The Things We Leave Behind (Gravity Falls Fic)

Chapter 22: The Things That Go Bump in Our Hearts

Saige's POV:

I sighed, shoving my hands in my pockets as I walked down the path towards my cabin. Frustration was bubbling inside me, just beneath my skin. I hoped to high heavens it would dissipate before I got back the house. I wouldn't want to blow up on my guests.

My anger became more and more... there. And, I realized, I'm not going to be calm by the time I get home. I clenched and un-clenched my fists inside my hoodie pockets before ripping one out and slamming it into a tree.

I shake the hand, wincing. Bad decision. The skin on my knuckles was scraped and bleeding. It stung. In fairness, it did release a little bit of the steam that was rising within me. I glanced at the tree trunk again, before throwing just one more punch. It hurt like a son of a gun, but I have to say, my emotional state was improving.

I raise my fist again, but was interrupted by a voice beside me, "You're really showing that mean tree, aren't you?"

It startled me, and I stumbled aside, holding out my arms to steady myself. I had been so focused on my own selfish circumvention that I hadn't even noticed when Bill arrived.

I sigh, dropping my hands, "What do you want?"

"I wanted to speak with you. But now I'm kinda wondering. What's the deal with the shrubbery abuse?" He says, gesturing at the poor tree.

"Oh, didn't you hear? It's national abuse your shrubbery day," I say, flatly.

Bill blinks, "Are you upset?"

I scoff, "Does it show?"

He chuckles, "A little."

I'm silent.

He meets my gaze, "Might I ask-"

"No, you might not," I interrupt.

He asks anyway, "-what's bothering you?"

I don't respond. He stares at me for a bit, and then asks again, "What's bothering you?"

I swallow, then lean against the tree, becoming very interested in my fingers, "Mabel and Dipper interrogated me about my symbol and how close it is to the one for the Society of the Blind Eye. It took me hours to convince them that I had no intention of sucking out their memories. But frankly I don't blame them for being suspicious, I mean, the similarities are uncanny."

Then I let out a grim laugh, "This symbol continues to cause trouble for me."

"So you're mad because they asked about the Operator symbol."

"No," I shake my head, "I'm mad because they don't trust me. In my line of work, trust is very-"

"-Valuable," Bill finishes my sentence for me.

I nod, slowly, "Yeah... if they don't trust me, how can I trust them? Can't they see I'm only here to help?!"

I feel my rage getting the better of me again, and I punch the tree to release it, hoping not to say something I'd regret. Blood was flowing freely down my hand now, and I was definitely going to have scars.

I saw Bill's eyes drop to my knuckles, nervously, switching back and forth between the wounds and my face.

All is quiet for a moment, and then I feel the need to reassure him, "A little pain never hurt anybody."

"That statement," Bill begins, visibly amused, "Makes less sense than me."

I can't help but crack a smile, "True, but really, this is nothing to me. It's just a scratch."

He reaches out his hand, and I'm hesitant to take it, but then I set my small paw in the palm of his. Out of nowhere, it seems, he produces a bandage and wraps my bleeding fingers.

I blush a little, surprised he could be so gentle, and carefully withdraw my hand, "Um... thanks."

Then I snort, "That wasn't very bad guy-like of you."

He shrugs, nonchalant, "I don't always have to be bad."

I bit my lip and tuck a curl behind my ear, looking away from him, "So... what did you want to talk to me about?"

I don't see his face as he replies, "You didn't tell your guests about your prosthetic. But you did tell me. Does that make me special?"

"Oh, you're special, alright," I joke.

I turn back to him. He doesn't find that very humorous.

He takes a casual step towards me, "I learned some interesting things from your friend. Asha."

"Did you now?" I say, mocking intrigue.

"Yeah. Now I know what you meant when you said that symbol represented a terrible monster."

My face falls, "What do you mean?"

"I saw a monster in your best friend's memories."

"And... what does that have to do with me?"

"It was you, wasn't it?" He says, suddenly.

"I don't know what you're talking about..."

"Dark, shadow-like. Fast. Glowing yellow eyes. Ring a bell?" he takes another step forward.

I shake my head, retreating, "No, no bells..."

"It was you."

I snap, "No, it wasn't!" I shove him out of the way and disappear into the underbrush.

"Wait!" I hear him call behind me, crashing through the forest in my pursuit. I ignore him and continue to run.

But then my foot lands in a hole and I fall forward, screaming in shock. I hit the ground and then roll down a hill, landing in some kind of gully with steep, grassy walls. Bill trips and stumbles down after me, sliding in next to me. I favor my ankle, scooting away from him.

He sighs, "You idiot, you should have stopped when I told you to..."

He notices my angry expression.

"You know, finding out that you're not completely... innocent, for lack of a better term, actually makes me kind of like you more."

I shake my head, "It wasn't me, Bill. I don't know what you saw, but it wasn't me."

He seems slightly disappointed.

He holds out his hand again, this time to help me stand. I slap it aside and start upwards, but then I stumble, and Bill catches me, steadying me. I was about to pull away, when Bill takes a hand and tilts my chin up, forcing me to look at him.

"Say it to my face," He whispers.

"Say what?" I reply, becoming acutely aware of his other hand pressed to my back.

"Tell me you hate me."

I swallow.

"I ha-" before I could finish, he lowers his face to mine and presses our lips together.

I hate you.