Gravity Falls Fanfic: The Beginning of the End

Chapter 6-More to See

Hey guys! Sorry for the long hiatus, summer is even busier than school. Anyways, super pumped for this chapter-we finally get to introduce Dorrie to something familiar! Also, let's celebrate, Season 2 is finally out! YAY!

I haven't stressed this enough (at all) but I'm so thankful for all you wonderful readers. I honestly did not expect this many reads. You guys are amazing and supportive and a very positive force in my life. Thank you for the wonderful comments and votes, and please enjoy the chapter!

-----

It was a monstrosity of wood, stone, and stained glass. Why it would attract any tourists, I had no idea. It was dilapidated, in the middle of nowhere, and almost certainly a scam. When I related these things to Wendy, she just laughed.

"That's why they come! Hurry up, if I'm late again, Stan's going to raise a fit."

I followed her up a set of creaky stairs, but before Wendy touched the handle, it swung open.

"Wendy! Hi!" Dipper smiled widely. Then he looked over her shoulder, at me. "Oh, hi Dorrie."

"Morning."

"Is it my new best friend coming to visit?" Mabel was at Dipper's side in an instant, hair not combed, and a pig in her arms. It took me a second to remember Waddles. "I think it is! Come on in, folks." As I passed by her, she ruffled my hair.

"Hey dudes!" Soos called. I looked around, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Where are you?" Wendy called.

"In the ceiling fixing stuff! There's a huge rat up here, and I think it likes me."

"That's not sanitary," I said, not really expecting an answer.

I got one, but not from Soos. "Did I hear someone questioning my standards at the Mystery Shack?" A curtain lifted, and hidden doorway revealed the most disturbing sight I had ever seen.

I screamed right along with everybody else.

"Grunkle Stan, put clothes on!" Dipper yelled. Everyone murmured and nodded in agreement, shielding their eyes. I even heard Soos groaning in the ceiling.

"I do have clothes on." Stan gestured to his stained undershirt and faded boxers.

"Those barely count."

The first thing that I noticed (besides the horrifying excuse for pajamas) were Stan's glasses. The lens were thick, magnifying his yellowed, bloodshot eyes. They sat on the bridge of his nose, making the tip look more bulbous than it actually was. He was saggy as well, a ridge of fat sitting on the waistband of his boxers, and in his posture as well, the hunched shoulders of somebody who was carrying the weight of the world. But underneath the decrepit signs of age, there was a hint of steadiness in the way he walked, and I could almost imagine the sturdy man he was forty years ago.

Almost.

"We have world class standards here," Stan continued, ignoring his great-nephew. "Dipper does the cleaning. Soos does the repairing. Mabel does the sparkles. Wendy does the slacking."

"Objection!" Wendy huffed.

"What do you do?" I asked, which was probably not the wisest thing to do in that moment.

"I do the entertaining. Ta-da!" There was a flash of sparks and a cloud of smoke then, and everyone looked away once more, hacking as the smoke entered their lungs. When it dissipated, Stan was in a tuxedo, mercifully clothed. He cut a better figure, his belly sucked in and trapped in the tight waist of the suit. A jaunty crimson fez sat on top of his head, and what looked like a pac-man fish was embroidered on it. "Now get to work!" Stan shouted, rapping a cane on the ground. He disappeared through the same curtain he had entered through.

"Is he gone?" Soos shouted from the ceiling.

-----

There were many rooms in the shack. Winding, rickety staircases led to hallways jammed with doors, or nothing at all. Sometimes, the halls just led to a dead end, or a dormer window.

"Do you guys have a bathroom around here?" I asked Mabel.

"Sure! It's in this hallway." She gestured to a door. I placed my hand on the handle, but to my shock, she slapped me away. "Wait! Wrong door! Don't go in that one. Here, come with me." Mabel led me to a completely different hallway, with only one door on the left wall. It smelled musty, and the wallpaper was faded and peeling. "Here you go! Don't take too long, there's a lot more to see."

"Thanks." I slipped into the bathroom and shut the door, surprised at how much effort it took. The wood was heavier than I expected. As soon as I was alone, I plunged my hand into my bra. The hairbrush was there, warm from my body heat. "Oh god, what did I do?"

I had never stolen, not even once. Most kids I knew had done something—a candy bar, at the very least. But not me. Never me. I thought back to that moment in the convenience store, how the comb seemed to pull me in, hypnotize me. I thought about Myrtle, the tag that peeked out from behind her neck.

"Crap." I leaned on the sink, let my hair dangle in front of my face. There was always tomorrow, but Myrtle would might have discovered the missing brush by then. Maybe she already had. After all, it had been about an hour or two. I heard a sound in the ceiling and my head snapped up. A sprinkling of plaster dust rained from the ceiling into my bob. I looked like I had dandruff, and when I peered closer into the mirror, I saw ash on my face, probably from Stan's little magic trick. And my hair was ruffled, thanks to Mabel's affectionate greet in the morning. The brush, starting to cool in my hand, glinted at me in the mirror.

It was wrong. I stole it from a nice lady. Even if she probably never used it. But then again, I stole it. It took (some) work to hide it, not to mention the emotional anxiety I had caused myself when I took it. This was the first thing I had ever shoplifted, and I was going to return it anyways. Maybe one quick moment of vanity could be allowed. My heart hammered in my chest and my mouth was sandpaper dry. Myrtle wasn't here, but I still felt guilty as I ran the brush through my hair. I didn't even look in the mirror, I was too ashamed. But my hands seemed to work by themselves, parting my hair into sections and gently untangling the knots, wiping the plaster away. The boar bristles were soft, caressing. As soon as I was done, I shoved the thing back into my hoodie, and flushed the toilet for appearances.

"Hey, sorry that took so long."

"No probl—" Mabel halted mid-sentence, and gave me a stunned look. "Um, Dorrie? What did you do?"

"What?" I gave Mabel a blank stair. The sandpaper feeling turned into a full-on drought.

"Your hair," she cooed, reaching her hands out. I snapped back from her touch out of habit.

"What's wrong with it."

"Nothing's wrong. Go look in the mirror. That's one heck of a bathroom break." She pushed me into the bathroom, and I found the space more cramped than I remembered. Mabel shuffled in beside me, and I wondered how long it was before the oxygen was all used up. I heard some scuffling noises, then the lights flicked on, blinding me. It took seconds to adjust, and I sought myself out in the mirror. When I saw what was reflected back, I was blinded, reeling once more. A feeling stretched my stomach, and I felt a black pit yawn open inside me, tearing holes in the walls that I had so carefully built long ago.

I was pretty.