The next morning at the Mystery Shack was hectic, to say the least. Soos and Melody rushed to get breakfast ready for the twins before they departed for the ski lodge, Dipper and Mabel fretted over whether their winter gear was truly ready for an Oregon winter, and Grunkle Stan paced around, loudly declaring that any time wasted at the shack was time he couldn't spend at the lodge's spa. When Grunkle Stan had heard the words 'all-inclusive' in connection with their invitation to the lodge, he had vowed to take full advantage of everything the Northwests had on offer.
Before long, Dipper and Mabel had piled in the back of Stan's old sedan, fully dressed in weather-appropriate attire. After a moment, Stan emerged from the Mystery Shack, wearing a well worn red jacket with a faux fur lined hood. He climbed into the driver's side, mumbled something about the fit of the old coat, and turned the key in the ignition. There was a grumble from the engine, but it didn't start. Dipper and Mabel exchanged a worried glance.
"Stupid good for nothing rust bucket," Stan exclaimed, turning the key again as he slammed his fist on the dashboard. This time, the engine turned over and began to clunk to life. "See kids, sometimes violence is the answer."
As the car backed up through the parking lot, the tires squealed and groaned against the packed snow beneath them. "Grunkle Stan, do you have tire chains?" Dipper asked nervously.
"Psh, tire chains? On this junker? Might as well ask if I have rearview cameras. Or turn signals."
"Dipper, you didn't even know what tire chains were until yesterday when Wendy told you, " Mabel pointed out.
"Not helping, Mabel," Dipper muttered.
Despite Dipper's growing anxiety over driving through the snow, soon enough the old sedan was out of the woods and passing through the town of Gravity Falls. Though like the Mystery Shack, the town itself looked like an entirely different place once blanketed under a layer of snow. Window displays were decorated with wreaths and lights, the streets were lined with piles of gritty gray snow pushed aside by snowplows, and the usually distinctive townsfolk were all dressed in knitted hats and puffy jackets.
"Pinch me Dipper, I'm dreaming," Mabel sighed, completely enamored by the beauty of the scene.
As they pulled to a stop at the main intersection in town, they saw one of the vacant parking lots had been turned into an ice skating rink. Of the various skaters enjoying their day, Dipper and Mabel could clearly see Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durand performing an elaborate figure skating routine together.
"I never would have guessed they were so athletic," Dipper mused as Sheriff Blubs flawlessly executed a double axel jump to the delight of his partner. As the light turned green and Grunkle Stan stepped on the gas, Dipper also noticed a posted advertisement for the Gravity Falls Murder Mystery Express, a cheesy theatrical performance that took place at the Gravity Falls Heritage Railway. He made a note of it, figuring maybe they'd get a chance to see it during the break.
The rest of the trip was largely uneventful, as the town quickly gave way to a winding road leading to the top of the tallest bluff in Gravity Falls. At a certain point, Grunkle Stan attempted to lighten the mood with a stand-up comedy cassette, but he accidentally mixed it up with a tape of Gregorian chants, leaving the trio listening to a recording of Dies Irae as they ascended the bluff. Mabel and Stan were annoyed by the lack of observational comedy, but Dipper found it oddly fitting for some reason.
Towards the summit, Dipper and Mabel began to see hints of clearings between the trees, as well as delighted skiers and snowboarders carving powder on their way down the manicured runs of snow. Their car made one final dramatic turn of the road, and the Northwest Lodge came into full view.
The structure towered over the road, clearly intended by Preston Northwest to intimidate visitors as much as accommodate them. The building had three main sections: two wings that jutted out on both sides, and a grand lobby could be seen dead center. Only two full stories tall, windows in the gables of the roof implied a third story in the attic.
"Whoa," Dipper breathed, "I'm sure the Northwests would disagree, but this almost seems grander than their old manor."
"Yeah," grumbled Grunkle Stan, "Leave it to a rich jerk like Northwest to fail upwards."
"Look, a snowman!" Mabel pointed out the window to a group of teens building a snowman. As they approached, they saw the group was actually Wendy's gang, and the snowman was a very distraught and cold Thompson, the punching bag of the group.
As they reached the front entrance of the lodge, Stan slowed his car and turned to pull into a parking space. Then, not quite satisfied, he drove through to the next space across, even though a driver in the next aisle over was clearly about to pull in. The two drivers exchanged rude gestures as Dipper and Mabel exited the backseat.
"So broseph, what are we doing first?" Mabel asked as they made their way across the slushy pavement to the entrance. Dipper looked around, spying ski lifts, an in-lodge restaurant, and even a steamy, outdoor hot tub area. It was overwhelming, to say the least.
"Well…" he began as they entered the lobby, but before he could continue, they were spotted across the hall by Pacifica.
"Pines Twins!" she exclaimed, running across the length of the hall to greet them. Her long, platinum blonde hair hadn't changed since they last saw her, but instead of wearing a name brand designer dress, she was decked out in a matching hot pink jacket and ski pants, with a fashionable headband wrapping around her ears.
"Pacifica!" Mabel exclaimed in return, opening her arms wide for a hug as she approached.
She quickly looked around, then pulled both Mabel and Dipper into a hug together. Pulling back, Dipper noticed that Pacifica looked happier than he had ever seen her. The genuine grin plastered across her face was something he had only seen passing glimpses of over the previous summer. While the youngest Northwest exuded charm even through smirks and scowls, Dipper found something especially electric about her smile. "Hey Pacifica," he said, suddenly realizing he hasn't greeted her yet. Maybe it was just his imagination, overreaching thanks to Mabel's constant insistence that something was actually there, but it almost seemed like Pacifica's smile got ever so slightly bigger once Dipper said her name.
"Hey Mabel, I think there are some people who are excited to see you," Pacifica gestured up to the balcony. Mabel glanced up, immediately spotting the grinning faces of Grenda and Candy, both excitedly waving down at her.
"Grenda! Candy! I'll be right there!" Mabel shouted upwards, to the distaste of some of the passing guests of the resort. Before taking off like a rocket, Mabel shot a sneaky glance over Pacifica's shoulder to her brother, followed by a wink and thumbs up. Then she was gone.
As soon as she left, however, Dipper found himself suddenly unsure what to say. It had been a lot easier to talk to Pacifica when he had only thought of her as his friend, but thanks to the seeds of doubt planted in his mind by Mabel, he suddenly started overthinking every possible thing he could say.
Almost sensing his discomfort, Pacifica's earnest grin slid into a smirk. "You had all this time to think up a good line, Pines."
Dipper laughed, adjusting the knit cap on his head awkwardly, "I guess I thought that I'd slip more naturally back into being in Gravity Falls and I didn't think to practice an opener."
"Well, I was hoping to get skiing at some point today, if that interests you at all. We could workshop something for you on the ski lifts."
"Uh, yeah," Dipper finally spit out. "Skiing sounds great."
Behind them, Grunkle Stan entered and looked around the lobby, before his attention turned to Dipper and Pacifica. She looked up and waved politely. Looking between his nephew and Pacifica, Stan quickly put two and two together. "Hey Blondie, where's the spa?"
"Excuse me, sir," an irritated voice called out from off to the side. Preston Northwest strode up to the group, peering down from his nose at the young and elder Pines. "Did you just address my daughter as if she was the concierge?" Pacifica's smile shifted to a mortified, thousand-mile stare.
"No, I asked my nephew's friend a question," Stan retorted back. Clarifying the situation did nothing to clear Preston's irritation.
"My daughter, associate with the likes of you? Curse the thought," Preston spat. He reserved an extra cold stare for Dipper, which was an unwelcome surprise. While he and the elder Northwest were at odds in the past, he had assumed that the events of Weirdmageddeon would have changed Preston's feelings towards him. Incorrectly assumed, it would appear.
Dipper looked to Pacifica expectantly, but she looked down at her feet and played absently with her hair.
"Isn't that right, Pacifica?" asked Preston, now turning his icy stare to her. She nervously looked up at him, then to Grunkle Stan, narrowing her eyes.
"Psh. As if I want this smelly old man in the mud baths, we have standards here," she sneered. Dipper turned to Pacifica, surprised. She noticed his look, her eyes widening slightly at the realization.
Preston chortled to himself and walked away, spotting an arriving dignitary he wanted to schmooze with. Once he was out of earshot, Pacifica silently pointed out the spa entrance further down the lobby. With a grunt, Grunkle Stan wandered off, leaving Dipper and Pacifica alone again. Dipper could only stare at her, aghast at the way she had just treated his grunkle. Pacifica tried nervously smiling, but it was no use.
"So," Dipper started, after a long silence, "that happened."
"Dipper, I'm so sorry."
"Yeah, uh-huh," Dipper looked around, uneasy. Where before he couldn't think of what to say out of anxiety, now he found himself without anything to say at all.
Pacifica again forced a smile, desperately trying to bring the situation back to where it began. "So, I can show you the pro shop and we can get you all set, and then we can go skiing! Okay?"
"Actually, Pacifica," said Dipper, awkwardly running his hand across the back of his head, "I think the spa sounds pretty good right now. I think I'm going to join Grunkle Stan for a bit."
"Oh. Okay," she nodded, looking back down at her feet. "I guess I'll see you later then?"
"Yeah, sure," said Dipper, starting to walk away toward the same hallway Stan had disappeared down. Pacifica stood frozen in place, watching until he disappeared.
"Are you sure this is safe?" Candy asked nervously.
Candy, Grenda, and Mabel stared down from the top of a ski hill. Having never skied before, Mabel shared Candy's apprehension. Grenda, on the other hand, scoffed.
"YOU GUYS, THIS IS THE BUNNY HILL," she bellowed, pointing in annoyance to a group of children half their age gleefully skiing down the slope.
"Yeah, but I've still never done this before," said Mabel, Candy nodding in agreement beside her. Grenda sighed heavily.
"SKIING IS JUST STANDING AND LEANING. LEAN HARDER TO SLOW YOURSELF DOWN, USE YOUR POLES TO PUSH YOURSELF FASTER."
"We don't all have boyfriends who live in the Austrian Alps," Candy pointed out. She leaned forward to look down the hill once again. Unfortunately for her, she shifted her center of gravity in the process and started to drift down the slope. "Help, I'm slipping!" she exclaimed.
"NO, YOU'RE SKIING!" Grenda corrected, starting to follow along with Candy to make her feel safer. "COME ON, MABEL!"
Watching as her two friends descended the hill, Mabel took a deep breath. "Okay Mabel, you got this. Just lean forward." Nothing happened. "Just gotta leeeean forward." Still nothing. "Any time now. Gonna lean forward." Finally, she allowed herself to lean forward ever so slightly, setting herself in motion down the hill.
The first few moments were exhilarating as Mabel gained speed, the snow kicking up around her boots as her skis carved through piles of powder. Mabel laughed as she tried leaning side to side, and found that her skis followed her leaning and piloted her in whatever direction she wanted to go.
However, as she neared the bottom, she spotted two dark lumps straight ahead of her down the hill. She tried leaning to swerve, but it wasn't enough to overcome her downward speed. "Aaaagh!" she screamed, attempting to purposefully fall to slow herself down. She succeeded, her skis and poles flying in several different directions as she rolled down the hill into the dark lumps.
"Hey, watch it!" a familiar sullen voice exclaimed as Mabel came to a thudding stop. She looked up to see Robbie and Tambry, both looking over their shoulders, glaring down at her.
"What are you doing sitting on the ski hill?" Mabel asked, pulling herself to her feet.
"We're snowboarders, duh. That's what we do," Tambry explained, turning back to her phone. Mabel now noticed the two of them had snowboards strapped to their feet, and they appeared to have been sitting on the hill for some time.
"But…why?"
Tambry opened her mouth to explain, but nothing came out. She looked at Robbie for help, who just shrugged. "It's just a snowboarder thing, Pines," said Robbie.
After realizing she wasn't going to get any further explanation, Mabel smiled. "Well have fun with that! Sorry I crashed into you!"
Gathering her skis and poles, Mabel managed to pull herself back together and continue skiing down the hill. She saw Grenda and Candy waiting together at the bottom, so she directed herself towards their general direction.
"PIZZA!" Grenda shouted up at her.
"WHAT?" Mabel shouted back.
"MAKE A PIZZA WITH YOUR SKIS," Grenda clarified. Mabel pointed the ends of her skis together, and the friction the sides of the skis created with the snow was enough to gently bring her to a stop. Grenda and Candy approached immediately, concerned.
"Are you okay Mabel?" Candy asked, concerned.
"I HATE WHEN SNOWBOARDERS JUST SIT ON THE HILL!" Grenda yelled angrily.
"Guys, I'm okay!" said Mabel reassuringly. "I actually got the hang of it towards the end!"
"GOOD! READY FOR ROUND TWO?" Grenda pointed towards the ski lift a short ways away.
Candy and Mabel laughed nervously.
Dipper had to admit, submerging himself in mud wasn't what he imagined his trip to the ski lodge was going to be like. But now that he was neck-deep in the sludge, he couldn't deny it felt great. Given he was prone to sudden bursts of anxiety and racing thoughts, Dipper was delighted to find his mind was as clear and comfortable as his body.
"You know, Grunkle Stan, I never would have thought to try this myself," Dipper admitted, turning to his right to where Stan was submerged. Only his head was visible above the surface of the mud, and he closed his eyes with a look of bliss on his face. It was probably the most serene he had ever seen his Grunkle Stan.
"One thing you'll come to realize as you get older, kid. Comfort is the richest of all the luxuries. Besides, you've got Ford's head on your shoulders, you're gonna need a lot of self-care in your future."
"Thanks?" Dipper questioned, unsure how to take his uncle's comment. "Speaking of, have you heard from Ford? Is he coming up?"
"He said he might drop by for dinner if he can find a ride. He's still off chasing his energy signals or microwave ovens or whatever's got his goat this week."
That sure sounded like Ford. Dipper nodded, allowing the spa to fall silent for a moment.
"Though I've got to be nosy for a bit," Stan continued. "When I asked Blondie where the spa was, I was really just looking for a way to leave the two of you alone. What happened?"
Dipper scoffed. "I don't know, man. I feel like every time Pacifica seems to have turned things around, she goes and does something... Northwestern. I would have felt bad going off with her after the way she treated you."
Up until this point, Stan hadn't bothered turning to look at Dipper during their conversation, opting instead to float his head on the mud with his eyes closed. But this was enough for him to sit up and face his nephew directly. "After the way she- Dipper, I'm used to everyone treating me like dirt. I spent most of my life in town here trying to fleece everyone in sight with taxidermy and parlor tricks."
"She insulted you to impress her father, Stan."
"You idiot, she was obviously doing whatever she had to do to make him go away."
That was…plausible. Pacifica had stood up to her parents before, but at the end of the day, she still had to live with them. Having to deal with that kind of pressure daily couldn't be a healthy environment for her. And if that wasn't enough, Dipper realized, the spa he was enjoying was courtesy of Pacifica's invitation. He blew her off, only to take advantage of her wealth without her.
"Man, I suck," said Dipper, his body sinking further into the warm embrace of the mud.
"Look, kid," Stan continued, "I know a thing or two about bad fathers. And teenagers. And Blondie, believe it or not. Wendy's right, she works at Greasy's now, and I've had her as a server. Kind of chatty, slow with the coffee, not really what I appreciate in a waitress if I'm being honest. "
"And?" Dipper prodded, hoping Stan would reach some kind of point eventually.
"And I don't think there's been a single time I've gone in there that she wasn't gracious, humble, and working her butt off."
"That's another thing," Dipper interjected, "She wrote me a letter every week for months, why didn't she mention that she was working at the diner?" Ever since he had learned this about Pacifica the other night, his mind had been running through plausible scenarios as to why she didn't mention it. She couldn't be embarrassed to tell him, she knew full well her status meant nothing to Dipper.
Stan shrugged. "Beats me. She's got nothing to hide about it. If I was still running the Shack, I'd have poached her like that." Stan snapped his fingers for effect, splattering mud towards another spa guest.
"Hey!" cried the nasal voice of Toby Determined, "Some of us are trying to relax away our rashes over here." Stan's face wrinkled into a disgusted frown.
"Yeesh. Anyway, all I'm saying is, stop being so serious, cut Blondie some slack, and have fun. I think there's more to the story than you're seeing on the surface here."
"Wow," said Dipper, "I have to admit, I didn't expect you of all people to have a soft spot for Pacifica Northwest."
"What can I say, she's calculating and has a knack for mean one-liners. I respect that."
Dipper sighed, standing up to make his way to the spa showers. "Okay, Grunkle Stan. I'll go find her."
"Great, kid. I'll see you around," Stan waved as Dipper wandered out of view. "Hey Toby, what makes you think mud is going to help with your rashes?"
"Desperation!" came the pitiful response.
Wind whistled past Mabel's ears as she rocketed down another ski run. As Grenda slowly introduced her and Candy to progressively more challenging runs over the course of the day, Mabel found herself laughing at the idea that she was ever afraid to ski. Following behind Grenda, Mabel learned quickly how to control her speed just by using the angle of her skis.
Looking down the hill as it sloped into a steeper drop, she noticed several slalom poles arranged down the center of the run. Grenda turned her head back, grinned for a moment, and carved her way in and out of the slalom run.
"Show off!" Mabel laughed, bracing herself to try to follow. She managed to slow herself enough to make it through the first two poles, but couldn't manage to correct herself in time to make the second. Instead, she found herself drifting too far to the right, close to the edge of the run, nearby where the old forest still stood. Covered in snow and stretching into the sky, their beauty dwarfed any luxury accommodation that the Northwests could bring to the slopes.
At least, that's what Mabel thought when she first glanced at the forest patch. Out of the corner of her eye, the woods began to give off an eerie vibe. She slowed her speed to look again, now noting that unlike the stately Pacific Northwest pines she was used to seeing throughout Gravity Falls, with their straight-lined bark and towering branches, these trees were covered in nettled vines, wrapped around the trees in twisted formations. While from a distance the trees looked like they stood straight, it was clear up close that there was far more of a bend to them, and the upward growth spawned from awkward places on the trunks.
Candy, who continued to trail slowly behind Grenda and Mabel all day, slowed to a stop nearby. "Mabel?" she called out. "What's wrong?"
"These trees," Mabel replied, "There's something weird about them, but I can't quite…"
Before she could finish, one of the vined branches swung down towards her. Mabel quickly darted out of the way, and the branch smashed into the snow where she had been standing.
"I think it's time to take a break from skiing!" Mabel cried out, pushing herself back in motion with her ski poles. Candy quickly followed suit, crying out in panic as a second branch stretched out towards her. Breathing quickly, she propelled herself back to the center of the run, vowing to keep a healthy distance from the forested patches until she could find Dipper.
It didn't quite sink in for Dipper how large the Northwest lodge was until he found himself rushing from amenity to amenity looking for Pacifica. He started in the main lobby, quickly scanning the various comfy couches and lounge areas scattered throughout. There were plenty of familiar faces from town, but no Pacifica. The restaurant was a similar story, with a large dining room filled with well-to-do patrons and intricate details throughout to study and marvel at, but now wasn't the time.
The coffee shop on the upper balcony level was smaller and easier to search, but still empty. After coming up empty in the gift shop, workout area, and business center, Dipper was starting to wonder where else he could even look. That is, he thought, if she hadn't just given up on him entirely and was out on the slopes skiing on her own.
As he exited the mailroom, he noticed a stack of visitor's guides and took one. Inside, the panels unfolded into a map of the full ski resort, with a cutaway section focused just on the lodge. Dipper carefully studied the cutaway, hoping there was something he missed.
"Ohhh," he said to himself, noticing a special concierge lounge on the third floor, "that checks out."
Dipper folded up the map, stashed it into his jacket pocket, and ducked into a nearby elevator. The doors in front of him slid closed, and an old-fashioned hand indicator above the door slowly rotated away from the second floor toward the third. A classy touch, Dipper thought to himself.
The elevator doors opened to the third-floor landing. Being located inside the roof of the lodge, the ceiling came to a sharp pitch, which Dipper noted as he walked down the hotel corridor. Along the way, he passed nondescript doors with numbered signs like in any other hotel. Though unlike in every other hotel Dipper had visited, where he normally felt excited by the novelty of exploration and travel, now he just felt anxious about what he would say when he finally found Pacifica. He didn't have long to dwell on his thoughts, as he quickly reached the end of the hall.
In front of him was a keycard access door to the concierge lounge. Dipper pulled his room key from his pocket, slid it into the card slot, and opened the door following a click. Inside was a room similar in style to the downstairs lobby, but cozier and somehow even more bougie than the rest of the lodge. The centerpiece of the room was a boutique coffee bar, operated by two baristas dressed to the nines.
Dipper looked around the lounge, finally spotting Pacifica seated in the corner of the room, steaming mug in hand, deep in conversation with her mother, Priscilla. She hadn't yet noticed him, and he hoped it would stay that way. He already felt bad enough, intruding on a private conversation wouldn't make things any better.
"Have you tried talking to your father about this?" asked Priscilla. Dipper realized he had never heard Pacifica's mother speak, as she often silently flanked the louder and more aggressive Preston.
"What good would that do? He's not interested in what I have to say anyway," replied Pacifica, taking a frustrated sip from her mug. "I mean, after everything that happened, I'm not the same. You're not the same. Dad just keeps acting like nothing ever happened, and expects us to do the same."
"Its…" Priscilla approached the subject gingerly, "his way of showing love, dear."
"It's cold," spat Pacifica. "Like, it makes me feel like an alien. I'm tired of having to pretend we're better than everyone else." Priscilla pursed her lips. "We're not," reaffirmed Pacifica. Priscilla sighed.
"Maybe you're right, who knows anymore," Priscilla conceded. "I just want peace in our family, Pacifica. And if that means humoring your father as he takes one last victory lap around the community, I ask that you give him the support he needs."
Pacifica opened her mouth to sarcastically quip again, but she suddenly noticed Dipper standing in the lounge entryway.
"Oh," she said, almost involuntarily. Priscilla turned around to see what caught her daugher's attention, and smiled politely at Dipper.
"Hello," she greeted, motioning for Dipper to step forward. "I'm Priscilla Northwest." She extended her hand for Dipper to shake.
"Yes, I know," Dipper replied flatly, taking her hand. "We've met."
"Have we?" Priscilla asked, her voice signaling her confusion but her polite smile remaining almost eerily frozen. Pacifica frowned.
"The party, mom? The ghosts?"
Priscilla's eyes widened in recognition. "Oh, that's it! You were Paz's little friend who helped us out. It was nice to enjoy a spirit-free home. For a while, anyway…" Priscilla turned back to Pacifica, noting the look of frustration on her face. She collected her purse and rose to her feet, moving out of the chair across from her daughter. "I think that's my cue to leave. Have fun, you two."
Pacifica's cheeks flushed slightly pink. "Thanks, mom. Goodbye now." Priscilla smiled thinly, gracefully exiting the lounge. Dipper motioned awkwardly to the now vacant chair across from Pacifica, and she nodded.
"I'm sorry about that, Dipper."
"I probably shouldn't have heard any of that," Dipper muttered awkwardly. Pacifica looked down at the mug in her hands, shrugging nonchalantly.
"It's not exactly a secret that my dad and I don't see eye to eye anymore. You didn't hear anything I wouldn't have told you myself."
Dipper nodded, slowly becoming aware of the growing uncomfortable pause. The silence was only filled by the quiet chatter of other lodge patrons and the occasional loud grinding of an espresso machine. All the rehearsed apologies Dipper had practiced in his mind while searching the lodge for Pacifica had disappeared from his memory.
"Listen, Pacifica, I'm…"
Pacifica reached forward with her mug and pushed it Dipper's lips. Without a choice, or the ability to respond, he discovered she had been drinking a sugary coffee drink. It wasn't something Dipper would have ordered for himself, but he didn't hate it. She waited until he reached up to hold the mug before leaning back in her chair.
"Dipper," she began, taking a measured breath, "it isn't fair of me to expect unlimited chances from you to prove I've changed. I know that. It also was pretty stupid of me to insult Stan when it's been months since you've seen him last. But instead of making today all about apologies and my stupid, messed up family, can we please just go skiing?"
Dipper lowered the mug and placed it on the table in front of them. Pacifica's face held the remnant of her smile from before, trying to restore the spirit of their first moment of reunion. Dipper, fighting the overwhelming urge to babble out a string of apologies, laughed.
"You know, I found out last night that Mabel was reading your postcards."
Pacifica's cheeks flushed pink again.
"She WHAT?"
"Yeah, turns out you were the person from Gravity Falls who replied to my cards the fastest so she wanted to keep up with the latest news."
Pacifica laughed nervously, her hand fidgeting with her headband absently. "Huh. Weird. Anyway, is that a yes to skiing or not?"
"Lead the way, Ms. Northwest."