Chapter Text
Greg’s classes were cancelled for the day-something about backed up toilets? Not that Greg was complaining, after all. It gave him an extra day to go to the nearest café, piggy-back on their free Wi-Fi, and (futilely) search for his brother, as he had been doing every day he had off.
Wirt was back. How could he explain it? Since the night Greg had broken the surface of the pond, screaming bloody murder, there had been a sense of absence. A deep, gaping hole lingered inside of him that he could feel at night in bed, playing Wirt’s clarinet mixtapes to break the silence, or when he stumbled across a pack of half used reeds or a crumpled jumper. It was bearable, but just. It was like a weight across his shoulders. No, it had been like a weight across his shoulders. Because Saturday night, Greg had woken up with that hole gone-not like it had been filled up, but like the hole had never been there in the first place. The feeling of rightness was so present it had been all Greg could do to not cry.
He had gone to his mother first, wondering if she had had the same experience as he had. His mother had looked at him with a mix of surprise and pity when he had brought up the idea of Wirt being not dead. “Sweetie,” his mother had whispered, gently reaching out and holding Greg’s hand. “You’re twenty three, and it’s been a long time since Wirt died-,”
“Disappeared,” Greg had said firmly, ears beginning to burn with frustration. It wouldn’t have been possible to explain the world over the garden wall without his parents taking him in for some serious time with the shrink.
Greg had been to enough therapists to last a lifetime.
His mother’s expression had stayed the same save for the tightening around her eyes. “Okay. It’s been a long time since Wirt disappeared, and maybe it’s time for you to let go. I miss him too, you know, but I can’t go on hoping.” Her lip had wobbled, and Greg had dropped his head along with the conversation, trying to ignore the glassy sheen the unshed tears had spread over her eyes. And that had been that.
It could have gone worse, Greg thought, shoving a steaming strawberry Pop-Tart into his mouth as he grabbed Jason Funderberker Jr. off of his appointed spot on the counter and gently placed him in his coat pocket. Molasses croaked from her cage. “Sorry, Mo, not today. Today is JJ’s turn to go out.” Greg said to the pouty frog gently. Molasses harrumphed and hopped inside her hutch. But really, his discussion with his mother honestly could have been so much worse.
She could have taken me to another shrink.
His parents had been very alarmed when their seven year old son had begun to stubbornly insist that their other son was stuck in a different world, and asking if could they ‘please phone the police and send them over the garden wall to get him back?’. So started the long line of psychoanalyzing and doctors.
Greg loved his mother, but he hadn’t minded moving out to his own cottage on the outskirts of town. After Wirt’s ‘death’, she had become almost obsessed with keeping Greg safe, as if she were trying to compensate for not being to keep Wirt safe. The fit she had had when Greg had announced he was moving out had been memorable, to say the least.
Jamming his feet into his boots, he hastily stepped outside and locked his door behind him, hissing through the Pop-Tart as the pastry burned his tongue. The day was darker and hotter than usual, followed by a strange, dry wind that seemed to curl itself around Greg’s ears and slither down the back of his neck. Repressing a shudder, he pulled his coat tighter around himself and fumbled in his pocket for the car keys.
He unlocked the driver door, wincing as flakes of rust fluttered to the road. I really should scrap Janice… Jason Jr. croaked in alarm from Greg’s coat. “Yeah, you’re right. I’d never. I love Janice too much.” He patted the worn steering wheel before turning on the ignition. Janice coughed feebly once or twice before grudgingly coming to life with an indignant sputter. Greg sighed, rubbing his bleary eyes with one hand as he pulled out of his driveway.
Jason Jr. shifted in Greg’s coat pocket, and with another loud sigh, Greg pulled the frog out of his coat and gently placed him into the passenger seat. “I know it’s stupid to think he’s back, but I can feel it, you know?” Jason looked up at him, throat gently pulsing.
“Yeah, you think I’m nutso too, right? Everyone else thinks I’m crazy. Maybe I am crazy. Who knows? At least I’m not homicidal.”
Jason Jr. gave a great wallump of alarm as something large and rather human shaped slammed into his bumper and rolled over the windshield, spider-webbing the glass with cracks. Greg screamed and twisted the wheel, rolling off of the road and into the leafy foliage along the side of the road. “Oh my god! I am homicidal! I just killed somebody oh my god!” Greg pocketed Jason Jr., glad he had thought to install a miniature seatbelt for the frog. It had been worth the money and the weird stares. But what was he doing pondering over frog seatbelts? He had probably just killed somebody. The taste of synthetic Pop-Tart sugar lingered in his mouth still as he unlocked the door.
He scrambled through the passenger side, falling onto the ground with an ungainly umph. He staggered over to the lump lying prone in the middle of the road. Everything was blurry- had he hit his head? Was he concussed and going blind?
“Oh my stars it is a person I just killed somebody oh no oh no oh no-,”
“Ugh.”
“Oh my goodness you aren’t dead thank goodness I thought I killed you are you broken anywhere? I’m so sorry-,”
“I’m fine, I’ve been through worse!”
Greg blinked as the person sat up, groaning as they did. “These yours?” Greg squinted. “Glasses,” the person prompted. Oh. So he wasn’t concussed, or going blind.
“Thanks,” Greg said somewhat shamefully, slipping the glasses on and blinking. The person was a she, and despite several bloody scratches and already forming bruises, she seemed fine. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you-what were you doing around here? There’s just my house, and then the forest…”
The woman scrunched up her face as she rubbed at a scrape, freckles colliding with one another over the bridge of her nose. “I was going to go climb some of the huge oak trees and do some training, but I think my ankle is sprained.” Greg couldn’t tell if the woman was joking or not.
She reached down and poked at her tightly laced boot with her right hand. “Ow. Yup.” She turned to where Janice was sitting on the side of the road. “Mind if I hitch a ride to town? Looked like that was where you were going behind we ran into each other.”
Greg nodded, dazed. He had expected more anger. “O-of course! It’s the least I can do for hitting you-,”
“Dude! I think I did more damage to the car than it did to me!” the woman said wonderingly, limping over to the passenger seat, looking at the cracked glass. Greg noted that this was, in fact, true. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve taken out flying eyeballs. I can pay for the windshield, you know,” she said, running a hand through her waist length auburn hair.
“No, it’s perfectly fine,” Greg said, opening the side doors, trying to figure out if the whole ‘floating eyeballs’ thing was a joke or not. He paused. “You don’t mind sitting in the back, do you? The seatbelt up front definitely wouldn’t fit you.”
The woman shrugged, agilely slipping into the back seat despite only using one leg. “No problem. She peeked up over the seat as Greg walked around to the driver’s side. “Who’s the tiny seatbelt for?” Greg swallowed and pulled Jason Jr. out of his pocket, untangling the many cords that kept the frog safely out of harm’s way and clicking them into their appropriate places. His cheeks began to burn. Oh man, she’s going to be so weirded out by this.
“Duuude! Is that a seatbelt for a frog? Oh man, that is awesome!”
Or… not.
“I know someone who has a pet pig, and she treats it like a real person, I swear. And she has this baby harness she carries the pig around in. Cool, right?” The woman grinned, stray auburn pieces of hair coming out from under a blue and white baseball cap.
Greg blinked, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. “Pretty cool,” Greg affirmed, coaxing Janice to life.
They drove in silence for a couple minutes, the woman staring out the window at the blurred green scenery. Greg looked at her in the overhead mirror, and realized with a start that she was bleeding. “Um, your leg-,”
She looked down. “What? Oh, sorry. Don’t want to get blood all over the floor.” With a practiced ease, she ripped off the sleeves of her flannel shirt and tied it around her leg. Greg was impressed. He had never met anyone as odd as her in a long, long time.
“So,” the woman said. “What’s the frog’s name?”
“Jason Funderberker Jr.”
“Why junior?”
“His dad had the same name. He died two years ago.” Greg blinked quickly, trying quell the sadness rising up inside of him. Jason Funderberker had been more than special. Was it possible for animals and people to be soulmates? Jason Funderberker had been his best friend. He hoped there was, because otherwise he was crazy for having cried so much after the old frog had passed away peacefully in his sleep. “I have another frog, too. Her name is Molasses, mostly because she’s so slow.”
A slow, lazy smile spread over the woman’s face. “Sick. Hey, I never got to ask your name. What is it?”
Greg smiled. “I’m Greg Halberd.”
“Wendy Corduroy!” Wendy said, her nose (and by default, her freckles) crinkling distractingly as she smiled. Why it was distracting, Greg didn’t know. Some things just were, and Greg didn’t want to question it. He pushed that errant train of thought to the back of his mind. The drive with Wendy Corduroy went by surprisingly quickly, filled with oddly comfortable chatter.
“What’s your best friend like?” Greg said, popping a stick of gum into his mouth. Wendy reached over and grabbed the packet, taking one for herself.
“Freaky smart. Pretty introverted, but he’s a fantastic friend. I’m visiting him and his sister for two weeks next week.” Wendy tapped the faded blue pine tree on her hat, smiling. “Your turn, Greg. Weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten?”
“Potatoes and molasses, for sure.”
“…What does that even taste like?”
“It’s indescribable. Like manna from heaven. Biggest animal that’s ever attacked you?”
“A unicorn attacked me. I beat it up.”
“Very funny.” Greg rolled his eyes.
He caught her frown in the overhead mirror. “Greg, do you believe in the supernatural?”
Greg’s heart began to beat a little bit faster, and he clutched the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. He was going too fast. He should probably slow down. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I do.” Wendy didn’t miss his tightening fingers, and she didn’t miss his tensed shoulders.
“Have you… ever had an experience with the supernatural?”
Greg met her eyes through the mirror and smiled wryly. “Yeah.”
“What was it?”
“It’s a long story. The shortened version is that my brother and I went into some other world, and I’m the only one who came out. I thought he was still alive, and now I know he is because I woke up last week and I could just feel it. And I have no idea how to search for him, and vice versa, because we’ve moved and changed names so many times that even I get confused sometimes.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I hit you with my car, and I don’t even know you and now I’m talking about my brother who may or may not be dead.”
“Right here.”
“What?”
“Turn right here.”
Greg complied, mentally slapping himself for talking about his problems to some poor woman he’d barely known longer than twenty minutes-at most. I’m such an idiot. Oh well. At least after today, I won’t see her again. Focusing his gaze on the road, he realized that it was familiar. Actually, it was the same stupidly dangerous and windy gravel road he drove up four times a week for his courses at LWU-“You live on campus.” More of a statement than a question.
Wendy nodded, a contemplative look on her face. Stars, he really had to stop jinxing himself. “I’m in the Oak dorm. Right next to Pine,” she added, snorting a little bit.
Greg maneuvered around the sewage cleaning trucks and cars and pulled into the small parking lot reserved for dorm students. “Need help getting to the door?”
Wendy shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I’m a Corduroy.” She opened the door, then paused. “Hey, want to exchange numbers? I’d like to talk again before I leave next week.”
Was this happening? Was she interested? In him? He shouldn’t read into it at all. No, that was overreacting. How old was she anyways? What if she was like only seventeen and he was thinking about an illegal relationship, oh gosh he was such a terrible person, when was the last time he had kissed somebody? It had been three years ago, with Daniel Jackson at Ellen Friar’s New Year’s party and why was he thinking about kissing, oh god he was so gross-
“Greg?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah, numbers. Phone. Got it.”
They exchanged numbers, Greg stammering like an idiot and Wendy obliviously waving him goodbye as he drove out of the parking lot like hell itself was nipping at Janice’s tires. Jason Jr. croaked in what Greg could only assume was either you are stupid! or nice one, Greg..
“Be quiet, you,” Greg muttered, fastidiously keeping his eyes on the road as he drove to the small, locally owned coffee shop that had terrible coffee but fantastic donuts and free Wi-Fi. He parked along the street, carefully avoiding any fire hydrants or signs. After slipping Jason Jr. into his pocket (“Be quiet, okay? We don’t want a repeat of last time…”) he locked Janice and tried to ignore the strange looks passerby were giving his mangled car. I should probably take her in for repair… the repair probably costs more than Janice is worth… “Like I’m going to get rid of her,” he muttered to himself.
The small bell on the door jingled cheerfully as he stepped inside, letting the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baking pastries fill his lungs. Stepping up to the counter, he ordered a medium coffee with a shot of espresso (God, it was always terrible, so why did he keep ordering it?) and two chocolate donuts. He settled down at a secluded booth, pulled out his phone, and opened his texting app.
[Wendy is typing.]
Greg let out a high pitched squeak, throwing the phone at the padded booth opposite him. The waitress working at the counter gave him a suspicious look as he sheepishly bent down and picked it up from where it had bounced onto the floor.
Wendy: ok so about the whole supernatural thing with your brother
Wendy: i think i know somebody who can help you w/ finding him
Greg’s heart leapt into his throat, and he fumbled with his phone in his haste to reply.
You: who? where do they live? do you have their contact information? how????
Wendy: cool your jets, dude. that best friend i mentioned? he’s kinda the expert on the supernatural.
Wendy: he saved us from the near apocalypse a couple years back. long story.
You: when can I meet him? where does he live? CONTACT INFORMATION??????
You: ????!???!?
Wendy: believe it or not, he doesn’t have a phone. i can give you his sister’s # tho
Wendy: actually...
You: ?
Wendy: this might sound dumb but i’m going up there next week, if you wanted to tag along you could probably come
You: when do I start to pack
Wendy: sick! i leave on friday morning with my friend i can leave you instructions if you want
Wendy: sry no room in the van of doom :,(
You: that’s fine just give me the instructions and tell me what to bring and i’ll meet you there.
You: What’s this place called anyways? Where is it?
Wendy: bout an eight hour drive from here. in oregon. called gravity falls
Greg decided not to comment on the wordplay of the town’s name.
You: thank you so much. you have no idea how much this means to me
Wendy: i think i do. no prob greg
Greg leaned his elbows on the solid wood of the booth, hands tangled in his wavy brown hair. “Oh my gosh,” he breathed. “I have a decent chance now.” Jason Jr. croaked in a very heck yes! or perhaps finally! way. Greg couldn’t stop the stupidly large grin spreading across his face. “I can find my brother again!” He laughed, exhilarated. He stood up, ignoring the coffee and donuts. “What day is it?” He called out to the grumpy waitress.
She raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Thursday?”
“Oh my stars, she’s leaving tomorrow!” Grabbing his phone, he threw a twenty on the booth and ran out the door, leaving the coffee to sit on the table in a rather forlorn way.
“C’mon, JJ!” He grinned, buckling the frog into his seat. “We have packing to do!” Going up to meet with a person you’ve known for only twenty minutes was never a good idea, but- “Good ideas be damned!” Greg shouted, pressing down on the gas. “I can find Wirt!”
Greg honestly hadn’t believed in miracles until this moment.
He watched from the eyes of the woman.
A new development. After all these years, he could still smell the same scent coming off of the man’s skin. He still glowed. The boy had completed all of his tasks, and yet here he was, not dead. Neither was the other. This would change. Soon. He watched as the boy drove away, clipping the side mirror of another car and setting off the car alarm. The boy did not slow down.
Soon. Soon, there would be more puppets. More fun.There was liquid on the table. He was not able to consume it. He drew nutrition in a way different from the mortals.
He needed power.
More power. He left the woman, feeling the pressure of the gate closing in around him. He was trapped inside the gates of the town. His body was. Not his mind. His mind, it was freer. But not free.
He would break them.
But now, he had to wait.