Chapter Text
Months later…
Even in late March, the snow waged a valiant war against the steady rotation of the earth, holding steady against the increasingly warm sun, calcifying into unsightly patches clinging to yellowed grass. Even as braver plants began to sprout, taking advantage of any non-snow covered spaces, the ice still stayed stubborn, just enough to make someone slip if they weren’t expecting it.
Which made Wendy’s day go by a little faster.
Behind the register, she suddenly burst out laughing, watching a tourist slip badly on the ice, falling to the ground. Remy sighed, casting her a warning look.
“It’s funny!” She protested. “Dude, you should’ve seen it–”
“If you need to laugh at a customer,” Remy said evenly, setting several folded t-shirts in their proper place. “You go to the back to do it privately, I don’t know how many times I need to tell you this–”
“Live a little,” Wendy said. “I promise it won’t kill you.”
“Be professional,” Remy warned. “Or I’m cutting your hours. I mean it this time, I really do.”
Wendy rolled her eyes, and unfortunately, they both knew Remy was bluffing.
“I’ll be in the office if you need me,” Remy said, exiting the gift shop and stepping behind a door that warned it was only for employees. They stretched, growing into their true shape, and their stomach rumbled.
Soos was outside, braving the ice with nothing more than a golf cart. Remy had begged him several times to stop wearing the eyepatch, because it was seriously starting to affect his driving, but he refused, saying it was all integral part of the Mr. Mystery persona. Remy supposed they couldn’t argue with that; Stan had a talent for getting the golf cart into strange accidents, after all.
“Hey, Abuelita,” Remy said, because she wouldn’t answer to anything else. Remy didn’t think they had ever met anyone so nonplussed by the world. Remy had revealed their true form to her barely days after Stan and Stanford left, and she had just looked at them calmly, as if she had known this forever. Maybe she did, it wouldn’t have surprised them at this point.
“Hello, Remy,” she said, working on a crossword from the kitchen table. “What is a seven letter word for ‘exhausted’ or ‘gaunt’?”
“Do you actually want me to tell you?” Remy asked, rooting through the fridge for leftover lasagna. “Or are you going to get annoyed with me and say you could have figured that one out?”
“I do not do that,” Abuelita said serenely.
“Uh huh,” Remy said, and sniffed the lasagna. “Is this still good?”
“It should be,” Melody said, shouldering her way into the kitchen with a box of merchandise. “If you want to polish it off, that’ll free up some fridge space too.”
After the winter holidays, Melody had moved back to Gravity Falls from Portland. Soos had offered to let her stay in the shack until she found her own place, but as time went on, it became pretty clear that she wasn’t going anywhere.
Remy wasn’t upset. Melody was friendly, helpful, and made Soos happy. They had intended to slowly ease her into their true identity, but she had walked into the kitchen late at night to see them in their real body, eating peanut butter out of the jar.
She had reacted pretty well to the surprise, all things considered. She had only screamed for a minute and hadn’t even thrown anything. She had even apologized for the screaming once Soos and Remy explained the whole situation to her. At the end of it all she was most disgusted that Remy was using their hands to get the peanut butter.
“Sure,” Remy said, grabbing the lasagna out of the fridge. “Do you need any help with the box?”
“I got it,” Melody said, and smiled. “You’ll probably want to take your break now, actually, there’s some mail addressed for you, on the counter–”
Remy perked up, lasagna forgotten, making a beeline for the small package they had previously been ignoring on the counter. It was covered in stamps, a little battered, but it had an impressive weight when Remy picked it up. It was originally from some town in Iceland with a name that Remy had no hope of pronouncing, but they would figure it out later.
“Tell Wendy not to bug me!” They said, holding the package carefully, going up to the attic. “And the word is ‘haggard’!”
They heard Abuelita huff, but ignored it.
They opened the package carefully the second they closed the attic door behind them, determined to save the wrapping with the stamps. Inside wasn’t anything overly adventurous, just a few boxes of what looked like sweets with unfamiliar names, and a baggie of something that looked a little like pieces of pulpy bark. They weren’t looking forward to the gifts, though. Their smile grew when they spotted two postcards nestled deeply in the bottom of the package, one with an exploding volcano, and the other with the aurora borealis stretched over a frozen ocean.
They flipped over the aurora borealis first to read the note on the other side.
Hello Shifty!
Stanley and I have been docked in Iceland a bit longer than we anticipated. Wouldn’t you know it, we ran into some trouble with the citizens of the underwater city of G’ll-Hoo, and had to smooth it over, lest we incite a war between humanity and the Deep Ones. You understand, I’m sure. Most of them are quite lovely and reasonable beings, and share my passion for knowledge, but some of them are still a little skittish around humans. And Stanley imitating their speech didn’t help. Apparently it’s a grave insult.
Anyway, besides that, things have been going well! There’s plenty to study, both natural and supernatural. Why, just yesterday we saw a pod of narwhals as the sun came up! I tried to get a picture, but they all came out quite blurry. I might bring some back anyway. Did you know Stanley thought narwhals were mythical beasts? Incredible creatures, truly. And of course, getting to spend time with Stanley after all this time is beyond a dream come true. Most of the time. He refuses to take out the trash, and then always insists he does it and that it’s actually my turn. Oh well, we haven’t killed each other yet!
By the time you get this, we’ll probably be en route to come home. We should make port in Coos Bay in mid-May, giving us a little bit of time to settle in before the kids come home this summer. They’ve been telling us how excited they are to come back, and I hope we can all have a far more relaxing summer now that the threats to the world have been eliminated. At least as far as I know. Maybe there’s an ancient earth god slowly waking up beneath the earth’s crust. One can only imagine!
We miss you very much, Shifty, and we can’t wait to see you again. We’re both quite literally counting the days until we’re home, though Stanley will never admit it. But he has a little calendar and everything, and you can tell him I said that. Don’t send us a letter–we won’t get it–but feel free to call us at any time! We’d love to hear your voice, and this phone that Fiddleford has built is a godsend!
Take care of yourself, Shifty, we’ll see you soon.
Love,
Dr. Stanford Pines
Immediately, Remy carefully set the postcard aside, flipping the second postcard over to read it.
Mouser, tell Soos to stop calling me everytime he has a question about something with the shack. He has the Internet and he has you so tell him to bug you about it first before he bugs me.
Also whatever Ford tells you is a lie. I didn’t get my ass kicked by those Deep Ones. I took two of them on at once and won which is super impressive because those sons of bitches are HUGE.
Besides that, we’re doing pretty well out here. It’s cold as all hell but we picked up some sweaters (and even paid for most of them) and for once, those things are worth the price. Softest yarn I’ve ever felt. We sent about a truckload of it to Mabel, so hopefully I can look forward to some fancy Icelandic clothes in my near future. This place makes Gravity Falls winters look like a stiff breeze.
I sent you some Icelandic candy. Don’t ask what’s in it, I don’t know, I was trying really hard to understand the girl at the shop, but she wasn’t very good at English, and I don’t know anything in Icelandic. I do know that the other stuff is a dried, salted fish fillet, sort of like beef jerky but not at all. It has a name but I forgot it. I saw it and thought of you, since you love eating strange things. Figured you’d get a kick out of it.
Ford’s probably said this too, but we’re going to be on our way back by the time you get this. Being at sea has been great and all, but we miss home. Also these beds aren’t doing my back any favors. We’ll probably stay at McGucket’s mansion like we did over Thanksgiving and the holidays to conserve room at the shack. Sixer’s pretty happy about it, the sap, and I can’t say I’m angry about sleeping on a million dollar bed. Old coot says there’s a room for you if you ever get sick of a sleepover with the kids in the attic. By the way, McGucket and Ford are definitely a confirmed “thing” now. I heard them talking late at night, gross. Feel free to bother them about it. Just don’t tell Mabel. Not because they don’t want her to know, they just want some relative peace before she starts wedding planning or whatever.
Anyway, in all seriousness, I miss you, kid. I know you’re kicking ass at accounting or whatever, but I worry. I think it’s an old man thing. Take care of yourself until we get back so then we can do it for you, okay? Don’t let McGucket burn the town down. Or Soos. Or Wendy. Just do me a favor and don’t let any of those animals around open flames. Love you, weirdo.
See you sooner than you think,
Stan
Remy smiled, beyond pleased with the news of their up and coming arrival. Their stint from Thanksgiving through New Year’s had felt like a million years ago, especially because Mabel and Dipper weren’t able to join them. Still, it was a lovely time; it was their first time actually celebrating the holidays as opposed to just closing down the shack for the day and watching rented movies because both Remy and Stan always found Christmas films far too saccharine.
Carefully, they gathered up the postcards, and searched for a place to place them.
Since moving back into the attic, Remy’s walls had not stayed blank. They had pasted the collage Dipper had made almost immediately, and from there the collection only grew. Countless postcards littered the wall, taped in a way that Remy could flip the postcard up and reread the message if they wanted to, and they often did. Letters from the kids also covered the walls, usually written on lined paper if it was from Dipper, and bright pink paper if it was from Mabel. Not to mention photos from both of them; of Mabel and Dipper’s cat because Remy asked to see her, of the huge squid that had taken a liking to try and failing to attack the Stan o’ War II, a million laughing faces, and a million more photos of things that most people might call mundane, but Remy treasured like they were worth millions of dollars.
It was hard to imagine ever going back to bare walls now. They didn’t know how they had managed it for all these years. They had even splurged for a larger bed, so they could sleep comfortably in their true form, though they found themselves shifting into small creatures to sleep more often than not, finding that they liked the space they had. The rest of the room was similarly brighter, chasing away any notion that it had once been an isolated place. Gifts and trinkets were everywhere, with star-shaped lights (a Christmakkuh gift, mailed by Mabel) looping between support beams on the ceiling. It was warm in a way Remy could never remember it being, and they had no doubt that was partially thanks to the kids, their presence lingering like ghosts. Shifty still found glitter and post-it notes in places they never would have expected.
They walked around the edge of the decorated wall, finding a miniscule blank space to carefully place the postcards in, right next to a photo of Mabel proudly showing off the makeover she had done on Waddles. He looked like a glam rocker. It wouldn’t be long before they would need to start migrating postcards and letters to other walls, covering the room entirely in a hodgepodge of paper.
They looked over their wall, pleased, and then paused, their gaze falling on a poster Dipper had sent them from a school field trip to a planetarium. An illustration of the solar system, with a flying saucer zooming between the asteroid belt, two smiling green aliens driving it.
The number of people who knew Remy’s origins remained small. Soos, Stanford, and after a quiet conversation over the holidays, Stan, because Remy had wanted to tell him face to face. They never felt ostracized for it.
They were going to tell the kids one day. When they felt ready, though they didn’t think it would be any time soon.
That place, a home, a vessel, a lab, and a crypt all at once, still lay beneath their feet. They tried not to think about it, usually, but it was harder not to these days. They weren’t sure why. Maybe it was that the ground was thawing, and the underground was more accessible than it had been in months. Maybe it was the desire to conquer their fear of the earth, put it behind them. Maybe they were crazy. All options seemed equally likely, especially the last one.
“Remy!” Melody called up. “Are you going to eat this lasagna or can I put it away!”
“Yeah, hang on!” Remy said, blinking a few times, making their way back down the stairs. “I’m eating it!”
*** *** ***
“Yeah, so,” Dipper said, sounding pleased with himself. “The DD&MD club gained, like, four new members. I don’t think Alan is actually that interested, but the other ones are, so I’m starting a new campaign next week.”
“That sounds awesome,” Remy said, phone pressed to their ear. Soos had already spoken with the kids. Now it was their turn. “What’s this campaign about?”
“I dunno yet,” Dipper said. “Probably an evil king. Oh, and Mabel–”
“Sh, no, let me tell him!” Mabel's voice echoed, and Remy winced at the volume. “So remember that math test I was going bananas about?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, Mr. Blake was passing tests back, saying that we all did terrible, yada yada, and I thought I was gonna throw up…but guess what?! I got a hundred! Only A in the class!”
Remy grinned. “That’s great! That’s the one that Stanford was helping you study for, right?”
“Yeah! I’m calling him right after this to tell him, he’s gonna be so excited,” Mabel said, preening a bit. “Dad said we can go to an amusement park when we go to his house this weekend because of it. Even Dipper’s reaping the benefits of my genius.”
“That sounds fun,” Remy said. “And Stanford’ll be happy to know that you did well. He was just telling me about that when we talked the other day.”
“Really?!” Mabel squealed, and then immediately giggled. “Hey, speaking of Grunkle Ford, he’s friends with Mr. McGucket, right?”
Dipper groaned. “Mabel–”
“Sh sh!” She giggled again. “Remy, I don’t suppose you know if they’re just friends, right? Or maybe…more than friends?”
Remy only just kept themselves from laughing. “...I think you should ask Stanford and Fiddleford yourself next time you see them.”
“BUT THAT’S SO FAR AWAY!” She shrieked. “Whatever, I got my answer. Dipper, you owe me ten bucks!”
“No I don’t, that wasn’t a real answer!”
“Okay, hash this out off the phone, okay?” Remy said with a smile, though the kids were already starting to bicker. “I need to go, I’m starving and we got pizza.”
“From the good place?”
“From the good place,” Remy said, and heard the twins ‘ooh’ in jealousy. “Don’t harass Stanford more than necessary, okay? God knows he’s going to get enough of it from Stan. Dipper, let me know how this new campaign goes, alright? I want to try playing and beat you at it when you get here for the summer.”
“It’s not that type of game, it doesn’t have winners or losers–”
“Sounds like something a future loser would say,” Remy said, and grinned when Mabel laughed and Dipper sighed. “Don’t stay up too late, it’s a school night, okay?”
“Okay, mom,” Mabel said, but she didn’t sound annoyed. “Bye, Remy! Love you!”
“Love you!” Dipper added.
“Love you guys too,” Remy said, and the line went quiet a few moments later.
Almost immediately after, they heard the door close. “Pizza’s here!” Soos’ voice echoed through the hall. Abuelita was out at bingo tonight, and Melody was with friends. It was just Soos and Remy, hence the pizza.
Remy morphed back into human shape easily; the chairs at the table were too small for their true form. “Did the kids ask you about Stanford and Fiddleford?” Remy asked, immediately grabbing two slices.
Soos looked confused. “What?”
“Nevermind, forget I asked,” Remy said, already imagining the phone call that Stanford was soon to get. “I think the public access channel is having a marathon of those horror movies that had a budget of six dollars. Want to tune in?”
Soos grinned. “Dude, yeah. Maybe we’ll finally see the vampire one where he can’t stop lisping ‘cause of the fake teeth.”
Remy grinned. “You’d think they would have dubbed it over.”
Soos shrugged, finishing his pizza in about two bites, and Remy frowned, an earlier train of thought coming back to them with no warning. “...do you remember what I said about me?”
“...what?” Soos said, looking utterly perplexed.
“Um,” Remy gestured vaguely. “Like, um. The thing about, you know. Where I’m from.”
“What, the alien stuff?”
“...right,” Remy nodded. “The alien stuff.”
“Yeah, dude, what about it?” Soos asked, reaching for another slice of pizza.
Remy nibbled on their slice, mostly just to keep from answering for a moment. “Well, I just…I’ve been thinking about it lately. And…it doesn’t feel as wrapped up as I thought it was.”
Soos’ eyes widened. “...dude. Do you need to phone home?”
“What?” Remy blinked. “No. I’m not going anywhere. Who would I even phone?”
“Maybe if you made your finger start glowing or something,” Soos suggested.
“I’m not doing that,” Remy said. “I just…I don’t know. I’m worried that if I go looking, I’ll find out something else terrible, and it’ll…I don’t know. Completely upend my life again or something. I’m tired of that. Like if I go looking for answers again I’ll just wish I didn’t all over again.”
“I dunno,” Soos said. “I know it was, like, super scary and stuff when you did discover it, and you were crying like crazy–”
“I wasn’t crying that much-”
“-but are you glad you know now?” Soos asked. “That, like, you could put your questions to bed and stuff?”
“...I don’t know,” Remy said. “I…it changes, day to day. What I think. I…I guess I’m glad I know now, but what if there’s something worse?”
“What’s the worst thing that’ll happen?” Soos asked, and Remy almost laughed. The question felt like dangling an open wound over shark infested waters. And the sharks were always hungry.
“...I honestly don’t know,” Remy said quietly.
“...uh,” Soos said, looking unsure. “Then what’s the best thing that could happen?”
“...prove I’m not scared of something?” Remy said slowly. “Get some more answers?”
Soos was quiet for a moment, and even set down a slice of pizza. “Like, what do you want me to say, dog?”
“What?” Remy asked.
“‘Cause, like,” Soos said. “It sounds like this is something you want to do, but you’re just nervous to do it and kinda hoping I’ll push you one way or another.”
Remy groaned. “Is it that obvious?”
“Dude,” Soos said. “I’m not gonna tell you what to do or whatever. But honestly? It seems like you already made up your mind.”
Remy said nothing for a moment, staring at the pizza.
“...I mean, did you?” Soos asked.
“...yeah,” Remy said slowly. “I…I guess. I think I’m just a little reluctant to…you know. Actually do it. But…I don’t think I’ll be able to get it out of my head until I do.”
Soos grinned. “See? I knew you already figured it out.”
They nodded once, more than a little nervous, but set. Soos was right; it was going to go like this one way or another. They just needed a little time to convince themselves.
“...if I’m not back home by dinner after I leave tomorrow,” Remy said. “Call Fiddleford and tell him I’m trapped in the spaceship under the town.”
“...what?”
*** *** ***
They shivered in the cold, even with the shining sun, standing in Farmer Sprott’s field, staring at a rock that they knew had been strategically placed to hide the emptiness beneath.
Remy hadn’t expected the knee-jerk, terrible dread building in their stomach as they started at the hidden hatch. They were still half-certain this was a terrible idea; it wasn’t like their backup plan was all that well conceived, and they probably could have stood to be a little more transparent with what they were trying to accomplish with Soos.
They might have been staring for hours, or maybe just minutes. It was hard to tell. But their head was spinning a little, their nerves frayed already. The idea of voluntarily venturing into the underground felt ludicrous, even now, and they could only imagine what their past self might have thought of this idea. Hell, their present self wasn’t all that onboard.
With shaking hands, they pushed the rock back, and opened the hatch, staring into the darkness below. Not their first abyss, and probably not even their last. It was a habit, at this point, getting into trouble. They suspected it was a Pines thing.
“Hello?” They called out into the hatch, and nothing answered except their own echo. For some reason it made them sick with fear.
They leaned away, gulping almost-spring air. A not-insignificant part of their mind pleaded with them to close the hatch and do their best to ignore their loose threads, to move forward with a couple mysteries left. It wasn’t as though they had ever gotten rid of the pool of anxiety, not really. It was just easier to swim through these days.
They took a long breath, rubbing their knuckles over their chest, almost hard enough to hurt. Their scar felt stiff, but not painful.
Some things they were content to leave as mysteries. But some things demanded answers. Some things deserved answers.
“You’re fine,” they whispered to themselves, not entirely sure if it was true or not. “You’re okay.”
They took one more deep breath, and then turned into a sticky-fingered frog, beginning to climb down the hatch.
Getting back into the ship was easier than they imagined when they weren’t being pursued. It still made it terrifying.
The place still smelled the same, the terrible artificial stench mixed with ingrained rot, and Remy nearly gagged. Lights still flickered as their movements activated the sensors, but they were sickly now, jaundiced and nearly useless. No voices, known or unknown, echoed through the halls now. They almost wished they would–they might take comfort in Stanford and Dipper’s clueless wonder now, unaware of the massacre site they explored.
Their trail from the previous visit was easy to follow; a hole in the ship, and then straight ahead, lights weakly following them along. Once they reached the bottom, they shifted into their human form, and then changed their mind, relaxing into their true shape, figuring they were a little past the point of human formalities.
“Hello?” Remy called out, waiting for their voice to be echoed back. Nothing answered. They weren’t sure if it was better or worse that it was quiet. They crept down the hall, wincing slightly with each new patch of illumination, half-expecting something to leap out at them. Nothing did, and it didn’t help their fear in the slightest, especially when the opening to a new room became illuminated.
To their left, an opening into a room covered in screens, and they couldn’t make themselves step inside.
“...hello?” They called again, and the screens flickered weakly, illuminating the room well enough that they could just barely see inside. A panel on the wall opened, and a mechanical arm with a camera-like apparatus appeared, movements slow and stuttering.
It blinked at Remy several times, and even with no expression, Remy got the impression it was shocked.
“...so,” N.A.S, a supercomputer turned tomb guardian, said in an automated voice that was almost snarling. “Some part of you sees sense.”
“What?” Remy asked, still refusing to step inside and resisting the temptation to flee.
“You’ve returned to the only place for you,” N.A.S said, its voice weak and creaky. “You managed to evade me during our previous visit, but now you understand. There is no place for you in the world above, there is only darkness, and now you’ve returned to–”
“You let me out,” Remy said, before they could think better of it.
The camera blinked again. “...I did not.”
Something about N.A.S voice, unsteady, emboldened them. “...you did,” Remy nodded. “I-I was pleading, screaming to be let out because my friend was about to die, and you stopped…you stopped responding, and I thought that was it, and then…and then suddenly the door opened. I thought it was a mistake at first, but then a…another hatch appeared. And I saw light. I could breathe air, even though it tasted like blood all over again. I thought it was a trick or something, but…but it wasn’t.”
“...it was a mistake,” N.A.S said, quiet.
“I don’t believe you,” Remy said.
N.A.S said nothing, and Remy took a deep, slow breath, trying to build their courage. “What are you–” N.A.S started, and then went abruptly silent when Remy stepped inside the room.
They tensed, still half-expecting the doors to close behind them, and all the oxygen to immediately leave the room. But nothing happened. The flickering of weak screens continued. The whirring of overtaxed machinery got louder, like a robotic gasp of surprise.
“...you are incredibly stupid,” N.A.S said.
“Thanks,” Remy said.
“...I could not trap you now,” N.A.S admitted reluctantly. “My capabilities have diminished greatly since we last spoke. The dregs of whatever power I collected are running very low.”
“Would you trap me?” Remy asked. “If you could? Would you kill me?”
N.A.S said nothing, the camera eye staring endlessly.
“...you let me go,” Remy insisted. “...why?”
“...one of my crew,” N.A.S said after a long moment of silence. “Died like you would have. Pharetta, throwing herself against a door that could not be opened to the point of injury, pleading to be let out. I…could not open it. I had been too damaged to retain consistent control over most doorways. I could not even work the intercom inside the hall. I could not tell her I was sorry. I couldn’t call out to her as the monster killed her.”
“They all died,” N.A.S said slowly. “All of them, one by one, bit by bit. Some died pleading. Some died in pain. But they all died scared. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. Just aid in helping crash the ship when it came down to it. I failed. I failed my crew and my mission.”
Remy said nothing, feeling queasy. The stench of death was stronger than it had ever been, and they didn’t doubt it was from their own mind.
“...an automatic distress signal was sent, of course,” N.A.S said. “And there is no answer in the log. No one came back for us. I doubt anyone of importance ever saw it. We were too late. Their people–no, my people, are gone. There is no one left to remember them but me.”
N.A.S hesitated, just for a moment. “...I saw them in you, when you wanted to save your friend. The fear and desperation all over again, panicked at the thought of death but all the more panicked at the thought of watching loved ones die. I…I thought I could stand it again. For the greater good. But I have failed once more.”
“...I’m not the other one,” Remy said quietly. “Not…not FH-029. I’m–” they paused, suddenly a little bemused. “...I don’t think I ever told you my name.”
“It does not matter if you are not FH- 029,” N.A.S said. “You are of the same purpose. Not a species. Not a people. A purpose. You were meant to bring pain, misery, and mass death. You cannot change your purpose–”
“But I did change!” Remy protested, unable to stay quiet any longer. “I did! I’m not that! I’m not FH-029, I’m not JH-935, I’m not a monster. My name is Remy. Some people still call me Shifty. I have a family, in the sun. And…and maybe you’re right, maybe things would have been different if it all went according to your plan, if I was raised like I was supposed to be. But maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe I would still change. But I’m not evil. I’m not an animal. I’m not a weapon. Whatever it means, for whatever it’s worth, I’m a person.”
“...you are merely changing again,” N.A.S said, though it sounded uncertain. “It is in your nature to change, to adapt to the environment. Perhaps it is even an instinct to ignore your violent nature, in the presence of others.”
“But other people do that, too,” Remy said. “They can be cruel and terrible and hurt each other, sometimes without even meaning to. It’s an instinct. But they don’t have to be like that. They can change. I’ve seen it. Your people didn’t make me who I am. They did. My family and friends. For better and worse. I decide my nature. Not what your people wrote on a lab report.”
N.A.S said nothing, camera staring right through Remy, searching for something they couldn’t see.
“...and if you really believed I couldn’t be something more than a murderer,” Remy said. “You would never have let me out.”
“...I failed in releasing you,” N.A.S said, defiant but losing the argument badly. “I went against my programming.”
Remy shrugged. “It just…sounds like you changed too, then.”
N.A.S went quiet for a long time, long enough that Remy worried that it might have shut down. But then it did speak, and its voice almost sounded frightened. “...my systems are failing once more. When I shut down this time…I will not turn back on.”
“...I’m sorry,” Remy said, and they meant it.
“....I do not–” the screens flickered, almost like a stutter. “If possible, I…should like to terminate on my own terms, instead of waiting to drain away, feeling myself wither away slowly piece by piece. I just…I don’t wish to die underground.”
“Are you asking me to take you outside?” Remy asked, more than a little surprised.
“...if you are unable or unwilling,” N.A.S said. “I will not be surprised, nor will I hold it against you.”
They could imagine dying here. They almost had, after all. The fear, the certainty of their own horrifying demise came back to them immediately, and their heart began to thud dangerously just from the memory.
They didn’t think anyone deserved to die like that.
“...I can do it,” Remy decided. “I think…I think I might need some help, though.”
*** *** ***
They had never been to the Northwest Manor, but they had been to Fiddleford’s house many times. They refused to call it the Hootenanny Hut.
The sun was starting to set when Remy knocked on the door, even colder than they had been in the afternoon, the temperature dropping as it got darker. They could have grabbed a coat when they checked in at the shack, especially since they walked around town in their human shape, but their skin prickled at the thought of clothes today. Though now, as the wind bit at them, they were starting to regret it.
The door creaked open, and Fiddleford’s head popped out from behind the door, apparently equally reluctant to face the cold. All the same, his face split into a happy smile when he saw who stood on his icy doorstep. “Remy! Ain’t seen you in a minute!”
“Hi,” Remy said. “Sorry, it’s been busy at the shack lately. I don’t know why, the weather’s miserable.”
“Ain’t so bad,” Fiddleford said. “It’s kinda cozy. You gonna come in or do you wanna turn into a popsicle?”
“Ha-ha,” Remy said dully, but still ducked inside, relieved by the warmth emanating from inside the mansion.
Even with Fiddleford’s meager possessions upon move-in, he had immediately transformed the manor into his own. Tools and half-finished projects lay scattered across the massive foyer, though it seemed more like organized chaos here as opposed to the bonafide hoarding it had been in his hut in the dump. Most of the projects seemed to be robots, probably planned to do some menial task that Fiddleford found tedious or annoying. Though it was equally likely he planned to blow them up in interesting and creative ways.
“Been busy?” Remy asked, going back to their base form when the door closed.
“Ah, you know,” Fiddleford said. “Passing time, mostly. You got a letter from Ford and Stan? I got myself a letter yesterday.”
Remy nodded. “I got a package and some postcards. They were in Iceland, but they’re on their way back now.”
“So I heard,” Fiddleford smiled again. “It’ll be nice to have ‘em back.”
“Stan told me not to let you set the town on fire,” Remy said, and Fiddleford scoffed like it wasn’t an understandable concern. “And Mabel knows, by the way.”
He blinked. “Mabel knows what?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Remy said lightly, and Fiddleford frowned, looking a little worried. “Listen, I…okay, I don’t want it to seem like I’m only here because I need something from you, because I’m not, I did genuinely want to say hello. I just–”
“You also need something,” Fiddleford finished, and Remy winced.
“Just…help with something,” they said weakly. “Which you don’t have to help with if you don’t want to, it’s not life or death.” Not technically, anyway.
“What is it?” Fiddleford asked.
“It…” Remy trailed off, suddenly acutely aware that Fiddleford didn’t know their origins. They did plan to tell him, just as they planned to with Mabel and Dipper, but they found that the idea of it suddenly made them deeply uncomfortable now that they were confronted with it. “Um. It’s complicated.”
But Fiddleford was staring at them, waiting patiently, and if they didn’t speak soon, he would get worried, and that would spark a whole conversation that they just didn’t want to do.
“You know the spaceship under the valley?” Remy blurted out.
Fiddleford’s mouth dropped open. “Y-you–?! Since when have you known about that?!”
“You remember that?!” Remy asked, equally surprised.
“It’d be kinda hard to forget!” Fiddleford said, and Remy (rather graciously, in their opinion) refrained from making a comment. “How’d you find it?!”
“On accident, mostly,” Remy said. “It has a pretty strong smell. I hid there for a few hours or so when Weirdmageddon first started. I kind of fell through the floor.”
Fiddleford blinked. “...oh?”
“There’s a computer down there,” Remy said. “It’s attached to the navigation systems, but it’s independent of that now. It can talk, think…maybe even feel, I’m not sure. But it’s…dying, more or less. It turned back on after Stan and I started up the portal. I guess the residual energy was enough to kickstart the systems, but now it’s powering down again. And it…it wants to see the sky.”
They took a quick breath. “It’s not possible to bring the whole system up, but…I was hoping to get, like, the mainframe or whatever out aboveground. I don’t know how to do it myself but…I thought you might.”
Fiddleford hummed, his expression a little difficult to read behind his glasses. “...and…why’s this mean so much to you?”
Remy swallowed hard, feeling a little sick again. “Um…it’s complicated.”
Fiddleford just looked at them, and Remy wriggled. “I…I can’t tell you. I mean, I can, I just…I don’t think I’m ready to. Yet. If that…even makes any sense.”
Fiddleford said nothing for a moment, and Remy nearly winced. They themselves certainly wouldn’t agree to help in a plan like this, especially if the reasoning for it was as vague as the reasons they were giving.
“...and it ain’t gonna hurt no one?” Fiddleford said. “Or you?”
Remy blinked, surprised, and then immediately shook their head. “No, it’s not…I’m not keeping anything dangerous from you. Promise.”
Fiddleford hummed again, thinking, and then shrugged. “Yeah, alright.”
“What?” Remy asked. “You–really?!”
“Sure,” Fiddleford said. “I trust you. Just gimme a minute to find my tool bag and we can go.”
“Wha–now?” Remy asked. “It’ll be dark soon. Don’t old people go to bed at seven thirty?”
Fiddleford scowled. “I ain’t that old.”
“So the Santa Claus beard is just for show?”
“You hush now.”
*** *** ***
Fiddleford’s toolbag clinked cheerfully in the crashed ship, making it slightly less terrifying than it had been on the last few trips Remy had taken into it.
“Never been down in these parts, I don’t think,” Fiddleford said, visibly struggling not to examine every part of the ship’s machinery. “Kinda fuzzy, though.”
“I don’t think you were down here,” Remy said. “I fell through the floor, after all.”
They hesitated for only a split second at the doorway, and then stepped inside the computer room. The screens looked even dimmer than they had earlier today. N.A.S was right; they were fading.
“You have returned,” N.A.S said hesitantly, sounding a little surprised. “I did not expect–oh?”
Fiddleford poked his head in, his face lighting up when he saw the massive computer. “God-damn, critter, you weren’t lying ‘bout how big it is.”
“This is…” N.A.S. trailed off for a moment. “This is the human that you said could help?”
Remy nodded, and the monitor stuttered. “...is this a typical member of the human species?”
“No,” Fiddleford and Remy said at the same time.
N.A.S’s camera blinked.
“But he’s smart,” Remy said quickly. “He knows way more about computers and stuff than I do. He’ll be able to get the important parts of you detached so we can go outside. We can’t take everything.”
The camera whirred, and Fiddleford grinned, looking maybe slightly more confident than he should have been in the face of alien technology. N.A.S’s machinery made a noise that sounded a little like a sigh. “...alright,” it said. “I suppose…I haven’t got anything to lose.”
Fiddleford’s grin widened, and he dumped his tools onto the ground like a child emptying a toybox. He almost immediately set to work, and Remy’s eyes went to the skeleton still draped over the control panel.
All traces of life, save for the bones, had already rotted away. The skull rested against a filthy keyboard, mouth wrenched open like their last words had only been halfway out of their throat before their death. A hand, four-fingered, stretched across the panels, reaching for something that could no longer save them.
Stanford had told them, once, that very few species in the multiverse had six fingers. Most had four or five, or jumped straight to seven. He probably hadn’t meant anything by it, just thought he was sharing a fun fact, but Remy found it strangely lonely.
“...who was that?” Remy asked quietly, motioning to the skeleton.
Fiddleford looked confused, taking apart a massive monitor, but N.A.S whirred. “That was Arcuseo. He was second-in-command pilot, and worked closely with the head pilot and navigator. He was not very good at this job. But he was friendly. He always had a joke. Everyone liked him.”
Remy nodded slowly, unsure what else to do. “...I’m sorry.”
N.A.S said nothing, and neither did Fiddleford, though the latter looked thoughtful. Maybe he was putting puzzle pieces together. Remy wasn’t sure how they felt about that, but it wasn’t as though they could stop him.
“Think I got it,” Fiddleford said, and Remy glanced back, surprised.
“So quick?” They asked, and Fiddleford shrugged.
“Gonna lose a lot of data, but…well, can’t take it with you, you know? Got life support functions here–” he used a screwdriver to lightly tap a small, silvery box, about the size of an ottoman. “-and I can attach the camera lickety split. You’ll have to carry the box, critter, ain’t no way I can.”
“That’s alright,” Remy said. “Can I get it now?”
Fiddleford nodded, and Remy reached down and grabbed the box, grunting with the weight of it. It was much heavier than it looked.
Something detached from behind the box; thin wires that Remy hadn’t previously seen. The screens flickered and went dark.
Remy’s heart skipped several beats. “Um, Fiddleford–”
“I cannot see,” N.A.S said, but their voice echoed from the box. Remy nearly dropped it.
“Ain’t attached the camera yet,” Fiddleford said. He went to N.A.S’s camera arm–now slumped over weakly and dead with nothing to power it–and carefully detached it, stuffing it in his bag. “Don’t worry none, I’ll do it when we get outside. It’ll be hard to maneuver with it attached.”
Getting back outside was harder than it was getting in. Fiddleford had set up an overcomplicated pulley system big enough to get them all back above the ground, but the thing that now contained N.A.S was heavy and difficult to get down the hallways. All the same, eventually the pulley system groaned as it spat Fiddleford, Remy, and N.A.S back out into the night.
Remy instantly took a deep breath of the fresh night air, relieved even though the cold instantly made them wince, especially in their true form. The box was warm, humming softly with rapidly depleting energy, and Remy hugged it closer.
“Hang on now…” Fiddleford said, zipping up his coat and rifling through his toolbag for a dainty little screwdriver. With expert hands, he affixed the camera back to N.A.S, and it whirred to life, blinking several times, almost surprised.
It looked up. “Oh.”
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and Remy could see stars scattered across the blackness, like the glitter that still stuck stubbornly to countertops back home. They flickered, diamond-like, and Remy could see a few planets. They wondered if one of the stars was N.A.S’s home, lifeless but not lightless.
“Yeah,” Remy agreed quietly. “It’s nice. Thank you, Fiddleford.”
Fiddleford waved his hand vaguely. “Ain’t no trouble.”
A gust of wind blew across the exposed hill, and both Remy and Fiddleford shivered. Remy nearly hugged N.A.S, finding relief in the heat from the machinery, but Fiddleford looked uncomfortable.
“You can go home, if you want,” Remy told him. “You helped. Thank you so much.”
Fiddleford frowned. “Don’t wanna leave you out here.”
“I’ll be fine,” Remy said. “It’s not that cold. I’ll go home when…when it’s done. Tate’ll kill me if you get sick and he finds out it was my fault.”
Fiddleford shuffled, a little unsure. “...I can stay here if you need me critter, ain’t no trouble–”
“I’m okay,” Remy said quietly. “Really. I…”
They took a breath. “I’ll…we’ll talk later. I promise.”
Fiddleford still looked a little unsure, but he trusted Remy. After a moment, he nodded, and gathered up his tools, still a little reluctant. “...if you change your mind,” Fiddleford said. “You know where to find me.”
“Thank you,” Remy said, and meant it.
N.A.S did not say a word, so hyperfocused on the stars that it was a little unsettling.
Somewhere in the woods, owls spoke to each other in low tones, fluffing their feathers for warmth. A few scrappy coyotes yelled at each other over bones, mostly for the fun of it. No summer sounds yet; crickets and cicadas would be here soon enough, and with them, the rest of their family.
“Do you miss them?” Shifty asked N.A.S quietly, realizing that they were the only breathing being on this hill now that Fiddleford had left. “Your crew?”
“...very much,” N.A.S said, never taking its eyes off the sky. “I do not think I realized I did until very recently. I was not programmed to grieve for them. But I do. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I am merely changing.”
“Maybe,” Remy said, and then, suddenly a little uneasy: “And…that’s good? For both of us?”
“...I believe so,” N.A.S said. “I think we are beings with new purposes. For however long those purposes last.”
Remy nodded. “...yeah. Maybe.”
They weren’t sure how long they sat in the cold, warmed by a dying supercomputer, watching the earth spin as the stars shifted and moved across the sky in a predetermined path, too slowly to notice, too fast to stop. They had looked the same thirty million years ago for the things that lived here, as well as the visitors, connecting Remy’s story through so much time, but very little space. They had come so far to be here, in this freezing cold moment in the March night, and now, they couldn’t imagine wishing to be anywhere else.
Or anyone else.
They almost didn’t notice the sky was turning from black to gray, it happened so slowly. But they felt the tiniest bit of warmth on their back, and whirled around, pulling N.A.S with them to face east.
“What are you–”
“Just wait,” Remy whispered. “Watch the horizon.”
They looked up, and saw that the darkness they had emerged in had disappeared, replaced with an open sky and a moon in the shape of a toenail, slowly disappearing as something happened to the sky. The edge of the horizon turned pink, like a soft blush, spread across the sky like rosy fingers, chasing away the gray and turning it blue as the pink receded.
The horizon bloomed orange, and the red, and then the most brilliant gold they had ever seen in their life as something appeared over the edge of the line where land met sky. They squinted, unable to look at it directly but trying anyway, fascinated with the mixing and melting colors that put everything that they had ever seen before to shame.
Sunrise, at last.
“...the sun back home doesn’t look like this,” N.A.S said. “It’s beautiful.”
It is, Remy thought.
They heard something flutter, and looked to their left, surprised to see a small bird, fearless and searching the grass for breakfast. It was fluffed up to protect against the cold, but Remy would have known what it was anywhere.
“That’s a robin,” they said quietly.
The sun crested over the edge of the horizon, and Remy felt it on their face. “N.A.S?” Remy asked. “Did you want to see something else?”
N.A.S did not answer.
“...N.A.S?” Remy said, and realized the box had gone cold. The camera was lying uselessly limp, still affixed on the sun. Remy could see the gold reflecting off the lens.
The robin opened its mouth, and started to sing.
Remy stood up slowly, suddenly cold, a powerful emotion tinged with grief stirring in their chest. It felt a little to the left of relief, too, in a strange way.
Nothing more for them lay hidden in the earth, now. They had excavated it, brought it to the light, and let it find something that looked a lot like peace. It was a strange feeling. They suspected they still might be coughing up dirt for years to come, in some way or another. They felt like they were doing it now, even.
But in the early morning sun, with birds singing for them, it seemed far more doable.
They stared at N.A.S, at a loss for what to do. N.A.S was out of the earth too, freed forever. This seemed like a good enough place to rest. A forgotten hill where a cow or sheep might come to say hello, and a sunrise to greet it every morning until it became a part of the landscape itself.
“You’ll like it here,” Remy told N.A.S quietly. “I promise.”
Remy knew what a dangerous thing a promise could be. But in the dawn, with the robin still singing its little heart out, they could take it for what it was. They thought that N.A.S would too.
They stepped back, looking over the town from the hill, awash in golden light, just beginning to wake up. It wasn’t as cold as it was yesterday. In fact, they were pretty sure they were seeing some courageous flowers poking their heads out of the ground, fearless as ever.
It was going to be a beautiful day.
“Bye, N.A.S,” Remy said, in almost a whisper. “I’ll see you later.”
And they turned, walking down the hill to go back home. Soos, Abuelita, and Melody would be worried if they weren’t there before breakfast was over, and they hated to see their family upset.
All around them, the robins kept singing, ushering in spring and the end of the darkness, their heads pointed towards the glorious sun.