Pacifica Northwest took a deep breath and composed herself. She needed that time, because she was probably the least composed she'd ever been. She'd walked into that dreadful minigolf pit expecting to eviscerate that lame Pines girl, the one who actually didn't care she was uncool. (And, a small but louder than average part of Pacifica's mind reminded her, had deserved that party crown Pacifica had cheated her way into getting…) She'd expected nothing but savagery and uncouthness from these lowlife peons, who reveled in their poor ways instead of lifting themselves up by their bootstraps and making something of themselves.
In one sense, she got what she expected. Mabel had cheated her way to a successful minigolf game by making an alliance with these…weird little freaky living minigolf balls. Yeah. That was a thing that had happened. There were living minigolf balls now. Of course Pacifica had heard all sorts of rumors about the supernatural living in Gravity Falls. Even whispers her own family had achieved some of their success through making deals with a demon. But they had just been rumors. The Northwests had gotten where they were through hard work and stick-to-it-iveness. There were no such thing as ghosts or demons or…whatever the heck those things were. Until now.
So if Pacifica thought about it from that angle, that Mabel had selfishly cheated and nearly gotten Pacifica killed out of a combination of jealousy and her own stupidity, then, yes, it was easy to brush off tonight's events as just one more indignity inferior commoners did to superior rich people such as herself.
The problem was, it was getting harder and harder for Pacifica to think of it in those terms. Tonight, it felt like everything she thought she knew was flipped on its head. Dipper supported his sister when he had nothing to gain from it. Mabel saved Pacifica's life and didn't even ask for a reward. The Pacifica of yesterday might have laughed at them for their foolishness. Tonight, such behavior seemed like its own kind of strength. Would her mother have helped Pacifica if there wasn't something to be gained? Would her father have saved Pacifica's life if it put his own at risk? Pacifica was starting to realize the answer might just be no.
But all this was silly, she said to herself as she walked into the foyer of the palatial Northwest Mansion. Of course her parents loved her. Of course they'd do whatever they could for her. Yes, they could be harsh, even cruel sometimes, but that was simply because they needed to do whatever was necessary to mold her into her best self. Pacifica knew that parents who said they loved their children, who indulged in maternal or paternal weakness, were just setting their children up for failure. The world was harsh and cruel. There were parasites everywhere, just waiting to get their grubby little mitts on a fortune they hadn't deserved. Pacifica had to be the best. Or she wouldn't be a Northwest anymore.
Pacifica walked into the living room, her hands clasped in front of her with precision, her face filled with an attentive yet submissive expression. The same expression she'd practiced in the mirror every day. The expression she had to practice, because it came so badly to her. Pacifica hated being subservient to anyone. She was bold, she was innovative, she was the heir to the Northwest fortune. She should be able to chart her own course!
The first thing Pacifica noticed when she entered the room is that Sergei was standing there next to her parents. Pacifica was shocked. She had thought Sergei had died after being thrown off the golf cart. For some reason, a stab of guilt went through her, even if she knew there was no reason for it. It wasn't like servants like him were real people. Father often said that and he knew what he was talking about.
But Pacifica had barely seconds to think of the ethical dilemma before her when the bell rang. Every time it rang, Pacifica's mind couldn't help but go back to those long afternoons of training. To the salt in the blood and the electricity and the switch. To the pain which never seemed to end, which Father could summon at a moment's notice with the ring of that accursed bell. It paralyzed her. It was infuriating and humiliating. She could not master herself and that meant the bell had mastered her. She was not a pet on a leash! She was strong! She was a Northwest! She did not deserve it. But it rang anyway.
"Father, Mother," Pacifica said with a word perfect curtsy as she stared at Sergei in horror. He knew the truth. He knew she lost. And there was no doubt in her mind he had told her parents.
Father studied her as if she was a specimen on a microscope slide. Pacifica squirmed. She hated it when he acted like this. Mother usually tried to keep up the pretention they were a loving family when they were in private. Usually. But Father often just dropped that pretention at random. It was entirely unpredictable and entirely awful.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Father said, "Your mother is pregnant."
Pacifica couldn't help but smile as joy filled her heart. A sibling! This was amazing news! She couldn't wait to tease and outshine and love her new sibling. "Oh, that's great! Congratulations!"
Father glared at her and Pacifica cringed. She'd made a mistake again. "We've therefore given considerable thought to your placement in this family." What? No, no, no, no… "And we've decided we have no use for a weak little failure of a girl who can't even win a minigolf match…"
"It wasn't my fault! It was those living golf balls!"
"…who blames her failure on so-called living golf balls."
"What? No! They were there! They called themselves Lilliputtians! They almost beheaded me!"
Sergei looked horrified. He must not have known his actions were going to have this much of an impact. Foolishness. If he was as successful as he claimed to be, he should have known this was the law of the jungle. Then again, perhaps given his epic failure that night, maybe he was just a charlatan. "Mr. Northwest, I don't think –"
Father smacked Sergei across the face. The signet ring he was wearing carved a decent sized line into him. "That's right, you don't think. You do what I tell you to. Or I'll make a few phone calls and your old pal in the Kremlin will have you in a gulag faster than you can say borscht!"
He turned back to face Pacifica. "I was tempted to kill you for your failure. You're lucky your mother pleaded for clemency. You are not a Northwest anymore. You do not live here. You have five minutes to leave this house before I decide you are a trespasser…and treat you as such."
This couldn't be happening. Pacifica knew she was a weak, pathetic failure – she'd heard her parents say as much on a regular basis – but she couldn't believe they were just going to kick her out! It was so cold out there and Pacifica wasn't dressed at all for it. "Please, Father…"
"You are not and never have been a daughter of mine!" Father snarled, his voice filled with a horrifying level of anger she'd never heard from him ever. "I should have smothered you in the crib! My sense of mercy, of forgiveness led me to decide otherwise. A mistake."
Pacifica looked over at Mother. Sometimes, she could persuade Father to calm down when he was in one of his rages. But this did not appear to be one of these times. "Why don't you join your friends the hobos in the Mystery Shack?" she sneered. "It's the only place someone like you, someone who's not a Northwest, would be welcome."
To her endless horror, Pacifica thought she was about to start crying. Like a little girl, a weak pathetic idiot. Like Mabel would no doubt do. "Fine! You know what, fine! I'll go! You'll be sorry! I'll be even richer than you one day! You'll see!"
Pacifica stormed out of the house before those treacherous tears could leave her eyes. She couldn't believe this. The ungratefulness! Twelve years, she'd given to those…those vultures! Endless lessons of etiquette, comportment, style. Piano lessons, minigolf lessons, riding lessons! Striving for perfection with everything she did, knowing that the slightest misstep would involve the bell. And, if she was unlucky, further correction sessions. And it was all for naught! This was the thanks she got? Being kicked out over something as stupid and asinine as minigolf? It wasn't even regular golf!
She'd go to the Mystery Shack! She'd turn that rundown tourist trap into…something profitable! She'd create a business empire! She'd become the best Northwest in the whole northwest! Nothing stopped Pacifica Northwest, not commoners, not griefers, not even her own parents! All she had to do was make the walk. It'd be easy!
It was not easy.
Pacifica was so used to being driven everywhere, she'd kind of forgotten how long walking anywhere took. At least she knew where she was going and she didn't have to go through the creepy woods, but that was her only consolation. It started to rain a few minutes after she left and it was cold. She wasn't even remotely dressed for the weather. She was wearing basically a miniskirt for heaven's sake. What, were her parents trying to kill her? Even now, even after all this, she could hardly believe it.
She would be fine, she told herself, as the chill and the wind and the rain battered her with every step she took. The people at the Shack may have been a bunch of losers, but they were losers who probably had hot cocoa or a hot tub or at least a roof which would keep rain from falling on her. It was so hard, though. Each step seemed to cost her more and more. She felt exhausted, like a bunch of hammers were pressing hard on her legs and she could barely move them. Her teeth were chattering like they were a bunch of squirrels at a squirrel convention…hang on, what? That thought hadn't even made the remotest bit of sense. Remote. Mote? Did remotes have anything to do with motes?
"Inquiring Pacificas want to know," Pacifica slurred as she finally saw the damn shack on the very edge of her vision. "Mote? Mole. Moe? Moat! Morbid?" Was it her imagination or was the shack seeming to get smaller now? No, wait, she was walking backwards. She turned around and kept walking and walking and honestly there were so many steps. Would it kill them to install a moving sidewalk like civilized people did?
"I'm a Northwest," Pacifica announced to the dirt after she tripped and fell onto it. "What's it like being dirt?" She tilted her head. "Really? Fascinating. I wouldn't have guessed!" Ugh, what was she thinking? She couldn't waste her time talking to dirt. Not when its credit score was probably so abysmally low.
She finally reached the door and, her head spinning with the effort, knocked on it.
"What the heck do you want?" the boy Pines twins said. Dexter? Doppelganger? Jason? No, Dipper! Yeah, it was definitely Dipper. Or something equally stupid. "Oh, wow, you are not looking good at all."
"I always look good, Ritter," Pacifica snarled and then she fell face down onto the floor.
"Grunkle Stan!" Dipper called out, sounding panicked, as Pacifica lost consciousness.
Stan let out a grumble as he walked out of his bedroom. A man needed his beauty sleep at least once in a while! It seemed like he couldn't have one quiet day in Gravity Falls ever since the kids showed up. Of course this wasn't always a bad thing. Life had been so dull and boring before the kids arrived. They were a welcome change to his routine. But they had a knack for stirring up trouble. If only Dipper hadn't found Ford's journal! But if he hadn't, then maybe that trouble could have been fatal. And besides, if Dipper hadn't found the journal, Stan would never have been able to start the portal.
Stan wondered exactly what was going to be awaiting him now. More zombies? Perhaps a vampire or maybe a banshee or some sort of other monster. Much to his surprise, the very human (probably) Pacifica Northwest was lying facedown on the carpet, unconscious. Stan really hated that girl. Not just because she made his niece cry (though that was, of course, a massive factor), but because of that smug, ridiculous arrogance which reminded him so much of himself just before his life always took a wrong turn. But Pacifica's life would never take a wrong turn, because the rich didn't have wrong turns.
"All right, don't panic, Dipper," Stan said. "I'm sure she had it coming. The important thing is making sure we dispose of the body so it doesn't come back to haunt us. Thankfully, in this land of ours, there are many great pits, but none more bottomless than the bottomless pit."
"Stan!" Dipper snapped. "I didn't kill her!"
Stan frowned. "Then what, she fainted? Her ladylike disposition couldn't handle a bit of good old fashioned ribbing?"
"Stan, I think she has hypothermia," Dipper said quietly. Stan flinched. As much as he talked a good game about hurting children he despised, he never was willing to follow up on it. Well, except for Gideon, but that bastard was in a league of his own. He could never stand to see children in pain. "Do you think we need to take her to a hospital?"
Stan was very familiar with the symptoms of hypothermia during his time in Colorado, so he knew what to do. "No, her skin isn't blue yet, so it's just a mild case. Mabel!"
Mabel appeared as if summoned by magic. "Hi, Grunkle Stan! Oh, gosh, Pacifica! What happened to her?"
"It looks like she might have…walked all the way here from her house?" Dipper suggested. Oh, Stan definitely hoped not. There were only so many explanations for that and none of them were good in the slightest.
Stan turned to face his niece. "Mabel, I need you to get clothes for Pacifica. You're going to have to help her out of those wet clothes and get her into the dry ones. Dipper, help me move Pacifica onto the couch." Mabel was off like a flash. Dipper grabbed Pacifica's legs and Stan grabbed her shoulders and together they put her onto the couch. Under normal circumstances, Stan might have teased his nephew about finally getting his hands on a girl's legs, but somehow, Stan didn't think Dipper would appreciate it.
Mabel returned very shortly thereafter with a pair of jeans and a very nice looking sweater with a llama on it. Stan steered Dipper over to the kitchen to leave the girls alone. "Kid, did the girl ever mention things weren't…good at home?"
Dipper shook his head. "Do you think they kicked her out?"
Until you make us a fortune, you're not welcome in this household…
Stan scowled at himself. This wasn't the time to get lost in old memories. There was a child's life hanging in the balance. "Who knows? Maybe there's a reasonable explanation." But one wasn't presenting itself.
"Maybe…maybe Pacifica just wanted to come here and have a sleepover and was so excited she didn't think about changing?" Dipper asked desperately, but both of them knew Dipper was grasping at straws. Both of them knew the truth. They just didn't want to admit it.
Stan rummaged through his cupboards and found some teabags that were so old they were gathering dust. Stan wasn't much of a tea drinker. He much preferred coffee, but that wasn't safe for kids. He was pretty sure of that. The silence seemed to be much louder than actual speech would have been as he waited for the tea to boil in the kettle.
"You think her parents will hurt her if she goes back?" Dipper said so softly Stan almost missed it. "We can't let her get hurt. I mean, sure, she's the worst, but she's just a kid."
"You let me worry about that, Dipper," Stan said firmly. "It's not your job to worry about that kind of thing." The whole thing must have been a real shock to the kid. Alex and Dana were good parents. Better parents than Stan's parents had ever been, that was for sure. No one must have told Dipper about Pa's…temper. The idea of any parent hurting their child must have been foreign to him.
"She's awake!" Mabel called out.
Stan waited for the tea to finished brewing and then brought it in, feeling unusually fretful. He didn't want to set Pacifica off if the last adult to see her had hurt her. "Are you okay, kiddo?"
Pacifica was covered with blankets and looked bleary and dizzy, but she seemed lucid enough. "What do you think?" she snarled.
"I mean, do you have any injuries?" Stan said patiently.
"Oh. Uh, no. Just my pride." She tried to give a smug, confident grin, but Stan could tell that injury hurt her more than any mere physical pain could have given.
"Here, drink slowly," Stan said, kneeling down and moving the cup to Pacifica's mouth. At least one silver lining was coming out of this rotten situation: the kids were looking mightily impressed with him right now. "What happened?"
Pacifica was silent for a very long time. "My parents kicked me out."
Stan winced. He'd suspected as much, but it was still a blow to hear it. "Why? Because you lost?"
"Because I'm being shoved away for a new sibling," Pacifica spat. Your brother was going to be our ticket out of this dump! "And I lost on top of it."
"Oh, no!" Mabel said. "Pacifica, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to get you in trouble!"
Stan stood up with as much dignity as a man with a terrible back and even more terrible knees could. Namely, with very little. "It's not your fault, Mabel. If it wasn't this, they would have just come up with some other excuse."
The whole thing didn't make any sense to Stan. He didn't disbelieve Pacifica, but the whole affair seemed senseless and, well, ridiculous. At least his Pa had a good reason for kicking him out. He'd ruined Ford's project, even if he didn't mean it, cost him a school which could have made him millions. But what, Pacifica's parents dropped her after she lost a dumb game of minigolf? Northwest may have had millions, but they couldn't buy him an ounce of common sense, could they?
"You, uh, got any family I can contact?" Stan asked.
Pacifica shook her head, looking like it was taking all her self-control not to cry. Stan was proud of her. She was doing better than he had after he got kicked out. "I don't know where else to go. I can't stay here and –"
"The heck you can't!" Mabel shouted. "Grunkle Stan, please, please, let Pacifica stay here! It's not her fault her parents are assholes!" Stan's mouth dropped open. It wasn't unheard of for Dipper to let loose a swearword or two, but Stan didn't even know Mabel knew any swearwords.
Stan was probably going to regret this. But he kept remembering those horrible days after he'd been kicked out. He'd longed so much for someone to keep him safe, to look after him like his parents were supposed to. He couldn't let someone in the same position be left out in the literal cold.
"Look, there's got to be someone else who can take you in," Stan said. Pacifica's face fell. "So until we find that someone, you can stay here." Pacifica actually smiled. She had a really nice smile. It was a shame she spent so much time sneering with a smile that nice. "I'm not gonna tolerate any lollygagging. You'll have chores and you'll work in the gift shop like the twins."
Pacifica scowled, but nodded. She knew he had her over a barrel. "You'll stay in the attic with Mabel. Dipper, you'll have to move to F – to the spare bedroom. Looks like you'll get what you wanted after all."
"I never wanted it like this."
Mabel jumped up and down. "Yay! We're going to be best buddies, Pacifica!"
"Hooray," Pacifica said flatly.
"And we're going to make this work. Somehow."
Pacifica looked over at Stan, a tear now openly falling down her cheek. "Mr. Pines?" She steeled herself and then opened her mouth several times. "Thank you."
"Ugh, thank me by calling me Stan. Or boss when you're on the job. Mr. Pines. Ugh. What do I look like, some lame teacher or something? Honestly!" Stan walked out of the room to try to clean the…very strange detritus in Soos's soon to be former break room and he was pleased to see yet another smile on Pacifica's face.
