Ford's wrist computer pinged as the trio approached the epicenter of the signal waves. Most of the older trees had ceased moving at this point, and the newer ones had departed for the lodge, leaving the party in an empty clearing of stumps and sawdust. The electronic ping increased in speed and intensity as he moved back and forth, trying to pinpoint the exact center. Finally, he came to a stop as the individual pings merged into one long, uninterrupted tone.
He stomped his boot into the ground, and the sound of a hollow metal clang greeted them. Dipper and Mabel began to dig past the snow, brush, and soil, revealing a metal hatch in the ground. "I'll never understand how so many secret bunkers were constructed in Gravity Falls over the years," mulled Ford. "It's at least as many as Grand Forks, maybe more!" Ford bent down to open the hatch, struggling against the strength and age of the door.
"Great Uncle Ford," said Dipper, pulling himself to his feet. He produced the magnet gun from his jacket pocket and held it out for Ford to take.
"Work smarter, not harder. I like your thinking," Ford laughed, taking the magnet gun from Dipper and firing it at the hatch. A beam of light hit the metal, which strained the hatch against its lock and hinges until flipping open without warning. Dipper and Mabel peered into the open bunker, but with only moonlight to illuminate, they couldn't see far beyond the metal ladder mounted on the side of the metal silo.
Ford returned the magnet gun to Dipper before pulling an elastic band headlamp from his own jacket. He secured the headlamp, turned it on, and motioned for the twins to follow him into the dark. With no headlights of their own, Dipper and Mabel had no choice but to blindly follow Ford down into the depths of the bunker.
Climbing down the metal ladder, Dipper found himself thinking back to the chairlift earlier. While he ended up not having to climb down the chairlift support tower like Pacifica had, he imagined this is what it had been like for her. Following dangerous orders on faith, trusting that the person who gave them to you has your best interest at heart. 'I'd never have this kind of trust in someone who wasn't Ford or Mabel,' he thought to himself. 'It says a lot that Pacifica trusted me like this.'
Mabel, on the other hand, wasn't quite as deep in thought, continuing to sing the Sev'ral Timez song that Ford had used to destroy the tree speakers under her breath as she descended into the dark.
The sound of boots hitting metal floor panels echoed up from the bottom of the silo, signaling to Dipper and Mabel that Ford had reached the bottom of the ladder. In short order, all three of them were standing on level ground, holding still to avoid sending any unnecessary sounds echoing through the entire bunker. As Ford looked around, illuminating walls as his head spun, Dipper noted that they appeared to be in a long corridor, built with concrete walls and communications pipelines running down the length of the hallway.
"This appears to be a forgotten nuclear missile silo," whispered Ford. "Hopefully, whoever is down here doesn't realize what it was built for."
The sound of a metal object clattering echoed through the corridor. Ford spun his head in the direction of the sound, beginning to step gingerly towards it. The group slowly advanced through the dark, flinching as more clattering sounds reverberated around them. After a moment, Ford looked around, noticing that another corridor had branched off from the main one, with a sign labeling the branch corridor as the route to the control room.
As they continued down the branch corridor, the echo of clattering grew louder. But now, the sound was joined with the sound of heavy footsteps and incomprehensible muttering. Ford switched off his headlamp, realizing that in addition to the sound growing louder, a soft incandescent light could be seen up ahead. A light that flickered in and out as a large figure paced back and forth in front of it.
The corridor ended with a bulkhead door, slightly ajar. As the trio reached the door, they piled around the sides of the bulkhead and peered through the opening towards the source of the light. "It can't be…" muttered Ford.
Dipper squinted, trying to make out shapes past the incandescent light. Finally, the creature came into full focus when it stepped out into the light.
A hulking eight-foot tall frame, covered head to toe in thick grey fur, supported by massive bare feet. Its powerful arms pulled open drawers and cabinets, growing increasingly agitated the longer it continued to dig, and its thick fur gently rippled to echo its every move.
"No way," Dipper breathed excitedly. He shot a grin to Ford, who was looking on with similar awe.
"Incredible, this is the same species of cryptid Stan and I saw in the Arctic," added Ford.
The massive cryptid continued rifling through filing cabinets and supply crates, searching for something. The muttering continued as well, but Dipper still couldn't make out any specific words or phrases. He started to wonder if it was even speaking a human language at all when he made out a very specific "trying" from the mumbled speech.
"The old launch console must be what it uses to control the trees, and if we take over, we can put a stop to this. Three against one, think we can take it?" whispered Ford.
"We've fought worse," replied Dipper confidently.
Suddenly, the cryptid fell to its knees and let out an anguished wail. Dipper, Ford, and Mabel exchanged confused glances. "WHY?" it called out into the darkness. Mabel's eyes widened, her mouth open in silent pity.
"Guys, it's sad about something," Mabel whispered, "are you sure we have to fight it?"
"Tactically, that would probably give us even better odds," admitted Ford. Dipper nodded, earning a crestfallen glance from Mabel. Dipper struggled to understand the look, wasn't this the whole point of coming down here in the first place?
"What?" he shot back. "We still don't know what happened to all the missing lodge guests. It might be eating them for all we know."
"Dipper, you're being irrational right now," countered Mabel, frustrated. "The trees were speakers, just like we thought. Whoever made them wanted to scare people, not hurt them. That creature is sad, and I'm going to find out why. If it tries to eat me, then you can attack it." She slowly proceeded into the control room.
"Mabel, what are you thinking?" Dipper frantically whispered, but it was too late to stop her.
Mabel walked over to the side of the sobbing cryptid, looking up at its massive frame. "Hey there," she said softly, "are you okay?"
The cryptid let out a cry of surprise at the sudden intrusion, quickly sizing up the potential danger Mabel represented. It immediately lowered its defenses once it came to the conclusion that Mabel posed no real physical threat to it. "I can't get away from you, can I?"
Mabel laughed nervously. "Usually people say that after getting to know me better."
"I mean you humans," huffed the cryptid, slumping back to sit on the floor. "My father did his best to protect me, but I've allowed everything he built to fall to ruin."
"Did he build the monster trees outside?" asked Mabel. The cryptid nodded.
"He was so proud of his invention. He didn't want to hurt anyone, he just wanted to be left alone. So when he scared all the humans out of this cave, he studied their tools and used what he learned to make trees he could talk through." The cryptid pointed to an old, open-faced microphone on the missile control console. "Any time humans came too close to us, he'd make frightening noises and they'd leave. For the most part."
"So," Mabel asked gingerly, "the trees didn't eat all the people at the lodge?"
The cryptid frowned, disgusted at the mere suggestion. "What? Absolutely not. They were programmed to take prisoners down here as a last resort. But they captured so many of you in the past few hours that I've run out of the food left behind by the cave humans." The cryptid held up an empty box labeled 'US ARMY RATIONS' to show Mabel, before lowering it again, shaking its head. "My father tried so hard to avoid this."
"What happened to your father?" asked Mabel. The cryptid sighed deeply.
"Many years ago, the last time humans tried invading our land, he realized this part of the world was no longer safe for our kind. He went off in search of somewhere we could go that we could live in peace and safety."
"Like the Arctic!" announced Ford, stepping into the room with Dipper.
The cryptid tensed up in fear, suddenly outnumbered by humans three-to-one, but Mabel patted its hairy arm reassuringly. "Ford and Dipper are with me, they're friends."
"Humans do not make good friends," the cryptid replied flatly.
"What is your name?" asked Mabel kindly. The cryptid groaned.
"Nog," muttered Nog. "I don't see much point, though. There was just my father and me, and now there's just me."
"That may not be true," Ford replied, pulling out his phone. On the screen, he loaded the blurry pictures he and Stan had taken in the Arctic Circle. Nog carefully took the phone from Ford, squinting to try and see detail in the picture. As he started to comprehend what he was looking at, suddenly his face brightened.
"That… how is that possible?" Nog asked incredulously. "One of my father's greatest tricks was to make himself impossible for humans to record his existence. This is what would happen when someone would try to photograph him. Are you telling me he's alive?"
"My brother and I saw him out near Northern Alaska this fall. Tracked him for days across the permafrost and tundra. He seems to be healthy and happy." Nog returned the phone, at first gleeful, but his face began to fall as his thoughts wandered.
"Happy, you say. Happy without me."
"Well," Ford stammered, "happiness is relative."
"Nog," said Mabel, "I've got some crazy inventor types in my family too. Those two knuckleheads," she pointed to Ford and Dipper, who chuckled awkwardly. "They tend to get caught up in making things perfect, adhering to weird checklists and plans, and that causes them to sometimes do a bad job of thinking of others."
"Hey!" protested Dipper, "That's not fair."
"Kind of harsh, but okay," grumbled Ford.
"Guys, I'm going somewhere with this," insisted Mabel. "Alaska is big and empty, but it's not perfect. It's next to Canada, bigger and emptier, but also not perfect. It sounds like your dad went off in search of the perfect place for you two to live, and hasn't been able to find it. So he doesn't want to come back and admit he failed."
Nog said nothing in response to this, but he turned to look at Mabel. She smiled sweetly, as if to reinforce her sincerity and earnestness.
"Grunkle Ford can help you find where he is, and you'd be able to finally leave this place and live out in the open somewhere much safer than Gravity Falls," said Mabel. Ford nodded, smiling proudly at his grandniece. Nog looked around at the aging, rusting control room, running his hand along the grated metal floor.
"It would be a blessing to see the mountains again, like when I was young," Nog said softly. "But what if you're wrong? What if he left me on purpose?"
Dipper, standing beside Ford, had anxiously been looking for a way into the conversation. Part of him felt guilty, standing in front of a humbled creature like Nog, for immediately wanting to try and solve their problem with violence. Now that Mabel had diffused the situation, he was eager to help convince Nog to leave peacefully.
The other part of him thought back to Pacifica, and the harm her father and ancestors had caused Gravity Falls, all in the name of protecting their offspring. In an unforeseen way, the entire conflict at the Northwest lodge had been the clash of two fathers trying, in imperfect and selfish ways, to protect their children. But by making the connection between the two, it only made him realize that nothing he could say would help Nog, just like nothing he could say could truly help Pacifica with her parental struggles. Maybe this was one paranormal problem he didn't have an answer for, and that was fine.
"If I'm wrong, it's better to know where you and for father stand than to assume the worst. But I don't think I'm wrong," said Mabel. Nog began to rise to his feet, putting his massive hand on the launch console in order to brace himself. Dipper's eyes widened in panic, but fortunately, the console appeared to no longer function as a launch control for a nuclear missile. He turned to the console and began to press several buttons in rapid succession, followed by hitting a large red button in the center.
"The trees should no longer be a threat to anyone," Nog looked down to Mabel, smiling. "You're a good human." She beamed in return. Nog then turned to Ford and Dipper. "The other humans are further down in the cave. If you show me where my father is, I'll leave immediately and no one will ever need to fear this forest again. Hopefully, once reunited, my father and I will be able to live far from the disturbance of human activity."
"Yes, of course," fibbed Dipper, his mind turning to the various ways humans were currently working to disturb the Arctic. "No human disturbance up there."
A massive crowd filled the parking lot of the lodge, watching as the west wing of the lodge burnt its way to the ground. After the trees set the building ablaze, Wendy and company had retreated back indoors to mobilize all the guests out to the parking lot. However, by the time everyone had been dressed, armed, and evacuated, for some reason the trees had stopped advancing. It was fortunate, in a way, that the second phase of the fight had ultimately been unnecessary. Most of the tired and distraught guests wouldn't have been very useful against the frenzied attacking trees, and someone might have gotten hurt.
But if they had known ahead of time that the trees would eventually stop on their own, Wendy imagined maybe there would have been more voices raised in opposition to Stan's "let the lodge burn down" plan. Thankfully, the Gravity Falls Fire Department had arrived in time to contain the blaze to the west wing of the lodge, so it appeared that the Northwests weren't going to be left homeless.
Preston Northwest sat on the hood of a burnt-out car, solemnly watching the lodge as the fire department tamped down the inferno. Priscilla carefully walked through the rubble to sit beside him, and together they stared at what remained of their fortune going up in smoke.
"Stan was right," Preston quietly admitted. "When I spoke to the insurance company, saying the destruction was caused by accidental fire went over far better than when I tried to claim 'ghost damage' on the old manor."
Priscilla nodded. Originally, when the Northwest manor had been befallen by an old lumberjack's curse, she too had warned Preston that their insurance company wouldn't cover the damage. He didn't listen, of course, but she was at least thankful he seemed to have learned his lesson this time. "And what about Pacifica?"
Preston was silent for what seemed like an eternity. "It's a sobering experience to watch your daughter leave you behind in a hotel being attacked by monster trees, Priscilla. Everything I've done, I've done for her. Maybe I've done unscrupulous things, but it was always to give her a better life."
Priscilla took a deep breath. "To give Pacifica a better life, or to maintain the legacy of the Northwest family?" Preston scoffed at the question. "I know you believe those are one and the same," Priscilla continued, "but Pacifica clearly doesn't anymore. Maybe it's time to admit that she's never going to have the life we set out for her to have, and make our peace with that."
"How can I be expected to face that kind of failure?" asked Preston, finally turning to Priscilla for the first time since she sat down. In response, she wrapped her arm around his shoulder.
"She wouldn't see that as a failure. Continuing to do things like this," Priscilla gestured to the flaming wreckage in front of them, "and alienating our daughter would be the failure. And while we're on the subject, you're not going to make her quit the diner, either."
"Priscilla!"
"Pacifica has learned more about how to survive in the real world from a few months working in customer service than she ever has from us. We're not rich enough anymore to insulate her from everything. If you truly want her to be a successful Northwest, she's going to need to know how to build something for herself. That's something of value you can give her that your father never gave you."
Preston was silent again, Priscilla's final words cutting deep. He didn't have long to ruminate on his past, however.
"Hey, look!" Wendy called out, pointing towards the wasteland of tree stumps and sawdust. An even larger progression of people began to approach the lodge, all missing lodge guests, led in front by Dipper, Mabel, and Ford. As the crowd approached the parking lot, they began to locate and reunite with their loved ones. All around, people laughed, cried, and remarked in awe at the burning wreckage of the Northwest Lodge.
Ford looked around at the intermingling crowd, chuckling to himself. "Job well done, I'd say," he declared, patting both Dipper and Mabel on the back.
"Well, other than the fact that we learned the Northwest family owns a nuclear missile silo," remarked Dipper. Ford's mouth hung open, suddenly recalling the launch console. Within moments, however, he collected himself.
"Well. We're just not going to tell them that until I've decommissioned the missile, are we?" Dipper and Mabel nodded solemnly.
Mabel's face immediately brightened once she spotted a familiar silhouette in the crowd.
"Grunkle Stan!" she cried, waving to Stan and Pacifica, surrounded on all sides, handing out various survival supplies and cold weather gear to the liberated crowd. Stan turned and waved back, beckoning the group to approach. With a bit of maneuvering, they managed to work their way through the crowd to Stan and Pacifica.
"Hey kids, nice work on the monsters as usual," winked Stan, offering a bottle to Mabel. She took it and began to drink deeply, having not drank anything since the glittery mocktail she ordered hours ago.
"I got to say, Stanley," said Ford, admiring the scene. "Apart from the entirely avoidable fire damage, you did a great job holding down the fort."
"Aw, you're just saying that, Poindexter," jokingly gushed Stan. "Anyway, I had some great help. Blondie, Wendy… others who definitely had names..." As Stan continued to ramble about his misadventures, Pacifica turned to Dipper. Noticing a piece missing from his winter ensemble, she pulled up a scarf from her pile of winter accessories and looped it around his neck.
"Thanks for saving the day again," she added, smiling as she tied the ends of the scarf until it hung snugly. As she finished up her work, Dipper sighed. He reached down to pick up one of the bottles of water next to Pacifica.
"I don't know, I don't really feel like I added all that much to this," Dipper admitted, looking down at his feet. "Ford held my hand through most of the scientific stuff, and it was Mabel who did most of the problem-solving. I was just… also there."
Pacifica shook her head and scoffed. "Sometimes, Dipper. Seriously. You got me down from the chairlift. You pushed me out of the way when the cable snapped. And you got me into the lodge before we were pulled away by the trees. So sure, maybe you didn't solve the mystery of the creepy trees singlehandedly on your own. But I'm glad you were here anyway." Dipper looked up to see Pacifica smiling warmly at him, possibly looking the happiest he had ever seen her. He smiled back as he opened the water bottle to take a drink. Naturally, he proceeded to pour water down his face. Pacifica attempted to hold it in, but couldn't help bursting out laughing.
Returning to the safety of the Mystery Shack was a well-deserved respite for the Pines and friends. Ford built a makeshift fire pit in the backyard, giving Stan at least one opportunity to use one of his DIY flamethrowers. As he set the pile of debris ablaze, he let loose a horrifying laugh, enjoying it far too much.
"That's going to haunt my dreams," Wendy muttered to Dipper, who nodded. Soos took the opportunity to dump several boxes of expired trail mix onto the fire, which sent errant sparks in all directions and generally displeased everyone.
"Sorry, dudes."
Despite the sparks and the horror of seeing Grunkle Stan's arson face, the fire did an excellent job warming the party against the winter cold. Dipper took a moment to focus on the smell of burning wood and the intermittent changes in temperature as a breeze blew through, savoring the peaceful moment. It was more 'roughing it' than 'luxury', but Pacifica was right about one thing: he did deserve a chance to relax. Though true to form, Dipper was finding it hard to enjoy the moment as he was still thinking on the role he played in solving the mystery.
"Great Uncle Ford," asked Dipper, "have you ever dealt with feeling like you weren't really as prepared as you thought you were?"
"You mean like when I found myself trapped in another dimension for 30 years and had to rethink everything I knew about reality in a matter of minutes in order to survive?" replied Ford. "Yeah, I think I have an idea of what you're talking about. Why do you ask, Dipper?"
"I guess I just felt like if you hadn't been here, I wouldn't have been able to save everyone and this would have gone a lot differently."
Ford stared into the flames for a moment, before putting a reassuring hand on Dipper's shoulder. "Every time I asked you for your read on the situation, you either already had the answer, or were well on your way. I have no doubt in my mind that you could have handled this on your own. But the real question, Dipper, is would you have wanted to? As far as I'm concerned, mystery solving is a family effort at this point. It took my inventing, Mabel's compassion and craft skills, Stan's leadership, and your determination to see this through to the end. There's nothing wrong with getting help from your team."
Dipper shared a smile with his Great Uncle for a moment, his nagging imposter syndrome finally at peace for the time being.
On the other side of the campfire, Melody chatted with Mabel, who was busy stabbing multiple marshmallows onto a poker. "So are you planning on taking it easy for the rest of the break? I don't know how much of this sort of thing you get up to. Soos implied it was a lot."
"I think we imagined going on a few more adventures," explained Mabel, sticking her marshmallows directly into the flames, "but if nothing else happened until we went back home, I wouldn't be complaining. I never even got to go to the spa."
"You missed out," laughed Stan, setting down the flamethrower and collapsing into a folding chair. "Maybe when spring comes around you can just go roll around in the mud with Waddles."
"Have you been reading my diary?" Mabel's pocket buzzed. She glanced at the phone, before immediately handing it off to Dipper. "It's for you, Dip Dop." Dipper took the phone from his sister, reading the text message on the screen.
PACIFICA: Hey Dipper, if you wanted, I'm working at Greasy's tomorrow. Come keep me company on my shift?
Dipper looked up at Mabel, just after she finished shoving a s'more in her mouth When she noticed Dipper looking at her, she quickly raised her hands. "I dinn rdd it." She made a frantic motion with her hands, attempting to swallow, before repeating "I didn't read it, promise."
Dipper laughed. "Actually, here." He held up the phone to show her the message. Her eyes lit up with joy as she read and processed the message. "You think I should go?"
"Um, no doy! You kind of got robbed of your big moment at the lodge, make up for that lost time!"
Smiling to himself, Dipper typed out a response.
MYSTERY TWINS HOTLINE: Sure, that sounds great!
"Dude, the exclamation point is a bit much, don't come on too strong," joked Wendy, reading over his shoulder. Dipper rolled his eyes and hit 'send.'
Pacifica sat alone in the expansive, empty lobby of the lodge. While just a day earlier she would have been surrounded by excited skiers and hotel guests, she now found herself sharing a couch with a pile of skis sharpened into spears and a pyramid assembled out of canned goods. This sort of environment would have been a jarring experience for many, but for a survivor of Weirdmageddon like Pacifica, it was a bit of a throwback to her post-apocalypse days surviving in the Mystery Shack. And besides, she wasn't spending much time looking around at her surroundings anyway, choosing instead to read the texts she had received from Dipper over and over. She smiled to herself, excited to see him.
The sound of footsteps across the lobby caught her attention. Looking up from her couch, she saw her father wandering aimlessly through the lobby, looking at small details in the ornate finishes that he had fussed over for months. Her first instinct was to crouch down and pretend to be invisible until he walked away, but something stopped her. Instead, she stood up and approached him.
Preston, surprised at first to see someone else in the lobby, focused intently on a large, tattered painting of a family skiing that hung haphazardly on the wall. Pacifica stood next to him, staring at the same painting. A father, mother, and a daughter stood at the top of a hill, smiling warmly at each other. The colors were a bit saccharine, and the direction of the lighting was entirely unrealistic in order to play on the heartstrings of the viewer, but the emotional appeal worked for Pacifica.
"Did you ever notice this one before?" Preston asked, after what felt like an eternity of silence.
"It was one of the first paintings you bought for the lodge," remembered Pacifica. "You told us you saw it in an online gallery and it was exactly the kind of feeling that you wanted people to feel when they were here."
"That's right," said Preston. "I saw the pride of family, and the hilltop they had conquered, and it made me think of the three of us. It was exactly the kind of mood I wanted this lodge to embody."
Historically, in interactions with her father, Pacifica held her tongue and allowed him to basically say whatever he wanted, with the only acceptable interaction to be to mirror his opinions back to him. However, after all they had been through, Pacifica couldn't help bursting out laughing. She looked up at her father, who returned the glance with a confused frown.
"Dad, art is subjective and all, but that's like the opposite of what you're supposed to take from this."
"Oh really? I take it you're an art connoisseur now?" Preston retorted. Pacifica laughed again.
"They're happy, Dad!" she explained, amused and incredulous that she was having to explain something this simple to a grown man. "They're enjoying each other's company. They're having a fun day as a family together."
Preston turned back to the painting, tilting his head to try and see what his daughter was seeing. He stared intently at the smile on the daughter's face, struggling to understand. "I... " he stammered, "I'm at a loss, Pacifica. I feel like I'm missing something important here."
"I mean, yeah. You are. And I think you're going to have to find it for yourself."
Pacifica patted her father on the back of his arm before walking off towards the east wing, where the family's living quarters were located. Preston stared forward at the painting, feeling more guilty and foolish the longer he continued to stare at the image, failing to understand what Pacifica was talking about.
"Order up!" announced the short-order cook, placing a hot plate with a burger and fries at the service window for pickup. Immediately, Pacifica popped into view, grabbing the plate.
"Thanks, chef," she called back as she walked the plate out to one of her tables. Greasy's Diner was as charmingly rustic as ever, and residents of Gravity Falls were beginning to arrive for the dinner rush. Regulars like Mayor Cutebiker and Manly Dan were mixed amongst some of the out-of-town dignitaries who had suddenly lost their food and lodging with the closure of the resort. Off in the far corner, a relatively newer group of patrons discussed what Pacifica thought she overheard as instructions from an online message board. But maybe she was just imagining things, it was noisy after all.
As Pacifica reached her table, she set the plate down in front of one of the least remarkable customers in the diner. "Okay, I've got the classic burger with no onions and fries for you here. Anything else I can get you, Tad?"
"Nope, this looks perfectly normal to me!" replied Tad Strange. "Thank you!"
"Great, let me know if you need anything," Pacifica added as walked off to check on other tables. As she passed a table that had been vacant a moment ago, something out of the corner of her eye made her double back. Upon second glance, she noticed Dipper seated in the booth, watching her work from behind a menu.
"The apron is a different look for you, Pacifica," Dipper teased, lowering the menu now that she had noticed him. Pacifica scoffed, flipping her hair.
"Whatever, I rock the apron look," she replied, laughing. She waved over at Lazy Suzan to catch her attention. "Hey Susan, I'm going to take my break now."
"Okay, dear!" replied Susan heartily. She watched as Pacifica sat down with Dipper, turned to one of the other waitresses, and manually winked her eye. "Wink!"
"I should have asked if you wanted anything before I went on break," said Pacifica as she settled in. "I think there's fresh coffee."
"No, that's okay," Dipper replied, while thinking that he did sort of wish he had a drink that he could use to hide his awkwardness. At this point though, he rationalized, Pacifica was fully aware of his awkward ticks and seemed to be okay with him as-is. "How is your family doing after everything that happened?"
"About as well as could be expected," she shrugged. "We've started on the reconstruction, but we're not going to be able to reopen until next season. Not to mention it's not exactly the most scenic spot in town anymore, what with all the trees being gone."
"Ford said he was going to try to reverse engineer the biological electronics from the trees into some kind of carbon capture technology," added Dipper, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "maybe once he figures it out, we could find a way to restore a safer version of the artificial forest. Beats waiting a few decades for the trees to regrow naturally."
"That would be incredible," replied Pacifica, smiling warmly. "Though it doesn't help much for winter break. You're going to be off in the Mystery Shack, and I'm probably going to have to pick up more shifts here. Which is a bit of a shame because..."
Pacifica trailed off, looking up at Dipper expectantly, but the two of them sat together in silence for a moment. Dipper's mind raced. It was pretty clear where things were headed conversation-wise, but his creeping anxiety prevented him from just jumping in and addressing it. Pacifica shook her head.
"Alright, this is stupid, I'm just going to say it." Pacifica began, her hands fidgeting under the table, "We really never got a chance to finish our conversation earlier." Dipper nodded but said nothing. "I know I've hedged a lot of the things I've said to you with things like 'Don't take this seriously' or 'I didn't mean it' so I'm just going to be real blunt and say it so it's all out on the table."
Dipper gulped.
"I like you, and I think you like me. And I know you're not going to be in town forever, and it's already going to be tough to find time to be around each other now, so I don't want to spend the rest of your break in some dumb will-they-won't-they cycle. I'd rather enjoy the time we have in Gravity Falls now, and figure out what to do about you leaving later."
Pacifica watched Dipper's face closely as he struggled to verbalize a response. Finally, he managed to squeak out an "Okay," and a nervous grin. Pacifica beamed, holding her hand out across the table. After not-so-subtly attempting to wipe his own hand on his jeans to make sure it wasn't sweaty, Dipper took her outstretched hand and held it. "So, now what?" asked Dipper.
"Well," offered Pacifica coyly, "if you're cool waiting around, my shift ends at eight. Then you can take me on an adventure."
Dipper felt his ears burn as he looked into Pacifica's eyes. "Deal."
Hello! I don't normally do author's notes, since I prefer to let the work stand on its own, but I wanted to take a moment to say two things.
First of all - I'm overwhelmed by the positive responses to this story. I was a bit intimidated trying to write something for a fandom with as active a writing scene as Gravity Falls and had no idea how something new would be received. I've been absolutely blown away and I appreciate all the reviews and comments. Because of that...
Secondly - I want to talk about what's coming next! When I started publishing Ski Northwest, I had started work on the next volume. I had originally thought that I'd be able to just hit the publish button on each chapter once a week and put any writing energy I had into getting the next story done so I would be able to move right into publishing that story. In practice, I probably did two editing passes per chapter on Ski Northwest, and kept putting off writing the next volume until there was no way I'd be able to write out the whole story before this was done publishing.
So there will be a bit of a break between this chapter and the first chapter of Herald of C, but I'll do my best to ensure it isn't a long one. As with Ski Northwest, once I start publishing the second volume, it'll be one chapter a week until finished.
And as of right now, I do envision this as a stand-alone, three part story of the winter break. I think one of the best themes of Gravity Falls is that things end, and by opening up Hirsch's sandbox and adding my own piece to it, I want to respect that bittersweetness with my work.
Thanks for reading, I can't wait to share the next parts with you!