Credit to skyblitzhart for the cover.

I don't own Gravity Falls or any of their characters. They belong to Disney.

This story is a Dipper/Pacifica plot-with-porn story. The lewds begin on chapter 2. The story takes place 3 years after the series, so the twins and Pacifica are 15 years old, but ignores all the events that took place after Northwest Mansion Mystery, so neither Weirdmageddon nor Ford ever happened.

· · ·

It was a hotter summer than it had been in a span of years, weather extremes of a changing world leaving the air thick with heat and the humidity from the distant but never-far-enough ocean to the west, and swarming with gnats, a practical cloud of unbelievably annoying and air frolicking bugs that only left their diligent posts in the thick air to seek shelter from the hottest part of the day. And that's what it was now; a glance through the diner window to the barely visible digital clock a half block down at the modest bank spelled it out with primitive red LED lights. 1:13 PM, Monday the 18th, 101 degrees F. It didn't say 100% humidity with not even a single damn cloud in the sky, but it didn't have to.

What one would have seen if they were masochists, out in the heat to be miserable, through the temporary shifts in sun coverage, would be her staring at them through her diner's most about-faced window. She would appear to them, if they cared enough to be observant, faceless and young-boned, the only distinguishing characteristic worth an individual's aesthetic pleasure would be the blonde hair just vibrant enough to clear past the natural dulling factor of a window's view.

"Hottest day yet." Pacifica whispered more than said.

"Hmm? What's that now?"

Pacifica Northwest, heir to a grand fortune and the load of sycophantic balderdash that comes with, glanced up now. She had forgotten she wasn't alone here in the booth; she had brought her friends too, all seeking an oasis from the oppression of axial tilt. And she had forgotten what they were doing before they fled the sun… Maybe, she thought passively, she forgot that for the same reason she could never even remember their names. Her friends, that is…

"Nothing, just talking about the heat." Pacifica replied, eyes half-closed.

"I know, right?" Her friend began, filing her nails over the table even as sweat beaded on her brow just beneath her chocolate hair.

"Air conditioning barely works in here. Excuse me, can we turn up the AC, or are we too busy being poor?!"

And there goes the other. Pacifica watched Thing 2 spout off with fake importance and heat-induced frustration as Thing 1 half-contentedly filed away, editing errors that didn't exist in her otherwise flawless nails. In recent months, Pacifica had noticed how much her little satellites had been annoying her. She supposed it started after spring set in; they seemed even more ridiculous than ever before, and the charade she watched before her only made Pacifica all the more frustrated with herself.

"For the love of God… stop picking at your nails." she nearly let burst from her lips. "Your clumsy hands won't make the manicure better. And you just need to sit down!"

When her short hair friend sat down again, she couldn't help but think that Pacifica looked angry. Staring across the booth, she noticed her friend, or perhaps more relevantly her meal ticket to relative self-worth in the backwater of Gravity Falls, was slouching in her seat with eyes narrowed and teeth visibly grinding.

"Uhm… You okay Paz?"

"Don't call me that…"

"Huh." She sighed and closed her eyes. "It's hot. And I hate hiding in Lazy Susan's diner."

"I know, right?"

"Nothing better to say? That's not even an answer! Dumb cows…"

Things hadn't felt right in three years now. Maybe it was her. Looking out the window again, seeing Main Street run up and down the core of town, seeing the occasional foolhardy townsfolk scurry from one building to the next to sponge free air conditioning… Pacifica didn't feel the same.

"I don't know." She pondered. "Maybe I know too much now. Just like them…"

And with that thought she looked out the window again, this time for real. An interstate bus rolled by, its engine rumble just barely audible through the glass and the tedious behavior of her companions. The bus and the broken sentence together made her remember… well, quite a bit.

"Hey, do you think last summer was the last time they…?"

"…they?" Her nail-filing friend said earnestly, finally looking up, finally responding without a haphazard pop phrase.

Pacifica looked back at her little lackeys once more, both looking for some cue, some opening to best make themselves appear less useless. Their leader wanted to say what she meant to say. She wanted to say that she had had more fun when the twins were here than any other time these two bootlickers occupied her time. She wanted to say that there was this whole world just under the skin, and like blood and bone it was something that was hot, and fluid, and primal, and much more interesting. And she wanted to say that she missed them, Dipper and Mabel. Dipper and Mabel… and Dipper.

"Nothing," she said instead, brushing her long bangs out of the way, "just hot out there."

"You keep saying that. You alright, Paz?"

Silence was the only answer. And watching the bus open its door and let not a single soul out of the whole vehicle caused Pacifica Northwest to slump ever deeper.

· · ·

· · ·

When a bump in the road woke him up by knocking his head against hard glass, it was already getting late. He had to rub the sore spot that may or may not evolve into a knot later, wipe a small patch of drool from his lip and look to the western sky before wakefulness would fully set in. The sun was going down...

"Mabel," Dipper said before yawning and looking at his watch-less wrist. "What time is it? Mabel?"

She was sleeping too, more peacefully than him. And why shouldn't she, she had taken his pillow and left him to slam his head into the window whenever the road should become bumpy enough. With her ears plugged and flooded with quietly playing boy band pop music, it would be likely that without Dipper's intervention she had sleep through every stop through to Canada. He took a look at her MP3 player; Sev'ral Timez on infinite loop? It stopped being cute when she was 14. Well… okay, so she was only one year older now. Maybe he'd say something when she was graduating, if it came to that.

"Okay Mabel," He said more to himself, switching off the cycle of love songs and pulling the ear buds out of her ears. "Mabel, time to wake up. We're almost there."

"Nooooo." She said sleepily, pushing him away by his face.

He laughed a little, giving up as soon as he had begun, but knowing that she would be awake soon. With a stretch and a groan, Dipper took to his feet and staggered from the back of the bus to the front. As he went, he looked out the windows and took to remembering; the mountains looked familiar now. They were definitely close. He wasn't entirely sure how close, since it had been a whole ten months since his last trip. Nothing had changed, it looked like.

Finally at the front of the bus, but still lost in thought, Dipper hadn't noticed that he was passively annoying the driver. The grizzled, bearded little man that operated the vehicle was scowling at him, but that seemed to cause little change. After seven awkward seconds, he cleared his throat, then unceremoniously began to shout.

"Whaddya want?!"

"Whoa!"

Dipper fell back a step, grabbing onto a seat rail for security as the driver's outburst coincided with a tight turn around the hillside. It took a moment for Dipper to regain his footing, but only a moment. Looking back at the driver, the teenager had to muffle any indignant anger that might have felt totally justified.

"Just wanted to know how far we are from Gravity Falls, man."

"'Bout twenty minutes. Please take your seat."

And with that, Dipper was dismissed. Staring out the windshield with an irked expression he submitted that the moment, for all its stupid worth, was over and, just as it fleeted, he also beat a hasty withdrawal. He dropped down next to his sister in the back seat just the driver took another turn in the mountaintop hairpin, making his landing sloppy and knocking him into his sister. But rather than become annoyed, Mabel did little besides giggle like an enthralled child. Once Dipper had straightened back up, swiping his hands over his shirt to correct any wrinkles he had accumulated in sleeping and falling about the bus, he sighed and habitually looked at his wrist again. Not seeing his watch though, he grumbled and turned to Mabel.

"Mabel, did you take my watch?"

"Why? I have my own watch."

Dipper gave her a knowing look.

"Okay, maybe." She said with a large grin as she lifted her arm and pulled back her sleeve, revealing she had two mismatched watches on her sweater addled wrist. "I thought it'd be funny."

"Well… what time is it?" He asked without anger or amusement.

"Heh heh, time for you to get a watch."

"I'm not laughing."

"Yeah you are!"

"Nope." Dipper shot back with a grin creeping onto his face. "You're not clever."

"Yeah I am!"

To drive the point home, Mabel began jabbing her brother gently in the ribs with her fingers, causing him to twitch and writhe and very much laugh. Ticklishness was one thing Dipper hadn't grown out of yet, it seemed. After a bit of this, though, Dipper finally caught Mabel by both hands, and holding the left steady he glanced at her ill-gotten watch. His. His ill-gotten watch.

"8:05? Is that right? Huh…"

"We probably shouldn'ta taken the later bus, huh?"

"Nah, it's cool." Dipper said with a shrug. "You had to take care of your biz."

"Yeah." Mabel giggled again. "Toby is so gonna love that letter I left in his shoe."

"In his shoe? Mabel…"

The twenty minute ride passed quickly in this way, all thought of time absorbed in this banter until the bus did glide into the street lamp glow of Main Street, Gravity Falls. The sun had set in the time between then and now, leaving only the amber glow of the old streets mixed with the fading neon of the town's one bar and the dim fluorescence of machines left on in one or two storefronts. All that and a pair of headlights left on, lighting up the side of bus station and standing vigilant as the last sign of activity in this bizarre and bizarrely sleepy town. It didn't take more than a quick glance to see what car it was; only one person in all of creation would drive that 50s POS with that ruddy paint job and that old, beat to hell paneling. The bus pulled to a stop, the door swung open with a grind and a hiss, and the twins shuffled single file to the front and out the door. And when the Pines twins set foot upon the pavement, there he stood.

"Heh, hey kids!"

"Gruncle Stan!" they shouted in unison.

The inevitable hug followed, the mutual glad-to-see-you laughter adding to the rhythm of the bus engine as the short, bearded driver lifted and dropped the twins' luggage. Dipper noticed the burly grump handling an important package much as he would a bale of hay, which made him jump into action.

"Whoa, hey, I got that man." He said almost shouting as he reached out to grab the long, cylindrical piece of luggage.

The driver only shrugged and returned to his work, closing the luggage gate when he found there was nothing else to withdraw.

"Take it easy, string bean." The gruff old dwarf said as he swatted between Dipper's shoulders in a jesting manner, as though they themselves were old friends. He did, however, shake Stan's hand before climbing back onto the bus and slowly pulling away.

"You know that guy, Uncle Stan?"

"What, him? Never met him before. In a war. In Grenada… Never mind that, let's get your suitcases in the car. And whatever the heck this thing is." Stan said with a raised eyebrow and tap on the long cylinder Dipper held aloft with a broad nylon strap.

"It's a telescope. Thought I'd bring it and check out the stars out at the shack."

"He's all into regular nerdy stuff now." Mabel said with a whimsical tone and a brief titter, "as though all that mystical, magical wizard crud wasn't good enough!"

"I can be into regular stuff too, Mabel."

"Pfft! That's what that sounds like!"

Between Dipper's laugh jumbled objections and Mabel's lilting giggling, the still street seemed more alive than it had been all day. As nine o'clock approached though, it was decided that the time had come. The three Pines filed into the dilapidated car and set off to the woods. Dipper glanced out the window as they passed Lazy Susan's diner, noting the lights turning off one by one as Lazy Susan herself closed up shop.

· · ·

· · ·

It was already 11 AM by the time Pacifica had reached town, and it was already hot as sin. Yet again. She felt the sticky stagnancy of a body never left to dry, not feeling any less smothered by water from the moment she got out of the shower. Her long blonde hair still felt a mess, and Pacifica fought with it every other minute just to appease the crawling sensation in her flesh. Her skin shuddered under her purple t-shirt and jeans, and she mindlessly scratched at the fabric and wiggled her toes in her white pumps and tugged at her stupid matching designer belt that she thought had looked good in the mirror but now she just plain couldn't stand. In truth, she hated being out in town at all under the best of circumstances; it was painful, lately, to make believe with her parents.

But then, that's why she was here right now, idling awkwardly in front of the modest Gravity Falls Miniplex. Her parents were still at home, holed up in their self-righteous ivory tower, judging everyone down below as they scurried about on their short, pointless lives. And judging her.

"Paz, there you are."

"Don't call me Paz." She muttered tiredly.

"What?"

She didn't realize she'd said that out loud. Breaking from daydreaming, Pacifica stood up straight and waved her hand about, silently dismissing the unwanted drama of having to explain why she didn't like anyone calling her Paz. It seemed easier.

"It's nothing, let's just go inside already, it sucks out here."

Pacifica turned and looked up to the marquis. The movies were… terrible. No new films had been released in months.

"Gravity Falls Miniplex." Pacifica said with a mocking tone. "'Two movie theatre experience!' Who do they think they're fooling with that 're' spelling? This is about as far from European as you can get. Or maybe they're just bad at spelling."

"Should we wait for—?"

"We'll wait inside." Pacifica answered swiftly, leading the way in without pause for consent. Opening the door gave her an instant rush of… dissatisfaction. The air inside the movie theater was woefully warm, and Pacifica traveled from discomfort to near-sickness in the span of a second.

"What should we see, Pacifica? We should decide now."

"The two of you can figure it out, I'm getting a drink."

In the time it took to get her off-brand cola, Pacifica's second auxiliary made her appearance, and the two worked independently to select whichever mediocre film of the available two would be worth watching; the Northwest heiress paid the cost herself for the three tickets, knowing her mooch friends would likely stoop to asking anyway, and the trio filed into the theater to see…

"Evil Twin Three: Country Cousin?" Pacifica asked drearily. "This movie again?"

"You said we could decide," they said together.

They sat in the back together, Pacifica's friends together, happy to see the B movie flick that they thought had a cute male lead from ten years ago, then Pacifica herself at the aisle seat, considerably less amused as the horror film title card lit up the screen. It wasn't five minutes in before she knew that enough was enough. Just looking at the screen, watching the horrid cinematography, listening to the god-forsaken music choice of the opening sequence, all of that just meshed together with the sickly feel of the floor under foot and the implacable itch that ran up and down her spine.

"Bathroom." Pacifica said curtly, almost rudely. "I'll go alone."

Did she add that last bit for them, or for herself? She wondered that, but not long; the moment was gone in the blink of an eye. The restroom, she found, was cooler than the theater hall, and even the theater itself, though it smelled of ammonia and… well, something she couldn't quite identify, though for some reason it made Pacifica think of a cave. Her eyes found the mirror, and she saw frustration within. She took a step toward it, then another, then more, until she was at the sink, and the only thoughts in her head were mean-spirited and angry ones.

"I'm not here for this. Screw this! Screw them!" She shouted, the noise reverberating mercilessly around her. A deep breath to quiet her nerves echoed in the ceramic chamber just moments after. "Screw them. They can watch whatever movie they want, doesn't matter to me."

She left the bathroom, then the theater; the street was hot, and stretched out apathetically up one way and down the other. But this didn't make her feel bad any more than ditching her vapid little minions did. Actually, it was refreshing in a way. The weather was oppressive… but that wasn't because it chose to be, it was incidental. Pacifica's friends chose to be this way, this short-sighted, sucking-up for immaterial non-gain way. They were parasitic. But the world? The world just didn't care. Yeah, that was refreshing in a way.

Pacifica, refreshed all while being assaulted by the smothering summer air, decided she'd walk around. Maybe, she thought, something more interesting lay in one of the shops she had committed herself to disliking for so many years; the thought alone made her think twice about hating going into town. Maybe it was just the thought of being in town with her friends or family. One shop seemed particularly enthralling, drawing more than just Pacifica to its doors with a brightly colored sign and a flurry of sci-fi sound effects. She wandered in, not knowing what else to do, and not caring to know.

"Welcome to Big Gunz Laser Tag. How can I-? Oh, wait." The clerk said as he looked this new guest up and down. "Oh wow, are you who I think you are?"

"Yeah, probably. What's this?"

"It's laser tag, Miss Northwest!" The clerk excitedly barked. "Would you like to try?"

"Dunno." Pacifica answered, considering the annoying sounds, crowds of children and awkward adults, and above par air conditioning. It was almost cold in this building, actually. And clearly this isn't the sort of place Pacifica Northwest would be found… so naturally no one would look for her here. "Think someone could spend hours here?"

"Aww heck yeah, laser tag is awesome!"

"Fine." She answered. "Suit me up."

The clerk, happy to have such a high-profile customer, gleefully took Pacifica's credit card and led her to her equipment. She never had a chance to look out the storefront window and see the Pines twins as they wandered past.

· · ·

· · ·

It was six o'clock by the time she got home, the heavy door of Northwest Manor closed behind by one butler or another; after a stint of hiring and firing, Pacifica didn't even know the difference between any of them anymore. It was sad, really, the anonymity… she wondered if they felt sad too. But before she could leave the room, there was a call for her.

"Pacifica, come into the study this instant."

The sound of her father's disapproving voice made her cringe; it seemed like disapproval was all he felt for his own flesh and blood, these days. Shuffling to the study with her head held a little lower than usual, Pacifica turned her eyes up to see him. Preston Northwest stood looking out the study window, staring down on Gravity Falls like it was that much further beneath him while she lingered in the doorway.

"Into the study, young lady."

His harsh tone stunned her as much as his sixth sense; she hadn't made a sound, at least in her mind. Just the same, she complied, taking a seat on a nearby chair, since she knew he would ask that of her anyway. Preston turned and looked at her with disdain.

"Where have you been?"

"I was at the movie—"

"You weren't." He said coldly. "You weren't at the movie theater."

She bit her lip and looked at the floor. He had an uncanny way of making people feel small.

"So where were you, who were you with, and what were you doing this time?"

That struck her wrong, made her blood boil a bit.

"Why don't you know?" She asked venomously. "You seem to know everything else."

"I swear, Pacifica!"

"Oh goodness, Preston, what are you carrying on about now?"

Mrs. Northwest entered the room calmly, a half-consumed martini between her fingers. She spun the drink in its glass out of boredom as she glanced at her daughter. Her mother's eyes, somehow, seemed more disgusted than her father's.

"Ah, I see." Mrs. Northwest said through her teeth, carrying on as if Pacifica weren't even there. "She made it home."

"Good to see you too, mom." Pacifica said as she trailed off.

"Pacifica, don't even speak! This is bad enough for you as it is!"

Preston paced about as his wife sighed and sat in an old wingback, sipping at her Cosmo without much more of a word or expression. Only the sound of her father's feet was audible… and like so many things today it made her flesh writhe. Finally, with a long, sad sigh, Pacifica dropped her head and closed her eyes.

"You can just… you can just say it now."

"Insolent girl!" He began. "Who do you think you are?! You're a Northwest! Galavanting around town like you've been! Do you think I haven't noticed? Always sneaking off! Leaving your friends and going who knows where!"

"Those two aren't my friends…"

"Pacifica." Her mother said with rolling eyes. "Don't interrupt."

Preston carried on without much of a notice.

"Do you think the town isn't talking? Spreading rumors? About you? And us?!"

"What? I haven't heard anything."

"They're saying that you're disgracing your family, Pacifica! Slinking off with one boy or another!"

She looked up into his eyes; he was serious, or believed he was. Apparently someone was saying these things. But who…? She knew who, actually. Those snakes. Deep down, Pacifica had begun to suspect that her friends had been false. There were little cues, little Freudian slips that pointed toward backstabbing.

"Dad, those are lies! Mom, you have to believe me!"

"It doesn't matter what we believe, Pacifica." He said with a sneer. "The town believes you're a whore. Frankly, I don't care what you tell me. You've been nothing but a disgrace these past three years. Now… get out of my sight."

She looked from one to the other, expecting some shred of empathy, any sign of parenthood. But Pacifica saw none of that. In fact, seeing much of anything in the room was hard. Numbed by the bitter vitriol, Pacifica couldn't tell why the study seemed like it was melting in front of her very eyes. When a warm, bug-like itch on her cheek caught her attention, she put a hand to her face and wiped away the first of the tears that began their exodus from her reddening eyes. Sobs shuddered from her gut, but she dared not let them out of her throat. The dignified thing to do, the Northwest thing to do, was get up and leave. But the front door was her destination rather than the stairs; if her parents wanted her in her room, they should've been more specific, she convinced herself. The butler was waiting, opening the way and shutting it behind her as Pacifica silently left the house. Through the heavy door though, the manservant could hear loud crying and deep sobs. He walked to the study, stoic features not betraying the waters that ran deeper.

"Anything else, Mr. Northwest?"

"Don't let her back into the house until she's ready to apologize properly."

The butler, no matter what he felt, no matter how much that voice deep down screamed to say something, anything, merely choked down his emotions. If he wanted to keep this job, he would do that much, if only for now.

"Yes sir, Mr. Northwest."

· · ·

· · ·

She cried. She walked and she cried. And she kept walking for hours, her pumps clicking against the cement as she went about with burning tears streaking her face and ruining her make up. Every now and then she'd pass some poor sap on the street who would step awkwardly to the side like they were trained to. But to Pacifica, now more than ever, that was driving her outright insane. After about the fiftieth towny to dodge her, she started to run, stumbling a bit in her unwieldy high heels. She stopped for a moment, leaning against the wall long enough to pull her shoes free from her feet and tossing them to the ground before she started to run again, this time aiming for an open field with no one she would know there.

Her feet stung by the time she got to the field, not used to spending so much time on the hard pavement of the streets and sidewalks, and the cool feel of the grass against her soles made Pacifica slow to a walk. Her breathing was fast, hitched, and labored, and eyes were blurred by tears and exhaustion. It was dark now, or at least nearly dark, and only the last edges of the setting sun and the strongest of the town's lights were visible over the tree line. And it was all quiet. Only the sound of her breathing was at all audible here, challenged by neither songbird nor cricket. Walking through the short grasses of the field, Pacifica found a derelict, rusted out pickup truck oddly penetrated through the flatbed by a short, unhealthy looking aspen tree. This seemed as a good a place as any; she slumped against the ruddy thing and stared out across the field. The only thing in her line of site was an old wooden platform set up on ten foot tall stilts maybe a hundred yards off. It looked lonely…

She burst into tears again, sobbing loudly in her solitude and smothering her face in her knees. Her jeans were rough on her sheltered skin, and her running beauty products would probably ruin the fabric, but she didn't care. It had to be let out. It had to or… there was no or. There wasn't a choice. And for what felt like forever, there wasn't anything else, just the sadness pouring out into the quiet, uncaring dark. When she finally stopped crying, Pacifica looked up. The night was all that was there. No judging parents. No traitorous cronies. Just the night; and just the like the day, the night didn't care about her. It would have been nice if it had, but at least the night didn't hate her.

"At least this is okay." She said at last through near-silent sobs. "This is okay, I guess… Hmm?"

A flicker of light, a faint yellow-green. Chartreuse, maybe? She knew the color, but not that it would just pop up in the middle of a field in the almost pitch black. There, again, a fleck of light in the nothing, then another.

"Oh… fireflies."

The field started up with a life of its own, activity of the minutest form glittering in the air just a foot above the earth. More even than the apathy of world, the beauty of it stunned Pacifica and quelled her discomfort. And in that moment she was good again, if only for that moment. Though, she swore she could faintly make something else out in the dark, shuffling along in the grass about a hundred yards out, about as distant from her as the solitary platform.

"Is that an animal…? No. I think a person…"

She sat quietly, waiting for what may come next. It wasn't what she expected though. The figure in the dark stopped suddenly and began shuffling around in the distance. Faintly she could hear a voice, a young man she guessed. It sounded like he was frustrated, cursing tamely at a rock he had stumbled over. A moment later there was a light, and Pacifica reflexively ducked down behind her knees as though they would shelter her. Whoever he was, he had retrieved his flashlight and turned it on to illuminate his path. Without knowing it, Pacifica had started to crawl through the grass to get a closer look.

"That's stupid. Why didn't you have that on to begin with?"

The figure continued his path. The way he walked… even from this distance, Pacifica could tell it was a 'he'. Definitely an unfamiliar 'he', though. The figure stopped at the platform, befuddled by it for a time. Seems as though he had not thoroughly planned his journey, since now that he had reached the solemn structure he was having trouble figuring out its logistics. It looked as though he had a large burden: the flashlight, a bulky pack, and a long, obtrusive object, it seemed. After some juggling, the figure pocketed the flashlight and started gingerly climbing a ladder up the side of the platform, setting his load down on top when he had finally made it. She couldn't tell what he was doing up there… especially since she had managed to make her way to the platform herself, and now stood next to the ladder that the young man had just ascended. Sounds of unpacking and scraping and quiet mechanical adjustments met her ears, but nothing more defining than that.

"What are you doing up there?"

For a time, Pacifica stared up the ladder wishing someone would say something, that he would poke his head over the side and introduce himself. Something. Nothing is what she got. She shuffled her feet and crossed her arms, inwardly oscillating between speaking up and leaving. Finally, though…

"Hello." She said quietly. "Who's there?"

There was a pause in whatever was going on on the wooden planks overhead, but as it turns out that was less because of Pacifica and more because the young man sneezed rather kitten-like before resuming his work. Weird way to sneeze, she thought.

"Okay then… I'll just, uhm…"

Her fingers found the rough wood of the ladder displeasing, and at first she took her hands away from the splintering boards with a mind full of second thoughts. Her eyes glanced up, and there was just something about this that seemed demanding of follow through. A breeze picked up, and the way it danced with her hair made Pacifica feel at ease. She smiled and took a calm breath, filling her lungs with that cool air, and put her hands to the ladder once more, pulling herself up for one foot, then another, rung by rung until her eyes were over the top.

Whoever it was had set up some equipment in one corner of the platform; in the dark, it looked sort of like a camera tripod, standing to his left. There was a large, lengthy tube on the floor panels near the tripod, and to his right there was a lantern that he lit as she watched. The light revealed the mystery man in full, at least from behind, since he was facing away from her. Pacifica clung to the ladder and took note: the lantern cast a soft light across the lanky figure, lighting up his worn out jeans, pale red-striped button up shirt, and a shock of brown hair which hung messily over the back of his neck, pinned down by a baseball cap. Her heart skipped… it was uncanny, to say the least, how much he looked like Dipper. And moved like Dipper...

"Hello?" She said quietly. "Are you…?"

The young man turned slightly as he assembled his contraption, not enough to reveal his face but enough so that she could see he had ear buds blocking out the sound of the night, and keeping him from hearing her speak so softly. This whole thing was making her feel a little sad; was she seeing Dipper in this nobody just because she was so damn lonely? She could talk to him, though. Pacifica could climb up, tug on the guy's shirt, and Pines or not she could still strike up conversation, because anything would be better than going home. The young man had set the mechanism she watched him tinker with on the tripod, and she realized it was a telescope.

"No." She began to convince herself. "He's here for a reason."

As he put his head down to adjust the eyepiece, he bumped the bill of his hat against the telescope.

"Ugh, really?"

That voice… it was deeper, true, but it was still so very familiar. It had to be him. Pacifica poked her head up higher to watch the young man pull the hat off his head and toss it to the floor, and her eyes immediately took in the sight of the worn-out, blue pine tree woven into the white fabric.

"Dipper… Dipper Pines!"

She climbed up the remaining distance separating her from the floor and stood uneasy, watching him pause and turn his head as he pulled one ear bud from its place to investigate what he was sure was a voice. His eyes found her waiting, starting with her bare feet and working up to the top of her head.

"What? Pacifica Northwest?"

"Dipper." She said with a sniffle, doing her best to stifle it. "You came back."

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