “What are you doing here, dude?”

“Well, I just, like…” He looked almost as confused as he did sour. “I wanted to help…?”

“We’re fine, dude. Plus it’s kind of top-secret what we’re doing, so…”

“Well, I’m, like, prepared!” His slouch straightened just slightly, as he gestured to a weapon across his back. “I’ve got a sawed-off shotgun, some gnarly knives, a van, a skateboard…?”

“We’re fine.” She repeated. “We don’t really need… We’re fine… And hey, how did you even know we’re doing anything at all? This is kind of secret…”

“Well, I wanted to go with your dad’s gang out to the forest, but your dad doesn’t really like me, so I didn’t ask… And I didn’t see you with them so I thought I’d come here to… You know. What are you doing? I can totally keep a secret, I promise…! Like, I kept Tambry’s secret!”

“What’s Tambry’s secret?”

“Ha ha. Nice try.”

Wendy glared at him for a moment. “Why?” She asked.

That took him off-guard. “Well… Whaddaya mean?”

“Why are you so dead-set on coming with someone? To do something? What does it matter to you?”

“Well… Well, everyone wants to help… And… Especially after what happened, I just felt like I should—”

“Ooh-HOO, after what happened, huh? Yeah?” She challenged him. “You wanna tell me you’re sorry he died?” She stuck a finger in his face. “You wanna tell me he was a good man, that he died a hero, and that it’s really such a shame, and all that? It would be a nice gesture from anybody else, but from you, it’s dishonest! I’m dealing with so much crap right now… All of us, all of this, everything we’re doing, it’s all for him! So a little sympathy from his personal nemesis, a little kind word from you, that’s the last thing I need… Just… Just leave…”

Robbie hesitated for a moment, and his eyes fell, for he knew all this was true. “…But…” He set his jaw, seemed to draw some kind of determination, and tried again. “What if I said I was sorry?” He growled, as if angry at nobody in particular. “Not just ‘sorry’ as in ‘man, that sucks, sorry’, but ‘sorry’ as in ‘I… I seriously boned it… And I know it. Through the year I’ve known him, and the years I’ve known you, all I’ve done is just mess up and I haven’t given you or him the respect you deserve, and… And… I could have been there for you guys. At any point I could have. But I didn’t… So… So I’d do, like, do anything to make it up… I’m just… This is my chance to prove I’m not a loser. Like… Redemption, right? …I’m just sorry.”

Wendy understood that much.

She sighed and glanced at the other 2 men.

McGucket shrugged.

“My vote says scram…” Stan glowered. “But you know him best.”

Wendy turned back to Robbie. Ugh… Robbie… She sighed to herself. Why the heck did you have to get wrapped up in this? You’re the one person I DON’T want getting underfoot… But…

But he’s just trying to help. He said he’s sorry for what he’s done, and… He wants to clear his name. In my sight, and in Dipper’s posthumously. He’s seeking honor. Seeking redemption. Who am I to keep him from that? We all want redemption. We’ve all done countless wrong things that we long to repay for.

Perhaps he and I are in this for the same reasons. We want to prove ourselves. We want to cry out to the world that we’re not screw-ups… We want to become like Dipper: Somebody worthy of love.

But I’ve got a weird feeling in my gut that tells me he doesn’t really mean it. When I look deep into his eyes, something seems off, just slightly… There’s something here I should be paranoid about, but I have no clue what it is…

Something’s not being said here.

For a while after, Wendy wondered if she would regret saying “Sure. Fine.”

#The Forest Of Daggers #wendip #wendy x dipper #gravity falls #scifi #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #shapeshifter #see you next summer #fanfiction #fanart #alien #robot #ghost #wendipweek