Chapter 117 of human Bill Cipher nearly, but not quite, going a whole chapter without angsting over being human:
Is Bill being a professional manipulator, projecting his own issues on someone else, or genuinely trying to help out a friend? spoilers: it's all three!
also, at long last: Waddles's egg hatches.
####
Ford said, "Just hand over the egg, Stanley."
"And hand out refunds to everyone in the audience? Are you nuts?" Stan asked. "We're making money hand over fist!"
Ford and Dipper had elected to come in the back door of town hall, hoping to avoid drawing too much attention and causing a panic. The back door couldn't be opened from the outside without a key; but to their fortune, Stan had been there to open the door when they knocked. To their misfortune, Stan had immediately realized they were up to something and blocked their way.
"We don't have time for this!" Dipper tucked his camera under his arm for protection and shoved his way through.
"Hey, hold on!" Stan tried to get an arm around him—and missed wildly, because he still had permanent marker covering his glasses lenses. Dipper pushed past him to the back door.
And ran right into Bill's arm instead. "Hey, kid!" Bill gripped the puffy collar of Dipper's vest, teeth gritted in an angry smile. "What's the rush?"
"Lemme go!" Dipper twisted in his grip. "We've gotta get inside before the egg hatches!"
"Oh, but you don't wanna ruin the show, do you?" He shoved Dipper back outside and took up a position next to Stan, feet spread, fists on what should have been his corners, forming an impenetrable barrier of uncooperative con artists. "You two look pretty wound up! Maybe you should take, oh, five minutes out here to calm down—"
Mabel's voice drifted out from the auditorium: "And in less than five minutes, we'll welcome a brand new baby alien to Gravity Falls!"
"We don't have time!" Ford said. "Get out of the way." He tried to shove his way past Stan and Bill.
To block him, Bill linked his arm with Stan's, which made both of them shudder with distaste and privately resolve to shower when they got home. "No," Bill said. "What the heck's gotten into you two! Why are you so determined to mess up Mabel's show?"
"We're protecting Mabel," Ford snapped back. "The thing in that egg is dangerous! Mabel and everyone else inside could get hurt!"
Bill blinked at him in amazement. "What?"
Stan tensed. After a second, he reluctantly tugged his arm from Bill's grip. "I mean... I'd rather give the stupid refunds than endanger Mabel." Thoughtfully, he said, "Or maybe we can convince the audience taking away the egg is part of the show...?"
"She's not in any danger! Where did you get that?!" Bill asked. "I can see what's in it and I can see what'll happen when it hatches! Mabel's got nothing to worry about and neither do any of you! Now relax."
"Is that so?" Ford crossed his arms, glaring Bill down. "Then what is it."
Bill froze, fighting a burst of panic, his gaze flashing to Dipper and back to Ford. He laughed angrily. "Oo-oo-oh, so after pitching a fit about spoilers earlier today, now you want all the answers? I thought yoo-oo-oou wanted to figure it out ALL BY YOURSELF!" His voice swung erratically between mocking singsong lilt and accusatory scream.
Dipper shouted, "Bill, this isn't the time!" and overlapping him Ford said, "This is different and you know it! Don't be petty!"
Who was being petty! He was just trying not to get in trouble! Now they were cranky he wouldn't talk, but he was sure they'd be just as cranky if he did. There was no winning this. "Does it matter what's in it?! The important thing is that it's harmless, and if you think I'm lying about that then you'd think I'm lying if I told you what it is, too! Either way, you'll just have to trust me!"
That got a laugh out of both the Stans. Which was far from the first time; but he was beginning to get tired of them treating his every attempt to ask for a little faith in him like it was a big joke. Like he couldn't possibly truly want somebody to believe him.
"Why should I trust you," Ford said.
Bill struggled to think of anything he could offer that couldn't be called another lie. He came up blank. "Please?"
"No." Ford pushed past Bill; this time, Stan stood aside to let him. Betrayer.
Bill desperately grabbed onto Ford's sleeve. Before he could shake him off, Bill said, "I don't know what you heard about that egg or what you think you'll do about it, but if you two idiots barge in there, you're barreling right into a future that ends with Mabel in tears, and I'm not letting you do that to her!" Finally the perfect argument clicked into place: "If it was dangerous, do you really think I'd leave Mabel alone with it?!"
They both knew Ford wouldn't trust a single word out of Bill's mouth—nobody did—but Ford himself had said he'd only let Bill live because he now had a sliver of hope for him, because of how he treated Mabel. If it made such a big difference, was it enough to sway Ford now?
It was. Ford stopped trying to pull away from Bill's grasp. He glanced back at him, uncertain, searching his face.
"If you don't trust anything else," Bill pressed, "can you at least trust that?"
Ford exchanged a glance with Stan, silently discussing the question.
Dipper said, "Well, I can't."
Bill had been too focused on Ford. He hadn't been watching what was happening just a few seconds in the future, a few inches to the side. He only glanced over in time to get a half second preview of Dipper bolting past the rest of them to the door. It didn't give Bill enough advanced warning to intercept him, only enough to let him slip inside before the door could fully swing shut behind Dipper.
But it was more advanced warning than the Stans had. The heavy emergency exit door slammed in their faces. Stan barked, "Hey!" They pounded on the door. Ford shouted, "Dipper! Bill! Let us in!"
Bill helplessly studied the impenetrable slab of door-ness. "How?!"
Stan muttered a curse under his breath, then shouted, "Never mind, just get Dipper!"
"We'll come in from the front!"
Fine. Bill chased after Dipper. "Get back here!"
"Screw you!"
"Ford wants you to!"
"Mabel's more important!"
"It's a flying pig!"
Dipper skidded to a stop. He wheeled around to stare at Bill in disbelief. "Are you fu—"
Bill bodyslammed into Dipper, knocking them both to the ground.
"Bill! Geddoff—"
"Knock it off! Your sister's been working hard on this all day! You're not ruining another thing for her with your selfishness!"
"Selfishness?!" Dipper protectively clutched his camera in one arm and tried to stick his other hand in Bill's eye to force him off, but had to jerk back when Bill nearly snapped his fingers between his teeth. "What are you talking about! When have I ever—"
"Hmm! Let me think," Bill grunted, the sarcasm in his tone somewhat undermined by the strain of trying to keep Dipper's limbs pinned. "How about all those times you thought spending slightly more time with Red was more important than letting Mabel meet the pig that'll be her best friend for the next decade of her life, or helping a scared, stranded kid get back to his mermaid family! Because your hopeless crush mattered more than other people's lives, right?"
"This isn't about a crush!" With one arm protectively clutching his camera to his chest, Dipper wriggled out of Bill's grasp.
Before he could scramble back to his feet, Bill wrapped his arms around Dipper's legs to hold him down. "No, it's about you!" How was this stupid kid so slippery! Sure, he was sweaty, but his leg hairs were finally coming in, that was supposed to increase the friction! "Just like the time you decided 'solving the town's mysteries' was so important you'd do anything to get the next clue right now—even ruin your sister's show!"
"Shut the hell up!"
"Ooh, big boy language."
"You don't even believe anything you're saying yourself! You're just saying whatever you think will make me do what you want!" Dipper kicked one leg free. "And you're the one who ruined her show last time!"
Bill dug his nails in his other leg. "Yeah! And now I'm trying to save her show! Can you say that?!"
"I'm trying to save her!" Dipper punctuated the sentence with a kick to Bill's chin.
He briefly saw stars; when they cleared up, Dipper was already on his feet and running again. Bill snarled, "And that's why you've got your camera, right?!"
Dipper skidded to a stop, staring at his camera like he'd never seen it before. (The camera that had made him delay leaving the shack for a couple more minutes, just so he could grab more film.)
"Planning to bludgeon the egg to pieces with that thing, kid?" Bill tried to get to his feet, and his head swam. Ow. Back on one knee. "This isn't about protecting Mabel, this is about your hero complex. You just want to make another stupid little episode for your stupid little unsuccessful vlog!" This time, he managed to stand. "You want to charge in there and be the biiig hero, save the whooole town from the dangerous beast and get it all on camera!"
And Dipper hadn't moved yet. That was the thing about saying whatever you think will make someone do what you want—if you say enough things, eventually you'll hit on the one that does get what you want. Like pounding the buttons on a game controller until you finally guessed the cheat code to unlock extra lives. Then all you have to do is keep spamming that combo— "But what'll that do to her. Here she is in the middle of a live performance—she did the script and costumes and everything! All in one day! You should've seen what a whirlwind she was!—and in charges her brother." He stalked up behind Dipper, seized his shoulder, and spun him to face Bill. "Who just has to prove he's the smart twin again—even if it means stealing her turn in the spotlight."
He could feel the cruel sneer twisting his face's muscles, feel the hate in his eyes, and he didn't care. He'd won this round and they both knew it. "Because this summer, she's the one who found a new source of secret knowledge about all the town's mysteries," he pointed at himself, "and you. can't. stand. that."
Bill had won this round, but apparently Dipper hadn't actually gotten the memo. His expression darkened. "I want to see Mabel succeed. I'm not jealous of her! Especially not her creepy friendship with you."
"Creepy?! Hey, I've been an angel!" Bill tried to get his hands around Dipper's neck—Mabel would understand if he strangled her brother, it was just to help her—but Dipper knocked his arms aside like they had the strength of pool noodles, seized Bill by the collar, somehow hooked a foot behind his ankle, and suddenly Bill was on the ground, looking at Dipper upside-down through a doorway. He'd knocked Bill into the meeting room they'd been using for backstage prep. "Hey, wait—!"
Dipper slammed the door shut between them.
"You little—!" Bill threw his full weight against the door—which, of course, did nothing. He pounded on the wood with both fists. "Get back here! You're making a mistake!"
Dipper didn't even slow down. All Bill could do was watch through the wood as he burst into the auditorium.
####
Mabel kept nervously glancing at the back of the auditorium. Bill had said he'd be here to signal her when the egg was ready to hatch, but he'd disappeared right after her performance started and hadn't been back since. What was taking him so long? Did something happen?
Or maybe she had been silly to take Bill Cipher at his word in the first place.
(She tried to push that thought aside. Bill was her friend, she didn't want to believe he'd treat her like that. Even if he treated his other friends like that... No. She'd find out what happened before passing judgment.)
But either way, he wasn't here and she was getting nervous. She was trying to keep track of when Bill had originally said the egg was supposed to hatch, watching the clock at the back of the auditorium, but she kept worrying she might have forgotten exactly when he'd said it was. She hadn't thought to write the time down on the sweaty script she'd stuffed in her pocket. She kept worrying she was talking too fast, and then she worried that she'd compensated by talking too slow, and usually she wasn't this nervous on stage but she hated when she had to give timed presentations, those were like the worst kinds of presentations ever, and after last summer's sock-tastrophe if she blew this performance too she'd never work in showbiz in this town again—
She was concluding the epic tale of how Waddles had survived the harsh deserts of Australia with the help of a mob of kangaroos and then rafted all the way across the Pacific Ocean to reach Oregon in time for the egg to land—when the heavy door "backstage" swung open and crashed into the wall so hard it sounded like one of those giant log thingies they used to break down castle doors in movies. Dipper barreled into the room, shouting, "STOP!"
Mabel froze mid-sentence, her mouth hanging open. Every face in the auditorium turned toward Dipper. His face was hardened with a fierce determination that made Mabel's stomach flip with anxiety. What was wrong? And did it have to be wrong right now, at the end of her big speech?
As he struggled to catch his breath, his eyes darted wildly around the stage until they fell on the egg. He took a deep breath and pointed at it.
And then he saw Mabel and his breath gushed back out. He took in her costume, and Waddles's, and the background studded with stars and planets; and then the audience (now staring expectantly at him instead of Mabel) and the rest of the shack gang at the back with the audio setup.
His face hardened again in determination and he sucked in another deep breath—to let it back out in a loud sigh. "Whew, I didn't miss it!"
Mabel groaned. "Dipperrr..."
"Sorry, sorry." The audience tittered as Dipper took a seat in the first row. He aimed his camera at Mabel and flashed her a thumbs up.
She rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses, but gave him a thumbs up back. He'd totally thrown off her speech and now she really didn't know how much time she had left—but with her brother right in the front row supporting her, she was suddenly a lot less nervous about flubbing it. Even if she messed up so badly the whole audience hated her, he wouldn't. She picked up where she'd left off, with two magic peacocks with rainbows trailing behind them finding Waddles half dead on his raft and helpfully pushing it the rest of the way to Oregon's shores. (A few tourists were dabbing at their eyes.)
Stan and Ford rushed in from Town Hall's front doors, albeit a lot more quietly than Dipper. Ford looked around frantically, saw Dipper giving him a small shy wave from the front row, and relaxed. The whole family was here to watch her big conclusion. She couldn't fail now!
"...and when he touched the force field with his cute little piggy snout, the meteor exploded into a million zillion tiny little sparkly pieces—" Mabel flung two handfuls of glitter out from her concealed pockets (suddenly Dipper looked less thrilled about being on the front row), "—and Waddles finally met... the egg."
Doing an admirable job of not laughing into her mic, Wendy dutifully whispered, "The eeegg..."
Mabel had a whole bit planned about how Waddles swore to guard the egg with his life until the stars aligned on its home world and it finally hatched; but the egg, which had been periodically trembling and making little cracking sounds for the past hour, chose that moment to shake so violently it almost fell of the pillow. A crack arced halfway around its circumference; and then another, a small chip falling away where they intersected. Mabel gasped and said all in a rush, "And that concludes the tale of the pig of destiny and his egg now let's watch as he meets his fated child ta-daaa!"
The audience sat on the edges of their seats, waiting to see what finally emerged from the egg. In the back, the shack gang abandoned their posts, standing and craning their necks so they could see too.
Mabel and Waddles watched the egg with wide eyes as another chip fell loose, then another. At last, the egg gave one last big wiggle and burst apart—
Mabel let out a shriek. "OH-EM-GEEEE it's so CUUUTE!" She reached out to scoop up the little piglet with fluffy golden wings, and only just caught herself in time to let Waddles greet it first. He sniffed it, snorted on it—it squinted its eyes and its feathers fluttered in the breeze—then nuzzled his cheek against it.
The audience members close enough to get a good look at the piglet cooed in appreciation. Dipper nearly fell out of his seat leaning closer to film. At the back of the auditorium, Ford barked, "What!"
Soos hit the piano key for a triumphant trumpet fanfare.
The audience applauded.
####
"It's obviously a hoax," one tourist said to another as they filed out of the auditorium. "I mean, come on—a flying pig? I'll believe those are real when pigs fly."
"I don't know," the other said thoughtfully. "The bit about the kangaroos was probably made up, but those wings did look awfully convincing..."
"It was very well done," the first tourist conceded. "The costumes were fantastic. Did you see those rainbow capes?"
"And that story was so fun."
Somebody behind them shouted, "Holy smokes, is that really a pigasus?!" They glanced back at a gray-haired man in a tan coat who was bending over the piglet with a look of absolute wonder. The first tourist muttered, "Some people will believe anything."
Ford went on, "I've only heard tales about these creatures! I didn't think I'd live to see one! Dipper, Dipper, you're filming right? Wow! This is the greatest thing I've ever seen!"
"It's alright. Kinda wrinkly," Stan said. "I think." (He'd taken off his markered glasses and was squinting at the piglet.) "I bet it'll make the shack a fortune, though. Hey Soos, you got room for another pet?"
"We can make room," Soos said. "A couple more weird critters, and maybe we can start a cryptid petting zoo!"
"Grunkle Stan, you can't put Waddles's baby in the Mystery Shack," Mabel said. "That's child labor!"
Offended, Stan said, "What are you talking about?" He put one arm around Soos's and Wendy's shoulders, scooped Dipper and Mabel into a hug with the other, and said, "The Mystery Shack was built on a long and proud tradition of child labor. Sometimes unpaid!"
Wendy shook off Stan's arm. "Hey, Mabel! Nice work on the show."
"Yeah, it was totally awesome," Soos said. "I had no idea Waddles lives such an adventurous life. I have a newfound respect for him."
"Thanks, guys. I kinda messed up the ending a little, though." Mabel's beam of pride melted away. "B—Goldie said he'd signal me when it was almost time for the egg to hatch, but he completely disappeared! What's with that?"
Dipper gasped. "Oops."
####
When Dipper opened the meeting room door, Bill was leaning against the door frame with one hand, already positioned perfectly to glare down at him. "We've got to stop meeting like this." He shoved past him.
"Ow. You're welcome," Dipper muttered.
"Oh! Where are my manners! Thank you for locking me up so you could enjoy Shooting Star's grand finale!" Bill shot Dipper a dirty, bloody look. "But why let the person who convinced you not to ruin it for her see?"
All right, he supposed he deserved that one. "What happened to your eye?" Bill's right eye was tinged pink with blood. It pooled along his waterline, only a couple of drops just beginning to roll down his cheek.
Bill grunted in annoyance, swiped away the blood tears, and irritably flipped down his eye patch to obscure the view. "Only way I could watch the show," he muttered. (Dipper hadn't exactly felt bad earlier—yeah, sure, he realized he was in the wrong, but that was different from feeling bad—but knowing Bill had made his eyeball bleed just because he wanted to see the show...)
By the time they emerged in the auditorium Bill had remembered how to slap on a fake smile. "Hey, star girl! What a performance! Looks like the audience liked it, too!" He studied the piglet. "And you... you were fine. Don't expect a 'supporting actress' trophy, though."
"Bill! Where..." Mabel stopped. "She's a girl pig?" She knelt to study its face.
"Sure! She's got girl guts!" Bill said cheerily. "And she probably doesn't have an opinion of her own on the matter yet."
Mabel nodded thoughtfully; and then remembered her earlier resentment. "Hey, you missed the whole show. Where were you?"
"Watching from backstage!"
She put on an exaggerated pout and planted her hands on her hips in a performance of faux hurt feelings, to cover the fact that her feelings actually were hurt. "You said you'd tell me when the egg was about to hatch."
Bill's grin only flickered for a second before he plastered it back in place. "Yeah, well, you know me. Notoriously unreliable."
Then Tyler waved from across the room and Bill immediately headed his way, cutting the conversation off. Mabel's shoulders slumped.
Dipper didn't get it. Why did Bill do that? This wasn't the first time he'd let Mabel believe something wrong about him that made him look even worse than he really was. He was more than happy to lie to make himself look better—why wouldn't he jump all over an opportunity to make himself look better when it was actually true?
####
"We had such a great turnout," Tyler gushed. "And on such short notice! I'll admit, I was a little worried when you wanted to schedule an event on the day of, but wow!" He cast a fond eye toward the piglet, flopped on her silver pillow and surrounded by an admiring crowd, like a napping princess flanked by her royal guard. "And what a cute little thing, too."
"Hey, that's what I'm good at! I'm a logistics guy! You want a project done, I'm the one who knows how to get the right people and the right stuff where and when they're supposed to be. Especially if the 'project' is a party. Wink."
Tyler giggled. "Is that so! Well, the next time we need a party planner, I'll keep you in mind."
"That's all I want! To be in people's minds!" Bill flashed him a finger gun; and let his hand and smile drop as he turned away. Ugh. He couldn't even enjoy this after the screw up at the end of the show.
Apparently Ford had gotten a little overeager in studying his newest favorite creature, because Waddles squealed in alarm and Mabel shooed him away. Bill muttered, "Oh, great." Ford and Stan were headed up the aisle toward Bill.
As soon as they were in conversation range and before Ford could start scolding Bill again for [explaining too much/not explaining enough], Bill said, "Hey. I blame both of you for making me miss the end, by the way." Ford couldn't attack if he was already on the defense.
Stan said, "Okay, I can get blaming Poindexter, but what did I do?"
"Backstabbed me at the last second and let the twerp get past our barrier."
"Dipper taped the ending," Ford said. "You can watch it with me when we get home."
Bill's next round of complaints derailed and gently rolled downhill to crash into a shallow river. "What?"
Ford wasn't even looking at him. He was writing away in his journal (it had been weeks since he'd let Bill get a glimpse of Journal 5), no doubt documenting as much about the day as he could while it was fresh on his mind. "I know I just saw it, but I want to see it again!" He finally glanced up, eyes shining, wearing a beaming smile that stretched all the way across his face. (He had so many teeth. Bill involuntarily swallowed. He could hear the squelching sound of saliva and contracting throat muscles in his ears.) "Dipper was closer to the stage! I want to see all the details I missed the first time!"
For a moment, he'd thought Ford was actually inviting him to watch TV together. What a silly thought! Clearly he was just nerding out toward anyone in a ten foot radius and hadn't even consciously realized he'd included Bill in his excitement. Best to take advantage of it before Ford noticed. "Okay! Movie night! It's a date!"
"Mm-hmm." His head was already back in his journal.
Stan shot Bill a disapproving frown. Bill muttered to him, as if he was a co-conspirator in the joke, "Look at him. He didn't even notice what I said." Stan snorted.
"There!" Ford finished off whatever he'd been writing with a flourish of his pen—probably a riveting diary entry on everything he'd done today and how it made him feel about himself—and said giddily, "I'm gonna get a closer look." He hurried up toward the group clustered around the stage, moving like a man with half his years and cynicism.
Bill asked, "Do you think he's already forgotten Mabel chased him off?"
"Probably." Stan sighed. "I'd better go get him."
"Aww, don't spoil his fun too much!" This evening might've been a disaster for Bill—but at least one of them had had fun tonight.
####
Tyler was sticking around so he could lock up town hall once everyone was out, but it was up to the Mystery Shack crew to clean up their own mess. Bill was trying to figure out which direction the stupid legs on Soos's stupid electric piano were supposed to fold up—and getting increasingly frustrated in the process—(they only bent back and forth in one direction, how hard could this be?!)—when Dipper hesitantly crept up to him. "Hey," he said, awkwardly rubbing his arm.
Bill gave him his best don't test me right now glare.
Oblivious to the subtle nuances of glares, Dipper said, "Uh... sorry for making you miss the show, man."
"Well you should be," Bill snarled, "since you're the reason I didn't get to see it." Dipper opened his mouth; Bill didn't give him a chance to retort. "And none of it would have happened if it wasn't for your stupid, stubborn little quest to be the most special, smart little boy in the whole wide world—"
"Whoa, hey! I'm trying to apologize, man," Dipper said. "What's your problem? So I'm trying to get a career going, so what, what's wrong with that!"
"When's it gonna be enough, kid?"
Dipper struggled for a second to decipher the question. "What?"
"When will you achieve enough? When'll you feel like you finally succeeded at cryptid cataloguing and won at life?"
"I—I don't know?" he said defensively. "I haven't even really gotten started."
"Exactly. You haven't even started! So quit before you've wasted your whole pathetic life on this." Bill jammed a finger against Dipper's camera. (He stepped back to shield it protectively.) "It's not too late for you to be just one more forgettable, mediocre guy out of billions!"
"No! Maybe you want me to be mediocre, but why would I want that?"
"Why would you want to be special," Bill sneered. "Wanna see what happens to the 'special' one in the class?" He pointed toward Ford. "Right there! Your hero! Dr. Supergenius Six-Fingers has been special his whole life! Always the freak with a spotlight on him, whether he's placed on a pedestal or pushed in the mud! And now he doesn't have the choice to quit! He'll never be content just being 'good enough.' He can't be happy with a normal life. You can be. The smartest thing you can do for yourself is give up on being the 'smart one.'"
That confused look on Dipper's face made Bill's boil. The smart ones were always so stupid—especially about their own smarts. "Why should I be content with being 'good enough'? Why would anybody want a normal life if they knew they could have a better one—"
"Did I say a 'better' life? No. A special one. You know all about your great-uncle's life story—he's a walking cautionary tale against hubris! Does he look like he's having fun? Do I look like I am?" He jabbed a finger in Dipper's chest. "Go underachieve, kid. Flunk a test! Or drop out! You don't want to have what it takes to keep up with the winners."
Dipper shoved Bill's hand away. "You don't know anything about what I want."
"Don't I? Who's been in whose head?" If Bill left right now, he was pretty sure he could win this argument before Dipper started pulling out all the times the Pines had caught him off-guard by not wanting what he expected them to want. He shoved the keyboard case and misfolded legs under his arms and spun away from Dipper to march off triumphantly.
Dipper said, "Anyway, Grunkle Ford does look like he's having fun."
Bill glanced over again, and wished he hadn't. Ford had been corralled a safe distance away, and from the looks of it Stan had been posted as his guard so he didn't disturb the new father and his baby—but his eyes were still bright with wonder and riveted on the piglet, only glancing away in quick flickers to draw in his journal. Right now, his life was all sunshine and rainbows.
Bill's stomach did a little flip. "You know what I mean." His voice came out rougher than he expected. "Now shut up and buzz off."
Dipper must've shut up and buzzed off, although Bill didn't notice him go. Look at Ford. What a nerd. If he kept up that big, stupid grin for much longer, his face would get stuck like that—
"HEY there!"
"Gah!" Bill whipped around, dropping the piano legs. "Kid! Don't sneak up on me like that, I could've thrown a piano at you."
Mabel blew a raspberry. "I'm wearing the crinkliest dress in the world," she said, flapping her arms to demonstrate. "Anyway, this is for you! Bop!" She smacked a sticker on his chest.
He set down the piano and pulled out his hoodie to inspect his new prize. It depicted a candy-pink ear. Bubble letters surrounding it read, "You're My HEARo!" Bill's heart leaped into his throat. "Huh! Already forgiven me for bailing on you?"
"Oh, stoppit," Mabel said. "Dipper told me what really happened. Thanks for saving Choink."
Bill would have liked to add this to his list of reasons to be irritated at Dipper, but it was hard to be annoyed when he'd just heard a word like that. "Is that her name?"
"Yeah, because she makes this cheep-oink sound."
"I like it, it's weird." Almost as weird as the ear sticker. Which she'd given to him because he'd actually earned it. Not on false pretenses, either. He had actually done the task, on purpose, with the exact motivation she probably expected.
And it felt wrong, for some reason. He felt less like he deserved this sticker than the sticker he'd "earned" by manipulating and cheating and lying to Mabel's face. He felt like he was gonna get in trouble for having it. Why was that?
"You could've just told me what happened yourself," Mabel said. "I would've believed you."
He hated that that made him feel something. "Sure you would've!" He awkwardly crouched to re-collect the dismembered piano and its limbs. "Hey, you wanna help me with these?"
She took the legs and—to Bill's consternation—successfully folded them flat in three seconds. "Hey, Bill?"
He didn't like that tone. That was a serious question tone. "Yeah?" She was gonna ask why he hadn't been the one to explain what happened behind stage, and he didn't have a good answer.
"Why didn't you see my warning about Weirdmageddon?" Mabel asked.
His stomach dropped. He'd already prepared a witty quip about Mabel being busy keeping the paparazzi off Choink and now he had to start over finding a quip. "What?"
"Dipper said you saw Grunkle Ford and him messing up the show; so, you must've been looking at the future to see how it went," Mabel said. "But you said you didn't see my warning. Right?"
"Oh." His stomach sank. "Well—I had to keep an eye on the future so I could cue you exactly when the egg was gonna hatch. At Weirdmageddon, I was living in the moment!"
"You didn't look at the future once?" Mabel asked skeptically.
"Nope!"
"Not even to make sure that nothing went wrong?"
"Nuh-uh!"
"Why not?"
"Be—cause... I didn't want to know what happened next."
It took him too long to think of something else to add. Something to cancel out the dread he was sure he heard in his own reply. "I mean," he said, "I've waited this long to throw my eternal party. Wouldn't it be boring to get there and already know everything that'll happening?"
"I guess," Mabel said. "But you looked at the future of my show."
"Sure, but—I already knew how this show ends. You've got the script in your pocket," Bill said defensively. "That's not like a party. Parties get wild."
"Do you think there's maybe a timeline where you did?" she asked. "And maybe everything turned out okay there?"
She hadn't been trying to question his logic; she was just trying to find a way for her little warn-the-past trick to work out. "Oh—oh, yeah! Sure!" He smiled brightly. "There's more timelines than you can count out there! Everything can happen! There's bound to be a few where I saw your note and... What's that look for? What, don't you believe me?" She shouldn't. He was definitely lying.
"I don't know," she sighed, "I guess, I just—I feel bad that you saved my show but I can't save you from getting stuck in this body. I know it feels gross to you. Like a wetsuit full of applesauce and melted cheese."
Bill mentally saved that idea for the next time he needed to torture an enemy. "Hey, you already saved my life once this summer! I think we're even!" He rapped a knuckle on her noggin, "Anyway, remember the power of positive thinking! You're a problem solver! With both of us trying to figure this thing out, we'll find a way to get me out of this body, just you wait."
That finally perked her up. "Yeah! There's gotta be something that'll work."
Bill wondered if Mabel hadn't realized she'd just promised to help him return to his true, triangular, dangerous form. He wondered if she had realized, but cared about him enough that she was willing to take that risk.
He wrapped her up in a tight hug and she flinched in surprise. "Bill? What's this for?"
"Oh, I need an excuse to hug, now? It was for you being cool, but if you're not gonna be cool about it..."
"I'll be cool, I'll be cool!" She flung her arms around his neck. "I'm cool as a penguin."
"That's what I thought."
When he'd unleashed her, she asked, "Did people hug in your dimension, too?"
"Sure! Hugs are pan-universal!" They weren't, but he was sure Mabel wanted to believe in the kind of multiverse where they were.
"How? You can't cross over each other's arms in the second dimension. Did you have to take turns hugging each other?"
"Ha! No, we— Look, I'll show you." It was the least he could do for her.
####
(Least surprising thing that could possibly be in the egg. Kudos to everyone who guessed it, especially the anon who called it a pigasus, the greatest word i've ever heard.
Thanks for y'all's patience with the late chapter! I had to rewrite the last 1/3 of it because I wanted this chapter to remain focused on Dipper and Mabel; so to do that I had to move a very, very, VERY important scene... to the start of next chapter. 😎 You'll see.
In other news: next chapter is our last chapter in the present for a while! After that we're getting... another flashback plot!! This time, to Bill's first ever girlfriend: the howling void! I'm gonna be doing something a bit different this time and posting this plot on tumblr AND ao3 simultaneously, as its own separate fic. So I might be able to do weekly updates on it again! ... or, i might not, because i'm trying not to think about how many scenes i left half coherent with an "[***edit this later]" note to myself lmao.
But in the meantime: waddles! egg! choink! bill slipping up and saying too much about himself! applesauce and melted cheese! looking forward to y'all's thoughts this week.)
Ya know, it's fun that Bill acts like the problem with him and Ford was that they had dreams and not that they, ya know, both manifested a crippling inferiority complex covered up via a superiority complex that led them to isolate themselves from others. Almost as if the real problem isn't the desire to achieve, but the desire to achieve alone.
