Note (written November 23, 2015- more than a year after I finished this fic): This story contains quite a few elements that were, at the time, speculation. The first chapters were published before Season 1 ended, and the story as a whole finished long before any information about the true identity of the author was revealed.

As such, a lot of these ideas have been debunked completely. For example, very early on, a character is shown to be a direct relative of another character- however, a Season 2 episode provided an actual canon answer to something I was only guessing at for fun.

The point is, many concepts in this story are flat-out incorrect, now that we know more of the big picture. If that doesn't bother you, think of this as a way things could have gone.

Aside from this note, nothing has been changed. The notes at the beginning of each chapter are my reactions and thoughts at the time I posted them.

Now, then... would you like to hear about a mystery?

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I think this works well on its own, but I really would like to continue it. No promises, though.

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I flip through the pages.

-have discovered-

-not the only-

-reported that the creature-

-afraid, but I cannot avoid it-

-something is very wrong-

-yellow, glowing in the dark-

-dangerous and should not be approached-

Nothing.

-will attempt to locate-

-one of the many-

-seen as a threat, but I believe-

-never been explored before-

-the last chance to find it-

I flip through the pages.

I flip through the words, the secrets, the mysteries.

Just a word- that's all I need. "Vanishings." "Disappearances."

Nothing. Nothing that could help me.

I slam the journal down on the bed in front of me. Useless.

I know that's not true, but I'm not- I'm not thinking straight.

Footsteps, echoing back and forth on the creaking wooden boards of the attic. Who's making that noise?

With a start, I realize I'm the one pacing. A straight line, between the two beds. Over and over.

I can't think. I can't do anything, but I have to-

Have to... what?

My head is pounding. I can't deal with this. No one can.

I can't go back down there; but I'm here, facing the exit, hand on the doorknob. I can't go down there.

I can't. I have to. I won't.

Somehow, I'm walking down the steps. One foot at a time. Slowly. Deep breaths. The first memory hits.

"Bro, bro, bro!" She's at the top, eyes wide as ever, wearing a white sweater that reaches to her knees. It has a picture of a smiling whale on the front, but that's nothing compared to the grin spreading across her face. "I made a way to get downstairs faster! Look!"

She's balancing on a mattress, holding two pillows above her head, pushing off the back wall. "I AM A TRENDSETTER!" she shrieks, riding the bumps of each step before collapsing in a heap at the bottom. "Oof!" She bounces up, smiling even more. "That was the best!"

My legs buckle. For a second, I nearly fall; but I brace both hands against the walls. The stairway is spinning, lurching, trying to get rid of me. My shallow breathing is too loud.

No, that's not it. Everything else is too quiet.

Shaking, I make my way down the last few steps. The hallway stretches in front of me, somehow bigger and more empty than it was yesterday.

"Dude!" He races through the entryway, skidding to a stop when he sees me. "You'll never believe it, dude!" He's holding his hat in his hands, shoving it towards me with an excited look on his face. "This crazy little squirrel dude's totally bonkers!"

"Hey hey! HEY!" The voice sounds like it's coming from the lobby. "How about instead of letting mindless, dirty animals loose in the Shack, you take care of the ones out in the gift shop! Their money's not gonna scam itself!"

His brow furrows, and he looks genuinely confused. "But Mr. Pines, isn't that... illegal or something?"

I try to stop thinking. Just move forward, into the lobby. Try to... try not to...

"Oh, hey, man! What's up?" She's just sitting there, behind the counter, flipping through a magazine. Looks up. Smiles.

I can't breathe. I fall forward, scraping my hands on the uneven boards.

"Somethin' wrong?" She tilts her head, and her cap slides down one ear. That look, the one where she squints a bit and one of the corners of her mouth turns up in a half-smile, like she knows I'm not okay, she knows that I need her help but she doesn't mind and it's fine because she's here and I can talk to her and everything's gonna be-

She's not here.

NO ONE'S HERE.

A cry of pain slips out. I try to stop, but it keeps going, getting louder and higher and more real. There's a splinter, digging into my knee. That's the reason. That's why I'm crying.

Yeah. That's it.

My eyes are closed, and I'm sobbing now, and I can't stand, I can't get up.

"Where are you?" It makes no sense, but I say it anyway. Again, louder. More and more, until my throat's raw and burning, and I can't yell it anymore.

I get to my feet, wiping my eyes with a sleeve. My mind is just blank, not focusing on anything as I walk around the room. Cash register. T-shirts. Vending machine.

Door.

There's something pinned to the door. I don't know how I missed it. Getting closer, I see it's a picture of us. All five of us. Smiling, laughing, like nothing's wrong in the world.

I gently pull the photo away. Something makes me turn it over.

My breath catches again. The writing's too sloppy, written too quickly to tell who it's from.

DIPPER

I BELIEVE IN YOU