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Pacifica was definitely going to sue someone over this.
She coughed as dust settling to the ground got in her lungs. Groaning, she tried to get her currently splayed-out body from off the cavern floor, but each movement ached terribly. If she hurt this much now, she didn’t even want to think about how sore she’d feel tomorrow.
Even so, as Pacifica took stock of her body, she didn’t feel any significant pain besides a small stinging sensation on her arm. Seems her lucky streak of never having broken a bone managed to persist through a literal rock fall.
She somehow managed to get herself into a kneeling position, blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. A small amount of light streamed in through a small crack above her, but taking in the rocks piled up on all sides of her… Pacifica didn’t have to be a genius to know she was caved in.
Looking down, she grimaced at the state of her outfit. She had worn some cute adventuring clothes for the outing today, consisting of an olive green button up and high waisted shorts, but it was now all in ruins. Pacifica had been hoping to impress Dipper, show him she really was up for this sort of thing—
Dipper.
Pacifica swore. She immediately threw her gaze around, trying to make out his form in the darkness.
“Dipper??” She called, her voice bouncing off the encasing stones. No response.
Pacifica started to panic, getting shakily to her feet. She patted her waist and was grateful to find her cell phone still in her pocket and immediately whipped it out. The screen was horribly cracked (lovely) and there were zero bars, but when she flipped the flashlight setting on it thankfully lit up, which was all that mattered right now.
She threw the light across the room, spinning in a circle. Where was he? Had he ended up on her side of the rockfall?
What happened earlier was all a blur. She and the Pines family had been venturing further into the underground cavern, searching for more sap-encased dinosaurs, when suddenly they heard rumbling. She remembered Stan and Ford calling their names, then suddenly Dipper was there, pushing her out of the way… oh god, what if he was under the rocks? What if—
A quiet groan interrupted her thoughts and Pacifica whipped her light towards the sound. There, in a dark corner of their enclosure, laid Dipper’s prone form, his face turned away from her.
“Dipper!” Pacifica called, immediately running over to him and kneeling by his side. With shaking hands, she gently grabbed his face, turning it towards her light.
She sucked in a gasp when she caught sight of blood. A thin trickle was sliding down his face from underneath his bangs, and he seemed to be unconscious, his eyes closed and his skin pale.
“Oh gosh, ok, oh my gosh….” Pacifica found herself saying over and over. She wanted to cry. Had she really just been worrying over her outfit when Dipper was literally passed out cold 10 feet away from her?
For a couple dumb seconds she looked around as if to find and summon her family’s private doctor, but quickly remembered that it was just the two of them. Just her and the unconscious body of her best friend, buried under who-knows how many layers of rock.
This was on her.
That realization finally helped her push down her panic and take a deep breath, trying to recall any small bit of first aid knowledge she possessed. Forcing her shaking hands to still, she first felt for his pulse, which was there (thank god) then scanned him up and down for any other signs of injury. She thankfully didn’t see anything else concerning, only minor scratches and bruises on his limbs. His jeans and blue flannel shirt were dusty and ripped, and his hat was nowhere to be seen. Pacifica couldn’t help but notice he was much taller than when she had first met him, his arms more muscular—
Nope. Don’t you dare think about that right now, she told herself, annoyed.
Finally, she circled back to his most concerning injury, more blood dripping down from his forehead. Biting her lip, she carefully pushed up his bangs, hoping to get a better look at whatever injury he could have, steeling herself for a horrible head wound…
Instead, she found something much more odd. On his forehead there were red dots and lines marking his skin. At first she thought it was a scar, but as she looked closer, she saw it was very much a part of his skin. With a disbelieving gasp, she quickly realized it was the shape of a constellation.
“The Big Dipper…” she mumbled in awe, confused but also extremely curious about this mark that Dipper had been hiding. She snapped out of it, though, when blood dripped onto her hand, and she quickly changed her focus to the cause of the bleeding.
Just above his hairline she found a small gash, still freely bleeding. She let out a breath of relief that it didn’t appear to be too serious. He would need stitches or staples for sure, but for now it looked like putting pressure on it would be enough to staunch it.
She quickly tore off the bottom of her shirt. The part of her that was a fashionista quickly protested and reminded her how much it cost.
“Shut up. It’s in ruins anyway,” she replied to her thoughts, rolling her eyes.
“But rugged girls are in this season,” the fashionista pointed out.
Ignoring that, Pacifica carefully but firmly pressed the wad of fabric to Dipper’s head. The pressure must’ve been painful, since Dipper let out a quiet groan, trying to turn his head away from the pressure.
She grabbed his jaw with her other hand, keeping his head still.
“Oh no you don’t,” she said, using her “I’m not taking your crap right now” voice that she often used with Dipper. Normally when he was about to jump off a cliff to fist fight with a Gremoblin or something.
“Pacifica…?” Dipper weakly asked, blinking open his eyes. Pacifica barely hid her sigh of relief seeing him awake, though she wasn’t able to keep her chin from trembling. His eyes were slightly unfocused and his eyebrows were pinched with pain, but he somehow managed to meet her gaze, one of his hands weakly clenching and unclenching, as if searching for something to hold. She automatically grabbed and held it with her free one.
As he looked at her, confused and in pain, she realized this was probably the part where she should say something comforting.
“Idiot,” she blurted instead, the word coming much more easily to her tongue. “What were you thinking, shoving me all heroic-like and getting knocked out by a bunch of rocks? Now we’re caved in underground and stuck here for who-knows how long.”
A ghost of a smirk appeared on Dipper’s bloody face.
“Better than a burlap sack, though, right?”
Pacifica snorted, rolling her eyes. As much as she’d never admit it, those few minutes with Dipper in that sack was one of her most cherished memories.
Seeing a bead of blood escape her now-soaked rag, she pressed harder, making Dipper wince.
“Sorry, Dipper,” she mumbled, no longer able to hide her concern. “How are you feeling? I didn’t see any other injuries besides your head, but I have, like, zero doctor skills…”
Dipper closed his eyes and hummed, looking as if he was taking stock of his body.
“Just a heck of a lot of bruises, I think. Probably have a concussion. But I’ll be fine.” He gave her a concerned look.
“What about you? Are you hurt?”
“I’m not the one covered in blood and lying on the ground, dingus. I’m fine. Totally not hurt.”
He had enough to worry about right now, she reasoned. She could spare him the details of her aching body.
Dipper hummed, giving her a once over, then looking around the enclosure best he could given the limited head motion Pacifica was offering him.
“So we’re really stuck here, huh? ...I’m sorry, Pacifica. The caverns have never been unstable before, I wouldn’t have asked you to come if I thought—”
“I wanted to come,” Pacifica immediately interrupted, blushing slightly when he looked at her. “I… I want to get better at adventure stuff, you know? Spend more time with your family.”
Spend more time with you, she thought.
Dipper squeezed her hand, seeming to hear her unspoken words. “I’m glad you came.”
They were quiet for a minute as the situation settled on them. With Dipper out of commission, and neither of them strong enough to make any of these boulders budge, all they could do was wait for rescue. The small enclosure was dank and chilly, making Pacifica want to both cough and shiver at the same time.
After a couple minutes, the bleeding finally stopped, so Pacifica released the soaked shirt-rag. She then pulled off the bandana she had used to tie up her hair to wrap around his wound. As she carefully but tightly circled it around his head, she caught a glimpse of the mark again.
She cleared her throat.
“Um, so, Dipper… your forehead.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What about it?”
Pacifica averted his gaze awkwardly as she tied it off, then sat back on her heels. “Is it, um… a tattoo or something? Or is that actually a birthmark?”
Dipper suddenly grinned, reaching up and brushing his bangs up so she could get a full view of it.
“How do you think I got my nickname?” he chuckled. “It’s always made me a little weird… the doctors couldn’t explain it to my parents. Grunkle Ford thinks it’s one of the reasons I ended up in Gravity Falls since weird things are drawn here.”
Pacifica felt her eyes bug. She opened then closed her mouth, then finally sputtered, “Dipper isn’t your real name??”
“You didn’t know? ‘Dipper’ isn’t exactly in the book of baby names, Pacifica,” Dipper snorted, turning on his side and propping his bandaged head on one of his hands.
Pacifica blushed, throwing her hands in the air. “I don’t know, Dipper! People have weird names around here! I’m named after the freaking Pacific Ocean because my parents thought it sounded fancy!”
That got a big laugh out of Dipper, and the sound of it made something flutter in Pacifica’s chest despite her embarrassment. Ignoring the feeling, she huffed and crossed her arms.
“Ok then, Mister Nickname, what’s your real one? Spill it.”
Finally collecting himself, Dipper flopped back onto his back, not seeming to have the energy to fully sit up. He winced again, probably remembering he had a concussion, then smirked.
“You’re going to have to work harder than that to figure it out.”
Pacifica brushed her hair back with a flick of her wrist. “Challenge accepted, Pines.”
Suddenly, there was a shout from up above. Dipper and Pacifica both perked up at the noise, which was then followed by the sound of rock shifting against rock, along with some faint grunts.
Dust spilled from the ceiling and for a moment Pacficia thought the rocks were going to crash down on top of them. Without thinking, she threw her body over Dipper’s, shielding his head with her arms. But then there was blinding light that glowed through her eyelids and she turned her head upwards, blinking.
“Kids!” Stan’s voice called, sounding closer now. Feeling her pupils contract in the harsh new light, Pacifica managed to make out the shape of Mr. Pines’s face peering through a large gap in the rocks above them that hadn’t been there before.
“Pacifica, Dipper, can you hear me??”
“We’re here, Grunkle Stan! We’re okay!” Dipper called back, and in that moment Pacifica realized she was still dramatically, protectively thrown over him. She sat up with a snap, blushing fiercely. But Dipper hadn’t seemed to mind. He grabbed her hand again, squeezing it.
“Is anyone hurt??”
Dipper hesitated, so Pacifica jumped in, knowing Dipper wouldn’t talk about himself at all.
“I’m fine, but Dipper hurt his head. He’s not bleeding anymore but we think he has a concussion.”
They heard some quiet mumbling of Stan presumably conveying the information to Ford, then he turned back, his voice dripping with concern.
“Just… just hang tight kiddos. Alright? We almost gotcha. Pacifica, try to keep him alert.”
Pacifica swallowed and nodded. Sure, she could do that. She had something she needed to figure out, afterall.
“Drake?”
“Hmm?” Dipper asked, blinking with confusion. She noticed with concern that his expression was starting to go lax, his eyes cloudy.
She nudged him with her knee. “Your name, dingus. I’m trying to guess it. Daniel? Doug? Dean?”
“Those sound like middle-aged men's names. And it doesn’t start with a D.”
“Okay then… Joseph? I feel like you look like a Joseph…”
“Nope. Keep trying.”
She continued guessing as they watched the gap above them widen, little by little. They could hear Ford shouting something about stability and physics, as well as what she thought was the distant sound of Mabel crying or laughing, she couldn’t tell which. Each time the rocks shifted she froze with fear, but then quickly remembered her duty and turned her attention back to the semi-conscious boy in her charge.
She had narrowed it down to the “Ma-” names by the time their rescue finally came. Suddenly bathed in light, it was only a second before Stan dropped from the ceiling like some kind of mission impossible guy, at their sides in an instant.
Pacifica watched softly as Stan fussed over his nephew, brushing his hair back and examining him all over. Dipper chuckled and batted him away despite his drowsiness, and the scene made a little bit of jealousy twinge in Pacifica’s heart. Her parents could never be half the kind of parental figure Stan was.
Then he turned towards Pacifica.
“You alright, pumpkin? Looks like you got a scratch on your arm.”
Pacifica blinked, shocked by the sudden attention. He gently took her arm and rotated it back and forth to get a good look at the small, bloody scrape she hadn’t realized was there.
He gave her a wrinkled smile. “We’ll getcha a bandaid in the car, alright?”
Pacifica nodded dumbly, watching as he turned back to his nephew and carefully scooped him up in his arms.
“Heads up!”
Suddenly the smarty-version of Stan was popping out of the gap, throwing down a rope ladder.
Stan gestured with his head for Pacifica to go first, and she automatically began climbing, eager to get out of this dumb rock cave (even if she hadn’t minded the alone time with Dipper).
After a tricky climb, Ford gave her a hand to pull her all the way out, and she flopped over on the ground with an exhausted huff. Climbing the ladder had been no easy task as it had swayed with every motion, so she watched in amazement as Stan somehow easily made his way up after her while simultaneously holding Dipper over his shoulder. The old guy was stronger than she gave him credit for.
Pacifica didn’t even get the chance to figure out where exactly she was now before something collided with her, and she had to stabilize herself as she found herself tightly wrapped up in Mabel’s arms.
“W-we thought you guys wer-were dead!” Mabel sobbed (ah, so she had been crying) on her shoulder. Pacifica returned the embrace, once again reminded why she likes spending time with the Pines family. The amount of love they shared with each other, so freely and openly, was addicting.
Once Stan had made his way up, Mabel left her to rush to her brother's side, crying his name.
“You’re such a dum dum!” she wailed, grabbing his hand.
“Good to see you too, sis,” Dipper breathed from Stan’s arms, looking relieved to see her safe.
As Pacifica dusted herself off, she looked around to find they were in the same part of the cavern where the rocks had collapsed, now looking slightly different with the altered rocky terrain.
“We need to leave before anything else falls,” Ford urged, grabbing Pacifica and Mabel’s shoulders and steering them towards the exit.
It was a quiet climb back, the only sounds were their feet shuffling on the gravel, Mabel’s sniffling, and Stan’s gentle nudges keeping Dipper awake in his arms. When they finally made it to upperground, Pacifica was dead on her feet, only just able to slump her way into the back seat of the car. Stan carefully laid Dipper’s head on Mabel’s lap, and Pacifica nodded her permission when he moved to put his legs over her own lap.
“Easy does it, Dip-dop,” Mabel mumbled, gently patting his hair with a concerned expression. Looking at him laying there, with dried blood all over his face and a tired expression, Pacifica suddenly felt a surge of gratitude and affection towards him. How many people in her life would willingly push her out of the way of collapsing rocks, at the potential cost of their own life? Not many. At least, not anyone who wasn’t paid to.
The car suddenly started with a lurch, with Stan flooring the pedal.
“Gah- careful, Stanley!”
“We’re an ambulance right now, Sixer, I’ll go as fast as I want!”
The car zoomed across the forested road at an impressive speed, making Mabel giggle a bit, securing her arms tighter around her brother. Pacifica braced an arm against the door handle and looked out the window. Her thoughts returned to her and Dipper’s unfinished conversation from earlier as she saw a few stars start to make an appearance in the colored evening sky.
“Is it Mason?” she blurted, causing both Mabel and Dipper to look up at her in surprise. It was a guess that had been in the back of her head since she got down to the Ma- names, and it felt right for some reason.
“How did you…?” Mabel mumbled, and Dipper gave her a small nod, smile widening.
“It suits you,” Pacifica said, then immediately felt her cheeks go red when Mabel gave her the look. It was the same stupid look she always seemed to give Pacifica whenever she and Dipper said something nice to each other, spent time together, or hugged.
Thank goodness she hadn’t seen when they were holding hands in the cave.
“I’m still going to call you Dipper, though,” she stated, stroking her hair nervously as if that would do anything to get the dirt and leaves out. “At this point it’s weird to think of you with a different name. Matches your forehead, and whatever.”
“You showed her your birthmark??” Mabel gasped and Dipper chuckled, ignoring her as he responded.
“Thanks, Pacifica. Yeah, I think I like being called Dipper better, too. Can’t let you be the only one with a weird nature-themed name, huh?”
Pacifica hummed in agreement, turning her head slightly to glance at him. He was looking at her, his pain-glazed eyes somehow gleaming with fondness. If her face wasn’t red before, it definitely was now.
Ocean and stars she thought as she looked at him, surprised by her sudden poeticness. Even so, she liked the thought. She could imagine a picture of the Big Dipper gleaming on the waves of the Pacific Ocean, so beautiful and perfect together.
She tucked that picture away for later, maybe she’d paint it sometime. (As long as she kept the painting a million miles away from Mabel's snooping eyes.)
As the car raced into the night, Pacifica felt a gentle hand slip into hers. She smiled, continuing to look at the pine trees passing by.