Hi, Briz here :)

This is not the first fanfic I ever wrote, but it is the first one I'm publishing anywhere. I wrote this about four years ago so it isn't my best writing ever, but I think sharing some of my older stories will help me overcome a bit of my sharing-my-writing fears, and maybe gain some confidence in my newer writing.

This takes place directly after the Northwest Mansion Mystery episode. AU where Pacifica and the Pine twins are sixteen, seventeenish. Inspired by the fanfic 'Anywhere but Home' by Crazy Ky-Sta Hatter. Enjoy :)

Pacifica laid on her bed until 1 am. She had been there on her back unmoving, combing over every detail of her life. Whatever pride she had had in her family name was gone. Whatever false pride she had in herself was gone.

Another link in the world's worst chain. He had been sorry. But he had been right.

Unwanted, locked away memories began to tear apart their chained prison in her mind. Memories of how she once was. She winced as they began to unravel, the pain fresh as the scars were re-opened.

Second grade. The first time her parents had let her go out to town. She was home-schooled, taught by a prestigious (and tedious) governess. Her excitement to meet other kids overcame any nervousness. She had met plenty of tiresome, wealthy brats, sure, but they held their noses up and acted as if they weren't kids at all. She wanted to talk to real kids.

What a mistake.

The kids at the playground asked in awe about her clothes and hair and earrings. She didn't want to talk about herself, but they kept pressing. Of course her parents never let them near the house or let her go to theirs. However, she could still buy them ice cream and buy expensive presents for birthday parties she could never attend. For a few months, she was happy. Her father said she was doing them a favor, giving them charity. She didn't see it that way at all, but she knew better than to talk back and hear the bell, and earn a slap.

And then things became more clear. Around her, her friends could only talk about her money. It was a slow realization, but when it hit, it hit hard.

"Are you guys only friends with me because of my money?" she eventually confronted. It was ungraceful; it was blunt, but she had found herself being more and more of that lately.

An awkward silence ensued, a couple of them shuffling their feet.

Her eyes filled with tears. "I can't believe it. It's true!"

When no one denied it, she ran off.

"Dear," her mother said in the car, "We've told you before. You're too good for little beggars like them." She continued to adjust her makeup, glancing over for a second. "You better stop that before we go inside. You're much too old to do that sort of thing, Pacifica," she said sternly.

She placed a tightening hand on her crying daughter's shoulder before getting out of the limo. It felt just like ice, and Pacifica shivered.

Fourth grade. Tiffany and Aubrey were always with her when she went to town, there to remind her that she was a Northwest. She had a responsibility to be the best, and no one else could achieve her standard of superiority.

Sometimes she could make herself forget. She'd find a quiet room in the house and let go of the facade she had to always keep up. She'd forget family pride and just be herself, painting pictures with glitter and rainbows. She'd wear the oldest clothes she could still fit into and get everything all over her, mussing her hair and the tarp under her feet. For an hour or two, she could just be Pacifica. Even if it was lonely.

But then she got caught. She spent the night in a closet, and the rest of the year in extensive lessons. Her parents grilled 'Northwest pride' into her mind more frequently, mercilessly. Whenever she did what she was told, she was rewarded with more allowance and something even more valuable to her: her parents pride.

Then, it clicked. If she finally did the things she did privately the way she did publicly, her parents would get they want. She would get what she valued most.

Sixth grade. Nightmares. She dreamed of that day in the playground and that night in the closet. She dreamed of the hits and the bruises that she used to get. It was then that she decided she needed to forget those memories for good. So she did. Whatever guilt she had sometimes felt for acting the way she did, it was gone.

The public Pacifica completely became the private Pacifica. She wasn't just mean because it's what her parents expected, she did it with feeling. She did it with pride. She could think just like her parents, and mean it. Mostly.

She was a Northwest, and no matter how she acted, she was the best. She had worth. The rest of the world was going to bow down, because her superiority was real.

Now.

She had successfully kept all thought of those days from resurfacing. Allowing them to bleed through felt like a mistake. Tears stung her eyes, memories of her recent self burning in her eyelids. How she treated others. She still had a governess, but her time in town had increased over the years. There were people to remind of who she was, and what she stood for.

And then came the Pines. Making her feel like the jerk she was. Making her feel incompetent and stuck-up, the way how she viewed the other rich kids when she was small. And then…and then…

She sobbed.

They were sorry.

They would compete with her, her overconfidence eventually failing her. They would beat her. And then, they would apologize. And they meant it.

Dipper. The quirky guy had made her feel like she could do anything, like she could defy her parents and stand up to a blood-thirsty ghost. Because of him, she did. She still didn't know how she had done it, she really didn't. All of her family pride had broken inside of her when she found those paintings.

She had avoided her parents for the rest of the night, and luckily they'd been too preoccupied with the wealthy guests to confront her. The last thing she wanted was to spend another night in the closet, or to earn a new bruise on her cheek.

Pacifica had looked over the dance floor that night with a confused heart. She had done the right thing…even if that hooligan hobo McGucket was ruining the carpet. She smiled a little, grateful that Dipper had been able to make her feel better for a moment. She watched the red head (what was her name…Wendy?), Mabel, and Mabel's friends sticking their heads in the chocolate fondue. Instead of scoffing, she just rolled her eyes, almost smiling.

Tiffany and Aubrey had long gone, and she doubted whether they'd talk to her again. She didn't want them to, although their reputation was at stake so they'd probably come back as if nothing happened. They'd never admit to abandoning her to her doom…but it didn't surprise her in the slightest that they did.

It was then that she started to remember, memories of childhood starting to swarm her mind, seemingly out of nowhere. She panicked, dread tightening her throat and fists. Her gut twisted, and she grabbed the railing in front of her, knuckles white.

"Pacifica?" a wary Dipper asked.

She was able to muster the strength to keep it away. Filling her thoughts with what people looked like as wood was not ideal, but it worked for now.

She straightened her stance and regained composure, looking back out at the dancers. "You startled me," she said cooly. "Don't do it again."

Dipper tilted his head a little. Although she was determined to hide it, it was clear that she wasn't herself. She was downcast, her face completely contrasting to every way he'd ever seen it before. It was…bizarre. It seemed like he could have just imagined the pained expression she had been wearing. He knew better.

"Are you okay?"

She had been the meanest person he'd ever met, but something had changed in her. He was sure of it. That's why she pulled the lever. He had been nice to her even when she was terrible. There was no reason at all, after what she had done, that he shouldn't be nice now.

"Of course. We defeated the ghost, didn't we?"

He raised an eyebrow incredulously. "We?"

She blushed, but her expression remained the same. She wouldn't look at him, but rolled her eyes. "I don't want to admit it, dork, but you did most of the work. It's what you do: all that weird mystery biz. But I pulled the lever, so I did do something. If it weren't for me, you'd be wood."

"Pine, to be exact."

He watched in great amusement as she tried her absolute hardest not to laugh, her eyes bulging a little bit. She ended up coughing as he laughed.

Before he could say something smart, she pointed out Grenda and Marius.

"Would you look at that. That's the first time I've ever seen him do anything but his model face."

"His model face?" asked Dipper, stepping to stand completely beside her.

"Oh, yeah. That snob always does this face which makes everyone fall all over him. He always has it on, but whether it's on purpose or not I can't tell."

His mouth opened in awe. "Pacifica Northwest, admitting to not knowing something?"

She elbowed him in the ribs and he chuckled.

"Anyway, I've never seen him without it. Apparently, the guy can smile."

"Have you danced with him?"

"Ugh. Every year. My parents have me go through the routine of dancing with every guy on the list near my age. They've prepped me to behave during real dances like this my whole life."

They looked around, watching the police officers scarf down appetizer after appetizer.

"Well," Pacifica continued, "not exactly like this."

Dipper laughed, and she almost asked him why. I don't make people laugh, I make them cry. That automatic thought sent her head into a tailspin. She gripped the railing again, the song slowing down. Who have I become?

He almost touched her shoulder, but shrunk back. "Hey," he said quietly, still getting a bit closer. "It's okay to not be okay, you know. After everything that's happened, it's understandable if you can't keep your cool."

Keep my cool? She glanced over at her parents. Doesn't he get it? She gave him a side glance. His face betrayed his concern. Or maybe…not betrayed, just showed it. He wasn't trying to hide it. Why doesn't he try to? Why doesn't he care about hiding? Why do I care?

"My parents may not be able to get to me yet, but they'll definitely notice if I sneak away," she found herself whispering. When he didn't answer, she looked over. His hand was held out. Her eyebrows shot up.

He sighed. "Look. Your parents have done enough, by lying to you all this time about your family. Tonight they tried to get you to abandon what you knew was right. Maybe you can't escape the consequences of what you did, but most of the consequences are good. I mean, look at how many people you made happy tonight."

Pacifica looked out briefly. Marius had a dopy smile, Mabel's eyes lit up as she saw a second course of dessert come in, and even the miserable reporter guy was joining the officers in their competition. The lights were low, and although everything was a mess, it was beautiful. Beautiful…

"You deserve a good time tonight," he said, his hand still outstretched. When she looked up from it, a corner of his mouth was lifted up slightly. "Your parents might not agree, but I beg to differ."

With a smirk, she took his hand. "You mean, beg to dipper?"

She found his shocked face to be plenty amusing, and it took him a second to recover enough to laugh along. They joined the other couples on the dance floor, starting a stumbling waltz. His hand on her waist made her stomach flutter. She almost yelled at it to stop, but he talked first.

"I had no idea you could be like that."

"Funny, you mean?"

He sheepishly nodded. "Well, yeah."

She shrugged. "I guess I didn't really either. Humor isn't encouraged in a home like this."

Dipper frowned. "I'm sorry." He was close enough to her to see right into her eyes. However nonchalant she sounded, her eyes completely gave it away. She cared, and quite a lot. And I do, he realized. Why?

She shrugged again. "Hey, who am I to complain? I live here."

He looked around again at the towering ceiling and jeweled chandeliers while trying not to trip. She watched him, trying to keep him upright as he was distracted. He barely had an inch on her, but he was taller. If he was going down, she was going to fall with him.

"It's not everything," he said, eyes refocusing on her. She looked nice. Really nice. Why hadn't he noticed before? She looked almost…happy to be talking to him. Dancing with him. He almost shook his head in bewilderment, but instead said, "By the sound of it, you and your parents don't exactly see eye to eye."

She looked away. "They didn't know that until tonight. At least, not really. Once you know my parents, it's easy to act the way I do in front of them."

Dipper reluctantly let the next words come out. "So it was an act."

Pacifica let go of his hand and stepped away, ready to run if she had to. She could not have this conversation. He grabbed her wrist to keep her there, the other one up in surrender. She struggled against him, but he was stronger than he looked.

"It wasn't an accusation! Well, maybe it was, but it's a good thing that it's an act!"

She faltered, her struggling pausing.

She looked like a deer in the headlights, and he didn't want her to run off. This was a break through, a reality check. He really believed that she was more than how she had acted towards him, towards everyone. Especially Mabel. For some reason, seeing her vulnerable in the hidden room had done something to him. Coming out of his wooded state to see the lever down had done something more.

He had faith in her. He almost wanted to hit himself, to remind himself that this was Pacifica Northwest, that someone like her couldn't just change in the blink of an eye. Maybe not ever. But maybe she had. Maybe she hadn't just changed a little. Maybe she had been different underneath all along…

Seeing he had her attention, he slowly stepped towards her, keeping his grip. "Pacifica," he said, voice lowering, "If you aren't the person they think you are, or thought you were, that's not a bad thing. I don't exactly think your parents are the best at judging good character."

"What…" she managed cautiously, "What are you saying?"

He replaced his assuring expression with a determined one. "I told you earlier that it wasn't too late for you. Pulling the lever might be the just one step in the right direction, but it doesn't have to end there. It could be more than that."

To his surprise, a tear ran down her cheek. "You don't get it at all," she said quietly. He was just close enough that he could hear her. "I'm…I'm trapped in this life, Dipper. There's no escape for me. I don't have a choice."

"Yes, you do," he said firmly. "You made a choice tonight, without your parents. Without this life." His hand swept over the lavish ballroom.

"I only made it because of you."

His grip loosened. "But you still made it on your own. No one could make you do it. And—"

Mabel chose that particular moment to appear.

"Hey guys!" she said excitedly. "You know the slow song ended, right?" she added slyly.

Dipper let go of her hand like he'd been burned by acid, and she didn't blame him in the slightest.

"The girls are ready to go now that Marius left. Grenda's about to pass out, she's so swoony! And good job with the ghost, bro," she said, punching his shoulder.

"Actually, it was Pacifica who pulled the lever. It wouldn't have worked without her," he told her, keeping his worried eyes on Pacifica.

She lifted her gaze to the fluffy pink girl.

Mabel's eyes were golden with amazement, a huge grin on her face. And was that…pride? "Wow! That's amazing! I always knew there was good in you," she said, bumping her shoulder. Pacifica didn't react in any way, just watching as she told Dipper she'd meet him in the car. She skipped away, almost tripping on her dress but recovering quickly with a giggle.

His eyebrows contorted in concern as he watched Pacifica's face grow blank. He waited a minute, and then she looked up as if she'd forgotten he was there.

"I'll show you where your clothes are."

He followed her through the room, catching her father's unhappy eye for a moment. He shivered. He was definitely glad he wasn't raised in this house. He wanted to rekindle the conversation…it was really getting somewhere. But he wasn't sure he could do that now, with her downcast body language back again.

The images of wood figures were doing a poor job now. She knew that Dipper could tell something was wrong, so she continued to stride ahead. There was no way she was showing him her face.

His clothes were folded neatly on a chair, left by a butler. She tossed them to him without turning around.

"Keep the suit. It looks nice on you." Did I really just say that?

He sucked in his breath and awkwardly said, "You know, if you ever need anything…to…talk, or whatever…don't hesitate."

Bowing her head, unable to stop tears, she nodded. She couldn't risk any fault in her voice. His awkwardness was something she had always found a little funny, if not also a little endearing. A little endearing? You did not just think he's cute.

She laughed a little at the thought. Only she could manage to laugh at something while crying. She bit her lip when she realized that he must think she was laughing at him. "Sorry. I'm distracted. Thanks for the offer, but I won't need it." She could feel his presence remain behind her. Why won't he leave? Mabel's waiting for him.

Warily, he stood his ground. She was acting strange, and not the good, nice strange. Her voice seemed strained. Reluctantly, he turned to the door.

"If you say so."

"Dipper?"

He paused midstep.

She didn't turn around, but took a deep breath. "Thank you. For everything."

He nodded but realized she couldn't see it. "You're welcome."

At 1 am Pacifica sat up. No more. She was crazy. She knew it. She packed a duffel bag, one she'd been sure she'd never use for anything when she bought it. She was still crying, but through her blurry tears she managed to pack a few outfits along with a little makeup and a few granola bars. She stripped her ballgown, grabbing the top to rip it apart. After a few tight breaths, she tore it and left it dangling off her bed. She slipped on old clothes and her only pair of durable shoes.

She flipped the security switch, setting the timer for it to turn back on in ten minutes. She slipped out the threatening, dark front doors and out the front gate. Her heart pounding in panic, every old part of her telling her to turn around. To march straight back into the house and return to the way she should be.

But there was an even older part inside her that was awake now. It wouldn't be easy to silence her. She took a deep breath, wiping her last tears away. She didn't want to silence her. She wanted to be her again. And heaven knew, she did not want to face her father's fist the next morning. She did not want to submit to the horrible bell that had kept her mouth in line, year after year of her miserable so-called life….

So she set off, tripping over tree roots and running into branches. By the time she reached the creek she had stinging scratches and burning eyes. She had no idea where she was going, but she didn't stop. It's this or my parent's prison. Memories of bells and closets, of bruises and burns pressed her on. She'd find anywhere, anywhere, to escape them. At least until she could breathe on her own. At least until she could stand in front of them and tell them she was moving away, away from Gravity Falls, away from their claws and suffocating expectations.

Soon she was running, running and tripping, as if they were after her. She could hear their voices in her head, as if they truly were chasing her. As if they knew it had always been her secret dream to run away from the life and person she didn't want to have or be.

She burst through another bunch of trees, landing right on her face. All her breath was taken away, and she lay there for a good minute, seeing stars. Eventually she dragged her aching body up, eyes adjusting to the sudden light ahead.

The Mystery Shack.