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.

Then, in a snap, it all came back.

Dipper ran. He had been standing between Pacifica and the bunker; he ran away from both of them. All he had to do was run away from the bunker. He had to draw Pacifica away from Mabel and Ford. She wouldn't hurt him — he hoped — and if he could just keep her away from Mabel—

He only made it a couple yards before his muscles locked up. Not in fear, this time. With a feeling of dread, Dipper looked at the aura of purple that now surrounded his body.

Pacifica had him.

"Why do you run from me, darling?" Her soft, lilting voice came from behind him.

Dipper didn't know how to respond, but he felt his flirting instincts taking over. Maybe. . . maybe he could charm Pacifica into letting him go? Or at least into leaving his family alone. "To see if you would chase me," he replied.

He winced internally. Not his best line. What did that even mean? Apparently he couldn't flirt well under stress.

Yet Pacifica giggled. "Oh, Dipper dear, you have such a silver tongue." As she said it, she came up beside him. "You do look terribly uncomfortable, frozen midstride like that."

"I'm fine," Dipper said, despite his extreme discomfort. "Standing like this is all the rage these days."

Pacifica giggled again. The purple glow around Dipper disappeared, and he fell to the ground. He dropped his flashlight, and his outstretched hands barely caught him from face-planting into the snow. He dragged a finger through the snow before scrambling to his feet, rubbing his freezing hands on his shorts. He wanted to run again; but before he could even start, the aura was back, pinning him into place.

"Better?" Pacifica asked. He was standing normally now, and it was considerably easier on his muscles. Before he could reply, Pacifica continued, "I've been looking for you all over. I'd been hoping. . . that you'd come looking for me." She stepped closer to him.

"I knew where you were." The words were out before Dipper had processed them. Gah! This whole speak-before-you-think habit of his was not going to help him.

Pacifica frowned slightly, but it quickly turned back to a smile. "Oh, of course you did," she said, her voice pitying. "You wanted to come to me, didn't you? But your family held you down in that bunker."

She knew about the bunker! "I—"

"I should have known they would trap you here." She leaned in closer. "Have they hurt you, my darling?"

Dipper couldn't help but stare at her. That's honestly what she thought? How could she be so. . . removed from reality?

And what did he say to that? He wanted to say no, absolutely not: He never wanted to be with her, and his family would never hurt him. But they weren't that far from the bunker; he should keep up his flirtatious façade long enough to lure her away. Should he agree? Claim that he did want to go to Pacifica?

He couldn't.

He couldn't lie. He couldn't form his mouth around words that would condemn his family.

He dropped the act and looked at Pacifica with hard eyes. "No. No, Pacifica, I stayed with them because I wanted to. I love them, and they love me."

Maybe that last part was a bit much. The look that flashed through Pacifica's eyes could only be described as murderous. If he wasn't frozen in place, Dipper would've shied back.

The look was gone as soon as it had come. Pacifica's face twisted itself back into one of extreme pity. "Oh, you poor dear," Pacifica said. "Mabel really does have you under her spell."

Now Dipper was the one feeling murderous. "My sister has never done anything to hurt anyone!" he snapped. Since Pacifica knew about the bunker anyway, he could try yelling and alerting Mabel and Ford. "You're the psycho that tries to put people under spells! So just leave me and my family alone!"

"Shh." Pacifica put a finger to his lips, and he couldn't slap it away. "We'll go back to the Mystery Museum, where you'll see what she's done to you. I'll keep you safe, now."

"You're kidnapping me?" Dipper screeched as loud as he could. Wake up, Mabel, he pled. Ford, wake up!

But they were underground, where even the whistling of the wind couldn't reach them.

"No, no, that's such a horrible word," said Pacifica. "I'm freeing you, Dipper dear. You'll thank me later."

Dipper struggled against the power that held him bound, but he couldn't move an inch. He felt himself lift into the air. Pacifica looked up at him with what might have been a caring smile, had it not been warped by her insanity. Then she started walking, and Dipper drifted above her.

Dipper couldn't escape. He couldn't move. He couldn't even scream or talk anymore; Pacifica's magic had silenced him. All he could do was watch as he was towed along with Pacifica like a human-shaped balloon, leaving the sunrise behind.

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