Chapter Text
Stand. Shake hands. Smile. Speak briefly. Listen closely. Charm them. Repeat. Don’t frown. Don’t ramble. Feel no compassion. You aren’t like the others. But you are not the machine, you are just a mechanism within it. You are replaceable. But that will slow down the machine. So don’t fail. Stand. Shake hands. Smile. Speak briefly. Listen closely. Charm them. Repeat.
Dipper stood up slowly from his chair, trying his best not to step on the much too long white cloth draped over his chair and dragging across the polished wood floors. He couldn’t take too long trying to be graceful though, he could practically hear his Grunkle Ford nagging in his ear about how awkward that would look.
“Ah, well if it isn’t Stanely’s nephew!” Dipper swiftly pivoted, being acutely aware of the loud squeak of his oxfords. Preston Northwest, the host of the lascivious party that seemed to be more about flaunting his wealth than celebrating his recent business merger. Not tonight's target of interest, thank god. Dipper didn’t think he’d been able to handle listening in on the man’s incessant bragging of his recently obtained renaissance era art collection or the Marquise-cut diamond ring he had gotten his wife for their anniversary. Still, Dipper knew better than to seem anything but gracious yet firm – an attitude that he knew would blend in with the countless other men at the party – and smiled at the man, outstretching his hand and shaking the others firmly.
“My my, it’s been one too many moons since I’ve seen you my boy. And how you’ve grown too, who would’ve known old Stanely could raise such respectable and intelligent young gentlemen!” Mr. Northwest laughed and Dipper took that as a cue to laugh along with him, his eyes ever-so-slightly shifting around him to observe his surroundings.
“Thank you Mr. Northwest, I assure you neither me nor my Grunkle quite understand how I turned out the way I did.” He took a small sip from his champagne glass just so he could have something to do, before immediately remembering why it was still full, the overwhelmingly sweet liquid made his head spin. “Marvelous party by the way, Stan wanted to thank you for your invitation in person but his arthritis has recently flared with this recent snowstorm and all, thought it would be appropriate to send me rather than run the risk of being perceived as ungrateful.”
Preston furrowed his brow and his mouth twisted into a short frown of clearly staged concern. “Ah well, I certainly hope he finds himself recovering soon. This snow has made all of us miserable, let us hope the upcoming spring months are even more floral to compensate.” Dipper silently agreed, Gravity Falls looked so beautiful in the spring plus all this snow was making documenting the forest and its inhabitants much more difficult. “In all honesty, I am slightly relieved to see you here tonight. Firstly, however, I trust you are still a bachelor, correct?”
Dipper’s smile strained, feeling suddenly very embarrassed. “Yes, I’ve been focusing on my studies. It's very hard to study the sciences and find a wife at the same time.”
“Ah of course! Trust me, that degree will pay off in the long run when it comes to finding a wife!” He internally cringed at the thought, however well-intentioned it was. “Well, perfect. Because you see, my daughter Pacifica, well, we’ve been hoping to help her catch the eye of this visiting Duke from Austria, but she’s been having difficulty finding a dance partner to help present her in a party crowd filled with married men. Would you mind accompanying her on the first dance?”
God he hated dancing. The very thought of being stared at as he awkwardly shuffled around with Pacifica of all people made him want to bury himself alive. “Of course.” Dipper smiled, not wanting to burn any bridges that might come of use to him later.
Dipper half-heartedly listened to Preston’s relieved expressions of thanks and took the time Preston took to guide him across the ballroom floor and towards the balcony to inspect the room. It was densely populated with men in sharp-fitting suits and women with elegant ball gowns or evening dresses with the occasional flapper dress that made him smile, his thoughts drifting to Mabel. The duke that Preston seemed so obsessed over was leaning against a wall with a bored expression on his face, Dipper’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he briefly remembered the array of crimes that had been linked to the man.
Pacifica Northwest could be described as a lot of things, with lots of colorful language being included, however, although Dipper would never outwardly admit it, deep in the confines of his mind even he recognized that the woman was breathtakingly beautiful. With platinum blonde hair that reached her mid-back that had been lightly curled and her piercingly blue eyes, she was the only woman at the party that caught the attention of others by her personal appearance, rather than her fashion choices, opinions, or connections.
“Father!” She turned around, her smile falling when she saw Dipper. “Mason.” She said curtly, before pushing past him all together.
Pacifica Northwest could also be described as a bitch.
“Pacifica.” He replied dryly.
“Really father? Him? Stan’s nobody nephew was the best you could find?” Pacifica huffed, speaking as if Dipper wasn’t a foot away from her. A small twinge of insecurity shot through Dipper, but he quickly buried such feelings; he refused to feel self-conscious by Pacifica of all people. But dear god was it hard for him to bite his tongue and smile along, not wanting to seem anything other than ungentlemanly in front of Preston.
“Pacifica!” The man’s face reddened, quickly turning to Dipper to mumble apologies and insist to Pacifica that she let him escort her to the floor where couples were beginning to sway with one another as the string ensemble tuned their instruments. She merely rolled her eyes before tentatively placing his arm on his arm and guiding him back to the dance floor.
“God, I can’t believe I’m being escorted out by the village tart of all people.” She sighed, her voice laced with disgust.
Dipper frowned. “Hey, I’ll have you know I very much am drawn to women,” he paused, “I just…also enjoy the company of the occasional man. I’m sure you would understand of all people, Pacifica,” He glanced over his shoulder, his voice going low, “I’ve seen the way you look at my sister.”
Pacifica’s face flushed red from either anger or embarrassment, Dipper couldn’t tell. She stepped on his foot, “Shush! This is no place for your foolishness.” She rolled her eyes, before looking back at Dipper, a hint of sincerity and genuine concern in her eyes, “How has she been recovering from the accident? I trust not too well since you are taking up her job tonight in her place.”
Dipper frowned, “She’s recovering, just not yet in the condition to move abruptly without pain.” He paused, “I would like to see you try to recover in three weeks from seven shots to your abdomen. I for one think Mabel is doing fantastically. With or without her little Llama.” He smiled at Pacifica’s frustration with him.
“God, you are so vague.” She groaned, noticeably ignoring Dipper’s allusion to his relations with Mabel, “What are you even doing here tonight? This is supposed to be a set-up to get me a rich husband, not a playground for violent imbeciles.”
Dipper chose not to answer her question, instead, taking her to the dance floor, swinging her with the little grace that he had. “Well, it’s not our fault you don’t know how to background check your guest list.” He whispered in her ear, sarcasm dripping from his voice, his eyes locked in on the nervous shifting of the duke as he dipped her.
“Speaking of which,” he forced himself to smile as he raised her, the music ending for the briefest of moments, “I believe my work here is done. The duke has been staring at you throughout this entire movement.” He bowed before her, grabbing her hand and raising it to kiss it gently on the hand, innerly recoiling as he acted, “And be careful, your dance partner doesn’t have the best of track records. Couldn’t have my sister’s little girlfriend dying on me. Or worse, trying to bill me for any damages.”
Before she could respond Dipper released her and began walking the opposite way, his eyes lingering on the duke, a dull looking man with dull boring features, casually approaching Pacifica who stood confused and frustrated in the center of the dance floor.
He walked toward the garden balcony, hoping that a breath of fresh air would help him ease the tension. It was his very first independent, undercover mission. Although it was low stakes he couldn’t help but feel the pressure to perform perfectly, worrying for his family being punished by the machine if he made any mistakes.
“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” Dipper jumped, turning around defensively to face the voice. “Aw no need to get so worked up darling.”
Before him stood quite possibly, the most handsome man that Dipper had ever seen. He was tall, broad shouldered, with bronze skin and muscle carefully sculpted that brought the distant marble statues of Greek Gods scattered across the garden to shame. He had dirty blonde hair and amber eyes that were filled with mischief and curiosity that made Dipper’s heart race. And based on the elegant uniform he wore, Dipper could quickly tell that he was someone of relative importance, coming from a background of wealth and privilege, which made Dipper making himself known to the man ever more risky.
“Y-yeah” He stammered, ignoring the man’s playful remark, “Nice clear night, you can even make out some constellations.”
The man’s demeanor changed from one of playfulness and mischief to one of wonder and eagerness, “Really?” He walked forward next to Dipper and stood close enough for Dipper to feel the warmth of his body and the way he softly gasped, pointing to the night sky, “The big Dipper.” He smiled gently, “That’s my favorite constellation.”
Dipper felt himself redden at the man’s comment, trying to calm his heartbeat, fearing that the man could feel the erratic pulse of his body from beside him, “It’s a bit of a basic constellation to call your favorite.” He mumbled.
The man turned to look at Dipper again, “Oh?” He laughed, and for a small moment Dipper thanked the stars for their closeness, relishing the warmth and gentle vibrations of the mysterious man who stood next to him, “I’ll have you know I have my reasons, silly starboy.” He teased, “but that’s a topic for a different night.” He turned to face Dipper completely, their chests touching together as they stood intimately, dangerously close. “Name’s Bill Cipher, my folks are close friends with the Northwests.” He grinned at Dipper’s red face, “And what might your name be, sweetheart?”
Dipper awkwardly smiled, trying to hide the inner panic in his head. On one hand, he rarely had a handsome man be so open and flirtatious towards him, and he wanted nothing more than to make his reciprocation of Bill’s advances clear. On the other hand, it wasn’t unheard of for enemies to use flirtation as a method of destruction, and if Pacifica was keen enough to pick up on his attraction to men, he wouldn’t be surprised if others who had been paying much closer attention to him had as well.
“Why do you ask?” Dipper smiled politely but didn’t attempt to hide the defensive shift in his demeanor.
“Woah now doll face,” An amused smile danced on Bill’s face, a reaction that Dipper wasn’t entirely sure how to react to. Those amber eyes squinted ever so slightly, yet retained their curious and flirtatious gleam. “No need to shrink away, I ain’t gonna bite. Not unless you beg anyway.” Dipper turned to face the garden with a scowl, hoping to hide the slight blush that was forming on his face in spite of his better judgement. Bill just laughed at the sight. “Why darling, don’t hide that pretty red face from me now.”
“Y-you’re going to draw attention if you keep being so…foward.” Dipper mumbled, fiddling with the cuffs of his suit. Dipper’s eyes briefly flickered up to Bill’s own, and Dipper allowed his genuine emotion to creep into them for the first time that night as they locked gazes. “And as an acquaintance of Mr. Northwest, you should know that he would be absolutely disgusted by the words clumsily falling out of your mouth, at a party hosted at his venue nonetheless.”
Dipper hadn’t lied; Preston Northwest was well-known throughout Gravity Falls for refusing services and even reporting to the machine of any person he even suspected to be queer. It was the reason why Pacifica hadn’t visited Mabel yet and was instead currently waltzing with a Duke from overseas, hiding her true feelings on ink and paper that only herself, Mabel, and briefly Dipper as he delivered the letters, would ever touch.
“‘Clumsily falling out of my mouth?’” Bill chuckled, but he relented to Dipper’s words slightly by taking a step back from Dipper and leaning against the balustrade. “I can assure you, my mouth moves in calculated precision. In more ways than one.” He gave Dipper a sly wink.
“Oh don’t be lewd. It’s just an expression.”
“Not an expression I’ve ever heard before.”
“Well maybe that’s a sign you should read some more.” Dipper snipped, immediately regretting doing so. He was here to gather information about the Duke and any possible information about DREAM, a rising vigilante group that Grunkle Ford was convinced was trying to infiltrate and destroy the machine. He was not here to banter with some man and get his guard down, especially not at a Northwest party.
“Sorry, some of us are too busy going on actual adventures to laze around and read about them.” Bill grinned. “You’re awfully sheltered….Pine Tree? I’m going to call you Pine Tree for now.” He gestured to the Pine Tree pin Mabel had gotten him for his birthday last year. “Suits you.”
Dipper rolled his eyes. “My name’s Dipper.”
Bill’s eyes lit up. “Oh no wonder you got so flustered when I told you the Dipper was my favorite constellation sapling.”
“Sapling?”
“Felt like sticking with the Pine Tree theme. Plus it’s less attention grabbing than darling and you do want to stay on the down low right?” Bill chuckled, pulling a cigarette out from his suit pocket. “Want a light?”
Dipper shook his head, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as unashamed as you, Mr. Cipher. You ought to be more careful around people you’ve just met. Gravity Falls is…not a progressive town.”
Bill frowned, his expression hardening. “That’s what the whole damn country seems to be obsessed with right about now. All this talk about ‘the machine’ and what they’re doing out here in these woods to people they think are ‘bad’.” Those amber eyes looked down at Dipper’s, softening slightly. “I can’t imagine how rough you must have it living out here, sapling.”
Dipper tried his best to control himself from too visibly reacting to Bill openly speaking ill about the machine. The organization had started as a group focused on studying and protecting all the wildlife that inhabited Gravity Falls, from the friendliest bug to the deadly creatures that lurked in the shadows. But after years of having their cries ignored, instead of working alongside the government, it should control it as only the machine could be trusted with putting Gravity Falls first. It established a puppet government in Gravity Falls and created a strict code of conduct that all people living had to follow in order to best protect the creatures that lived in the forest. As leadership changed, some of the policies added were admittedly less focused on preservation and more on control. Some people had decided to dissent, so the machine used their knowledge of the forest to unleash horrific creatures upon a gay couple—who were previously cops, nonetheless—protesting the ban on homosexuality.
“I….thank you.” Dipper felt heavy and suddenly had the urge to leave immediately.
Dipper knew the public didn’t view the machine favorably. But Grunkle Ford had always assured him that they were just doing what was right for the forest, by whatever means necessary. Sure, there had been nights especially after the violent affront on those cops where Dipper, being scared, had questioned their actions but he trusted Grunkle Ford. If Grunkle Ford said that this was what needed to be done for the greater good of Gravity Falls, then he believed him. He’d suppress his attraction to men to the occasional rendezvous with Gideon and take his place and take his spy training seriously the next day. Of course, he had made a quiet promise to himself that he’d never report someone for homosexuality (which had ironically helped him make valuable connections) but besides that he pledged his full loyalty to the machine. Because in the end, all they wanted was good…..right?
BAM!
Screams echoed throughout the ballroom, nearly drowning out the sound of a gunshot—shrill, panicked. The strings from the orchestra snapped at once. The ballroom lights flickered once, then cut completely, plunging the crowd into chaos. A second later: bang. A flash of smoke from the western entrance.
Bill jumped protectively in front of Dipper, pulling out a gun from his pocket. “Fuck, shit. They weren’t supposed to show their faces, those bastards.” Bill mumbled, Dipper’s blood running cold for the second time that night at his words. “You armed kid?”
“I..I..”
Bill roughly pulled him by the collar, “Stay behind me then.”
As he crouched behind Bill, Dipper tried his best to fight the overwhelming sense of panic growing in him. This was supposed to be just a simple undercover mission, not an attack. He wasn’t trained for combat—well, okay maybe he was, but he wasn’t ready to kill to protect the machine like he knew he had too. And this man had a gun, and Dipper hadn’t been debriefed about him by the machine so he had to be a dream operative. Fuck.
As they entered, he saw Pacifica limping against a nearby wall, eyes blown wide and stuffing a manilla folder into the slit of her dress. She crumpled against Dipper the moment she saw him. All previous grievances he felt against her melted away, as he grabbed her shoulders to keep her steady.
“W-what the fuck…?” She panted. Bill gave her a quick jealous glance before continuing to search through the chaotic crowd.
“Dream” Dipper responded automatically, just as he had been trained to.
Bill scoffed, giving him a suspicious look from over his shoulders. “Oh don’t be so gullible Pine Tree, this has the machine’s name written all over it.”
The Duke, a man who the machine had identified as Dipper’s person of interest of the night, was being escorted—not apprehended—by what an onlooker may describe as foreign military personnel, but Dipper recognized those faces. Those people were the machine’s men. Forming a tight, protective circle. Around the man who, according to the machine’s file on him, had committed heinous crimes.
Meanwhile a young woman in a bright pink coat—no older than Mabel—ran toward a side exit, a flash drive clutched in her hand. She didn’t make it two steps before a round hit her square in the chest. She collapsed with a sound Dipper would never forget.
As soon as the duke and machine left, Bill ran towards the woman. “Pyronica!” Surprisingly, she wasn’t dead. Not yet anyways. Four others rushed to her side. Someone screamed for a doctor.
“Dipper,” Pacifica’s voice cracked as she grabbed his hand. “I need to talk to you outside immediately.”
So he let her pull him to that same balcony he had let himself get distracted with Bill at. He wasn’t exactly sure what else he should do. A voice in the back of his mind told him he should contact Grunkle Ford immediately, but the memory of one of those women crashing to the floor stopped him from doing so.
“Dipper, oh my god.” She bit back a sob the second they stepped outside, her grip on him growing painful. “That..that woman who died, she gave me this.” Pacifica slipped him a manilla folder, tainted slightly with blood. “Read it later. Footage, transcripts, comm logs. Orders signed by Grunkle Ford. Says Mabel was ‘collateral acceptable to maintain cover.’ Dipper, Mabel was supposed to die that day. By the machine’s orders nonetheless.”
Pacifica broke into sobs and Dipper held her—just barely. The machine…what? No no no, they couldn’t have. It had to have been fabricated by D.R.E.A.M. He’d give it to Grunkle Stan for an integrity evaluation later, but…there was no way. It was wrong…right? Yes, of course it had to be. Dipper….the machine was the good guys, Dipper…was one of the good guys.
“You’re a fucking machine agent aren’t you?” Bill’s voice startled Dipper, and the gun he had pointed at Dipper’s forehead caused him to stumble forward with Pacifica in his arms.
“B-Bill! I…” Dipper chewed nervously on his lip. Pacifica gasped in his arms and he placed her behind him in a protective fashion. “P-put that down.”
Bill didn’t speak right away. He just flicked open a silver lighter and lit a cigarette with one hand. “To think I let myself get distracted by your sorry excuse for a diversion. Damn near almost lost one of my best agents tonight. Thankfully, it’s gonna take more than some pretty boy batting his lashes at me to ruin my mission. What a shame that they corrupted you though kid.” He cocked the gun. “Any final wo-”
Pacifica jumped in front of him and grabbed the manilla paper from him, waving it in front of the two of them as if it was a shield. “He didn’t know! He…he didn’t know that they’d kill her and protect the duke of all people. And that they….they tried to kill his twin sister.”
Bill scowled at her, snatching the folder from her and briefly flipping through it. After a minute, he sighed and lowered the gun, the anger in his eyes mutating into something colder—disappointment.
“Damn it, kid,” he muttered. “You’re lucky she vouched for you. You wouldn’t be the first sorry bastard the Machine sent to cozy up to me.”
“I didn’t even know you were a dream agent.” He choked out, still shaking slightly. God if only Grunkle Ford could see him now, he’d see him as something less than collateral damage.
Bill’s eyes narrowed at him and Dipper felt he was reading his very soul. Finally, he sighed and he could see something in the man subtly soften. “Not just an agent kid. Put some respect on my name. I run the damn circus.”
Dipper stood up with a slight groan, his head pounding in confusion. Standing in front of him was the alleged boss of DREAM. If the files from the machine were right, he was a sociopathic, cruel, twisted monster hellbent on control. But the look he was giving Dipper right now screamed otherwise. He didn’t know what to believe.
“That wasn’t us. But they’ll spin it, won’t they? Let the machine keep grinding.” Bill sneered, glancing back inside the ballroom as people loudly gossiped about how the machine clearly ‘saved them’ from a DREAM terrorist. “Look at how easy it is for them all to believe them. This entire town is damn pathetic. But you know the truth now, don’t you Pine Tree? Can’t unsee Pyro’s body hitting the floor…or knowing your precious organization sees your sister’s life as nothing more than collateral.”
“S-shut up..” Dipper protested weakly, gritting his teeth as he clutched his head.
Pacifica slapped his shoulder, giving him a glare before turning to Bill. “Don’t listen to him, he’s in shock. His Uncle’s basically the only reason that machine is still running and Dipper here is his little lapdog-”
“For once in your damn life shut up Pacifica.” He turned to glare at her, but it wasn’t as firm as it should’ve been.
Bill gave him a strange look; one that even with hundreds of hours of spy training he couldn’t quite decipher. “I don’t want you dead. Not yet. But if you’re staying with them, we’re enemies. Understand, sapling?”
Dipper opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Instead he slowly nodded. “I…understand.”
Bill blew smoke into his face, cackling as Dipper coughed before continuing. “Y’know I really should kill you, but I just can’t find it in me to sapling. I like you. You’re smart and loyal like a dog. And of course, you’d look damn good by my side as we burn this machine down.”
Bill took a few steps backward, then paused. “The Machine doesn’t protect the forest. It protects itself.” He looked over again at Dipper, a small smile playing on his lips and a hint of both flirtation and amusement softening his gaze. "And you, Pine Tree... you're better than that. When you're ready to stop lying to yourself and fight for what you know is right, come find me. I’ll make sure to give you a special treat once you do.” He winked.
Bill turned walking slowly back towards the crowded ballroom where his fellow dream associates were congregating by the door. Dipper reached into his pockets out of habit and fished out a crumbled piece of paper with a phone number and a triangle scribbled on.
“Oh and Pine Tree?” Bill looked over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of danger and flirtation. “This is the last easy out I’m giving you so long as you’re a clog in the machine. I wouldn’t hesitate to leave you dead in a ditch if you get in my way.” Laughter stretched out in the quiet balcony, “Hopefully you’ll come to your senses before that though. Either way, I’ll be watching you, Pine Tree. Always watching.”
And with that he disappeared in the crowd, and Dipper crumbled in Pacifica’s arms as he grappled with the evidence that his family, his world—hell, his very purpose in life, may not be what it seems.
Stand. Shake hands. Smile. Speak briefly. Listen closely. Charm them. Lie if you must. Repeat. Just don’t look up too long. Only look at the machine briefly. Don’t listen closely to the squeaks and groans and moans of the machine. Don’t ask how the machine works. Don’t hope to fix something that isn’t broken. Hope gets you replaced. Just follow the instructions. Stand. Shake hands. Smile. Speak briefly. Listen closely. Charm them. Lie if you must. And most importantly, remember what you saw. Repeat.