(A/N: Hey, guys! Yet another long ass chapter of "Everybody has an emotional breakdown and nobody has a therapist." Just wanted to kind of warn everyone that I'm moving, so I might lose the time to update for a few months, maybe. I'm not stopping the story, obviously. The updates just might slow down a bit, is all.)

Dipper listened intently, scanning Gideon over, pulling from him his subtle motions. The way he fidgeted. How he rubbed his sweaty palms over his shorts. His shifting eyes, breaking from Dipper periodically to meet with Pacifica's supervision. He would pause throughout his sentences, taking in shaky breaths, peering around the room. Everyone's attention was on him. Every grown, gritty pair of eyes were on him, piercing through his pudgy skin. By the time he finished what needed to be said, he was a shaking mess of anxiety.

"And, uh-... that's it." Gideon's eyes were pinned on just below Dipper's chin, unable to meet his gaze. There were a few mumbled between the men, carefully processing Gideon's new information with bewilderment. Low, throaty whispers filled the room, enclosing him in a cage of speculation. He shrunk back, hoping to escape. But, how could he? There was no way of taking it back. No way of saving face. This was all his fault. Dipper stared at him, a look of subsequent confusion and surprise pooling over him as he began to walk forward. He slipped his left hand into his pocket, his right still stuck firmly behind his back. After the damage those birds did to his sleeve, he knew it was impossible to hide his cuts so casually anymore. He came four or five feet from Gideon, crouching down to be level with him, his eyes intense.

"Gideon." He began, his tone sturdy and smooth. Gideon shrank back still, his clammy hands clasped behind his back as he bent his head down. Dipper grimaced slightly, seeing his actions in full view. He needed to calm himself before speaking again, or Gideon might begin to panic. He continued.

"This is your doing, then? Everything that's happened?" He stood, gesturing around the room to the multitude of men, barricaded amongst each other. Gideon said nothing, only nodding solemnly.

"... I guess no one would lie about this..." He sucked in a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. He combed his hand through his hair, a strained expression plaguing him.

"And..." He paused, forcing himself to reprompt the question. "How do we stop the birds?" He massaged the bridge of his nose, burying his eyes in the space between his thumb and index, waiting for the response he already knew too well. A slight shuffle was heard, only for Gideon to clear his throat awkwardly.

"... Expose your secret..." He mustered, rubbing his hands together as he rocked on his heels. He felt like a creep.

"Which one?" Dipper muttered through his fingers, still covering his conflicted expression. This caught Gideon by surprise, willing him to snap his head up and look at Dipper.

"Which...?" Gideon had never considered it. It had never come to mind just what he wanted to know about Dipper. Before this, the likelihood of actually receiving information on his double life seemed more like a fantasy than a possibility. His mouth went dry. He had no response. He had no right to demand that sort of information. Not anymore. Gideon looked away, his eyes shooting across the room in shame.

"Hey." Dipper whistled sharply, snapping his fingers at Gideon. "Quit doing that. Geez..." He paused, waiting to regain Gideon's full attention. Once he received it, Dipper let out a sigh.

"We're going to die, Gideon..." He began, shocking Gideon with his bluntness. Gideon's lower lip shook slightly, fear welling up in him.

"We're going to die, Gideon. Unless you cooperate." His tone was cold, sending a shiver down Gideon's spine.

"Which, Gideon?" He shifted on his feet, prepared to turn his gaze away again, only to see the intensity of Dipper's eyes. He stood as tall as he could, his little gut popping out just slightly from the slip of his shirt, looking him right in the eye.

"Any secret." He couldn't demand anything from anyone now, partially fearing his refusal. There was no way of survival if Dipper kept his mouth shut, all because Gideon was too eagre in putting him on the spot.

"...Any secret..." Dipper breathed out, a shaky nerve present in his tone. He shifted his view down for only a moment, grimacing as he did so. "That's tough..."

The room fell silent, holding onto Dipper's simple statement. Yes. It was tough. It was amazingly tough to draw out the will that placed your friend's lives above your own pride. It was even more difficult when you were being swarmed by men you'd known for years. Dipper shook for a moment, going through his mental file of locked up scenes. Every lie he'd told. Every crime he'd committed. Every thought he'd had. There were so many. Too many. But, he had to grab at one. And, just as he did, a rusty laugh filled the room.

"A secret? Really? A secret?" Tyler began. His shoulders bounced, looking Dipper up and down as he began to advance. "There's not a damn thing I don't know about him already!" He threw his hands up playfully, shaking his head in disbelief.

"He's got some dirt on him, that's for sure! Ha! Well, no need to say it here, I suppose. I've heard it all." Tyler remarked, giving Dipper a wary look as he went on. He really did know a lot about Dipper. Anyone who had seen him drunk, unveiled and talkative, always seemed to know a lot about him. It was just a public cruelty having him verbalize it. About his home life. About how he saw himself. About his childhood. His mother. His father. The people that used him. The people he searched to be used by. The ones he could never reach out to, no matter how badly he wanted to. His love. His hate. Himself. Not even Tyler could be so cruel. He gave Dipper a poor expression, only to pull it over with a playful grin to the crowd.

"The boy's done a whole lot for us, wouldn't you men say?" He directed to the congregation who responded with a satisfied mutter of agreement. Tyler nodded, humming as he heard the men confirm the statement amongst themselves.

"He's done a lot more than grown men should be asking for, that's for sure." Tyler went on, once again met with mutters of agreement, this time slightly louder. He scooted over to Dipper's side, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he continued.

"Tyler...?" Dipper became slightly uneasy, hearing the way Tyler was talking. What was he getting at?

"I think all he's gotta do now is get rid of all these dang birds now, right fellas?" There were no words of confirmation this time. Just the simple understanding of what had to be done. Dipper's secret. One out of a multitude of secrets. He wet his lips, parting them just slightly as he prepared to announce it to the whole room, only for Tyler to snap to life and butt in instantaneously.

"So, let's stop messin' with 'em, boys. Fun's over. It's time for them to escape." He smirked, the men chuckling lightheartedly in response. As they did, Wendy's face began to scrunch up.

"Wait... Escape?!" She bellowed, her face red in realization.

"We could have escaped?!" Wendy began to grit her teeth, only for Tyler to respond with a silly grin.

"Wendy." He began, as if talking to a child. "This place is filled with criminals. Why wouldn't there be an escape route?" He waved her off, popping the collar of his leather jacket.

"We just wanted to teach you a little lesson, is all. Not to mention your experience. We would've just used our fists if Dipper hadn't suggested explosives. Very smart, kiddo." He turned Dipper's way, giving him a thumbs up, only for Dipper to bunch up his shoulders with kind of a strained expression. Dipper shot a glance at Wendy, not surprised to see her visibly foaming at the mouth.

"You- You ass!" She growled, snarling as he chuckled at her.

"The escape route's right behind the counter, under the rug, Miss Corduroy." He commented with a wink. "So, you'd better geet."

Dipper paused for a moment, relaying exactly how he had said it. Something was off. He looked around the room at the men, brandishing their weapons, ready to fight. Not to run.

"You're not coming?" Dipper questioned, only to be met with the bar members' disapproving grumbles and hisses. Tyler smiled at him darkly, unable to withhold his overwhelming despair.

"That wouldn't be very manly of us, kid." He pat him on the head shakily, allowing a bit of familiarity to flow between them as he did. Dipper's eyes shot open, hearing these empty words of meaningless nothing. 'Manly', Tyler had said. 'Manly'. What was so manly about dying? Nothing. Nothing at all. Not when you had friends and family to miss you. Not when you were needed. Not when you could be forgotten and left to rot under a mountain of crow carcusses. No. Not manly at all. Dipper's mouth shot open, ready to rebuke him, only for Tyler to grip him by the shirt, pulling him closer. His right hand rested on Dipper's left shoulder, forcing his ear right up to Tyler's lips as he spoke.

"These men..." Tyler began with a whisper, wetting his lips as he chose his next words carefully. "They will not back down. Never, Dipper. Never. Even if they're devoured, a man does not yield. A man does not leave his men behind... Make your peace with whoever you think won't make it back, but get out of here before the crows come... And take care of Miss Corduroys." He pulled away as quickly as he had grabbed him, Dipper stumbling back as shock overwhelmed his system. 'Make your peace'. What a ridiculous thing. No one was going to die. No one would be lost to the crows. He refused to let Tyler be so melodramatic. And yet-... And yet...

Dipper viewed Tyler cautiously, his glowing smile shadowed by subtle anxiety. Could he...? It was impossible for Dipper to know for sure, so he forced the feeling away. Instead, he crossed his arms, looking at Tyler unimpressed.

"I'll see you later, Ty." Dipper sniffed, cooling his tone just enough to appear apathetic. In reality, he was dying. Drowning in fear. Worry. Darkness. He was being told to abandon them. The men. All he ever referred to them as were 'the men', as if their real names were such a hassle. No. Not at all. But, it is a simple truth that almost half of those men died fending off the crows that day, making for wasteful deaths. Worthless deaths. The men in the bar are insignificant. They're little blips on the screen. So, why did it hurt Dipper so much as he slowly climbed down the metal latter that led down a small passageway, deep within the bar? Pacifica went first, followed by Gideon, Wendy, and finally Dipper, all of whom slid their way downwards.

The tunnel was bleak, darkness stretching far beyond their view, the only light source spilling from above them. As the man hole's cover slowly shuffled back into place, capturing them down below, the shadows crept over them.

Gideon shook, doubt and regret swiftly filling him as his mind begged his eyes to adjust to the blackness. He had no idea how to handle such suffication. The tunnel's rusting scent, coupled with the build up of mildew. The periodic drips, far off and echoed hauntingly. The collective clipping of foot steps, drifting through the air as the group moved forward blindly. It drove him mad, taking every ounce of willpower he had not to bult back up the latter and regain his light. Their hands slid over the tunnel's scruffy walls, slowly, meticulously, as they felt their way through the darkness.

"Who would've guessed Tyler was so sneaky..?" Wendy offered, the silence too overbaring. Her words came out as a whisper, sending shivers down everyone's spines as her words hissed through the air.

"I didn't even know this was down here..." She continued, hoping to spark some kind of conversation. Something to ease her mind. But, how could anyone comfort her here? In the dark, in a tunnel, blindly searching for a distant exit Tyler hadn't even elaborated on the location of. Not to mention the birds. They had no idea where they were going. The group was underground, their only navigation coming from the sharp turns they felt out from the tunnel's walls. The corner pieces that led left or right, guiding them mindlessly through the cavern.

They all shook at the possiblity of being trapped down under. Being caught by the birds, consumed without even putting their fists up. This was a nightmare. Dipper cursed himself, recalling his amulet. The one he wore to his magic shows. The one that granted him magical abilities beyond his own strength. The one with a glowing aura, able to shine through even the darkest of nights. The one he had left on his nightstand, sneering at it's gaudy appearance before settling for something more casual. He could almost scream at himself, the anger that built up within him.

A sleek, blue stone with the ability to encase every last bird and kill it. To light the way through the cave. To make him stronger. He had tossed it aside, asking it to sit there and pick up dust while he fended for himself. He grit his teeth, taking his thumb and index finger and pinching his right arm. His nails dug deep, feeling a subtle moisture drip down his thumb and to the gravelled floor. He almost felt he could tear the bit of flesh right off, but restrained himself. There was no point. Instead, he felt along the wall once again, stopping once he smoothed over a second hand. The same small, delicate little hand that had pressed against the glass moments ago.

Pacifica stiffened, only to intwine her fingers in his, continuing her shuffled search along side him. She gave a sigh of relief, her muscles letting up from their clentched positions. Her mind quickly obsorbed itself in his presence, dissolving the paranoia that crept up behind her. She focused on his hand. Soft and elegant like a woman's. If it weren't for the small scars that rose around his fingers, she might have mistaken his palm for Wendy's. Maybe even Gideon's.

She thought for a moment, tracing a mental image of his hand in her mind. Scars. Little ones wedged within the webbing of his fingers. Larger ones, pricked slices that ran down his fingers, beginning at the tips. The largest one, it seemed, was a deep gash on his palm she never noticed before. It felt soft now, most likely pink and healed, though it indented and sank in all the same. She held in a grimace, imagining the pain it must have caused. And a second one, providing a scenerio in which these wounds might accure.

She imagined the forest, filled with beasts and monsters, ready to pull him apart and devour him upon contact. She imagined his grunkle Stan, standing above him with a stained, yellow grin, holding some kind of whip or belt or rod to beat him with. She imagined Dipper, drunkin and disoriented, shattering his bottle before spilling into it, palms first. And, biting the inside of her cheek, she imagined her least favorite scenario. She imagined him, shaded and devious, leaning over his last victom. Her mind expanded, drawing up a pentagram with a single, faceless body lying grimmly in the center.

He stood over the body, a blackened cloak canvessing his person from head to toe as he spoke. His journal would glow against candle light, his amulet illuminating his face. He'd read from the book, a sacred few in Arabic or Hebrew or other, watching as the pentagram would begin to glow and shake. He'd take out a blade, carving at his own palm, a deep gash spilling out his blood onto the symbol.

This was the ritual. She recalled the images Gideon had shown her hours before, laying out his bleak conspirousy. His snapshot photos of broken branches, severed lamb tounges, and shaded backs. She remembered his shock and fear the first time they met, warning her to never cross paths with the Pines twins. She pulled from the depths of her subconscious the night Dipper and she had met in the woods.

She recalled the creature that attacked them. How he had defeated it. So effortlessly, he had defeated it. And afterwards. The part that still wavered in her mind, holding strong with a dream-like filter. How he had killed it. Though he told her to close her eyes, missing the act of killing, she witnessed the after effects.

The crushing of skulls. The goo-ish crunch that came from it, as if crushing together berries and walnut shells. He had killed it so mercilously, like he was somebody else for a moment. Like his eyes no longer held the value of life in them. Like he no longer held value at all. She restrained herself from pulling away from him, instead clentching his hand more firmly.

No. It wasn't true. Gideon was wrong. These scars could never come from such a poorly cooked up fantasy. Never. Pacifica rationed that she was simply overworked and stressed. And like that, the idea slipped to the back of her mind and flaked apart as a lie.

Dipper's ears perked up, hearing the soft trickle of water from above. It rushed on, the easy flow of a river just now introduced to them during their long march for an exit. As they continued along their dark search, the sound became louder and louder, just above them. As they inched closer the mutted vibrations of a river's powerful current began to seep into the wall, building their hopes up.

"We're getting close to an exit..." Pacifica mused, her eyes beginning to shine. The tunnel, they noticed, had begun to lighten up, allowing for periodic views of their hands and the wall they clung to. Gideon grimaced, viewing the muck he had collected while smeering against the wall. And, upon registering this information, he let out a sigh of relief. He could see. Thank God he could see, or he might have combusted from his surges of continual fear and anxiety. Gideon hated the dark. More than monsters, he hated the dark.

Their eyes strained for a moment more, seeing a strong beam of light in the distance, before picking up their pace. Each hand slowly slid away from the wall, now able to see their feet as well as vines that curled around the ceiling's pipelines. The origin of the light grew in size as they neared it, a gapping hole that led out into the forest. Gideon was the first to reach it, too frightened and frazzled to worry about possible threats on the other end. Wendy surfaced next, followed by Pacifica, placing her hand over her eyes as the change of lighting shocked her. Her other hand, still tugging Dipper along from behind, led him out with an enthusiastic yank.

He stumbled forth, examining the forestry that now surrounded them. The sky was still dotted with fat clouds, ready to rain once again on the flaring, humid day. Trees, numerous trees, stood before them, twisting and intermingling amongst one another in a mesh of unorthadoxed greenery. A river, perhaps the river they had been hearing moments before, weaved its way between the trees. He turned his back to the group, examining their exit: A large, gaping cave sheilded by vinery and fallen branches.

"Geez..." Wendy began, stretching her tense muscles. "How long were we in there?" Dipper looked to her for a moment, rubbing his eyes as a slight ache crept over them.

"Long enough." He turned back towards them, patting his pants of any dust that might have clung to him in the tunnel. "I think we're near the discontinued railroad, the one over the cliff."

"I-in that case, we s-should head towards the s-s-shack." Gideon mustered, sweat building at his pits. Dipper gave him a steady look, shifting his eyes up and down his figure as he trembled.

"We can't get to the Mystery Shack without cutting through town. There's too much of a risk getting caught by the birds."

"And roughing it out in the forest isn't a risk?" Wendy chimed in. Dipper shot her a quick look, slightly annoyed by her tone, only to shug in agreement.

"Fair enough. But, what are we supposed to do?"

"W-we should hide, don't you think? T-there's no w-way we can stay ou-out here! N-not so close to w-wildlife!" Gideon piped up, hoping to control the situation as best he could.

"So... Back to the cave, then? As a hiding spot?" Pacifica suggested, raising her hand half-way in an awkward manner.

"I'm not going back in that cave!" Gideon shot harshly, his frail voice rising through the trees.

"I don't know." Dipper began. "That might be our only option... We really can't get caught in the open." He began to side with Pacifica, tapping his chin as he tried to work out any alternatives.

"What?! No way! We just got out of it!" He fussed, his eyes shooting wide in disbelief, tugging on the sides of his hat with a nervous shake.

"What? Scared of the dark?" Pacifica teased, poking his cheek with a snicker. He swatted her hand away, earning a blunt sneer from her end.

"No! I just-! Why do we have to go back?!" His face engulfed itself in a reddened tint as his desperation grew substantually. Yes. He was scared of the dark. At least when there wasn't a light switch to counteract it. To control it. He needed the control. More than anything, he needed to know he could start and end the darkness. Otherwise, he didn't feel the darkness would ever end.

"It's for the best. Be cool about it, man." Wendy put her hands up towards him, trying to sooth his growing anxiety. It was a sweet action, something she had developed after witnessing a multitude of Dipper's breakdowns. A gesture that always seemed to kiss him gently, pulling his mind into a soft lull of rationale and understanding. Something that did the exact opposite when performed for Gideon.

"NO!" Gideon cried out, shrinking away from the group. "We can't go back! Never! Never, ever! I'm not dying in there!" He pulled in lung fulls of air, his heart racing as he clenched his chest. He heaved, his eyes vibrating just slightly, unable to look at them as his view shot to their feet.

Tears brimmed at the corners of either cheek, slowly smearing down his pudgy face. The only reason he had even gone down there was because no one had told him how dark it would be. And the only reason he hadn't screamed or cried while blindly searching was because he feared something hearing and coming for him. Pacifica stepped forward.

"Gideon, it's fine. You'll be fine. Nothing in that cave can hurt you." She comforted, though her words held a condicending tone. She went on, unaware of the growing fury her words shot into Gideon's heart.  

"If we stick around out here, we'll be eaten for sure! Right guys?" She swivled her head around to face the other two, both saying nothing but agreeing nonetheless. She wet her lips, misjudging Gideon's expression as a slow reform of understanding and agreement as well.

"But-!" Gideon began, only to be waved off instantly.

"Right!" She agreed with herself, clapping her hands together. "So let's just- scooch our little butts back in that cave!" She laughed, hoping to lure him in with a false sense of security. His eyes narrowed. She inched her way towards him, her arms outstretched for him to come into the cave. Gideon watched cautiously, seeing both Wendy and Dipper spin on their heels and march into the cave without a second glance.

Something about that seemed to burn him, their backs turned and mockingly brave. Unstoppably brave. Something he had never been. Instead, he was cowardly. Cautious. Unquestioning. Conformative. Gullable. Pitiful. Weak. He growled at himself, recalling each and every word that described him. And, as he watched her becon him to follow them into the cave, he added yet another word to his description: Spiteful.

His eyes spiked with venom, staring daggers into her skull as he spoke.

"Fuck you..." He whispered, just barely forming the words. Pacifica's ears perked up, not sure she had heard him right.

"Haha... I-I'm sorry?" She leaned towards him cautiously, her hands clasped innocently behind her back, a look of disbelief evident on her face. Surely he hadn't said that. Gideon was too young and awkward to say something like that. She had never heard him curse. And she had never really expected him to curse. Ever.

"I said FUCK YOU!" He let out finally after a moment of silence. The group snapped their heads at him, unable to rationalize his sudden outburst. He held his hands up like claws, flexing his finger muscles in a tense manor as he prepared to pull at his own hair. His eyes, burning viciously at the ground, seemed to dilate into speck-like dots. He no longer stared down in shame, but rather with spiteful hatred that would surely spring out of him once his gaze met theirs. And, it did.

"Woah! Calm down, kid." Wendy was first to respond, shock overtaking her. Gideon's eyes snapped up, quick and vicious as a snake's, grinding his teeth as he looked at her.

"Fuck you, too." He replied with a cold tone, some of his shaking replaced by his uncontrollable anger. "And you. Fuck you the most." He continued, shifting his gaze towards Dipper, who stiffened in surprise as well as hidden amusement. This was an entirely new emotion for Gideon, this overwhelming hatred. This anger. This regret. This despear.

"All of you..." He hissed. "All of you can go to Hell!" His chest heaved as the words shot through the air, trying their hardest to strike each and every one of them in the heart. To hurt them. To hate them

"None of this is my Fault! It's yours!" He forced an accusing finger on Dipper, who stood arms crossed and somewhat concerned for him. This only seemed to burn Gideon even more.

"You-! You're a criminal! A monster! No matter how good you try to be, you're still that demon I saw! The one that- that snuck out at night to kill! I know you did! No one believes me, but I know you did! So just confess! Confess already and the birds will go away!" He made great strides towards Dipper, yanking him by the collar to be eye level with him.

"Get rid of the birds, Dipper! Get rid of the birds, now!" Pacifica struck at Gideon, wripping him away from Dipper's shirt in a rush of stimulated surprise.

"Gideon! What the Hell?!" Pacifica snarled, bringing him to a half Nelson as he continually tried to break free and advance on Dipper. His feet dug into the soil, bucking and growling as he squirmed relentlessly.

"Confess, murderer! Confess!" He began to chant. He chanted for confession endlessly, his coards burning as he shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Confess! Confess! Confess! Confess!" His eyes brimmed with tears as the overwhelming desperation took hold of him. Yes. Dipper had to confess. Now. Or what? Death. They would die. They would all die, and it would be Dipper's fault. Not his. He wasn't the one with the secret. He wasn't the one that had to be exposed. And if Dipper was too selfish to do so, that would only make him that much more a murderer. Gideon needed this. He needed Dipper's secret, that was the simple truth. He had successfully enclosed Dipper in the ultimate ultimatum: Tell me. Tell me your secret, or you die. You die. I die. She dies. They both do. And it'll be your fault.

Dipper, knowing all of this, remained silent as Gideon howled. His expression smoothed over as an emotionless, neutral gaze of contemplation and maturety, though the reality of the situation weighed heavily on him.

"I thought you said any secret." He interupted Gideon's bawling, his hands sliding into his back pockets. At least, his left one did. His right one, scarred and slit open on several occassions, had been snapped behind his back since they resurfaced. With his sleeve in tatters, anyone could see what he had done to himself. The darkness could no longer shade his body from people's view, nor could he come up with a resonable explanation for why his right arm was stretched with pink, white, and dark red lines that rode up him both horizantally and vertically. He was on edge from the moment they reconnected with sunlight.

Gideon growled at him, perceiving his calm nature as an act of mockery. He made yet another attempt to lunge at Dipper, only for his shoulders to be shook back by Pacifica. He made an animal-like sound, something from the depths of his stomach, baring his teeth in anguish.

"...Con-fess." He went on, and for a moment Dipper considered it. Of course he had to admit to something, or the birds would never leave them. But he had made every effort to avoid his deepest secret. The one about Grunkle Stan. About Mabel. How his caretaker had ordered his twin and him to dispose of any and all forms of competition on sight. How Stan had become so frightening, so devistatingly powerful to their then twelve-year-old minds, that it never crept into their heads to just dispose of him. But instead, to follow his orders without question and without moral judgement.

And how, over time, they grew greedy and villianous themselves, sneeking out of the house to dispose of their own personal enemies. Because they could. Because they hated someone. Because it wasn't fair how okay everyone else's lives seemed. Because no one would ever know it was them and would never find the body. Because it seemed like the only real relief from pain was to cause someone else an ever greater, more horrific pain.

He chewed at the inside of him cheek, staring Gideon down. 'He knows...' Dipper thought to himself. And, if he knew about it already, was it even a secret? A slight shock shot through him. No... No, it wasn't. He furrowed his brow, viewing Gideon's reddened face, foaming over and farel. He couldn't use the secret to expel the birds, because Gideon already knew about it. There was no exposure to be expected from it. Only the satisfation of having Dipper's perfect reputation ruined, as well as Gideon's own reputation lifted up as people recalled his conspiracies about the Pines twins. And Gideon knew that.

Dipper's nostrals flaired, a wave of realization knocking him back. He wet his lips to speak, to rebuke him, only for his mouth to snap shut with better judgement. This wasn't the time. Gideon, seeing the act however, began to vibrate with uncontrollible rage.

'He won't confess!' Gideon thought. 'He won't CONFESS!' His brain continued to chant for confession, building up inside of him, only for Gideon to let out an inhuman cry. His face snapped up to the sky, opening his mouth to scream in both anger and hatred. He stomped his feet in a fit, his face growing red as his body shook. Pacifica held him as best she could, wincing at his volume. The sound couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds, but once it was out in the air, the forest began to feel eerily quiet afterwards.

Gideon panted, feeling all of his pent up rage disperce from his being. He fell to his knees, overwhelmed by the relief it caused him. He almost felt like smiling, if it weren't for the fatige his tantrum had resulted in. Pacifica slipped away from behind him, sure he didn't have it in him to fuss anymore.

"Jesus Christ..." Wendy whispered under her breath, looking at Gideon as he slumped forward.

"He really knows how to make a racket." Dipper huffed in agreement. Pacifica almost laughed at his comment, only for the depth of his words to strike a coard with her. She turned pale, her ears perking up to the soft, faraway thundering of flapping. The periodic caw. The trembling of trees and branches and leaves. The birds. They heard him. Dipper looked to Pacifica, a puzzled look on his face, only for the flapping to reach his ears as well.

"Oh, shit..." Dipper snapped, turning his head to the sky. They were coming this way. Though still out of view, it was impossible to miss the choired beating of thousands of wings.

Pacifica shook, her eyes darting around the forest in a frantic attempt to find a place to hide. She twirled behind her, seeing their previous exit quickly transform into an entrance.

"The cave! Hurry!" She wasted no time, skidding to the cave's mouth before ducking inside, followed by Wendy. Pacifica heaved, her heart racing with fear as she pressed her back against the cave's cold wall. She bit her lip, hoping to steady herself, only for realization to spring on her: This cave is much larger then before. Though the lighting had dulled, it still allowed her to peer around the cave and pat her hands along the room. Dipper hadn't followed. He was still outside.

"Dipper! Get your ass in here!" Wendy was quick to register his absence, her face scrunched up and desperate for his survival. Dipper looked to her, only to turn around and grab at Gideon who still laid on the ground, panting. Unable to hear them, Wendy watched as Dipper pulled at Gideon, trying to move him to the cave. Gideon fought however, squirming and balling his fists as he beat at Dipper's chest. There was no way he'd go back to the cave. Partially out of fear, but mainly out of stubborn immaturety and still-present anger towards Dipper and everyone in the cave.

"Get UP!" Wendy heard Dipper shout, grabbing him by the wrist, yanking him to his feet. Gideon jerked his body about, regaining some of his original fire as he tried to pull away from him.

She was unable to hear what Gideon responded with, but quickly shook away her curiosity as the cawing ravens grew louded and louder still.

"Damn it, Dipper... Just leave him!" Wendy burst out with, sticking her head through the mouth of the cave to grab his attention. He looked back at her for a moment, his expression of frustration promptly sleeked over with one of both fear and conflict once he saw her face. Whether it was out of the pureness of his heart or the mutual understanding that Gideon was still needed to remove the birds, Dipper was unable to leave him behind.

His head snapped up to the sky, a large shadow enclosing it just a mile away. A jet black swarm of feathers, compiled of hundreds of little V-styled flocks, all headed their direction. She watched helplessly, Dipper sucking in a breath before turning to Gideon and yanking him in the opposite direction of the cave. He broke into a sprint, Gideon tugged along by the wrist, knowing he'd fight relentlessly if he tried to force him into the cave again.

"DIPPER, NO!" Wendy shot out her hand, the boys already far out of reach, only to be pulled back inside as the birds swooped past the cave. A large berade of cawing, clawing, raveged ravens swept past them with such speed and determination that the girls' hair flew about them in a chaotic tangle. The ravens ignored the cave all together, now pinpointing their only real target: Dipper.

~Dipper's POV~

I swirved my way through the forest, Gideon stumbling in pursuit as I forced him to follow. There was no way of outrunning the birds forever, but as long as we were among the trees, they'd be unable to attack us with precision. My stomach dropped, hearing the bashing of branches and scratching of tree bark from all directions.

"Aaaahhhh!" Gideon cried out, looking back as small black dots swooped between the trees, carefully building in speed. I grimaced, wishing I had left him behind. Wishing I didn't have to drag his fat little body around. Wishing I didn't give a shit about his stupid life. But, of course I did. Even if he was a little shit and I hardly knew him, there was just something so fucked up about letting a kid die.

"Where are we going?!" Gideon bellowed through his sobs, regretting his decision to stay outside of the cave. I refused to look at him, afraid even a small glance would result in my tripping and falling. Instead, I picked up the pace, hoping Gideon would become too tired to ask further questions.

In all honesty, I had no idea where we were going, aside from uphill. The turain slowly became steeper and steeper, my calf muscles burning in response. I felt Gideon faulter every few steps, losing steam at an alarming rate. I cursed myself, hoping to ration my strength just until I could figure out a plan. I had to expose my secret now. Whatever was necessary, I had to do it.  

But, with every grab my mind made for some kind of secret, the shrill cawing of birds quickly distracted me. I was in such a rush of swirling colors and blurred figures that nothing seemed to make sense. Nothing seemed to click as I searched relentlessly for something deep and dark. I couldn't think of anything. I couldn't focus.

The chase seemed to go on for hours, my lungs close to bursting as I continued to drag Gideon along behind me. And, just as I was about to drop to my knees, it began to rain. I felt the cooling sensation overwhelm my senses, the fat droplets pouring from the clouds and bombarding us with a soothing bit of relief. It only willed us to go on for a few seconds more, but we were soon met with yet another stroke of luck.

We flinched slightly, hearing a powerful clash of thunder rip through the air, only to continue our sprint. The birds, however, were left completely disoriented from it, thrashing between trees and swirling up and down through the branches with profound fear. I smirked just slightly, seeing the time it took them to reorganize and continue the chase. It gave enough time to build at least twenty feet between us with each rumble.

Which would have been great, if we hadn't run out of land.

I stood in shock, peering over the town of Gravity Falls far beyond our reach. We stood at the edge of the cliff, unfinished railroads a dangerous drop below us. Maybe sixty-seventy feet. There wasn't a chance of surviving the fall. And, even if there was, it wasn't like we could run away once our legs were broken.

"No way..." I breathed, my brows knitting together in disbelief. I released Gideon, still unable to surface some kind of personal detail about my double life, listening intently as the birds came closer and closer.

"Aaahhh! No! This- This can't be happening!" Gideon whined, tugging at his hair. I turned his way, trying with all my might to come up with something. Anything to confess to. I still drew a blank.

A single bird, the fastest and smartest of the bunch, shot through the trees and just barely missed my neck. I jumped slightly at its boldness, otherwise unfazed. Gideon, on the other hand, was completely shot with nerves once he saw its bleak feathers. He shrieked at its proximity, the wetness of the grass working against him as he lost his footing. Within seconds, Gideon tumbled over the edge of the cliff.

"Gideon!" I shrieked, sliding to where he had fallen. I peered down, ignoring the bird's persistant pecking and clawing as I went on. For a moment, I shook with nausia, unable to see Gideon's fat figure over the edge. I was sure he had died.

"H-Help!" Came a voice from below. I stuck my head further over the edge, making perfect eye contact with Gideon who clung to the root of a tree that stuck out of the side of the cliff.

"Holy shit..." I breathed for a milisecond, relief overflowing me as his pale blue eyes met my brown ones. The relief was short lived however, hearing the birds close in on us.

"Pull me up!" Gideon bawled, his sweaty palms slipping from the root. I gasped for a moment, shooting out my left arm to him as he took it. He held onto me as well as the root, afraid one mistep would lead him to plummet to his death. I huffed, trying to pull him upwards, only to be met with overwhelming fatige and Gideon's undeniable gurth. He had even less will in him than I did, unable to pull himself up halfway. His grip was beginning to faulter.

"Give me your other hand!" He went on, and I almost did. I stopped, however, remembering just why I had given him my left hand instead of my right: The cuts. God, no.

"Hurry!" Gideon pleaded. I hissed, feeling his nails dig into my wrist, the rain sleeking up my arm as it lost its friction. I felt my right arm, cramped up as it remained snapped behind my back. I had spent the last few hours with it mindlessly hidden behind me, as if a child hiding a bad report card. I shook, viewing Gideon's poor and pathetic expression of grim desperation and fear. Below him was a plummet to his death. Above him were a multitude of birds ready to devour him. All I had to do was reach out. Grab him. Pull him up. Expose myself...

No. Jesus, why? I felt tears well up in my eyes before rolling down my face in a hot stream. Shame overflowed every one of my senses, the undeniable sizzle of pain and embarassment evident as I made my slow movements.

I recalled every cut I had made. How I had made them with such excitement and relief that it hardly felt okay to do so. In reality, I hated self harming. I hated it so much, because it never felt good for long. I would always feel so beautifully clean while doing it, like this tightened pipeline of muck and slime had been loosened, allowing for the waste to flow out of me and disperse. But, it never lasted. I had been wearing long sleeved shirts for over three weeks, unable to show anyone how often I did it, nor how deep I'd gone since starting.

My arms. Once in a while my thighs... Bits of my stomach. My shoulder blades. My chest. The sides of my torso. The backs of my knees. Even the knuckles of my toes. I soon realized that my body was limited on space. And, even though I had carved up my being, digging deep within the tissue, I still felt as though I hadn't done enough. At first, it was just the arms. The backs, not the fronts. But, soon after Candy... After what happened that night, I switched out my glass shards for disposable razors.

I started doing the backs of my arms as well as the fronts. I explored the cancer that was my body, hoping to cut away whatever Candy wanted from me. Hoping it would disguist her, as it did myself. The way I began to overlap my cuts, seemingly never enough room for more. I'd wake up in the mornings, Candy still asleep and drooling over a pillow, to look over my body. I hated it. I wanted to cut it all away, the white lines. The pink lines. The dark red lines that almost appeared black and rotten. How they were dotted with slight brusing along the edges, where possible internal bleeding had begun.

Candy never seemed to mind, though. She circled me all the same, so much so that I began to wonder if she preferred me broken... I could never escape it. The relief never seemed to last. I always went back for more, as if craving some kind of sick, demented dessert.

I slid my arm away from behind my back, lowering it for Gideon. He looked at me in desperation, quickly slapping his pudgy little palm around my bare wrist. That's when I saw it, the sickening expression I had hoped to avoid once this all started. A shiver went down his spine, feeling the course, risen lines along my arms. As he did, the birds burst through the forest.

I bunched up my shoulders, feeling the wind snap around us as the ravens enclosed us in a giant orb of swirling birds. They went on like that, circling and circling us, making sure there was no way of escaping. The thunder continued, throwing off their rhythm, but left them otherwise undetered. Gideon's head snapped up, viewing the birds, only to meet my eyes, dulled and pitiful. In an instance, he looked back to my arm, ignoring the birds as the circle they captured us in became smaller and smaller.

Soon, the birds would have us just inches from them and be sure we could never escape. I had to speak up now.

"I-..." I began, speaking in a low tone as the wooshing of air became unorienting.

"I'm very sad..." I could feel my throat tighten, yet another season of tears brimming over, sliding down my cheeks to rest awkwardly at my chin. I rubbed it away with my shoulder, continuing.

"Sometimes, when I get really sad... Sometimes, I don't know what to do, and I know I can't talk to people-" A bird swooped down, slicing open my cheek. I hardly noticed it, staring at Gideon with apologetic eyes.

"So, this is what happens... This is what..." I bit my lip, burying my face in the sleek grass as the tears overwhelmed me, a whole new wave of depression and self loathing crashing into me. The birds got closer still, their wings brushing against us periodically. Their tallons took small slices of me, their cawing voices shaking my eardrums. I looked down at Gideon, sporting his own scrapes and cuts, readying myself for my confession. I squinted my eyes shut, holding back my next stream of tears, wetting my lips to speak. The birds, it seemed, were just about ready to deliver their final blow.

"I cut..." I finally let out, meeting Gideon's gaze despite my own shame. His eyes seemed confused, obviously still living within his little world of rational people who did rational things. He took a moment, figuring out exactly what I meant when I said 'cut'. As he did, the birds began to rise, their pecks and scratches becoming far more frequent and uncontrollable. We were in the mist of the attack.

I watched him, his cheek slit open as he stared at me, not even registering the pain as his eyes filled with confusion and concern. Feathers covered him, entangled in his thick, white hair. He looked to me, then to my scars. So large. So many long cuts, deep and driven by anguish and misery.

His eyes soon shone with understanding. Tilting his head up, the bird's tallons tearing at his clothes, his strained expression met my vulnerable eyes.

"You... cut..." A shiver went down my spine, seeing the shock and disbelief I had brought upon him. I felt as though I should respond to him, only to be pulled from my thoughts by a hurrendous shriek. The birds, red eyed and devious, let out curdling cries at Gideon's realization. My secret. Exposed. The birds had fulfilled their end of the deal. It was time for them to return to their original form.

I bunched up my shoulders, hoping to block out the glass shattering pitch of each cry, the ravens thrashing about in anger. They flew into the air. They plummeted to the ground. Some, still holding onto the last bit of power they had, tried to finish me off and claw my eyes out. I covered my person as best I could, much to their annoyance, feeling as their small bodies soon gave up on me and accepted their transformation. Back to a flock of dumb, uncordinated, non-flesh eating ravens.

Once I felt they had gone, I looked to the sky, seeing the large migration take flight and disappear beyond the storm clouds. There was a moment of silence, watching them recede, only to remember the tubby little tween clinging to me for dear life.

"Whoa!" He went, his foot slipping as he tried to hoist himself up. My body lurched forward, grabbing armfulls of him as I used my remaining strength to drag him up.

"I've got you." I rushed out, sliding his body up to lie crumbled on the grass. He panted for a moment, rubbing his palm over his cheek to whip away the small drops of blood those birds had drawn from him. He grimaced at his hand, seeing the redness of it all, and I just had to wonder if that was concidered a lot of blood.