Pacifica was not a person well acquainted with this kind of labour. True, she worked her butt off at the Diner, and true, there had been plenty of rough experiences over the past couple of weeks - but planks of wood, nails, paint and rope? That was something new. Intimidating.
She just sort of.. stood there, awkwardly, rubbing her arm as she tried to work out how any of the stuff worked. Mabel, Fiddleford, Ford and Stan were all impressive labourers, clearly used to a certain amount of practical work (even if Mabel was carving a figurehead rather than taking on the more utilitarian tasks) - but she soon noticed Dipper was just as poorly acquainted. Not to mention easily tired.
To Dipper, carrying two planks and a hammer was the equivalent of hard labour. He quickly began to falter, struggling to lift the things as if they were made of lead. With the others paired up, there was little alternative - so he kept on struggling, desperately trying to impress as much as he could.
It was torture. He grunted in embarrassment as the plank ground into the soft, rotten structure of the harbour's dock - only to blink in surprise as the weight was partially lifted from his shoulders. He looked back in surprise.
"Wow." Pacifica grinned, lifting up the other end of the wood - flicking her hair to keep it away from the recycled lumber. "These things are heavy, Dipper. Strongman, huh?"
"I thought hard labour wasn't a Northwest thing."
"It isn't." she smiled as they walked. "But watching you is enough to get anyone to make an effort."
Dipper flushed and chuckled. "Don't patronise me."
"You love it."
The two laid their first plank and hammered it eagerly, only to - very quickly - find that the beavers were watching them the most intently of all. As if the curiosity of a Northwest working was not lost upon their little minds.
Slowly, one of them crawled from the crowd to Pacifica's feet and stared directly into her eyes. It had a large, pink splatter on its stomach's matted hair.
"Uh… hi." She squirmed, looking down at it sheepishly. "I uh… I'm sorry."
The creature cocked its head.
"I'm - I'm sorry about what my family have done to you." She clarified, crouching to its level. "I get that these things are a bit hard to understand, but - we - we aren't all bad, and-"
Dipper watched, perturbed. "Paz, it's just… it's a beaver-"
"I know. But maybe there's still just a bit of-"
The animal bowed its head and gave a small chirp - not one that particularly betrayed understanding, admittedly, but a response all the same. Pacifica broke into a broad smile as she looked back up at her boyfriend.
His more reasonable side insisted it was just a coincidence - but in Gravity Falls, of course, you could never be entirely certain. He just chuckled, rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. "I guess I stand corrected."
"Maybe." Pacifica giggled, picking up another plank. "Or we're both crazy."
Dipper tried to ignore the fact Pacifica seemed to have far less trouble than he did and lifted the other side. "Guess so. That's not so bad, right?"
"Right. Crazy basically saved our butts back there."
Ford couldn't help but overhear and huff as he hammered another nail into the ship's ribs. It was impossible to hide the disconcerting thoughts running through his brilliant mind - and all too clear to his old collaborator.
"What's up, Ford?" Fiddleford asked, using his McGucket-Hammero-Matic.
"Just wondering how best to make up for lost time." Ford smiled, weakly. "These kids are always moving. You begin to wonder just how much you've missed."
"Y'know, I might have a solution for ya." Fiddleford replied, confidently - not once looking up from the practical work he so thrived on. "Ah've got a little inferstructural bit of doohickery on the cards, could do with someone to help survey, guard some work sites…Not just fer me, Ford. Gits you all together - gives you a lil' time before the enda summer."
"I'll keep it in mind. Thank you." The old scientist smiled, taking a sip of soda.
"Well don't keep in mind too long! I want mah railroad completed by next week!"
Ford choked. "What?!"
"Ah'll tell ya all about it once we got this old beauty back out to pasture." The engineer grinned, laying down more upon the hull. "Y'all won't believe what ah've been cookin' up."
"I'm sure I won't." Ford smiled.
He figured that if it was Government business - something McGucket was heavily involved in these days - he wouldn't be particularly welcomed onto the project. Technically 'he' was still a threat to national security. All the same, he couldn't help but be curious. Fiddleford was a man who had never stopped adapting to modern technology - something he couldn't make the same claims to.
Perhaps there were more grand surprises in store for summer - even if they were under a guise of peaceful, personal camping in the forest. He was all too eager to accept the offer - perhaps, finally, a chance to get to know his family a little better - and, of course, discuss the future with his newly adopted family member, too.
The work went quickly; hammering and battering soon gave way to looping and painting. New lengths of canvas were unfurled, high quality rope strung from her masts and capstans, a new figurehead fastened to the bowsprit - gradually, the vessel was straightened and rectified of its flaws, blue tarpaulin being replaced with finely treated wood, lovingly bolted into her frame.
As the hours passed, Lucinda seemed to rise back to her old stature - regain the distinguished facade she had once carried so proudly. A valiant transformation - a beautiful, righted wrong. By sunset, she was - once again - a proud edifice of a bygone age that never truly was, basking in the tranquil, red light of the dusk - ready and waiting for her future. A proud, sharp, eyecatching personality that had recovered from its dark past.
Pacifica - if she had noticed - did not bring up how much she related to the vessel. Truth be told, she had never felt pride in a practical task before. Not really. But watching that grand old lady of - well, not the sea, but the lake - rise again was something that brought butterflies to her stomach. She felt a thrill; an excitement. She felt utterly overjoyed to have taken part - like she had a connection to that proud, tall brig other than the Northwest monogram embossed into the stern. It was - perhaps - one of the few 'members of the family' she had left to feel proud of.
Dipper stood beside her. Sweat dripped down his brow, his lungs still emptied of air. He looked to his equally exhausted girlfriend with a wide smile - and was almost immediately bowled over in a thankful, passionate kiss that took him entirely by surprise.
What they didn't realise was that Mabel's next stage of the plan was only more eccentric. They could only watch, bewildered, as she began tooting her goose call in a curious, familiar melody.