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Fistbump 2: Unspeakable (a Pinecest story)	By : Edward_or_Ford Category: +G through L > Gravity Falls Views: 21283 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravity Falls or its characters. I will not earn any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 7
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- 9
“And you have no idea where he went?”
Mabel hugged her knees on the living room couch, trying to contain her seemingly unending supply of tears. “No, Daddy,” she sniffed.
“Well, how long ago did he leave?” her father continued, with growing insistence.
“I don’t know,” she replied miserably. And it was the truth. Mabel had no clue when Dipper had left the house, or where he had gone.
She had stayed locked in the bathroom for at least two hours after screaming at her brother through the door, crying out her frustration and anger. It kept spilling out, wave after wave. She cursed him for breaking her heart, then cursed her parents for forcing him to do what he did to her. Finally she cursed life and God that she had been allowed to fall for Dipper at all, for the unfairness and cruelty that she was forced to experience this hell. She let all her pent up emotions out, until there was none left.
With the pressure released, she sat on the floor and leaned up against the side of the bathtub. She regretfully thought about everything that had happened since she and Dipper were nearly caught by their parents on Wednesday evening, and Dipper’s subsequent determination to end their romantic relations. She’d been so furious, so full of rage, she barely recognized herself as she recalled how she’d acted for the past several days. Towards her parents, towards her friends. And particularly towards Dipper.
Mabel realized that there was one thing that was undeniable: she still loved Dipper, completely and desperately. And she had to admit to herself that Dipper’s decision was probably the safest thing for them to do. It just hurt so much to have to face that fact! And if that was true for her, and if she accepted that Dipper did in fact love her in return, then this must have been just as hard for him! And then on top of that, she’d heaped several days worth of passive-aggressive abuse on him, and finally those awful vindictive accusations earlier that morning. She couldn’t imagine how he must have been feeling.
When she was finally ready to come out, ready to face Dipper and apologize for her behavior, ready to beg for forgiveness, she found the house empty. When she called his cell phone, she heard it ring from in his room: he had left without taking it. As she picked it up, she also found his wallet and house key beside it on his dresser.
Mabel had taken all three items to the living room and put them on the coffee table in front of her, trying to figure out where Dipper had gone, and what it meant that he had left without saying anything to her or taking any necessities. The realization that she could not let him know how sorry she was, was just hitting her when her parents arrived home from church and found her huddled on the couch.
Her father continued his questioning of his distraught daughter. “Dipper wouldn’t just do this! Just leave without his keys or wallet? Let alone the phone! What on earth is going on here?” Mabel drew a ragged breath, and began sobbing quietly. “What is this issue you two are fighting over?”
Mabel’s composure fell apart, and her cries became loud and uncontrolled. Her mother wrapped her arms around her, and admonished her father. “Baby, we can’t force this conversation on her now! We have to find Dipper, and we need her!” She turned to Mabel, shushing her until she had calmed down. “Is there anything at all that you can tell us, anything that he said or anything you saw, that might tell us where he’s gone?”
She just shook her head slowly. “No. He didn’t say anything,” she whimpered. “And I didn’t see or hear him go. He could have left fifteen minutes ago … or two hours ago.” Her breath caught. “I … I don’t know!” she finished pitifully.
Her father pursed his lips in frustration, then sighed. “All right. Mabel, you’ll stay here in case he comes back. Phone the neighbors, see if any of them saw which way he went. And phone all his friends, see if he went to any of their houses.” He looked at his wife. “Honey, you and I will just have to take our cars and start driving around. I’ll go east, you go west. Stop at the libraries, the mall, the parks, stores he likes, wherever. We all keep in touch, and if he doesn’t turn up by nightfall, we call the police. Okay?” He turned and went out the door quickly, headed for his car.
Mabel’s mother paused briefly to kiss Mabel on the head. “He’ll be back here soon, Pumpkin,” she whispered. “Try not to worry. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Mama,” Mabel whispered back. Then her mother was out the door as well, leaving Mabel alone, sick with worry and overwhelmed with guilt. Shakily, she picked up the phone to start making her calls.

Dipper shifted his position on the park bench seat, as the circulation to his legs had been lost and his feet were going numb. Not as numb as he felt inside his chest, but at least he felt he could do something about his legs.
He shivered involuntarily. The wind off the water was getting chilly, and he was wearing only jeans and a t-shirt. He stared out, idly watching the latest passenger jet lining up to land at Oakland International, squinting away from the sun that was falling close to the skyline of downtown San Francisco, across the Bay. As the noise of the jet faded, the sounds of sloshing waves and calling birds once again came to the fore.
Dipper hadn’t known where he was going when he left his house hours before. He just needed to leave, away from his sister who hated him.
On automatic pilot, he had walked south out of the suburban city of Piedmont into Oakland, uncaring of destination, unaware of surroundings other than traffic lights, not wanting to stop anywhere. Nearly four hours later, the muscles in his legs had demanded he look for a place to rest. He found that he was in an industrial area, near a sign pointing to the Oyster Bay Regional Shoreline. Following the path on the edge of the former landfill site on San Francisco Bay, he had located one of the few benches in the park and wearily sat down. It had been the perfect place to sulk and wallow in dark contemplation. Few people were out in the park that afternoon to disturb him.
Why did I get my hopes up, thinking that God had the answers? he thought dismally. He didn’t help. If anything, He made it worse! I kept pushing Mabel, thinking it was the right thing to do, pushing for her to respond to me. Shit, did she ever respond!
He passed more time, kicking gravel beneath his shoes, recounting in his head for seemingly the thousandth time the cruel words Mabel had spat from behind the bathroom door. She hated him! She despised him! She told him he raped her! He never thought he would ever feel such emotions from Mabel. He felt attacked, beaten down, and tortured. It hurt so much that Mabel no longer loved him. Yes, she’d been hurt by his decision to break off the sexual side of their relationship, but they had no choice! He did it because he loved her! He still did! But she hated him. It wasn’t fair!
This was no longer the same kind of self-loathing pain he felt the week previous, he realized. This time, I didn’t do anything to deserve this! he thought to himself. I made a hard choice, and was only trying to protect our lives together, so that Mabel and I can remain together. So Mom and Dad can’t separate us. And what did she do? She pushed me away, as hard as she could! Why can’t she ever be grateful? Why is it always me suffering? Why do I always sacrifice everything for her?
Dipper allowed the resentment to fester. He’d never harbored ill will towards his sister before. Sure, they’d bickered over lots of things, like all siblings do, but she had never done anything that really hurt like this before. Thoughts of desire and memories of their lovemaking together were pushed to the back of his mind. Feeling bitterness toward Mabel was unfamiliar and uncomfortable, but as the late afternoon went on, he slowly embraced it.
The chill in his bones deepened as another gust of cool wind blew in off the water. Dipper cursed himself. Real smart, genius, he thought, staying out all day, no phone or money, no jacket. He sighed heavily. I wish I could stay out here alone. But I’m hungry and cold, and I suppose Mom and Dad might be worried about where I am, even if Mabel isn’t!
Rising from the bench and thrusting his hands into his jeans pockets, Dipper grudgingly started the long walk back home as the sun slipped beneath the western horizon.

The call was made to the police when Dipper had not come home in the evening. When the officers arrived, Mabel tearfully gave them a description of the clothes he had been wearing, while her mother provided a photo and told them of the unique birthmark on his forehead. The family was assured that when the boy was located, they would be notified.
The lights in the Pines home were still on at two in the morning. Mr. Pines was still out, driving around looking for Dipper, while Mabel and her mother were at home waiting by the phone, when the police called. An unidentified boy fitting Dipper’s description had been brought to the Highland Hospital by ambulance. He was unconscious with severe injuries, and was in serious condition.
They called Dipper’s father, and he arrived at the emergency department first. He confirmed that it was his son, as he watched the staff work on him in the ER. He barely recognized Dipper from all the bandages, swelling, and wires and hoses that were attached to him. The teen was being prepped for surgery, and his father was quickly whisked away.
When Mabel and her mother got there, the police told the family what they knew. Dipper had been found in an alley in the neighborhood of Fruitvale, a rough urban area of Oakland south of Piedmont. He had been beaten severely. There were no knife wounds: his attacker or attackers had used punches and kicks only, but that was small consolation. An ER doctor told them that he had at least three broken ribs, a broken collarbone, a partial leg fracture, four lost molars, and a broken jaw and cheekbone. And that was just what they could see: he had a probable concussion, and was in emergency surgery in order to locate the source of internal bleeding.
Like her parents, Mabel was forced to simply do nothing but wait. She felt responsible for Dipper’s injuries, knowing that if she hadn’t been so hard on him, he wouldn’t have been out in the city on his own. Guilt weighed her down, but she also felt determination to make things better.
There’s got to some way to fix things up, to get back what we’ve lost, she thought to herself in the waiting room. If only I’d done things differently! He needs to pull through this! If … no, when … he gets better, there’s going to be nothing that will stop me from showing him I love him. He’ll have to forgive me! I’ll do whatever it takes! To heck with Mama and Daddy! He belongs with me, we love each other! Somehow, I can make this work!

Throughout the next day, Mabel kept vigil by Dipper’s bed in the critical care unit. While her parents took turns, Mabel stubbornly refused to leave her twin’s side.
Dipper finally regained consciousness the following evening. He was on a strong dose of pain-killing drugs in his IV. His neck was braced and his head cushioned to keep him immobile, and his jaw was wired shut until he was ready to endure more surgery for his face. He couldn’t speak. As his eyes fluttered open, he groaned, then his eyes darted around in wide-eyed fear until he saw his mother and father move to stand together on the left side of his bed. His worried mother lightly gripped her son’s hand.
“It’s all right, Dipper. You’re in the hospital, but you’re safe now.” Dipper’s eyes relaxed a bit, and he weakly squeezed his mother’s hand, and she and his father both gave him warm smiles.
Mabel leaned over into Dipper’s line of sight from the other side of the bed. “Dip! Hey, Broseph!” she cried shakily. “I’m here too! I’m not going anywhere, either!” She took Dipper’s other hand.
Dipper locked eyes with his sister for a second, then redirected his gaze to the ceiling. His right hand remained limp. Then his eyes lost focus and slowly closed, and he fell back into morphine-induced sleep.

Two days and facial reconstructive surgery later, Dipper was eventually able to communicate to his family what had happened, mumbling through the new pins and plates in his mouth and cheek.
He recounted how it was evening and completely dark as Dipper was making his way back from the shoreline park towards Piedmont. Initially reluctant, but then eager to get home, the most direct route involved walking through areas of Oakland he realized were a lot more dangerous at night than they were in daylight earlier that day.
He almost made it, and was about an hour’s walk from home when he started being followed by a group of three older boys. He tried to ignore them, but as he approached a narrow side street they suddenly ran to grab him, and dragged him off into the dark alley.
The thugs taunted the skinny, clean-cut suburban kid who wandered into their turf, and demanded everything he had. When he’d desperately explained he had nothing on him at all, they became furious. Two of them held him against a wall by his arms, while the third viciously beat him. He recalled being punched in the face over and over, and being dumped to the ground. Then the kicking started. The last thing he remembered was the unbelievable pain caused a direct kick to his kidney.
His father asked him why he left the house and walked so far in the first place. Mabel shifted uncomfortably in her chair, and Dipper paused before saying that he and Mabel tried working out their disagreement, but he got frustrated and had to walk away. Mabel pleaded to her parents to let Dipper rest, and besides, she assured them that she wasn’t mad anymore, and she promised never to let things get that ugly again. Dipper gave a slight nod in agreement, and their father reluctantly allowed the subject to drop until their lives could return to normal.
When neither of their folks were watching, Mabel threw a big, exaggerated wink at Dipper, along with a quick smile. Dipper responded by exhaling sharply and rolling his eyes. Mabel managed to keep the smile on her face.

Over the next two weeks, Dipper’s physical condition slowly improved, though he remained in the hospital. The damage to the kidney had been successfully repaired in surgery, stopping the internal bleeding, but it was still very sore and tender. His leg was in a cast and his torso was taped to hold his ribs in place. His mouth was feeling well enough for some real food. The missing teeth were gone, so he would be chewing on the right side of his mouth from then on, but otherwise his bones and organs were on the mend.
But his head was another story. Dipper was frustratingly aware that his mental recovery was progressing very slowly, if at all. The concussion gave him terrible headaches. Reading made him dizzy, and he couldn’t stand bright light. The meds he was on softened the edge off the pain in his head and torso, but also dulled his thoughts: he couldn’t concentrate. The neurologist had explained that every concussion was unique, and it was impossible to accurately predict how long the symptoms would persist. She also reluctantly admitted that in some cases, the symptoms never go away. There was nothing to do but wait for Dipper’s brain to heal itself.
Mabel had brought homework to the hospital from school, but Dipper could barely process any of it. School had always been easy for Dipper. Now he stewed over his inability to do any of his work, knowing that before he could have finished it in no time. With each passing day, he felt more and more inadequate.
It was during one of her homework tutoring sessions after school that Mabel and Dipper finally found themselves alone in his room, as their mother had left for the hospital cafeteria for something to eat, and the other bed in the room had just been temporarily vacated. Mabel set the homework aside and grasped Dipper’s hand.
“Dipper, I’m super sorry for everything that’s happened!” she pleaded quietly. “I didn’t mean all those cray-cray things I said back at the house! I was just all … stupid. You know that, right?” She paused as Dipper looked at her. “Can you ever forgive me? Please, pretty please?”
He didn’t answer immediately, shifting his eyes to and from Mabel’s face. “Yeah, Mabel. We’re okay, I guess,” he mumbled. “I just can’t deal with … you know, us … right now.”
Mabel grasped his hand tighter. “I understand,” she told him sweetly, trying to hold his gaze. “We’ll deal with this later. We’ll figure out how to be together,” pantomiming air quotes, “again real soon, I promise! And I’ll make it alllllllll up to you!” she whispered with a naughty grin.
Dipper looked at his sister with naked astonishment. He pulled back his hand and shook his head as much as his neck brace would allow.
“What … what are you thinking?” he managed to say slowly. “No … No, we can’t do any of that! How could that possibly happen, Mabel?” Dipper’s voice gained strength with every word. “Your whole … angry thing … was about me already telling you that we had to stop all of that before someone discovers us!”
Mabel shrank from Dipper, almost fearful of his tone, but he raised his voice even more. “And now on top of that, here I am, a useless, special-needs, learning-impaired idiot, who can’t read or tolerate looking out a window! Do you know how that feels?” Mabel’s hand went to her mouth as Dipper’s frustration continued to spew out ever faster. “And a cripple, besides, who can’t walk or even wipe his own ass! Do you know how that feels?!”
Her determination to find a way to repair their love affair was dissolving rapidly. Her heart desperately tried to hang on to a thread of hope that everything would be fine.
“So where and when do you actually think we’re going to have an opportunity to fuck each other, Mabel?!” Dipper growled bitterly.
Everything crumbled down inside of Mabel, collapsing into a horrible, worthless pile in her gut. Dipper had reduced their most beautiful times together to an ugly, crude, and shameful level.
Their mother chose that exact moment to re-enter the hospital room. “Hey, you two! How’s the schoolwork coming along? Making any progress, Dipper?”
Dipper slumped back into his bed. “Not really, Mom. I … I can’t concentrate. I’m not really feeling up to doing any more right now.”
“Me neither,” Mabel echoed quietly. She turned away from her mother as she gathered up the books and papers.
“That’s all right, guys,” their mother said. “Pumpkin, why don’t you take your turn going down to get something to eat?” She was temporarily oblivious to Mabel’s downturned face. ”No hurry, visiting hours run until eight tonight.”
“No hurry. Got it,” Mabel replied, opening the door to the room. She looked back at Dipper, and caught his attention as he looked at her.
In an instant, they silently communicated to one another.
Mabel’s pained expression let Dipper know that she was sincerely sorry. She didn’t want to frustrate or belittle him. Mabel just wanted to make Dipper happy with her love.
Dipper’s face had softened, his eyes remorseful, offering silent apology. He knew he was frustrated and went too far, and he desperately wanted to be able to be with her, too. But there was just no way for them to proceed that way in their family, not as a boy in girl in love.
Their mother noticed Dipper staring at the door, and turned to look at her daughter. Mabel spun and slipped out before her mother could see her face. She headed toward the cafeteria, but instead found a stairwell where she was able to sit alone. She held her face in her hands, but there were no tears. Only an intense ache that radiated from everywhere. Isn’t there any way for the hurting to just … stop? she wondered miserably to herself.
Back in the hospital room, Dipper closed his eyes as his mother tried to engage him in conversation. After five minutes, he asked his mother to please let him rest, and could she go the visitor lounge for awhile? He held it together for another 30 seconds after she left. No one heard the quiet cries that came from the room for the next half hour.
The twins were trapped, together but apart. The pain was unspeakable.

To be continued ...
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Fistbump 2: Unspeakable (a Pinecest story)