What If Dipper Stayed?

Groggy mornings

When Dipper woke up, he was in the recliner with a blanket wrapped around his waist. He felt exhausted. What happened? The last thing he remembered was heading back home after he found the crystal forest again. He'd been walking along when...he couldn't remember. That was weird. His mind couldn't be erased. Something must've happened, then. Dipper tried to stand up, but fell back against the chair. He was weak. Very weak. Dipper looked down to his arm, where white bandages were wrapped. So he was hurt. Okay. He just needed to sit back and think. Think about how he ended up here. Think about how he got hurt in the first place. Think about what attacked him, what hurt him. He could vaguely recall a strange creature, but he couldn't remember exactly what it was. Maybe he wrote about it in one of the journals. Or did he read about it? He couldn't remember. His head was a mess. Maybe Grunkle Ford knew about it. He had to have found Dipper, since he was at the Shack. Grunkle Ford probably knew what attacked him. 

"Dipper? Are you awake?" A rough voice asked. Dipper opened his eyes to see Grunkle Ford sitting at the table, fiddling with their substance identifier. "Yeah. What happened?" Dipper croaked, wincing at his own voice. It sounded like he'd screamed until he could scream no more. "You were attacked by a Chormina. It poisoned you, but we managed to get you the antivenom. What can you remember?" Ford asked as he walked over, grabbing the glass of water that was on the table. Dipper gladly accepted it. "Not much. I was on my way back. I can remember a creature, but I don't know what it was. It might've been the Chormina, but I'm not certain." He explained as he sipped at the water, unable to stomach much more. "You got lucky. A few more hours without the cure, and you'd be dead." Ford gently ruffled Dipper's hair, relieved when Dipper lightly smacked his hand away. He had enough strength to fight off his Grunkle, so he should be fine. "I feel like I died and came back to life. Do you have my journal? I may be able to find the creature I'm thinking of in it." Ford pulled out Journal 3, placing it in Dipper's lap. "I'll see if I can find something in the pantry that you can stomach. For now, it'll have to be a liquids diet for you." Ford walked into the kitchen, looking back at his nephew one more time. Dipper was still very pale, and would probably be pale for a few days. He was more concerned about the side effects of Chormina poison. Survivors often claimed to hear voices that weren't there, or claimed that they saw ghosts. He needed to make sure that if something did happen, it wouldn't interfere with Dipper's work. He knew how much Dipper enjoyed researching the supernatural, and it would crush him if he had to stop.

Dipper lazily flipped through the pages of his journal, recognizing his own handwriting and drawings instead of the ones he'd memorized from Ford. Maybe the creature he was thinking of had only been his imagination. Maybe it was his brain trying to come up with an explanation for what happened to him. He knew the human brain couldn't always comprehend what it was seeing, but he'd been dealing with supernatural weirdness for years now. It didn't make sense for his brain to be doing the same thing as normal brains. Maybe the Chormina poison was affecting him somehow. Dipper shrugged it off, continuing to flip through the incomplete journal. Dipper was excited to almost be done with it, although finishing it would mean there wasn't much left to discover. Maybe he could go down to the alien site and try to decode their language next. It would probably take up a few years of his life, so he'd be entertained for a while.

Grunkle Ford came back into the living room, pulling his jacket on. "I'm going to run into town, and see if I can find something for you to eat there. Stanley has more bacon and brown meat than anyone I've ever seen." Dipper smiled. "Yeah. It helped when the apocalypse came, though. Kept a small band of survivors alive long enough to rescue you." "And for that, I'm grateful. You should try to get some rest while I'm gone. I'm sure Mabel and Stanley will be up soon, and you know you probably won't get any sleep with them running around." Ford walked out the door, leaving Dipper in comfortable silence. He probably should get some sleep, but he didn't feel tired at all. He really wanted to figure out what creature he was thinking of. The Chormina wasn't it. He could remember the Chormina, and the drawing of the Chormina in his journal didn't match whatever he was thinking of. He let out a frustrated groan, shutting the book. Maybe it was in one of the other two journals. Ford usually had Journal 1 on him, and they shared Journal 2, which meant Ford also had that. Dipper leaned back into the recliner, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on. If he was stuck here until Ford came back, then he might as well enjoy himself. 

Dipper glanced at the clock on the wall, which was reading 4:58. He wondered if Ford remembered that stores didn't open until eight AM, but shrugged it off. Ford always found a way to get what he wanted, even if stuff was closed. Dipper turned his attention back to the TV, where Ghost Harassers was starting. At least the show was interesting. Maybe he should start his own show. He'd had plans for it at one point. He could still learn production and start documenting what he found, but call it a fantasy show instead of a documentary. He and Mabel had done something similar when they were younger, but they'd used a very crappy camera. Then again, TV shows took a lot of time. It would probably pull him away from his research. He preferred his research to fame and popularity. Getting attention as a kid usually meant that bullies were going his way, so he did his best to avoid too much attention.

By the time Ford returned, Dipper had fallen back asleep. What could he say? Being poisoned made him tired. Ford had a few cans of soup in a grocery bag, and immediately noticed that Dipper was asleep again. He smiled, gently taking the journal out of Dipper's lap and putting it on the end table. He really needed to talk to Stanley about his pantry. Sure, protein was good, but there needed to be a little variety. It had taken a lot to convince his younger brother to buy a new fridge, but the extra space and fresh beverages were nice. It allowed Stanford to stock up on things like eggs and cheese, and he wasn't worried about it spoiling within three days. Stanford set the cans on a shelf in the pantry, grabbing a breakfast bar for himself. He'd already been up for most of the night, so there was no point in going to bed. He walked back to the table, sitting down and pulling out Journal 1. He remembered writing something down about Chormina poison in his journal, although it may have just been something as simple as it existed. It was probably on his ever-growing poisons list. 

When Mabel trudge downstairs, Dipper was still asleep. Grunkle Ford was sitting at the table, doing something with his nerd device. He looked like he hadn't slept at all. Mabel could relate to that. She probably only slept for a few hours, which is much less than she normally did. "How is he?" She asked Ford, who looked surprised to see her up. It was 8:20, but it wasn't abnormal for her to be up early. "I think he'll be okay. He woke up a few hours ago, but he couldn't remember much. He just needs some more rest, and he'll be good as new." Ford offered Mabel a smile, although it didn't offer much comfort. "Okay. I'm going to go back to where we found him. Maybe I can find something else, now that's the sun's out." "Just be careful. Here, take this. I trust you still know your way around the forest?" Ford handed her Dipper's journal. "Yeah. I'll call if I find anything." "Good. Remember: be careful. If it managed to poison Dipper, it's either extremely powerful or it caught him off guard." "I will. Take care of him, okay? He's the only brother I've got." Ford grinned, appreciative of Mabel's concern. "I won't let anything happen to him. I promise."