Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You care more about your dumb mysteries than your family? Well then, you can have them!” Stan shoved his brother, but instead of being knocked down, Ford began to float. “Whoa, whoa, hey, what's going on? Hey, hey, Stanford…”

“Stanley! Stanley, help me!” Ford screamed as he floated towards the portal.

“Oh, no! What do I do?”

“Stanley! Stanley, do something! Stanley!”

Ford looked so scared. Whatever was in that thing must be bad. He had to save his brother. No matter what.

He had an idea. A dumb idea. But it didn’t have to be smart. It just had to work.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Stan leaped towards his brother. The lack of gravity propelling him higher. He grabbed Ford and pushed him away from the portal.

Unfortunately, Newton’s Third Law of Motion meant that the action of pushing Ford away from the portal caused the equal and opposite reaction of Stan being sucked into the portal.

“NO! STANLEY!” Ford tried in vain to reach for his brother as Stan disappeared into the portal.

A blinding white light came followed by gravity returning full force. Ford hit his head on the ground. The room around him began to grow dark. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the portal shutting down.

“Stanley…”

Chapter Text

Ford found himself surrounded by books floating through the void. Which meant that he was in his mindscape. Which meant that he was about to see…

“Well, well, well. Look who finally went night-night.”

Ford had been purposely forgoing sleep just to avoid hearing that shrill mocking voice again. But he supposed he couldn’t put it off forever. “Bill!”

The yellow demon appeared before Ford. “Thanks for opening the portal, IQ. Unfortunately, it wasn’t open long enough for me and my friend to come through.”

Ford suddenly remembered everything that happened before he lost consciousness. Stan had come, they fought, Ford was about to go through the portal, Stan sacrificed himself to save him.

“But it was nice of you to send a new playmate.”

Stan…

“WHERE’S MY BROTHER?” Ford bellowed.

“What? You wanna see him? I thought you said you didn’t care if you ever saw him again?”

“No…I…I didn’t…” Ford had said that, but he didn’t mean it. He had just been angry. He was just angry.

“But fine. I can show you.” Bill snapped his fingers and the scene around them transformed into a dark dungeon. There were dozens of skeletons chained against the walls.

There was one figure Ford could see next to dim candlelight that was still alive and struggling to get out of his chains.

“Stanley!” Ford ran over to his brother. “Stanley, are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

Stan didn’t acknowledge him. He just kept pulling at his chains, grunting and growing more tired as he did so.

“Stanley, why are you…?” Ford tried to touch his brother only to have his hand phase through his brother’s body. Like he was some sort of ghost.

“It’s no use, Sixer. He can’t see or hear you.”

Ford whirled around to face Bill. “Let Stan go! Leave him out of this!”

“I didn’t bring him into this, Sixer. You did.” Bill was right. Stan was in danger because Ford tried to get him involved.

“Release my brother! It’s me you want!”

“Get over yourself, IQ. I don’t want either of you. What I want is that portal opened.”

“Never! I’ll never open the portal!”

“Really? Not even to save your brother’s life?”

Ford’s heart dropped into his stomach. He glanced over at a silver table near Stan. On said table were knives, maces, and metal pipes. “You wouldn’t…”

“I can and I will if you don’t open that portal.”

“I…I can’t…you’ll destroy everything…”

Bill sighed and rubbed his eye. “Maybe a little preview of the suffering your brother will go through can make up your mind.”

“No, Bill, please don’t hurt him.”

“Oh, I won’t hurt him.” Bill snapped his fingers. One of the skeletons on the other side of the dungeon stood up. The skeleton spontaneously grew skin, hair, and clothes on its body to appear as a living person. But not just any living person.

He made the skeleton a perfect copy of Ford.

“What…what is that thing?”

“In your world, I need to use suckers like you as meat puppets. But here in the Nightmare Realm, I can make my own meat puppets.” Bill floated over to the skeleton and phased inside it. The possessed skeleton’s eyes turned yellow.

With his new body, he began walking over to Stan with a sinister grin on his face.

“Don’t you dare touch my brother!” Ford tried to attack the false version of himself only to phase right through him. He turned around and desperately tried to grab Bill but his hands kept phasing through him. There was nothing he could do to stop Bill’s path to his brother. He finally got close enough to Stan to where he can see him come out of the darkness.

“Ford? Ford is that you?”

“No, Stanley! It’s not me! It’s Bill!” Ford realized his warnings were pointless. Even if Stan could hear him, he was still helpless to escape.

“Ford…I knew you’d come.”

The relief in Stan’s voice as well as his faith that Ford would rescue him made Ford even sicker knowing what was about to happen.

“Where is this place? What’s going on? What-?” Stan stopped short when he saw the face of what he thought was his brother. He knew right away something was wrong here. There was something in Ford’s eyes that he’s never seen in him before. It frightened him.

Instead of going to untie Stan, he went over to the table and inspected the different instruments of torture.

“Hey, uh, Ford…buddy…how about you play with toys later and help me get out of these, huh?” Stan said in a feeble attempt at lightening the mood.

He picked up a large knife from the table and nodded in approval before going over to Stan.

“That’s, uh, that’s a big knife you got. But I don’t think it’s gonna cut through metal.”

Bill gave a small laugh. “My poor stupid brother…”

Ford listened in horror. In the nightmare realm, Bill could even sound like him.

Bill put the knife against Stan’s throat. He gasped and looked up in confusion and fear. “Your skin isn’t made of metal.”

“Ford, come on, quit playing around. Just untie me so we can-” The point of the knife was dug further into Stan’s neck, shutting him up.

“Oh, I’m done playing around, Stanley. I was done playing around years ago. You’ve held me back long enough.” Bill held up his knife about to plunge it into Stan.

“NO!” The real Ford threw himself in front of his brother. But of course, the knife went right through him and stabbed Stan in the abdomen. He screamed in agony.

“Stanley! Oh my god!” Ford tried to put his hand over the wound in vain to put his hand over the wound. “Stanley, just keep breathing. You’ll be alright.”

But Stan couldn’t see his real brother trying to help him. All he saw was his brother trying to murder him. “Jesus Christ…Ford...why?”

“Relax, Stanley, that wound won’t kill you. I’m making sure to avoid any major organs or arteries.” Bill grabbed Stan’s face. “I’ve been waiting a long time to get back for all those times you held me back. I’m gonna enjoy it.”

“Please don’t do this, Stanford. I’m your brother.”

“Oh, but having a brother can be so…” Bill put his hand around Stan’s windpipe and began to strangle him. “Suffocating.”

“Bill, stop! For god sakes, stop!” Ford tearfully begged.

“Your words. Not mine.”

It was true. How many times had Ford told Bill he found his brother suffocating?

But Bill cut off Stan’s air until he finally lost consciousness. He turned his attention back to Ford.

Ford fell to his knees and clasped his hands together. Any semblance of pride he had was abandoned upon seeing his brother suffer. “Don’t hurt him again, please. I beg you.”

“As fun as it is to watch you beg, there’s only two things that will stop Stan’s pain: you opening the portal or the swift release of death.”

“Please…”

“Every second you waste deciding is another second your brother is slowly being tortured to death. So, I suggest you make it snappy!” Bill snapped his fingers.

Ford was pulled out of the mindscape as he regained consciousness in the real world. He hoped everything he saw had just been a dream. That he hadn’t really been stupid enough to summon his brother and put him in danger. That he didn’t really have to make the choice between the universe and his brother’s life.

But he saw it on the floor. The proof that Stan had been here: his brother’s lighter. The same one he had as a teenager. The same one he tried to burn the journal with.

He picked up the lighter with trembling hands. He wished he had just let Stan burn the cursed thing and end it all. He wished he burned down the portal. He wished he burned down the entire lab.

With Ford still inside.

Chapter Text

Stan was in pain. Bruises discolored his skin. Blood dripped from open wounds. His body still burned from when he received electric shocks that made him feel like he was being cooked alive. It made the burn he had gotten on his shoulder inside Ford’s lab seem like a papercut.

Chains kept his arms mercilessly over his head, not allowing any relief to his ached muscles. He had given up trying to get out of them as they only caused more pain. Unable to lie down or even sit, he could do nothing but hang limp as the cuffs cut painfully into his wrists.

But none of that was the worst part. The worst part was all of it was inflicted upon him by his own twin, his flesh and blood.

Unbeknownst to Stan, his captor was merely an imposter. His real brother had formulated a plan to rescue him. He tracked Stan’s coordinates within the Nightmare Realm. He would open the portal inside the dungeon where Stan was being kept. It was a risky move since Bill was most likely going to be there. Ford had to somehow get Stan out without letting Bill enter their dimension.

He had no idea how he possibly could. But his brother didn’t have much time.

So, he opened the portal into Bill’s dungeon. He pulled out destabilizer ray he designed with hopes that its mix of advanced technology and magic properties could work against Bill.

But, it didn’t seem necessary because, to his incredible luck, Bill wasn’t here.

His relief didn’t last long when he saw the state his brother was in. He sprinted over to him. His eyes were closed, his head hanging down.

Ford reached out to touch him. For a moment, he feared his hands would phase through his body like it did before when he was an incorporeal witness to Stan’s agony. But his hands proved themselves to be solid and real as they tenderly cupped Stan’s face.

“Stanley…oh my god…what has he done to you?”

Stan’s eyes fluttered opened. Instead of being happy or relieved to see him, they widened in fear. He turned his head away from Ford’s touch. “No…please…not again…”

“What? Stanley, no…it’s…it’s me.”

“Stanford…don’t hurt me again…please…”

“No…Stanley, it was…it was…Bill…he tricked you…I didn’t…”

“Please…kill me.”

Ford felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. “Wha…what?”

“Please…don’t hurt me anymore. Just kill me…please…”

“Shh, nobody will hurt you, Stanley.” Ford tried to keep his voice steady even as the rest of him was shaken by his brother’s request. He told himself that Stan was just delirious. Once he’s been properly treated, he’ll understand. “I’ll explain everything later. I have to get you out of here.”

Ford released Stan from his chains, catching him as he nearly pitched forward without the chains holding his weakened body up. He slung Stan’s arm around his shoulder, but rather than leaning on him for support, Stan tried to shy away.

“Stanley, lean on me.”

“No…Ford…don’t hurt me…”

“Stanley, please, I’m trying to help you. We need to get out before-”

“OH BROTHER, DEAR…”

The booming voice that just echoed through the dungeon, Ford recognized as his own. Except, it didn’t come from his mouth.

It was Bill. He was coming back to torment Stan.

Ford gathered all his strength to drag his brother toward the portal. Stan was too weak to resist and could only let out pained whimpers. It broke Ford’s heart, but he couldn’t afford to be gentler. They had to get through the portal before Bill.

“Stanley…” Bill mocked in a sing-song tone as he descended the stair from the dungeon door. “How’s about we go up a few hundred volts today? Wouldn’t that be-”

As Bill reached the bottom of the stairs he was surprised to see his captive free and being dragged by Ford into the portal. The very portal essential to his plans, this mortal had tried to use right under his nose.

“WHAT?” Bill growled in anger and floated out of the body of his Ford puppet. His body turned red and his voice resonated a monstrous echo.

Ford pulled Stan faster into the portal. They were almost there.

“STANFORD!” Bill zipped across the room towards them.

As Ford’s back touched the portal, he gave one last pull to get himself and Stan on the other side. They both collapsed to the ground.

The last thing Ford saw was Bill racing towards them reaching out his hand before the portal finally closed.

Chapter Text

The room was engulfed in a flash of light. Ford shielded his eyes as the portal closed before Bill could come through.

Their world was safe for the moment, but Stan still needed medical attention. Ford turned his brother to see he had passed out. Medically, not safe, but at least he had some respite from his pain.

Ford laid Stan’s head on his lap as he considered what to do next. The logical choice would be to take Stan to the hospital. But Ford was still gripped with paranoia. He had already been paranoid about possible attempts on his own life. Now, he also feared for his brother’s life, even more so than his own.

What if Bill possessed one of the medical staff? His mind conjured scenarios of a nurse putting something lethal in Stan’s IV drip, or smothering him with a pillow, or slitting his throat with a scalpel.

That meant his only other option was to keep Stan here and care for him alone. But Stan was in bad shape. Ford wasn’t a physician, and he lacked a lot of basic medical equipment. What if Stan died on his watch because he didn’t receive proper care?

He stared down at Stan with an agonized expression. Should he take him to the hospital and hope he’ll be safe? Or should he keep Stan here and hope he can keep his brother from dying?

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath praying he wasn’t making the wrong decision. He will keep Stan here and tend to his brother’s injuries himself.

The first thing he needed to do was clean Stan’s wounds. He draped his brother’s arm around his shoulder and took him to the decontamination shower.

He laid him down at the bottom of the shower. There were a few towels hanging on a rack next to the shower. Ford grabbed a couple. He laid one of them under Stan’s head as a pillow.

As carefully as he could, Ford took off his brother tattered clothing only to reveal more wounds laid beneath: cuts, bruises, burns, dead skin, pus, sores. The sight made him sick.

He turned the shower on. Cold droplets hit Stan’s body and made his blood flow off his skin. The bottom of the shower soon became red as Stan’s blood swirled down the drain. Ford gently scrubbed a towel across his brother’s body, making sure to be extra gentle over every bloody gash or raw burn.

Once he was satisfied every wound was properly cleaned (Ford had no desire to look at them longer than necessary), he turned off the water and dried Stan off.

Now came the tricky part: getting Stan upstairs.

He knew it wouldn’t be ideal for Stan to make his recovery inside a damp, dingy basement. He took off his coat and wrapped it around Stan before draping his arm over his shoulder to take him upstairs.

Dragging his unconscious brother up the stairs proved to be one of the most arduous tasks Ford has ever done. It left his arms numb, his back aching, and his face dripping with sweat. He was propelled forward by his brother’s weak moans of pain as they moved, invoking protective brotherly instincts that gave Ford the willpower to keep going.

He took Stan to Fiddleford’s old room and laid him down on the bed. Once his brother had been settled, Ford went to retrieve some medical supplies, including bandages to dress Stan’s wounds. He was more than happy to have Stan’s injuries covered up.

One burn in particular caught his eye. He recognized it as the symbol on his console. More guilt stacked on to Ford’s already heavy conscious. He blamed himself for his brother’s wounds, but still, they were only his fault tangentially. But this…this wound, he gave his brother directly. It was him lashing out at his brother, kicking him right into an object so hot it melted through his jacket and branded his skin. Ford did that to him, not Bill.

Ford wiped his misty eyes and finished applying the bandages. They covered nearly all of his body. It reminded him of when they were children and Stan would grab a roll of toilet paper and wrap it around himself to pretend he was a mummy. It always used to make Ford laugh.

But this was far from funny.

He decided not to put clothes on Stan as they would only cause more unnecessary movement his brother did not need right now. Plus, it would allow him to change his bandages more easily when they needed to be replaced. He did opt to at least put a pair of boxers on him for the sake of Stan’s modesty. 

He pulled the comforter over Stan. Now, there was nothing to do but wait. Ford sat in a chair to sit next to Stan’s bedside. On the floor next to him was a stack of all his medical supplies. He grabbed them all in one trip to ensure they were by his side and ready to use at a moment’s notice. On his other side was his crossbow for any threat that dared to attack his helpless brother.

He watched over Stan, using a bowl of cold water and a washcloth to sponge Stan’s face. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from his brother’s sleeping form. He needed unremitting visual confirmation that Stan was still with him.

Ford’s heart swelled when his brother began to stir. Little did he know that he’ll soon wish Stan had stayed asleep.

“Stanley, are you awake?” Ford asked softly as he moved closer. Stan only replied with more groans. He was struggling to open his eyes as though they had been glued together. He managed to get them halfway open and stared up at the ceiling with a dazed expression.

“Stanley, how are you feeling?”

After a few long blinks, Stan’s brain could finally decipher visual perception. He realized that Ford was standing over him.

All sleepiness disappeared from Stan in an instant, replaced by fear-induced adrenaline.

Stan bolted up and tried to get off the bed and get away from Ford. But he found that the bed he was on was propped against a wall, leaving him cornered. He threw his hands protectively in front of his face. “Get away…don’t hurt me.”

“Stanley…Stanley, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”

“Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me, please.”

“Stanley, it’s me. It’s Ford…Sixer.”

“Don’t…don’t, please.” He couldn’t believe how meek and feeble Stan’s cries were. Nothing like the tough, strong brother he knew and loved.

“Stanley, please…you don’t understand. It wasn’t me. Bill Cipher…he made some sort of doppelganger of me, and he used it to…”

“I’m sorry, Ford. I’m sorry for being a bad brother. I know I’m worthless. I admit it. Just stop hurting me, please.”

“Stanley, I…I didn’t do it. Don’t you believe me?”

“Please…please…”

Ford noticed blood was soaking through Stan’s bandages. “Stanley, you need to stop moving. You’re going to hurt yourself more.”

“No…no…not again.” Stan brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself. “No more…please…”

“Stanley, please just lie down. Let me help you.”

It was like Stan didn’t understand him. He didn’t understand the words he was saying. All he understood was that Ford’s presence meant pain.

Stan was bleeding out a lot, and he was getting paler. There’s no way he’ll keep still to let Ford rewrap his wounds. He had to do something.

He could only think of one thing to do, a horrible thing to do. But Stan was going to get hurt. He didn’t have a choice.

He ran down to his lab and grab what he needed: some chloroform.

He came back upstairs to find Stan still hugging himself rocking in the corner. He looked up at Ford with fear and anticipation.

“Stanley, I know you’ve been through a lot. I know you’re hurt and afraid. But please believe me when I say I only want to help.” Ford grabbed the rag that had fallen off Stan’s face and poured the chloroform on it.

Stan looked like he wanted to disappear into the wall. His eyes were filled with tears and small whimpers escaped his mouth. “Don’t hurt me…”

“Shh…” Ford approached his brother. Stan became more visibly nervous as he did. “I know you’re in a fragile mental state right now. But your physical wellbeing is in danger as well. I need to keep you safe. Even from yourself.”

Blood continued to seep through Stan’s bandages. He had to get Stan to stop moving. He got on the bed moved in on his brother with the chemical-soaked rag in hand.

Ford was trembling as much as his brother now. He looked into Stan’s eyes. No trace of his brother’s strength or love could be found. All that remained was fear and mistrust. And what he had to do now would only push Stan further. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

Ford put Stan into a headlock and put the chloroform over his mouth. He tried to thrash out of Ford’s grip but simply didn’t have the strength to do so. Ford listened in agony at the muffled whines right by his ear silently begging for mercy. “Shh, shh, shh, I know. I know, Stan. I know.”

Ford pressed his cheek against Stan’s. Both of them were wet with tears. “Shh… Stan, please, just…just close your eyes. You’ll be asleep soon. Stop moving and close your eyes.”

After several long agonizing minutes, his brother’s feeble struggles were subsiding. “There you go. You’re gonna go to sleep now. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything while you sleep.”

Finally, Stan moved no more. Ford took the chloroform off his mouth. He gently laid his brother down and worked quickly to stop the bleeding of the wounds Stan had opened.

He furiously scrubbed his eyes, trying to concentrate on his work. But he couldn’t stop crying. Because he knew he’ll never be able to fix this.

He may have saved his brother’s life, but he has still lost him for good.

Chapter Text

Ford had his hands folded over his mouth contemplating what to do next. Stan would be waking up soon. And he will most likely freak out again and potentially hurt himself.

There was only one thing he could do. Something even worse than the chloroforming.

He went down to his lab and rummaged through some equipment before he found what he was looking for.

A couple years ago, he and Fiddleford came across a Manotaur that was gravely wounded and would be dead within days if he didn’t receive proper medical care. He refused their help, saying he would just “walk it off like a man (even though he could barely walk to begin with).” Neither he nor Fiddleford wanted to watch the creature die, so they hatched a plan to capture and neutralize him so they could perform emergency surgery.

Since they knew he would not be a cooperative patient, Ford went to the nearest mental institution and bought bed restraints to subdue the creature. The same kind they use to restrain their own patients.

He brought them upstairs to Stan’s bedroom.

He stared sadly at his brother, thinking about how red and swollen his wrists were from the chains he had been imprisoned in. The restraints he had were softer and more comfortable, but it didn’t change the fact that he was making his brother a prisoner once more.

With a heavy heart, Ford began the process of tying Stan down to the bed. He tied the hand and foot restraints to the metal frame. Then, he tied the hand restraints a little above Stan’s wrist not wanting to aggravate the inflammation. Finally, he secured the last two restraints around Stan’s ankles.

Just in time too, because the chloroform was wearing off. As Stan regained consciousness, he realized he was tied down and began to pull against the restraints.

“Stanley, don’t…it’s okay.”

Stan’s struggling became more frantic upon noticing Ford. The cries coming from Stan didn’t even sound human. It reminded Ford of the time when they were kids and their neighbor’s dog was hit by a car and could hear her wailing in pain as she was dying on the street.

“Stanley, stop, please.” Ford reached for his brother. Stan clamped his eyes shut bracing himself for what he thought would be Ford about to strike him. Ford immediately lowered his hand but Stan kept whimpering still expecting pain to come.

Stan was laying completely still now. But from the tremors and tension in his body, Ford knew he wasn’t relaxed. Stan had reached a new stage in captivity and torture: learned helplessness.

He read about Seligman’s experiment on conditioning dogs. He would give them electric shocks to see what lengths they’ll go to avoid an unpleasant situation. After a while, even when presented with the option to escape, the dogs did not even try. They just laid down and accepted their shocks having already been conditioned that they were helpless to avoid them.

His brother, who’s stubbornness used to drive Ford up the wall, was now akin to a battered puppy who simply laid still and accepted his punishment.

Even though him lying still will be better for his recovery, it still devastated Ford that his brother had been reduced to this.

“Stanley…” Ford didn’t bring his voice above a whisper. He doubted he could if he tried. “I’m sorry I had to tie you down. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Stan still refused to look at him.

“It’s not forever. When you’re strong enough, you can leave. You…you never have to see me again.” Ford knew their relationship, the one he carelessly tossed away for so many years, would never recover from this. The best he could do for Stan was let him go and hope he finds peace somewhere far away from him. “But until then, you must rest and let me take care of you.”

The comforter was bunched up under Stan’s feet from all his kicking. Ford went to grab it, which startled Stan.

“Stan, it’s okay. I’m just grabbing the covers for you. I just want you to be comfortable. Is that okay?” Ford attempted a reassuring smile in a feeble hope Stan might talk to him. But Stan said nothing. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. He slowly pulled the comforter over Stan, tucking it above his shoulders.

Tears poured out of Stan’s eyes. Ford used his thumbs to wipe them away. Stan predictably flinched when he did, but he couldn’t leave his brother’s tears to fall without any comfort. So, he wiped away each and every solitary tear that came down his face.

“Shh, it’s okay. Rest, brother. No one will hurt you now.”

Ford brushed his hand across Stan’s face trying to get him to close his eyes. Stan, still afraid to sleep, kept reopening his eyes after each caress. Ford shushed his frightened brother.

Finally, Stan couldn’t fight it anymore as his weak body gave in to much-needed sleep.

Chapter Text

“Bill Cipher…” Ford pointed the sketch he made of the aforementioned demon. “The portal you fell through sent you to him. He captured and tortured you pretending to me.”

Stan simply stared at the ceiling with a blank expression. For days, Ford explained over and over again about Bill Cipher, trying to convince him that Bill was really the one that hurt Stan. Stan never gave any reaction to anything Ford said. He couldn’t tell what Stan was thinking, if he believed him, or if he was even comprehending what he was saying at all.

Ford slumped his shoulders and sighed. He glared at the sketch of Bill in his hands before folding it and putting it away. It wasn’t enough for Bill to torture his brother nearly to death. He had to do it using his likeness and add that extra level of cruelty for both of them.

He gently stroked Stan’s face and hair. He did soft, affectionate gestures like this often, trying to recondition Stan to associate Ford’s touch with gentleness and love.

Stan would close his eyes whenever he did this. Because of his brother’s stoic demeanor, Ford never knew if it was because he felt relaxed or afraid. Ford had a sinking feeling it was the latter.

He gave Stan one more gentle pat on his cheek before getting up from the chair and going to leave the room. He lingered in the doorway a moment and turned around to give a sad glance at his catatonic brother.

He went to the kitchen to check on the beef stew he was making for Stan. Ford was never much of a cook before moving to Gravity Falls, but living in the middle of the woods meant he didn’t have easy access to take out like he did in his college days. So, he had to learn to cook by necessity. His dishes were never as good as his mother’s used to be, but it was at least edible.

He grabbed a spoonful of the stew and tasted it. He found the stew he made tasted quite good. He put a lot of effort into this meal. Stan barely ate as it was, so he wanted the food to be as appetizing as possible.

He poured a bowlful of the stew and brought it to Stan’s room.

“Hi, Stanley. Look what I have for you. It’s beef stew: your favorite.” Ford held out the steaming bowl and gave a nervous smile. Once again, Stan didn’t even look.

Ford took a deep inhale and tried not to let his smile drop as laid the bowl on the floor next to his crossbow and sat down in the chair. “It’s not as good as Mom’s, but I think you’ll like it.”

Ford untied Stan’s wrists so he could sit up and eat. Stan didn’t freak out anymore. Though him being practically comatose wasn’t much better. “Alright, let’s sit up so you can eat, okay?” Ford put his hand behind Stan’s back and helped him into a sitting position.

Ford picked up the bowl of stew. He grabbed a spoonful and blew on it to cool it down. “Be careful. It’s hot.” He brought the spoon to Stan’s lips. He opened his mouth a slit to let Ford squirm the spoon past his lips into his mouth.

Ford was able to feed his brother for a few minutes until he stopped opening his mouth to eat. The stew wasn’t even halfway done. “Stanley, please, you’re not eating enough. You need more.” His brother’s lack of appetite concerned Ford. How would Stan recover his strength if he was underfed?

Stan stared sadly at his feet. Ford had kept Stan’s ankles tied just in case. But Stan had been calm these days. Did Stan really need to be restrained anymore? He was trying to regain Stan’s trust with little progress. Surely releasing him as a gesture of good faith would help, right? “Stanley, you’ve been so good, resting and letting your wounds heal. I don’t think you need these restraints anymore. How about we take them off?”

To Ford’s complete and utter shock, Stan finally gave a response: he nodded!

Ford was so excited about his brother finally answering him (albeit, nonverbally. But Ford wasn’t complaining), that he nearly spilled the hot bowl. He set the bowl down before he accidentally spilled it on himself.

“Alright! Alright, Stan! No more restraints!” Ford made quick work of the restraints around Stan’s ankles. He happily tossed them away like confetti at a birthday party.

“Since you’ve been so good, I don’t think we’ll need those anymore.” Ford hoped with everything in him that he was right because he wasn’t sure he could handle having to put his brother in those things again.

“Oh, Stan, I’m so happy to see you out of those things,” Ford said as he picked the hot bowl back up hoping he could now get Stan to eat more. “You’ve come so far. I’m so proud of you.”

Ford was in for another shock: Stan looked at him!

The look he was giving Ford was one of confusion, innocent and wide-eyed. Ford cupped his face worried he had upset Stan in some way. “What is it, Stanley? What’s wrong?”

But the tender gesture backfired. It left him holding the bowl with one hand. Too focused on his brother to pay attention, the bowl slipped out of grip and the hot stew spilled all over Stan. He screamed in pain.

“Oh my god! Stanley, I’m so sorry.” Ford tried to reach and rectify the damage he had caused, but Stan backed away from him and began hyperventilating. “No, Stanley, I’m sorry! It was an accident!”

But Stan was hearing none of it. He pushed Ford down to the floor and got up from the bed. After looking around for a moment, Stan spotted the crossbow. He picked it up and pointed it directly at Ford.

“Stanley…” Ford held his hand out trying to placate his brother. “Stanley, don’t do anything rash.”

But something inside Stan had clearly snapped. He was looking at Ford with pure, animalistic rage.

“Stanley…please, don’t…” Ford stared up in terror at the crossbow being aimed at his head. “I’m sorry for all I’ve done. Don’t kill me, please.”

Stan glared at his brother, still breathing heavily.

“Stanley, I don’t blame you for wanting to pull that trigger, not one little bit. I know I messed up. What I’ve done is unforgivable. But…but…” Ford could offer no reason why Stan should spare him. Truthfully, Stan had every right to take his life after all Ford put him through. “Stanley, please, I’m begging you…”

But it didn’t mean Ford wanted to die. It didn’t stop him from crying in fear as he stared death in the face.

Ford shut his eyes and turned his head away as he braced himself for death. A loud bang made him flinch. But no arrow pierced his body. He opened his eyes to see Stan had dropped the crossbow and fallen to his knees.

Stan hung his head so low that Ford couldn’t even see Stan’s tears until they dripped off his face. Ford’s near-death experience was forgotten. All that mattered was that his brother was sad and needed comfort. He crawled over to Stan and put his hand on his shoulder.

At this, Stan spoke for the first time in days: “I’m sorry.”

Ford’s lips trembled. “Don’t you dare apologize to me. Don’t you dare.”

“I was so confused.” Stan’s voice was soft and weak from disuse. “First, you hurt me. Then, you helped me. You put that thing on my mouth and you tied me down…but then you fed me and touched my face…you let me go…you burned me again…my mind is all messed up. I don’t understand. I don’t know what to believe. I don’t…” Stan put his hands over his face and cried harder.

“Stanley…” Ford tried to keep his voice steady. “Will you look at me, please?”

Ford put his hands over Stan’s and gently took them away from his face. The brothers’ identical brown eyes finally met for the first time. “Please believe me when I tell you that I didn’t hurt you. I could never hurt you.”

“B…Bill Cipher did…right?”

Ford couldn’t believe it. Stan had been listening to him all this time. “Yes…yes, that’s right!”

“He…he was pretending to be you. But it wasn’t you, was it?”

“No, Stanley, of course not.”

Stan looked Ford in the eye to determine if he was telling the truth. He remembered the eyes of the Ford that tortured him: the malice, the hatred, the sadism. None of that could be found in his brother’s eyes now.

This was Ford. This was his brother.

Slowly, Stan rested his head under Ford’s chin silently asking permission to be held. Ford didn’t wait even a second before wrapping his arms around Stan and holding him close. Ford’s chest became soaked with Stan’s tears as Stan’s shoulder became soaked with Ford’s. They were quiet save for Stan’s sobbing and Ford shushing him as he rocked him back and forth to sooth him.

Finally, Stan broke the silence. “Do I have to go?”

“Sorry?”

“Before…you told me…when I got better…I could leave…I…I don’t wanna leave.” Stan buried his face into Ford’s chest causing his words to become muffled. But Ford understood what he said next perfectly. “Can I stay here with you?”

For the first time in god knows how long, Ford laughed. He looked down at his brother, still curled against his chest. “Nothing would make me happier.”

And there it was: Stan’s smile. A smile he hadn’t seen in ten years and feared he would never see again.

Ford kissed his brother’s forehead before whispering in his ear. “I swear on my life, no one will ever hurt you again.”