This is an idea that came to me a few months ago, but I didn't start writing it until yesterday. This takes place in the canon universe, about a month after the finale.
They had a reputation. How many times Pacifica had heard those words. Usually that phrase accompanied something her father scolded her for doing that was beneath the standards of a Northwest.
Northwests were wealthy. Their status and possessions meant everything. Without it they were nothing more than common filth who didn't deserve the very breath they inhaled. They were above the rest of the crawling critters of society. Only when necessary would they condescend to mingle with the lower species.
A Northwest meant always appearing to be in control. According to her mother a woman bearing their name must always look her best. Emotions must never have any say in a decision.
That name. Northwest used to inspire respect for the family that supposedly founded the town. Of course the Pines boy made sure to correct her on the reality based on a document he discovered and a video he supposedly watched. Having stumbled upon the hidden room herself Pacifica finally believed the visiting boy from California.
The name Northwest had been marred by centuries of deciet, theft, and-as she recently found out-murder. Gazing upon those paintings after being branded as just another Northwest, she knew that she was no better. Even when Dipper apologized for his impulse insult, deep down she wondered if there was any truth to what he said in that room.
Emotions must never have any say in a decision. If that were true then Pacifica would not be standing on the other side of the fence that once was her home. The grand house that had once labeled her as the perfect girl now mocked her existence.
Fingers curled around the iron bars. She wondered why the new owner had not changed the letters claiming the rightful ownership to the Northwest family from the main gate. From what she heard from Mabel the man was too kind to willingly mock the previous owners, and was likely too wrapped up in his inventions to have even noticed.
She dreaded what the inside looked like after five weeks of her absence. Very soon she would get to see.
How foolish McGucket was to think a simple iron gate could keep her out. No one knew the manor better than herself.
Pacifica walked around the wall, her hand scraped against the bricks. She now knew how the rest of the town felt when they were kept out by that wall. The hanging ivy once kept healthy now crisped beneath her fingertips.
Pacifica walked to the back of the house. With the Northwests no longer in possession of the house, the security team had been relieved from their positions. Her foot stepped on the line of the pillar that separated brick from concrete. Gripping onto the bricks, she pulled atop the pillar. She squeezed under the deer statue, and careful to avoid the spikes, jumped into the grass below.
Although it was unnecessary Pacifica checked for guards. She rushed to the back entrance. The previous night she realized she still had the key to her old home in her school bookbag. That bag was the only thing Mayla and Julie hadn't had access to.
The key was inserted into the door of the servant's entrance and with a heavy push it opened.
The darkness of the room overtook her. Rarely had she used the back door save a few times she snuck out. The servants were easily bribed to keep her occasionally night expeditions secret.
Now there were no maids running around fulfilling the many tasks her parents assigned in a given day. Her boots crunched on twigs and dirt that had not been swept since the apocalypse. A rancid odor originated from the trash can. Wrinkling her nose Pacifica wondered if the garbage had been left unattended for that long. She shook at the possibility of what vermin that neglect had invited inside her old residence.
She pushed through the scullery and moved upstairs. The door opened to reveal the foyer of the grand mansion. So many memories both fond or horrifying had taken place in that house. She shuddered at the thought of her parents' spirits haunting the place. How certain they were to one day reclaim their rightful home would attract the dead for an eternal stay.
The floor was dusty. It looked bare without the plants, curtains, or the massive maroon rug that once welcomed guests inside. One chandelier and a single sconce was lit giving the place more of a haunted mansion vibe than the vivacious home she had known for thirteen years. At the very least it helped her to mourn her memories.
The staircase that led to the higher floor which included her room stood straight ahead. The blonde checked both ways before dashing over to the steps. Her palm grasped the wooden bannister. It no longer shined, but the familiar feel comforted her just for a second. Her Ugg boots atop those steps made her feel for a moment that she woke from a nightmare to find herself back in her home.
The sound of footsteps brought the girl back to reality. She dashed up the stairs and turned to the right. She ducked down behind the bars and peered out at the man walking through her old house. He carried two plates on a tray to another part of the mansion.
The man stopped and looked over in her direction. His eyes were hidden by hair. Pacifica had moved out of view just in time. The younger McGucket shrugged then pressed on.
The girl slid down against the wall and let out a sigh of relief. Her heart still pounding she pulled herself upon her wobbly legs. The sting in her chest slowly alleviated and she looked up at the next set of stairs. With one hand on the banister she hurried up to the next floor.
Boots slowly approached the second door on that floor. She stopped in front of the white door adorned with a pink and purple flower-shaped plaque that read her name. Pacifica wiped the dust from the sign. In their hurried pack she hadn't remembered to grab it.
Rationalizing that since her name was still on the door she turned the knob and pushed the door open. The empty room echoed as she entered. The door was quietly shut behind her.
A room she once complained was too small, and she had demanded countless times for a larger one now felt like the entire first floor of her current residence. Some of the furniture such as her bed and dresser were spared and moved into her new house. However the couch, the vanity table, and the writing desk had all been sold to pay off bills.
Her parents at least had the sense to keep some of the money in a trust fund for Pacifica that she would receive when she turned eighteen. Her foster family griped every night that they should be entitled to half of that money. Pacifica was grateful that her dad put the money away, otherwise Mrs. Truly and Mayla would have already squandered that large sum of cash.
In that moment Pacifica just wanted to lay down on the floor. She hoped that when she opened her eyes she would be back inside her room with all her familiar furnishings surrounding her. Her maid would wake her with a cup of hot chocolate. Perhaps if she told herself it was just a bad dream enough reality would have pity on her and return her to her old life.
As much as it pained her she approached the closet door. With a deep breath the girl opened the door to the walk-in closet. Her body trembled and tears threatened to fall at the empty space before her. A closet once filled with innumerable fancy clothes and shoes no longer greeted her.
Half of her clothes had been auctioned off. While she owned the other half, Mayla had free access to her wardrobe whenever she wanted. Thus far she had already ruined two of her dresses and her favorite red blouse.
The sound of the room next to her opening caught her attention. She listened to the sound of heavy footsteps for about a minute. The door then closed. She heard the footsteps approaching the room she currently occupied.
Her heart rate increased. Quickly she grabbed hold of the closet doorknob and slowly closed it. She held her breath as the door clicked into place. She backed up against the back wall of the closet.
The door to the room opened. The man from before walked inside. He stood in the room with his hands on his hips. Pacifica listened to him pace around what used to be her room. The footsteps headed for the exit. Pacifica let out a sigh of relief.
The tracks stopped. Pacifica froze when she heard the man head for the closet. She pushed her body against the wall willing it to suck her in. The doorknob turned and Pacifica shut her eyes. Behind her eyelids the darkness lightened. She heard the man clear his throat.
Blue eyes opened to see the large man staring at her with crossed arms. Although she could not see his eyes due to the long bangs, his mouth alone showed he was displeased.
"I don't know how you got in here, Miss Northwest, but you know trespassing is against the law," Tate said.
Too many times he had warned his father to lock the doors. Now that he had valuables people would sneak in and try to take them. Fiddleford argued that none of that stuff was his and anyone who wanted it was free to have it.
Pacifica nodded. "I-I just wanted to see my old room one last time," she said. She pushed by the large man. "I'll leave now."
Tate watched the girl flee from the room. He walked to the doorway to see her jump on the stairs. By the time he reached the staircase she was almost at the bottom.
"Miss Northwest," he called.
The girl looked up. The man no longer looked angry, but she wasn't going to give him a chance to close in on her.
"Do your pare...fam...guardians know you're here?" Tate asked.
Pacifica shook her head.
A minute of silence passed between them.
"I'm-I'm going," Pacifica said and walked back down the staircase.
She arrived back in the grand foyer. The memory of her recent thirteenth birthday when she descended the stairs before a crowd, dressed in a flowy white ball gown. The newspapers were there for photographs. How everyone adored her.
For a second time she reached the bottom step on her way out of her once home. Only this time it would be forever.
"A visitor!" a voice called from the left.
Pacifica turned to see the new owner of her mansion himself-Fiddleford McGucket. He looked almost the same as she remembered him before he regained his sanity. Now he spent most of his time working on his inventions and making up for lost time with his family.
From what she heard around town, several people have tried to swindle money from Mr. McGucket, but he was always too wrapped up in his work to ever answer their calls. Tate tried his best to keep the vultures away.
Tate joined the others. He put his hands on his hips and said, "This is why I tell you to keep the doors locked."
"You're the one who sold me this place," Fiddleford said. "I don't understand why you and yer family wanted to leave, but I like it."
Pacifica lowered her gaze.
Tate interrupted. "It's getting late and Miss Northwest is on her way out."
"You can't stay?" Fiddleford asked. "We've had no dinner guests yet." He went to invite Ford to dine with him twice, but received the message from Soos both times that Ford was still out at sea.
"I really can't," Pacifica replied. Mrs. Truly would flip if Pacifica came in after six, let alone ate at a place fancier than her own.
"Maybe some other time," Fiddleford offered. He stepped towards the blonde. "You can bring yer whole family."
Again Pacifica cringed. "That will be difficult," she said.
A moment of silence passed.
"I can find the exit," Pacifica said.
She sauntered over to the front door. She glanced over at the switch that opened the main gate. She recalled the night she went against her father's orders and broke her family's curse. Who knew that would be the last party she would ever attend in the manor.
The girl glanced back at the McGuckets. At least someone worthy finally held the deed to the mansion.
As she reached for the doorknob Fiddleford called, "You and yer family are welcome here anytime." He gave the girl a smile. "Ya might not live here no more, but it's still yer home."
The teenager didn't know how to respond. She returned his smile and offered him gratitude for his offer.
With that she turned and left the mansion.