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It all started with a letter.
Together with their families, Wendy Blurble Corduroy and Robert Stacey Valentino invite you to celebrate their marriage-
Ten years had significantly dampened any residual feelings Dipper had for Wendy, but nostalgia still managed to sink its teeth in and tug. Wendy as a bride? Robbie in something other than his ratty hoodie?
Gravity Falls?
Dipper looked over the invitation again, and put it firmly in the overflowing ‘to do’ pile on his desk. Then promptly picked it up again, read it again, and copied the date and time into his phone calendar and paper desk calendar. Ten years. Ten years suddenly felt like half an eternity. A whole decade. Enough time that Mabel was off studying fashion in Japan, he was studying ancient history in Massachusetts, and Wendy was getting married. And married to Robbie, at that.
As if on cue, his phone pinged.
‘Hey Bro-bro, did you get the mail today? Wendy and Robbie’s wedding invitation just came! I’ve already asked Grunkle Stan if we can stay in the Mystery Shack and he said its fine so long as-‘
Right. Gravity Falls.
With a sigh, he clicked off his tab of hieroglyphs and googled interstate flights.
The drive through Gravity Falls was odd, to say the least. Ten years was long enough for properties to change owners, but the endless colonisation of high street property by corporations had most failed – the lone Starbucks awkwardly sat in the middle of the high street, like a giant hand had plucked it straight out of California and dumped it down at random. People went about their business as usual, milling and chatting and shopping. Besides everyone being a decade older, it was as if the people hadn’t changed at all.
Dipper wondered just how many of them would recognise him now.
The landscape between the main part of town and the Mystery Shack was exactly as he remembered it. Forest stretched for miles in every direction, the road tenuously connecting the jaunty building of the Shack to the town proper.
Even with the windows rolled up, the smell of ozone got noticeably stronger.
The last time he’d seen these roads was the trip out to the bus stop at the end of summer. The ghost of the sadness of parting crowded the car with its uncomfortable presence. Due to parental intervention, neither of the Pine twins had returned to Gravity Falls since their thirteenth birthday – there had always been another vacation to go on, or summer camp, or more recently, research trips to other universities. In retrospect it was pretty obvious why when they came home raving about the supernatural and their various near-death experiences, Dipper and Mabel’s parents had been much less enthusiastic about entrusting them to their beloved Grunkle again.
The damage had been done, however, and Dipper’s curiosity and taste for danger had remained. Mabel’s eccentricities had grown more pronounced. She’d ended up working in fashion design in Japan, of all places. Dipper smiled. It would be good to see her again.
High school had been weird, but they managed. Their odd twin symbiosis had tailed off, but they were still close – or at least, as close as they could be pursuing their dreams on opposite sides of the Pacific Ocean. If Mabel’s personalised sweaters came in the mail less frequently, it was because she was busy, and if Dipper didn’t write extensive postcards on the ancient literature surrounding some obscure island civilisation, it was because he was busy, too.
Or at least, Dipper told himself that. All the sweaters were still hung up in his closet, unworn.
At last, the Mystery Shack came into view. It was more polished than Dipper remembered, with the roof patched up and the totem pole repainted. He vaguely recalled something about Soos taking a more active role in the running of the shack – likely some kind of tax fiddle on the part of Grunkle Stan – around the same time he’d married Melody. God, it was like everyone was getting married these days.
Dipper parked out front, grabbed his suitcase from the trunk, and was promptly tackle-hugged by his sister.
“Broski! You finally made it!” Mabel squealed with delight. “I was starting to worry you’d got lost in the forest or eaten by a werewolf or something,”
“Just traffic, I guess,” he replied. “I thought I’d texted you,”
“Nope!” her arms tightened around him crushingly for a second, before she stepped back. A flash of guilt ran through Dipper – if there was anywhere he was going to get eaten alive, it was here, and they both knew it. “You’ve got to come in and meet the baby!”
“Baby? Wha-“ he said, cut off as Mabel plastered herself to his arm and began pulling him towards the door into the gift shop. Damn, he’d forgotten how strong she was. Must be all that sushi, he thought to himself, secretly enjoying the closeness.
The baby, it turned out, was Soos and Melody’s first child, and she woke up and began screaming the second Dipper stepped through the door. Melody smiled apologetically and left to calm her down in the back room.
It really had been ten years.
“Ah. That baby.” Dipper said and immediately regretted his words. The brief comfort of being around Mabel began to drain; vague familiarity from social media wasn’t enough and he’d been out of all pretty much everyone’s life for way too long. What was Wendy thinking, inviting him to this wedding? Too many old memories and half-forgotten friendships. This was a recipe for disaster.
“Isn’t she a sweetie?” Mabel enthused.
“That’s our Rosita. We don’t normally bring her here but Tammy couldn’t work today and-“ Soos began. His gaze drifted to the door Melody left through, something warm and proud in them. “I, ah, better go see if there’s anything they need. I’m pretty new to this whole dad thing,”
He bustled out of the room, leaving Mabel and Dipper alone again. Silence hung between them and the tourist tat, the stock virtually unchanged since their first and only summer there. Rosita’s gradually quieting screams did nothing to soothe Dipper’s anxiety.
“She has a great lung capacity?” he tried, resulting in Mabel bursting out laughing and slapping him none too gently on the back. He couldn’t help but smile back.
“Don’t say that around Grunkle Stan or he’ll try and make her into an exhibit,” Dipper actually snorted in response to that. “Anyway, did you really just bring the one suitcase? You did remember to pack a suit for the ceremony, right, Dip-dip?”
“Of course I did,” he replied. Probably. “And no, I didn’t bring a million books with me and I did remember to pack underwear,”
“That’s a relief, or you’d have to borrow mine!” Mabel giggled, a mischievous, knowing gleam coming into her eye. Dipper’s stomach dropped; no matter how long they were separated, he’d never forget a look like that. “Don’t act like you don’t like playing dress-up-“
“Oh my god, that was one time!” he all but yelled. He was going to murder Professor Carter, his boss and the mastermind behind that particularly humiliating social media post that of course Mabel had seen.
“What’s this about Dipper dressing up as a lady?” a familiar gruff voice came from the doorway Soos and his family had disappeared through. Stanley Pines, in full Mystery Shack con-man regalia, stood not-quite-frowning at his great-niblings. Nostalgia for that summer – fast and heavy and hard and wonderful – crept into Dipper’s chest and he quickly squashed it down with a retort to his sister.
“It was for Halloween, and it’s not like you don’t wear and design way weirder things, Mabel!” with a huff, he turned back to Stan. The almost-frown had split into a smile, and he felt the corners of his own lips lift in response. “Oh, hey Grunkle Stan,”
“What kind of greeting is that? C’mere, kid,” as his great uncle’s arms embraced him, time slipped away. Stan still smelled of money, sweat and faint whiskey. He felt Mabel join the hug, but instead of the light blouse she had on, the scratch of a wool sweater brushed at his arm and the smell of her old shampoo surrounded him. The ozone and wood and fresh air of Gravity Falls enveloped Dipper, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt like he was at home.
That night, Dipper’s mindscape was awash with voluntary nostalgia. Although entering the mindscape in a dream was more taxing than regular sleep, it was worth it – reading up on every inhabitant of Gravity falls he’d known back that summer just in case, weaving threads between their stories and his so he’d remember and know what to say if they approached him.
He’d structured his personal mindscape like a palace; a la Cicero. Although it vaguely resembled the Northwest Manor, the only real big mansion he’d been in when he’d begun to construct the mind palace, the internal geography couldn’t possibly work in the physical world. Corridors stretched on for miles, separated by theme and memory and emotion and countless other factors. Of course, some of the intersected, and impossible crossroads appeared when required. From the outside it looked like the palace had many storeys, but inside it was all one floor, with no stairs and no incline. Lights burned in each window, but only rooms Dipper focused on illuminated at will.
There was likely some deep, psychological yet metaphysical meaning to all this, but that could be a focus of study for another time. For now, it was Gravity Falls.
Wendy was the obvious place to start. It was her wedding, so remembering (albeit normally – recalling and evidencing that recall too clearly was unsettling) their time together was logical.
Willing himself to the correct place (Wendy, memories) with a sudden gust of not-really-real wind and the flash of memories, Dipper’s feet touched down before a door with the word ‘Wendy’ inscribed upon it. Fittingly, Robbie’s door was right next to it. He guessed his mind had already figured that one out and sorted it.
He reached out a tentative hand. As his fingers extended before him, uncurling from the fist he hadn’t realised he’d made, colour bled into them. Wendy’s door was the colour of aged oak; rich and fine and well loved, but recently untouched. The hinge was good, solid brass, as was the handle. It squeaked as he pushed at it. Ten years ago, it would have glided open smoothly and silently.
Ten years was a long time. There were many other doors now.
With a sigh, Dipper stepped across the threshold.
Wendy working at the Mystery Shack. Wendy dating Robbie. Wendy at the fair being repeatedly hit in the head with a ball. Wendy laughing. Wendy on Robbie’s arm. Wendy in the Bunker. Wendy telling Dipper he was too young for her. Wendy chilling behind the cash register with Soos. Wendy trading hats with Dipper at the end of the summer. Wendy kicking ass during Bill Cipher’s bizarre attempt at Armageddon.
Bill…
For a second, Dipper’s focus is broken. Images of Wendy distort, gaining edges they’re not meant to have, taking on a golden hue as her voice crackles into-
Wendy hanging out with her friends. Wendy throwing Soos’ CD out of the car window. Wendy’s hand wreathed with blue fire-
Stepping back from Wendy’s door, Dipper sighed. This wasn’t working right. It was probably the weirdness of Gravity Falls, combined with the old-new bed and the old-new people and the old-new everything. He could work it out in the morning. Wendy still remembered him well enough to invite him to the wedding after all.
The glossy brown of the wood faded into grey, matching the rest of the corridor.
For comparison, he teleported to Mabel’s door.
Mabel tugging his hair, resulting in a sharp squeak and tears from him and a time-out for her. Mabel drawing rainbows and stars on everything in elementary school. Mabel in the middle school play, fuming over losing the starring role to someone else. Mabel in a different sweater every day. Mabel eating an identical lunch, perched next to him at the table. Mabel and the gnomes. Mabel and Waddles. Mabel and her impossible lotus-eater machine-
With a sigh, Dipper let the mindscape fade. He could do this tomorrow.