Chapter Text
Dipper didn't have to open his eyes to suspect that something wasn't right. Maybe it was the rough, uncomfortable beddings he wasn't accustomed to, or perhaps the sheets not filtering enough of the cold away from his body, or the slight itchy pillow supporting his head. Whatever the reason was, it groggily stirred an uneasy feeling inside the core of his stomach, as if it was clawing away at his insides.
Of course, the young boy tried to push these feelings away and fall back asleep, but eventually, he gave up and allowed his mind to jolt itself awake. As a small yawn escaped from his mouth, Dipper slowly rubbed his eyes, stretching out his legs and arms, stiff from the few hours of sleep he had only managed to get. It only took a moment until he was completely awake, but the surroundings he woke up, left a sensation of shock inside of him. Sure, it confirmed what he had already suspected, that he didn't wake up in his bedroom, but it also created a plethora of new questions.
Out of habit, his eyes shifted towards the bedside drawer next to him, where a digital alarm clock rested on the top, showing two blinking red dots in the middle, surrounded by the black canvas display. Dipper figured the electricity must have short-circuited during the night. However, he knew it was morning, based on the small amount of light escaping the filter of the curtain, brightening up the dimly lit room.
If Dipper were completely honest with himself, he would rather stay in the small confines of the blanket prison that provided him with little comfort. It was a lot safer than whatever was hidden in this room that was unknown to him. In his mind, he desperately wanted to believe that this was just some crazy bad dream that’ll end with Mabel waking him up. But this felt too real to be one, and the nagging feeling of insecurity that plagued his mind kept him from believing it wasn't. He didn't even know where the heck he was for starters. And for the first time this morning, his heart skipped a beat.
Despite the crippling anxiety he was experiencing throughout his body, he knew he needed to shake it off and think logically. He took a couple of deep breaths before he assessed his options. First off, he needed to think of some reason why he was here in the first place. He was confident that this wasn't some crazy dream sequence thought up by Bill; he was dead for starters, and he would've made Dipper wake up to something less welcoming. He also was sure that he didn't point a memory-erasing gun to his head; that was broken.
Pushing his theories aside, Dipper’s next thought was to search the vicinity of the area, for any clues that could explain where he was. For starters, from where he was sitting in his bed, anybody could tell that he was inside some dingy motel room, surrounded by semi-stained cream white walls. If he also turned his head, he could also see a bed next to him. Dipper wasn't an expert in mattresses, but he could tell that it was the same size, colour and model. Well, anybody could've guessed that. What was Dipper’s main concern about the other bed, was that he was pretty sure someone was occupying it.
Slowly getting up from his bed, Dipper walked around the room, scanning the cream white walls for any inconsistencies that might reveal secret compartments or contraptions. Unfortunately, he only saw mundane normal things that weren't out of place for a motel, though it was bare-bones. There were two doors; one that led outside and another that led to the bathroom. He checked himself in the mirror, as well as the rest of the bathroom, and found nothing unusual. In fact, the only place of note was the table situated near the wall, where a couple of miscellaneous items were gathered. Dipper could only recognise one of them straight away, the blue and white hat he had worn throughout his time in Gravity Falls. The rest were unknown to him.
Dipper looked up and eyed the table more carefully. He noticed it was absolutely littered with loose and messy paperwork; the only thing stopping them from scattering from the top of the surface is a brown leather wallet. Underneath it, sitting on the rugged carpet floor below was a worn-out hazel handbag, with a feminine feel to it. Dipper leaned in and stared at the object in question, and delicately held it wondering what secrets lied inside it, but was interrupted by a small yelp before he could've opened it.
He was caught by surprise by the sound behind him and almost dropped the bag out of his hands. Dipper turned his head around slowly to the source of the noise, finding nothing but the two beds. However, from his view, it was clear now that the other bed was occupied by another person. He intensely stared at the figure before he sighed in relief, watching they were still asleep. His body tensed for a second; he had forgotten entirely about that. While cautiously trying to not wake the individual next to him, he gently placed the bag back and walked closer to the bed.
From what he could tell, it was a girl, about his age, that was sleeping beside him. She had short, messy hair, coloured in an orange hue, subtly darkening towards the tips of her hair. At the middle of her forehead, was a noticeable strand of hair sticking out, curled in a C-shape. However, what surprised him the most was a five-digit number tattooed on the side of her neck in black ink. A part of him wanted to wake her up, but another urged him to not take the risk and start digging for more dirt quietly. Dipper weighed his options and choose the latter option, taking small footsteps away from her as he walked back to the other side of the room.
Sitting down on the single chair next to the table, Dipper started to read the contents of the filed papers that lied in front of him. As each word went inside his head, the realisation started slowly setting in on a new theory, one he did not want to accept. In this world, he was a private investigator, who has solved many cases ranging from acts of homicides to more explicit crimes that his innocent mind refused to comprehend in graphic detail. What was disturbing about this was the suspects he had allegedly caught were all people he knew from his home-town in Piedmont, California. It sent chills down his spine.
Turning the page over, he looked at another file displaying information about a girl, who looked exactly like the kid sleeping behind him. The only difference was she was wearing a red scarf, which covered the markings on her neck. He started reading the file on her, learning her name, birth date, and the cases she had worked on, which was almost parallel to the ones Dipper has read earlier. From the limited amount he was given, this girl named ‘Emma’ was always working as a partner alongside him. It took a while for him to process all of this, but Dipper wasn't exactly happy with this, questioning the validity.
Dipper continued to skim through each of the files but stopped when a file stuck out to him, labelled as ‘UNSOLVED’ on the front in big red ink. Beneath the bolded letters, he saw it surrounding the mysterious disappearance of two children, their photos glued on the bottom of the cover. One of the kids looked awfully familiar to him, her braces in her smile stood out from the other features in the photograph. That was when a wave of emotions washed over him and he felt sick to his stomach. He didn't want to read it, but ever so slowly, he reluctantly turned over the front, and read each line carefully.
Dipper’s body began to shiver as the contents of the paper started to form a mental picture in his bed, detailing the case, with each word adding something new and gruesome to it. His heartbeat increased gradually as the facts of the incident resonated with him on a personal level. By the time he was finished, his body was visibly shaking and he felt exhausted, as his world got flipped upside down and the denial shattered.
“No…”
At this stage, Dipper was freaking out so much that he reread the document over and over again, hoping he didn't misread anything. His attention was so focused on reviewing the report, that he didn't notice the yawning sound from across the room until a distinctly female voice broke his concentration.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
Dipper froze in place, his eyes unblinking. He couldn't be seen on the verge of tears. If he just stood still, the girl behind him wouldn't notice him. No wait that would be a-
“Hello?”
By the time Dipper realised how terrible of an idea that was, he was caught ignoring her. Wiping his face and replacing his worried expression with a forced smile, Dipper slowly turned around, trying to buy himself time to think of what to say to his ‘partner’.
“H-hi Emma,” Dipper stuttered, with a fake toughness in his voice. Swiftly, he grabbing a random document and pretending to scan the words with his finger, “I'm just reviewing this case.”
As he might as expected, she looked at him with apparent confusion. Her mouth elicited a yawn before she replied back, “What case? What’s going on?”
Dipper widened his eyes at her reaction. He needed to choose his next words carefully, “Wait, you don’t remember we were working on a case?”
“No,” the orange-haired girl said, scratching her left ear, “I don’t even know where I am? Where’s Norman and Ray? What’s happening? How do you know my name?”
The young girl started hyperventilating, which made Dipper put a hand on her shoulder. He needed to drop the tough guy façade.
“Whoa, calm down!” Dipper said in a more soothing voice. Besides, he couldn't keep up the act forever, “I'm just as lost as you are. What’s the last thing you remember before you woke up here?”
Her green eyes began darting around the room before they stopped, looking straight at him. “You… might not believe me,” she replied, dejectedly, her eyes downcast.
Dipper had a feeling her story was going to be long. He looked back at her and spoke. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”
The two of them sat on the edge of the bed, before she started to talk. Dipper listened intently to her story, paying attention to the intricate details of her story. And as much as it killed him inside, he didn't try to interrupt her, or ask questions. Instead, he just nodded to every second sentence she spoke out from her mouth.
Her name was Emma, he figured, but she wasn't the private detective that the files told him she would be. In fact, her story was a lot worse than it had any right to be. To find out that her whole life was spent in a fake orphanage just to be raised as food for demons, would've been traumatising for her. Even though she said she escaped safely with her friends, Dipper kind of admired her efforts to pull off that escape considering just how many obstacles in her way.
“So yeah,” she finished, “And after I fell asleep, I woke up here.”
Emma’s brow furrowed, as she looked back at Dipper, “And you’re not from here as well?”
He muttered a simple no from under his breath.
“So,” Emma looked at him, “What’s your story?”