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CodyLabs — Forest of Daggers: Chapter 19
#alien #fanart #fanfiction #ghost #robot #scifi #shapeshifter #gravityfalls #dipperpines #wendyxdipper #wendycorduroy #wendip #seeyounextsummer #forestofdaggers
Published: 2018-07-19 17:30:07 +0000 UTC; Views: 9197; Favourites: 42; Downloads: 0
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Chapter 19: The Worst of Times
Author’s Note: There are so (SOOOOOO) many illustrations for this story that I couldn't put 100% into all of them. For this reason, I tended to focus on the characters when they were important, and leave out environment and backgrounds whenever necessary. (When drawing with pencil, backgrounds are hands-down the most tedious thing of all to draw.) So in many cases, such as in this picture, I just left the background blank and used digital methods to shade it. This shading is actually a pretty cool tool, since I can use it to add drama. For instance, this picture is kind of yellowish amd friendly-colored toward the upper left where Dan's opening the door, but its darker and more black toward the right where the empty chair is. So yeah. Symbolism ftw!
This picture is also one of the saddest I've ever drawn. It got a strong and immediate reaction from my mom, who's never read the story and doesn't know what's going on. So anyway, yeah.
An honest-to-goodness alien spaceship came careening out of the sky, directly toward the town. At the last possible second, it pulled up and curved away, close enough that the people on the streets could feel the pull of its gravity drive. Then it swerved unstably side to side through the sky, as its pilot attempted to get bearings. Soon it seemed to pick a direction, and so tilted on one end and raced off toward the hills, slicing off a couple treetops as it went. When it passed over the Mystery Shack, it took a sudden drop in altitude, hovered into something resembling a standstill, bumped once into the side of the building, and settled to the ground upside-down.
Its engines wined tiredly as it rolled itself back right-side-up, and finally came to a rest right between Soos’ truck and the Stans’ RV, like just another car in the parking lot.
The airlock momentarily opened and two sore but triumphant teenagers blinked in the light.
“Ugh…” Dipper dropped the alien instruction manual and rubbed his arms with a groan. “Ow…”
“Bro…” Wendy staggered slightly and shook her head, her inner ear still spinning from the flight’s antics. She gripped her fingers around the upper rim of the airlock, and hoisted herself out before extending a hand down to Dipper. “That was… Bleh…”
“Yeah… Bleh…” Dipper took her hand, and let himself be lifted up.
“Let’s… Uh…” Wendy set him down beside her and gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Yeah… Let’s not… Not do that again.”
They both dropped down off the vehicle’s rim, limped over to the Mystery Shack porch, and plopped themselves down on the sofa, where they could massage and stretch their sore bodies in relative peace.
After about 5 minutes of sitting there groaning, Wendy reached an arm way over in the direction of the cooler, and came back with a pair of ice cream sandwiches. One she tossed to Dipper, the other she unwrapped herself. The cool milky goodness reminded them how hot they were, and they began to unbuckle and loosen their armor. Wendy took a moment to admire all the scratches and dents she’d accumulated on her shoulder pads, and Dipper took a moment to subtly readjust his pants for reasons we won’t go into. Finally he spoke up again. “Yeah… And if we do do that again… I’ll drive.”
“What? No…” She smirked sharply at him. “That was fun, man… I mean… I mean, that wasn’t bad, was it?”
A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “…You drive spaceships about as well as you drive cars.”
“Yeah, well…” She struggled for a retort. “Well… You read Alien-ese about as well as you read Spanish. ‘That’s the reactor ignition’ you said. ‘push that button’ you said. ‘try those switches over there’ you said… But was it any of those?”
“No… No, we made it out by dumb luck…”
“Yeah…”
“Ugh… Sorry.”
She blinked. “Yeah… Hey, you know what, I’m sorry too. I totally forgot all about the rotation controls there during takeoff. And I guess I am a pretty bad pilot all-in-all…”
“Ahh… It’s fine… It’s just barf. It washes out…”
“Ha ha… Ooooh.” She took another bite of ice cream. “That’s gross dude.”
“Breaking news! Dipper is gross!” A new voice suddenly joined the conversation, its owner leaping out of the door to land in a smug summersault before them. With a big metal smile and a voice like a TV announcer, she held her own ice cream sandwich like a microphone. She was talking again by the time the screen door banged shut behind her. “Stay tuned next time for these and other shocking revelations, such as: grass is green!”
“Ugh! Mabel!” Dipper frowned.
“What is UP, Dippingsauce?!? Say, when did you guys get back?”
“Like… Just now?” Wendy shrugged.
“Mabel!” Dipper hissed at a volume he thought was quiet. “Go. A. Way. You were ruining the… Ermmmph…?” He nodded toward Wendy in a way he thought was discreet.
“Oh, what?” Mabel laughed. “Did I ruin the moment? I thought you were talking about how gross you were! Well excuse ME for mussing up the moment, you adorable lovebirds!”
“I…! Guh! Mabel! Go away!”
“Maybe I will, but I'll never be faaaar... Ooooh-weeEEEEE-Oooooh...!” She made a mysterious alien noise.
“Say…” Wendy interrupted, eager as anyone to steer the girl toward alternative conversation topics. “What have you been doing all day, dude?”
“Oh, ME?” Mabel smiled. “Well, I… I! I have been thinking and braining and computing, and I think I’ve finally found a way for you guys to solve your little adventure. A big, grand, happy solution! A way that doesn’t involve killing all the alien robots. I way where people are still safe, but also nothing has to be extinct!”
“Oh yeah?” Dipper glanced at her, intrigued. “And what would this big, grand, happy solution be?”
“Nuh-UH! I can’t tell you! It’s a super secrety secret that only Soos and Robbie are allowed to—SWEET MOTER OF CINNAMON IS THAT A UFO?!?”
“Uh…” Dipper glanced over his shoulder. “That? No, of course not.” He shook his head and took another bite of ice cream. “’UFO’ stands for ‘Unidentified Flying Object.’ Whereas that machine is perfectly identified. It is a nuclear-powered sub-light cargo shuttle manufactured on Trilazzxx Beta, as exploratory equipment for Colonial Vessel 4.16’\. An extraterrestrial spacecraft. Not a UFO.”
“OH MY GEEEEEEEE…! Soos, get out here! Dipper and Wendy got us a UFO!”
Soos appeared at the door with a heaping mouthful of grass. “DUDE!” He gasped some down his windpipe, and spent the next several seconds coughing it back up as he ran after Mabel toward the vehicle. “Dude it’s a spaceship! Duuuuude!”
“Duuuuuuude!”
“Duuuuuuuuude!”
“DUUUUUUUUUUUDE!”
Mabel and Soos clambered up the side and disappeared down the airlock.
“…And we’re sure that thing is harmless, right?” Dipper blinked.
“At this point? Yes. And I also took the keys.” Wendy reached into her pocket and pulled out something like a cross between a sonic screwdriver and a feather duster. “I think these are the keys, at least…”
“Ha ha… Good move…”
“Yeah…”
They were silent for a few minutes more.
Dipper took a deep breath.
Wendy took a deep breath.
“So…” He began.
“So…” She began at the exact same time. This seemed to cause some form of mutual interruption, and caused them to both stop talking.
“Go ahead.”
“No, you go ahead.”
“Okay…” She continued. “So…” She let the word hang in the air for a minute, unsure of how to follow up on it. “So… We started a conversation earlier that we never got to finish.”
“Oh…” Dipper stammered. “Oh yeah. Uh… We did, huh? Yeah…”
“About how this adventure might very well be our last. About how if we’re not careful, we might never hang out again. About how I’ll miss you and you’ll miss me and neither of us really want that to happen and, like, what should we do about that…?”
“Uh… Uh… Yeah…”
“Hmm.” Wendy grunted.
And then they fell silent again.
Finally Dipper opened his mouth. Then he closed it, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Wendy, uh… I was wondering if tomorrow… Uh… If… Uh…”
“What?”
“Uh…” A spell of dizzy itchiness seized him about that time, and it got just a little too much to bear. “Uh…”
“What?” She repeated.
“Umm… Never mind.”
“No no no no!” She insisted. “You started a conversation earlier, and now you better finish it. And you just started a sentence just now, so you darn better finish that too. If you really do have something you want to say, you darn better man up and speak up, or who knows; one of us could die in the meantime. You never know when you'll never have another chance, so take it now.”
“UH!” He squirmed nervously. “No, it’s not… Never mind. I changed my mind.”
“Changed your mind…? Really?”
“Uh…” Dipper took a breath, set his jaw, and finally said. “Okay.” Then he looked her in the eye and, with a truly monumental effort of courage, said it. “Wendy… Do you want to go on a date with me tomorrow?”
Her mouth slowly spread into a little smile as she leaned back and took another bite of her ice cream sandwich. Then she said. “I do.”
Then…!
Then… That was…
That was it… Wasn’t it?
That night Wendy came home tired, happy, and strangely optimistic… Everything seemed pretty good. Pretty chill.
Everything wasn't pretty good.
When she crawled into bed, turned out the lights and drifted off to sleep, something was wrong… It wasn't a happy sleep. A darkness seemed to encroach upon her mind, and forced upon it a new vision; a new vision, filled with darkness.
Within this evil nightmare, the day seemed to run the same way that she remembered. Just the way it was supposed to… Yes, everything was exactly the same… Until…
Until everything went wrong.
The ship exploded. Little bits and pieces flew from its port-side wing, as it tumbled for the ground. The controls fought back against her, the ground came much too fast, she missed the yard entirely, and crashed in the forest.
The ship tumbled end over end, breaking into pieces, littering the landscape with debris. Fires started. Radiation cooked the area at the atomic level. Ford evacuated people for their own protection. When he found Wendy, he had her strip to her underwear before he blasted her with the hose, trying his best to decontaminate her scarred skin.
But Ford had been irradiated himself; an even higher dosage than she. He was sick within hours, and nobody had seen much of him since. They say he’d retreated to the solitude of his lab, where he spent the hours and days doing who-knows-what.
Soos had to move his family out of the Shack. And as they sat together in a lonely motel room, he realized that there was so much heartbreak and brokenness and chaos roaming about that he couldn’t fix it. Even the greatest handyman in the world couldn’t fix it. He knew it, and the knowledge tore him up inside.
Melody had her hands full enough just trying to keep the hotel room in shape.
Abuelita found herself without her recliner for the first time in decades. The futon was a pretty big step down.
Stan found himself as a caretaker of sorts. He kept them fed and sheltered, much as he was able, kept them together and stable to the greatest of his ability. The same man who had brought them all together as Mr. Mystery now brought them together as their Grunkle. And what a Grunkle he was; but even he couldn’t reach Mabel.
Mabel.
As for her, there were no words for what she felt. It seemed that something inside her had suddenly snapped, and she’d retreated into her shell. Nothing seemed to be able to pierce through.
And Dipper…
Dipper was dead!
Wendy awoke with a sudden gasp, and found herself sitting up in bed, the sheets hot and sticky against her skin, her eyes glued on the moon out the window, her breath coming ragged and heavy.
What a nightmare that had been! It was so vivid! Almost as vivid as reality! When she tried to remember it, it didn’t elusively fade like dreams usually do; she could recall it so clearly… The image of Dipper’s bloody, broken body still hovered before her eyes, the broken lives and dreams, the sickness, the pain. She could see it almost as clearly… As… Reality…
But… Wait… Reality…?
Reality was the happy landing… The ice cream… The smiles… The awkward little invitation…
Right?
What was…?
What…
Which was the dream?!?
Wendy’s eyes slowly strayed around her room, searching in dread for the clues which would tell her.
She saw the 4 journals lying open on her desk; three red with the symbol of a hand, and one blue with the symbol of the tree.
She saw the pitcher lying next to her bed, so she had a place to barf if she again felt sick in the night.
She felt the light cotton shirt across her chest, the only thing she could wear that didn’t hurt so bad when it rubbed on her radiation burns.
She saw the little container on her nightstand, with some long, cumbersome scientific label: the pills Ford had given her to flush the latent Uranium from her body.
She saw her calendar, with its extra marks telling her she’d been bedridden 4 days now.
She saw the ‘get well soon’ cards her friends had made, lying in a messy little stack.
She saw last night’s dinner sitting where dad had left it on the foot of her bed; stone cold and untouched…
And on the windowsill directly in front of her, she saw a shattered, oil-stained axe; the axe Dipper had used to defend her to his dying breath.
Wendy’s mind, now fully awake, began to put the grim picture together: the happy ending was the dream. Instead of the nightmare, it was the good day that faded quickly from her consciousness, leaving nothing to recall it by except a vague, groundlessly hopeful feeling. The nightmare had taken its place in her memory.
And now, Wendy was struck with a sudden and powerful feeling of Deja-Vu: she’d been having the same dream for the past 4 nights. Each time, she vaguely recalled the relief, the peace, the life and love… Everything always seemed pretty chill… Then each time, she fell asleep. And the dream within a dream was a nightmare, and when she woke from both she beheld that the nightmare was true. Somehow, inexplicably, it had always been true…
Reality was the nightmare…
Bill would have been tickled pink.
Wendy would suffer no more sleep tonight. Instead she eased herself out of bed, dragging the quilt behind her for warmth. Then she flipped on the lamp above her desk, and watched the weathered pages of the journals appear before her in the yellowish light. Her butt landed on the chair, and her eyes landed on the pages, and there both stayed as the small hours ticked by.
This wasn’t right. She told herself. It wasn’t this way, and it won’t be this way. I don’t know how it could ever be fixed, but there IS a way, and I WILL find it. As she turned another page, she repeated this promise to herself a second time, and she believed it. She knew it.
Wherever you are, Dipper… Listen to me, and don’t you give up hope. Things look bad right now but somehow, somewhere, sometime, I’m coming for you. I will save you.
You had honor and grit beyond your years, Dipper. You were the one who taught me determination. You were the one who taught me heroism. Whatever it is I need to do, I learned it from you. If it had been me dead out there, you would have done the same and more for me, with neither hesitation nor doubt. And you wouldn’t have let depression or despair or a little Acute Radiation Syndrome stand in your way.
Listen to me Dipper, and hold fast.
I won’t be long.
I promise you life.
“Learn to think dark thoughts, my girl.”
These were the words Robbie had given Mabel 4 days ago, when he’d scorned her spirit and left her. These words had been given to her 23 minutes before Dipper died.
She shouldn’t logically have known of his demise on such short notice. She’d been in the van at the time, on the way to the motel, complaining and talking and joking with Soos and Melody… Then… She’d suddenly and inexplicably felt a piece of her soul shatter to pieces. Maybe it was just the minutes ticking by when nobody spoke or called. Maybe she’d suddenly put it all together: how the only place a dirty UFO could have come from is on-planet. How the only people who were currently investigating aliens (and thus the only ones who would ever find such a craft and try to land it in their yard) were Dipper and Wendy. Maybe Robbie’s words had set off a chain reaction of unreasonable, escalating paranoia.
It was probably the work of some kind of latent twin ESP.
It didn’t matter how she’d known.
She just had.
And thus did the civil war begin.
It was the spark that set the two sides of Mabel’s soul afire in hatred against the other. They donned their armor, they took up weapons, and they charged headlong into war on the surface of her mind.
The light half of her brain cried foul at the claims of the darkness; it said that Dipper wasn’t dead at all. “It’s all right!” The light half said. “What do you mean he’s dead? Of course he’s all right! He’s always been all right! He’s always been there for you, you’ve always been there for him, and nothing in the universe can stand between! That’s the way it’s always been, and that’s the way it will always be! Your love for him conquers all! And even if he is dead; so what? Together, you’ve conquered things more powerful than death before, and you will conquer them again! You’ve battled across space and time, you’ve grappling-hooked your way through demons and robots! So long as the name ‘Pines’ still dances in the sunny fields of Gravity Falls, your hope and your love will endure! Stand up and laugh at cruel fate, Mabel! The others need your strength!”
“Of course he’s dead.” The dark side retorted. “He went off alone with Wendy; he spent more and more time with her, less and less time with you, because he wanted to leave you behind! He thought you were too sweet and young and foolish for his duty, and he was right… He left you because he knew you couldn’t handle the grown-up world! The real world… It is dark and twisted and dangerous, filled with evil men, just like Robbie told you! Dipper left you for this world, and his foray into its clutches destroyed him. He should have stayed with you, growing young and stupid by your side, but he didn’t… And now what will you do, you glittery, girly little fart? You will sit down and you will cry, because bringing him back means following him into that grim world, and you are too cowardly for the task!”
Yes, it was true: only half of the mind was occupied by Mabel’s old self… The other half was something terrible and ugly and foreign… Some part of herself she’d either never noticed or always tried to repress. Where did this other half come from? How did it get into my brain? Why are you here? Why won’t you leave me alone? Help, somebody help! It’s hurting me!
No matter how the fires raged on that battleground, the darkness would not be subdued.
But that whole evening, the light side would not be subdued either. It had been holding aloft that one and singular hope: the hope and that this was all just a weird onset of paranoia. But… But what kind of person was paranoid enough to instantly become certain of a dark truth she couldn’t have known? Even Dipper hadn’t been that bad. Nobody was that paranoid, certainly not sweet, optimistic little Mabel… Certainly not sweet, optimistic, innocent, supportive, carefree, cheery, bubbly, joyous, happy little Mabel… Certainly not I…
Dipper was dead; she knew it but she didn’t know it, and that was the misery she had lived until 7:28 that night. And that was when Melody, the most adult-like adult present, got a call from Ford. She’d listened to the news with a steely frown for some 10 minutes, whispering questions just outside Soos and Mabel’s hearing.
Then she nodded, said something to Soos, and handed the phone to Mabel.
Mabel turned away before she could see Soos’ reaction, then pressed the earpiece to her head, and, in a barely steady voice, demanded of the man on the other end. “He’s dead? He’s dead, isn’t he? Dipper’s dead?”
Ford hadn’t dared to hesitate; she’d waited long enough. “Yes.” He’d said.
She vaguely remembered dropping the phone, then curling up in someplace cold and dark, pulling her head and limbs into her sweater, and crying. Deep inside the impenetrable inner sanctum of Sweatertown, the darkness gained ground. “I was right.” It said. “You are foolish, you are stupid, you are weak, and I was right. Now you are all alone, and there is nobody to help you. Your brother is gone, your uncles are just uncles, your friends are just friends, your Soos is just a Soos, and none of them know you anymore. The Shooting Star burned so bright and beautiful in its time, but a shooting star is just a falling star, and its shine is merely its vaporization. The atmosphere has torn it apart, and now a cracked, rough, beaten, cold shell comes plummeting for the ground; an impact that will surely dash it to pieces… Poor, poor Shooting Star… At last… At long, long last, it’s time for you to become something new…”
Thusly did the sweet, optimistic, innocent, supportive, carefree, cheery, bubbly, joyous, happy little Mabel slowly rot.
Robbie’s words echoed over the blackened, besieged walls of Sweatertown.
“Learn to think dark thoughts, my girl…”
Such thoughts had begun to ooze.
Dan tucked in his shirt and buckled his suspenders, as he glanced tiredly at the clock. He had to leave for work in 15 minutes… He supposed that was long enough to try once more to talk.
So he scooped a couple eggs and some sausage off the stove and onto a plate, and carried them over to his daughter’s sealed door. With one massive fist he knocked once, and waited a minute for the response that never came.
She didn’t want to talk. She never wanted to talk.
So he opened it anyway, and took a timid step within.
She was sitting at her desk, wrapped tightly in a quilt and little else, as seemed to be habit these past few days. Before her, arranged on the table like some kind of ritual, were all those old confounded books… What was she doing?
Whatever it was, she didn’t think it warranted showing to him.
Her back was turned, and there it stayed. Her gaze was forward, and there it stayed, as she flipped page after page, slowly and methodically, scanning from book to book to book to book. Occasionally she scribbled a note or a question or an answer here or there. Sometimes she checked a little chart she’d scribbled on the wall, that seemed to be some kind of code. Sometimes she fact-checked the blue one with the red ones, or the red ones with each other.
Always she was looking. Looking for what? Dan couldn’t guess. Why the sudden interest in books, when she’d never liked them even a little? Dan hadn’t a clue. What strange books were these, that could promise answers among matters of life and death? Dan hesitated to speculate. What did she believe stood to gain by pouring over scribbles all through the late and early hours? It didn’t make much sense to him. But somehow, such folly seemed infinitely important to her. Indeed, by the intensity of her studies, it seems she believed in it… WHY? He wondered again. WHAT IS THERE TO BELIEVE? WHAT IS SHE THINKING? IS SHE HOPING? HOPING FOR WHAT? AND HOW? HOW DOES HOPE FOLLOW FROM A SITUATION LIKE THIS…?
Well… He figured she probably knew a lot more about this than he did. Whatever she was thinking, he hoped to God that she was right.
He set her breakfast down on her bed, to replace her untouched dinner.
But before he left, he decided to try once more.
“…WENDY?”
No response, although her shoulders may have tensed just slightly.
“LOOK, I… I KNOW YOU DON’T WANT TO TALK, BUT… BUT. HMM. YEAH… UH… YOU KNOW, WHEN YOUR MOM DIED--”
“Was it your fault?” Dan saw his own daughter spin on him, wild and aggressive, lashing out like a cornered animal. And for the first time, Dan clearly saw that terrible, ungodly look in her eye. It was a look that shocked Dan, even frightened him into taking a step back, because he recognized it well. He hadn’t seen that look in a long time, and he’d hoped to never see it again. That was the look he saw in the mirror, when he met times of true desperation with all he had left: his anger and his willpower. When her mom died. When her brother had hit his head on a hiking trip. When the sky was red and everyone was gone. This was a look of great import.
“I don’t talk.” Wendy growled. “Because I know what you’re going to say, and I’m not gonna listen. You’re gonna ask me why the dickens I was trying to fly an alien spaceship in the first place. Why I didn’t land it properly, or why I showed enough weakness to need protection from some wimpy kid. You’re gonna tell me none of this had happened if I’d have just gotten a job like a good little girl! If I’d have just forgotten the whole thing! You’re gonna tell me I shouldn’t have tried to do this, and now ‘HEY LOOK SOMEBODY’S DEAD! HEY LOOK, NOW YOU’VE GOT ARS AND YOU SHOULDN’T BE OUT OF BED TILL YOUR BONE MARROW HEALS!’ WELL I KNOW IT, DAD! I darn well know I messed up, but I’ll have you know that we had our own good reasons for going out there, for fighting the fight we did, for flying that ship… We believed—No—We knew that we had to! But this wasn’t the way it was supposed to be! We would have lived…! And… And I don’t need another lecture from you telling me how to live my life… Just… Please, just leave…”
Dan stood there for a minute, shocked to silence.
“And…” Wendy announced. “Frankly dad, today’s the day. I don’t think I’ll find any more answers in these books, so I ain’t gonna stay sitting on my butt for one hour longer. You’re gonna leave for work in… What, 11 minutes? Soon as you do, there’s nothing to stop me. I’m gonna get up and I’m gonna head to town. Firstly to collect some equipment I lost in the crash. Secondly to get some questions answered. Third to buy a new bike, because the robot ate my old one. Forthly to visit the Pines, and tell them the half of the story they haven’t heard yet. Fifthly to just clear my head… I know Ford said to stay in bed, stay in my room, until I’m stronger; well screw him. I’m going, because this is more important. And… And that’s the way it is, so there…”
Her gaze passed off of him, as she turned back to her books.
Dan frowned for a good long time, his brain working to process all of this. He started off angry. Then he got confused. Then he stopped being confused, and he knew what he needed to do.
He could be late for work just once.
“UH…” He finally said, as he turned for the door. “I WON’T HAVE YA WALKIN’ ALL THE WAY TA TOWN IN YER HEALTH. GET YER STUFF TOGETHER, EAT YER BREAKFAST, AND I’LL MEET YA IN THE TRUCK… AND FER THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S HOLY, PUT ON SOME PANTS! YOU’LL CATCH YER DEATH OF COLD…”
10 minutes later, she locked the front door behind her, and turned for the truck. She’d dressed herself approximately as she usually did: jeans, boots, jacket. But this time, that faded cap with the pine tree seemed more prominent on her head. And she was carrying more than an axe today; the blue journal was tucked in her unbuttoned jacket.
She was dressed for this business. But she wasn’t feeling it. The eggs and meat tumbled in her empty stomach like they didn’t belong. The chill morning air bit harshly though the inside of her stuffy nose. And her knees, of all things, hurt from so many days of sitting. In every inch of her body there lurked these subtle hardships of sickness. They made her feel thin, weak, even small. As if everything in creation, right down to her very flesh, was conspiring to oppress her. As if, in so many subtle ways, fate had made her less than everybody else.
This must be how Dipper feels every day. She realized.
“READY?” Her dad nodded from the cab of his truck.
She took one more deep breath.
Grit.
“Yep.” She nodded.
“KAY.”
Then she looked over and met her dad’s eye.
Honor.
“…I’m sorry I yelled at you.” She told him. “That was outta turn.”
“’SOKAY.”
“…You’re really not mad at me?”
“…THERE’S A LOTTA THINGS I DON’T UNDERSTAND.” He grunted. “BUT AS FER WHAT YER FEELING… THAT I DO GET. AND EVEN I KNOW BETTER THAN TA STAND IN THE WAY OF A CORDUROY WEARIN’ THAT FACE. NOW… WHERE IS IT YA NEED TA GO?”
She stepped up into the passenger seat, and pulled the door shut behind her. “Uh… McGucket’s handling the salvage from the crash, right? Weren’t you driving the tow truck for the cleanup?”
“YEAH. EVERYTHING WE DIDN’T BURY I TOOK TO HIS PLACE.”
“McGucket Manor then.”
“Hey, make it fast up there, Pumpkin.” Grunkle Stan lowered her gently off his shoulders, and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. His rough, cranky old voice was the gentlest he could make it today. “Don’t wanna be around here longer than we have to… Ha ha… Radiation, and, uh… Heh heh… Y’know. All that… Just get your stuff and come right back down.”
In numb compliance, she walked slowly up the familiar creaking stairs, through the room lit red by the triangular window, and finally into the cramped attic space where all her stuff was…
And all his stuff too… She tried not to look at it.
She stopped by a small metal box that was sitting on her bed. And she stared at it for what felt like minutes, while the mighty battle of light vs. dark raged harder than ever in her soul.
Juan was in that box.
The adorable, innocent little robot that Wendy had found in the woods at the start of all this… Mabel had been the one to keep him fed and charged and happy; who had played with him, and kept him safe from the family who would have meant him harm… Somebody mysterious had even saved him from their hands, and then entrusted him to Mabel, knowing that she still loved and cared for the cub…
Hesitantly, Mabel popped the latches on the box, and looked inside.
Juan was still in there.
He’d been in there 4 days now. No electricity. No room to move. No light. No warmth. No mommy. No love.
Very slowly and weakly he looked up at her. His red eyes were glowing almost too dim to make out, and the most he could do with his legs was wiggle them side to side, as if lacking the power output to even stand up. She could tell that he was nearly dead.
“Oh…!” She choked dryly over her words, and her sight got blurry. “Oh, I’m so sorry Juan…” She reached down with her bare hands, and curled them around his tiny chest. He was even thinner and lighter than she remembered, and his legs were covered in what felt like metal shavings. (Robot poop? Gross…)
He didn’t activate his saws, even when her bare hand accidentally touched them. Maybe he didn’t fear her or hate her anymore; or maybe he was just that helpless.
She rushed over to the wall outlet, sat down next to it, and held his head right up to the socket. Soon as the creature recognized what was happening, it extended its hooks and worked them into the plug. Its entire body seemed to shudder for a moment and then relax. His legs wrapped themselves comfortably around her wrist, and the claws gently plucked at her sweater. His tail wiggled in the cutest way possible, and his entire body seemed relieved, even sleepy as he nursed.
Oh, Juan…
Such a sweet thing…
…
It’s all his fault.
If you hadn’t wandered into that bear trap… Your mom wouldn’t have left you for dead. And then Wendy wouldn’t have found you and taken you home. And then your mom wouldn’t have come back looking for you, and hurt Dan… And then Dipper and Wendy wouldn’t have gone on an adventure to find where you came from… And… And then Wendy wouldn’t have flown that spaceship, Dipper wouldn’t have dueled your mom… Your mom wouldn’t have died, and… AND… AND!
AND DIPPER WOULD STILL BE ALIVE!
Very slowly, Mabel watched her hand reach up to settle on the top of Juan’s head. I’m just going to pet him… It’s all right. I’m just petting you Juan… Don’t be afraid. You need to be… Petted…
But she didn’t pet him. As if it had a mind of its own, Mabel’s hand curled its fingers around the sides of Juan’s head. And her other hand reached around to hold his torso steady.
No…
No, I can’t do this. It’s not… It’s not really his fault. He’s just a baby… He… He… He doesn’t deserve it! What am I thinking?!? He’s innocent! I love him! He’s…
He’s guilty.
I hate him.
Mabel’s fingers tightened. In an instant, her wrists flexed, her arms straightened, and she grunted with effort.
With all her strength, she spun Juan’s head around on his body. And she held it at that terrible angle for a second, flexing with all her strength, waiting for some quiet ‘click’ which would indicate his tiny spine had cracked.
But his neck was made of titanium; it didn’t break.
Suddenly, Mabel froze, and realized what she’d just done.
She dropped Juan on the floor with a gasp, and stood up suddenly, staggering back about 5 steps. Juan shook his sore neck and glanced up at her in an accusing way.
Mabel kept retreating until her back touched the wall. That really happened. She realized. She’d just tried to murder an innocent creature. She, Mabel Pines, had really, truly, with all of her might, tried to end the life of an innocent, adorable baby animal, and all for no reason besides anger…
She broke down into uncontrollable tears, jerked the door open, and rushed headlong down the stairs. Stanley noticed her coming, and, guessing wrongly at the source of her distress, reached up a hand to try and stop her. “Hey, woah, woah, it’s okay, Sweety! C’mere, it’s—”
She blubbered something unintelligible that even she didn’t catch, barreled her way past her Grunkle’s embrace, and sprinted for the back door.
Gone, gone, gone…
Dipper was gone… And now Mabel must be gone too… Yes, something must have taken up residence in my brain, because I would surely never have done that… Surely not I…
The battle in her brain raged on, just as ferociously as ever.
And the light side was getting truly desperate. Has the darkness really won? It asked.
The dark side snickered at the protests of the light. I guess we’ll have to see… It taunted.
Beneath the battle in the brain, Mabel’s legs ran and kept running, while the tears streamed down her face. Grunkle Stan may have been running after her, or he may not… It didn’t really matter; she had faster legs than him anyway.
She ran and she ran.
I tried to kill him! The light side of her brain sobbed. Dipper was the only one I could ever trust, and now I can’t even trust myself!
Geez, this is getting sad! The dark side of her brain cringed. You weren’t even strong enough to break that kid’s neck! Dipper wouldhave couldhave done it better… Whatever you think you’re doing, you definitely need help.
Where are you, Dipper?!? Her light side cried out. What can I even do? Where are you to tease me when I’m silly? Where are you to pick me up when I’m stupid? Where are you to put a bandaid on my soul and give me an awkward sibling hug? Dipper… I need you so BAD…
She ran and she ran until she found herself standing all alone, in a small field of yellow grass. All around the field stooped a scraggly grove of Birch Trees, their trunks banded in sheaths of white bark as smooth as eyelids…
Mabel took a deep breath and wiped her tears, as she sank down into the grass.
Dipper… The light side of her brain pleaded. I would do anything in the universe to get you back…
Oh yeah? The dark side asked. …Did you just say ‘anything’, Shooting Star?
She opened her eyes.
And she saw a small stone statue.
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Comments: 10
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how is jrnal 1 2 3 ther thay were thron in the bottlis pit
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Stan used the magic copier to make copies of them all. So they're basically identical, you just can't get them wet.
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ok thanks i was wundring becus the only plays you see dippers jrnal is in jrnal 3 or art here
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Yeah. I'm not sure if he actually made copies, but I said he did for the sake of my story.
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i know i dout that he did as he was willing to brin thim that is what it says in the book but in sted the brnd all the bill civer stuth ford had and mable shgedid to tho the books in the pit
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So everything sucks and I don't want to live on this planet anymore.
Mabel... Do. Not. Even. Think. About. It.
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