Gravity Rises (S1)

PF: Part Four

Dipper lay awake in the darkness, listening to the sounds of his sister's breathing and the groaning and shifting of machinery around the bunker. He'd been able to sleep earlier, but now he found himself unable to close his eyes. All traces of drowsiness were gone from his mind.

Beside him, Mabel stirred in her sleep. He'd wished so hard that she and Ford wouldn't fight tonight — just like he'd wished every night for the past three days — but the tension between the two had gotten too big to ignore. Part of Dipper was glad that they'd finally yelled at each other, instead of just sitting there pretending to be civil. These last few days, they had been so hard to be around.

With that thought, Dipper suddenly felt confined in his sleeping bag. He was too enclosed in this bunker. He had to get out of here, if just for a moment. He needed some time outside, away from Ford and, yes, Mabel. He would be back before they woke up, he was sure, although he didn't know what time it was.

He carefully eased himself out of his sleeping bag, careful not to nudge the sleeping form of Mabel beside him. He had fallen asleep in his clothes, so he tugged on his shoes and stood up as quietly as possible. Then he took his first cautious step away from his sister.

He was a few steps away when he heard her whimper.

He turned back, even though he couldn't see her. There was a moment of silence; then, she whimpered again. She must be doing it in her sleep.

Dipper couldn't just leave her, not without doing something. He stepped back, leaning down carefully in the dark until he found her sleeping bag. His hand rested on her shoulder as he crouched beside her. She continued whimpering for a few moments, then stopped and rolled away from his hand.

Dipper let out a soft breath and stood up, this time resolving to walk away. He took slow, shuffling steps, using the nearby shelf as a guide. He had dropped his flashlight somewhere around here, he knew. Soon, his foot bumped against something; when he bent down, his fingers curled around the cool metal of the flashlight.

He didn't turn it on, not until he had run out of shelf to guide him. Even then, he covered the flashlight with his hand, so that the light dimly peeked through his fingers. With the muffled light, he could just make out the outline of things around him. He stepped out from behind the shelf to see Ford's sleeping form on the cot across the bunker. Still moving carefully, Dipper made it to the exit and pulled the lever to open it up.

Was the machinery always this loud, he wondered, when the bunker door was opening? Luckily, neither Ford nor Mabel woke up. The door to the bunker slid open; with a breath of relief, Dipper made his way up the stairs.

He waited for the bunker entrance to close before he took his hand off the flashlight. But the night was clear, and he could see the stars. He didn't need the flashlight, he decided, and he clicked it off. The freezing night air invigorated him as he craned his neck back to look at the stars that peeked through the treetops. They winked down at him, but they were fading; the first rays of dawn were poking up from the horizon.

It was beautiful. Just a couple minutes of this, and he'd be okay to go back down into the bunker.

"Dipper," came a sing-songy voice on the wind.

Dipper felt his insides turn as cold as the snow. No. . . no, he had just imagined it.

"Dipper! I'm here for you."

Not her, not her, not her—

"I'm here, darling."

He saw the purple glow before he saw her. Pacifica Pleasure stepped out from behind a tree, grinning eerily in the light of her amulet. For an instant, every muscle, every thought, every instinct in Dipper's body froze.