˜"*°•.˜"*°•IV•°*"˜.•°*"˜
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𝗦𝗼 𝗶𝗳 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗾𝘂𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗹
𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗱
𝗜 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻, 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹
𝗖𝗮𝗻'𝘁 𝘄𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗿𝘀?
𝗪𝗲𝗹𝗹, 𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗺𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘀
𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂
𝗜𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗺𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘀
𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂
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~.~.~.~
2 hours post-mortem.

        Giving psychiatric lectures at a local college was something Dr. Mabel Gleeful-von Kaiser had gotten used to. And, typically, the colleges she spoke at were only full of those who truly wished to be there and had the same passions as she had.

        However, there was definitely some place else she'd rather be that day. She would've rather been with Pacifica to talk with her about the proposal, and to give her as many helpful tips about pregnancy as she could.

        It was rather exciting but for a variety of reasons. The top two being that she was excited to have Pacifica as a sister-in-law, and that Dipper was finally happy with his life. He'd put a lot on the line for a long time, pushing his own wants away for the sake of his career. But, meeting Pacifica had sparked a change in him that Mabel was happy to finally see.

        "We're just about ready for you, Dr. Gleeful." The dean said.

        "Perfect, I just have to take this." Mabel gestured to her phone which had just flashed with Pacifica's name. "It'll be just a few minutes."

        The dean nodded and walked back into the lecture hall as Mabel answered the phone and put it to her ear.

        "Hey girl, I'm just about to give a lecture, but I have about five minutes so—"

        She was cut off by choked off sobs and sniffles.

        "Paz? Is everything alright?" Mabel eyed her surroundings and took a few steps toward the window. "Did Dipper already screw up the marriage? Ugh, can't believe him."

        "M-Mabel," came Pacifica's trembling answer. "God, he's dead! I-It's on the news right now, my god, he's dead. Some. . .someone shot him, god Mabel it's awful I. . ."

        The rest of Pacifica's distressed rambling fell upon deaf ears. It was all Mabel could do to keep her hand on her phone as her world slipped from its axis. And despite always being prepared for the worst things, and always having a level head on her shoulders, she fell to the ground and cried.

~.~.~.~
2 1/4 hours post-mortem.

It was her first day off from work in over a week so Candy was determined to get some housework done. Aurelio was out shovelling snow from the driveway, insisting to do some work for himself, and Howell was in the sitting room watching television, last she saw it was the news.

So, Candy was in the kitchen cleaning a few dishes up from their late breakfast when all of a sudden Howell just started screaming.

Immediately, she dropped everything and rushed into the sitting room where she knew Howell was and found him pointing a shaky finger at the television, eyes wild and wide and frightened.

"Howell, what—" her eyes landed on the text displayed under the news bulletin. Something shattered, sending sharp splinters throughout her but the pain was dull in comparison to what her eyes were seeing.

Howell rushed toward her, burying his face into her chest, but she couldn't hear anything. She knew he was crying, she could feel the trembles of his body against her own, but she couldn't hear anything other than white noise.

Aurelio came into the room, his voice muffled by the layers of static Candy found herself drowning in. He tried to get her attention by standing in front of her and Howell, she could see his lips moved but no sound came out.

And being the smart man that he is, Aurelio turned to see what they were looking at. No more than a second passed before Candy felt his arms around her, hugging her and Howell tight.

~.~.~.~
6 hours post-mortem.

Not for the first time a small prickle of dread crawled over her skin, sending a frenzy of messages toward her brain.

The back door was left slightly ajar. It had been properly locked up tight when she left that morning. Meaning someone was in the house.

She dropped the bags off to the side, feeling around the windowsill for the dagger she kept hidden under a hollowed-out rock. Some people hid keys, Scarlett hid weapons.

With the blade tucked cleverly in her fingers, she advanced slowly, eyes darting around for any sign of movement. Creeping, Scarlett pushed open the door and heard the signs of television blaring in the other room where she'd left Mrs. Porter. She shouldn't have been so nervous, because Scarlett knew that Mrs. Porter could handle herself, but now there was too much at stake.

Not making a single sound, she crept past the dining room and

"Boo!"

Scarlett whirled around, concealing the knife behind her back as her heartbeat rose back to a level that was considered a little higher than normal.

"Ha! I scared you! I scared you! I gotcha!" The little boy taunted with a clever gleam to his eyes. "Mrs. Porter said that I couldn't, but I did!" He clapped his hands together and jumped up and down, giggling the whole way.

Scarlett heaved a sigh and cased the dagger, dropping it onto the kitchen counter. "Yes, you got me, very good." She praised and scooped the boy up into her arms. Pressing a little kiss to the top of his head, she set him back down onto the floor and turned her attention to the dagger she brought in.

"Did you buy groceries?"

"Yes."

"Did you get food for Kiki?"

Scarlett had to think back to which of his imaginary friends Kiki was. "What sort of food does Kiki eat?" She asked with insouciance, walking back to the back door where she'd left all the groceries.

He followed her, "hmm, I think Kiki eats seeds and bugs."

Scarlett stopped rather abruptly and she bent over to pick up the discarded bags. "Who is Kiki again?"

"The bird!" He exclaimed with childish glee. "Remember, Mommy? Kiki sits over there! She's right there!" He pointed a stubby little finger over to the fence that connected Scarlett's and Mrs. Porter's backyards.

The giant raven that hung around, then. Scarlett was painfully aware of the symbolism behind ravens, which both annoyed her and caused a certain amount of discomfort. The fact that he managed to befriend a raven into sticking around was a little creepy, but Scarlett honestly expected no less from her son.

"I didn't get anything like that, I'm sorry." Scarlett confessed, slinging a few bags over her arms. It was getting pretty cold outside, and she hated the fact that he was out there without a jacket on. "We'll get some next time, okay? Let's get inside, baby."

They walked back inside and Scarlett ushered him back to the living room where she knew Mrs. Porter was sitting. "Did you put him up to this?" She asked, arms crossing over her chest out of habit.

"I did no such thing." Mrs. Porter shook her head from where she sat on a La-Z-Boy with a cup of tea. "Char's gotten the jump on me and he wanted to try it out on you."

Scarlett hummed as she returned to the kitchen a room over. "I appreciate you watching him but if you're just going to fill his head with these ideas, I might reconsider."

Mrs. Porter just laughed. "He's your son, Scarlett. He ought to act like you."

"I'd rather he didn't." Scarlett muttered, mainly to herself at that point. She didn't need Char going down the same path she went down. The whole point of moving to North Caldwell was so he could live a normal life. "I'm going to start dinner, alright?"

She spent the next thirty minutes puttering around the kitchen as she fixed something up for the three of them. If someone had told her when she was fifteen that in her mid-twenties she'd be free of her father's lifestyle and settling down to a comfortable life with a lovely neighbour who used to be a hitman herself, and a son who saw the beauty the world had in store, Scarlett probably would've stabbed them. It just didn't seem possible for someone like her.

But there she was. And she was happy.

When she brought dinner to the two people which she molded her life around, the night news was on, showing a few stories that Scarlett wasn't really interested in. Politics happened to bore her after all, she'd gone her whole life learning how to manipulate them. It was boring.

As she absentmindedly sipped a glass of wine, her hard liquor days behind her, Mrs. Porter gained her attention once again.

"Oh, honey, didn't you know him?"

Scarlett gave a confused little hum as she tilted her head back up to the television screen. It was recapping something that had happened in Seattle earlier that day. Scarlett tried not to listen to anything that came out of Seattle due to unnecessary feelings that happened to linger, and quite a few of them, no less.

The news was showing a story coming out of Seattle, and Scarlett was now certain it had something to do with Dipper Gleeful. She used to keep tabs on him, after her abrupt departure from their. . .thing, always keeping herself just out of his reach. It was for the best. He needed something better than Scarlett could give. But when he started the case against her father, Scarlett went as far away as she could get. The other side of the country, to be precise, prayed that her luck would keep them from meeting again.

But now that she was looking at a flurry of ambulances, coroners, and detectives, and not seeing the famed Detective Gleeful anywhere, her hitman brain put the conclusion together for her and displayed it on a projector inside her head.

"I did." Scarlett finally managed to say, finding it harder to speak, like her throat was closing up due to anaphylactic shock. That was weird. Dead people never bothered her, it should never have bothered her. She was made to be that way. To withstand shock that others could not even think to bear.

"Was he. . ?" Mrs. Porter asked, eyes flipping between the sides of the room.

"No." Scarlett said firmly. "We never officially dated, and that's the man. . ." She trailed off, knowing that Mrs. Porter probably had better insight on who Scarlett actually was. That she knew her as both Scarlett Valiant and Scarlett Valentino. "He was a good friend of mine." She went with instead. There was no need to discuss it with Char in the room.

"Aw, I'm sorry dear." Mrs. Porter sympathised, "I'm sure he was a great man."

Scarlett went for her glass and stopped abruptly as she stared into the dense red liquid sloshing around inside. Something about it left her feeling unsettled, and that was what concerned her. Holding the stem between loose digits, she leaned back. "The greatest."

~.~.~.~
2 weeks post-mortem.

        It was a cold day in mid-March when the funeral was held. Some thought it was too sudden, that everything regarding it was too fast. Decisions were made swiftly and quietly, though that didn't stop reporters and journalists hounding every single member of the Gleeful family.

        That was one of the reasons the funeral happened so fast. Because the world kept pestering them, not letting them have one moment's rest.

        It was a private affair. He would be buried at the Manor's private lot, because it was easier to restrict public access. Even on the day of, people clambered outside the gates that led to the Manor, trying to snap pictures or get anything out of it.

        Guards had been posted, courtesy of the CLB, and they didn't budge for anyone.

        It was a brief ceremony, the wind chill not allowing for anything longer than an hour. And he was buried next to Will, exactly as he would've wanted.

        Pacifica was just tired of it all. That someone had broken the door that led to her heart so she had to freeze in the winter. Sending a blizzard of pain hurtling at her in every direction. She could hardly look at Mabel without being reminded.

        But most of all, she was worried about the baby. Of course it would be the ever-reminding presence of Dipper in her life, and she was sure she lacked a lot of the courage to move on with her life now. She'd planned for her life to be so sweet, starting a family with Dipper was beautiful, and the fact that he'd wanted to marry her on the spot was just the icing on the top of the cake.

        Yet, it was destroyed and displayed for all the world to see. And she wouldn't get what she had dreamed of.

        The after-party —if you could even think to call it that— was less than formal. Only a select few people were actually allowed to attend, demanded of by Mabel Gleeful-von Kaiser. It was the first time the old friend group was back together; Pacifica, Mabel, Gideon, Cody, Grenda, Candy, and even, shockingly, Scarlett.

        It was such a shame that Dipper was missing it, and that his death was the only reason everyone was together again.

        It wasn't just the old friend group. Spouses were invited, and their children, and Director Vogt was there as well. Detective Jenkins attended and was uncharacteristically quiet the entire time, passing his brief condolences to everyone.

        Victoria was already asleep by the time the after-party started, which Pacifica believed was a good thing. She was barely two years old, she wouldn't understand what was going on. The only other kids were Howell and Charles. Howell understood quite well, and maintained a rather solemn aura the entire time.

        But Charles? Judging by what Pacifica had heard about the kid, he was a bright individual who was always presenting a sunny demeanour; yet even at the age of five he understood the severity of the situation. She supposed it was to be expected of Scarlett's kid.

        Nearly two hours later, Pacifica watched as Scarlett disappeared, soft footsteps taking her toward the front door. It broke Pacifica's heart just a little bit. Perhaps Scarlett was feeling terribly overwhelmed by everything that was happening. So, she decided to follow her toward the door.

        "Scarlett," she called and Scarlett hesitated at the door, her fingers curling into a tight-packed fist at her side. "Where are you going?"

        With one hand lingering on the doorknob, she craned her neck until her eyes could meet Pacifica's. Her face, so impassive, eyes so empty. It was unnerving, though Pacifica could understand that not everyone reacted the same way to grief.

        "I'm going to do the right thing." She replied, evenly, voice as firm and unwavering as a blade of serrated steel.

        It didn't take that long for Pacifica to comprehend what Scarlett was getting at. "You can't," she rushed over to Scarlett's side, gently grabbing the hand that was a pending fist. "I know what you're thinking, but Director Vogt has every detective at her disposal searching the globe for those men."

        "I'd rather deal with them myself." She spat, voice a little kinder than a sneer, and face a little softer than a scowl. She tugged her hand swiftly out of Pacifica's as if it were burning her. "I don't really give a damn if Vogt's public appeal is on the line. This means far more to me than approval ratings."

        "And what about Charles?" Pacifica asked, casting her eyes toward the other room, and Scarlett's eyes willingly followed.

        Charles was sitting on the floor next to Howell, pointing to the bandage on his knee as though he were recounting a tale of great adversity and adventure, to which Howell followed along with widened eyes, listening to a tale of woes.

        "Scarlett," Pacifica tried again, "he needs to be with his mom."

        "Pacifica, where I'm going, he can't come with. I refuse to let him see anything like that." Scarlett shook her head furiously. "It's dangerous, that is true, but I was trained to best anyone who came across me. And I've already spoken with Mabel about this, but I need your help; I need you to help watch him for me, okay?"

        So that's what she was planning. Scarlett intended to go after the men who stole Dipper's life. How would she even. . .oh, right. She was an experienced hitman, after all, Pacifica shouldn't have been that surprised.

        Nevertheless, she tried again. "Scarlett."

        "I've made up my mind." Scarlett stated firmly. "It's my fault he's dead."

        "You dunno that." Pacifica whispered, horror flashing through her mind as she pieced together what Scarlett was hinting at. It wasn't possible. Because. . .because Dipper had untangled and destroyed the long chain of Dan Valentino's underlings. Every single one of them had either died in the process of keeping their secrets, or had been tried and sentenced to prison for the foreseeable future. He'd won.

        Right?

        Scarlett took a step back, inching her way out of the manor bit by bit. "I studied the hit, I know this isn't what the news is portraying it as. I've. . ." She trailed off, biting into her bottom lip, casting her eyes to the floor.

        Pacifica didn't need to hear the end of that sentence. I've done that, it was dreadfully obvious.

        "You want justice, right?" She eventually spoke up again, regaining a bit of her lost composure. "So do I, and this is the only way I'll ever make sure it gets done. So, please. Please help take care of Char for me."

        "I can't stop you." Pacifica shook her head, "but I will do what you've asked."

        And just like that, Scarlett disappeared into the cold night.

~.~.~.~
1 year post-mortem.

It took her the better portion of a year to find the two men who murdered Dipper Gleeful. Stalking a weeks-old crime scene, pairing the method used by the killers to her own knowledge of where to go after a job was finished. Scarlett was certain it was the men who trained alongside her in the early days of her youth.

It wasn't a wonder that Dipper's investigation didn't pick them up. He was clever, Scarlett knew that, but the people that killed him weren't utilised often. They, on paper, had no ties to her family. It was why they were the perfect men for the job.

After a week of staking out the place they were staying, figuring out timing intervals, when they left, and when they returned, Scarlett was ready. She didn't like using guns, she preferred knives. And, no, it wasn't like the Joker's reasoning in the second Batman movie, she didn't like torture. No. Guns were more traceable and left more evidence than a knife did. Guns left bullets, ballistic markings, and if you were super irresponsible, gun-powder residue.

Scarlett did not get as far as she did as a hitman without figuring that shit out.

When both men were out of the house, Scarlett advanced. Picking the lock was a breeze, and she strolled in with ease, twirling her blade between her fingers idly. What made her such a stellar killer was the fact that emotions never hindered her from following orders. Yet, for the first time, she was out for blood because she desired it.

An unquenchable thirst that drove her to the brink of despair. She wanted to see their blood splattered against window panes, to feel it run thickly through her hands as it slowly dripped onto the floor beneath her feet.

She sat in the kitchen, twisting the same blade, and waited for nearly three hours, never once losing sight of her goal. And when they came into the house for the evening, Scarlett was ready.

They chatted aimlessly with each other, unimportant drivel that filtered out of her ears until all she could hear was white noise.

"Hello, Aramis." She greeted the first man with a nod, turning her gaze to the second one. "Dante."

Both men reached for different areas of the kitchen, both places Scarlett had personally searched. The fear in their eyes when they came back with nothing was priceless, though she was far too focused to find it amusing.

"Aw, no weapons? I wonder why that is?" She taunted with a click of her tongue. "Don't bother running off to look for the others; I found them."

"Who the hell are you?" Aramis demanded, trying to appear as the stronger one, it was dreadful, truly. He wasn't the most powerful person in the room, not by a fucking mile.

"Disappointing." Scarlett murmured, rising from her chair and cracking her neck swiftly, dagger still balancing between her nimble fingers.

Realisation struck Dante first, though Scarlett wished the honour was hers. "Holy shit. . .that's little Lettie."

"Not so little anymore." Aramis grunted. "I'm fuckin' shocked that you managed to find us here."

"Though, not as soon as I would've liked." Scarlett explained, "I wanted to offer my congratulations and thanks." She'd spent far too long thinking about it, she knew exactly what cards to play and which to hold back to her chest.

Aramis took a careful seat, igniting a cigarette quickly. "Thanks? For what?"

Scarlett rolled her eyes. "You always played dumb, Aramis, but I know our techniques when I see them blown up on the silver screen. It was too perfect; make it look like a robbery, and take out the Valentino's biggest adversary."

Both men's eyes widened.

"Truly, I am grateful for what you've done to that wretched detective." Scarlett let out a light laugh, keeping them completely ensnared. "I'm sure when my father hears that it was you two, he will be quite thrilled."

"He already is." Dante chimed in. "After all, he's the one who told us to do it."

Just as she'd thought. "He's a great man, it's unfortunate the situation he got himself in. But, as you know, there's no room in the Valentinos for weaklings. I'm personally seeing to that."

"Whatdya mean?" Dante asked, leaning comfortably against the doorframe.

"Well, we aren't over, clearly." She paced the kitchen floor with grace. "My father may be gone, and my sister may be out for publicity reasons, but I'm still here. And I plan to continue my father's work. It's my legacy, after all."

"We're loyal to you, Miss Valentino." Aramis declared boldly, standing so fast that Scarlett nearly shoved her knife into his throat. Placing a hand to his heart he continued, "you are the last of the Valentinos, to which we pledged our loyalty to until the day we die."

"Your father held high praise for you!" Dante agreed, seemingly not wanting to be outdone by Aramis. "I know that you will rebuild the Valentino Empire in the blink of an eye, allowing us to rise and shine brighter than the sun once again. United under your leadership."

"Like a phoenix from the ashes!" Aramis shouted.

Scarlett let out a most unbecoming giggle for the first time in years. This was what it felt like to finally lose it. Snap. Control slipping through her fingers like sand in an hourglass. It felt so damn good.

"A wonderful image indeed, and the Valentino name shall go down in history." She flipped the blade between her fingers and continued her pacing, stopping dead in front of the two men who worshipped her. "Unfortunately," she sighed, "you killed the only man I ever loved; and there is no forgiveness for such an act."

The last thing Scarlett remembered before her vision became encased in red was the look of shock on their faces. What a pity, she'd hoped to see the agony as she drove her blade into each of their disgusting, rotten, shrivelled hearts.

Step one done. All that was left was to take out the true antagonist.

~.~.~.~
2 years post-mortem.

Things had changed in Pacifica's life. That much was to be expected after all of the everything happened.

In the span of a year, she'd moved back to Reverse Falls, taking her career with her, moved into Gleeful Manor, and taken in Capgras.

Not only that, she started raising her daughter, Macey, with all the love and support of Mabel and her husband. Of course, it was strange at first, but she'd talked about being roommates with Mabel when they were teenagers.

She just didn't expect it to be like this.

Pacifica was grateful for all the support she was receiving, and eventually, everything felt completely normal.

Sticking close to family felt right, so she decided to keep with it.

They all had their schedules, it was true. Jenson worked in-person with his company, and out of office as well. It fluctuated frequently, but that was to be expected for the CEO. Mabel insisted on working from home as often as she could to help with all the kids, in the rarest of occasions, she would have to go into her office.

For the first year, it was hard. Dealing with all the kids: a kid, a toddler, and a baby. But by the time Macey had turned two, it was all routine.

Char and Vicky spent time together doing the most mundane children things, and it was clear that Vicky idolised Char and it left plenty of time for Pacifica and Mabel to handle Macey, and keep an idle eye on them.

It was late in the second year that Mabel invited everyone over again for a get-together, insisting that it was something they should certainly do at least once a year.

"I'm glad you've gotten back into writing again." Candy commented, watching idly as Howell and Char ran past them with giggles and whispers.

It was true, Pacifica had started working online again, writing articles for everything she was passionate about. A lot of them had to do with governmental issues, and she was sure most people knew why.

"It feels good." Pacifica confided. "Getting back into writing was tricky, with everything that happened, and just taking the time off for Macey." She glanced toward the couch that Macey was seated on.

Macey was still figuring out how to walk for more than five minutes, and it left her tired often.

Candy smiled warmly. "You're doing a wonderful job. Especially with the enforcement." She gently jerked her head in the direction of the couch.

Next to Macey, as he'd been since she was born, was Capgras. He curled up near her, and every time something or someone came too close, he'd get defensive and let out a yowl.

"I just wish he wasn't so mean about it. He hardly lets even Mabel get near him, much less Jenson." Pacifica couldn't help the stifled laugh that managed to sneak through. "I think he knows."

"Knows what?" Candy tilted her head, it was clear she was only asking to be polite. Candy was clever, terribly smart, and the most observant person Pacifica knew since Dipper. She knew exactly what Pacifica meant.

"That she's Dipper's kid." Pacifica explained. "Capgras has been very protective. He couldn't stand to be apart from me before Macey was born, but after? Pfft," she waved and hand and smiled, "it was all about Macey. I think he only lets me near her because he knows I won't put up with the attitude."

"They say animals are very perceptive." Candy acknowledged. "It wouldn't surprise me in the least if he knew."

Everyone gathered for dinner a the back patio, Jenson, Aurelio, Gideon, and Cody all arguing over who should grill and all claiming they were the best. Pacifica joined with Candy, watching with glasses half full of wine, as the arguing was being determined over arm wrestles, and then laughing when Mabel snuck past all of them and started grilling.

The burgers were nearly finished by the time the men had crowned a champion.

The kids were entertained by Char, who decided to start a game of stealing hats, sunglasses, and watches from everyone. It was cute to see Howell act as though he had nothing to do with it, and then pull off a distract so Char could pilfer Jenson's wallet.

When the sun was starting to set, Pacifica started feeling sentimental in the worst kinds of ways.

Because she deeply wished that Dipper could've been there with them. That he could've either joined in with the arm-wrestling, or snuck past them to assist Mabel with cooking.

Pacifica could picture it.

Dipper being the equivalent to the final test for the children's game of pilfering. Dipper regaling everyone with tales from the CLB. Dipper being over-protective of Macey. Dipper leading the kids with conniving games.

Oh, how she wished it could be true. She could imagine exactly how their lives together would be, if only he were still with them.

She was broken out of her rumination by a sudden deep-growl emanating from where Macey was laying with Capgras.

Immediately, she noticed three things;

One, Macey was sound asleep.

Two, Capgras had stood up and was growling.

Three, Char was trying to sit next to Macey.

"Be careful, Char!" Pacifica warned, already rising from her chair. "He's very protective over Macey."

Capgras hissed as soon as Char got too close, standing protectively in front of Macey. Hackles raised, he looked like he was ready to strike.

Yet, Char simply tilted his head and smiled.

Pacifica moved closer to remove Capgras from the scene when she heard the cat let out a different sort of meow. And, right before her very eyes, allowed himself to be pet by Char.

He stroked Capgras behind the ears, earning a few quiet rumbles that could only be discerned as purrs. With a beaming grin, he turned back to look at Pacifica. "I think he likes me."

Pacifica felt a huge surge of relief as well of sorrow course through her like a wave. Gentle, but persistent.

Relieved that Char hadn't been bitten or clawed at, but sorrow over the fact that perhaps Capgras didn't know Macey was Dipper's child. Her feelings of sorrow ebbed away, like the tides at night.

She supposed it was better that Capgras was kind to kids.

~.~.~.~
3 years post-mortem.

"Why did you come here?"

Scarlett sat behind a sheet of bullet-proof glass holding a corded phone to her ear, staring blankly ahead at the man who raised her. Who took any shred of happiness in her future and snuffed it out like a candle. Who made her into such a monster, incapable of loving, incapable of showing remorse.

It made her stronger, sure. But she lost a lot from it.

"Needed to confirm if it was true." Scarlett replied evenly. "When the news came to me about your imprisonment, I was baffled. More so at you for being stupid enough to get caught."

Dan simply laughed, and suddenly Scarlett was twelve again. Her body went rigid, and she nearly flinched. Despicable behaviour, little mistakes, overcompensated punishment.

"I was worried about you, y'know?" Dan continued, as though nothing were amiss. "Thought you were growing soft; that sure as hell ain't the girl I raised."

"No, it's not." She agreed, placidly. "However, there is another reason I came here today."

"And what's that?" He glanced back at the camera monitoring them in the corner.

"Aramis Dimitriadis. Dante Dubois." Scarlett deadpanned. "Those are the men that performed the hit on Detective Gleeful.

For the first time in her life, Scarlett witnessed a sheer look of surprise cross her father's face. Like he was behind on the joke, and it finally dawned on him. He caught up.

"You know their last names." He commented, plainly.

Satisfaction began to bubble beneath her skin. Getting dangerously close to boiling into something new and easily defined; anger.

"It wasn't tricky. They each gave their true names up when they believed they'd be spared from my anger." She explained, eyeing the few cameras in the room. It was best to play it safe and make sure she wasn't confessing to anything.

Dan went silent for a moment. It was a treasured moment, that for once, Scarlett had gotten the upper hand against her only remaining adversary.

"You did this," Dan finally spoke, "because of what happened to him? Lettie, you know that this is how it goes. He wronged the family, and he had dues to pay."

Scarlett slammed her fist against the table. "He had a life. A job, he was going to be a father, he was going to get married, he—"

Something must've clicked for Dan. "You didn't love him, did you?"

"That doesn't matter." She shook her head, frustration seeping from her fingers. Dripping down like the blood of the men she'd slain.

But now Dan was furious. "That was how he found out. It wasn't just Wendy," a pained look crossed his features, "it was you. You were how he found out."

"He was a brilliant man, you see. He didn't need anyone's help. He figured it out all on his own." Scarlett declared. It wasn't all a lie. In truth, it was a lot more complicated than that. But, the main part was true; Dipper had pieced it together with little to no confirmation from her. "And I know that Dipper Gleeful will haunt you for the rest of your pathetic days."

"I don't believe this bullshit." Dan spat, eyes mirroring the same feelings of rage that Scarlett had been suppressing for the last three years.

"You better believe it; you're a monster who deserves everything that has happened to you. The Valentinos are dead, everything you worked for is dead. You'll never hurt me or my family ever again." Scarlett rose from her chair and stared down the man who was Hell's first monster.

She believed she'd gotten the last word, that he'd have nothing else to say. She was about return the phone to its hanger when she heard a light chuckle.

"Your family? You can't be saying. . ." Dan spoke, completely amused by whatever he was piecing together. "You have a kid."

Scarlett flinched.

And Dan let out a boisterous laugh, slapping his hand onto the table. "Oh, little Lettie, the Valentinos are not dead. Things are going to be looking up for us after all!"

"Don't lump him in with you! He has and will continue to have nothing to do with this shit!" Scarlett hissed, ready to shatter the glass and strangle him.

Dan cocked a brow. "Him, huh? It's a boy? Well, this is wonderful. I can't wait to meet him."

"You'll never lay your fucking eyes on him. I'll fucking kill you before you can." Scarlett declared, a threatening promise that she intended to keep.

But Dan just kept laughing. "Oh, little Lettie, our paths will cross, just you wait. It's nature, after all; he's a Valentino. He'll grow up to be just like us. And I'm sure he'll do great things."

Scarlett slammed the phone down so hard it split down the centre. Shutting out his words only fixed it for a second, and the weight of his words set in like moths to the flame.

He's a Valentino. He'll do great things.

~.~.~.~

Thank you to everyone who read this story, I truly hope you've enjoyed When Somebody Needs You as much as I've enjoyed writhing it. Word count for WSNY is a whopping 55,995 exactly. Which, does in fact, make it a full novel by most standard claims. It's kind of amazing to me that I was able to write nearly 56,000 words in the span of early April to late August, but enough about that, and let's get on to something I've nearly spoiled from the beginning.

There will be one final chapter. I had planned it that way since the beginning, but couldn't make it public without spoiling the ending for WSNY. Think of section v (entitled the seasons of cicada days which is a lyric to a Will Wood song, shocker) as a short sequel to WSNY.

As I've stated, SCD will be the final section in this book. Everything that may follow after it are strictly things I either jotted down whilst working on this hefty project of mine, or extra little things that didn't make it into the final publication. But, no promises.

SCD will take place fourteen years after the death of Dipper Gleeful, and it covers the span of one simple week. Don't be deceived, it turns out that one week can pack a lot of content for characters, it will (most likely) be the lengthiest section of all.

Enjoy the upcoming; the mystery, the drama, the dog, the romance, the characters (new and old), a bunch of quote references, and a certain amount of closure that everyone deserves.

Stay tuned for a late-September/October publication. I promise you will not be disappointed.

Stay safe out there and keep smiling my lovelies!

-Kaori Miyazono <3