PART SEVEN OF SECOND SUMMER
Preston Northwest stood among the unsophisticated rabble gathered at the Gravity Falls Town Square, hating every moment of it. To his right was his wife, her arm in his, listening to the little mayor's speech with the rest of the other townsfolk. On every other side was a man or woman so common that Preston wished he could still afford a highly trained security detail to escort them from the premises of his personal space.
But those days were long past and now he had to stand among the crowd, no longer having access to the incredible wealth that allowed him the special treatment he deserved. He was still better than them, obviously. The problem now was that he just didn't have the spare money to prove that to them too.
Preston took a deep breath to calm his nerves as he felt someone's elbow touch his and suppressed a shudder and a sharp remark. To distract himself from the contact he focused on the stage where Mayor Tyler Cutebiker was delivering his speech to the crude masses. Preston's lips curled as he watched the town's overly-enthusiastic mayor, his eyes dropping from the mayoral sash, business suit and tie, to the cut jean shorts and large boots, thinking the man looked utterly ridiculous in either business or personal attire.
Stanley Pines and his brother Stanford Pines sat behind the mayor, the scientist brother looking the much more attentive of the two. He could understand their presence, at least. Stan Pines had been the one who had been willing to sacrifice himself to save the town, which including Preston and his family. And for that Preston was willing to forgive some of his uncouth nature, even if he felt the man had received a little too much praise. After all, he hadn't actually sacrificed himself: he was sitting there, relatively healthy and technically sane of mind. Still, he had saved the day in the end and had even protected Pacifica in his hovel of a home so Preston didn't resent him too much for being allowed to be beside the mayor (pathetic little excuse for one that he was.)
Stanford - wait, was that right? Who really cared. The scientist brother was also an individual whose presence Preston could allow to be on the podium. Maybe his feats hadn't been quite as heroic as his brother's - in fact from what Preston had heard it sounded almost as if he caused as much trouble as he sorted - but he did strike a better figure with his straight posture, the more intelligent gaze and the far better figure than his twin. Maybe he was meant as a calming figure to his brother. Then Preston's eyes drifted to the other men on the podium and felt his anger rise.
Fiddleford Hadron McGucket, formerly 'Old Man' McGucket, sat opposite the twin brothers on the podium, his son Nate by his side. For years, Preston Northwest had always had a seat on the podium. Even after the truth about Nathanial Northwest had come out, he had retained that seat thanks to the sheer amount of wealth and respect he commanded, the number of businesses he owned in town giving him more power and control than any elected official.
For every event, he received a letter from the mayor asking if he would attend. Even when he declined, which he usually did, there would then be another letter, making sure that they received his permission before they allowed anyone else to use his seat.
This time there had been no letter.
He had even called the mayor himself to ask for it and had to suffer the double embarrassment of having the secretary - the bloody secretary! - explain that none had been posted and the seats had all been filled and if he wanted to speak to the mayor about it then he could try and call again later.
Preston Northwest, owner of Northwest Mud Flaps and once the most powerful man in the State. Dethroned by a stinking hillbilly and his moronic son. A man who had been living in the dump for years and thought that devouring books helped keep you alive, while his son had never achieved anything more than owning a fishing shack.
And now the town was celebrating this former lunatic, even going so far as to melt down the destroyed statue of Nathaniel Northwest (he still hadn't managed to find out how that had happened - a fruitless waste of money) and use it to create a monument to their new benefactor.
Preston had fought and nail to prevent the creation of the new statue, using every resource he could afford and plenty that he couldn't. So what if the old man had designed the robot that fought for the town during Never Mind All That, he had argued. Hadn't he also created several monstrosities that terrorised the town? Scared the children? Been such a nuisance that even his own son had made the right call and just turned his back to him? And so what if he'd spent so much of his fortune to help the town? To fix any destruction that the rogue monster caused for free, or restock the library with better books and computers and fund a clinic in town to make sure the townsfolk, animals or monsters could get medical assistance without having to travel to the nearest hospital? At the end of the day he was still a backwaters buffoon who still struggled to get his words right. Even if the average man was too stupid to see that, Preston was glad that at least he could.
Preston gritted his teeth as the Mayor finished his speech and allowed the inventor to speak to the crowd, his temper rising when, as if to prove his point, the old man stumbled over his words, seemingly making some up even as he spoke haltingly, trying to sound nauseatingly humble.
Preston scoffed when the man mentioned how grateful he was for the kindness he'd received over the years, thinking back to the many jokes made at the lunatic's expense and wondering if he was really that naïve or if he was still too crazy to realise the truth. But the crowd seemed to enjoy it, clapping and even cheering when he awkwardly finished.
He shook his head in disgust when the cloth was dropped to reveal the new statue, depicting the old scientist in what Preston assumed was his prime: much younger with a full head of hair as he sat at a desk with an old laptop, a banjo and family photograph beside the bulky machine.
The crowd cheered again and stepped forward to get a better look at the new monument, pushing past Preston and his wife with an indifference that made his blood boil. Then, as if to add salt to his wound, he spotted his daughter through the crowd, standing on the sidewalk. She was between the younger Pines twins and their overweight and tomboyish friends, wearing a filthy apron and a disgusting uniform that matched the one worn by the old cyclopean woman behind her.
His daughter. Pacifica Elise Northwest. A damn waitress standing out on the street with truckers, lumberjacks and other people who made less per year than she used to spend on one day's shopping.
She deserved better.
"Let's go, Priscilla," Preston growled, pushing his way through the crowd and earning several angry looks as he longed for the days when they would part before him and avoided his eye. "We've wasted enough time with this sideshow."
Priscila Northwest looked at her husband's back with a strange mixture of sympathy and disappointment. She started to move her way through the crowd but paused when she spotted her daughter, standing with her friends, the little Pines girl wrapping an arm around Pacifica's neck and walking her closer to the statue. She saw her daughter push her off roughly and give a no doubt witty remark, a small smile on her face that made Pacifica sigh with relief as she followed her husband, glad that the day hadn't been a total waste.
"So what do you think?" Stan asked McGucket as they considered the new statue. "Poindexter and your boy debated for ages about the best depiction of you. Personally, I'd say they did an alright job. The best of both worlds here."
"It - y'all didn't need ter-to do this," the old man stuttered as he looked at the monument. "It's just unecesstar-unnecessary."
"Nonsense!" cried Stanford, gently clapping his old friend in the shoulder. "You've endured worse than any of us and yet you still kept your kind nature. You deserve to be commended for that alone, never mind all the good you've done and continue to do. It makes sense that the town should wish to show their appreciation, Fiddleford."
"He's right, Dad," agreed Tate, standing beside his overwhelmed father. "You should be proud. I am."
Fiddleford nodded but didn't say anything as he looked at the statue of the young man he had been. For so many years he had wished to be that young man again, to go back and relive his life so that he wouldn't be alone, focus on his friends and family instead of his work. His greatest desire even when the madness in his brain had rendered him unable to do anything for too long without causing a scene and embarrassing himself and his family.
But now he didn't need to go back. So, despite his stutterings and his hesitation at being surrounded by so much praise, his discomfort at being at the centre of so much attention, he put on a self-conscious smile and thanked everyone very kindly. Because he had his son, his friends, his happiness and even most of his mind back. And to the kind, scatter-brained old inventor, that was worth every bad day.
Pacifica finished brushing her teeth as she looked forward to the day ahead, checking her hair and makeup in the reflection before heading out to her morning shift at Greasy's diner, hoping that the customers would be as generous as the day before.
Yesterday had been a good day. The townsfolk had been in high spirits and were especially indulgent with their tips before and after the unveiling of the statue. She had spent time with the Pines family in the afternoon during her break and then a little more when they had decided to get their lunch at Greasy's and had also praised her on her baking skills after she suggested the group try the cakes she made herself.
Of course, Stan had still tried to talk his way out of paying, arguing that his heroic sacrifice and sheltering of the few remaining townsfolk in the Shack during Bill's attack had earned him free service from everywhere in town, but a quick punch from Wendy and a sharp nudge from his twin had made him begrudgingly pay for his share of the meal. And a few soft words from Mabel had also made him resentfully add a few more dollars for a tip, even if he did grumble through the whole process.
But the main reason Pacifica was happy was that when she had been serving another customer, she had heard Wendy mention she'd be away for the rest of the week to go camping with her family.
While Pacifica didn't resent the redhead quite as much as she used to, they weren't exactly friends either and she was still happy that the object of Dipper's unaccommodating desire would be away for a few days. Leaving Pacifica with ample opportunities to spend time with the twins on her own, enjoy some games, hopefully have an adventure of their own, and (with Mabel's help) maybe even get the difficult boy to see the light.
She didn't have too much hope for that last part since even a sociopathic sorceress with magic hadn't been able to dent his determination, but Dipper Pines wasn't the only one in town who had difficulty letting go of a crush.
"I'm off to work!" she called out as she reached the front door. "I'll probably meet some friends afterwards but I should be back for dinner! Bye!"
"Pacifica," she heard her father rumble from the dining room. "Come here. Your mother and I wish to have a word."
Pacifica winced. She knew that tone too well from the days when it had usually been followed by the ringing of a bell. Letting out a quiet sigh she made her way to the dining room where her mother and father were sitting at the top of the long table, waiting for her.
After they had been forced to sell the Manor, the Northwests had relocated to their much smaller summer home, lying just outside of town in a wide open space, unlike the old Northwest Manor (renamed McGucket's Hootenanny Hutt by its new occupants) that sat atop a hill, overlooking the strange town. Their new home was much smaller, but still dwarfed the other residences in town. The two floors, attic and basement held a variety of rooms that included a reading room, a trophy room for Preston's hunting awards and kills, several large bedrooms, a study, a separate office for Preston, a wine cellar (they had made sure to collect as much alcohol as possible before they sold the manor) and a range of other rooms that showed that, while no longer billionaires, the Northwests were still living in the lap of luxury thanks to their collection of businesses throughout the country.
Or, at least, that was the image they had been trying to maintain. In truth, Pacifica knew that her father had been spending more and more time at the office because he was busy struggling to keep what little he thought they had. Unfortunately, old habits die hard and while he and the family had made several sacrifices from their relatively impoverished state, there were some that Preston had been unwilling or unable to make.
There were no more weekly shopping trips just to flaunt their money or shipping the best food, drink, cars, clothes or anything else they wanted just to prove they could. The house staff had been cut down to a near skeletal crew and the ridiculously high standards the family had for their chefs, maids and butlers had been lowered greatly. Priscilla could no longer buy a dress just for one night and most of Preston's prized cars had been sold shortly after the manor. Pacifica had been forced to give up all but one of her ponies, the hardest part for her by far. They could no longer afford even one of their daughter's previous tutors. Preston had tried to send her to a renowned private school but she had been unwilling to leave Gravity Falls and with the surprising support of her mother, had eventually convinced him to let her attend public school.
But despite all that, Preston still made sure that they ate like royalty, received the most expensive birthday and Christmas parties coupled with extravagant gifts just to prove he could, and now he refused to sell anything else that could help them. Preston had raised his daughter to believe that appearances were everything and now that lesson was costing Preston more than he could afford.
"Uh, I'm working this morning, so can we please be quick?" Pacifica asked her parents as she approached, stopping to pat the head of Duchess, the family dog and one thing Pacifica was very glad that they never had to sell. "Or if it can't be quick then can we please talk after work?"
"I'll just have Charles take you there if you start to run late," Preston said with a frown, referring to the family driver, another luxury he was unwilling to let go of. "Your mother and I are concerned for your safety after...what happened last week."
When Pacifica had been dropped off late one night with a black eye and several other bruises, they had understandably been alarmed. Especially when they had phoned the police station, despite their daughter's protests, and been informed by Sheriff Blubs that Pacifica had been assisting Deputy Mendez and several others in fighting a sorceress who had used magic to control a large portion of the town's male population.
Pacifica had to beg them to let her attend Dipper's get well party the next day and it was only after pleading with her mother that she was allowed to go at all, and even then it took a great deal of persistence. Preston had been furious that his only child had been allowed to take part in the rescue attempt and had threatened to ban her from ever going near any of the Pines family again or even going to work if he couldn't guarantee her safety. In the end, Priscilla had been the one to convince her husband not to, fearing it would just make Pacifica resent her parents even more and cause their little girl turn to desperate option to stay in contact with the only friends she had.
But Pacifica knew her father still wasn't entirely satisfied and prepared herself for the worst as she took a seat and watched her parents warily.
"We know that your friends and your job are both very important to you," Priscilla began, pausing for just a moment as her husband harrumphed in distaste. "But your safety is much more important to us, Pacifica. So your father and I discussed the best way to protect you and still let you maintain your independence. After much debate, we decided the best solution was to assign you a bodyguard. We'll begin the interviews next week."
"I - you - what?" Pacifica stared at her parents incredulously as she tried to process this sudden shift of events. "Next week? But - you can't give me a bodyguard!"
"It's the best solution, darling," Priscilla said gently as Preston grunted. "This way there will always be someone to supervise you while at the same time you can continue to meet your friends and make - other relationships."
Pacifica flinched at her mother's unsubtle comment about her hopes for the future. Both Northwest women glanced at the family patriarch but Preston didn't pick up on the cue, simply glaring at the table as he drummed his fingers on the wood angrily. "But I don't want a bodyguard!" she wailed. "I'm just trying to fit in! You can't fit in if some guy in a suit with a gun follows you everywhere! People already have a hard enough time talking to me because I'm a Northwest!"
"So they should," Preston muttered.
"I'm sorry, Pacifica, but your father and I agree that this is the best course of action," Priscilla said, her voice soft but firm. "None of us are particularly happy with this, but it's the only way you can still be safe while maintaining your freedom. Do you want us to stop you from working or keep you away from your friends?"
"No! But - but -" Pacifica struggled to think of a response as thoughts ran through her mind of the difficulty in talking to even Mabel or Dipper while a muscular shadow loomed nearby. "But what about the cost?" she asked desperately. "Bodyguards are expensive! I know we've got money trouble, we can't just-"
"DAMN THE COST!" Preston roared, his wife and daughter jumping as he slammed a fist on the table, Duchess scampering out of the room in a panic. "I will not stand by and allow my child to be hurt!" He turned to a still startled Pacifica. "You are my daughter," he growled. "It's bad enough that I've lost our wealth, our family home, and even our status. I can't lose you too."
Pacifica stared at her father, dumbfounded. That was probably the closest in a long time he had come to saying, 'I love you.' She glanced at her mother and saw the same kind of determination in her face, even if it was much kinder. "I...okay, Dad," she said quietly. "But can we please talk about this again later?" she begged them. "This is a big deal for me! Can we discuss this more at dinner?"
"There's nothing you can say that can change our minds, Pacifica," Priscilla warned her as her husband settled back in his chair. "But I suppose we can work out the finer details tonight."
"Thank you!" said Pacifica, nodding desperately as she realised this was probably the best they would allow her. For now, at least. As she rushed to her bike, pausing only to clap and settle a still frightened Duchess while she quickly told Charles that she would just pedal faster for the exercise, she realised that her mother was right and she probably wouldn't be able to think of a way to change their minds.
But she had a pretty good idea who would.
Mabel walked through the empty Mystery Shack shop, Waddles at her heels. "Okay, so we've pretty much figured out the seating arrangements," Mabel said as Dipper raised his pen, ready to make more notes. "Melody's family is small and get along okay, we don't need to worry too much there. If we keep Stan and Ford away from them then we can avoid causing a commotion. Uh, catering's all been sorted, gotta thank Pacifica for suggesting that company."
"We already did," said Dipper, sitting on the counter stool as he recorded the minutes for his sister. "Yesterday. You just got distracted when you saw a butterfly out the window and didn't hear it."
"Oh, well that's another thing off the list then," said Mabel, pausing her pacing to pat her pig's head. "Let's see, what's left...we've got the priest and the church, after party at the Shack, I'll rent a karaoke machine, yadda yadda. Anything we're missing?"
"Photographer?" Dipper suggested.
"That's you, silly," Mabel said, leaning over the counter to bop her brother playfully on the nose.
"Mabel, I'm just an amateur," Dipper said, rubbing his nose. "And if I'm meant to be beside the groom then I can't take photos of the wedding itself. I'd have to leave my position constantly or else I'd just be taking pictures of Soos from the back."
"Oh, right, hadn't thought of that," Mabel said, deflating slightly in the padded blue suit blazer she was wearing, clashing horribly with her jean skirt and sneakers. "I guess we'll just get someone to do it from the aisles while you're up there, then you take over again afterwards."
"Photography isn't as simple as pointing and clicking," Dipper told her, slightly annoyed that she assumed someone else could do his hobby so easily. "There's lighting, angles, making sure that-"
"Well you can find someone and explain all of that to them, it doesn't have to be perfect and there will be plenty for other people recording it anyway. And everyone knows that video is way better than photography."
"Is not!" Dipper snapped.
"Shh," Mabel said softly, leaning over the counter again and putting a finger to his lips. "Denial is very unattractive and we want you to look your best for the wedding. Speaking of, we still need to work on suits for you guys and Wendy and the dresses for us gals."
Dipper pushed her hand away, frowning as he recalled that Gideon Gleeful had managed to convince Wendy to wear a suit, ruining the wedding slightly for the teenage boy since a part of him was looking forward to seeing the leggy redhead in a dress. He wiped his mouth and saw glitter on his hand, further souring his mood. "What's wrong with that suit I wore that time you took over the Shack? That did the job okay."
"Dipper, we've grown a bit since last summer," Mabel reminded him as he jumped off the stool and went to the mirror to check there was no trace of glitter on his lips. She grunted and shook her upper body, the buttons stretching slightly. "I mean, just look at this suit! It's much tighter than I remember it being last year so the same's probably true of the one you wore. And this is too important to have your bare ankles ruining the group photo!"
"I suppose your right," Dipper grumbled. Satisfied that he had finally removed all the glitter from his face, he considered his reflection and realised they had grown since last year. Only a little bit, definitely not as much as he would have liked, but it was better than nothing, even if Mabel was still just that little bit taller. He was slightly short for his age, but that didn't bother him as much as it used to since Mabel didn't bring it up very often, and he suspected that in the next few years he'd most likely catch up and then surpass her.
The bell above the shop door rang and the twins turned to face Pacifica, her face red from cycling as fast as she could after her shift ended. "Guys, I need to-" She froze when she saw Mabel, her mind struggling to process the strange attire. "Uh, what are you wearing?"
"This is my Boss Mabel outfit!" Mabel cried proudly, doing a little dance to show off her shoulder pads. "It helps me look and feel mature, making me more adept at the organisational skills I need to help plan Soos and Melody's wedding."
"You look like someone stuck your legs and head on a short banker's body," Pacifica told her. "And why are you wearing glasses?"
"These are lense-free glasses," Mabel explained, putting her finger through the holes to rub her eyelids. "See?"
"Then what's the point - oh, never mind. Wait. Why are you still helping with the wedding plans, shouldn't that be the couple's responsibility?"
"I offered to help!" Mabel boasted.
"Begged, more like," Dipper muttered.
Mabel ignored him. "We're almost done," she said. "Hey, we need a temporary photographer for when Dipper's up at the front. Interested?"
"Um, I guess?" Pacifica said hesitantly. Then, realising that this would be a great opportunity to spend more time with Dipper, cleared her throat and changed her answer. "I mean yes. Yes, I'll do it."
"Great!" Mabel said, her grin and tone suggesting that she knew exactly why Pacifica had suddenly become more willing to volunteer. "Now we just need to get the suits and dresses and find a bouncer."
"Why would you need a bouncer for a wedding? Are Melody's family rowdy?"
"No, they seem pretty cool," Dipper said. "It's just in case any monsters or weirdness happens while it's going on. We don't want to freak out her parents or anything."
"Well why not get Wendy's dad to do it, he can break or chop down pretty much anything." Pacifica looked around the shop. "Where is she, anyway? Did her family leave for camping already?"
"Yeah, went out this morning," Dipper explained with a shrug. "And Mister Corduroy's a bit too...rough to be a bouncer. He's more likely to cause fights or make them worse before he stops them."
"Well that's true," Pacifica muttered, recalling the numerous stories she'd heard of the large man's explosive temper. "Anyway, I came here because I need your help. My Dad's trying to get me a bodyguard! They think it's too dangerous in town for me to be unsupervised! I'm trying to be normal, you can't be normal when there's this big guy following you around and constantly glaring at everybody you meet!"
"And you want us to kidnap your dad and then wipe his mind so he'll forget you ever had that conversation," said Mabel, nodding sagely. "We'll do it!"
"Um, no?" said Pacifica, glancing at Dipper who was also giving his sister a concerned look. "Can't - can't we do something else? Like, anything else?"
"Let's call that plan Z," Dipper suggested. "That way we'll have the rest of the alphabet left before we get there."
"But I've been on a roll with my plans lately!" Mabel complained. "We can totally do it! I've got the grappling hook, Pacifica knows the layout of the home, there's probably a memory gun still lying around in the memory vault somewhere or if there isn't then you can check some of Ford's notes for a memory formula to concoct - it's flawless!"
"...so what would you suggest?" Pacifica said, turning to Dipper in desperation.
"Uh, let's hear the whole story first," Dipper said, still eyeing a disgruntled Mabel warily. "We can talk about it in the living room."
"You guys just don't appreciate my brilliance," Mabel muttered as she followed them to the living room, taking a seat at the little round table where many a night the Pines family had gathered to learn and play games or just enjoy each other's company.
Pacifica told the twins of her conversation with her parents, her fears of a bodyguard making it even harder to associate with normal teenagers, even the pride and enjoyment she felt at working as a waitress under lazy Susan's tutelage.
"I don't want to go! Susan's been nothing but kind and patient with me! She's the best teacher I've ever had, way better than those stupid tutors I had before we lost our money. She's even told me how much she's like working with me and how proud of me she is!" Pacifica sighed. "She's said that more than Dad ever has," she added bitterly, Dipper pausing in his notetaking to give her a sympathetic look.
"Don't worry, Pacifica," said Mabel, leaning over and patting her head, the blonde giving her an annoyed look in response. "I have the perfect plan!" Mabel tore several pages from her own notebook and laid them all out on the table, revealing that instead of making bullet points like her brother, she had instead drawn on them, each page making up a piece of what looked like a very rough plan, complete with stick figures of the three teens.
"We shall meet outside your front gate at midnight because it sounds cooler that way," Mabel began, pointing to the three stick figures at the bottom corner, Pacifca and Dipper noticing with annoyance that their stick figures had a frowny face and stink lines, respectively. "After you sneak out of your house, you can unlock the gate to join us, after which I will use my grappling hook to carry all three of us over the wall! Now, you may be wondering why we won't just walk through the gate Pacifica just unlocked. Answer: that would be boring! Now, after we down the chimney and sneak into the master bedroom, we can knock him out with either a quick blow to the head or by covering his mouth with-"
"Mabel!" Pacifica snapped. "You are not kidnapping my dad!"
"But he's a jerk! He totally deserves it!"
"Well, yeah," Pacifica agreed. "But he's still my dad! Just because I don't like him doesn't mean I'm willing to let you mess with his brain. Anyway, my Mom agrees with him and I definitely don't want you screwing up her memories. What do you have?" she asked Dipper.
"Uh, I have a few ideas," Dipper said, glancing at his notebook and debating in his head whether he should ask Stan to talk to his sister or whether more of Stan's influence might make her worse. "The big problem is that their motives are reasonable, even if their solution's a bit excessive. Wanting to keep his family safe is pretty understandable. Heck, most of last summer Stan pretended he didn't know anything about the Gravity Falls monsters just because he thought it would keep us safe. Ford was the same, he banned Mabel and me from going to his lab to protect us. So even Stan and Ford could see where your parents are coming from."
Pacifica grunted grudgingly while Mabel gathered up the pages of her plan and muttered under her breath.
"My first idea was to have an adult sit down and talk to them, convince them otherwise," Dipper continued. "But we couldn't get Stan or Soos to do it since your dad probably looks down on them too much to ever take them seriously. Ford's probably the best man for it but I doubt your dad wants to be anywhere near him considering he's so close to McGucket."
"Yeah, he did complain all morning about the Nathaniel Northwest Statue being replaced," Pacifica agreed miserably.
"What if we use your size-changing flashlight to make us adult sized?" Mabel suggested, carefully putting her plan pages away in the hopes they'd get a chance to kidnap Preston Northwest sometime in the future. "We wear rich people grown up clothes, pretend to be someone else with a kid who went through a similar experience and then make up a story that convinces him to let Pacifica keep her job?"
"Won't work," Dipper sighed. "The flashlight doesn't age us, it just makes us bigger with the same proportions. Even if we used makeup or had something that made us look older, we'd have to design a whole backstory with evidence and be someone really important before he'd listen to us. Too many problems to maintain."
"And if he did find out it was us then there's no way he'd let me talk to any of you again," Pacifica grunted. "So what are our other options?"
"Uh, I need to give it more though, but another idea I had was if we select the bodyguard ourselves. Hang on, hear me out," said Dipper, raising a hand in preparation to Pacifica's automatic refusal. "Look, your dad's pretty stubborn and it's obvious that he's going to worry about you. Even Wendy's dad worries about her and we've all seen how good she is at protecting herself."
"I'd say she's better at inflicting damage on others, rather than protecting herself," Pacifica said, thinking back to the damage the redhead had caused at the motel when she had fought what seemed like half the men in town.
"Eh, same thing really," Mabel shrugged. "At the end of the day, nobody wants to mess with her."
"Yeah, it's no wonder your dad became worried after you got involved in the whole...Jenna thing," said Dipper.
His voice had gone quiet and he blinked rapidly as he absently touched at his neck, remembered his days of enslavement far too clearly. And once again they led to even worse memories, of a night when a very different monster had tricked and used him and made him hurt himself for its own amusement.
Then he noticed the way his sister and friend were watching him and he cleared his throat, flicking through his notepad to awkwardly cover his sudden pause. "So, I think our best option is to find a bodyguard who would suit you since that's the best of both worlds," he said, clearing his throat again as he tried to continue the conversation.
"Dipper-" Pacifica began, her voice uncertain before he cut her off.
"I don't want to talk about it," he said, his voice cracking as he met her concerned gaze. "I just don't. Okay?"
To the side, out of her brother's sight, Pacifica saw Mabel give the most infinitesimal of head shakes as she stroked her pig's head.
"Okay," Pacifica said, hesitating for a moment before rubbing his arm gently. "Whenever you want to. If you ever do."
Dipper nodded his thanks but didn't say anything, returning to his notes yet again, glad he had something he could hold on to. "Uh, so yeah," he began again, relieved they were giving him the time he needed. "A bodyguard who suits you. Someone who'd meet Preston's requirements about protecting you, but who'd also give you space. Um...I'll be honest, I can't really think of anyone? Unless we get McGucket to build one, but that leads to a whole list of other complications so does anyone have any ideas?"
The teens sat in near silence as they pondered the question, Waddles occasionally oinking as his master continued to rub his head.
Suddenly Mabel snapped her fingers as she had a lightbulb moment. "I know someone who's perfect!" she declared, turning to her confused brother. "Who do we know who'll not only care more about Pacifica than Preston, but who'd be so amazing at it that Preston would be crazy NOT to let them be his daughter's bodyguard? A certain redhead we know?"
"Wendy?" Dipper asked with a frown, the mention of redheads automatically sending his mind to his personal favourite. "Or her brothers?
"Uh, there's no way Dad would consider them for that post," Pacifica said quickly. "And I don't think she'd want the job even if-"
"No!" said Mabel, wondering why Dipper couldn't see such an obvious answer. "I'll give you a hint: we just met him this summer and he's got training in law enforcement? And he's already proven that he's willing to protect people?"
Dipper blinked. "Wait, you mean-?"
"Yep!" Mabel turned to a still puzzled Pacifica with a broad grin, eagerly anticipating the look on her friend's face when she shared the story. "See, Pacifica, this might come as a surprise to you, but it turns out that time travel is a thing and-"
"Wait," said Pacifica, frowning at the brunette. "Are you talking about Phil? Phil Pink? I mean, his job as a time cop sounds impressive for experience, but won't being my bodyguard disrupt his task of monitoring the Falls for time anomalies or the Cipher Cult?"
Mabel sat frozen with her mouth still open in preparation to retell her adventure in time with the former time-cop. But now the many expressions she had looked forward to seeing on the blonde's face were gone, Pacifca only staring back at her expectantly.
Mabel slumped back on her chair and folded her arms over her chest as she pouted. "First you mock my suit, then you ignore my plan and now you won't even let me do a big reveal." She glanced between her friend and her brother. "That does it. I'm jumping ships. I was better off fixing you up with Candy," she muttered, Pacifica blushing as Dipper sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Author's note: Yay, I'm back! And so's Phil, my second favourite redhead in this little AU of mine. Well, he's not back yet but he will be returning in the next chapter. And it's about time, considering how of all my original characters he's meant to be the most recurring but he's only popped up in just one story so far.
I've still got some things going on so I can't guarantee my normal weekly-ish update schedule for this adventure. I'll try but I've made other commitments. Some were meant to be completed before my holiday, but that didn't happen so now I'm dealing with them all at once.
Apparently, telling people that you can't help them because you have to write stories for strangers on the internet doesn't qualify as a suitable excuse and that I should, 'Get my priorities right!'
Some people are just so selfish.