Gravity Falls, and the journey it's taken me on, has been absolutely wonderful and beautiful, and reminds me so much of how I was when I was the Pines twins' age that seeing it end really was like saying goodbye to an old friend, even though I really only got into the series a little over a year ago. I was sad to see it go, and even sadder that I hadn't written anything for it before it ended, but at the same time, it was still lovely and cathartic, and I can't help but thank Alex Hirsch over and over again for giving us something this great.

growing pains

Knowing that the end of the world as you know it may be lurking just around the corner in the form of an all-powerful demonic dream triangle with an exceedingly annoying voice has a funny way of messing with one's head in a way that really isn't that funny at all – well, Pacifica, at least, doesn't find it particularly humorous, but that just may be the fact that every time she closes her eyes, she can't help but remember the things Cipher had done to her parents, or the sight of her hometown in flames and ruin, or the fact that for a few days she was utterly convinced that she would not live long enough to see her first day of high school.

After all, it had been quite touch-and-go there, for a while.

But somehow they'd survived, and even saved the world in the process (even though the only things she really did to help were to wear a dumb sweater and get turned into a tapestry, which she makes a point to tell just as much to anyone who will listen, because Pacifica Northwest is done taking credit for other people's successes, thank you very much) and although though the town's been relatively normal for a few days now – or as normal a place like Gravity Falls can be – something still feels utterly off to her, to the point that she finds herself back at the Mystery Shack with the demand that Stanford Pines examine her to make sure that she hasn't been contaminated by any lingering residual weirdness.

Of course, since the universe obviously hates Pacifica (because her family going bankrupt and having to sell their mansion and all but one of her ponies clearly isn't enough) Ford isn't at home when she arrives at the Shack, too busy mucking around town and the surrounding woods to confirm that Bill and his horde are really and truly gone, side-by-side with his brother, and neither is Mabel – who would have at least put in an effort to be sympathetic to Pacifica's plight had she been there, but no she apparently had to go off with her friends to make sweaters for gnomes – leaving Dipper alone to man the fort in their absence.

A part of her knows that, had the circumstances been any different, Dipper wouldn't have wasted the opportunity to mock Pacifica for her family's recent fall from grace and high society, but the effects of the last few days have left their mark on them all. She sees it in the tired and hesitant way Dipper opens the door to the Shack, how he peers around it suspiciously before recognizing her and opening it fully, eyes widened in surprise despite the dark circles beneath them. Pacifica nearly cringes when his gaze meets hers: he's nearly four months younger than her, and only a few days short of turning thirteen, but it's almost as if the bloodshot brown eyes looking back at her belong to someone much older, someone who's seen and lost far more than she can ever imagine.

(The thought is fleeting, but for a moment, Pacifica hopes that the wards around the Shack are still in place, if only for Dipper's own peace of mind.)

Pacifica supposes that's to be expected. The apocalypse does have a way of messing with people, after all, and it's not as if she's any better off than him; the only difference, really, is that she looks much better handling it than him.

(Now that's not fair at all, a voice at the back of her mind that sounds suspiciously like Mabel whispers in disapproval, and you know it!)

What she doesn't expect, however, is for Dipper to continue gaping at her from the doorway, making no motion to either invite her in or turn her away, or do anything at all, really. For a few excruciatingly long moments, Pacifica shifts her weight uncomfortably from one hip to another before deciding enough is enough, and she lets out an exasperated breath before fixing him with the most penetrating gaze she can muster and raising one freshly-manicured eyebrow expectantly.

"So?" Pacifica asks. "Are you going to invite me in, or what?"

It seems to be enough to snap Dipper out of his reverie, and he lets out a halting, "Oh, uh, yeah, come in." as he throws open the door, stumbles back a few steps to let her in, rubs the back of his neck while offering her a sheepish grin as he shuts the door behind her. "Sorry about that – I didn't realize I was spacing out."

Pacifica looks at him pointedly. "I never would have guessed," she deadpans, and is rewarded an instant later with Dipper's breath of nervous laughter.

"That bad, huh?" he asks, jamming his hands into the pockets of his vest. His arms are still covered in bruises, she notes, knees and shins a mess of healing cuts and scrapes – not that her own are any better, of course. "Yeah, sorry. The last few days have been kind of rough."

"I know." The words are out of Pacifica's mouth before she realizes it, but already it's too late to take them back. "I was there, remember? Even if I was a glorified rug for part of it." She looks down, pulls an imaginary piece of lint off of her shirt and drops it with all the apparent boredom and apathy she can feign, eyes still focused steadfastly on her shirt, her nails, the floor – anywhere that isn't Dipper. "How's your uncle?"

The question seems to take him by surprise, and Dipper gapes at her openly for a few seconds before he remembers to respond. "He's, um. Good. Grunkle Stan, he's doing good." He pauses, clearly unsure how to continue. "His memory's mostly back, and he and Ford have been spending a lot of time together after he started to remember." There is another pause, and when Dipper speaks again, his voice is noticeably softer, more gentle. "I think they both want to make up for lost time."

Pacifica's head snaps back up, and she looks at him curiously, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. "Are you going soft, Pines?" she asks.

"What? No!" Dipper responds with a vigorous shake of his head. "Definitely not."

If it weren't for the fact that he sounds absolutely exhausted – she wonders briefly when the last time he got a full night's sleep actually was – and the odd strain in his voice that seems to tell her otherwise, Pacifica would have believed him. Still, she respects his boundaries well enough to not press the matter further, and instead of responding, takes a moment to glance around the entryway of the Mystery Shack.

The amount of repairs they've managed to complete since Bill's defeat is definitely impressive, she thinks, though she suspects a certain amount of supernatural aid must have been involved (she can still smell the distinctive lingering scent of the Manotaurs, for one) and her mind flashes back to the days when the Shack had been their last safe haven as the world around them had erupted into chaos and weirdness. It's hard to believe that everything had happened less than a week ago.

Pacifica doesn't realize she's voiced the thought aloud until Dipper makes a muted sound of agreement. "Definitely not the way I imagined the summer ending."

She can't help but smile at that. "Definitely not," she agrees. "If, before, someone had told me that I'd become friends with a giant nerd from California and his weirdo sister over the summer, I would have laughed in their face and paid them to never speak again."

Dipper rolls his eyes at her words, but he smiles back at her nonetheless. "I was talking about the world almost ending and the very fabric of reality nearly being destroyed by Dorito-shaped demon in a top hat, actually, but I guess I wouldn't have believed the part where I became friends with a spoilt rich brat haunted by a lumberjack ghost, either." His smile at the memory of that night quickly turns into a frown as a thought occurs to him. "You know what? I just realized that I don't know why you're here."

It's an innocent observation, and by all rights Dipper does have some right knowing why she's arrived unannounced at their family's home, but it still takes Pacifica a moment to formulate a response. "Actually, I came to see your uncle," she finally admits, fighting down the blush that's suddenly blossoming across the back of her neck and across her cheeks. "Not Stan. The other one. Ford." She takes a breath, leans back against the wall, and continues. "I want to make sure I didn't get infected by something weird or abnormal while you were off saving the world." Nothing is said of the flashes of memory that invade her thoughts throughout the day, of the cold, inexplicable dread that settles in the pit of her stomach at night.

Dipper bites the inside of his cheek and settles himself against the opposite wall, clearly unsure how to respond. Pacifica merely watches him, notes how his hands seem to be clenched tightly in his pockets, wondering if she will manage to leave this conversation with her dignity still intact when he finally manages to respond.

"I'm not a scientist, Pacifica, and even if I wish I was, I'm definitely not an expert on any of, well, this – " Dipper's hands come out of the pockets, and he waves them vaguely " – but I don't think you're being weird at all." The smile he offers her, now, is weak, and a bit grim, but genuine all the same. "I mean, we survived the apocalypse – "

"Weirdmageddon," Pacifica corrects. "That's what everyone in town's calling it. Weirdmaggedon."

He rolls his eyes, at that, but Dipper's still smiling. "Fine," he concedes. "Weirdmaggedon. The point is, even though we came out on top, and Bill's gone, I don't think we… I don't think any of us are going to get better. Not like how we were before all this, anyway. But I think it's better this way, like that's the way it's supposed to be. Like we all became stronger from this, or something, even if it takes us a long time to realize it." He shrugs. "If that makes sense at all," he finishes lamely.

Pacifica merely stares at him. "Was that supposed to make me feel better?" she asks. She's surprised by how soft her voice sounds, and Dipper clearly is, too, if the way his body stiffens is any indication.

"I… Look, Pacifica, that came out wrong. Let me try again – "

"Was that supposed to make me feel better?" Pacifica asks again. Her voice is stronger now. "Because if it was, I think it worked. Sort of, at least." She exhales deeply, and looks at him, and offers him a genuine smile. "Thanks."

Dipper merely blinks at her owlishly. "You're welcome, I guess?" But he's relaxed now, at least – his shoulders don't seem as tense anymore. "I heard about what happened to your family, by the way."

Pacifica freezes, unsure of where the conversation is heading, or how to respond. "So what?" she responds, voice airy and light, if a bit sharper than she'd intended.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry it happened." Dipper tilts his head to one side and looks at her curiously, and if he notices how the way he says it so earnestly has caused her to blush again, he says nothing. "No one's life should change that much, even if they are a pampered little rich girl." He smiles at her again, and even though she can't help but roll her eyes and scoff, she returns the smile all the same.

And it's then that Pacifica realizes something: the world almost ended, and she'd nearly died at least twenty times over the last summer alone, and, sure, maybe her family had lost their entire fortune over the course of a few terrifyingly strange days, but she's alive – they all are – and if this is how her adolescence was meant to begin, then maybe everything that's supposed to come after isn't going to be so awful after all, even if it will take time for it to really seem that way.

So, in typical Pacifica fashion, she responds: "Whatever, Pines. I still got to keep one of my ponies." And when Dipper starts laughing, awkward and tired and genuinely happy, all at the same time, she joins him, and for the first time she can really remember, Pacifica knows that everything is going to be okay.

The majority of this fic was written shortly after I watched "Take Back the Falls", and remains largely unedited because of my own sentimentality (because I think it summarizes my own emotions regarding the ending quite well) so I do apologize profusely for any errors this fic may have. It's also the first fic I've written and posted in a very long time, so I'm pretty rusty at this, as well. Heh. And while I suppose this fic could be interpreted as vaguely shippy (hence the tag) I personally didn't see it as such while writing it since, you know, they're kids who had just dealt with the end of the world, and romance is generally the furthest thing from anyone's mind in those situations.

Also, Weirdmageddon (and the entirety of the series as a whole, really) is a pretty lovely metaphor for growing up, and that thought was something that just really stuck with me, and sort of came through while I was writing this, too (or at least, I hope it did) so, yeah.

Thank you for reading, and all comments and feedback are greatly appreciated!

(Fic originally posted to AO3 on February 25, 2016.)