leaving back home
It's mid-December and Dipper's at his desk in his room, managing way too many open tabs in his internet browser. He's trying to reply to Wendy's recent email, where she apparently decided there was too much to say in a text chain and dropped about thirty different ideas on how she could come down to visit all at once. The most plausible of these revolves around Christmas break, so he's writing back with some tentative plans for that time. Nothing is set in stone, of course, and he has to talk to his parents, but he doesn't think it'll be a problem for Wendy to come down for a few days.
Simultaneously, he's trying to unravel a barrage of documents from Soos and Mabel. The two of them sent out the latest part of their collaborative Duck-tective fanfic and Dipper hadn't realized how much of it there is. There's three parts to it now, though the last part isn't done, but that still amounts to two entire books! How is he supposed to follow any of this? It's long and rambling and a lot of it doesn't even have anything to do with the main plot or any actual detecting, it's just Duck-tective dealing with his duck life. In the chapter Dipper is skimming now, Duck-tective has been separated from his partner Steve the Penguin and mopes around for the entire chapter. Nothing really happens. He's just sad.
In the margins, Dipper comments: 'More cool adventures, less feelings.'
A knock at his door (shut earlier for maximum homework concentration) interrupts his half-hearted editing. He spins around in his chair, yelling, "Yeah?"
Mabel's voice comes through the door. "Dipper! It's me, Mabel! From school!"
He gets up and opens the door. "Hello, Mabel From School," he says, holding out his hand for her to shake.
"Howdy! Boy, you sure are a handsome fella," Mabel says, shaking his hand briskly. "Why, I bet if you had a sister, she'd be the most beautiful belle of all the land!"
"Sure, why not," he says, dropping her hand. "What's up?"
"Mom wants us to come downstairs," Mabel tells him.
Dipper frowns. "What did we do?"
"I don't know, I can't think of anything." Mabel shrugs.
"Maybe we're in trouble for something we're going to do."
"A time warp, I knew it! Our future selves are downstairs and they're gonna squeal!" Mabel's expression suddenly falls, and she sighs. "That'd be neat, huh?"
They go downstairs to find Mom and Dad standing in the kitchen. It doesn't feel like the twins are in trouble, though, and Dipper genuinely can't think of anything he's done lately to earn a talking to.
"What's going on?" he asks.
"Relax, you're not in trouble," Mom tells him with a knowing smile. "Though if you're feeling that guilty, maybe you know something we don't."
Mabel gasps in mock affront. "We've been perfect angels!"
"Hey, your grades have been great," Dad acknowledges. "Whatever you're doing, keep it up!"
Mom sets her drink down on the counter and turns to face the twins. "So, this Christmas Break your dad and I have been talking about visiting Grandma, since it's been a while."
Dipper's heart sinks. Grandma lives in Florida; there go Wendy's plans. He looks at Mabel, who appears equally stricken.
Mom notices. "Well, don't get too excited," she says, crossing her arms.
Dipper attempts to save face. "Oh, uh… I mean, we love Grandma," he stammers as Mabel nods emphatically.
"Here's the thing," Dad says, "Grandma just bought a new condo and she's moving out of her house at the end of the month. We thought you guys probably wouldn't want to spend your break moving furniture and talking to the bank. That sound about right?"
"I can't talk to the bank, my sweaters aren't business casual," Mabel agrees.
"What's the alternative?" Dipper asks, hoping that he already knows the answer.
"Stan said you're welcome to stay with him. We'll have Christmas once we all get back. Does that sound okay?" Mom says.
The twins trade a glance.
"Yeah, I think that'll work out," Dipper says.
"Cool beans," Mabel says.
Five minutes later, Dipper is back in his room with Mabel. He's happily typing up a second reply email to Wendy, telling her she can save herself some gas money and hang tight. Mabel is almost literally bouncing off the walls, jumping on Dipper's bed as she texts Brendan.
"Two whole weeks!" she exults. "Oh, do you think it will snow?!"
"Real snow, tons of it, like we saw with the time tape," Dipper says.
"We've never seen the Shack all done up for the holidays! I'm putting tinsel on everything."
"Grunkle Stan will finally sell those snow globes."
"My sweaters will be seasonally appropriate!"
"You think Pacifica ever went up in the winter? Maybe she knows some good sledding—…" Dipper trails off at the same moment Mabel's eyes widen.
Mabel's feet slip out from under her, and she falls to sit at the edge of the bed.
Dipper opens another browser tab. "She can come, right? I mean, why would her mom even care? Maybe her break is at the same time as ours…" He searches for Malibu school districts before remembering she goes to a private school.
"The sooner we tell her, the better chance she has of working something out," Mabel says decisively, her fingers already flying over her phone screen.
Dipper figures Pacifica will want to hear from him, too. He quickly lets her know about the sudden change in plans. He waits for a minute, but she doesn't reply.
"Anything?" he asks Mabel.
Mabel shakes her head. "No. She hasn't been talking much lately, but maybe that's a good thing."
"How could that be a good thing?"
"I don't know, I'm just trying to be positive!"
Dipper sighs. "Well… We still have time to work something out."
"We'll go rescue her again if we have to," Mabel says stoutly.
An act that could land them in a world of trouble if Pacifica's mother doesn't okay her leaving again… Still, it's a valid last resort.
The next day is Friday, and it passes by in a blur of classes and homework. Saturday, the twins spend the day shopping and going out for dinner. They hammer out some more details with their parents; they'll be taking the bus again, leaving a few days before Christmas and returning in early January, giving them a couple more days of break with their parents before school starts. It's great, and hopefully the start of a trend. The time between summers feels more bearable if there's a trip to the valley every winter. Mom and Dad probably won't be cool with the twins being gone every Christmas, but maybe they can still go for part of break, even if they have Christmas at home.
And there's more good news, this time from Pacifica. Her replies have been somewhat cryptic, but she doesn't seem worried about being able to go with them. Things must be improving on her end; she's been hard to get hold of the past week and that seems to indicate that something is changing, anyway.
It's early afternoon, now, on a lazy Sunday. Dipper is slumped in one of his beanbag chairs, playing an open-world video game. He's completed the main story and is mopping up a map full of side activities, but they're starting to feel like a checklist instead of fun things to do, so he'll probably move on to the next game soon. Mabel is on the floor between the beanbags and the TV, opening a bag of Kolossal-Krunch BBQ chips.
"I will now eat this entire sack of chips without using my hands," she declares.
"Uh-huh," Dipper says, his eyes tracking his next objective.
Mabel sighs and reaches into the chip bag. "Forget it. You don't appreciate handless eating like Grunkle Stan does."
"That's true."
Dipper's phone buzzes in his pocket, pulling his attention from the next collectible. He takes it out and looks: It's a text from Pacifica.
Pacifica: Are you busy?
He glances at the television, where his completion percentage is still hovering at a disappointing eighty-three. He sets down the controller and replies:
Dipper: Nope
"Pacifica just asked if I'm busy," Mabel remarks through a mouthful of chips.
"Same," Dipper says.
"Maybe she can finally come visit!"
"It's already the middle of Sunday." Dipper checks his phone again.
Pacifica: Come meet me here, it's not far
Shortly afterwards, she texts him an address.
"…What?" Dipper murmurs, perplexed.
"Wait… what?" Mabel echoes. She sits up. "Does that mean she's already here?"
"This isn't, like… one of our enemies luring us into a trap or something, is it?"
"We have enemies?"
"Not really. Well, not anymore." Dipper takes his hat off his desk and puts it on. "I guess we're going?"
He plugs the address into his phone and can see it isn't too far away; it's in a neighborhood he's not familiar with. It'll take them maybe fifteen minutes if they take their bikes.
Mom and Dad aren't home, so Dipper texts them to let them know that he and Mabel are out riding. They open the garage and walk the bikes out to the curb, Dipper checking his phone again to make sure he has the gist of the route.
"What do you think this is about? She's gotta be here, right?" Mabel says.
Dipper shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe she's just messing with us."
"How dare she make us exercise!"
Dipper doesn't actually think that. It would be pretty out of character for Pacifica to play some elaborate prank, especially one that involves something as serious as her separation from the twins. He's genuinely clueless as to what's going on, though the most likely answer makes him concerned: What if she ran away? He doesn't know how she got to Piedmont, but maybe she's in the wrong place by mistake.
Thing is, she didn't seem worried in her texts. And wouldn't she call if something like that was going on? She did last time.
It's a warm day for December, in the high fifties with a slight breeze. Dipper wears a jacket, while Mabel's usual taste in clothing is insulation enough. They ride out of their neighborhood, turning on to a central street that connects a few different subdivisions; it's a two-lane road with a good amount of traffic, but there's still a sidewalk for them to use. Dipper is accustomed to heading in a different direction, towards the subdivisions across Grand Avenue where a few of his friends live. This way goes towards unfamiliar houses, at least for him.
"You know anyone who lives over there?" he shouts to Mabel; she's a few feet behind him as they approach an intersection.
"I think Pooja does. I've only been at her house once and Dad drove me," Mabel yells back.
They cruise down Highland and then have to wait a minute to cross Oakland Avenue. Then they're back on Highland again, passing the elementary school and Mulberry's Market (they have great sandwiches; sometimes Mom brings them home for lunch on weekends), curving around the park and the community center. It's fairly level riding most of the way, unlike some other parts of Piedmont, which are very hilly; the houses in those areas rarely have front yards and are perched right on the street, crammed in tight rows like the houses in the Hollywood hills, garnished with the occasional palm tree. The further south the twins ride, the bigger the houses seem to get, the more well-tended the lawns; there are homes behind gates, and up on terraces. They turn on Wildwood and keep going.
Wildwood leads to Crocket, leads to Hampton. There are nice houses on Highland, but there are genuine mansions down here. No wonder Dipper's never ridden here before; all these kids probably go to private schools. They pass Crocker Park (Mabel waves at the bear) and turn right at their destination, King Avenue.
Dipper coasts to a stop in front of what he thinks is the right address. There's a huge house behind an automatic gate here, rearing up behind a concrete wall; it's an edifice of modern glass and red brick two stories tall. He checks his phone again to make sure and, yeah, this is it. Whatever it is.
"This looks right," he tells Mabel.
"Then where is she?" Mabel says.
Dipper shakes his head and texts Pacifica again, hoping for an answer.
"Are we into geocaching now? Is that still cool?" Mabel wonders.
No reply from Pacifica. Dipper decides to try the gate and see what happens. He dismounts and approaches the keypad. It has an intercom with a call button, which seems like the logical next step. He hopes he's not about to get the cops called on him.
Just as he reaches for the button, the gate begins to slide open, making him jump.
"You did it!" Mabel cheers.
The gate moves past the halfway point, and standing in the middle of the driveway is Pacifica.
Dipper hasn't seen her in person since September. Little changes that were hard to notice through a screen jump out at him, like the way her hair is now down to her shoulders. She's wearing a purple skirt with a matching shirt, her ears glittering with diamond earrings, her lips shiny with gloss; she's wearing more makeup than she ever did in the valley. She looks dressed up, as if it's a special occasion. But it must be special, because she finally looks happy.
"Hi!" she says, blue eyes sparkling.
"Pacifica!" Dipper abandons the intercom and runs to her.
He wraps his arms around her and buries his face in her golden hair and breathes her in, luxuriating in her closeness. Mabel's bike hits the sidewalk with a clatter as she leaps off it without bothering with the kickstand. She joins the hug, putting her arms over both Dipper and Pacifica with a joyous laugh.
For the first time since August, Dipper feels complete.
It's Pacifica who finally pulls away. She brushes her hair back like it's all no big deal, despite the fact her eyes are shiny with unshed tears.
"We should go in," she says, beckoning them to come through the gate.
Dipper would also prefer that their reunion not have an audience. He and Mabel walk their bikes inside the perimeter while Pacifica closes the gate.
As the gate clangs shut, Dipper looks around. The wide driveway leads to a squat three-car garage, made of the same red brick that much of the house is. The privacy fence surrounds a yard that is mostly just grass, save for a tree or two at the edges of the lawn. There's not a whole lot of yard in general; the house takes up the majority of the lot.
And it's quite the house. Two stories tall, it has a peaked roof that's so high that it must contain a sizable attic. One side of it is dominated by a two-story window with intricate latticework, the other by a bevy of smaller windows spaced in a way that makes it obvious there's more bedrooms than a typical house, probably four or even five. The three-car garage is detached from the house, connected by a wide sidewalk.
It's nice—very nice. But it's undeniably a step down from the Malibu house, which had been even larger and ultra-modern. More than that, it boasted its own personal slice of the Pacific coastline, a private beach. This new place in Piedmont cost millions, no doubt; Dipper doesn't have much sense of real estate prices, but as nice as Piedmont is, he knows his house isn't worth a million dollars. He also knows that a private beach in Malibu costs the kind of money that makes anything in Piedmont look like chump change.
Dipper has always known his family is well off—in that vague, unexamined way that someone who has grown up immersed in that milieu is aware of it—and he has been made all the more cognizant of it by going to Gravity Falls, where the frequently shoddy houses stand in sharp contrast to his own two-story, well-furnished, well-maintained home. It's something that sits in the back of his mind when he's at Wendy's, watching bad movies on her old, rabbit-eared CRT in her rough-hewn house, or when he is reminded that Soos and Melody rent their home, and are painting it themselves.
Dipper has never had to worry about money in any serious context. He's always taken for granted that he'll be fed and clothed and have a roof over his head. Therefore, he's never been able to internally frame the recent path of Pacifica's life as a classical 'riches to rags' tale, because it's more like 'riches to upper-middle-class' (except in Gravity Falls, which he supposes is lower-middle-class, or at least middle-middle-class). Dipper's parents both work and together they make a very comfortable six figures a year.
But they can't afford a million-dollar anything, because they don't have a million dollars. By comparison, it sounds like the Northwests used to drop that kind of cash, if not more, on their Fourth of July-slash-Pacifica's-birthday celebration alone. So, it's not that she went from the top of the world to living in the gutter, but the distance of Pacifica's descent cannot be accurately summarized by saying she went from being rich to being upper-middle-class, because 'rich' does not begin to cover it.
Of course, she's not the only one involved. This new house is not the same steep step down as going from Malibu to the Shack. But Dipper knows that to Priscilla Northwest, it might as well be.
"Why didn't you tell us you were moving here?!" Mabel exclaims.
Pacifica shrugs. "The Malibu house sold really fast and then we were moving and there was a lot to do. I don't know. I guess… I thought it would be a good surprise."
"It's the BEST surprise!"
"Wait, but, your mom wanted to move to Piedmont? I thought she hated it here," Dipper says.
Pacifica looks toward the house. "It's what I wanted. She didn't have any other ideas and there are plenty of rich people in Piedmont, obviously. Not that she'll ever go out and meet them. I told her it doesn't matter where we live, she can feel sorry for herself anywhere."
Dipper winces. "Ouch. She really went for that?"
Pacifica crosses her arms. "Yeah, because I'm right. Besides, she asked what I wanted."
"Wow, she did? Your mom moved to Piedmont for you?" Dipper says.
"She moved to Piedmont so she could have a house and the help," Pacifica says tartly.
That does sound more like Priscilla. "Oh. Still, it sounds like she sort of moved here for you, too."
"I guess," Pacifica says, and it's obvious she doesn't want to talk about it.
Mabel jumps in to move things along. "Well, show us your house! Give us the grand tour!"
Pacifica seems reluctant to acquiesce. "It's just a bunch of boxes right now."
This proves to be an exaggeration. The first thing the twins see when they step through the solid double doors of the entrance is a living room dominated by the biggest flatscreen Dipper's ever seen and an audio setup worthy of a theater. A big, squishy, four-person couch sits in front of it across a stretch of thick, luxurious carpet.
"Oh, man," Dipper breathes. "Movie night at Pacifica's, definitely."
"What? No!" Pacifica says, looking appalled. "It's boring here. Let's just go."
Dipper looks yearningly at the TV. "But…"
"Can't we see the rest of the house? It's so fancy!" Mabel pleads.
Pacifica lets out a very frustrated sigh. "Fine. This is the living room. That way is the kitchen. To the left is the sitting room with the big window you saw outside. These stairs go up."
"Wow, up-stairs? We only have down-stairs at my place," Dipper says.
Pacifica is not amused. "There are stairs, and then more stairs, and then an attic, but I haven't seen it. That's it."
"Where's your room?" Mabel asks.
"Upstairs. My mom's up there too."
"What about—"
But Pacifica has reached her limit. There's something akin to desperation on her face when she snaps, "Mabel, I just want to go h— to your house! I don't want to be here."
Mabel immediately relents. "We'll come back later," she says with an easy shrug.
They turn around and exit; Dipper takes one last longing look at the home theater setup as he closes the doors. They walk back down the sidewalk to the garage to retrieve the bikes. Returning to the sidewalk outside the premises, Dipper watches the gate close and allows himself the disappointment of knowing he won't be taking advantage of Pacifica's new house very often, if at all. But it's just a passing regret—he's too glad to be bringing Pacifica home again.
Pacifica doesn't have a bike, nor does she know how to ride one, the consequence of being chauffeured everywhere for most of her life. That makes Dipper her new chauffeur, though the pegs on his bike are a bit of a downgrade from a limo. Pacifica doesn't seem to mind; she grips his shoulders and lets the wind rip through her hair as they cycle up Highland.
"We should teach you to ride!" Dipper shouts to her as they come up on Oakland Avenue.
"Okay!" she yells back, and though he can't see her face, he can tell she's smiling.
Soon, he hits the brakes and skids to a stop in front of the garage at home, feeling the rear of the bike lift up as Pacifica jumps off the pegs. She's already heading for the front sidewalk when he stops her.
"Wait, we have to put the bikes away, we'll go in through here," he says, interrupting her beeline for the front door.
They put the bikes back on their racks and go in through the laundry room, Pacifica rushing ahead. Dipper finds her standing in the living room, looking around like she's expecting someone.
"Mom and Dad are out running errands," he explains.
She just nods, appearing a little disappointed. She goes over to her old room and pushes the doors open with a clack. Surprised by what she sees, she turns to Dipper.
"You kept the bed and shelves in here?" she says.
"Yeah, Dad didn't want to move his work stuff back up," he tells her.
She doesn't comment any further but seems very pleased by this. She shuts the doors and proceeds to go out to the porch, taking in the backyard. Waddles comes over to say hello, leaning against her leg as she scratches his ears.
She points to the shed. "Is that where the sensor is?"
Dipper nods. "It's on the side."
He follows her to the shady side of the shed, where the sensor sits. Thanks to Dipper's constant attention, it still appears to be brand new. She crouches near it, getting a closer look.
"I should have taken one to Malibu," she says.
"Sure, the more data the better," Dipper says. He's not sure why they didn't think of that, though Ford doesn't have a whole lot of sensors to go around yet so that may have been a factor.
"It would have been something to do. But it doesn't matter now," she says with a note of cheer.
She stands up to face him, and he suddenly realizes how little space there is back here and just how close she is. She smells so good and she's as beautiful as she's ever been, maybe even more now that he's not seeing her through a monitor. He can see the streaks in her ocean-blue irises and the small freckles over the bridge of her delicate nose, faint beneath her concealer. He finds himself unconsciously leaning forward, tipping into her gravity.
"I missed you," she says softly.
He doesn't tell her that he feels the same; he shows her instead.
What starts as a single, sweet kiss of reunion quickly turns into a series of hungry, almost desperate kisses as the sudden reprieve from months of separation hits all at once. When she at last pulls away he unconsciously follows her, eager for more, stopped only by the hand she puts on his chest.
"Not in the backyard," she says breathlessly.
"Oh. Right," he says, equally breathless.
They step out of the shelter of the shed to be confronted by Mabel, who took a few steps back to give them some privacy but is still, you know, right there.
Mabel is grinning widely despite her wrinkled nose. "You guys sound like a squid on a slip 'n slide," she tells them.
"Then don't listen in like a creep!" Pacifica retorts.
"I'm not a creep, I'm a love-enthusiast! And also a creep."
Returning indoors, Pacifica quickly heads upstairs, the twins trading an amused glance on the way up at how eager she is. At the top, she briefly pokes her head into Mabel's room.
"As glittery as ever," she notes.
"Even MORE glittery!" Mabel corrects.
Pacifica then enters Dipper's room, where she takes in the (admittedly a little messy) room with evident happiness. She promptly makes herself comfortable on one of the beanbag chairs.
"Let's play the turtle game!" she says.
The 'turtle' game is actually a kart-racing game that happens to feature turtle shells as a possible weapon, but the shells have become a synecdoche, at least for Pacifica.
Dipper settles into his beanbag, feeling slightly put out to be viewing such an inferior TV when he's seen what's available. "We could just take the system over to your place," he points out.
"No," Pacifica says flatly.
Dipper lets it go.
They play until the light outside tints with the purple of evening. Everything is finally how it should be; the sense of incompleteness that has lingered since the end of summer is banished. They are whole again, and ready to write the future together.
Even if that future involves Dipper taking another blue shell to the butt, because he cannot catch a break this round.
The floor of his room subtly vibrates as the garage door opens; Mom and Dad must be home. Bent on taking the lead in the race, Dipper doesn't pause the game until he hears footsteps on the stairs.
Mom leans around the doorframe. "Kids, come help carry— oh! Pacifica?"
Pacifica shoots to her feet. "Mrs. Pines!"
Mom steps forward to wrap Pacifica in a warm hug. "It's so good to see you again! When did you get here?" She then adds, in a lower voice, "You didn't run away, did you?"
"No, nothing like that," Pacifica says. "I moved here with my mom! We live in Piedmont now."
"Honey, that's wonderful! You'll have to tell me all about it. Come on, you two," Mom says to the twins. "Help carry in groceries."
Pacifica doesn't seem even slightly perturbed at being expected to participate in the chore. She's the first one down the stairs, and Dipper can hear her reuniting with Dad in the garage. Dipper realizes that even this, one of the most mundane acts in this household, is something she was a part of once and was afraid she would never be a part of again. No wonder she has zero interest in hanging out at her new place. In that short time between her last arrival and the start of summer, this house was a more real home to her than any she had before.
Now it can be that for her again.