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Chapter Text

Research notes of Dr. P. Allensen
Date: June 21, 1971
Time: 12:45 pm

Observation of Subject continues. Subject is male, approximately fifteen to sixteen years of age, 5 ft 9 in height. Subject presents with six fingers on each
hand. Opportunity to study polydactylism in humans. Are all fingers functional? Do they have full range of motion? Hereditary or genetic anomaly? Anomaly is more likely, considering Subject’s twin has the more “normal” five fingers. Further study is impossible at this time without acquisition of Subject. Acquisition could prove problematic, as Subject is often in the company of the aforementioned twin. Although, this could present a unique opportunity to study the reputed connection between twins. Can one feel the other’s pain, duress, etc.? Future consideration of Twin as a second Subject is a possibility, although I may be getting ahead of myself. I need to focus on Subject #1 at this time. An opportunity for acquisition will present itself. I am nothing, if not patient.

Allensen was trying to remember how many days he had come here and sat in his car outside the old pawn shop, when the sound of a bell startled him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see a teenage boy walk out the shop he was currently parked in front of. The boy was tall and broad shouldered, wearing jeans and a Rolling Stones t-shirt, with a black gym bag slung across his shoulder. Allensen noted to himself that the boy would one day be a handsome man, but right now, he sported the round baby face and acne scars of adolescence. The boy turned to the still open door of the shop.

“Come on, Ford! I’ve seen dead snails move faster!”

“I’m coming! It’s not like the boat’s going anywhere without us! It doesn’t have a rudder yet!”

“I’ve got practice at two! We ain’t got that much time and I thought you wanted to get the decking in place today!”

Allensen smiled when another boy stepped out of the shop. This one was his Subject. Lithe, where as his brother was built like an athlete, with curly hair, and brown eyes behind black rimmed glasses. As discreetly as possible, Allensen picked up his camera and snapped a few pictures, as the boys walked to a red car parked on the street. Disappointed when he saw his Subject shove those beautiful hands in the pockets of the jeans he wore. The Twin threw the gym bag in the backseat before he got in the car. After waiting for his brother to put on his seatbelt, the car pulled away from the curb. Allensen fell in behind them. He tried to keep a few cars back. He didn’t want the boys getting suspicious or spooked.

After about an hour, they arrived at the less-than-impressive beach, that had given the small town its name. The boys practically leapt out of the car and, after retrieving a tool box from the trunk, walked to the derelict shape of what may have once been a boat docked at the end of a short pier. He stepped out of his car, closing the door behind him as softly as possible, with his camera in hand.

He snapped a few pictures of the sun glinting on the water and the birds, as not to appear suspicious in any way. He moved the camera over to where the boys worked on the boat, pretending to take pictures of the rock formations near by. When he was satisfied, he climbed back into his car, picked up his notebook and made a few more notes on the page, before backing the car out of the parking area. He had waited a long time to find the perfect Subject, a few more days wouldn’t hurt.

Stanford Pines looked over his shoulder at the barely existent parking area. The car that he had been almost sure was following them was still there, a tall dark haired man stood near it, taking pictures of the beach. His twin, Stanley, noticed his brother’s inattention, and looked up from the deck boards he was nailing down.

“You okay over there?” he asked, his deep brown eyes flooding his concern. It was a hot day for mid-June, and he didn’t want his brother having a heat stroke, or something. “Need to move to some shade?”

“Huh? Oh, no. I was- um, just looking around.”
Stan rolled his eyes, “Jeez. You’re a rotten liar.”

“It’s probably nothing.”

Stan glanced in the direction his twin was looking, seeing the strange man as he climbed back into his car and left. “It’s just some guy taking pictures. Nice car, though,” he said, eyeing the blue and white Chevy Nomad station wagon. “Looks like a ‘58.”

Ford gave a non-committal hum, and went back to placing the deck boards. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this stranger, was looking right at him, for some reason. He was used to people staring, due to his unusual birth deformity, but this was different. It felt almost like the man was studying him.

In his distraction, he barely managed to move his hand before Stan swung the hammer down. Ford squawked and fell backwards, catching himself on his elbows.

“Shit, Sixer! I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

Stan was at his side in a second, holding out his hand to help him up.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“I didn’t hit you, did I?”

“No.”

“That fellow’s got you real upset, huh?”

Ford sighed. He could never understand how, but his twin had always been very perceptive. Not only to his moods, but the moods of other people. It was like the larger boy didn’t like to see anyone around him without a smile.

“No, that’s not it. It’s just, oh, I don’t know.”

“And you’re still a rotten liar.” Stan laughed and slung his arm around the slimmer boy’s shoulders. “Come on. We need to get going anyway.”

“And just what do you suggest I do, while I’m waiting for you?”

“Well, I may have put a few of your nerd books, and your sketch pad in my bag. I figured you could work some on the science project you’ve been going on about. Are you ever gonna tell me what it is?”

“I’m still researching the probability of it even working, so no. Not yet anyway.”

“Eh. No big." He shrugged. "I probably wouldn’t get it anyway. Science ain’t my best subject.”

“Neither is English, apparently.” He grinned good naturedly, so his brother would know he was joking. It bothered him when Stan put himself down like that, though.

“I can leave you here, you know.” Stan stared at his brother over the white convertible top of the car, returning his grin.

“You wouldn’t. Because then, you’d have to answer to Mom.”

A brief look of panic crossed Stan’s eyes. “I’d rather go three rounds with Bossi than explain to her why I made you walk home. Get in.”

Ford laughed as he slid into the car. “You could take him down in one round.”

“Glad you’re on my side.”

“I’m always in your corner. You know that.”

Ford relaxed into the vinyl seat as Stan backed the car out of the parking area, and headed back into town, unaware of the Chevy Nomad that followed them.

Chapter Text

Research notes of Dr. P. Allensen
Date: June 23, 1971
Time: 4:00 pm

My patience has paid off. After following Subject for the past three weeks, I have memorized his daily routine. On Thursdays, he spends his time at a local library, while his Twin is in boxing practice. I have looked up more information on my Subject via local newspapers. He has won numerous science awards, and appears to have a genius level IQ. Perhaps after my research is completed, I can convince him to carry on my work? Again, I seem to be getting ahead of myself. Today, I will finally acquire my perfect Subject. I have sent my “assistant” (and I use that title loosely), ahead to prepare. I have everything in place. At last, I am ready to begin.

Ford sat on the steps outside the library, open book in his lap, waiting for Stan to be finished with boxing practice. He had said something about stopping for milkshakes at the diner before heading home, which in Stan's language meant ‘flirt with the cute new waitress’. He smiled to himself at the thought of Stan's dreadful ‘flirting’, but reminded himself that he wouldn't be able to do much better.

He sighed and was about the return his attention to the book in his lap, when he heard what sounded like soft sobbing to his right. He looked over the railing to see a little girl sitting on the sidewalk, leaning against the side of the building. She didn’t look much older then 12, with long brown hair. Her amber colored eyes were wide,, and filled with soft tears,, as she cried.

“Hey,” he said gently, hoping to get her attention. “Are you alright?”

She sniffled, “No. My brother and I got separated, and I can't find him! We were supposed to stay together. My dad's gonna be so mad.”

He put the book in his warn leather satchel, and stood up. “I’ll help you look for him. Where's the last place you saw him?”

She practically jumped to her feet, and brushed off the blue dress she was wearing. Ford tried not to stare at the fact that, she also wore what looked, like blue tipped, iridescent, costume butterfly wings. She took his hand and led him into the alley, next to the building. She stopped near the dumpster.

“He was over here, looking at something. I turned around to try to get a cat to come to me, and when I turned back around, he was gone!”

“It's okay. I’m sure we'll find him.”

He crouched down in front of her, reached into the back pocket of his pants, and pulled out his handkerchief. He smiled as he gently wiped her eyes. She seemed a little taken back by his gesture of kindness. He stood up as she sniffled again.

“You're so nice. I just want to say I’m sorry.”

Before he could respond, a hand clamped over his mouth. He struggled when he felt the pinch of a needle in his neck. Something quickly flooded his system, and he slumped back against the person holding him.

Before he fell unconscious, he saw a little boy, run out from behind the dumpster. and hug the no-longer-crying girl, in an attempt to comfort her. He looked almost exactly like her. Two thoughts entered Ford’s head, simultaneously, as his eyelids closed. ‘I was tricked.’ and ‘they’re twins…’

He felt himself being dragged through the alleyway, before everything went completely black.

Stan approached the steps of the library, about twenty minutes later. Stan looked around, and, upon finding the steps to be empty, scowled. He had had an intense feeling of foreboding and dread, since he was at practice. He decided that, even though he was probably being paranoid because of what Ford had said, to cut out on his milkshake-date, and come straight here. Unfortunately practice had ran a little late, so he was still late arriving. His feeling of dread had intensified when he saw the steps abandoned.

He shook his head, as he tried to scare away the meddlesome thoughts that were going places they shouldn’t. “He’s… probably just inside!” He thought out loud, in an attempt to reassure himself. “...Yeah! That was it. He’s probably just waiting inside.” After all, Glass Shard Beach seemed to be experiencing it's annual heat wave, and waiting inside the cool of the building, made more sense than sweating outside. Yep. Perfect sense, Stan thought, as he bounded up the steps to the library.

He stepped inside, but instead of his brother, he saw the librarian's assistant, Beth. She looked up at him and smiled.

“Hey, Stan. If you're lookin’ for your brother, he left about thirty minutes ago.”

“Uhh, thanks.” Stan replied.

That couldn’t be right, Stan thought as he walked back out. Why would Ford leave without him, or at least, telling him?
He walked back outside and wiped the sweat off his forehead. It served as a reminder of the heat. “That's it!” he exclaimed, feeling like the idiot everyone thought he was.(like he knew he was). “He went on home.” Feeling slightly better, he practically jumped off the library steps. 

Somethingcaught his eye, on the ground next to stairs. Catching the light and almost blinding him. It turned out to be a few weird, iridescent flakes. Scales? If they were snake scales they didn't belong to any snake he knew of from around here. He decided it was probably nothing, and, choosing to ignore the weird, possible snake scales, continued on his walk home. As he passed the alley, something near the dumpster caught his eye. The feeling of dread came back as he approached the object on the ground. It was Ford's leather satchel. Shining on the ground next to it, were more of the weird, shimmering white scales.
Why would Ford’s satchel be here, of all places? he thought. Ford loved that old thing. It, along with the boxing gloves in Stan's gym bag, had been one of the last birthday gifts they received from their grandfather, before he passed away. 

He picked it up, to brush the dirt off of it, when he saw writing scrawled in the dirt. In a shaky, hurried script were the words; 'He’s okay. For now’.
Stan felt slightly nauseous. This can't be happening!

He threw the satchel around his shoulders, and took off at a sprint that would make his boxing coach proud. He didn't stop until he reached the door of his dad's pawn shop.

Chapter Text

Research notes of Dr. P. Allensen
Date: June 24, 1971
Time: 8:32 am

My assistant performed admirably, and acquisition of Subject was successful. That naïve boy never even suspected my trap. I must admit to an uncharacteristic thrill, as I held him against me, and pushed that needle into his flesh. To know at that moment, I held his very life in my hands? And when unconscious, to have him completely at my mercy? I suspect it must be akin to the feeling of a spider, looking at a trapped insect. Watching it struggle, only to become further entangled.
The effects of the rohypnol will be wearing off shortly. I'll send one of my assistants to fetch him so we can talk. Perhaps I can take advantage of his trusting nature, and he will help me willingly? That would make things much easier.
I am currently reviewing the subject’s medical record, as I wait for him to awaken. I can now confirm that subject is 16 years of age and will turn 17 on July 15, born 15 minutes before his twin. That reminds me, I have sent Assistant 1: Boy, to spy on said twin, and give him clues, in a test of intelligence. He probably would not make a very worthy second Subject, if he is complete idiot. Besides, if he is able to find me on his own, then he’s practically asking for me to make him my second Subject.

Ford groaned as he came to. He blinked his eyes a few times, as he tried to make the room he was in come into focus. He briefly panicked when everything remained blurry, but then realized he wasn't wearing his glasses. He noticed a small table next to the bed he was laying on. On top of it, folded neatly, were his glasses. 

He quickly put them on, and looked around the room. It reminded him of the guest room at his grandmother's old house; white walls, bed, dresser, generic wall art, curtains that matched the comforter.

He sat up and felt his stomach protest the action, as his vision became blurred again. He groaned and laid back down. He glanced at the bedside table again, this time seeing a glass of water, and two aspirin. A note beside them read, 'This will help with the dizziness and nausea. My assistant will come to get you soon. We'll talk then’. It wasn't signed, but he suspected it was left by whomever had abducted him. That left him confused. Why would someone who had taken him, be considerate of his comfort? In every book and movie, victims were kept locked up. And who would want to kidnap him, anyway? It wasn't as if their family had money, he and Stanley were….oh, God! Stanley! Had he been taken as well?!

He was pulled out of his near panic attack, by a knock at the door. It was so faint, almost timid, that he almost didn't hear it. He was surprised when it opened, to reveal the same little girl from the alley.

“If you'll follow me, my father wants to see you.”

Her voice was soft, as if she were afraid to speak above a whisper. He wanted to be distrustful of her admittedly, after all, it was her fault he was here, but something seemed so off about her, that made him want to help her still. He decided it was all the more reason not to trust her. If she was hiding something, that meant she knew more than she was letting on, and Ford knew to never trust someone like that.

“Sure, just give me a minute.” he was still feeling dizzy and wanted a moment to both compose himself and take the offered pills. If they wanted him dead, he’d be dead already, and it didn’t make sense to drug him now, if they wanted to see and talk to him, so he decided to believe they were just aspirin. He downed them quickly and stood up, noticing for the first time, he was barefoot. He looked at himself in the mirror above the dresser. He was wearing what looked like blue surgeon's scrubs. He turned to the girl.

“Where are my clothes?”

She fidgeted with her hands before answering. “Y-you,” she winced at her own stutter. “had a reaction to the drug, that was used to knock you out, and threw up. They're in the wash.”

Ford nodded quietly, thinking. Yes that made sense. Ford choose to ignore the reminder that he had been drugged, and abducted. The scrubs is a little weird through. Then again… everything about this has been weird.

He followed the girl out of the room, and down a hallway. He was surprised to see that the girl was wearing the same blue dress as before, (which was the same color blue as his scrubs.) and even still wearing the same costume butterfly wings. Odd.

The hall had dark wood floors, and a long carpet runner down the length of it. From his glances into the open rooms on either side, the home appeared to be comfortably furnished. This just keeps getting stranger. He thought to himself. Who have I been abducted by, the Cleavers? She stopped in front of an open door, at the end of the hall, and knocked on the frame.
A man sitting behind a large, oak desk looked up, at first seemingly annoyed by the interruption, but smiled warmly when he saw Ford, standing behind the girl.

“Ah. I was wondering when you'd wake up. Come in, please. Have a seat.” He made eye contact with the girl. “Thank you, dear. That'll be all. Close the door on your way out.”

Ford cautiously entered the room, and sat down in one of the leather chairs facing the desk. The man stood, and walked around it to stand in front of him. He was tall, maybe just over six feet, with neatly trimmed black hair, and dark eyes that seemed to look through, you rather than at you. Like they were looking at how your atoms were constructed. He was casually dressed in khaki pants, with a black, collared polo shirt.

“You're the man from the beach. The one that I thought was following us.”

“I am. How very perceptive of you.” He smiled brightly. “It's nice to finally meet you,” he said, extending his hand. “I apologise for the rather….dramatic means of getting your attention. But I felt talking with you was very important.”

Ford rubbed the spot on his neck where the needle had entered. “A phone call wasn't an option?”

“Haha, no I’m afraid not.” He smiled good naturedly, like Ford had made a joke. He retracted his hand, and leaned against the desk. “Allow me to cut directly to the point. My name is Doctor Phillip Allensen, I’m a researcher in the field of anomalous phenomena.” 

He gestured to the set of shelves on his right. On them sat a collection of strange taxidermied animals, which included: a snake with two heads, a fish with legs, and something that looked like a frilled salamander.

Ford subconsciously hid his hands behind his back, at the mention of the anomalies. Allensen noticed the boy's discomfort, and continued in a reassuring voice.

“You misunderstand. My goal is to explain why these creatures exist. As well as what they can do. Wouldn't you like to know more about yourself? Why was it only you, to be born this way, and not your brother as well? I, personally, think your hands are quite impressive, and beautiful. I would even go, as far as to say, your hands may be the next step, in our genetic evolutionary line!”

Ford pulled his hands from behind his back at stared at them. The next step in the evolutionary line? “Forgive my skepticism, but I don't see how an extra finger is good for anything.” He dropped his hands into his lap and looked down. “Except for attracting the negative attention of bullies.”

“No, you are mistaken!” Allensen leaned forward and put a hand on Ford's shoulder. “That's part of the reason I wanted to speak with you. I was hoping you would help me with my research. Starting, with those amazing hands of yours.”

Ford looked up from his hands and made eye contact with Allensen. “What would I have to do?”

“Well, there will be a few blood tests to determine genetic markers. Then I’d like to do tests for things like manual dexterity, range of motion, flexibility, as well as asking you a few questions about them. Nothing too invasive.”

Ford considered the offer. Would learning more about what had caused his polydactyly be a bad thing? He always had wanted to understand the stranger things of life. Especially about his hands. The tests didn't seem so bad, and the chance to study this fully would be an opportunity of a lifetime. He could finally do something useful with his time. Not mention this would give him a chance to .... breathe. Stanley had been so clingy lately. He had hardly had a moment to himself in months. He took a deep breath and extended his hand. “All right. I’ll help you.”

Allensen smiled and shook Ford's hand. “Welcome to the team, Stanford.”

He never stopped to wonder, how Allensen knew his name.

Chapter Text

Research notes of Dr. P. Allensen

Date: June 24, 1971

Time: 5:41 pm

It was easier than I thought, to get my Subject to agree, willingly, to testing. A little flattery, and the boy melted like hot butter, and never questioned the fact I had taken him against his will. Testing will begin tomorrow morning. In the meantime, he is able to roam the house, and has access to my extensive library. The fool thinks himself a guest rather than my prisoner. 

My assistant, Boy, returned this afternoon, and told me he successfully planted the first clues for Subject's twin, to follow, including one at the sight of acquisition, to make sure we had his attention. This wasn't part of the plan, but I can't say I’m disappointed. I must admit, it was rather quick thinking on Boy's part. Perhaps I’ve underestimated him. I will talk more with my young assistant in the morning, for now, I need to make sure everything is ready to begin, in the morning.

After bursting into the, thankfully empty, pawn shop yesterday, Stan spent thirty minutes in his father's office trying to calm down enough to tell him what had happened. When he finally managed it, Filbrick sent him upstairs to tell their mother, to find one of Ford's most recent pictures, while he phoned the police to report the kidnapping.

Now, he sat in his, and Ford's shared bedroom, attempting to do something, other than worry himself to death. Unfortunately, the police so far, were no help. They said they couldn’t do anything without proper proof that it was, indeed, a kidnapping. When they arrived where Stan had seen the note, it was gone. Only the scales were left, and they refused to count them as evidence. So now, they were saying they couldn’t do anything, until Ford was gone twenty-four hours. Ford could be dead in twenty-four hours!! They said their best bet, was to wait by the phone, in case the kidnapper called, to make demands. So here they were, their parents by the phones, and Stan in his room. 

Stan stood and resumed the pacing he'd been doing earlier, a thousand scenarios running through his head; If he'd been on time, if he'd insisted Ford come to practice with him, if Ford had stayed home…. 

His frustration was starting to get the best of him . He needed to punch something. He grabbed his gym bag and slung it over his shoulder. A few rounds with the heavy bag should help, he thought. He turned, walked out his room, and started heading towards the front door. The gym was probably locked, but he didn’t care. His coach had given him a copy of the key, a few years ago, after he won his first tournament. He said that Stan could come by anytime, and practice. His mother stopped him when he got to the living room.

“Where are you going?”

“Gym. Gotta work off some stuff. Not doin’ anything standing round here anyway.”

“Please don't. What if these people are after you, too? I couldn't take worrying ‘bout both my babies.” 

Stan hugged her, “Don’t worry ‘bout me, Ma. I ain’t exactly an easy target. Besides, why they’d want me?” he stepped back and smiled at her with a smile only slightly forced. “Knowing the nerd, he probably got himself snatched by the CIA or something.” 

His mother sighed. “I wish I'd taught Ford the code word.”

“I know Ma. You never thought he’d need it.” 

She sighed again, “Just be careful.”

“I will.”

She reluctantly let him go and he walked out to his car. Normally, he'd walk there, but he felt like driving would make him less of a target, right now. He opened the door and noticed an envelope under the driver's side windshield wiper. What's this? Another parking ticket? This was legal parking so no, that couldn’t be it.

He pulled the envelope out and opened it. He felt his stomach drop to his feet, when he saw the picture inside. It was Ford, out cold, with his arms tied behind his back. He looked to be laying in the backseat of a car. Scrawled across the back of the photo was, “Save him. Think you can? Go back to where this began.”

What the heck does that mean!? ‘Back to where this began?’ Where was he supposed to go?! He groaned and lightly hit his car's steering wheel. Thinking was Ford's game, not his. Ford would probably already know the answer. Come on, Stan. You can do this. You have to do this. It's gotta be connected to Sixer getting snatched. So it's gotta mean either the alley, where he got snatched, or the boat, where that weird photographer, started putting Ford on edge. The boat happened first, but Stan had no way of knowing, if the guy holding Ford knew that. If only I’d listened to him back then…. Instead he’d blown it off. Like he always does, when Ford freaks out about something. He treated it like it was no big deal, instead of listening to Ford. Now Sixer was gone, and it was all his fault!

This ain't helping, he thought to himself. Pull yourself together. For all you know, he's locked up somewhere, waiting on you to save him. He decided to try the alley first. 

A few minutes later, he stood in front of the dumpster, where he had found Ford's satchel. Taped to the dumpster, was another envelope. It was too dark in the alley to read much of anything, so Stan decided to open it in his car, under the street lamp. But before he started heading out into the open, he bent down and bushed some of the scales on the ground into the previous envelope. The police might not think much of them but Stan was sure they were connected to this. The scales were catching the light so much, they were practically glowing. I bet Sixer would have loved to study these! No! He would love to study these. I can't start thinking like that. In fact, after all of this is over, I’ll give them to him as gift, and apology for taking so long, and he’ll love ‘em! After all the Poindexter is fine! He has to be. 

With renewed determination, Stan walked quickly, to his El Diablo. Once back in the driver's seat, he carefully opened the envelope. At first, it seemed empty, until he saw a small piece of paper folded in the corner. It looked like a store receipt of some kind. Written on the back were a series of numbers, almost like a code.

What the heck is this!? he thought. Why are they making this so hard! He vaguely remembered Ford, going through a code breaker phase, when they were younger. He'd even bought a few books about it. Maybe they were still on his bookshelf. He tucked the envelope in the back pocket of his jeans, and pulled a, very likely illegal, U-turn back toward the shop. He had to figure this out and soon! Ford was counting on him.

Chapter Text

Ford woke the next morning to a knock on his door. “Come in.” he called, as he sat up and stretched. 

The door was opened to reveal a young boy, the same one he had seen hugging the girl from the alley. Ford could now see, the boy was a little on the scrawny side, with brown hair, like his sister’s, though his was less curly, and was worn much shorter. He was dressed in periwinkle blue, doctor scrubs, that seemed like a miniature version, of Ford’s own. He was holding a tray with eggs, toast, apple slices, and a cup of water.

“The doctor said I should bring you breakfast, before you get started today.”

“The doctor? You mean your father?” 

The boy just shrugged. “He also thought you'd like to shower, so I brought you some clean clothes.” He set the tray on the table, and the clothes, more surgeon’s scrubs, on the bed next to Ford.

“I thought my regular clothes would be clean by now?” “

These are more comfortable.” 

Ford nodded, and poked the eggs with a fork. He wasn't much of a breakfast person, he usually just had toast or juice. The boy turned to leave, when Ford heard what sounded like the boy’s stomach growl.

“Are you hungry?”

“A little.”

Ford picked up the apple slices, and held them out to the boy. “I don't really like apples that much. You can have these if you want them.”

The boy eyed him suspiciously, then took the slices. “Maple was right. You are nice.”

“Maple?”

“It's what I call my sister. She has a serious sweet tooth. She got ahold of a bottle of syrup when we were about seven.” The boy smiled at the memory, as he sat cross-legged on the floor. “She drank about half of it before I found her. She declared it delicious, and had it all over her face. I started calling her Maple after that.” 

Fordlaughed. “Does she have a nickname for you?”

“Sure does. She calls me-”

“What are you doing in here, Son?”

The boy gasped, paled slightly, and jumped to his feet. He turned to see Allensen standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “Nnn-nothing. I was just-. He-,” the boy stammered, as he fought to find words.

“He looked a little hungry, so I let him have my apple slices. I don't really like them anyway, and I didn't want them to go to waste.”

“That's very kind of you, Stanford. Unnecessary, but kind.” He turned his attention back to the boy. “I believe you have other chores to tend to?” 

His voice was soft, as one would expect of anyone, dealing with young children, but it was Allensen's eyes, that sent a chill down Ford's spine. The man's dark eyes were cold, and completely empty of emotion. It was almost like looking into the eyes of a shark. They demanded absolute obedience.

The boy edged past Allensen, and sprinted down the hall. Allensen watched him go, then turned his attention back to Ford. “After you've finished and showered, please join me in my office. I trust you remember where it is?” 

Ford nodded. "Yes."

“Excellent! Just knock, and wait for me to give you permission to enter. I know it may sound strange, but that's the one rule I have in this house, that I insist be followed. I value my privacy.”

“I understand.” 

Allensen smiled warmly, although the smile still didn't touch his eyes. They remained cold and emotionless. It unnerved Ford just a little. “Good. I’ll see you soon, then.” 

The man turned and continued down the hall, dress shoes clicking against the polished wood. Ford put the rest of his breakfast aside, not feeling very hungry anymore. 

He picked up the new set of scrubs, and carried them with him to the bathroom, that was connected to his room. It was about as guestroom-generic as the bedroom was: white walls, black-and-white checkered tile floor, tub/shower combo with a patterned curtain, pedestal sink, and a toilet. A medicine cabinet behind the mirror held shampoo, soap, toothpaste, toothbrush, shaving cream, and a razor. 

Fordstood in the shower, trying to get the image of Allensen's shark eyes, out of his head. Had they been that cold yesterday? He honestly couldn't remember. Whether it was from shock, or the drugs, he couldn't be sure. 

After a quick shower and shave, he walked down the hall to Allensen's office, and knocked on the door. He heard papers rustling, and a drawer open and close, before hearing Allensen say to come in. He pushed open the door, to find Allensen standing in front of his desk. He was dressed similar to the day before, tan dress pants, and a collared polo shirt. The only difference was the white lab coat, he now wore.

“Right on time. Please, have a seat. And close the door behind you.” Ford did so and sat down in the offered leather chair. Allensen turned to face him. “Since it's our first day, I thought we'd start rather simply. I’d like to ask some questions first, then draw some blood."

He picked up a clipboard and pen from his desk. “Which is your dominant arm? And do you have less dexterity in the fingers of your non dominant arm?”

“Actually both my brother and I are Ambidextrous.”

“Really? That’s quite intriguing. So, am I to presume, that your fingers on both hands, are fully functioning and have full dexterity?”

“Yes, that’s correct. See?" To demonstrate, Ford wiggled all twelve fingers. Allensen quickly made a note of that on the chart.

“Well, that’s all I wanted to know, today. We will draw the blood now, and I think that'll be all for today. Do your prefer your left or right arm?”

“Um, left.”

“Very well. Place your arm on the armrest, palm up.”

He did so, as Allensen tied a tourniquet around Ford's upper arm. He flexed his fist a few times, to make the veins in his elbow stand out. The needle Allensen held slipped in easily, but Ford still gasped, the memory of the alley, too fresh in his mind.

“It'll be over soon,” Allensen said, placing a hand on Ford's shoulder, while watching the boy's blood flow into the vial. His words were reassuring, but, like his eyes, his voice contained no emotion.

Chapter Text

Research notes of Dr. P. Allensen

Date: June 26, 1971

Time: 11:52 am

First day of testing went smoothly. I acquired some of Subject's blood, and I am currently testing it for the genetic markers for his polydactyly. I wonder if his twin is also a carrier for these markers? If so, adding both DNA sequences would greatly increase the likelihood of a positive outcome for my final project. In reference to the twin, he seems to be performing well on the clues he's being given. He figured out the riddle quite quickly. I currently have the pictures, that will be his next clue, developing in my dark room. He will not be as easy to convince to become a second Subject, as my current one was. I need to call a few of my old contacts, and see if I can obtain something that would make him more…compliant. Tomorrow's testing will be a bit more intensive for my Subject, as I plan to note his pain response. 

Stan felt like he was going out of his mind! Not only did he hardly get any sleep last night, but he was sure he kept catching glimpses, of something white, and silvery as he drove home. He also couldn’t shake the feeling the feeling of being watched. This whole thing was driving him mad with worry, and paranoia. 

When he’d finally gotten home, the first thing he did was read it again, in the light of his bedroom. The receipt, the puzzle was written on the back of, was for a small convenience store on the next block. He was pretty familiar with it, having stopped there for sodas a few times.

He walked over to the bookshelf to find the book he was looking for. I’ll never make fun of you for putting these in alphabetical order again Sixer, he’d thought as he pulled the book out. He remembered this one. They had gotten it as children, so they could send ‘secret messages’ to each other, ‘like 007 does'. He’d flipped through the pages, ‘til he found a puzzle that looked similar to the one on the paper. ‘Substitution Cipher. Usually a simple swap, by matching letters of the alphabet, to the corresponding number.’ Huh. That sounds easy enough.

'9-20 19-5-5-13-19 15-21-18 12-9-20-20-12-5 7-1-13-5 9-19 4-5-22-5-12-15-16-9-14-7 18-1-20-8-5-18 17-21-9-3-11-12-25. 25-15-21-18 14-5-24-20 3-12-21-5 9-14 12-5-19-19 20-8-1-14 1 4-1-25. 2-5 1-20 20-8-9-19 1-4-4-18-5-19-19 1-20 15-14-5 16-13 20-15-13-15-18-18-15-23, 15-18 25-15-21-18 2-18-15-20-8-5-18 23-9-12-12 8-1-22-5 8-5-12-12 20-15 16-1-25.'

It felt like it took forever, to decode it by hand, but it really only took most of the night. He’d fallen into a restless sleep, not long after decoding it. After of course, he had raged so hard at the paper, for toying with him and his brother, he’d almost ripped it up! The nerve! What kinda sick jerk treats peoples lives like they were games! Like this was just a form of entertainment! People like that make me sick! 

Hehad considered taking the note straight to the cops, and demanding to know if it was enough proof of a kidnapping. With no ransom call, the police had listed Ford as a possible runaway. Even his dad’s 'less-than-legal’ contacts had turned up nothing. He decided against it, ‘cause they said they would confiscate anything that might be connected, and he couldn’t afford to lose that note. They said once the full, twenty-four hours had passed, they’d file a missing persons report, and send out a fax to other districts, with Ford’s photo and profile, and would have officers keep watch at all train and bus depots. The hardest part, had been overcoming the urge to tell his parents what was going on, especially when he heard his mom sobbing quietly in the living room, with his dad trying to comfort her.

“I got a few of my old crew lookin’ for him, too,” he'd said. “If he's still anywhere in Jersey, they'll find him.” Stan hoped he was right. 

Anyonewho knew Stanley Pines, would laugh if they could see him right now. 'Mr. Late-for-Everything’ was actually wearing a watch, one he seemed to be constantly checking, as he stood near the front window of the convenience store. He had arrived fifteen minutes before one o’clock, hoping to catch the person who would drop off the 'clue’ and get some information out of them. 

And if getting that information just happened to involve a left hook or two, well, he wasn't complaining. He’d actually prefer it, truth be told. Stanley had never been the best at waiting, or keeping his emotions in check. If someone or something was bothering him or Ford, he’d start swinging. So now, with nothing to punch, he had all this nervous energy about him, with nothing to do with it.

At five til one, a little boy approached the door of the store. His eyes seemed to be everywhere at once, as if he were looking for someone. Poor kid. He looks like he could jump out of his skin at any moment, Stan thought. That's when he noticed the envelope in the kid's hand. He stepped out of the store.

“I think you might be lookin’ for me, kid.”

The boy started slightly. “Y-you weren't supposed to be here!”

“Look kid, just tell me where my brother is. Okay? I just want him home.”

“I can't. I was just told to leave this.”

He handed Stan the envelope, and turned and sprinted away, like a scared deer. Stan sighed, and looked down at the envelope. No point in going after a kid. He probably didn’t know anything anyway. He opened the envelope to find a series of pictures inside: a stone angel’s wing, a wrought iron fence, part of a tombstone, and a garden spade. On the back of the first one was another number code: 

'15-14-5 15-6 20-8-5-19-5 9-19 6-1-12-19-5. 15-14-5 9-19 20-18-21-5. 1-14-15-20-8-5-18 9-19 23-8-5-18-5 25-15-21'12-12 6-9-14-4 20-8-5 14-5-24-20 3-12-21-5.’

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting tired of this cryptic crap. Did the people who kidnapped his brother really think this was all a game? And what was this leading to? It felt almost like…. It's a test, he realized. His mother's words came back to him, “What if these people are after you, too?”

“That's a chance I’m gonna havta take, Ma,” he mumbled to himself. He’d pass any test they threw at him, if it meant getting Ford back.

He walked back into the store, and bought a Peach Cola and a bag of Toffee Peanuts. No sense trying to figure this out on an empty stomach. He got back in his car, pulled the first picture out of the envelope, and fumbled around in the glove compartment for a pen. Now that he knew the key, this puzzle was easier to decode. Terrific, he thought ruefully. A guessing game. 

He spread the pictures out on his lap. The fence he recognized from the old houses in the 'nice’ part of town, from when the beach had been a vacation place for people, who dressed like the Monopoly guy. The angel wing and tombstone? A church, maybe? 

The spade was the one throwing him off. Was it the meaningless one? He looked at the angel picture. There was something in the background. A church sign! Better than that, one he recognized. It was an old Catholic church in that nicer part of town. He threw the unopened drink and peanut bag into the passenger seat, and put the car in gear. Hang on just a little longer, Ford. I’m gonna find you. And bring you back.

Chapter Text

Ford laid on his stomach on a couch in the library, a copy of Darwin's 'Origin of Species’ open in front of him. He'd always wanted to read this book, but the head librarian was a religious woman, and had refused to carry it. 

He looked up when the door opened, to see Maple walk in. She held a feather duster and a bottle of furniture polish.

“Oh! I didn't think anyone would be in here!”

He smiled. “That's alright. I was just taking your father up on his offer of using the library while I was here. Besides, I was getting a bit lonely anyway. It’s good to formally meet you, Maple.”

A huge grin broke across her face. He noticed for the first time, she had dimples. “You know my name? You must've talked to Dipper!”

“Dipper?”

“That's what I call my brother.”

“He told me how you got your nickname. How did he get his?”

“Next time you see him, ask him to show you his forehead.” Her wings fanned slowly behind her. Ford was reminded of a feeding butterfly.

“Do you wear those all the time?” 

She cocked her head to the side, confused. “Wear what?”

“The wings,” he said gesturing slightly to the wings on her back.

“Well,” she looked down, her smile suddenly gone. If Ford didn’t know better, he’d have said her wings tensed. “I don't really have a choice. They're kind of attached to me. I was born with them.”

Ford's eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Amazing!”

She looked up again, the smile from before, ghosting at her lips. “You don't think I’m a freak?”

“Maple, I’m the last person who would judge someone a 'freak’.”

He held up his hands and wiggled all twelve fingers. She rushed over for a closer look.

“Cool! You're like one of those cats with extra toes.”

“A Hemingway?”

“Yeah! Those! I’ve always wanted a cat, but Father won't let me have one. He's not really an animal person.”

“What about your mom?”

The smile faded again. “She died having Dip and me.” She sounded like she was reciting something. Curious. Her wings were stiff again. She must just not like talking about it, he decided. He couldn’t blame her. He decided to change the subject back to their previous discussion.

“So, are you able to use your wings at all?”

“Uh huh!” She smiled brightly. “I can move them a bunch! They usually move with my emotions.” Her wings were fluttering softly, behind her, as she spoke, to emphasize her point. Suddenly her wings dropped a little as her smile fell. “I can’t fly though.”

“You can’t? Why not?” Ford inquired, mildly concerned.

“They’re too small. Father said they won’t ever be strong enough to get any lift.”

“Well,” Ford paused, trying to think of what to say to cheer her up. “Have you ever tried?” 

Mapleher shook her head, staring at him.

“Maple, if science has taught me anything,” Ford began with a light smile. “Is that you never know what you’re capable of, until you try!”

“Well, I do love trying new things!” She a devilish smile spread across her face, as she moved to one of the shelves, where she started squirting the furniture polish. “This isn’t bothering you is it?”

“No, Maple. It’s fine,” Ford said easily, as he turned back to his book.

“You shouldn’t call me that when Father’s around,” she said, almost absently, as she continued to clean.

“What?” He asked startled, sitting up and turning to face her. “Why?” 

Sheshrug. “Father wouldn’t approve of it. So it’s best not to use our names in front of him.” 

Ford frowned. That seemed a bit harsh. “What does he call you then?”

“Girl.”

“Girl?”

“Dipper’s Boy.”

“He doesn’t call you by your names?”

“Oh, uh,” Maple faltered. “He says we haven’t earned names yet.” 

She was clearly uncomfortable with the topic, her wings were at aquakward angles as she stumbled over her sentences. “But it’s okay, cause there’s only two of us, so what’s the point, right? Hehe,” she laughed awkwardly.

“Of course it matters!” Ford shouted as he stood up, outraged. “You’re both unique individuals and you deserve your own identities, that belong to you and you alone! You shouldn’t be treated like one person or two halves of a whole! You should be respected for the person you are!” 

Ford was out of breath and panting hard, by the time he finished his rant. He looked back at Maple. She was stunned and speechless and she stared at him, wide eyed in surprise. She blinked at him, taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor.

“Are you …” she seemed to be struggling to gather thought, once more. “Going to be okay?” 

Ford took a moment longer to breath and compose himself. “Yes. Yes, I’ll be fine. I’m sorry for my sudden outburst, but I’ll be fine.”

As he slumped back down onto the couch, Maple climbed up next to him and put her arms around his neck.

“You know what you need?” she asked with a grin. “Cookie therapy!”

Chapter Text

Stan pulled into the parking lot of Our Lady of the Sea, Catholic Church. He had always felt a little uncomfortable around places like this, but he shrugged it off. Ford's counting on you! 

He walked to the cemetery next to the church, and immediately saw the angel from the picture. He jogged over to it and found an envelope hidden in the rose bushes, at it's pedestal. Inside was a full picture of the tombstone. Luckily, the cemetery wasn't very large, so it didn't take him very long to find it. It was near the back and appeared to be one of the older graves. The dirt near the stone, looked like someone had dug there recently. 

Guess I do the same, he thought as he dropped to his knees and moved the loose dirt. About a foot down, was a paper bag with an envelope, and a key taped to it. He recognized it as a copy of the gym key, he currently had on his key ring. Coach said his keys went missing about a month ago, but he found ‘em the next day. How long have these people been planning this? The thought made him slightly sick to his stomach. 

He opened the bag, and tossed it quickly to the ground and threw up. Inside was the shirt Ford had been wearing the day he disappeared. It was splattered with blood. Ford’s blood! 

What did they do to you Sixer?! He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, and inspected the shirt. No tears or anything that looks like a stab wound. If they've hurt him, they're in for it!

As much as he wanted to tear open the envelope, just to have something to take his anger out on, he forced himself to open it carefully. Inside was a greeting card, worse, a sympathy card. Oh no! Am I already too late?

He opened the card to find the printed message scrawled out, and a new one written on the opposite side in neat, precise handwriting. It was another Goddamn code!. He groaned, Great. More of this crap! He turned back to the shirt on the ground. Maybe he could find out more about Ford’s condition. He’d already concluded that it didn’t come from a cut or stab wound. The blood was soaking in, not out, so it came from the outside of the shirt, not the inside. Didn’t look right for throw up splatter. It almost looked like blood was poured over it. 

Maybe it’s not even Sixer’s blood! He felt a small spark of hope rise in his chest, that he struggled to force down. He might be okay but I don’t know that! And if anything does happen, it will be all my fault!! Because I failed to be there. What am I good for if I can’t proctec- No. Can’t think like that. If he thought like that he’d spiral into despair, and then he really would be no good to Ford. Taking another slow breath, Stan picked up everything carefully, and and walked slowly back to his car.

“He's okay.” Stan turned around quickly to see the same little boy, from the convenience store.

“What?”

“Your brother. He's not hurt. That is his blood, but….” His voice trailed off, as if he was suddenly afraid to speak.

“Kid, please. If you know anything, tell me.”

The boy looked him in the eye, and gulped before continuing. “He’s not hurt. The doctor just poured his blood on the shirt to scare you. It wasn’t supposed to make you throw up…” he mumbled the last part, looking sheepish.

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when your literally worried sick about someone,” he replied, with false gruffness, to hide his relief.

“I- uh- brought you some water,” the boy held out a small paper cup. “You’re supposed to drink water after throwing up.”

Stan eyed the boy and the cup, suspiciously. He looked very awkward standing there, as he held the cup nervously. The kid looked harmless enough, but then again, so did some of the younger kids he helped coach, at the gym sometimes. Some of those kids could easily take out an adult if they tried, so he wouldn’t put it past the boy. Plus he seemed to know an awful lot about the people(or person) that took Ford.

“I shouldn't be telling you any of this, but, your brother seems like a nice guy and I don't want to see him get hurt for real. I also don’t like seeing you hurt because of this, cause you care about him. I understand if you don’t want to trust me,” he sounded sheepish and a bit guilty but also… resigned?

Stan took the water. If this kid was trying to stall him, something would've happened by now. He doubted the kid would try to poison him, didn’t seem the type. Plus, why put him through all this just to kill him? Unless this was to knock him out, but again, what was the point?

“Thanks, kid.” Stan took a swig of the water, that he just realized he desperately needed.

The boy smiled slightly, showing a small dimple in his left cheek. Stan sighed and knelt down to look the boy in the eye. “Look, kid,” Stan started, exasperated. “What’s your name?”

“Oh! Uh, my sister calls me Dipper.” He seemed taken aback by the sudden question.

“Look, Dipper,” Stan sighed again. “What are you doing mixed up in all of this?”

“The doctor, I guess you could call him my father,” he spit out the word, as if it left a rotten taste in his mouth. “He made me. He’ll hurt my sister if I don't.” His voice cracked into a squeak in the last sentence. 

Stan barely contained his shock. What kind of father does something like that? Sure, his own father could be a hard man, but he'd never threaten one of his sons with hurting the other one. Granted, sometimes Stan feared he would, but he never actually did. His disbelief must have shown, because the boy suddenly looked down, as if embarrassed by what he'd said. Pity, sadness and concern filled Stan’s eyes as he looked at the boy.

“I’m sorry you have to go through that. You’re a good, well meaning kid, that doesn’t deserve to be mixed up with all of this. I hope you and your sister end up okay.”

When Stan slowly pulled Dipper forward and hugged him, the boy froze, unsure of what to do. But soon he melted into the embrace and hugged Stan back, as tight as he could.

“The boat.”

Stan pulled back, confused. “What?”

“That's where the next clue is.” 

With that, Dipper turned, and ran away before Stan could react to what he’d just said. Stan sighed and stood up. Today, was turning into a very long day, and with everything going on, his mom would be more worried than usual. He should head back. Stan looked down at the paper cup still in his hand, before turning back to his car.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean he saw you!?” 

Ford looked up from the book he was reading, when he heard Allensen's voice, yelling from the hallway outside.

“I d-d-didn't mean to! He was already there when I got there!” a young male voice stammered. He recognized it as the boy from earlier.

“I don't want to hear your excuses, Boy! Get out of my sight before I do something you'll regret!”

He heard the sound of running footsteps retreating down the hall, before the now familiar click of Allensen's dress shoes. 

Who talks to children that way? Ford thought to himself as he set his book down. It was the same book as earlier, but he had made some good head way on it.

He had been spending the rest of the day by himself, since Maple finished his ‘cookie therapy’, which entailed her and Ford making her special sugar cookies, that had four types of sugar - how she was able to acquire four different types of sugar, in a house that didn't seem to own any, was beyond Ford - and then having the both of them gorge themselves on the treats, before Maple had to return to her chores. He stood and walked to the door, opening it to a surprised Allensen, who had his hand on the doorknob.

“Stanford. I see you're making good on my offer, of using the library. I trust you are finding it satisfactory?”

“Very much so.”

“Something on your mind?”

“Well, I know it may be none of my business, but is it really necessary to talk to your children like that?”

Allensen blinked at him for a moment, as if he couldn’t figure out what Ford meant before bursting into laughter.

“Oh, that. Don’t you worry about a thing. They are both perfectly well cared for, and will be perfectly fine. I just lost my temper a bit. Nothing to worry about. They both know don’t mean what I say in my fits of anger. They have both learned to take things at face value. You needn’t concern yourself.”

“...I suppose… you’re right,” Ford replied hesitantly. It really was none of his business, and his own father was known to yell when angered but… Ford couldn’t help looking down the hall where he had heard the footsteps retreat. It just felt like something was wrong and concerning here, that Ford couldn’t distrust. Maybe he was just imagining it, but it seemed almost like Allensen wanted him to drop it with no real reason.

“Now, it's close to dinnertime and you must be hungry.”

“Maple and I made cookies not too long ago, so no-.” He stopped when he realized he had used the girl's nickname. A brief flash of anger clouded Allensen's dark eyes, but it was gone as soon as it appeared.

“It's nice to see you're bonding a bit with the children. Due to their, 'differences’, they don't have many friends.” 

Or the fact you seem to keep them cooped up here, Ford thought. “They're good kids.”

“Yes. If you'll excuse me, there's a research journal I need to pick up in here. You should return to your room. I’ll have my girl bring you a light dinner.” Ford was about to object, but something in Allensen's eyes left no room for argument.

After Ford walked back to his room, Allensen slammed the door the the library.

“Dammit!”

That had been close. The boy was more observant than he had originally thought. He would have to be more cautious, if he didn’t want him catching on yet.

“Damn that Girl!” He cursed again. She was ruining everything. Like always. Picking a name on top of everything! The nerve! As if that failure deserves a name. He'd have to remind her who was in charge. At least the twin is doing well on the tests.

He's more clever than I originally thought. I may have to move my plans forward ahead of schedule.

He moved to a bookshelf that was nearly full with scientific journals, medical publications, and copies of research papers.

“Lets see. Where did I last see that? Ah, here it is!” He pulled out a research paper titled, ‘Electroshock Therapy and its Effects on the Human Body.’ He grinned down at it. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.

Chapter Text

Research notes of Dr. P. Allensen

Date: June 26, 1971

Time: 7:21 am

I experienced what could have been a significant setback in my research yesterday. It would appear my Subject is getting a bit too friendly with my assistants. I need to find a way to remedy this and remind those brats who is in charge. Today's testing will include Subject's response to pain stimuli, I plan to start with simple pricks and continue up to electrical stimulation. Perhaps, I can include a lesson on why my assistants are not to be associated with. 

Stan was out early the next morning. He had left a note, saying he was going for a run to the beach. It wasn't entirely a lie, he did plan to run there, if anything, to work off all the nervous energy he'd built up over the past three days. The sun was just breaking over the horizon when he got to the beach. He stopped to catch his breath for a moment, before jogging over to where the Stan O’ War was docked. Even though it had only been days, it felt like years since he'd last saw her. 

He climbed onto the deck, earning him an indignant squawk from the seagull, that had apparently taken up residence on the roof of the cabin. That clue is here somewhere, he thought, as he went below deck. Unless Dipper lied to me, but Stan doubted it. He decided to trust the kid. 

After a minute or two, he found another envelope, next to some tools they had forgotten last time he and Ford were there. He opened the envelope and briefly read the riddle, which, thankfully, was not written in any codes. 

'Success is near, the Key is in your hand. Hidden in a Safe Place is your next clue.'

Okay, Stan, think. What’s a safe place? He immediately thought of the boat, but he was on the boat so that couldn’t be it. ‘The Key is in you hand’... they had given him the key to the gym, and a safe place there would be the lockers! 

The next clue must be in my locker! He ran off the boat and back toward town, earning another squawk from the seagull.

“Enjoy it while you can, ya stupid bird!”

Ford was already awake, when the quiet knock came at his door. He hadn't slept much last night, too worried about what might happen to Maple, now that Allensen knew about her nickname.

“Come in,” he said as he yawned. The door opened slowly to show Maple, her head down and her hair hanging over her face.

“I brought your breakfast.”

“Thank you very much, Maple. Would you like to share it with me and we can talk a bit?” 

She sniffled. “I can't. I’ll get in trouble again.”

Ford's heart sank to know he had caused this. “I’m so sorry, Maple. I didn't mean to tell him.”

“It's okay. Dip or I would've screwed up eventually. One of us always does.”

Ford got out of bed and crossed the room to where the girl stood. He knelt down and hugged her. “Please, never say that about yourself or your brother again.” 

She sniffled again and looked at him with tear stained eyes. The first thing he saw was the large bruise covering her cheek. He gently put his hand under her chin and turned her head to get a better look.

“Did he do this?” His voice shook with barely contained anger.

She bit her lip before slowly nodding.“ After I got back.” 

He blinked rapidly, as he felt tears sting his eyes. “I am so sorry.” 

"You should get ready. My father isn't a patient man and he says he has a lot to get done today.” She turned and quickly ran out of the room, her wings nearly dragging on the floor. 

Ford sighed as he stood up. Allensen was definitely getting a piece of his mind before they got started today. 

When Ford knocked on the door of Allensen's office, he didn't wait for permission to come in. Allensen looked up from the papers he was organizing.

“What did I say about waiting to come in?!” He yelled as he stood, glaring Ford down.

“I know, but this is important. Why do you feel it's okay to abuse your children? What did Maple do that would warrant that treatment?”

Allensen looked almost bemused by what Ford had just said. “First off, you have no right to judge how I handle my household. Secondly, a slap hardly counts as abuse. Finally, the girl did several things that warranted punishment.”

“Like what?!” Ford demanded. “Being too friendly!?”

“Going against direct orders, misuse of supplies, using the kitchen without permission, slacking on chores, I could go on.”

“So, basically, she's guilty of being twelve?”

“Well considering she’s not actually twelve, I would say that is a fair crime.”

“‘Not actually twelve?’ What is that supposed to mean!?”

“That is none of your concern, Stanford!”

“Fine!” Ford shouted as he stormed out of the room. 

Allensen slumped back into his chair, after Ford slammed the door, with a sigh. He knew he needed to let the boy cool down, but this would put him behind schedule. He had so much planned for today, and now it would have to be put on hold because of a temper-tantrum.

He briefly considered slipping him something to calm him down, but decided against it. Any drugs in his system could interfere with any results the tests would produce. 

Perhaps this would finally give him chance to call up his old associates, in regards to the other twin. He was solving clues fast, so he would need them in order to contain him when he arrived. He would also have to acquire another drug for knocking him out, in case he had the same allergy his brother had. He reached for the phone on his desk, the only phone in the whole house, and quickly dialed a number.

“Joey? It's Phillip. About that favor you owe me? I’m calling it in.”

Chapter Text

The rational side of Ford's brain knew he shouldn't be doing this, but after the events of that morning, he had to know more about Dr. Allensen. And, if he was caught, he could always say he wanted a closer look at those odd taxidermies.

He was still a short distance away from the office door when it opened and Allensen stepped out. He turned to Maple who was standing next to him.

“I want that spotless by the time I’m done, understand?”

“Yes Father,” she mumbled.

The man proceeded to walk to the back of the house, looking strangely happy. A person would never guess of the argument that had occurred, only hours earlier. Ford pressed himself against the wall, trying not to be seen. After the man was gone, Maple walked away, presumably, to get cleaning supplies. Ford continued.

He turned the knob on the door, glad to find that Allensen didn’t lock it, so Maple could clean the room. He still used caution as he approached the desk. He noticed the binder sitting there. The paper glued to the front was what really caught his attention.

' Genetic Mutations and Their Relationship to Human Evolution’

What the hell? Ford wondered as he picked up the binder and thumbed through the handwritten notes. With each page, he felt himself growing more and more nauseous. Allensen had been heavily involved in IVF research, until it was found out he was trying to induce genetic mutations in the embryos to 'bring about the next stage of human evolution’. He had even worked at the hospital where he and Stanley had been born.

Has he been stalking us that long? No. That couldn't be right. If that were the case, why wait til now? Why not try to take us at a younger age? He continued to flip through the notes, but soon turning to another folder that caught his eye.

‘ Research data for Test: 234 Zeta’

    Opening it, he was surprised to find various news paper articles, along with the research notes. He began skimming through both. ‘ Astounding scientist proposes the theory of immortality.’ … ‘ slowing aging considerably ’ ... ‘ Dr. Phillip Allensen discovers missing link in the medical field to faster healing! ’ ... ‘ Allensen suggests melding DNA of other animals on to humans’ … ‘ the cowards are refusing to let me go forward, I’ll have to do it on my own. ’ ... ‘ Crackpot scientist creates theory of the creation of new life ’ … ‘ t hey think me a fool but they don’t know how close I am. Soon I’ll create the next form in human evolution. ’ ....

    Ford stopped when he got to the next article clipping. On the front was a black and white picture of Allensen standing in front of a strange machine. Allensen looked furious as he held two near identical babies. Above it was the headline, ‘Former scientist is ostracized for illegal human experiment resulting in two newborns.’ Slowly, Ford began to read through.

    Going against several boards, and human rights laws, Dr. Allensen built an illegal machine used to create life by fusing dna. Because of this Allensen’s Ph.D was revoked and was banned from the scientific community. When interviewed he said, “I was trying to find the next step in our evolution. To create the perfect human! You’re all just too cowardly to realize it! I was going to improve all of humanity!”

    State court decided that children would be confiscated for study, and Allensen would be placed under arrest. Before the court could act on their decision, Allensen disappeared along with the children and research data. If anyone has any news of the whereabouts of Philip Allensen they are to call the authorities immediately. This for their own safety.    

    In slow, numb realization, Ford turned to the research notes. Wait, what!? This was over eighteen years ago!

Test 234 Zeta, Creation of the Perfect Human results are as follows.

To create the perfect human, i melded several DNA sequences and formulas together. The child should have been born strong, healthy, with retractable wings, high mental prowess, advanced healing, rapid growth from the infant stage and then slow growth and aging from then on. It should have been male, with advance intelligence and learning skills

The result was less than satisfactory. The embryo split during the creation resulting in two children, a boy and a girl. They seem to have split the features but not in an acceptable way. The girl developed the wings, but they are far too small to allow flight, and are non-retractable. The boy was apparently permanently burned and scarred during the procedure resulting in what could be called a ‘birthmark’. The disfigurement is located on the forehead, and resembles the Big Dipper part of the constellation Ursa Major. The only appealing qualities about these two, is that the aging and rapid regeneration and healing seems to be in effect. A missing link may be the reason behind these results.

Conclusion: Test 234 Zeta, failure, but not unsuccessful.

Chapter Text

Ford stared down at the pages he’d just read. He couldn’t believe it. He could not believe any of it. Maple and Dipper were genetically engineered, modified, humans. Allensen created them over 18 years ago, meaning they were 2 years older than him. This was like something out of a science fiction novel, not real life!

His eyes drifted to a journal, lieing open on the desk, that he’d never seen before. With a couple glances, realized that this was Allensen’s latest research journal. He flipped to several entries ago and began reading. Though, he wondered how much more information about his ‘host’, he could stand learning.

‘Observation of Subject continues. Subject is male, approximately fifteen to sixteen’... Ford looked on, wide eyed as he read. The more he read, the more rage consumed him. He couldn’t believe it! It was all a lie! He had been deceived into thinking he was special, when in actuality, he was seen as no more than a guinea pig!  And not just him! He was messing with Stanley too! Stanford had never been more furious!

“What are you doing, Ford?”

At the sound of the quiet voice, Ford jumped slightly and dropped the Journal. Maple stood in the doorway, with the cleaning supplies, looking distraught and scared.

“I was just-” Ford attempted to explain..

“You shouldn’t be here!” she cried desperately as she ran to him. “You have to leave now, before he finds you!”

“Maple. Did you know about this?” Ford asked quietly.

“You weren’t supposed to ever find out! I’m so sorry! I wanted to tell you but he’d hurt Dipper if I didn’t!” she sobbed as she latched onto his shirt.

“So is it true? Are you two really-” he couldn’t bring himself to finish.

Maple scrunched her eyes shut, as she nodded and sobbed.

“ I can’t believe this! The nerve of the guy!” Ford shouted angry beyond words. “ Who does he think he is to treat us like this! To treat you like this! Like an interesting experiment, instead of people! And you’ve had to deal with this for- ” Ford cut himself off as something clicked in his mind. “For-- for over- eighteen years…”

“ No longer!! I’m going to give him a piece of my mind and then were leaving!” Ford shouted, as tried to make a move for the door, but was stopped by Maple, still clinging to him. It was then he noticed that her bruise was already quite faint.

“ NOOO! ” she screamed!! “You mustn't!! He’ll hurt you if you do! Me and Dipper can’t leave without being killed, but if you leave now, you can still get away! We’re not worth it.”

“I won’t leave without taking you and your brother with me, and if yelling at that man is the only thing that will let you leave with me, then so be it!” Ford said with such determination that Maple couldn’t help but whimper in response. She knew there was nothing that could convince him to leave them behind.

“At least wait until Dipper returns,” she sobbed. “Then we might be able to help you!”

Ford looked down at the crying girl, clinging to his shirt and he couldn’t help but relent. “Okay,” he said quietly, kneeling down to take her in his arms.

Stan stepped out of the gym, envelope in hand. It had been easy enough to retrieve it from the back of his locker. He was still a little weirded out that they knew his combination, but he’d let it slide, this time. Only to be confronted by the the feeling of being watched, as soon as he stepped out. Looking around he spotted the little boy from yesterday, hiding(or trying to) behind the dumpster, across the street. What was his name again? Dinner? Danny? Dipper? Dipper, yeah that was it. Dipper was clearly trying not to be seen, so Stan let it slide. He had to get home and read (and decode) this next clue. His Ma and Pa had initiated a curfew now, ‘to keep him safe ’, so he had to be getting home.

Ford spent the rest of the day both looking for a phone and waiting. He soon realized that communication to the outside had long, been cut off. All windows were barred, only one door, and the only phone in the house was in Allensen’s office. He really wished Maple hadn’t talked him out of leaving the office. Then he could have called home and asked for help. Maybe come up with a better plan then what he was about to do.

It was now night, Dipper had returned and was talking to Allensen in his office. Without even knocking this time, Ford through open the door and barged in.

“ What did I say about ASKING PERMISSION?! ” He shouted as soon as the door opened.

“ Is all of this true?! ” Ford shouted back! “Are Maple and Dipper really a product of your experiments?! ”

“Snooping into things that aren't your concern once again?” Allensen said as he rose from behind his desk, heading toward Ford. Neither noticed Dipper turning and running out the door.

“Not my concern?! I think it's very much my concern to find out I’m nothing more than a glorified lab rat!” He took a step forward to stand in front of Allensen. “In fact, it seems you think of all humans as lab rats. Like those poor women? Those treatments could've been their last chance to become mothers.”

“I only did what others were afraid to do! Evolution has stalled , Stanford! If anything, its moving backwards! I was merely giving it a push in the right direction!”

“You're insane.”

Pure rage clouded Allensen's eyes. Ford felt the blow, before he even saw Allensen pull his hand back. His head snapped to the side, as Allensen’s hand made contact. Ford was knocked off balance and fell, striking his head on the floor. White hot pain exploded through his skull, then his vision went dark.

Allensen stood over the unconscious teenager. “Look what you made me do!” he yelled, as he tried to get his breathing under control. “You little fool. You just couldn't keep your nose out of places it doesn't belong!”

He hefted the boy up, threw one arm around his shoulder, and dragged the boy back to his room. Brought by the yelling, Boy and Girl ran into the hallway. She gasped at the sight of Ford, limply hanging at Allensen's side. Boy looked on in stunned terror.

“What happened!?” Girl asked, deathly white.

“Nothing. He just had a little accident.”

He dumped the boy on his bed, slamming and locking the door as he left. He turned to both of his assistants before storming back to his office. “You so much as touch that door and I’ll disassemble the both of you. Understand?!”

Maple nodded, teary eyed. Dipper nodded too, still petrified. After Allensen slammed the door to his office, Maple looked at Dipper. They both nodded, having made their decision. They knew exactly what they had to do. They ran outside and toward town. Stan was there, They had to find him and tell him what had happened.

Allensen watched from his office window, as the winged girl ran off, in the direction of town. He knew exactly where she was going. A wicked smile touched his lips.

“Perfect.”

Chapter Text

Allensen needed to prepare for the twin’s arrival. He walked down the hall and unlocked the door of Stanford's room. The boy was still unconscious. Good.

He knelt down and pulled the restraints out from their hiding place, under the dust ruffle. Working quickly, he attached them to the boy’s wrists, pinning his arms at his sides. He'd just finished securing his ankles, when the boy groaned and opened his eyes.

What happened? Ford wondered as he tried to bring his hand up to his aching head. He snapped to full wakefulness when he realized he couldn't move his arm. He looked down to see himself restrained, like a mental patient. Allensen stood at the foot of the bed, buckling the last restraint in place.

“What's going on?! Why did you-?”

“Restrain you? It seems I’m expecting a new quest, and what kind of host would I be if I didn't offer him a gift?”

“Guest? What are you talking about?” Ford pulled against the restraints, trying to free himself, as Allensen approached him. He stopped when they were eye to eye, Allensen leaned down to whisper in Ford's ear.

“Your brother.”

Ford paled. “You leave him alone!”

“I’m afraid I can't do that. You see, I’ve been feeding him clues to your location, since I brought you here.” The man chuckled darkly, as if the whole situation were a joke. He pulled a roll of duct tape out of a pocket on his lab coat. “And since I can't have you warning him when he arrives,” He tore off a piece and stuck it over Ford's mouth.

“Now, if you'll excuse me. I have another guest room to prepare.”

With that, Allensen turned and left the room.

Pounding was heard from the front of the pawnshop. Stan walked down to the shop and opened the door. He was surprised to see the same boy from earlier.

“I’m starting to think you're following me, kid,” he said with a light chuckle.

“That's cause we were.”

Stan turned around to see a little girl, that looked almost exactly like the boy, standing right next to him. A little girl with wings… okay….

“You were what, now?”

The boy ignored him and started speaking. “We kind of ran away. We needed to find you.”

Her wings fluttered slightly. “Ford's in trouble!”

That got Stan's attention. “Whoa, kid! What do you mean Ford's in trouble?! You know where he is?”

The girl nodded. “Our father took him. He's a researcher. He and Ford had a fight, and I think he hit Ford. He was unconscious when we left.”

Stan saw red for a second, before he forced himself to calm down. “Okay. You two are taking me to my brother. Right now.”

His voice left no room for argument, so Dipper nodded. “Follow us.”

Stan noticed how tired the kids looked, like they’d run a long distance.

“Wait here. I’ll get my keys.”

Stan quickly ran inside and grabbed his car keys, before turning to his mother, who was by the phone for her hotline.

“Ma, I’m going out to find Ford. If I’m not back in two hours, call the police and have them look at everything in the bag, on our desk,” Stan stated, all in a rush, before turning and quickly running down the stairs, and out the pawnshop, ignoring his mother’s worried cries.

    He ran past the kids, straight toward the Stanley-mobile. He opened the back door of the car and quickly called, “Get in!” They both quickly hurried into the backseat. He was barely in the driver's seat, and buckled before starting the car. “Okay. Where are we going? And how do we get there fast? ” a quick glance in the mirror, confirmed that both of them had put their seat belt on too. (the girl, not being able to get the shoulder strap over her wings, had elected to sit in the middle and use the middle belt.)

Dipper spoke up, “The old vacation homes. You know where those are, right?”

    Stan nodded and quickly put the car in drive. Normally, the drive to that part of town would take about twenty minutes, Stan was sure he could make it in five. He really hoped he didn’t hurt the kids, but he couldn’t afford to slow down. None of this sat right with Stan, and his instincts were telling him he was heading toward danger, so it was probably a trap. But at that moment he didn’t care. They were being drowned out by his protective instincts. All that mattered, was getting Ford somewhere safe, and making sure he was okay. He had to be okay.

“Turn left here,” Dipper said suddenly, breaking Stan out of his thoughts. He saw the church from yesterday. He'd been so close and hadn't even realized! Stupid!

The girl must have noticed his expression change. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy.” Stan replied, curtly.

“It's the third one on the left, on this street,” Dipper supplied.

Stan pulled up in front of the house. It may have once been impressive, but time and the salt air had it showing its age. It looked worn down, with the paint gone, replaced by dirt and decay. The barred windows, making it look ominous. It was a rather large house though, and it loomed over them menacingly, from behind the closed gate. The same gate from the photo. Damnit!

Dipper got out of the car and pushed the gate open. It creaked like something from a horror movie. Stan and the girl( he really had to ask her her name ) quickly made a move to follow. Upon seeing something left on the seat, something dawned on Stan.

“ Oooh. The scales belong to you, don’t they?” Stan asked, incredulous of his own ignorance up to that point.

“They come off if they rub against something,” she nodded in reply.

“That doesn’t hurt or anything does it?” Stan asked nervous.

She gave him a funny look before replying, “No, it doesn’t. I don't even notice most of the time.”

Stan nodded and looked relieved, before turning his gaze up toward the house. “Alright, kiddos. Let's bring my brother home.”

Chapter Text

Stan followed the kids into the large foyer of the house.

“Where to now?”

“Upstairs. Second door on the right,” Dipper said, as they ran as quietly as possible.

Stan kept his guard up as they went. He was prepared for a fight at any moment. He kept expecting them to get caught, and the longer they weren’t, the more on edge he became. When they came to the door, Stan reached for the knob.

“It was locked when we left,” the boy's sister said quietly. When the knob turned easily, she added, “please, be careful.”

Stan pushed open the door. He froze in place when he saw his brother, restrained by thick leather cuffs.

“Sixer!” he shouted, instantly running into the room and to his brother’s side, without a second thought.

Ford was trying to say something, but his voice was muffled by the tape over his mouth. Stan pulled it off.

“He’s behind you!” Ford screamed. Stan turned, just in time to block the punch, that was aimed at the back of his head.

“So,” Stan said, shifting instinctively into a defensive stance. “You're the asshole that kidnapped my brother.”

The dark haired man smirked. “I must ask you to refrain from using such language in front of the children.”

Stan dodged another punch, but couldn't react in time to block the swift blow to his side. Normally, he would have quickly shaken it off, but he had bruised a few ribs on that side, after he had taken a bad hit during practice. Stan grunted in pain, before quickly sliding into a punch. It collided with with the creep’s sholder, throwing him off balance and forcing him to stagger back.

He looked quite shocked and, if Stan had to guess, impressed.

“Good hit,” he said. “No wonder you're a champion.”

Stan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Is this your idea of trash-talking? Gotta say, it’s pretty weak.”

“Not at all. I find praise much more distracting .” He feigned a punch to the left and when Stan went to block, the man hit his bruised ribs again.

Stan’s breath hitched from the blow, immediately retreating backwards and going into a defensive stance. Should have dodged, Stan cursed internally.

“It would seem I’ve -what's the phrase?- 'Got you on the ropes’?”

“Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that, jerk.”

The man nodded approvingly, before making a sudden move forward for a punch. He was so fast, that Stan almost didn’t see him move, but was able to duck under the fist just in time. Only for the guy to kick him right in the jaw.

“Stan!” Ford cried, from where he was still tied to the bed.

Stan clutched his jaw as he fell backwards. He managed to catch himself in crouch. The polo-shirted bastard made a move to go forward, for another blow, but was stalled by something, unable to move his foot forward. He looked toward the door to see Dipper there, clutching his head in concentration.

“You dirty little wretc-” Stan didn’t let him finish, before socking him in the jaw.

The man staggered back, and went to one knee. Stan took smug satisfaction, from the look of anger on his face. He stepped in front of the man. “Say goodnight, ya bastard.”

Stan landed a side blow to his skull, and was wielding back for another before he heard a harsh gasp from behind. A quick look over his shoulder confirmed, that Dipper had just collapsed. The scientist managed to land an uppercut to Stan’s stomach, while he was distracted. He moved to land another punch, aimed for Stan’s head. Stan already had a plan to counter it. He’d block, then move into a fierce left hook.

Before he landed the punch, the man flicked his wrist and impaled something into Stan’s arm. Stan looked down, to see a syringe embedded into his arm. Before he could respond, the scientist pushed the plunger down, filling Stan with the liquid inside. The man backed away as Stan staggered. He tried to fight off the sudden dizziness, as he felt every muscle in his body relax, before he collapsed to his knees, then fell backwards.

“Shi-,” Stan mumbled, as with vision filled with darkness from the edges. His head hurt, as he tried desperately to focus. As he was losing consciousness, he thought he heard Ford and the girl crying out for him.

“Sorry, Sixer," he managed to slur, before finally blacking out.

Allensen stood, rotating his bruised shoulder a few times. That kid hits like a truck. He stared down at him. With such language to boot.

He hefted the newly, unconscious teenager to his feet and looped his arm around his shoulder, staggering a bit under the boy's weight. Heavy as one,too.

He looked at Girl, who was kneeling next to her dazed brother. They both will have to be punished. I cannot believe that Boy wasted all his power on helping this idiot, when he must have known this would be inevitable.

“When I’m gone, untie the other one. Then you and your brother come to my office. Understand?!”

They nodded.

“Please. Let my brother go!” Ford yelled. “You don't need him! I’ll do anything you ask!”

Allensen turned his emotionless eyes, toward the boy. “You don't understand. He's already part of this. People say twins are special, connected. I intend to prove it.”

He smiled wickedly, as he dragged Stan's limp body, out of the room.

Chapter Text

Ford was trying his hardest to not have an anxiety induced, panic attack. Stan had just been captured by the psychopath who had captured him. He was also probably gonna be experimented on in various ways, that Ford would rather not dwell on. But that was no reason to hyperventilate and pass out, right? Right. So just stay calm and breath and don’t have a panic attack.

Everything would be fine, he told himself. No it wouldn’t! Who was he kidding everything was terrible and horrible and now he had Stan and Stan was going to be hurt and he was going to be hurt and-

A groan cut into his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. He looked to his side, to see Maple helping Dipper to sit up. He still looked out of it, but at least he looked somewhat conscious. That was an improvement from how he looked earlier.

    “Is he going to be alright?” he asked, still attempting to keep himself grounded.

“Yeah,” Maple said. “He'll have a headache and be a little loopy for a while, but he'll be fine. It always happens when he uses his power too much.”

    Ford was still having trouble processing what happened, so he asked, “His power?”

“He was created with it. Father called it 'tele-something. It means he can move things with his mind. He’s supposed to be able to do a lot more, but he’s not able to.”

“Telekinesis? Amazing!”

Dipper groaned. “Not when you feel like you're going to puke. Or like you’re going to have your skull split.”

“Oh,” Ford didn’t really know how to respond to that. He felt bad, knowing that the boy felt sick, but didn’t know what to do about it. “Do you do that often?”

“Not to that extent,” he managed.

“He does practice sometimes,” Maple interjected. “Moving small things around. He's never really done anything, like what he did today. He usually only does it once a day.”

“Never on a moving or living object before,” Dipper added weakly.

“I appreciate that you at least tried to help,” Ford offered. “Your ability and quick thinking was rather impressive.”

Dipper smiled at that, though faint. “Thanks.”

“Oh right!” Maple shouted suddenly running over to Ford. “He asked us to untie you.” As she began working on his restraints, she called back to Dipper, “You just try to rest up Dip-dop. If I go slow, I can buy you some recovery time.”

Dipper nodded in apperisation. True to her word, Maple worked slowly, but Ford felt no need to rush her. “Thanks,” he muttered once he was free. Maple nodded, before turning back to Dipper.

“Come on,” Maple said, helping him to his feet. “He'll be expecting us.”

Ford sat up. “You two can come back here, if you need to after he's…...finished.”

“We’ll probably get in more trouble if we do, but thank you.” Maple’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Ford watched them go, Maple holding on to her brother, as he leaned on her, as she helped him out of the room. Silently, wishing he could stop them from leaving, and just hold them close, like they deserved. After they had gone, he gave into the helplessness he was feeling, as he buried his face in his hands, and cried for the first time, since this ordeal began. He couldn’t do anything about any of this! He felt despair, begin to eat at him.

Chapter Text

Stan came to with a pounding headache, and a burning pain in his side. Ugh. Did I overdo it at practice again?

He opened his eyes slightly, expecting to see the familiar supports of the bunk bed he shared with his twin, but snapped them open fully when he saw only ceiling. Suddenly, everything that had happened clicked into place. Ford being kidnapped, following useless clues, the kids telling him where his brother was, finding him only … to be captured.

“Fu…” Stan groaned. Why would anyone go to so much trouble to snatch me? Ford I get. He's the smart one. But me? He threw his arm over his eyes. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

“If it isn't Raquel Welch, with aspirin and an ice pack, go away!”

The door opened and the little girl peeked in. “It's not whoever that is, but I do have aspirin and some water.”

Stan half growled half sighed. “That’ll do.” It was then that he finally looked down at himself, as he sat up. “WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES?!”

The girl winced backwards before speaking. “M-my father thought those would be more comfortable. And accessible for better testing.”

“What kinda guy steals a man’s clothes!?” Truth be told, Stan was more concerned with that than anything else, but he was able to catch that girl didn’t like his yelling, so this time it was quieter, though still outraged. Stan sighed as he rubbed his temples. His yelling hadn't done him any favors, either.

“Sorry about that, kid. You said you had aspirin?”

The girl nodded before stepping forward and showing her hands, that did contain a glass of water and presumably, aspirin. She walked over to him and offered both. Stan accepted them gratefully. “Thanks,” he muttered, before tossing the small pills back.

“I-it’s okay if you're mad at my brother and me.”

He swallowed a gulp of the water before replying. “I ain't mad. Why would I be mad? Confused, maybe. But not mad.”

“Confused?”

“Yeah. I mean, why all this? My family ain't rich, so it can't be about money. So why snatch me and Ford?”

The girl looked down at her feet and started fidgeting with her hands, her wings nearly touching the ground.

“What do you know, kid?”

“ I-I can't tell you! ” she yelled, nearly hysterical, as she ran out the door. Stan sat in stunned silence for a moment.

“ Ughh ,” he groaned again, as he floped back onto the bed. “Whadda go Stan.”

In the back of his mind, Stan felt a tingling sense of despair. For some reason, Stan could always tell when Ford was in trouble, or when the bullies got to be to much. He always knew exactly where to find him even if he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how he knew and never questioned it. Stan vaguely, wondered if this was that feeling, or if it was his own stupid emotions surfacing.

Either way, it’s a good reason to get out of here and find Ford , he decided. He started to stand up, but was immediately reminded of the pain in his side. Crud. Well, if they weren't cracked before, they are now, he thought, noticing for the first time how hard it was to draw a deep breath. That explains why I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack.

Chapter Text

Research notes of Dr. P. Allensen

Date: June 27, 1971

Time: 7:31 am

Both of the twins are now my Subjects. At last, I can move toward another goal, proving the alleged “twin connection” is real. If I can prove twins do, indeed, share a sort of telepathic link, this would be greatly beneficial in my research toward my Final Project. Today's testing will begin shortly. I plan to subject one twin to varying degrees of pain stimuli to see of the other can “sense” it, or experience similar feelings in the affected area. I’ve decided to start with the second twin, today.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but given the events of yesterday, Stan decided not to dwell on it. He got up and began his callisthenics routine. He was halfway through, when there was a knock at his door.

“Yeah?” he called, using the scrubs shirt to wipe the sweat off his face.

The door opened to reveal Dipper. He held a tray of food and an extra set of scrubs.

“The doctor told me to bring you something to eat and a change of clothes, in case you wanted a shower.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “What's Dr. Creepenstein got planned for us?”

Dipper smiled a bit at the nickname. “He doesn't tell Maple and me about his research. He says we wouldn't understand.”

“Maple? The little girl?”

“My sister, yeah.”

“Why do you two put up with a weirdo like that?” Stan took the tray, sat down on his bed, and looked at the runny eggs and overcooked sausage. It looked like the few times he and Ford had tried to make breakfast for their parents. Dipper sat down beside him.

“We don't have a choice.” The boy pulled the collar of his own scrub shirt aside to show a faded scar running down the center of his chest. “Maple's got one, too. It's a modified pacemaker. If we try to run, he will send a concentrated electric current straight to our hearts. Same if his heart stops.”

Stan's eyes widened. He was about to respond when Dipper stood. “I’ve got to go help him get set up. Maple will come get you in a little bit and bring you to, well, you know.”

After the kid ran out of the room, Stan finished his breakfast and went to the bathroom to shower. Great, he thought as he toweled his hair. Without my gel, my hair's gonna be as curly as Sixer's . He stared at the fluffy mess in the mirror, as if he could intimidate it into laying down. He combed it down as best he could, and was returning to the bedroom, when a small knock sounded at the door.

“Yeah?”

Maple pushed the door open. “Um.”

“Let me guess. Freak-o wants to see me?”

The girl nodded.

He followed her through the house, and down a back staircase to what might have once been, either servants’ quarters or some kind of cellar, but had been converted into a lab. The lights down here were brighter, causing Stan to squint slightly.

“Ah. Good morning, Stanley. I trust you slept well.”

He turned to see the dark haired, polo shirt wearing asshole from yesterday.  “Like you really care.”

The man laughed. “No. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dr. Phillip Allensen. Please, have a seat and we can get started.” He turned to the girl. “That will be all.” Maple practically ran up the stairs. Allensen gestured to a simple, straight-backed, wooden chair.

“Have a seat,” he repeated.

Stan crossed his arms. “I’m fine.”

“Did I say you had a choice in the matter?”

Before Stan could reply, Allensen grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him over to the chair, forcing him to sit down. It happened so unbelievably fast, that Stan was left blinking.

“That's better. Now, please place your arms on the armrests. Palms up.” He must have noticed Stan's hesitation, because a second later, the man's hand was wrapped around the teenager's throat. “I don't enjoy repeating myself, Stanley.”

Chapter Text

“I don't enjoy repeating myself, Stanley.”

All Stan could focus on was the man's hand around his throat, his thumb and index finger squeezing the pressure points just under his jawline.

“I really don't want to do this with you unconscious. Because then I'll have to wait for you to wake up. I dislike waiting almost as much as I dislike repeating myself.”

With black spots dancing at the edges of his vision, Stan gave in, and put his arms on the chair arms. Allensen smiled, and released his throat. “Good boy.”

Allensen looked over his shoulder and jerked his chin toward Stan. Dipper ran out of the shadows.

“Get him ready, Boy. I have a few things to finish preparing.”

Stan gulped in air, as he watched Dipper fasten thick leather cuffs around his wrists and upper arms, effectively binding him to the chair. He heard the little boy sniffle, trying not to cry.

“Hey, don't sweat it, kid. I’m tougher than anything Dr. Creepenstein can throw at me.” He pitched his voice so the insult would carry across the room.

“Don't be so sure. He can get, creative. ”

The way the kid said that, made Stan's blood feel like it was made of ice.

Allensen approached the two, he looked Stan up and down with the cold eyes of a predator.

“You sure have a lot of these.” Stan flexed his wrists. “You got a thing for tying up teenage boys?”

Dipper backed away. “Everything's ready, sir.”

“Hmm….not quite.” Allensen pulled a pair of scissors out of his lab coat pocket and easily cut down the front of Stan's scrub shirt, exposing his chest. “Now, everything's ready. Boy, bring me that tray on my workbench.”

“Really? What was the point of taking my clothes and making me dress in this getup if you’re just going to cut it up?” Stan snarked, trying his hardest to keep up his front.

Dipper looked at Stan, his eyes wide with an unspoken apology, before retrieving the tray. Stan gulped slightly to see the assortment of knives, scalpels, and other sharp objects. Allensen took the tray, and picked up a scalpel. “All right. Let's get started.” He handed the scalpel to Dipper. “Make a two inch incision on his left forearm.”

The kid paled noticeably. “I’m not-I mean I really don't-” He tripped over his words, as he backed away. Allensen sneered at him, with barely concealed contempt.

“Fine. You useless little coward,” Allensen snatched the scalpel back. “You will be on clean up.”

“Hey! He's just a kid! Lay off!”

Allensen ignored him and pressed the scalpel to Stan's skin. “This may sting a little. I’d like you to rank your pain on a scale from one to twenty.” He pulled the blade down Stan's forearm, leaving a thin line of blood in its wake.

Stan rolled his eyes, at what he interpreted as, an overly dramatic show. “Isn’t it supposed to be one to ten?” he asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“One to twenty is more accurate.”

“Well, considering I’ve taken worse hits from the seven-year-olds I help coach, that's a…..zero. Though, your little show you’re putting on, would definitely get a thirteen in my book,” Stan finished with a grin.

“All right. Since that seemed to have no effect, let's move on. Please try to take this seriously, Stanley. If your not, that will skew the data.”

“Kinda hard to, when you're overreacting like some mad scientist in a bad movie.”

“Maybe your brother would take this more seriously?” Allensen asked in almost innocent voice, full of suggestion.

Stan immediately tensed and started pulling on his cuffs. He let out a low growl.

“Hmmm. You seem to be rather protective of him, for being the younger brother. Isn't that usually the other way around?”

Stan’s reply was a dark growl, that was barely words. “ Age has nothing to do with it. ”

“Interesting. Why do you feel it's your place to protect him?”

“It’s all I’ve ever been good for. Stanford’s smart and is going places. He doesn’t need people like you taking that from him.”

“I’m not trying to 'take’ anything from him. If anything, I’m helping him to make a major contribution to human evolution. Wouldn't you say that's 'going places’?”

Stan simply rolled his eyes again. Great, he thought to himself , he’s one of those self-righteous idiots.

“You're crazy, you know that?”

Anger flashed across Allensen's face, before he brought the scalpel he still held down into Stan's arm. His lips curling into a wicked smile. “If you think me crazy now, I wonder how you’ll feel about me, once the real testing begins.” He twisted the blade before removing it. “How would you rate your pain as of now?” he asked calmly.

“ Three. ”

Chapter Text

“Three," Stan said through clenched teeth, trying to keep his breathing under control. Shit! That hurts!

Stan ground his teeth a little at that. It hurts but you can take it. Don’t let that guy call your bluff. You’ve had worse from disinfectant for crying out loud!

Allensen stood back and crossed his arms. “Very well. Let's try something else.” He turned to where Dipper was standing. “Take care of this. I don't need him weak from blood loss.”

The man turned on his heel and walked deeper into the lab. Dipper walked over with a first aid kit, pulling out peroxide and some gauze.

“The smaller one’s not too bad, but the stab wound is gonna need stitches,” Dipper said.

“You sound like you've done this before, kid.”

Dipper didn't say anything as he dabbed peroxide on the shallow cut. Stan winced.

“I’ll never get used to that.”

Dipper grinned slightly. “You can get stabbed in the arm without flinching, but this is painful?”

“Yes,” Stan said flatly.

“Huh,” Dipper replied, his voice taking on a teasing tone. “I would've thought you were tougher than that.”

Stan let out an indigent huff, earning himself an amused smirk, from the kid. “Believe or not kid, but I’m plenty tough.”

Allensen came back, carrying something that looked like an old fashioned radio. “Finished?”

“The deeper wound needs stitches. I’m going to need a local,” Dipper replied.

Allensen scoffed. “No. Just take care of it.”

Dipper finished bandaging the smaller cut, then pulled, a needle and silk thread, out of the first aid kit. He poured the peroxide on the needle and quickly threaded it. He looked at Stan apologetically. “Ready?”

He didn't give Stan a chance to reply, before he stuck the needle into the skin near the wound. Stan let out a small hiss, against his will.

The boy grinned, teasingly. “Almost done, you big baby.” He looped the thread around. By the time he was done, five neat stitches held the wound together. He wrapped some gauze over the stitches. “Want a lollipop, for being a good patient?”

Stan smiled. “You are in for the noogie of your life when I get out of these.”

Dipper looks like he almost wants to laugh a little at that, so Stan counts it as a win. Before Dipper went serious. “But really, you’re going to need to eat something sweet, in order to keep up your blood sugar. Do you want a sugar cookie or or a lollipop?”

Stan raised an eyebrow at that, before doing his best to shrug. “Eh. Lollipop would probably be easier, but I never really liked those things.”

“Cookie it is then. My sister made these.”

Allensen then started mumbling to himself about ‘incredulous teenagers’ and ‘not even owning any sugar,’ ‘laws against sugar’ and ‘sugar stashes.’ Stan shot him a look as Dipper pulled a clear bag of cookies out of his pocket. Stan looked at his arms, then at Allensen.

“Don't suppose you'd let me go for a second or two?”

“Boy, feed Stanley his cookie.”

“I think you're enjoying this a little too much, Creepenstein.”

That actually gave Allensen pause. He seemed to take a moment to think that over before replying. “Yes, I suppose I am. Also I appreciate the compliment, but my studies are vastly superior to that of Victor Frankenstein. I also won’t be following in the footsteps of his greatest mistake.”

“You do know that story is made up, right?” Stan is really questioning this guy’s sanity now.

“The story itself may be fiction, but the principles and concepts behind it are sound. One just needs to apply simple methods of understanding, for them to come to fruition.” He pulled a small table over, and set the weird radio looking thing on top. “Now, speaking of Frankenstein, are you familiar with electroconvulsive therapy?”

Stan tensed. That was what they installed in mental hospitals. “No,” he lied, trying to play it cool.

“Well then, allow me to educate you.” His wicked smirk, showed that he had seen Stan tense. “Although it's fallen out of favor in recent years, this was once hailed as a breakthrough in the treatment of mental disorders, much in the way lobotomies once were. Now, I won't be using it for that, however, I’ve found it has….. other uses. ”

Stan forced himself to remain relaxed, and not tense further. Allensen taped an electrode wire to Stan's wrist, and another to the palm of his hand. “This may be uncomfortable at first.”

He pressed a few buttons on the machine before turning a dial. There was a slight hum, and at first, nothing happened. Then a sharp tingling feeling spread through him, from the wires.

“How would you now rate your pain?”

Stan bit his lip, before spitting out, “Five.”

Allensen chuckled to himself and turned the dial again. Stan couldn't stop the cry that tore from his throat, as the muscles in his hand and arm clenched.

Chapter Text

Ford had woken up that morning, unsure of what to do. Now that he knew Allensen's true motives, he was fairly certain, he would no longer be authorized to roam the house. A check of the door confirmed that, when he found it locked.

He had just finished a quick shower, only pulling the scrub pants back on, when there was a knock at the door.

“Yes?”

A key rattled in the lock and the door swing open to reveal Maple, trying to balance a tray, two books, a notebook, pencil, fresh clothes, and what looked like a board game. He rushed to help her.

“Thanks!” She said, her usual bright smile in place. “I brought you a couple of books to read, and, I don't have any chores today, so I was wondering if you wanted to play?”

She pointed to the board game, “Chutes and Ladders”. He hadn't played that in years.

“It's been a few years. You may need to remind me of the rules.”

“That's no problem!” She plopped down next to where he sat, cross-legged on the floor.

As he munched on his breakfast- “Dipper cooked today,” she had explained. “I’m under a month long kitchen ban.” - she eagerly explained the rules of the game.

They were a few rounds in, when Ford noticed his left arm was beginning to inch a bit. He rubbed it, absently.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. My arm just itches.”

“Do you need some calamine? I can get it.”

He smiled. “No. It's not that bad.”

The girl nodded and moved her game piece. He didn’t notice her pick up the notebook and pencil. Ford was reaching for the spinner, when a sharper pain shot through the same arm. His discomfort must have shown, because Maple looked at him. Concern flooding her big eyes.

“That's more than an inch.”

“Must've been a muscle cramp. Strange place for one, though.” He rubbed his forearm, just under the elbow. “Then again…,” he mused to himself. “It’s technically possible to have a cramp in any muscle in the body. It’s just I have never had one there, before.”

Maple nodded, before writing something down in the notebook. “I’ve gotten a cramp in one of my wings before. It felt kinda weird.”

“What had you been doing to make it cramp?”

She blushed, slightly. “Trying to fly. I jumped off my bed and flapped them as hard and fast as I could. I fell.”

“At least it wasn't very high, so you weren't hurt.”

“A couple of bruises and a skinned knee.”

“You know, it could have been you weren’t able to fly because you didn’t have enough lift. Many animals and planes require a running start in order to get proper lift off. Perhaps next time -if you are going to try again that is- try running while you flap.” Ford was practically kneading his arm now, but didn’t seem to notice, to inraptured in their current topic of flight.

“You'll help me, right?”

“If I can. The hallway is pretty long, maybe we can use it for a test r-aaahh!” His voice was cut off by the sharp cry that escaped him. His hand cramped, fingers curling inward into a fist.

“Are you all right?” Maple rushed over to him.

“I'm not sure,” he clenched his teeth, breathing through the pain. “It feels like I'm-aahhh!” He yelled again, as another wave of pain shot through his arm. In the back of his mind, he thought he heard Stanley's voice calling out to him. Fear mixed with the pain and helplessness filled him, Oh, God, no!

“ Where's my brother? ”

“I’ll get him!” She shouted before bolting out the door as fast as she could.

As he watched her go, the pain seemed to intensify. He tried to suppress the scream that threatened to tear out of him. Stay strong, Stanley! he thought. We'll get through this! As quickly as it came, the feeling of fear and helplessness passed, replaced with a calm self-assurance, almost as if Stanley had heard him.

Chapter Text

“Stanley? Stanley? Are you still conscious?”

He could hear Allensen's voice calling him, and feel the man's hand tapping his cheek. He didn't want to give the creep the satisfaction of knowing he'd blacked out, but his tongue felt so heavy. He responded with a yelp, when he felt the back of Allensen's hand make contact with his face.

“Ah. Welcome back.”

Stan growled at the sight of the twisted-jerk’s smug face. He desperately wanted this to be over, but he also really wants to slug the guy. Before Stan could give a snarky retort, or the doctor could ask for the number ( again. ), the girl came running in. It took Stan a moment to remember her name, as Maple. Another moment, to register what she was shouting.

“--OP! YOU HAVE TO STOP!! HE FEELS IT! HE FEELS IT! FORD FEELS IT! HE FELT THE PAIN!!” She cried desperately. Ford was in pain?! “He was able to feel Stan’s pain!”

That made Stan’s blood go cold. Ford was in pain. Because of him! He had felt Stan’s pain. That meant he had to undergo the same treatment Stan had! Guy, Stan felt sick.

“You're sure?” Allensen said. For the first time, something that looked like excitement shining in his eyes.

Maple nodded frantically, practically sobbing by now. “He was able to feel it, though didn’t recognize what it was at first. It started with his arm itching, then it started cramping, and the cramp got worse and worse! It almost started spasming and he collapsed from the pain!” Maple hiccuped as she tried to get her breathing back under control, wiping at her eyes furiously. “He asked about Stan right before I left.”

“Intriguing!” Allensen muttered, astonished. “By the sounds of it he could not only feel a dulled down version of his brother’s pain, but similar symptoms, in the same location! Brother must have subconsciously sent out a distress signal, affecting his brother’s neurons to the point of experiencing real pain! This is excellent.”

Crap! Stan thought. That had been the first time in life he had felt desperate enough to call for Ford. he had plenty of moments when he felt alone, trapped, or scared, where he had probably should have called for help, but he’d never done it. He felt that whatever he was feeling was insignificant and temporary. What was the point of calling for him, if he was just going to see Ford later?

But that time had been different. He’d been in so much pain and had felt so desperate. He’d didn’t know if he would ever see Ford again and thought scared him. All that he’d known was that he needed Ford with him, to tell him it was okay. For a moment he thought he felt just that. But it wasn’t worth it, if caused Ford great pain.

Well, that ain't happening again, Stan thought, bitterly. He wasn't sure how, but he was going to keep Ford from feeling what he was going through. He could take whatever the dumb doctor had in mind if it meant Ford was safe. No amount of pain was worth Ford having to suffer.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Allensen, unbuckling the cuffs and pulling him out of the chair. For a moment, he felt like his knees were going to give out, but the kids rushed to his side to offer support. Guy, he felt terrible and could barely move. Now that his hands were free, he could feel them trembling violently.

“Take him back upstairs. I have to look over my data.”

“Yes, sir,” Dipper mumbled. “You can lean on us if you need to.”

“Thanks, but I’ll be okay.”

They trudged in silence out of the room. Despiste Stan’s claim, he found himself relying heavily on the kids and could barely keep his feet under him. The stairs were difficult but Stan could use the banister, so that made it easier.

He had to think of a way to keep Ford from finding out about his thoughts. But if they link worked both ways (and he was pretty sure it did) then he had to find a way to allow Ford’s in. It had to be strong too. So that when the pain came back, it didn’t fall apart. A gate? No that probably wouldn’t work .

They arrived at was currently ‘his bedroom’, pulling Stan out of his thoughts.

“Hey,” he mumbled to them, jolting them out of their thoughts too. “Is Poindexter going to be okay?”

Dipper and Maple side eyed each other, before Maple responded. “...yeah. He’ll be fine. It wasn’t as bad as yours, so he should recover!”

Stan nodded. “Good.”

They side eyed each other again, then opened the door and took him over to the bed. “Thanks for that,” Stan said as they started to leave. He wasn’t really talking about them carrying him, though he was very grateful for that too.

No matter what that psycho did, he wouldn’t let Ford suffer. He was going to see Ford again, and they were going to get out of this. Stan would make sure of it! But first Stan would need something to keep his overflow of emotions in.

Maybe … a dam?

Chapter Text

Research notes of Dr. P. Allensen

Date: June 28, 1971

Time: 7:34 am

Yesterday's testing has resulted in an unexpected revelation. It would appear my twin Subjects are more connected than originally hypothesized.

While testing the second twin’s reaction to pain stimuli, it appears my original Subject was able to feel his twin's pain. Does this go both ways? If I can force a genuine telepathic link, my Final Project will be, indeed, perfect.  

I intend to focus on my original Subject today. I am unsure if I’ll subject him to the same electrical stimulation, but it seemed to work well enough for the second twin.

Ford stood in the shower, enjoying the feeling of the warm water. He was tired, he hadn't gotten much sleep, being so worried about his brother. He hadn't seen Stanley since the other boy was taken, during the failed rescue attempt. He truly hoped he was all right. Ford flexed his left hand, it still tingled a bit, but the pain wasn't near excruciating anymore. He didn't want to think about what could have caused his brother that much pain. He had a feeling, though, that he would find out anyway.

How was I able to feel that, anyway? He wondered as he stepped out of the shower. He had always been able to tell when Stanley was in trouble, but it was usually just a tug in the back of his mind, never anything like yesterday. When it did happen at all, it was very rare.

He quickly toweled off and wrapped the towel around his waist. He looked in the mirror as he raked his fingers through his hair. It looked curlier than usual, if that were possible. I guess that's what happens when you can't use your mother's hair dryer.

Ford could never decide if he liked his floofy hair or not. Stanley had often teased him about it, saying he heard girls at school talking about how pretty it was and how soft it looked. He could never do anything with it. Stan’s could at least be managed when he wanted to. Of course, he teased Stan back about the 'ridiculous amount of pomade’ he used to achieve it. Thinking about it made him laugh. It was half-hearted, but still the first genuine laugh he had in days.

He walked back into his room, just as a knock sounded and he heard a key jingle in the door. Ford panicked.

“Just a minute!” he called as he quickly tried to get his clothes on.

He had just pulled a pair of scrub pants, on when the door swung open to reveal Allensen himself.

“Oh!” Ford said, unable to contain his surprise. “I was expecting one of the kids.” Ford began pulling his shirt on, in a much more leisurely pace.

“My young assistants are rather busy this morning. I took it upon myself to bring your meal today.” He held out the tray. It held a bowl of cereal and a banana.

“I take it you're not much of a cook.”

Allensen's eyes darkened. “I’m in no mood for attitude like that today, Stanford. I had quite enough from your brother, yesterday. I could always bring you a meal replacement pill.”

“Um, no. This is fine.” Ford awkwardly sat on the bed and began to eat. He wished the man would blink, or look away. His eyes unnerved Ford terribly. He felt like an insect under a microscope. Ford wondered if he would ever look at microscopes the same way again.

He put the bowl aside and stood. Allensen said nothing, only turned and walked down the hall, expecting Ford to follow him. He hurried to catch up.

Allensen led him through the house and down the back stairs, to the converted cellar.

“Now. I trust you'll give me less….lip? I believe is the phrase, than your brother did?”

Ford tried to hide his nervousness at hearing that. When Stan was afraid, he retreated behind a shield of snarky retorts and false confidence. The bigger the bravado, the  more nervous Stan was.

“Y-yes,” he replied, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice.

“Good. Now, have a seat.” Allensen gestured to the same chair.

Still trying to mask the growing feeling of fear, Ford sat down.

“Place your arms on the armrests. Palms up.”

He did so. Allensen quickly began buckling the leather cuffs.

“What are these-?”

“Just a safety precaution,” Allensen said, cutting off Ford's question. “Now. Since we didn't get to it a few days ago, I’d like to test your motor response to various types of stimuli.”

Ford didn't like the sound of that. Ford gulped.

“We'll begin small.” Allensen pulled a sewing needle out of his pocket. Ford gulped, again.

Allensen stuck the pin to Ford's middle finger. Ford flinched slightly, and tried to pull his hand away.

“Reaction is as expected,” Allensen said, seemingly to himself. He stuck the pin against two more fingers, then the center of Ford's palm. Ford’s fingers twitched involuntarily.

“All right. Now that we've established a baseline, I think we can move on.” He walked over to his workbench and returned with the tray bearing the assortment of knives.

“Um, what are those for?”

“Just part of the test,” Allensen said. His voice almost nonchalant, as if this was something he did every day. He picked up the scalpel and touched the blade to Ford's right forearm. “I’ll ask you, like I did your brother, to rate your pain on a scale of one to twenty.”

Before Ford could respond, he pulled the blade down the boy's arm, leaving a thin trail of blood. Ford yelped involuntarily.

“What? I’m afraid I didn't catch that.”

“Four!”

He drew the blade down Ford's arm three more times, each time, putting more pressure on the blade, making each cut deeper. Ford was up to six before he stopped.

“Very good. I must say, you're doing much better than your brother. I’m sure he was purposely ranking the pain lower then it actually was, but I have no way to prove that hypothesis.”

Ford blinked back tears, but didn't respond. Allensen set the tray and scalpel aside and pulled a small table closer to them.

“As I asked Stanley,” he said, as picked up two wires. “Are you familiar with electroconvulsive therapy?”

Ford gulped a third time. “I’m aware of what it does and what it is used for, yes.”

“Good. And try not to look so scared. I won't be using it for what you're obviously afraid of. No. I don't want to risk damaging that brain of yours.” He pressed the wires to Ford's wrist and palm. “I have, however, found that it has other uses.”

Realization dawned. “You used this on Stan yesterday, didn’t you?”

“Yes I did,” He replied, matter-of-factly.

He reached over to the machine and turned the dial. At first, nothing happened, then pain shot through Ford. His fingers clenched into a fist as he bit his lip to keep from screaming. It’s just like what happened yesterday but more direct and tingley.

For the first time, Allensen's smile reached his predator-like gaze. “Feel free to scream if you wish. My lab has been soundproofed.”

Tears rolled down Ford's face, as he couldn't hold the scream back any longer.

Chapter Text

Stan was bored. He had woken up that morning to a knock on his door and Dipper bringing him breakfast. Now he was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. There was a particularly interesting crack there, that if you stared at it long enough, it started to look like Farrah Fawcett. A knock at the door rudely tore him out of his fantasy.

“Is that you, Raquel?”

The door opened to reveal Dipper. “No. Just me. Sorry.”

“Eh. A guy can dream. So, what's up, kid?”

“Well, you're a boxer, right?’

“Yeah.”

“I was wondering, if you could um….teach me some moves?”

Stan shrugged, sure why not. “Alright. First off, make a fist.”

The kid curled his fingers in. Stan shook his head.

“Nope. Thumb on the outside. Like this.” Stan made a fist, showing Dipper what to do. “You're asking for a broken one, the other way. Now, show me your stance.”

The kid got into what he obviously thought was a fighting pose. Stan rolled his eyes.

“Nope.” He walked behind the kid. Guiding him into a proper stance while he talked. “Elbows in, hands up to protect your face, knees bent. There ya go. Now you're ready to start throwing some punches.”

    Stan smiled proudly as he watched the kid try some practice punches. He then had to look away in embarrassment of what he was going to say next. “Hey, uh- I wanted to- you know- thank you for what you did back there. When I was fighting Doctor Creep. I mean… I don’t  really know what you did, but it helped a lot. So… thanks.”

Dipper blushed, obviously not used to gratitude. “Oh! Uh- you’re welcome I guess. It's just something I’ve always been able to do. It’s not really that big of a deal. I’m glad it helped!”

“Kid, whatever you did made you pass out. It’s a huge deal.”

“I’ve never used my…ability- I guess- on a moving target like that. It was harder than I thought it would be. Of course, the fact that the target was alive, probably didn’t help.”

“Alive?”

“I’ve only practiced on cups and stuff. I did move a lamp once.”

Just then, they heard another key being pressed into the lock. The door open to reveal Maple, looking more than a little disheveled and upset.

“Dipper, hide and seek only works if you really look for the person hiding. Where were you?” She looked about ready to cry.

“I’m so sorry, sis. The doctor told me to come here and I didn't have time to come and find you.”

Her expression softened at hearing his explanation. Stan’s, however, twisted into a frown of suspicion. “Why would he tell you to come here?”

They oth tensed before Maple began to laugh nervously. “Haha, WHhat ? Who said anything about being sent here? Certainly not me! And if we were it certainly wouldn’t be to watch you and or distract you! Who said anything about watching you!?”

Stan looked at her for a moment. “Kid. You, are seriously the worst lair I’ve ever met, and I know Ford. Now, distract me from what?”

Before either of the kids could respond, a sharp pain shot up Stan's arm, right along the cut from yesterday. It happened three more times but in different spots. Stan found himself suddenly thinking of Ford, and it dawned on him. “You’re trying to keep me distracted from Ford.”

“No. No we aren’t.” Dipper tried quickly but Stan ignored him.

Pushing past them Stan stood in front of the door. He could take the keys from the kids but Stan didn’t want to hurt them and was on a time limit. Out of habit stan reached for his pockets, before remembering that he wasn’t wearing his clothes, and therefore didn’t have his lock picks. Only one thing left to do then. Stan raised his leg up, and kicked the door right beside the lock, hard. Stan kicked twice more before a much worse pain shot through his arm. With a roar of pain and anger, Stan kicked the door with all his might. There was a sound of splintering wood and a metallic crack, before the door swung open.

Without a second thought, Stan raced down the hall and down the stairs. Praying to gods he didn’t believe in, that Ford was in the lab from yesterday. Turning round a corner, Stan barreled through the closed doors, that he knew contained the lab. He was so glad that he had decided to memorize the layout of this place.

There, sitting tied to the very same chair, was Ford, screaming. Standing next to him, was Allensen. Stan saw red .

Chapter Text

Stan raced into the room, landing a solid punch to Allensen's jaw, and sending the man stumbling back in both surprise, and force.

“How did you get here?” Allensen askes disbelievingly. Stan punched him again. This time Allensen retaliated with a punch of his own. Stan dodged on instinct, and Ford watched all of this through the dim haze of pain still shooting up his arm.

I must be hallucinating, he thought, as he watched Allensen move forward for another attack.

Stan ducked under the oncoming arm and moved back. Allensen obviously was expecting a punch from behind as he tensed and spun around. But Stan instead moved to Ford, he grabbed the radio-like device and threw it straight at Allensen’s face.

Ford sighed in relief when the pain stopped, but he was still having trouble focusing. The loud crash that sounded was jarring and Ford craned his neck to see what had happened. The radio had collided with the wall when Allensen had dodged.

Allensen looked absolutely furious. Ford flinched when he started to yell .

“ YOU MORON!! Do you have any idea how long it takes to build one of those?! That is my best device for measuring pain stimuli!”

He charged toward Stan and was in front of him, before either twin knew it.

This time, however, it was Stan who attacked with a surprise knee to the gut. Stan was in street fight mode .

Allensen lot out a slight oof when the blow landed and before he could react Stan punched him hard in the jaw.  Allensen stumbled back slightly leaning on on of the tables in the lab. Stan didn’t let him get far, before he grabbed the scientist by his hair and slammed him into the table, with a crash!

Allensen was sent sprawling to the floor. Stan turned back to his brother, running over  and gently shaking his shoulder.

“Ford? Sixer? You still with me?”

Stan? Was he really here? Did that really happen?

“Yeah. It's me. Let's get you out of these.” Ford hadn’t realized he had spoken aloud. Did I though?

Stan started unbuckling the cuffs, not noticing Allensen climbing to his feet.

“You stupid..”Allensen slurred passed a swollen and bleeding lip.

Stan! Watch out!

At the sound of his brother's warning, Stan spun around in time to catch the scientist in the stomach. The man groaned at went to one knee. Stan turned back to Ford, pulling him out of the chair.

“Think you can walk?”

“I think so.”

He threw Ford's arm around his shoulders and helped him up the stairs.

“Thanks for the heads up when Creep was trying to sneak up on me.”

“You heard that?”

“Um, yeah. My ears do work.”

“Stan, I didn't say that out loud.”

“What are you talking about? I heard you. How could I have heard you if you didn’t say it out loud?”

“...I don’t, know…. maybe I’m telepathic?” Ford half joked.

Stan snorted. “Yeah, right. Come on, let's get you patched up.”

When they reached Stan’s room, Ford looked at what was left of the door. The wood was splintered and the lock was clearly broken. “What happened?”

“It and I had a disagreement. It wanted to stay closed and I needed it open.”

He helped Ford into the bathroom and set him down on the side of the tub. “Let me see your arm.”

Ford held out his arm. One of the cuts was still oozing a bit of blood, but it looked like the others had stopped.

Stan pulled off his shirt and began tearing into strips.

“What are you-?”

“What's it look like? I don't have any bandages.” Stan then began to dab the first of the strips along the bleeding cut, to clean it.

“Thanks for getting me out of there.”

Stan grunted in response. What was I supposed to do, let that maniac torture you?

“No. I suppose not.”

Stan looked up quickly. “You heard that?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“Then what did I hear?”

They stared at each other for a moment trying to figure out what had happened. Suddenly, Stan’s eyes widened in slight panic, before he ducked his head, and quickly got to work on wrapping Ford’s arm. Ford decided to try something.

What was that look for?

This whole thing is just weir- ahh! What was that?!”

“Stan. I think, the shared trauma of feeling each other's pain, connected us somehow.”

“Meaning what, exactly.”

“I think….we may be telepathic.”

Panic once again filled Stan’s eyes before he shook it off. “Nah, I don’t buy it. We’re both tortured one time and suddenly we can read each other’s mind? Get real Poindexter. Besides, we tried to force a link all the time when we were kids. It failed remember. So why would it work now?” please drop it.

“I think this must be the first time it's been this strong. Think about it. How did you always know where to find me when I was cornered by bullies?”

“Pure coincidence!” I’d always find you if you were in trouble.

That's exactly what I mean! We always knew when the other was in trouble. Remember when your opponent jumped you outside the arena the night you won the Junior State Middleweight Title? I found you before he could seriously hurt you-

“Stop it, Stanford,” Stan growled, cutting his thoughts off.

Ford sighed. It was obvious he wasn't going to convince Stan of this any time soon. He was confused on Stan’s adamant stance though. Stan had used his full name, so he knew he shouldn't push it, but he tried one more time. You're the one that watches 'The Twilight Zone’ every time it's on. I thought you'd at least entertain the thought. You’re the one that always likes us being together.

Ford didn’t know if it went through. Connection, he had felt earlier without noticing it, was now gone.

Chapter Text

Research notes of Dr. P. Allensen

Date: June 29, 1971

Time: 8:45 am

I’m getting a bit of a late start today, but that's not unusual, given my current status and the painkiller I had to take last night.

Yesterday, while testing my original Subject's response to pain stimuli, Subject #2 stormed into the lab. We fought, and I, unfortunately, was on the losing end. I have a split lip, swollen eye, and I’m fairly certain my nose is broken.(Most likely it will have to be set.) No doubt, despite the tests I have completed on myself, I am no match for him. I fear that if I am not fully prepared the next time we face off, I will unquestionably lose. I was not aware that he knew a different form of fighting, besides boxing. I will have to keep that in mind going forward.

Because of said intrusion, there will be several complications on the precedence of the following tests. The boy smashed my Miniature-Electroconvulsive-Generator, so I have decided to move onto a new form of testing. I’ve concluded that using the Capsaicin Extract would be best.

Once 2nd Subject managed to free his twin, and …incapacitate me, they fled the lab. I found them in the bathroom, to the guest room Subject #2 was previously using. I also discovered how he was able to escape his locked room with an oak door. Finding them there was quite a relief, I was worried they might have tried to escape. That would have been such an inconvenience to locate and acquire them again.

Fortunately, I had prepared myself with my mask and DMHP, so the meeting did not result in another fight. I moved Subject #1 back to his room, and Subject #2 was moved to Guest Room #3. I have decided to move them between the 3 remaining guest rooms every few days, as well as making the decision that Subject #2 will be restrained, for all remaining testing of Subject #1. Hopefully, this will spare anymore inconveniences, like what happened in Guest Room #2.

Which reminds me, my assistants seem so have gone missing. Hiding, more likely. I wonder if i should punish them for allowing Subject #2 escape, though, I doubt they could have stopped him. It matters not.

After contacting an old colleague of mine, I have acquired several narcotic substances. While I’d love nothing more than to use a few of them to cause Subject #2 unbearable pain, I must remain professional about this.

Which begs the question, how did he know what his twin was going through? And how did he know exactly when to turn to deliver that blow to my stomach? Did his twin call him? Have I finally been successful in forcing a telepathic link? What are the capabilities of the telepathic link? Could other abilities spawn from the link? Could the link have any weakness, that could be taken advantage of? Perhaps the next stage of testing will provide those answers.

For now, though, I still have many experiments to try.

Chapter Text

    Stan was awoken by the sun glaring through the window, causing his massive headache to spike. Why did the sun have to be so obnoxiously bright? And why did have to do it so early!? Stupid sun being bright and shining right through… the… window….

    ...Wait. that couldn’t be right. Their bedroom didn’t face east, it faced west. The room he had been in.... Shit! Everything suddenly kicked back into place. He had been captured and staying at Dr. Creepinstien’s house. Yesterday he had been teaching the boy how to box when he realized Ford was in trouble and-

    Ford! Stan bolted upright. Was he okay? Was he hurt again? Is he--

Ahh. Headache. Right. Forgot.

Taking a deep breath to calm and steady himself, Stan focused on the memories of the previous day. Okay think, you ran down to the lab and found Ford in trouble. Blacked out a little there, but I remember I fought the Jerk of a Scientist. I threw his radio thing so he couldn’t do that to Ford anymore. I thought I knocked him out. Geez if Ford hadn’t warned me--

Stan groaned at that. Not only did his mental defense slip enough to let his thoughts through, he made it so Ford knew about the ‘link’ now. Uggh, Ford didn’t know how to shut up! Why couldn’t he see that this was a very bad thing?! It would only put them in more trouble if they were linked both ways!

No. No no. Just breathe, and let it go. Okay. Now, what happened after we left the lab.

We had gone to the bathroom in the room Stan had been using. I patched Ford up. Then Dr.Ulcer-sen walked in. Rage filled the pit of Stan’s stomach, with that thought. He had a weird mask on. Before I could react, he threw what looked like a smoke bomb. Was so surprised, I gasped. Rookie mistake. Then everything went black.

Can’t believe I fell for knockout gas! Now both me and Ford are captured AGAIN! Then there's’ that stupid link to worry about…. Guy, I don’t know how long I can last of this. The cops have to be lookin’ for us by now, right? I told Ma to look in that bag on the desk if I didn't come back. I kept everything I found, so hopefully it’s enough evidence for them to be able to find us.

Stan lifted his head and looked around the room. It was indeed, a new room, though very similarly decorated to the last room. One that faced east apparently.

Has this weirdo never heard of curtains? There were curtains by the window but they were that flimsy kind that hospitals used that never blocked out any light. Plus they were tied back.

Apparently not. My room doesn't have any either.

Dammit, Ford! Get out of my head! BLOCK BLOCK BLOCK BLOCK!

Stan, this isn't something we can just ignore.

Wanna bet?! Stupid link. Focus on the dam. Things come in they don’t come out. Stan imagined a Giant dam being erected in his mind. Facing ‘Ford’ so his thoughts would flow through like water, while Stan’s thoughts stayed on the outside of the wall and didn’t go anywhere.

Stan what did you just do? You’re muffled now.

Good. Stan felt a bit of smug satisfaction with that fact.

Stan are you there?

He heard felt Ford sigh and pull back. You can't ignore this forever. This is something we need to explore. To understand.

Stan rolled his eyes. Ford sounded just like the creepy doctor. He was really glad that the dam was up and working, cause he really didn’t want Ford to hear that.

He stood up and stretched, distantly noticing that his shirt had been replaced. ( how many of these outfits does this guy have?) He was about ready to start calisthenics when he heard a knock at the door.

“Yeah, what?” he called, not bothering to hide his irritation.

He heard a loud sigh, before the door opened to reveal the creep himself. “I was so hoping you would be in a better mood today.”

“I was til you showed up. Also, I’m still being held prisoner. So yeah, there’s also that.”

“I wish you wouldn't look at it that way. You and your brother are being given a rare opportunity. You are both such valuable research subjects.”

“Great, so we’re lab rats instead of prisoners,” Stan rolled his eyes hard. “Look, I ain't nobody's guinea pig, Creepenstein. Neither is Ford.”

“You do realize I am still taking that as a compliment don’t you?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Weirdo.”

Allensen sighed. “For now, at least take a small 'peace offering,’ as it were. Breakfast, and an oil that should, alleviate any remaining pain in your arm, from the electricity. Boy made omelettes this morning.”

“You call your son 'Boy’? Not a fan of his name I take it.”

He's not technically his son.

Dammit!

Okay. Dam is a full time thing. Got it.

“ He doesn’t have a name . ”

Stan's hand balled into a fist. “ You really are a piece of work, aren't you? ” His words were low, which took a great deal of restraint, because Stan wanted to throttle the bastard.

“I’d like to think so,”Allensen mussed to himself. “But sadly I am a ‘work-in-progress’. As are all humans. We really are such inadequate beings. I plan to fix that.”

“I see the beat down I gave you yesterday, didn't knock the crazy out of you.”

“Ah, yes that reminds. I will have to ask you to corporate and act more docile from now on,” Allesen said, as he set the tray down, with what he thought must have been a pleasant smile.

“And if I refuse?” Stan already had a sneaking suspicion on where this was going.

“I’m afraid it won’t be pleasant. For you or your brother.”

Stan charged. “ You leave him alone! ”

Allensen side stepped the punch, grabbing Stan's arm and pulling it behind his back. Stan cried out, from the sudden pain of his injured arm being yanked like that. Allensen smiled darkly as he spoke. “Your brother will be fine, as long as you behave.”

Stan ground his teeth in anger, as he replied, “ Fine. ”

“That’s better.” Allesen released him. “Now, was that really so difficult?”

Stan didn’t reply. Instead he sat back on the bed with his arms crossed. Glaring the entire time.

Allensen chuckled to himself. “Don't look at me like that. You'll see I’m not really so bad.” He walked over to the tray and picked up a small bottle and cotton ball. “Arm please.”

Stan sat there and continued to glare.

“Did we not just talk about this?”

“Is that really medicine?”

“It will help to heal, yes.”

“Did you give it to Ford?”

“Of course. Boy should be administering it now.”

He reluctantly held out his arm. Allensen swiped the cotton across the burns almost gently. Stan hated to admit it, but it did feel really good. It even relived the slight twitch of his fingers, that hadn’t stopped since the first set of shocks.

“You may notice a slight tingling or burning sensation. That's perfectly normal.”

Stan did feel that but it was very small. Finished Allensen began to put the stuff a way.

“Now, would you like to eat?” He said it with a such a predatory smile, that Stan knew it wasn’t a question.

As badly as he wanted to say no, he was hungry and the omelette smelled delicious. Plus he’d probably make Ford eat it if was poisoned, and that wasn’t happening.

Chapter Text

Stan sat the tray in his lap and took a large fork full of the omelette. He wished Allensen would stop staring at him. It really made him want to punch that smug look off his face. He didn’t notice the burning feeling in his throat, until he was half way through the omelette. He felt his face flush from the heat.

Okay. A little spicier than I’d like, but bearable.

He was reaching for the cup of juice on the tray when his throat really started to burn. He swallowed a few times, but it didn’t seem to help.

“Are you feeling alright, Stanley?” Allensen asked. He sounded more amused than concerned.

Stan swallowed again. “I’m fine.” He grimaced at the way his voice cracked. He took a gulp of the juice when his stomach began to cramp and he started to sweat and feel nauseous. He glared up at Allensen, but he could barely see him because his eyes had started to water. “What... did you…. do?”

“Boy may have been a bit liberal with the jalapenos. He likes the horrid things.”

Stan started to cough. It was getting hard to breathe. He jumped to his feet and barely made it to the bathroom before he threw up.

“Well, I must say, that's more of a reaction than I was expecting.” Stan could practically hear the smirk in Allensen's voice.

“Reaction?” Stan choked out.

“To the capsaicin extract I slipped into your food. I have the bottle here if you would like to see?”

Stan leaned against the bathtub. He doubted he could’ve been able to stand up at that moment. Maybe he could turn the faucet on. Get rid of the burning heat in his mouth. That had only intensified with the stomach acid thrown into the mix. Guy, he felt sick.

“It appears you may be allergic to it. Not enough to be life threatening, it seems.”

“You….. actually sound happy about that.”

Allensen ignored that statement. “What about your arm? Is there a reaction there as well?”

“My arm?”

“Yes. The numbing agent I used for your electrical burns. It's made of the same extract, though not as strong. That’s actually what I meant when I said I had the bottle with me.”

Numbing agent… used on burns… allergic… burns… Ford.

“You better not have given this stuff to Ford or I’ll-” Stan couldn’t finish due to the dry heave that swept up on him.

“I don't believe you're in much of a position to make threats. Though I must say, it’s cute. Besides. Why would I want to hurt my prize unnecessarily? No, you see this both pay back for yesterday, and a new experiment. You smashed my Electroconvulsive-Generator. I had to find a way to compensate.”

Allensen had walked over and was now kneeling beside Stan. “Do you understand how it works, now? You cause trouble and there will be consequences.” He took hold of Stan’s arm and pulled it closer to get a better look at it. Stan weakly tried to shake him off but couldn’t. “Interesting. You don’t seem to be have any reactions to the drug, applied topically.” He stood. “You'll feel nauseated and sick for another few hours. If you are not better by then, I’ll give you some charcoal.”

“What did you mean by that?”

“What?”

“You called Ford 'your prize’.”

“Am I some comic book villain? Do you expect me to start monologuing? You will figure it out on your own. You are quite clever after all.”

Stan snorted depeldicedly at that. It was probably the first time in his life he was ever given that kind of compliment.

“You figured out my clues, after all. This isn’t that different.”

Allensen turned and left the room. A minute later, Stan heard the key click in the lock. He slid down to the floor and lay on the cool tiles. Ford, you better be okay. I don’t care what the psycho does to me. Just be okay.

Chapter Text

Ford groaned as he woke up. His head felt like it was about to split open. What happened? he wondered. In a rush everything flooded back to him….the lab….pain…..Stan saving him….some strange smelling smoke….then…..

Has this weirdo never heard of curtains? He heard Stan's voice in the back of his mind. Ford smiled to himself.

Apparently not. My room doesn't have any either.

Dammit Ford! Get out of my head! BLOCK BLOCK BLOCK BLOCK!

Stan, this isn't something we can just ignore.

Wanna bet?

Stan's presence in his mind became fainter. Stan, what did you just do? You're muffled now.

Good. The word was almost a whisper.

Stan are you still there? Ford sighed as he felt something between Stan and himself. You can't ignore this forever. This is something we need to explore. To understand .

Ford thought he heard--no it was more of a feeling than a sound--Stan mumble something else, but before he could ask, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

A key jingled in the lock. Dipper and Maple stood in the doorway. “ Morning, ” They chorused.

“Ah, Dipper. Maple. Good morning, to you.”

“Did you sleep okay?” Maple asked. Her wings fluttered slightly.

“I suppose.”

She smiled. “We brought you breakfast. Dipper tried to make omelettes. He did pretty good.”

“They’re technically spanish omelettes,” he said looking bashful.

“I’m sure they’ll be wonderful.”

Dipper blushed. They handed Ford the tray. It looked more like scrambled eggs with meat and vegetables in them.

He was about to take a bite, when stray bit of Stan’s conversation slipped in. He was apparently talking with Allensen. Ford paused to listen.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Weirdo.”
    Allensen sighed. “For now, at least take a small 'peace offering,’ as it were. Breakfast, and an oil that should, alleviate any remaining pain in your arm, from the electricity. Boy made omelettes this morning.”
    “You call your son 'Boy’? Not a fan of his name I take it.”
    He's not technically his son. Ford supplied helpfully.
    Dammit!
    When he felt Stan block him out again, he just shook his head his head slowly, before taking a bite.

“This is very tasty.” He smiled at them and they smiled back before Maple’s eyes widen.

“Oh I almost forgot!” She pulled out a cotton ball and nudged Dipper who pulled out a small vial. “Dipper’s supposed to give this to you so your arm feels better.” Her wings flared as wide as her smile, as she declared that.

He smiled back. “Alright then.” he set his tray aside and held out his arm. Dipper took the cotton ball from Maple and opened the vial. Maple quickly sat on his bed and started idly swinging her legs and fluttering her wings. Dipper poured the vial upside down on the cotton ball.

“This may sting a little. Try thinking of other things.” Dipper suggested as he began his work.

Ford nodded then turned to Maple. “I’ve been meaning to ask more about you two, actually. For instance, what are you’re actual ages and-or your current age?”

“...Well,” Maple smiled as she thought about it. “Anna-yearly we’re-

“ Annually ,” both Ford and Dipper corrected at the same time.

Maple winced before continuing. “Right, that. We’re 18, almost 19. Physically we’re almost 13 but not quite. Mentally, Who Knows!!” Maple waved her arm around as proclaimed that.

Ford smiled at that. “How goes your flight training?”

“Oh,” her smile faded. “I haven’t been practicing since… I haven’t been practicing lately.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Ford searched for another conversation topic, since she clearly didn’t want to talk about it. “Do you enjoy moving your wings, even if you can’t fly?”

“Huh?” she turned behind her and seemed to notice that her wings had been slowly opening and closing. “Um yeah, I guess. I can’t really help it though. For some reason I can’t sit still. I have to always be doing something. It’s one of reasons I’m not aloud to do important lab work.”

“Oh,” Before Ford could continue that train of thought, Dipper interrupted.

“Finished. You can finish your meal now.”

“Thank you, that feels much better.” Ford picked up his tray and resumed eating. After a few bites he noticed that it was slightly spicy.

He coughed a few times.

“Are you alright?” Maple asked concerned.

“I’m fine,” Ford coughed again. “It’s little spicy, though.”

“I only put green peppers in it. They're not supposed to be sweet, not spicy.” Dipper commented.

Ford's stomach began to twist into knots. He had a niggling feeling that something was very wrong, but he couldn’t pinpoint what. If my food isn't spicy, then that must mean…..oh no. STAN!

No. Don’t over react. He’s probably fine. It’s just a mild spice. Still, Ford couldn’t shake the feeling. Something was wrong.

He he tried to feel Stan through their link, but was met with whatever barriers Stan had put in place. His worry grew. His eyes darted around the room for a solution. He could try talking directly to Stan, but if he was fine, then Stan would just shut him out harder. He could ask Dipper or Maple to go check but he had been with Allensen earlier, so they could get in trouble and that was that last thing he wanted. He didn’t know what to do!

Just then, they heard another key in the lock, before Allensen walked in. He looked vaguely pleased with himself.

“Is Stan okay,” Ford suddenly burst out.

Allensen paused before replying with, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh,” Ford struggled to put what he was feeling into words. He failed. “...No reason….”

The feeling of unease and wrongness, intensified with both seeing Allensen’s grin widen, and feeling something from the link. It felt desperate but he could not make it out. The knots in his stomach tightened and it made it slightly hard for Ford to breathe.

“If you'll follow me. I have a lot to get done today.”

When Ford didn't move, Allensen's smile faded. “I’m in no mood for more defiance today. Either you come with me now, or you won't enjoy the outcome for you or your brother.”

Ford gulped, and desperately tried to pull air into his tight lungs.

Chapter Text

Allensen continued to watch as Ford didn’t move. He was starting to hyperventilate now but he couldn’t slow his breathing down. His mind had turned into a whirlwind of thoughts that he didn’t have a hope of catching. Ford was desperately trying to ground himself in physical sensations (his hand was grabbing his chest, his shirt, he should feel it.) but none of it was working. The world felt to sharp but fuzzy and so far away yet so very close. He couldn’t remember what to do. He knew he was having a panic attack but he didn’t know how to stop it.

Stan could be hurt. Stan could be in trouble. It didn’t make sense. Burning in his mouth. Allensen was going to hurt Stan so he had to calm down. But he couldn’t. Cause Stan was there and he didn’t know what was happening and it was all so wrongwrong wrongwrongwrong WRONGWRONG WRONG!!!

Breathe, Sixer.(I can feel you panicking from here) In and out. Nice and slow.

But Ford couldn’t focus cause it was just a voice in his head and he didn’t know what was going on! Then he felt something very cold press into his forehead causing him to involuntary gasp. His eyes locked on Dipper who was holding a freezing wet rag to his face. He looked apologetic. It was then that Ford really began to focus on the mantra playing in the back of his head. It was Stan.

Easy, now. I need you to breathe okay? In… out… nice and slow. Now, look at your fingers as you breath okay?

Ford looked down at his twelve fingers.

Count with and count your fingers as you continue to breath okay? Remember breathing is important because it supplies you with air.

the body requires oxygen...

Right, so you ready? In… 1,2,3,4.. Out… 1, 2,3,4,5,6. Again. In… 1, 2, 3, 4.. Out… 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

It was painful, but Ford was eventually able to get his breathing under control. He looked slowly around the room as he came back to himself. Maple and Dipper were looking at him worry and concern and he didn’t know how to deal with that. He continued scanning the room and his eye landed on Allensen. Allensen’s glare was sharp and cold, with mild levels of disapproval and disdain. Ford gulped.

“Are you finished?” He asked pointedly. Ford nodded. “Then let’s get going.”

Ford followed Allensen down the hallway. He expected to be taken downstairs to the lab, but was surprised when Allensen led him to his office.

“I have a few things I'd like to discuss with you,” Allensen said, as he ushered the boy into the office.

Ford hesitated before stepping into the room and sitting down in one of the leather chairs. Allensen walked over to a small bar area Ford hadn't noticed before.

“Would you like something to drink? Water, juice, soda? Milk? ”

“No, thank you.”

Ford was immediately suspicious. Allensen was acting like he had when Ford had first agreed to 'help’ with his research. The man poured himself a glass of juice and returned to the boy. Instead of taking the chair behind the desk, he sat in the chair next to Ford.

“I found it rather strange this morning that, when you saw me, the first thing you asked about was your brother.”

“It shouldn't be, given yesterday's events. Especially with the stunt you pulled with the smoke bomb. Where did you even find a World War Two gas mask?”

“I have my ways.” Allensen sipped his juice. “And, no, I suppose it shouldn't. However, in the lab yesterday, just how did Stanley know that was where to find you?”

“There,” Ford stopped and cleared his throat. “There weren't many places I could've been.”

“Or how about, he came the moment you were in pain?

“ Coincidence?” Ford tried weakly.

Allensen sighed and looked at the glass in his hand, as he swirled the drink around. He reminded Ford of the bosses in those mob movies his dad loved.

“I consider myself a patient man, Stanford. But I have little consideration for liars. I’ll ask again, and this time, I expect the truth. How did your brother know where you were?”

Ford took a deep breath before replying. “I don't know.”

    Clearly not liking that answer, he continued. “What about when I snuck up behind him? How did he know about that?”

“He could've seen a shadow! He's a boxer, you know. Maybe he just….knew? He’s got very good reflexes.” Ford was clearly trying to lie through his teeth and was floundering, he was never good at lying. That was always Stan’s area.

    “What did it feel like when your arm ‘cramped’?”

    “It… hurt? A lot? And tingled.” Ford was really unsure of his answers now.

    “What did it feel like when you ate breakfast this morning?”

    “Like eating food that was a bit too spicy.” Ford answered without hesitation. “Though, my stomach did feel mildly upset, but I think that was due to nerves.”

    Allensen nodded at that, before suddenly he was directly in front of Ford. He pinned Ford’s wrists to the arms of the chair while he glared him down. “Now, I will ask one more time. How, did he, know, I was THERE?”

“I-I,” Ford stammered stunned. “I… think I might have… warned him?”

Ford felt like he was about to be swallowed by the hungry smile, that spread across the man’s face. “Now we’re getting somewhere!”

Ford swallowed, feeling like he was on the verge of hyperventilating again. Except in reverse, because he was not breathing at all. He forced himself to calm down. And take a couple shaky breathes.

“Now,” Allensen said, tightening his grip on Ford's wrists. “Tell me, exactly how did you 'warn him’? I already know, but I want confirmation and a description.”

“I told him! I just thought it! I knew he was in trouble and I wanted him to know that, even if I couldn’t speak.”

“Interesting,”Allensen mused before he released Ford's wrists and stood. “There. Was that so difficult? Can you hear or sense your brother's thoughts as well?”

“No. I think Stan’s blocking me out.”

“Well, that won't do at all, will it?” The wicked grin, Ford had quickly learned to fear, returned. “I’ll have to put something in my plan to deal with that.”

“L-like what? What are you planning to do?”

“It's an old technique. But according to my contacts, quite effective. Have you ever heard of a 'cold cell’?”

“N-no. I can't say I have.”

“Well then.” Without another word, Allensen grabbed the collar of Ford's shirt and pulled him out of the chair. Ford struggled as he was dragged through the hallway, down the stairs, to the door that led to the lab. Before Ford knew it, he was in that chair again. This time it was his legs that were strapped to it. Allesen was hovering over him again. “I guess I’ll have to educate you.”

If he and Stan were truly linked, Ford knew he was now feeling nothing but fear. He hoped they would all make it out of this alright. Or at least in one piece.

Chapter Text

“This may sting a little. Try thinking of other things.” Dipper suggested as he began his work. Dipper listened in on their conversation but was focused on applying the extract.

“I’ve been meaning to ask more about you two, actually. For instance, what are you’re actual ages and-or your current age?” he heard Ford ask. It was cool that he was so interested in it but not pressing or being annoying about it , Dipper thought,

“...Well,” Maple smiled as she thought about it. “Anna-yearly we’re-

“ Annually ,” both Ford and Dipper corrected at the same time. The correction had been automatic, because it had been instilled into him since ’birth’. But when he saw Maple flinch, out of the corner of his eye, he sunk a little lower on himself. Of course that would upset her. Maple is usually slapped when she messes up a word. And because she has trouble concentrating she often forgets and makes up new words. Uggh. I can’t believe I did that. He tried turning back into their conversation, to distract himself. (But not to much of course, because this was hard with Ford having three cuts.)

“How goes your flight training?”

Right, it was his idea and talking to him that had given Maple the desire to start trying. I’ll have to remember to thank him for that. Dipper made a mental note to do just that.

“Oh,” her smile faded. “I haven’t been practicing since… I haven’t been practicing lately.”

Dipper almost winced at the reminder of that.

Allensen had caught her practicing not to long ago. It hadn’t been pretty.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Ford paused, clearly looking for another topic. Dipper was grateful for that. “Do you enjoy moving your wings, even if you can’t fly?”

“Huh?” Dipper glanced up and noticed that Maple was swinging her legs and flaring her wings.

“Um yeah, I guess. I can’t really help it though. For some reason I can’t sit still. I have to always be doing something. It’s one of reasons I’m not aloud to do important lab work.”

Uh oh. Maple hated being reminded that she couldn’t stay still or focus. He knew she hated being called the ‘useless assistant.’ and that she couldn’t be allowed into the lab or around any of the Doctor’s projects. He had think of a way to change subject fast.

“Finished. You can finish your meal now,” he blurted and started putting the stuff away.

“Thank you, that feels much better.” Dipper almost flushed again. He wasn’t used to such praise or gratitude.

Ford picked up his tray and resumed eating. After a few bites he started to flush and cough.

“Are you alright?” Maple asked concerned.
“I’m fine,” Ford coughed again. “It’s little spicy, though.”
Dipper frowned, confused. “I only put green peppers in it. They're supposed to be sweet, not spicy.”

They watched as Ford’s face filled with worry and concern. He looked like he was trying to calm himself down but it wasn’t working. Just before they could ask what was wrong, Allensen entered the room. He looked pleased with himself and that was never a good sign. What did he do?

“Is Stan okay,” Ford suddenly burst out. Dipper eyes widened in understanding as he glanced at Maple. She had figured it out too. They were both filled with worry, as a silent question was echoed at each other, in the other’s face. What did he do to Stan?

Allensen dodged the question with, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh,” Ford looked to be struggling to find the right words. “...No reason….”

Dipper caught Allensen narrowing his eyes at Ford. He had just caught Ford’s lie. Dipper gulped. The look was gone in an instant.

“If you'll follow me. I have a lot to get done today.” When Ford didn’t move Allensen continued. “I’m in no mood for more defiance today. Either you come with me now, or you won't enjoy the outcome for you or your brother.”

Ford started gasping for breathe. His eyes unfocused in fear. “Ford?” Dipper questioned. He didn’t seem to be able to hear the boy. His breathing continuing to pick up. Allensen watched this for a moment before turning his attention to Dipper.

“Boy, go poor cold water on one of the hand towels in the bathroom and press it to his face.” He commanded coldly.

Dipper’s eyes widened in shock and fear. “B-But H-He’s-”

“Don’t stutter, Boy.”

“He’s having a panic attack,” Maple interviewed, with a sudden shout.

“Yeah, and the cold could-” he cut himself off when Allensen began to glare at him.

“ Now, Boy.”

Dipper could only nod and say a quite, “Yes, Father.” before running into the bathroom. He quickly grabbed a hand towel and poured cold water on it. He really hoped this wouldn’t make it worse. He hurried back and carefully pressed the towel to Ford’s face. Ford gasped and his eyes locked on Dipper. Dipper tried to look apologetic, knowing how much this could hurt.

Ford’s eyes drifted down to his fingers, counting, as he slowly got his breathing under control. When he finally looked calm he began to glance, slowly, around the room. When his eyes locked on Allensen, he gulped.

“Are you finished?” Allensen asked pointedly. Ford nodded. “Then let’s get going.”

They both watched as Ford followed Allensen out the door.  Dipper glanced back to Maple and they both nodded. Knowing exactly what to do. They had to go check on Stan.

Chapter Text

They opened the door to Guest Room 3, the one Stan where being held, and looked in. Maple didn't see him. She looked at Dipper, worry in her eyes. This wasn’t good. Where was he? When they heard a sound from the bathroom.

Together, they walked over and looked in. Stan was laying on the floor, propped up by the tub. His face was red and looked hot. He, himself, looked nauseous and weak, and he was breathing kinda hard. Before either could decide on what to do, he suddenly heaved forward and threw up into the tub.

Maple carefully walked over to him and started soothingly, rubbing his back.

“I’ll go get some water,” Dipper said from the door. Maple nodded, but didn’t turn when she heard him go.

She carefully leaned over Stan and turned the farcet on. When she sat back, she continued rubbing his back and she felt his face.

“Woah, your burning up!” She quickly scooped up some water and splashed it on his face.

Stan smirked humorlessly, “I feel like I’m burning up.”

Dipper soon returned with a glass and pitcher of water. Dipper wordlessly handed Stan a cup and waited for him to finish. Stan gulped it down in two seconds.

“What happened?” Dipper asked as he poured another glass. They both had an idea though.

“Jerk poisoned me with capsa-something,” He replied weakly as he took the glass. This time he drank slowly. Maple continued to rub his back as he drank. When it was empty he handed it back and Dipper filled it again.

“Here.” Dipper handed Stan another cup of water.

“Kid, you keep this up and I'm going to float.”

“You've been sweating and throwing up a lot. You need this. Plus it'll help get that capsaicin out of your system.”

“You know, you're pretty smart for a kid. I mean, all this, plus the way you patched me up the other day. I wouldn't mind having someone like you in my corner.”

Maple couldn't help but smile brightly at that. “Well, of course Dipper is great to have in your corner!” She felt the familiar sense of pride, bloom in her chest. “Dipper’s the best! Wait what do you mean ‘in your corner?’”

“Boxing reference,” he muttered, finally taking the glass. “It means to have on your side and that they support you.”

“ Oh, ” she nodded in understanding. “Dipper’s great at that!!”

Dipper blushed. “I don't know about that.

“Stop being so modest, Dipper,” Maple chastised. “You’re great at supporting people and you’re awesome!” Maple sat on the rim of the tub and began to swing her legs as she listed off. “You’re super smart, and know lots of stuff, you’ve got your cool mind power, you’re really good at helping Father, and you were super supportive when I said I wanted to try learning to fly!”

“Well, you’re even more supportive than me,” Dipper challenged. “You're the one who helps me practice my telekinesis. Plus you’re always saying stuff like that.”

Stan laughed to himself. “You two sound like Ford and me when we were kids.” he smiled as he took a swig from his glass. “You two are twins right? I mean you’ve got to be, you look exactly alike and look to be the same age.”

“Yep.” Maple said. She made a “pop” sound on the P.

“Well… not quite in the same way as most twins.” Dipper rubbed his arm awkwardly. “Our DNA sequence split on the instance of our creation, so I guess we are technically twins but not quite.”

“I slept through most of health class, but that's what happens with twins anyway. Right?” Stan question looking between them. “The cell or egg or sperm or whatever splits and you end up with two kids. Sounds like you’re real twins to me, but what do I know?” Stan shrugged.

“A lot more than you let yourself think,” Dipper said. “You figured out all those riddles.”

“Why does everyone bring keep bring that up?” Stan questioned to himself. “Yes, I solved them, but it took forever for me to decode them. Besides the riddles themselves weren’t that difficult.”

“I read a few of them, and they were super hard,” Maple interjected. “You’re plen’y smart!”

“Ahh, sure whatever,” Stan tried to wave them way. Maple saw him sit up a little, like thought had occurred to him, before he asked, “Hey, are you two supposed to be in here, helping me?”

“Umm…..” Dipper hesitated. He wasn't really sure how to answer that.

“Well….” Maple tried for him.

“Uh huh.” Stan said flatly looking them over. “You two go. I’ll be okay now. I don’t want you here if you’re going to get in trouble. I’m not worth it.”

Maple jumped off the tub and hugged him. “Don't say things like that. Of course you’re worth it and we want to see if you're okay!”

“I’m not worth you two getting slapped or worse,” Stan retorted back with cold finality. “Besides I’m going to be fine now, so that’s no reason for you two to stick around.”

Maple and Dipper froze. They had never said it out loud before. Maple wasn’t even aware that he knew of that. Stan looked up at them, noticing something was….off. “What?”

“You knew about that,” She whispered. She wasn’t sure if it a question or not.

“Well it’s not hard to figure out,” he responded with a look like he couldn’t believe we were surprised. “Besides, Dipper practically confessed to it, and that jerk definitely seems like the type, which is why you two should leave. I can take it from here, so get goin’.”

Maple glanced at Dipper and saw he was looking at her too. She didn’t know what to do. There were to many thoughts in her head.

He told… why didn’t he tell me?

Stan’s sick! We can’t leave! We have to take care of him.

But we will get in trouble if we’re caught. The lashing was bad enough when he found out it was because of me Stan figured it out. And if he did that too Dipper…

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yeah, no reason to worry,” he smiled but it looked weak. It looked like was struggling to keep his head up.

“...alright,” Dipper said and started to move toward the door.

Maple followed subdued. She couldn’t help that her wings were dragging. She just couldn’t bring herself to lift them.

Dipper turned before leaving. “By the way, does your brother have panic attacks like that a lot?”

Stan sighed and looked away. He looked so sad. “Not usually. Only when he's really ups-.” He stopped quickly, as if he'd just realized what he'd been asked. “Did he have a panic attack, that-I-could’ve-no-way-known-’bout-previously?” The last part was all in a rush, but was indecipherable. It was a slow rush.

The kids shared a look. Dipper spoke up. “Whatever you do, don't let him know you're forming a link.”

“It’ll get worse if you do,” Maple added as she nervously fiddled with the edge of a wing.

“Heh. It gets worse than being kidnapped by a psycho?” Stan tried to lighten the mood, but his sarcasm fell flat. “Who said anything about a link anyway?”

“Then how'd you know about the panic attack?”

“Your question obviously,” Stan rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t be asking about it if he didn’t have one. Since you didn’t run in here or ask about it right away, he must’ve calmed down.”

Dipper sighed. “The longer you ignore it, the worse it will get. It'll become a bigger problem the more you put it aside. You might as well just accept it.”

Dipper was so smart. He was able to spot a problem instantly and think of so many ways to solve it. So many it usually gave him anxiety but still. All Maple could do was try and think of something til her brain hurt and ignore it until it got outta control.

“Yeah whatever, kid,” Stan muttered. “Weren’t you to leavin’?”

“Yeah. Just, think about it. Okay?” Dipper ushered Maple out the door. A moment later, right when they were closing the door, Maple thought she heard Stan half growl, half sigh.

Chapter Text

It was close to noon before Dipper found Ford. He had been told to take Ford's lunch down to the lab. It seemed strange to him that the teen would've been down there all day.

He went down the stairs, carefully balancing the tray that held a turkey sandwich and some chips.

“Hello? Ford? Are you down here?”

“Yes.”

Dipper followed the voice and soon enough found Ford. He was strapped to the same chair but he was white as a sheet and looked extremely scared. He was trembling all over even though it was fairly warm in the lab. Dipper sat the tray down an ran to him.

“You've been down here alone all day.” It was more of a statement than a question. Dipper quickly began unfastening Ford’s restraints. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing. That's the odd part. After my... episode,” Ford said, looking embarrassed. “He took me to his office and asked me some questions. He must not have liked my answers, because he dragged me down here. He restrained me and had me do some exercises. The only thing he actually did, was explain various forms of torture but he never said whether or not he was going to use any. Then he just….left.”

“Sounds like he just wanted you scared. He likes it when he thinks people are afraid of him.” Dipper picked up the tray. “Umm, do you think you can walk? You've been in that chair since about nine.”

“I think so. Although, I really do have to, umm….”

Dipper pointed to the back corner of the room. “Second door.”

“Thank you.”

Ford stumbled a bit, but made it to the bathroom room rather quickly. Once he was gone Dipper took a moment to look around. The lab was pretty clean considering. But he knew, he would be required to clean and organize it. So he set to work making a mental list in his head, of what needed to be taken care of first.

He was nearly done, when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Too heavy to be Maple….that means….oh no! Not him! Not right now!

Allensen made it to the bottom of the stairs just as Ford came out of the bathroom. His eyes narrowed for a moment before focusing in Dipper. “You've already taken care of everything. Good.”

Dipper unconsciously gulped. He glanced at Ford, to see him looking equally as nervous. Allensen ignored them both.

“Stanford, if you'll have a seat..”

“I'll stand, thank you,” Ford interrupted.

“Did I imply you had a choice?”

Ford crossed his arms and returned Allensen's glare. “I’ve been sitting all morning. I’d like to stand.”

Allensen pinched the bridge of his nose. Dipper watched Ford’s eyes widen, as he took in the bruises on Allensen’s face. After the beating Stan had given the man yesterday, he should have been considerably more bruised. Any bruises he did have looked days old, not hours. It made sense that Ford would be surprised. He probably either didn’t know, or hadn’t figured it out, that Allensen had performed some of the experiments on himself.

Dipper managed to catch the slight tense of his ‘Father’s’ muscles, which meant he was about to use his super speed, before he shot forward. Ford was barely able to get any questions out, before Allensen's hand shot out and grabbed the front of his shirt. Instead of being dragged back to the chair like he expected, Ford was practically thrown onto one of the lab tables, as if he weighed nothing. Allensen's hand moved from the shirt to Ford's throat, finding the pressure points under his jaw.

“Boy! Restrain him!”

Dipper hesitated, only briefly, before securing Ford's wrists and ankles to the table. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, just loud enough for Ford to hear.

Allensen released Ford's throat and walked over to a wall of equipment. He returned with an IV stand. He set it up near the table, then went to a small refrigerator and pulled out a bag of clear liquid. He hooked it on the stand, then began to attach the tubing and needle.

“You're probably curious as to what this is,” Allensen said. “It's a little something of my own design. What it will do, is fuse with your DNA and promote almost instant healing. Fascinating stuff. I’m sorry to say, however, that the process is somewhat…..painful. Fortunately, the process doesn’t start until a full twenty-four hours after being administered.”

“Why, is that fortunate?” Ford questioned.

“Because otherwise I would have to wait till tomorrow to give it to you.”

Allensen slid the needle into the crook of Ford's arm and started the drip. “I’ll see you in the morning, Stanford. Pleasant dreams.” With that he turned and left. Leaving Dipper and Ford alone in the lab.

“I’m sorry,” Dipper said again.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Dipper. You're not the madman here.”

“Your brother knew about your panic attack,” Dipper blurted out.

Ford paused before nodding. “Yes, I sort of figured that. Though, I’m surprised he told you.”

“He didn't. Maple and I figured it out. You're linked…..aren't you? Or at least close to being linked.” Dipper continued when Ford didn't say anything. “Don't let the doctor find out.”

He heard Ford sigh. “I’m afraid he already knows.”

“How?” Dipper questioned in scared disbelief.

“I….I told him.”

“... Oh this is bad. This is so very bad. This explains why he’s moving ahead with fusing you with the healing agent. He’s preparing for the next stage of the experiments. He’s going to start experimenting on your link and fill you with drugs and maybe give you surgery and- and- and--,” Dipper began gasping for breathe, his words having come out in a torrent of panicked explanations.

“Dipper! Dipper, listen to me. Concentrate on my voice. Take a deep breath.”

Dipper took a few deep breaths, while listening to Ford talk him through the attack.

“You said he will start experimenting with the link. What does that involve?”

“I….I don't know exactly, but if he's giving you that.” He pointed to the IV bag. “It can't be good.”

Ford turned back to look at the IV drip. “How is he able to move that fast?”

“Black Mamba DNA, world's fastest snake. It was the first animal he fused himself with. It was one of the few experiments he only did on himself. It’s not foolproof though. He can only move straight forward and his muscles have to tense before he can ‘launch’.”

“Just like the snake. What's in this healing chemical??”

“You've seen that weird lizard thing in his office, right? It’s modified from that. That thing can practically regrow its head!”

“Under any other circumstances, I’d find that fascinating. Though, from a certain perspective, it’s still fascinating that my DNA is about to fused with it, but I digress. Having my DNA forcefully bonded to the formula really takes the fun and curiosity out of it.”

Dipper smiled a little at that. “He takes the fun and intrigue out of everything. He did it to himself, too. That's why those bruises look like that.”

“And you and your sister as well I suppose.”

“No. it was already engraved into our genetic code when we were created. So we didn’t have to go through the process of it bonding.”

“Ah, yes. I remember reading that. That's a small consolation, I suppose. At least you didn't have to be strapped to a lab table.”

“Maybe not for this, no.” Dipper shook his head slowly, with a sad smile on his face. “I feel like most of my first years were spent tied to a lab table.”

“What kind of person treats children like an experiment? You and your sister should be outside, riding bikes and playing with other kids. Not cooped up in here.” Ford winced slightly.

“Are you okay?”

“My arm feels like it's going numb.”

“That shouldn't happen yet! That's how the bonding starts!”

Chapter Text

Allensen sat in his office, catching up on paperwork. He hummed to himself, thinking about his prize Subject downstairs, when there was a frantic knocking at the door. He sighed in irritation. “Yes?”

Boy pushed the door open and ran into the room, nearly colliding with the desk.

“Downstairs,” the boy's breath came in pants. “It's Ford! The bonding is already starting!”

“What?!” Allensen stood. “That's not possible!”

“Come and see!”

Allensen followed Boy as he ran through the house and down the back stairs. He rushed over to Ford, surprised to see his face flushed and covered in sweat.

“Incredible,” Allensen murmured to himself. “This took twenty four hours when I injected myself.” He brushed Ford's sweaty hair back from his forehead. “You are a special one, aren't you?”

He began unbuckling the restraints. “Help me get him upstairs.”

He handed Boy the IV bag, scooped up Ford, and headed for the stairs. When they reached the main floor, Boy must have expected them to take Ford to his room,(judging by his face) but instead, they bypassed it for what he liked to call, 'The Clinic’. He settled Ford in one of the beds and hung the IV bag from a hook on the wall.

Again, he brushed the teenager's hair back from his sweat soaked face. “Rest well, my beautiful prize,” he whispered.

    Turning back to boy he barked commanded him to tie the other twin to his bed and watch him.

Maple sat on the floor near Stan, smiling encouragingly, as she held out a spoon to him.

“One more bite,” She begged softly. She was not above using her adorableness as a weapon. He had tried to refuse, at first, but a few eyelash flutters and puppy eyes later, he'd eaten nearly the entire bowl of tomato soup and a good hand full of crackers. He was now trying to avoid eye contact while he refused to open his mouth. It was almost cute, how quickly he had figured her out.

“Okay,” she said, sounding almost defeated. “Do you think you can make it to your room? We'll get you comfortable and you can take a nap. Or I can go get you a book? There's one Dip reads a lot. I can't remember the name, but it's about pirates and treasure!”

Stan did look at her now. He smiled, loosely, when he realized she was telling the truth. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, though. None of them did. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get him to really smile. Maple was starting to take it as a personal loss. She made everyone smile. Well, she made Dipper and Ford smile. That was close enough to her.

“Thanks ...but, I don’t think I’ll be able to stand. Or read.” His head had lulled to the side while he talked. Now that she was looking at him, Maple realized that his face had gone red again and his eyes were unfocused. His face was glistening with sweat.

“Are you going to be sick, again?” she asked nervously.

“I don't think so. When did it get so cold in here?”

Concerned, Maple felt his forehead. “You're burning up! Come on. Into bed. You need to rest.”

Suddenly Stan let out a loud growling. Maple, who had been reaching for him, forze. Stan’s gaze was still unfocused but now held an intense anger. Maple gulped, before reaching for him again.

With some effort, but a lot of strength for such a little girl, (she loved that she was slightly stronger than the average girl) she helped him to his feet. It was kinda hard to keep him up right. Stan kept pitching forward and it was hard to hold him, cause his skin was burning so much.

She finally got him into his room, and he practically fell into bed. Maple would have laughed, if not for the fact he was running a fever. She was arranging pillows, trying to help him get comfortable, when a key jingled in the lock, and Dipper stepped into the room.

“Hey, Dip-dop! What’s up?” Her smile faded when she saw his grim expression. Oh no. “Is everything okay?”

“No. He's moving forward already. He gave Ford the advanced healing serum.”

“Oh..” she said quietly. “Well that’s okay! That means we have a day to prepare him and make him comfortable before the process starts!” She tried her hardest to smile, to put a happy spin on it, but Dipper wasn’t smiling back .

“Dipper?”

“It's already started.” He said it with such grim finality that Maple felt her strained smile die. “We’re already out of time. The process is starting early! ”

They heard Stan groan as he tried to sit up. “What are you two talking about? What's 'started early’?” He groaned as he fell back onto the bed, unable to keep himself upright. “And why is Poindexter so scared and disoriented while Dr.Creep is there?”

“Umm…” Dipper hesitated. He wasn't entirely sure how to answer that question. “The Doctor is obsessed with evolution. He thinks he can force it to move forward by…well, this is going to sound like a bad science fiction movie, -I think I’ve never watched one- but he thinks he can force it forward by fusing human and animal DNA.”

“Huh…” Stan murmured slowly. “That explains the wings.” He was starting to slur a little.

Maple cast a side glance at her brother, whispering, “If he's like this, I’d hate to see Ford.”

“I take a-fence at that,” Stan murmured indgently. “Whassithis ‘ave to do with Ford?”

“Nothing!” Dipper said a little too quickly.

Stan gave him the most dubious look he could muster. “Kid, don’t lie to the son of a liar. It don’t work.”

Dipper took a deep breath. “Allensen is fusing him with the DNA of a salamander for it’s healing properties. Currently, his body is trying to fight the serum- which is perfectly normal! He's running a slight fever, but he's okay! He may be in incredible pain later, but he’ll be fine! As long as his body doesn’t reject the new DNA. Which it shouldn’t! ”

It took a moment for it to sink in but when it did, Stan’s eyes widened in rage. “He’s doing what?! ” Stan tried to scramble up but failed, flopping back onto the bed with a pained groan.

“Easy,” Dipper said. “I was supposed to come in here and restrain you, so you wouldn't interfere. Or hurt yourself, which I’m really worried about you doing now.

“Whahappensifitdoes?” Stan's words were so slurred together, it was hard to understand him. His quiet volume didn’t help.

“We could barely hear you,” Maple said. Dipper jumped a bit. She'd been so quiet, he'd nearly forgotten she was in the room. Maple had been so shocked and scared she didn’t know what to do, so she’d been withdrawing into herself. She really wanted to wrap herself in something soft to make her feel safe.

“I said,” Stan said slowly, trying to pronounce every word. “Wha’ happens if Ford’s body does?”

Dipper looked at his feet and fidgeted with his bangs and hands. He didn’t want to answer but he knew he had to. It was Maple who eventually answered.

“He’ll die,” She said, her words quite and soft, but rang loud in the silence.

Chapter Text

“He'll what?!” Stan had intended the statement to be stronger, but the fever was sapping his strength quickly. All that came out was a hoarse whisper.

“But he's got a bunch of stuff in his favor to survive! He's young and healthy!” Dipper said, trying to smooth the situation. “The old, homeless guys he used before, weren't so lucky.”

“Well that’s not happening.” Stan once again tried his hardest to sit up. He didn’t care if he had no energy. He didn’t care that it was painful. He had to get to Ford. Ford could die . He had to save him.

“Woah woah hey!” Dipper’s voice seemed so far away. He didn’t care.

“I have to get to him!” He was almost up now.

“You’ll hurt yourself!” That was Maple. She sounded so scared and worried and that hurt but didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the pain of losing Ford. He just couldn’t do it.

“I don’t care! I have to get to him!” He was sounding desperate now but he just had too. Had to get ghat creep away from him. Had to find a way to stop the serum. He had to save him!

As soon as he made it to his feet, his vision blurred and he felt his knees buckle. His mind barely had time to register he was falling before he found himself on the floor.  Growling to himself, he tried again to stand.

“Stan! Please stop!” Dipper begged.

“You have to stop!” Mabel begged she sounded so desperate,

He heard a deep intake of breath, like someone was stealing themselves for what they were about to say. “You're in no condition to help anybody,” Dipper said firmly. “The doctor will do everything he can to make sure Ford isn't hurt.”

“I don’t care!” Stan cried, finally making it to his feet.

Dipper ran to the door in an attempt to block it. “Don't you understand? I’m trying to save you ! Allensen will kill you if you go in there like this! Please. You're my friend and I don't want to see you get hurt!”

That cut through Stan’s haze for a moment. It gave him pause as looked at the boy who was so desperate. All to save him . It didn’t make sense in his mind. Why would someone- why should someone care if he got himself killed. He didn’t know. What he did know, was his life didn’t mean much if Ford’s was on the line.

Stan swayed unsteady on his feet, the fever was getting to him. “Kid? What would you do if it were your sister?” He hated himself for having to resort to that, but he needed to get his point across.

He felt both kids freeze. Dipper looked absolutely lost. “I-- I-I,” he stuttered, unsure of himself.

“Wait! I have an idea!” Maple said, excitedly. “You two are linked! Go to him that way!”

“Of course!” Dipper shouted. “Maple, you're a genius!”

This time it was Stan’s turn to freeze.

“I’m not….” Stan struggled to find something to explain himself. “I won’t be able to help him that way.”

“You can talk to him,” Dipper said. “Let him know you're 'in his corner’.”

Stan sighed. As much as he didn't want to acknowledge the link existed,(at least on his end) he had to admit that was probably the only option. He was so dizzy, he could barely stand up straight, let alone fight someone. But what was he supposed to do? Sure, he could reassure Ford and easy his tension, but that was useless if his body decided to reject the DNA.

“Give him a reason to fight through the pain,” Dipper said. It was like the little gremlin could read his mind.( am I linked to them too?) Or he only read his face really well with the fever. Probably the second one. “Give him strength to live.”

“Okay. What do I do?”

“Get comfortable and think of a place where you both feel safe. Somewhere where no one can bother you.”

Stan barely noticed Maple slowly lead him back to the bed. He closed his eyes and thought of the Stan ‘O War.

“Take deep breaths. If you feel yourself drifting off, don't fight it.”

He laid back and focused on his breathing. He wasn't sure if this would work, but if it was the only shot he had, he was taking it. Hang on, Sixer. I’m on my way. It’ll be okay, I promise. I’ll get there.

Dipper listened for Stan's breathing to even out.  He turned to Maple. “Maple could you sit on his chest? I really don’t want him to try and move yet.”

She nodded slowly before compiling. Dipper waited another few moments before moving. When he was sure it was safe, he dug out the restraints that were attached to the bed frame and buckled them around Stan's wrists.

“Dipper! What’s that for?”

“So he won't try to get up again and hurt himself. He's never done this before, so we don't know what'll happen.”

“Do you think this will work?”

“I don't know. Hopefully it’ll connect them enough for Stan to pass on some of his strength to Ford. that way, he’s less likely to die.”

“I hope nothing happens to them,” Maple whispered, as she looked down at Stan, who seemed to have drifted off.

“Me too,” Dipper whispered back. “Me too.”

Chapter Text

Stan found himself walking through what looked like thick fog.

“How am I going to find him in this?” he asked out loud, mainly just to hear something. It was too quiet. Everything seemed to swirl together and part at the same time. He couldn’t tell if it was mist or various places and people that swirled beyond his line of sight. It could even be emotions or memories as far as he could tell. Whatever it was, it swallowed all sensations and sounds.

“Hello?” he called out. “Sixer? You here?”

“Stanley?”

He whipped around at the sound of his name, but he couldn't see anything.

“I hear you! Where are you?”

The fog parted to reveal a path through what looked like a dense forest. Stan started to walk down it. As he walked the background shifted continuously. First to a large city, then a wheat field with tall grass. It kept shifting and Stan stopped paying attention to it.

He could still hear Ford calling his name, sounding more and more desperate, more pained, and used that to navigate. With every cry, he started to walk faster. After a few minutes, though, the fog started to thicken again. It closed in on him, surrounded him almost like a living thing.

“You are not welcome here! The boy belongs to me now!”

“Show yourself, Creep! Fight like a man for once!”

“Always thinking with your fists, aren't you? But that's all you're good for, isn't it?”

“Don't listen to him, Stan!”

The fog parted again to show Ford. He was on his knees, wrists tied together in front of him, with a rope connecting him to the ground. Stan tried to run to him, but was stopped by an invisible force.

“I told you! He's mine!”

All the fog began swirling together rapidly. As it did, it seemed to engulf everything as it was pulled into one form. It swallowed Ford, when Stan turned back to him, hiding him from view for a few moments. Fog tightened and gained form, looming menacingly above Stan. It finally settled to show Allensen’s head, gazing down reproachfully, but with the focus of a microscope.

“ And even if you could get to him, what good would it do?” The head spoke as as it examined Stan. “You can’t help him in here. Not without bringing down your precious dam. But then where would you be?”

Stan faltered. He hadn't thought about the fact that, here, his thoughts would be open to anyone; all his insecurities laid bare for anyone to see. All his negative thoughts that he tried his hardest to hide.

“I...I…”

“Don't listen, Stan!”

“ Silence you!”

Part of the fog thickened and wrapped around Ford's mouth, effectively gagging him. Allensen laughed. “There's a good pet.”

“He ain't a pet!” Stan flung himself at the manifestation, arm pulled back, ready to land a punch right in his giant eye. His own eyes widened when he found he couldn't move. He looked down to see his feet has sunk into the ground. With enormous effort, Stan managed to yank his feet out of the ground and start trudging. He no longer headed toward the apparition, instead, heading toward where Ford was tied and gagged.

He felt a cold wind pass him, and saw Allensen reform, this time with his full body, behind Ford. He put his hands on the boy's shoulders.

“Why go through all this? Do you think anyone will appreciate your efforts? Oh, they'll be happy you saved the 'smart one’, but what about you?”

“I don't care about me. As long as Ford's safe!”

Stan's shout echoed through the empty space, drowned out by Allensen's mocking laughter. The world seemed to be shrinking and growing darker. Focusing solely, on the three of them. Stan barely noticed. He started moving forward again, only to find that, not only had his feet sunk into the ground again, but he was buried up to his knees.

“What the…?”

“ Sinking into your own thoughts are we? You can deny it all you want but you know I’m right. Since you are so desperate for him to not hear,” Allensen inclined his head toward Ford. “how about we set him aside for a while.” Allensen stepped back and in a second, the fog wrapped around Ford and pulled him into the ground.

“ No! Stanford! What did you do with him?!”

“ I simply sent him further down the path.” he gestured behind him. “He’s at your boat to be specific.”

Stan tried to pull his legs up, but found himself firmly stuck. Instead of trying to lift all the way up, Stan tried lifting just enough to take a step forward. It was like wading through thick mud.

“ You know the only way you’ll be able to save him now is to give up and lower your dam. It’s only a matter of time before his body fully rejects the serum.” The ground was now up to his waist.

“That's not going to happen! I’ll do whatever I have to to save him! You hear me, Ford?! You fight this! You have to live!”

“ Of course we both know what will happen if you do lower it.” Allensen continued as if he hadn’t heard Stan. The ground was up to his lower abdomen now.

“What's it going to take to get it through your thick skull, Creep!? He's my brother and I’d give up everything for him! Even my life! So Shuddup!” With a yell, Stan dropped all his defenses.

“ But you’re afraid. You’re afraid that if he hears your thoughts about yourself, he’ll realize you’re right.”

The fog seemed to darken around him. Stan fixed his gaze on Allensen.

“I…don't…care!”

“You’re terrified that he’ll see you for what you really are.” his ribs.

“It won't matter to him!”

“ A worthless, idiot, reject failure, who never has and never will be good for anything.” his armpits.

“You...shut...up!”

Stan raised his arm and mimicked throwing a punch. He was shocked when Allensen staggered backwards. But that still didn’t stop him.

“And you know what else? Your biggest fear, is that not only will he realize that, but he’ll leave you behind. He’ll move forward without you. On. Purpose ! ”

“No! Where we go, we go together! He promised!”

Allensen laughed. “You poor fool. Don't you realize, people change? That promise was made years ago! Before everyone realize how smart he is. Before anyone realized what an idiot you are. Before he hears your thoughts and learns everything.”

“You're...you're wrong! Ford's not like that! He'd never turn his back on me!” Stan wasn’t even fighting to move forward anymore. His eyes unfocused as he listened to the words the ground was up to his neck now but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“ Perhaps not intentionally, but we both know he will grow tired of you. He is a true genius. He needs to be changed in order to advance. You can’t give him that. You’re just…. Holding him back.”

Stan sighed. “I…” He couldn't think of anything to say. His throat closed off, at the thoughts consuming him. It couldn’t really be true. But what if it is? Ford’s not like that. Is he? But deep down. Stan knew it was all true. He couldn’t let Ford see. But he still had to do whatever he could to save him. That didn’t feel like much at the moment.

Chapter Text

Allensen's mocking laughter filled the space again. “Finally accepting the truth?”

Stan never broke eye contact. “Joke's on you, Creep. I know I'm not good for anything. I made peace with that a long time ago. But Ford will never give up on me, just like I’ll never give up on him.”

“Then you're more of a fool than I thought.”

“I’d rather be a fool than an arrogant jerk like you.”

Stan had to think. He had to figure out how to get to Ford. How was he going to do that, when he was literally being swallowed by his thoughts?

Wait. That’s it! I’m in my mind! So if I concentrate, I can do anything I want! Stan began to focus on the Stan ‘O War. He was then swallowed by the ground.

Ford slowly opened his eyes and pushed himself up from the ground, his fingers shifting in the sand. Sand?

He scrambled to his knees and looked around. He was on a small hill of sand like the sand back home, on top of the hill was where half the Stan O’ War was sitting. He couldn’t see what the rest of the world looked like because of a dense fog that surrounded him.

How did I get here? I was in...a forest?....my hands tied...I couldn't move...Stan?...was he there?...Allensen…

That’s right. Allensen was there and he was berating Stan.(I think) It looked like Stan was listening. Then I ended up here.

Ford got to his feet and looked around. The strange fog obscured most of his vision, but he could see the old rock formations, the cave where he and Stan had found the Stan O’War all those years ago, and the boat itself. Well half the boat. I wonder where the other half is? This isn’t even the half we found and it’s in much better repair. It’s clearly the Stan ‘o War though.

“Hello?!” He called out, hearing his voice echo back to him. “Is anyone there?!”

Silence.

What am I going to do now? I guess I could try to figure out what Allensen was doing here.

He didn’t talk like Allensen. His speech pattern didn’t match up and he knew things he shouldn’t. So it probably wasn’t Allensen himself, just something that looked like him. Seeing how it was focusing on Stan it was likely created from his subconscious. Theoretically it was probably a condiete for his worst fears to manifest. It does make sense that Stan would be afraid of Allensen.

Suddenly, a voice began to echo around Ford’s area. It was soft and sounded distant, though.

…..not gonna happen…..hear me Ford?...fight this!....live!

“Stanley?!”

Ford turned, looking for his brother, but was met only with the thick fog.

“Fight what?” He yelled into the distance. As if in answer, the fog grew thicker and began to swirl around him, drawing closer to his body.

It was then, that he noticed his whole body had a tingling sensation, running through it. His arm and head especially felt weird. Was this what he was supposed to be fighting? How?

The fog circled his neck and chest, cutting off his oxygen.

Just close your eyes, and give in, a voice whispered.

Ohh… fight this! Okay, Ford thought. That I can do.

Ford immediately, began struggling. He imagined the Fog as a physical force that he tried to throw off.

Come with me, Stanford. Let me help you.

Ford elbowed the manifestation in it's 'ribs’, and turned to face it. The creature stood tall and foreboding,

You don’t have to continue to suffer. It’s okay to give up. There’s no shame in it. It’ll be painless….

“I’m not giving up without a fight!” He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard the creature laugh.( or maybe it chuckled?)

“At least one of us finds this humorous.”

You have a warrior's heart and spirit. You always have and always will. But I must warn you. It will only get harder from here. Your life will face many hardships. It’ll not be pleasant. It will hurt so much.

“I’m no stranger to hardship, just as I'm no stranger to pain. It has dogged me every day of my life. I’ll Survive it.”

Perhaps. But you are a stranger to these hardships and pains. You may very well survive but you will never be the same. They will be different from anything you’ve previously experienced. Are you sure you want that? If you give in I can promise you peace…

It dawned on him what this creature was saying. “Peace? As in… death?”

In a sense. Are you certain you want to live, Stanford?

“Yes! That madman still has my brother. As well, as Dipper and Maple! I can't abandon them.”

The path you choose will leave more than a few scars . If you do choose to leave this world, the others will be given a similar opportunity soon. You will not be apart from them, for long. Allensen is a small obstacle compared to what’s to come. Are you still sure you would like to fight? To try and Live? To endure some of the Greatest pain imaginable? Pain that not even my great Strength can heal?

Ford took a deep breath, knowing the answer before he even said the words. “I want to live.”

Very Good, Stanford. I sincerely hope you never regret your decision, made this day. May this power help you in your journey .

Chapter Text

The form of the fog began to shift again, as it slithered away from him, this time taking the form of a large salamander-looking creature with frills on its neck. Ford vaguely remembered seeing one in Allensen’s office. The Salamander seemed to smile at him-- no it out right grinned -- before giving him a nod.

Until we meet again, Stanford Pines. It was that thing Ford heard of the voice before it was gone, the fog dissolving back into the background.

“Goodbye.” Ford a gave a slight wave at where at where the salamander had been.

What was that? A part of my subconscious? Probably, but why did it take that form? It also seemed to know more than I do. Very strange.

Suddenly. Ford was hit with a blast wave of emotion. Determination. Defiance. Anger. Denial. Hurt. Self-disgust. Self hate. Hate. Fear. Worry. Fear. Sadness. Exceptencess. Confusion. Despair. helplessness.

So many emotions they threatened to overwhelm him.

“Stanley?!” He called out.

“But you’re afraid. You’re afraid that if he hears your thoughts about yourself, he’ll realize you’re right.”

The surge of emotions cut off abruptly when the words echoed out. Ford recognized the voice of that of the Fear Allensen. God, Stan is still with that thing!

“ Stanley? Stanley what does he mean?! Are you alright?! ”

Ford began searching the fog in earnest for any sign of Stan. He couldn’t make out anything. So intent, was his search, he didn’t notice the tingling sensation growing worse.

..don't…care!

“Stan? Can you hear me? Don’t care about what?”

won't matter to him!

“What won’t matter? Matter to who? Stan!”

…. not like that….

“who never has and never will”

That was Allensen again. “Stan? Stanley, what is he saying?! Don’t listen! ”

Promised!

“Stan? Promised what? Who did? Stan can you hear me?! I need you to listen!”

“people change?”

“Stan? What ever he’s says, you have to ignore! He’s a manifestation of fear! It’s not real! ”

Wrong!

“Stan did you hear me that time?” Hope filled Stanford, with the thought of getting through to his brother. “Stan, I’m not wrong! None of this is real! It’s all in our heads!”

….

He was met with a long pause. This time, he tried to call out to Stan with both his voice and the link. Nothing. Then finally something filtered through the fog.

... an arrogant jerk like you….

“Stan?” It was much quieter that time. Did Stan really think that about him? Or is he still talking to that Allensen. Does Stan think he’s real?

“FORD!!!”

He turned at the sound of his name. The fog had widened out so now Ford could see to the left of him. On a similar patch of sand, stood the other half of the Stan ‘O War. it seemed to glow and shimmer, an odd feat since it was completely devoid of any color. Most importantly, however, Stan himself, was coming out of the sand.

Stan raced across the sand and grabbed his brother in a bone crushing embrace.

“Stan! I need air!”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Ford rubbed his arm. The feeling had spread to his shoulder. “How did you get here?”

“We are in the mind, Sixer,” Stan says pointedly.

Ford took a moment to really look at stan. He looked, he felt…. Off. something just seemed wrong or not there. He seemed 2D. Like he had no depth. It was like being on the end of one of Stan’s bluffs and not being able to tell what he was trying to hide. The whole thing felt fake but Ford couldn’t tell why .

“Stan, are you okay?”

“Yep!” Stan grinned. “I’m perfectly fine, Sixer.”

It was then, that Ford knew what was off. He couldn’t sense Stan’s emotions at all. His body language radiated nothing but confidence. It was impossible to read him. It was just like when Stan put on one of his acts.

“More importantly are you okay? I heard what happened and I can’t have you dying to some dumb syrup, you got that?!”

“I’m not going to die.” Ford said confidently and honestly. He knew for certain that he wouldn’t.

“You sure? Because I’ll do whatever I have to, to keep that from happening. Just say the word and I’m there!” Real concern flowed out of him. As well as eagerness to help.

“It’s alright Stan, I’m not going to die.”

“You better not,” Stan muttered.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Stan?” Ford looked him over for any sign of honest emotion. “That Allensen wasn’t real you know? He was just a manifestation of fears.”

Stan nodded, before he could speak however, the strange tingling sensation spread across Ford's chest. “Ahhh!” He fell to his knees.

“Ford!” Stan cried as hunched down to be at Ford’s side.

“It's okay. I’m fine.” He tried to stand, but the pain sent him sprawling to the sand.

“Ford you better be okay or I’ll…” Stan threatened as began to help Ford to a sitting position.

Ford struggled to breathe. “I’ll be okay. He said so…”

“Who did? Was there someone else here?” there was a hint of fear in Stan’s voice.

Before Ford could answer the pain intensified at least tenfold and ripped through his body. Ford cried out from the force of it. He didn’t notice Stan cry out with him. It felt like the very core of his being was being reforged. Melded and reshaped, from the intense heat. It was like every cell in his body suffered from the pain, of be ripped apart and put back together wrong. It hurt worse than anything he’d ever felt before. Tears fell from his eyes, as he squeezed them shut.

Is this what he meant?

Stan grabbed Ford's hand but for some reason he could barely feel it. “Stay with me, Sixer.” He sounded so faint.

Ford tried to hang on, he really did, but the pain was all consuming. He couldn’t focus on anything else. Ford awoke with a scream.

Chapter Text

Research notes of Dr. P. Allensen

Date: June 30, 1971

Time: 10:45 pm

Today has been quite the busy day. I started with testing the pain of my Second Subject using the Capsaicin Extract. The test seemed most effective, #2 Subject even proved to be allergic to it, though not leathaly so. However, it seemed to fail in causing his twin to have similar reactions. He did have a slight react but it was minimum. Talking with Subject #1 provided why.

It appears that Subject #2 has somehow developed a mental defense. It seems to be capable of blocking his twin out, thus keep the link from forming. Deciding that the only way to get him to lower these barriers, is to have his twin undergo massive amounts of pain, I have moved forward with my plans.

I have begun the process of fusing my original Subject with the Axolotl DNA Serum. Like the amphibian it is derived from, this will grant him accelerated healing, provided his body does not reject the process. Although it seems my concerns of rejection were unfounded. When I infused myself with the serum, transition did not begin until twenty-four hours after the injection. Subject #1 began to transition almost immediately. Is this due to some quirk of his genetic code? I’ll have to run another test on my existing blood sample. I need to acquire a blood sample from Subject #2.

Testing on Subject #2 has proven…aggravating. The boy seems to enjoy trying to provoke me to fits of anger. I will be looking through the narcotics, provided by my former colleague, to see if I have something that may make him more docile, although I have concerns this will interfere with any experiments.

Both Subjects appear to have begun developing a genuine telepathic link. They seem capable of sensing the other's pain, but if they are able to communicate with one another in this manner remains to be seen. I am currently waiting for the Second Subject to awaken, to see how he reacts to his twin undergoing the process.

Stan woke up with a scream that he knew Ford was mirroring. This had to be the worst pain he’d ever felt! But if it was this bad for him then it must be a thousand times worse for Ford. He had to get to him!

He tried to sit up, but found his wrists firmly bound at his sides. “What the hell?”

“Well, good morning to you, too,” said an all too familiar voice. Allensen sat in a chair near the foot of the bed. He had what looked like a journal in his lap.

“Was that supposed to be a joke?” Stan growled.

Allensen laughed to himself. “No. I suppose not.”

“You know,” Stan said, pulling at the restraints slightly. “I’m really starting to think you enjoy this.”

Allensen chuckled again. “You are very perceptive. I admit, I am rather fond of measuring your pain when compared to the other.”

Stan tried to sit up again. “What did you do to Ford?!”

“What makes you think I 'did something’?”

“Because you wouldn't be in here, pulling the 'Creepy Guy Watching You Sleep’ thing if you hadn't.”

“Are you sure? That was quite a yell you woke up with. I would ask if you had a nightmare, but we both know the answer to that question is 'no’.”

Stan rolled his eyes, as he subtly started twisting his wrists. “Shouldn’t you be watching Ford, not me? To make sure he doesn’t - I don’t know- die?”

“I have Boy monitoring him. He'll inform me if his condition changes.”

“You sure you don’t want to check up on him? Don’t you have to be there if he starts flatlining? I really don’t want my brother dying because you decided to play Creep.”

“Your concern is noted. Boy knows how to use all emergency equipment. I assure you, your brother is in good hands.”

“You always mention Boy, you never mention ‘Girl’. Not a fan of your daughter I take it?” Stan was now starting to fiddle with the clasps of the cuffs. It hurt so bad to move or talk but he had to work through it.

Allensen scowled. “ ..No. ”

“I don't see why. She's great.”

“She's useless . She wasn’t even supposed to exist and not only that but she has no useful skills at all. Her wings are defective , she doesn’t seem to have the learning abilities, no enhanced features of the mind, and on top of all that she can’t even stay still or concentrate! ”

“Pfft. Makes sense that an arrogant jerk like you would only see that. You don't see how she lights up a room? How she takes care of everyone? ‘Defective’ or not, any parent would love to have her!”

Stan tried to ignore how similar the words sounded, to words he’d heard so often before.

Allensen scoffed. “Sentimental garbage,” he mumbled. “I’d rather discuss you and your brother's growing... connection, if you will.”

“Don't know what you're talking about.”

“ You know exactly what I’m talking about! ” Allensen’s voice started losing it's calm control. Stan smirked at that. “Your brother told me everything.”

“Did he now?”

“Yes. He told me all about your telepathic link. How you two are starting to sense each other's pain. Each other’s thoughts. I would like to learn more about it.”

“I ain't talking. I still don’t know what you mean.”

The pain was increasing steadily but Stan had to keep up his bluff. If he didn’t keep the guy talking, he may notice Stan’s escape attempt. He was so close but it hurt so bad. It took everything he had to not grit his teeth.

Allensen sighed. “You're a stubborn one, aren't you? Why must you continue to deny it?”

“Because it's hard enough being in my own head! I don't want him in there, too.” Damn pain. That was far to honest.

“And why is that?”

Stan didn't say anything. His hand was almost free.

“Not speaking? No matter. I know you are well on your way to being linked. It will happen, whether you accept it or not.”

“You know, when you say it, you make it sound like a bad thi--.” Stan was cut off by another wave of pain, only this time, he was unable to stop the hitch in his breathing.

“Ahh so you can feel what is happening. Good. Part of the reason I decided to move the treatment up, was to further link you. As well as, get you to lower your pesky barriers. Your twin said your blocking him out? That won’t do at all.”

Stan tried to get his breathing to return to normal. “You…hurt Ford,...and I'll…”

Allensen laughed. “You'll what? If I uncuffed you right now, I bet you could barely stand.”

Stan just huffed. Still trying to be as subtle as possible with removing said cuffs.

“Now will you tell me about your mental barrier? What form it takes? And to what level does it accomplish blocking Stanford out?”

Stan couldn’t help his smirk at this. He knew he was on the verge of being delirious from the pain, and that he really shouldn’t say anything, but he couldn’t stop himself. His mouth ran away with him. “....Shows what  you know… I’m not blocking out Ford at all!” His smirk grew at this. He knew he should just stop, talking, but his mouth refused. “I’m blocking out me .”

Allensen scribbled something in his book. “Incredible. You can sense him, but you're blocking yourself off. What does this entail exactly?”

“I don't know. It just...happens.” He finally slipped his hand free. He started to sit up, and maybe catch Allensen's smug face with a surprise punch, but another wave of pain sent him back. It felt like every muscle in his body had seized up at the same time. No every cell. It was too much. Stan couldn’t hold back crying out and jerking his wrists. Drawing Allensen’s attention down to what he’d been doing.

Allensen tutted. “Clever, getting me to talk while trying to free yourself. Pointless however.” Allensen leaned down and started rebuckling Stan’s wrists. He then stared at Stan with contemplative look.

“Hmm. Perhaps I’d better check in and see how Stanford's transition is going. I’ll return shortly and we can finish this conversation.”

Chapter Text

Dipper sighed as Maple brought in another bowl of cold water. He had been charged with “monitoring” Ford. The teen was running a high fever. Not to mention in intense pain and was writhing in agony.

“How's he doing?” Maple whispered.

“Okay, I think. At least his fever's not getting any higher.”

The IV had since been removed from Ford’s arm, it's contents drained. All they could do now was wait while Ford screamed. He was awake now, but he wouldn’t be able to focus for a while.

“I hate this,” Maple said, her wings nearly touching the floor. “If he's like this, imagine what Stan must be going through.”

“Maybe not. Remember how he said he had a barrier?”

“There's no way he could block all this. Some of it has to be getting through. I wish we could check on or take care of both of them. I’m not even supposed to be here.”

“I asked you to help me. So, if he says anything, I’ll take the blame.”

He brushed a cold water soaked hand towel over Ford's face to try to combat the fever. “He's gonna dehydrate if he keeps sweating like this.”

“You can’t take the blame Dipper,” Maple said softly but full of fear. “You should go down stairs and get another IV bag. One for water. I don’t think he’ll be able to drink like this.”

“A saline solution would be a good idea. But I’d never get it in his arm with him moving around like this.”

“We could bind him.” Mabel said, still soft.

“I hate to do it, but you might be right. At least we wouldn't have to worry about him accidentally hurting himself. Besides maybe bruising his wrists and ankles.” Dipper sighed. “I’m going to go down to the lab and get a bag of saline, you tie his arms. If the doctor comes in, just tell him I asked you to watch Ford. keep wetting the cloth!”

Dipper left the room, leaving Maple alone. She brushed her fingers through his hair.

“I’m so sorry you have to go through this,” she whispered.“You shouldn’t be involved at all. Neither of you deserve this.”

Ford's only response was a hoarse moan. Maple patted his forehead with the towel. “You probably hurt your throat, screaming so much. When you're a little more awake, I’ll get you some throat drops. They taste really bad, but they work. Maybe I’ll toss them in some sugar first.”

She continued to muse to herself as she dabbed and changed the towel. “I know where all the sugar is hidden in this house so definitely could. Of course once you enter the final stage all your wounds will be healed so that’s something!”

She continued to finger comb his hair, giggling when he seemed to lean into it.

“I bet your mom does this when you're sick. I know I’d want that, if I had a mom. I bet yours is real nice. Does she make you cookies?”

She tried not to become too sad about it. She didn’t have mom but that was okay. She had Dipper and that made it better. She still couldn’t help wondering about it sometimes.

Wasn’t she supposed to be doing something besides changing his towel? Oh, right!

She pulled the wrist restraints from under the bed and buckled them around his wrists.

“This is just so you won't hurt yourself when Dipper puts the new IV in. I’m going to leave your ankles undone, okay? I don't think we'll need them.”

Maple didn’t really like quiet so she often talked to fill it. Which was probably why she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching.

“Just what do you think you're doing in here?!”

She spun around to see her 'Father’ standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

“N-nothing! Dipper was worried he was de-, getting thirsty! Cause he's sweating so much! He went to get something to help and asked me to watch him!”

“Don’t you have chores to be getting to?” It was pointed and said with a glare, that meant she better either not argue or have a good excuse.

“Y-yes, sir.”  She hoped she was remembering the titles right. Father is almost always the rule but when he’s made or has given an order, he wanted to be called Sir. He was definitely mad, so she hoped it counted.

She almost ran into Dipper, in her hurry to get away. “Be careful,” she warned, under her breath in passing. “He's in there.”

“Thanks.”

Maple nodded, before scurrying off.

Dipper hesitated at the door. Lately, the man was making him more and more uncomfortable. He didn't like the way he looked at Ford; like the boy were some kind of treasured pet. On good days, he could begrudgingly admit, that he liked what the doctor researched and studied, and could even go as far as saying he admired the man’s brilliance, but he always went too far. He never knew when to stop and was always crossing the lines. This latest obsession with Ford seemed to be crossing more line than usual and was a territory all of its own.

Chapter Text

Research notes of Dr. P. Allensen

Date: July 1, 1971

Time: 4:37 am

Subject #1’s transition has proven successful!

After another... infuriating conversation with his twin (I have to stop allowing that boy to get under my skin), I came to check in on Subject #1’s progression; finding him in the beginning of Stage 4.

Stage 4 finds the Subject beginning to show signs of rapid healing. The body begins to undergo rapid skin regeneration and cell division, causing the gases created during the healing process the leave the body in a visible, vapor like substance. An examination of the cuts from earlier experiments showed them to be the main source of the vapor, and healing quickly, appearing months old instead of mere days. This stage lasted approximately an hour and a half. Sometime during Stage 4, the fever from Stage 2 broke. Subject then entered Stage 5 of his transition. Having never viewed this stage in another Subject before, I found it quite interesting, though, I must admit, this gave me cause for alarm.

Subject convulsed for a minute, before entered what appeared to be the third phase of sleep, heavy sleep, of the REM cycle. With his eyes open. When I checked his eyes, I found the pupils to be dilating, as if by fright. Subject then screamed, and fell still. His eyes then began to appeared to shine, almost glowing a bright amber brown. During this time, he had no pulse or breathe. (Subject #2 screamed his head off during this part, and could be heard from the clinic. Though, granted, the clinic and his room are on the same floor.) It was fascinating to see, eyes that were dead, seeming to glow from within. I will admit to an uncharacteristic spike of panic, at this part. Had I come this far, only to fail? I could not remember, if I, myself, went through this part of the process, and none of my other subjects made it this far, so I had no data to compare it too.

My concerns were unfounded, however. After approximately a minute, Subject inhaled deeply, the ‘glow’ of his eyes fading, before his eyelids fluttered shut. He is currently asleep, and I suspect will remain so for at least the next twenty four hours. I had Boy hook up an IV of saline and nutrients, to combat possible hunger and dehydration.  (I admit, it was a good idea, for Boy to get a Saline Solution IV Bag. Subject would have definitely dehydrated otherwise)

Examination of the cuts on Subject's arm shows them to now be completely healed, showing no scarring. Examination also showed, that Subject’s throat had been healed, as well as the remaining burns from previous experiments.

Infusion of healing serum with Subject #2 will begin tomorrow. I must admit, I am looking forward to the possible results. Will he begin the transition as quickly as his twin? Will Subject #1 be able to sense the transition as it seems his twin was able to? Should the transition of both twins prove successful, it will add to the validity of my Final Project and its own chances of succeeding. I calculate I will be able to move forward with my Final Project very soon.

Chapter Text

    The first thing Stan noticed when he regained consciousness, was his throat hurt. The second, was that he could feel Ford at the back of his mind, asleep but not dead. He sighed with relief at that thought. He was sure he’d felt Ford die last night, and had been afraid that he would still be dead.

Maybe it was just a nightmare. Everything we've been put through just got to me. Especially with what the kids said about this 'fusion’ thing. But my throat probably wouldn’t be so sore if it was dream….

He laid in bed for a while, reassuring himself that Ford was still in the land of the living, that it took him a moment to realize his wrists were free.

He sat up and blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog from his brain. He shivered involuntarily.

I don't care if I never see fog again. Haze. Haze is a good word.

The soft knock on the door pulled him back to reality. A key turned in the lock, and Maple entered. Stan’s face broke into a grin. It was good to see her.

“Well, if it isn't Maple, the Fairy Queen. To what do I owe the honor, milady?” Guy, he hoped his voice didn’t sound as bad as it felt.

She laughed. “I brought you breakfast, you big goof.”

“What an honor. To be brought breakfast by her majesty herself!” Stan stood and performed a mock bow.

She grinned, playing along. “It's not much, good sir. Only some eggs and bacon. Not what a knight is used to or deserves, I’m sure.”

“A knight, huh? And here I thought I was the court jester.”

She sat the tray down on the bedside table. “Oh, no. You are most definitely a knight.” She giggled again, breaking character. “You're a lot of fun. If I had an older brother, I’d want him to be like you.”

“Well, I’m flattered kid,” Stan started, sitting back down on the bed. “But I doubt you’d want me for a brother if you got to know me.”

“Why would you say that? You're sweet, funny, kind, stupid brave, and you talk to me like I’m an actual person. Why wouldn’t I want you as a brother?” She listed off on her fingers before waving her hands in the air for enpythists.

Stan scoffed. “All I’m good for is throwing a punch, kiddo. Besides, of course I treat you like a real person, why wouldn’t I? You’re great.”

Maple blushed and looked down at her feet. She mumbled something Stan couldn't make out.

“I’m sorry I didn’t catch that.” Stan cupped a hand to his ear as he leaned closer.

“I said, 'because I’m not that great. I’m pretty useless.’ I’m a failure.”

“What liar told you that? Wait. I don't even have to ask. It was Creepenstein, wasn't it?!” Stan clenched his fists and just glared at the wall. “I really hate that guy. Kidnaps, me and Ford, tells you you’re useless and beats, both you and Dipper. I rea lly hate that guy.”

“Some-sometimes, he's not so bad. When we lived in upstate New York, there was this big tree in our backyard. He would let Dip and me play out there and even let us put up a swing. When Dipper pushed me, it was almost as if I was really flying.” She ended it with a wistful lite.

“You guys must've moved around a lot. But yeah I can get that. Being on a swing, with your twin is great.”

A ghost of a smile played over her lips. “Is it just you and Ford? Do you have any sisters?”

“We have an older brother. But we don't see much of him. He moved out a few years ago.”

“Three boys? You're mom sure had her hands full, huh?” She climbed up onto his bed, and sat cross-legged next to him.

Stan chuckled. “Yeah, she sure did. Especially with me ‘n Ford. I’m always getting us into trouble.”

“No! Not you perfect angels?” She said, a teasing note in her voice.

“You better believe it! We’re always getting into all kinds of mischief!” His wide grin faltered. “Or we were. It’s a… been a while since he’s done something like that with me.”

“Oh,” she frowned again. “Well, maybe he will once you two get out of here!” She plastered on her signature grin. “You’ll get out of here, and get to go home to your mom, and then you can cause as much trouble as you want!”

“Kid, I hate to be the downer. But, do you really think Ulcersen’s gonna just let us walk outta here?”

She giggled at the nickname before falling silent. “Probably not but as long as you don’t have the pacemaker there’s hope.”“Well, what about you? Got any hopes or dreams to keep you going? There’s got to be someway to turn that thing off, right?”

“I sometimes imagine I live on a farm and I get to take care of all kinds of animals. Especially pigs.” She uncurled so that she could swing her legs in joy. “I love pigs. Don’t know why but they’re so CUTE!” She squealed, curling back up and shaking with joy. “Besides, there’s lots of room on a farm. I could run around all I want. Sometimes I imagine running so fast I can actually leave the ground.”

Stan laughed. “You know what? I like pigs, too.” He picked a strip of bacon off the plate. “They're so tasty!” To show it, he took a large bite of the bacon.

“Eeewww!! You meany! How could you do that?!” She looked outraged, but her tone had no real bite.

“Like this!” He took another bite. Maple was so laughing hard, her face was nearly red. “Ma would've loved having a kid like you, for a daughter.”

Maple stilled and turned to look at him with honest curiosity. “What’s she like?”

“Ma? Biggest liar this side of the Hudson. She runs one of those phone psychic lines. But when she's not doing that, biggest worrier you ever met. She's got a big heart and just wants everybody to be safe.”

“Hmm,” Maple hummed with a smile. “She sounds nice.”

“Yeah,” Stan sighed before grabbing the glass of water and drinking deeply. Mentally preparing himself for the real question he wanted to ask. “How’s, uh ... How’s Ford?”

“Good, as of this morning. He's still asleep, though. Father says we can’t go into his room until he wakes up.”

“Wants to let him sleep? Probably the first decent thing he's done since I’ve been here.” Stan took another moment before continuing. “Did… did something happen to him last night?”

“He-Dipper told me he made it through the trans-i-mation. I don't know what all that means, though. How come? Does this have to do with you screaming really really loud?”

That explains the sore throat. “I don't know. For a minute, I couldn't tell he was there anymore. It was almost like he,” Stan swallowed hard. “Almost like he died. He was just, gone. Totally and completely.”

“That must've been super scary.”

“Yeah.” Stan swallowed again. “Yeah it was.”

“Does this mean you're okay with the whole 'twin link’ thing?”

Stan scoffed. “No. It doesn’t. This almost makes it worse.”

Maple dropped her feet off the edge of the bed and kicked them in the air. “I can see that. I don't want to think about losing Dip-Dop. He's all I’ve got.”

“And Ford was all i had. But not anymore right? Now you’ve got Dipper, and me, and Ford. So we can help look out for each other. Or at least, I can try to look out for all of you.”

Maple smiled back. “That’s why you’re the knight.”

Chapter Text

Dipper followed behind Allensen, half listening to the instructions he was being given. Allensen said he was leaving for an errand, and he and to make sure Dipper knew all the rules of the house(which he did) while he was gone, as while as having a list of both old and new chores to complete. Dipper wished the man would just leave, already! He had something important he needed to talk with Maple about, and he couldn't do it if there were a chance the scientist would overhear.

“...and check on Stanford every hour. He was still asleep, last I checked, but he should be waking up soon.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And keep an eye on your sister. I don't approve of the amount of time she's spending with the twins.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dipper frowned at that. He knew his sister had found a kindred spirit in Stan and considered him a friend. He had to admit, he liked the guy, too. He actually treated them both like they were worth something and not just failed experiments. He knew she had also found someone to believe in her, in Ford, and he didn’t want to take that away from her.

“I shouldn't be gone more than two hours; three at the most. In the meantime, make sure to get everything prepared for Stanley's infusion.”

“Will you be using the lab, or..?”

“No. One of the other guest rooms or the clinic should suffice. I’ll more than likely have to sedate him, anyway.”

“Wouldn't that interfere?”

“The impact should be minimal. I would prefer you move Stanford to Guest Room 3 or 4 when he awakens. Stanley should either be in Guest Room 1 or in the clinic for the infusion. Good Bye.”

After he was finally gone, Dipper ran back down the hallway. He had last seen Maple in Stan's room, so he decided to check there first. He knocked on the door, to hear Maple call, 'come in’. Maple sat on the floor with Stan, paper and crayons spread out between them.

“Hey Dip. Wanna draw with us?” Maple asked when he walked in.

“Not right now. I need to talk to you, Maple.”

“Okay.” She put her crayons down and waited.

“Um... privately?”

“Oh! Secrets! Right away Dip!” With that, Maple ran out of the room, and past Dipper, into the hall. Dipper paused to follow, looking back at Stan first. He gave the older boy a tight lipped smile before following Maple.

“What's on your mind, Dip?” Her wings fanned behind her.

“I want you to help me get Stan and Ford out here.”

“Ooooh. A rescue mission! Count me in! ”

“I knew I could count on you. First things first. Let's try and find a phone. The one in his office can't be the only one in the house.”

“Who are we gonna call? We don't know anyone!”

“The police, silly. They have to at least know Ford is missing, right? We just call and say we know where he is.”

“Dipper!” Maple's eyes went wide. “If we do that, he'll know who called! You know what he'll do!”

“You’re right, I didn’t think of that. Okay, well save that option as a last resort. But we should still search the house for other phones, and possible escape routes. One thing’s for sure. We can’t let them stay here.”

“I know. I don't want to see them get hurt anymore.”

“We'd better hurry then. We have maybe two hours, and he's doing Stan's infusion this afternoon. I really don’t even want to think about what he has planned after that.” Dipper suppressed a shudder.

“So we get going? I’ll search the top floors, you search the cellar. We can both search the main floor!”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Okay! Operation: Super-Duper Awesome Twin Rescue slash Escape is underway!” Dipper gave her a slightly confused look. “That's what I’m calling it. Now let’s move out! We’ve got an operation to accomplish!”

Dipper laughed, easily caught up in his sister's enthusiasm. “Let's do this!”

Chapter Text

    As Maple watched Dipper run back down the stairs, she wondered to herself where she should start. There wasn’t much variety on the second floor (her father refused to let her help decorate after the ‘glitter incident’, and he had no taste). There was only the Guest rooms and bathrooms, his office and the clinic. The clinic taking up most of the floor. Maybe she should start with the hall windows. Or she could start in the clinic. If she went to the clinic she could check on Ford! But she wasn’t supposed to disturb him. Or she could check the guest rooms and go and visit Stan some more…

No! Focus! Come on Maple Girl. You have to rescue them! Not hang out with them. They’re more important than boredom! Okay so, check the hall and the rooms as you go! Yeah that’s a good plan! Thanks, Maple!

    With this new determination in mind, Maple set out to search the second floor for means of escape. As she looked around she began to hy-pothis-what’sit.

    She could pull down all the curtains and throw that tacky vase out the window! Then she could tie the curtains and sheets together! They could rock climb down! Was it rock climbing if they were going to be scaling (hehe, scale) down a house? Oh wait, Ford probably wouldn’t be up for that yet…

She could raid the clinic storage closet and cause a large explosion of color! They could escape while everyone was distracted! But it wouldn’t last long… and she didn’t know how to do that…

She could knock her father out and then Stan could carry Ford to safety! But… they wouldn’t get very far and Father would be up pretty quick…

She could turn Ford’s bed into a sled and they could Ride it TO FREEDOM! No that would never work….

Maybe she could ask Stan?

That thought made Maple feel sorta guilty. She had just left Stan alone without a single word. She should probably go back and explain everything to him. But wait… why didn’t Dipper want to talk about this in front of him? Why didn’t he want Stan to know? They were going to be rescuing him after all, shouldn’t he know about that? Why would Dipper do that?

She paused and looked out the nearest window.

He must have a reason right? It’s Dipper, he’s always got a plan! He never does anything without one so he must have some explanation! Right? But then… why didn’t he tell me. Why didn’t he tell Stan? Why is he keeping things all bottled up and to his lonesome? Is he… keeping secrets? Is he keeping things from me? What would he not want me to know about? Does he not trust m---

No! Snap Out of it! You’ve got to worry about Stan and Ford now! Come on, think! You may be ocaulsionaly a Dummy-dumb-dumb but you have good ideas, if you can just focus! She refocused on the window she had been looking at. The window… that’s it! They could climb out the windows in the clinic and then slide down the roof to where it would be low enough and safe enough for them to get down!! They could even climb down the mini chimney (that Dipper says isn’t quite a chimney) that takes all the smoke away from the the stove! YES!

She had to tell Dipper! She should probably search the rest of the floor though. She should also write that down so she doesn’t forget it. Smiling to herself, Maple began to skip to where the spare paper was kept. She had used it many times for her drawing paper. She had to be careful about how much she took, though. Like all his 'supplies,’ her Father kept track (and count) of all of it. But two or three pages usually went unnoticed.

Carefully setting the paper down, she began to write down her Amazing idea. Then she began to sketch it! Then, because it was so much fun , Maple began to sketch all of her ideas on escape. She was concentrating hard on her ideas, unaware of how much time had passed, or the person coming up behind her.

Chapter Text

Maple tensed when she suddenly felt a had on her shoulder. Every muscle in her, going rigid. Wings fanned wide, in an ancient instinct to seem bigger then she was was. To distract the predator and get them to focus on something else. The flare knocked the hand off her shoulder but that didn’t dampen the fear growing with in her, at all, as Maple slowly turned back to see who had grabbed her.

Standing behind her, with a worry expression on his face, was Dipper. Maple sighed with relief.

“What the heck Dipper?!” She cried with false anger to try to cover the slight tremor still in her voice. “You Scared me!”

“Sorry,” Dipper apologized looking sheepish. “But what are you doing still up here, Maple? Please tell me you finished cause we really need to check the 1st floor! I thought you would be down there already but you weren’t.”

“I was, um…” She glanced down at the papers on the floor. “Making plans!”

Dipper raised a dubious eyebrow. “Really? You didn’t get distracted and start goofing off?”

“Yep!” She popped the ‘p’, as she started to gather up her paper. “Ye of little faith, I’ll have you know that I’ve spent this whole time drawing up amazing plans!”

Dipper picked up the paper. He looked over the one about climbing down the roof from the clinic window. “You know, this one might actually work. If the window wasn't painted shut.” Suddenly he was interrupted by a soft grunt and Dipper’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh, crud! I almost forgot to check on Ford!”

He and Maple looked over to where Ford lay. Dipper walked over and put his hand on Ford's arm. “Hey,” he said, gently. “How are you feeling?”

Ford's eyes were barely focused, “Like I went four rounds with Campetler and lost. Everything hurts.”

“Well, the good news is you'll be going back to your room this afternoon.”

Ford nodded blearily. Maple wondered if he was awake enough to understand what they were saying. “Do you think you can sit up? Maybe drink some water?”

Ford nodded and tried to prop himself up. Maple tried to help. “Easy. Go slow.”

It took a few minutes, but Ford managed to get himself in a sitting position.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Dipper asked bringing back one of the paper cups kept in the clinic, filled with water.

Ford blinked a few times. “Um. Being downstairs, tied in a chair. Getting thrown onto a lab table. A weird dream. I think.. Pain. Then...nothing till just now. How did I get here?”

“The transition should’ve started twenty four hours after infusion. Yours started almost immediately. The doctor brought you up here,” Dipper said.

“Transition?” Ford asked, confusion plain on his face. “What transition?”

“When you were down in the lab on the table, do you remember getting an IV put in your arm?’

“Barely. I believe it made my arm numb?” Ford looked around for an answer or confirmation.

Dipper nodded. “Yeah. That’s usually the first sign. The fluid in the IV bag was a serum that the doctor concocted from the DNA of an Axolotl, an amphibian that can regenerate from almost any injury. He has a stuffed one located in his office.”

“Ah,” Ford nodded. “That explains the dream.”

“Dream?” Maple asked with a tilt of her head(and wings).

“Yes. I had a strange dream about fog or smoke, the -what did you call it? Axolotl?- and Stan. It was one of those dreams, where everything makes sense while you’re having it, but makes no sense once you wake.”

Maple thought about that for a moment. “Stan kept drawing smoke…,” she mumbled, thinking back on Stan’s drawings from earlier. Dipper looked at her, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Drawings?” Ford asked confused.

“Do you think he saw it, too?” Dipper questioned, with eyes lit up, the way they always were when he was theorizing. “Ford, you said Stan was in the dream with you? Are you sure? Because if he was, that means it worked! Or at least partly.”

“What worked?” Ford asked even more confused. He looked sorta like an owl when he didn’t understand something. It was kinda cute and funny and Maple tried to suppress a giggle.

“When you were, well, I guess changing, you were running a high fever. Stan could feel it. He knew you were sick and tried to get to you, even though he could barely stand up. I think he was really scared you would die. We convinced him to use the link you’re developing to get to you that way. That way he could give you strength to make easier for you to survive the fever!”

Ford blinked, adding to the confused owl look. Maple really wanted to sketch him as one. “You mean, he was really there? In my mind?” Ford seemed to take moment to take this in. “This is… I don’t know what this is.” He looked at them. “Is Stan alright.”

Maple nodded. “Yeah, he’s fine! His throat is still a little sore and hoarse from screaming but he’s great otherwise!”

“Screaming? Why would he be screaming?”

“Oh, uh…” Maple shifted suddenly uncomfortable. “Well he could feel everything you could and… he couldn’t feel you at one point. I was actually, meaning to ask you about that, Dipper. Why couldn’t Stan feel Ford?”

Ford’s eyes scrunched close together, causing him to have those weird wrinkles on his head. “Well that doesn’t make any sense. I was probably in worse pain then Stan and my throat isn’t sore. Additionally, why would Stan feel distressed at not being able to feel me? He’s been shutting me out this whole time! ” Ford’s voice raised toward the end but it wasn’t quite a shout.

“He’s not shutting you out at all,” Maple said. “He’s shut himself off from you! ”

Both Ford and Dipper could only blink at her, their faces identical pictures of confused realization. It was Ford who broke the silence, though is voice was very hushed. “He’s doing what.” It didn’t sound like question but Maple answered anyway.

“He blocking himself from you. So he can still feel you but can't feel his thoughts or emotions. He,” Maple pause unsure if she should tell them. “He really hates the link. Especially after whatever happened last night.” She turned back to Dipper. “What did happen last night?”

“Well, Ford, the serum is for fast regeneration, so that’s likely why your throat isn’t sore. As for the rest….” Dipper scratched the back of his neck, unsure if he should say anything. But if Ford was ever going to understand how serious this was, he needed to know. “During the last stage of the transition, the person’s body has to basically restart. So, Ford, you kind of...died. For a minute.”

“I...what?!” Ford sounded like he tried to yell, but his voice came out more as a strained whisper.

“Not that you should worry. Everything was under control.”

The three of them looked to the door, to see Allensen standing there. When did he get back and how did we not hear him opening the front door or coming in? Maple wondered in terror.

“Boy, I believe I gave you a list of chores to do?”

“Yes, sir.” Dipper tugged at Maple’s arm. “Come on.”

Maple quickly scooped up her papers and went to follow Dipper.

“Oh and Girl?” Allensen calls back not looking.

Maple pauses in the doorway but doesn’t turn back. Instead she clutches her drawings closer to her chest and tries to quash her fear. “Yes?” she calls back, hesitantly. She’s surprised how cold and even it is.

“Hope I needn’t have to remind you on our conversation from before?” he questions. “Know, that if I ever catch you doing that again, I’ll make good on my threats.”

He doesn’t expand on what he said. He doesn’t state exactly what she did to offend him, or what it is he’s promising to do, and he doesn’t need to. Maple clutches the paper tight to her chest and runs out of the room, blinking away the tears stinging her eyes

Chapter Text

Allensen never once turned his head as he spoke to Maple. His head remained pointed at Ford, as his eyes focused on the wall to the side.  Ford wondered about the vaguely concealed threats that he had spoken of to her. What had he meant? What was he planning to do? What had Maple even done?

Allensen listened to the kids leave, then approached Ford. “How are you feeling today?” When Ford remained silent, he sighed to himself. “Not feeling up to talking? That’s all right.”

He checked the wounds on Ford’s arm. “These healed perfectly. I’d say the infusion was a success. Of course, I won’t know that for sure until after more tests.”

“Why are you doing this?” Ford said, quietly.

“I told you, Stanford. Human evolution has stalled. You and your brother will be part of helping it move, no, leap , forward.”

“Please don’t do this to Stan. I’ll help you! I’ll be your guinea pig! I’ll be whatever you need! Just don’t hurt him!” Ford fell back against the pillow, as if his outburst had drained all the energy from his body. “Don’t hurt him,” he repeated softly.

Allensen smiled as he combed his fingers though Ford’s hair. ”I don’t enjoy causing you pain, son. But sometimes, it’s unavoidable. Just know the worst of it is over.” He lifted Ford, almost gently, and started towards the door. “Let’s get you back to your room. You’ll be more comfortable there, I’m sure.”

Ford barely noticed that it seemed to take less reach time to reach his room than usual, before the door opened. He looked around the room, he was being carried into. Something was off about it. Then it clicked. “This isn’t my room,” he mumbled.

“No. It isn’t the one you’re used to,” Allensen agreed. “I thought it best you were closer to the clinic -however marginally- should there be any...complications.”

Allensen walked over the bed and laid Ford down. He then bent down and pulled out the hidden restraits. Before he could voice his morbid curiosity and concern, Allensen spoke up. “To keep you from harming yourself, or escaping, during the next transpiring events. For now I think it would be best if you got some more sleep.”

“I want to see my brother. I need to know if he’s all right.”

“That’s not possible right now.”

“Please? I just want to speak to him.”

“Perhaps later. Right now, you need to rest. But I will tell you he will be alright within the next twenty-four hours.”

Allensen reached into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled out a capped syringe. He carefully uncapped the needle and slipped it into the crook of Ford’s arm. “This is a mild sedative. It’ll help you sleep.”

“I don’t want...that...want to...see…,” Ford’s voice trailed off as the sedative did it’s job. I need to know that Stan’s okay now…

... need to know Stan’s okay….

Stan sat up when he heard his brother’s voice in the back of his mind. “Why do you need to know I’m okay, Sixer?” he said out loud.

He listened and waited.

Nothing.

Stan sweeped the papers and pencils and pens under the bed. He had been drawing and singing to himself to keep himself distracted from… everything, ( his thoughts ) since the kids ( I guess technically not kids, but it’s hard not to think of them that way ) left.

He was now seriously worried. He sat down on his bed, and began worrying his lower lip.

If Ford needs, to know I’m okay then he must be worried about me. But why would he be worried? And why isn’t he answering. Maybe… he can’t answer? Oh this is bad… why can’t he answer? Did Allensen do something?

Speak of the devil and he will appear… Allensen just opened the door to Stan’s room.

“Well, look who’s here. I don’t believe in the devil, but you’re making me reconsider.”

“I was going to ask if you were going to cooperate today, but apparently, that was too much to hope for.”

“Why should I make torturing me any easier for you?”

“So I don’t make it worse than it needs to be, or apply it to your brother?” Allensen supplied.

Stan fumed. The Creep had him there. “Fine. Just don’t hurt Ford any more than you already have.”

“Have you decided to cooperate?”

“Not like you gave me much of a choice.”

“No. I suppose not. Now, come with me. No. Walk in front of me. I don’t trust you at my back.”

“That’s probably smart,” Stan conceded, standing and walking to the door.

Allensen didn’t respond, but stepped aside to let Stan pass. Stan moved to go to his right, toward the nearest stairs, but Allensen stopped him. “No, I’m afraid we’re going to be in the clinic today. It’s to your left.”

“I’m not sure if I should be scared or impressed that you have a ‘clinic’.”

As Stan to turned in the correct direction, he thought about it to himself. “Probably both.”

Stan stood in the doorway, and looked around the room. It was very large and one whole wall was nothing but widows. Stan had to hand to the guy, it did look a lot like the inside of a clinic. It and a couple clinic beds with restraints, hooks on the wall a closet to the side, side tables for every ‘bed stocked with various medical supplies.

Allensen followed the teen into the room. “Go lie down and get comfortable.”

Stan stopped. “Yeah. That ain't happening.”

Allensen pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked put out and over all, done.

“I had hoped it wouldn't come to this,” he said, as he reached into his pocket. His fingers found something and pulled a damp looking rag. Before Stan could blink, Allensen had moved behind him, and had grabbed Stan around his chest, pinning his arms to his sides and pressed the rag over his nose and mouth. Stan tired his hardest not to breathe.

“You can't hold your breath much longer.”

Allensen tightened his grip around Stan's chest. The sudden constriction caused Stan to gasp, inhaling the chemicals. Straightaway, he noticed his sudden dizziness and lightheadedness. His legs buckled under him and he felt he might lose consciousness, but the rag was removed and he was hauled onto one of the nearby beds. He was promptly restrained, but he found himself quickly growing luccid again.

Huh. That’s odd. Usually I’m out cold. What’s this guy playing at?

“You may be wondering why you're still awake. I need you conscious for this.”

Damn Knowitall.

Allensen busied himself setting up some equipment. When he was done, he pulled the IV needle close to Stan's arm. “You may feel a slight pinch.”

He inserted it into Stan’s arm, and turned on the drip.

Chapter Text

Stan looked at the IV line as Allensen taped it down. “So. What's this shit?”

“Please try to watch your language.”

Stan rolled his eyes. The kids weren’t even around. What kinda maniac is fine with every known kind of torture but gets worked up over the most basic swears?

“Whatever. You never answered my question. If you’re going to fill me with it, you might as well say what it is.”

“All right, if you're going to press the issue. It's the same serum I gave your brother, yesterday. Special advanced healing formula made from the DNA of an Axolotl.”

“What's an Axolotl?” he was stalling and they both knew it. He would have started to wiggle out of the cuffs by now, but Dr. talks-too-much-but-not-enough must've strapped ‘em too tight. I’m losing feeling in my arm.

“A fascinating creature. Resembles a salamander but with gills on the outside of their body. They are blind and are only known to be found in one part of the world. But most of all, they have the most phenomenal of healing abilities. They can even regrow vital organs.”

“Well, thank you Mr. Wizard,” Stan said, sarcastically. He flexed the fingers on his right hand a few times, trying to get some feeling back in them. “Just what I always wanted. To be turned into part reptile.” He silently hoped, that wrong-fact-jab would get a good rise out of the jerk.

“Amphibian, actually. I do wonder if you act dumb on purpose. It would certainly explain your test scores when you are clearly smart enough to pass.”

“ You spend your life being compared to your genius brother, and see what it does to your motivation,” Stan grumbled. He flexed his fingers again. Dammit! What is going on?!

Allensen must have noticed. “Ah. I see the transition is already starting. Just like your brother. In fact, you might even be developing faster than him. Remarkable.”

“Yay, me.” Stan started to roll his eyes again, but the action was interrupted by a sharp pain in his arm. “ Ahh, ” Stan hissed tensing.

“Excellent. Now, you may experience some... discomfort. But that's perfectly normal.”

“Discomfort, my ass! This freaking hurts !” Stan growled through clenched teeth.

“Oh! You are admitting to being in pain! That’s a major improvement.” Allensen pulled a notepad and pen out of his pocket.  “You don't mind if I take notes on my observations, do you?”

Stan started to breath heavier. The room had suddenly gone from unbearably hot to freezing cold. Allensen noticed him starting to sweat.

“I see you're already entering Stage Two. I wonder if Stanford is sensing the transition yet? I’ll have to get Boy to observe.”

“You...leave him...alone,” Stan choked out. His eyes appeared glazed and unfocused. Everything was going that weird fuzzy, that only happens when he got punched too hard or had a fever.

Allensen chuckled to himself. “One way or another, I’ll break that wall you've built around yourself. You are not going to ruin this with your stubbornness.”

Stan started to laugh, but it turned into a yelp of pain. “Shows what...you know. My level of stubborn...is legendary. Only Ford can beat it and only...in anger.

“From my observations of the two of you, I'd have to agree. He does have a temper. Though, I think you still manage to beat him. Especially when you are defending him.”

“If you hurt him...I swear...I’ll use whatever superpowers I get out this...to end you. ”

“I’ll make a note of that. Though. Surely, you are not that self-destructive to fully harness rapid healing?”

Stan cracked a grin. “Try me.”

“Hmm...it would be interesting to see the effects of harnessed healing abilities. Perhaps I’ll try that. Though, perhaps now might be an opportune time to inform you, you might not survive the procedure.”

That gave Stan pause. “Huh,” he finally managed.

“I am cornered about the look in your eyes, upon hearing this information. One would think you would be more worried. Given how you reacted to your twin's heart stopping and threats of causing him harm. Though… I do have to admit, you have been rather- nonchalant I believe- about your own heath since you arrived….”

He continued to talk, but Stan began to tune him out as he fell into a heavy sleep.

Stan was surprised to find himself in the same place as last time. On ‘his’ half of the Stan O’War, which sat on the glass shard beach, with Ford’s half next to it though surrounded by fog mist. Between the two halves, sat the old swing set and behind that was the old cave. The mist was thick and blocked the surrounding area from view.

“Great. This place again.”

Stan hopped over the side of the boat, and went to sit on ‘his’ swing. He found it funny that his swing and his half of the boat were on opposite sides of the beach. He began to idly rock back and forth.

The light mist around him seemed to move, growing thicker around where he was standing. Wrapping around him, but not in suffocating mannar or one that would threaten his movements.

“ Stanley Pines.” A voice came out of the dark.

“Who's there?! Ford? Is that you?!”

“I am not Stanford Pines. I come with an offer.”

“Show yourself and then we'll talk!”

The mist around him shifted slightly to the side. It became a light shade of pink and took the shape of a gilled frilled(?) lizard. Maybe it’s a salamander type thing, looks like it would live in water .

“ Hello Stanley Pines. ”

Chapter Text

    Stan blinked at the strange pink ( mist )creature before him( around? ). “Hi,” he replied back, because he had really no idea of how to deal with this.

The creature seemed to smile, almost in a friendly manner. Stan really had no idea how to deal with this.

“You are quite perplexed, young one. Ask your questions. I will answer. There should be no cause for alarm.”

“What are you?” Stan stated bluntly.

“I’m the Axolotl.” It said with a wide, yet still friendly, grin.

Stan blinked. “The creature, the serum is made from, that is currently running through my blood? I’m talking to that ?”

“Not me, specifically. But, yes.”

“ Huh…” That seemed like it was a lot to take, and Stan wasn’t sure if it soaked in an’ didn’t affect him, or if it was just rolling off of him. He shook his head, to get back to focusing on the main point of discussion. “You said you had an offer?”

“Yes. I come with an offer of peace. An end to your suffering.”

Stan paused as he thought about this. That didn't sound so bad. Unless….

“You're talking dying, right?”

Axolotl laughed. “Just like Stanford. He caught on quickly as well. You are both quite clever for being so young.

I gave this offer to Stanford as well.”

It was quite tempting in all honesty. It also wasn’t the first time he’d thought of it. It always seemed so extreme at the time. Especially when in a few years he would be on a boat and able to leave it all behind.

“You wouldn’t have to worry about Allensen or bullies anymore. You wouldn’t feel to need to prove yourself. No one would call you worthless again. It would stop hurting. You wouldn’t have to feel any kind of pain, ever again.”

It did sound nice, to just be at peace forever. To be in a place of calm and never have to deal with any of that again, but he had to know. What would happen if he lived.

“And if I say no?”

“You will undergo the worst pain imaginable. You will suffer immensely for a great many years. You will face a threat far worse than Allensen. The pain he caused you, will seem small, compared to what is to come. Are you sure you want that? It may be better, but it will not be pleasant.”

“‘Least your honest.” Stan grumbled.

That sounded justifiably awful. Dying did seem like a better option. He wouldn't be a screw up anymore if he was dead. But…

“What about the others? Dipper, and Maple, and Ford? What about them?”

“I have already given this offer to Stanford. He choose to live. The one’s known as Dipper and Maple will get their choice soon. It is up to them what they decided. As it is up to you.”

Of course Ford would turn this down. Good for him. He’s got a reason to live. He could change the world if he wanted to. He shouldn’t choose death. As for Stan… his reason for life is Ford. he couldn’t abandoned him but… it sounded almost too good to be true, or turn down. Maybe it was.

“There’s no catch to this right? No trick that comes with choosing death?”

This creature didn’t sound like a conman, trying to land a score by convincing him to die, he sounded like he was being honest and really leaving it up to him. He still had to make sure.

“ No, no catch.” The Axolotl was definitely grinning at him. “ What I promise is true. Peace of the soul for as long as you wish it. You would be free in the truest sense of the word. Free of your body, free of society, free other’s opinions and cruel words. You would be with me. Until you were ready to come back, if you ever are.”

He wanted to say yes. He so badly wanted to say yes. Somewhere, deep down, he knew it was the best option. Only one thing stopped him.

“What happens to Ford if I leave?”

“ I can’t tell you much, but I can tell you that he will likely suffer alone. Your decision?

Stan took a deep breath and let it out in a hopeless sigh. As much as he wanted to go with this creature, he knew he couldn't abandon Ford to the hands of that psycho. He couldn’t let Ford suffer alone, no matter what happened to him.

“Well I guess I really don’t have a choice do I ?! I can let Ford go through that alone, I just can’t! I’ll choose to stay. I’ll stay, so I can protect him.”

“A warrior's spirit of a protector, like your brother. Very well Stanley Pines. I’ll leave you with my power to help you through your choice. I hope it aids you well and you never regret it.”

Stan chuckled as the mist began to drift away. “I’ll probably regret it everyday, of the rest of my life, but if Ford’s okay, than it doesn’t matter. I’ll stand by this choice. ”

The Axolotl’s smile turned sad. “ Goodbye, Stanley Pines. May it be awhile before we meet again. ”

“Goodbye, Weird Salamander.”

He swore he heard the creature laugh before it faded away completely.

Chapter Text

    Ford had come to the assumption, that he was now , thoroughly, and completely, lost. Ever since Allensen had given him that sedative, he had been walking around in(quite literally) a fog. Occasionally, a landmark would pop up(it was always something from either his or Stan’s memories), but they would quickly fade back into the fog. He also wasn’t sure if it was helpful, because he was near positive, they were either moving, or had duplicates(one for his and one for Stan’s). Likely both.

He looked down when he felt his feet touch familiar sand. Further down, he could just make out two silhouettes in the fog. Perhaps that was sign he was finally going in the right direction. As he got closer, he heard the deep voice of his twin, and saw one or perhaps two figures. Thank goodness!

He picked up his pace and started to run, reaching the end of the beach just as one figures faded away. The silhouettes turned out to be the the two halves of the Stan O’War, with Stan sitting between them on the swing set. He yelled Stan's name as he tackle-hugged him, sending the swing back. He couldn’t help himself, he had been so worried and he felt he had been losing his mind , lost in the fog.

“Whoa, Sixer! There's a tackle Roger Finnie would be jealous of. What brought this on?”

“I’ve been lost here for… well, I’m not sure how long, really. It felt like days! I was going insane!” He almost started shaking Stan at the end.

“Geesh, Sixer, calm down! It’s okay! Your fine now,” Stan tried to calm but that only brought the worry back to the front of Ford’s mind.

“Stan, are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened ?!”

“I’m fine Ford. Dr. Weirdo hooked me up to some kind of potion or whatever, and I ended up here talking to a giant salamander.”

“It must be the same serum he gave me. He said it's an accelerated healing formula.”

Stan nodded. “Uh huh. Well I talked to that thing, it left, and now you’re here. So that’s everything, unless you want me to fill you in on what happened while you were out.”

“No. If you met with an Axolotl, I can pretty much guess what you talked about. What did you choose?”

“Oh that wasn’t what I meant when I said I would fill you in, but alright.” Stan shrugged. “I think you can guess my choice, Poindexter.”

“You chose to live?” Ford asked, rhetorically. “That’s excellent!”

Stan looked down at the sand. “...Yeah, excellent. I guess it is.”

It was only then, when Ford tried to read him, that he noticed that Stan felt awfully false. Just like last time.

“Stan,” he asked softly, standing up and sitting in other swing. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to know what went on when you were basically dea- I mean asleep.”

“You don't have to sugar coat it. The kids told me I was dead for a few minutes.”

“It was a minute, you just flatlined, and again, not what I was talking about. You were out cold since that happened. It’s the evening of the next day now.”

“That long?! Tell me everything...wait. How did you know? You felt it, didn't you?” Ford wondered. “Maple said something about your throat being sore from screaming, and that you were somehow, ‘blocking yourself’?”

“Uhhhah…” Stan nervously laughed, obviously trying think of a quick lie. It seemed he didn’t need to when he suddenly cried out, falling out of the swing.

“Stan!” Ford went to his knees beside him as he fell. “It-its just the serum taking effect. Just breath. You'll be fine!” He was more trying to reassure himself, than Stan, but it seemed to be working.

“That thing was right! It feels like Joe Frazier is using my lungs as punching bags!”

“It’s okay, you’ll be okay, you’ll be okay. You’re going to be okay!”

Stan cracked a grin at Ford, despite the pain. “I know that Sixer.”

They were both starting to fade, and lose tangibility as Stan’s pain grew. Strangely, Ford didn’t feel any pain at all. Is this what she meant, when she said, Stan was blocking himself ?

“Stan, let go! I can take it! You don't have to suffer alone!”

Stan was already gone.

Ford awoke with a gasp. “Don't shut yourself off, Stanley. I’m here. You're not alone. You don’t have to face this alone.” He wasn’t sure if he said it out loud or in his head, or both. Either way, he hoped Stan heard him.

Chapter Text

Stan came back to himself with a hoarse yell. Everything hurt so frickin’ bad.

“Welcome back,” a mocking voice said near him.

“Screw...you!”

“...And you are still able to use to crude mouth of yours.”

‘...shut yourself off, Stanley. I’m here. You're not alone. You don’t have to face this alone…’

No! I’ll be...okay. You shouldn’t have to suffer more for this!

‘I’ve been through this already! I can take it! Please Stan, open up.’

“You seem to have made it to the beginning stages, of Stage Three,” Allensen spoke, unknowingly cutting in on the mental(one-sided) conversation.

“And...what...does that mean?”

Allensen’s smile was carnivorous. “It's going to hurt. A lot.”

“No … Kidding,” Stan panted through clenched teeth. It was difficult to pant and clench your jaw at the same time, but Stan managed it.

‘Stan, please! Let me help! No he’s not letting me in. Or himself out or anything! I can’t feel anything!’

Good! Stan thought ruefully. Oh, how it hurt.

“On the brightside, you have a much higher chance of surviving now.”

Guy, did this guy ever shut up? He clenched his fists as pain shot through his body. In the back of his mind, he felt Ford yelp(he thought he heard it too). Some got through.

Dammit! Concentrate, Stan! There has to be a away to set this on auto pilot or something! Picture the dam. The dam is sturdy, and strong, and won’t crack, or bend, or break, no matter how strong the waves that crash against it! it will hold and it doesn’t have any doors or secret entrances for stuff to leak out from!

‘Stan, don't shut me out! Shut you in! Where we go, we go together, remember?’

Not through this we don’t. Not through my emotions we don’t. I don’t want to go through those. I sure as hell don’t want you too!

‘What are you so afraid of me seeing?! Stan please! what ever your hiding it can’t be this bad! Let me in! Let me feel it! Dipper, I’m not sure if I’m making any progress!’

The pain became too much, Stan couldn’t help the loud cry that escaped him!

‘I can literally hear him screaming and I can’t. Feel. It! Dammit Stanley! Stop being so stubborn!

Wait! I think I know what this is about. Do you think I don't hear what others say about you? They only see what they want! They never see who you are! It’s just like what you say about me! We’re better than them! What they say doesn’t matter!’

Stan decided he was going to start ignoring Ford’s thoughts. They would keep coming, and he didn’t want to block them, so he’d ignore them.

He blinked a few times as he tried again, to focus on his surroundings, while letting Ford’s ‘voice’ fade into the background. Great, Allensen’s still talking. He’s giving some kind of lecture. On DNA. Maybe I should tune him out, too. But then I’d have nothing to focus on.  He repeats himself a lot. Uh huh, pain, pain, more pain, future of the human race, fusion, improvement of evolution, pain, uh huh, yep. Got that already. Ford was getting increasingly desperate, forcing Stan to start focusing on him again. He was talking to Dipper. Oh, and now Maple.

'No. Now he's ignoring me completely. ... Okay. How do I do that?’

What are doing, Ford? He made a conscious choice to allow that through.

'Proving to you that you're not alone.’

Hell no! You stay out of my head, Ford!

Stan shut the dam again. And tried to ignore everything. He couldn’t ignore the pain. It hurt worse than anything ever had. If this wasn’t the ‘greatest pain imaginable’ than he didn’t know what was. He was going to black out soon at this rate. It just kept getting worse.

‘...Dam! … No there is a literal dam blocking my way! I can’t get in!’

Ford’s voice was rather grounding. It helped him focus and reminded him that there was something other then pain. Stan felt rather thoosed by it. Stan always found it rather calming. He could enjoy listening to Ford’s nerd babble forever but not actually hear a word of it. He still couldn’t let Ford in, but maybe… he could just listen.

Ford? …. Could you… keep talking.

Chapter Text

Ford awoke with a gasp. “Don't shut yourself off, Stanley. I’m here. You're not alone. You don’t have to face this alone.” He wasn’t sure if he said it out loud or in his head, or both. Either way, he hoped Stan heard him. He stared desperately at the ceiling waiting for … something from his twin. Nothing.

“Are you trying to talk to Stan?” A voice asked to his side, that he registered belonged to Dipper.

Ford nodded.

“ I’ve been through this already! I can take it! Please Stan, open up.”

“He’s not letting you feel it is he?” Ford shook his head. Still nothing from Stan.

“ Stan, please! Let me help!” Ford begged. He still hadn’t realized he was talking out loud.

“Are you getting through to him?”

“ No, he’s not letting me in. Or himself out or anything! I can’t feel anything! ” Ford thrashed at the end of his scream! Why wasn’t he letting him in? He could help! He could comfort! Why wouldn’t Stan let him feel it too?

“Maybe, I can think of something for you to do to get through! Just give me a minute.”

Ford nodded. Suddenly pain shot through him. He couldn’t stop the yelp that escaped him. But as soon as it was there, it was gone, barely even leaving a memory. He could barely feel Stan at all now. He must have reinforced his mental block.

“Stan, don't shut me out! Shut you in! Where we go, we go together, remember?” It was a bit of a low blow, considering Ford knew how much that meant to Stan but he was running out of options! He had to get Stan to listen to him somehow! He couldn’t go on like this!

'...Not through this we don't! Not through my emotions we don't…’

“What are you so afraid of me seeing?!” Ford asked very confused and desperate. “Stan please! what ever your hiding it can’t be this bad! Let me in! Let me feel it!” He could already tell he was going to get through like that so he turned back to Dipper. “Dipper, I’m not sure if I’m making any progress!”

Suddenly a scream erupted from behind the far wall. Ford recognized it as Stan’s.

“I can literally hear him screaming and I can’t. Feel. It !” Ford put more emphasis on every word with a growl. “Dammit Stanley! Stop being so stubborn!”

Suddenly it hit him. “Wait!” Stan was always being called a stubborn knucklehead( by him ) and worse. Was that what was bothering him?

“I think I know what this is about. Do you think I don't hear what others say about you?” Of course he herd. He was always there! The jeres were bad, but Ford never thought they were ever bad enough to get to his brother. They were wrong anyway! “They only see what they want! They never see who you are! It’s just like what you say about me! We’re better than them! What they say doesn’t matter!”

Ford tried to smile even though his brother couldn’t see it. “You are so much more than that! They were just being cruel for the sake of it! You shouldn’t listen to them! Your incredible! You memorized all our books on Boat care! You-” Ford cut himself off, getting the sense that Stan wasn’t listening.

“Any luck?”

“Stan? Stanley are you listening to me? Stan?” Ford let out a half sigh, half puff of air. “No.”

“Maybe Maple will know what to do. She’s better at emotions.”

“That’s a good idea, Dipper.”

Dipper quickly hurried out of the room. While he waited for Dipper to return, Ford began trying wackier and wackier ways of gaining Stan’s attention. It was only a few minutes before Dipper was back with his sister.

“Okay, I’m here. Fill me in.”

“I’ve been trying to get Stan to open up to me, because he shouldn’t suffer alone , but no luck,” Ford replied.

“Has he showed a response to you at all, lately?” Maple inquired.

“No. Now he's ignoring me completely.”

“Well, why don’t you try to visit him?”

“What,” Dipper asked.

“You know, like what you told Stan to do. He goes into his own mind to visit Stan’s.”

“That’s a great idea, Maple!” Dipper cried, throwing his arms around her. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Maple shrugged.

“Okay.” Ford nodded, mentally preparing himself for whatever he had to do. “How do I do that?”

“Well, this is very different from what Stan did so…” Dipper thought for a moment. “Imagine that both your minds are islands and the link is a bridge between them.” Ford closed his eyes as he focused. “Now imagine yourself walking along it.”
    It was surprisingly easy to imagine and visualize. A land bridge, surrounded by fog, connecting two islands.

‘What are doing, Ford?’

The thought was so sudden and so clear, that Ford almost lost focus. His mental projection wobbled on the small strip of land.

“Proving to you that you're not alone,” Ford thought with determination, moving to run down the path.

‘Hell no! You stay out of my head, Ford!’

Ignoring that, Ford continued to run. Soon he came across a large wall. “A ... a…” As Ford neared it, saw what it actually was. “ Dam. ” the word came out a sad sigh.

“Language!” He heard Maple call.

On better circumstances, Ford might have found it funny. “ No there is a literal dam blocking my way! I can’t get in!”

Ford began to walk the length of the dam, looking for a sign of weakness or possible way of entry, but it was flawless. The vents were narrow and so far above his head, that Ford had no hope of reaching them. The wall was so smooth, it could only be made up from the finest form of cement. Ford would have found it impressive, and would have been quite proud of his brother, for creating such a piece of architecture, had it not been keeping him from said brother.

‘Ford?’ Stan’s voice seemed to emanate from the dam itself. Despite that, it seemed small, almost hesitant. Ford waited. ‘Could you… keep talking.’

Ford was so completely floored, that all he could do was stand and blink. He never expected such a request. After a minute, he smiled.

‘ Of course, Stanley. ’

Chapter Text

“ Is there anything specific you want me to talk about? ”

'No. At this point, I’d even listen to your nerd babble.’

Ford laughed. “Okay.”

Before he could begin on an oceanography lecture, something he knew Stan secretly loved, he started to notice a droning sound. It sounded like a very large swarm of bees.

“ What's that ?”

‘ Oh, that's the psycho. Geez, this guy loves the sound of his own voice.’

“ What's he saying ?”

‘ The usual. How we're the future of humanity, how our pain is all worth it, blah blah blah. He sounds like one of those Bond villains.’

    “Heh. That sounds like him. I still can't believe how easily I fell for his rhetoric.’

    ‘Me neither. Why did you fall for it, Ford?’

    “Oh, um… how about I ask the Dipper and Maple what I should talk about?”

'Now who's blocking?’

“Very funny. But I have been talking out loud this whole time, so they might as well be included.”

“I know a few nursery rhymes,” Maple supplied, as Ford opened his eyes.

“That could work. What have you got, Maple?”

“Um...let's see… oh! Hey, Diddle Diddle, and Humpty Dumpty and… How about a Wise Old Owl! It’d be perfect since you look so much like an owl, Ford!”

Ford laughed. “Well, that's one I haven't heard.” He felt Stan laugh as well. “I think we agree on 'Wise Old Owl’.”

    “Okay!” Maple took in deep breath before she began.

    “ A wise old owl lived in an oak
The more he saw the less he spoke
The less he spoke the more he heard.
Why can't we all be like that wise old bird? ”

She began to hop around as she sang the next verse.

“ A wise old owl lived in an oak,
The more he saw, the less he spoke
The less he spoke, the more he heard,
Now, wasn't he a wise old bird? ”

    Dipper was soon clapping along with his sister as she continued to dance and sing.

“There was an owl liv'd in an oak
The more he heard, the less he spoke
The less he spoke, the more he heard.
O, if men were all like that wise bird.

Everybody!! ”

    She cried before starting the song over, getting everyone in the room to join her. Soon she began to change the lyrics.

“ There was an old Owl who Lived in a Pine.

The more he heard, the more he’d mime.

The more he mimed, the more he heard.

Wasn’t he a fine old bird?”

'Come on, kiddo. If you're gonna make it about Ford, you gotta change 'bird’ to 'nerd’!”

“ Stan says to change the ‘bird’ to ‘nerd.’” Ford informed them with a half hearted frown.

    “That’s perfect!”

“There was an old Owl who Lived in a Pine.

The more he heard, the more he’d mime.

The more he mimed, the more he heard.

Now, wasn’t he a fine old nerd!”

Stan started laughing, but it was cut short by a cry of pain. The cry could be heard through the wall.

“ Stan?! Talk to me! What's happening?!”

‘I’m fine. Keep going.’

“He says 'keep going’.” How much longer was Stan going to keep this up?

“ Um, okay.” Maple looked nervous. “Should we change songs or…”

“How about 'Hey Diddle Diddle’?” Dipper suggested. “That's one of your favorite.”

“Yeah… I do love a good love story. And dish and the spoon are so perfect for each other. Through… maybe it doesn’t have to be a love story.” Maple mused with a faraway look.

And so it went. They continued to sing, switching songs every once in a while. Always ending with a change in lyrics. All of them enjoying themselves even with Stan occasionally screaming. That is until Stan just stopped.

He stopped existing. The mental dam had been fading but now, not only was it gone. But the bridge was gone too. Everything was gone. Stan was gone.

Ford froze, stiff as a board not sure what to do. Cold dread, spread through him. Time seemed to slow to a standstill. It was like everything stopped the moment Stan did.

“Ford? Are you alright?” Dipper asked.

When he didn’t respond, Maple approached him. “Ford?” As she got closer she noticed his condition. “Dipper! I don’t think he’s breathing!”

Was he breathing? He couldn’t tell if he was.

Dipper hurried over and put his hand on Ford's chest. “He is. It's just really shallow. Ford, you need to calm down! Your breathing is too shallow, you’ll pass out!”

Would that be so bad? Maybe he wouldn't wake up. But he choose life so it seemed rather premature to die now. Did Stan actually choose life? Did he want to live?

'Easy, Sixer,” Stan's voice was soft, but it was there. “You're having some kind of nerd crisis. I’d help, but I think I’m going to pass out, so listen to the kids okay?”

“Stan?! Are you okay?!”

He didn't get a response, but he could feel Stan's presence in the back of his mind. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He could almost sob in relief.

“He's okay,” Ford said, more to himself than to the others. “We're okay. He’s actually okay .” He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

The kids shared a look. One way or another, they were getting Stan and Ford out of there. Tomorrow, they would search the first floor. But today, they all needed rest.

Chapter Text

Research notes of Dr. P. Allensen

Date: July 2, 1971

Time: 12:47 pm

Both Subjects have completed the transition. Of course, more tests will be necessary before I can call the transition a success. Subject 2 seemed to enter the process faster than the first twin, however, he stayed in the phases longer.

Subject #2 continues to vex me at every turn. I grow tired of his retorts and sarcasm. He’s recently taken to ignoring me. When I test the effects of the advanced healing serum, perhaps a sound lashing will remind him of his place?

The healing ability seems to manifested especially well in him. I had to remove his stitches during the process of the bonding so they would not cause any damage. The cut healed with only leaving the slightest mark.

Their desire to defend one another is something that can also be used to my advantage. If I can get Subject 2 to drop his mental defenses, I believe a telepathic link will be fully established.

They are both resting now, following the transition, so further testing is not possible at this time. No matter, I have some paperwork and errands to catch up on anyway.

I caught my assistants snooping, ruining supplies and distracting the subjects and each other. I may have to start keeping a closer eye on them.

Dipper watched from the second floor as Allensen left . He wasn't sure how long they had, but he wanted to make the most of it. He waved Maple over. It was late but they were used to long nights and days. They even had enhanced night vision, though they would still need to turn on the lights.

“Okay. Remember the plan? Anything that can help us get them out of here.”

“Got it, Dip.”

“We're running out of time. The experiments are going to get worse now that they can heal faster.”

Maple looked on the verge of tears. “They don't deserve this. Why’d he have to pick them?”

“He was obsessed with Ford long before he discovered he had a twin. That was just a bonus to him.”

Maple sniffled. “Dip. If we get them out, do you think we can we go with them?”

“You know we can't. I don’t think we ever could.”

“I don't care! I don't want to stay with him anymore!”

The tears began to fall as Dipper pulled her into a hug. “Maybe we can figure something out.”

Maple nodded and pulled away from the hug. Dipper could tell she didn't believe him. He didn’t either. “Let's head down. We already know what's in his office and the library. I’ll take the bedrooms and you check the kitchen and dining room.”

He walked towards the first bedroom. He knew he wouldn't find much in the small room they used. There was really only one room that had any hope of anything useful, and it was one place he definitely didn't want to go: the house's master bedroom.

“Maybe it's locked,” he thought as he approached the door, but groaned somewhat when it swung open easily.

The room was large, nearly twice the size of theirs, and was cleaned to an almost military standard. A large bed dominated the room with a night table standing close. A dresser with a mirror occupied the wall closest to what Dipper could only imagine was a closet. Another door lead to a private bathroom. The furniture was all sleek dark wood.

Dipper walked to the dresser, first checking the small bottles on a tray. He recognized a few of the names on the vials: One was a truth serum, one caused horrific hallucinations, one caused a person to feel like their blood was on fire. If he had these, it didn't spell good news for Stan and Ford. Dipper thought about sabotaging them, but he had no idea how to do that. He supposed he could flush them but that would be too obvious.

He saw one sitting on a note card. Very carefully, he lifted the vial and read the card:

P.,

You don't wanna know what I had to go through to get this. You owe me big. The boys at the Agency say this stuff works like liquid hypnosis and makes a person highly suggestible. Good luck.

~J.

Oh no. This is bad. Allensen was already obsessed with Ford. Did he plan on using this on him? For what purpose? Some kind of brainwashed pet? Dipper shuddered. He didn't want to think about that option.

After replacing the vial and note, Dipper made quick work of searching the rest of the room. The night table drawer turned up nothing, except a few adult magazines (gonna pretend I didn't see that) , the bathroom was equally disappointing. Dipper sighed dejectedly and turned to leave. As he passed the dresser, something coming from behind it caught his eye; a white cord. Excitedly, he followed the cord to the closet. Pulling it open, he gasped when he saw it; a telephone.

Chapter Text

Dipper carefully picked up the phone and brought the receiver to his ear. He nearly cheered when he heard the drone of a dial tone. He wondered if he should tell Maple, or go ahead with dialing of the operator.

He could be back any minute, Dipper reminded himself. Better just go ahead.

He quickly dialed the zero, listening to the clicks the rotary made. After a few rings the operator picked up.

“How may I direct your call?”

“I need the closest police department!”

“One moment, please.”

He heard a few beeps, then the line started ringing. After a few rings, someone answered.

“ Hello, children, ” the voice on the other end of the line answered. Dipper’s blood ran cold. “ I see you’ve found my decoy phone .” It was Allensen on the other end speaking.

“No! It's just me!” Dipper protested. “My sister isn't here! She doesn't know!”

“ I wonder which one of you managed to find it and to whom you were trying to call.” Allensen’s voice mused. “ If you haven’t already figured this out this is a recording. As soon as I return from where ever I have gone, I will likely question you both about this. Until then.”

The line clicked. Dipper dropped the receiver in a panic and raced out of the room. He ran through the house, calling Maple's name. She stepped out of the kitchen.

“Find something, Dip-?” Her question was cut off when she saw her brother’s panicked face. “Ohmygosh! What happened is he back?!” she panicked running toward him.

“H-he caught me! He knows!”

Maple's eyes widened. “How? Knows what?”

“I found a phone in his bedroom! I tried to call the police, but he must have it wired to a mobile antenna somehow! The call went straight to him!”

“Oh no!” Maple gasped softly. Before either of them could say anything more, they heard the front door open.

“I’m back, Children.”

Dipper quickly turned to his sister and began to urgently whisper. “Maple, you stay in here. I’m going to tell him you don't know about any of this.”

“But, Dipper-!”

“No 'buts’. I don't want to see you get in trouble over something that was my idea.”

Before he could do anything further however, Maple shook her head and ran to the front door, before Dipper could even process what she did.

“Maple! What are you doing?!” He raced after her, coming to a sudden halt in the foyer, nearly crashing into her.

“Hallo Father, welcome home,” she greeted warmly, ignoring Dipper entirely.

Allensen eyed her suspiciously. He didn't return her greeting. “Are the Subjects doing well?”

“Yes. Still resting.”

Allensen finished hanging up his coat with a nod to Maple. “I’m glad you’re both here. I have something I need to ask you about.”

“W-what would that be?” Dipper hated the way his voice shook, but he couldn't help it. He was already afraid, and the calm demeanor Allensen projected didn't help.

“This.” Allensen held out a normal looking blue pen, that Dipper had seen him wearing. The button was blinking red.

“What's that? Why is it blinking?”

“This,” Allensen pause to jester to device. “Is a modified radio receiver, designed to look like an everyday pen. It lets off a signal by blinking, whenever someone in this house has used a fake telephone I’ve set up. Could either of you explain to me why it’s going off?”

“I used it!” Dipper and Maple shouted at the same time.

“I used it!” Maple quickly hurried on. “I was curious and started looking around and I found it, so I wanted to see if it worked. Dipper’s- I mean Boy is just trying to cover for me! But I’m the one that played with it!”

“No! I was me! Map-uh, Girl is covering for me! I tried to call..” He stopped before he could say who he had been trying to contact. They were both in enough trouble. If Allensen found out he had tried to get Stan and Ford rescued...he didn't want to think about it.

“The way you two try to take blame for each other. It used to be sweet, now it's just annoying. I suppose I’ll have to listen to the tape to ascertain the guilty party.”

“Tape?”

“Yes. The telephone is also wired to a recording device that plays back a recorded operator's message and records the voice of the person attempting to make a call.”

He walked out of the entryway and started toward his bedroom.

“I was trying to call the police!” Dipper yelled out. Allensen stopped and looked over his shoulder.

“And why, would you wish to do something like that?”

Realizing what he'd just confessed to, Dipper stood, wide eyed and frozen in fear. Allensen turned back to look at them.

“I believe I asked you a question?”

“He...called… because their was a burglar!” Maple supplied. “Yes. A person broke into the back yard and… knocked stuff over and we panicked so when we found the phone we decided to call the police! He left before you got home. Me and Boy just finished tidying up! Yes that’s what happened.”

“Is that your story?” The kids nodded in unison. “Very well.”

He returned to near the door and picked up a plain box neither of them had seen before. “I have a few preparations to make for tomorrow's testing. My Subjects should be waking up soon, and will most likely be quite hungry. I think a meal is in order. Boy will prepare it of course. I don’t think you two should eat until morning.”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused. Dipper skulked off to the kitchen. He absently wondered where his sister had learned to lie that well.

Chapter Text

Stan was startled awake by a knock on his door.(or, he guessed, the door, since he was still in the ‘clinic’.) He groaned as he sat up, surprised that he didn't feel any of the aches he usually experienced. Must be that stuff Ulcer-sen pumped into me.

The knock came again. Stan grinned. “Come in, kid.”

The door opened to show Maple. Her eyes were on the floor and her wings drooped.

“Well, good morning, Your Highness,” he said, falling into their usual game. “Trouble in the royal Queendom?” Maple didn't respond. Stan frowned. “You okay?”

She sniffled and looked up, sitting the breakfast tray she was holding on the bedside table. “After you eat, I’m to bring you down to the lab.”

“I’m not touching anything ‘til you tell me what's wrong.” He crouched down in front of her, and put his hands on her shoulders. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“My father expects you in the lab at nine o’clock. It's eight-fifteen now. You should hurry.”

Stan sighed as he stood. He didn't know what had happened to make Maple act this way, but he had a good idea about who had caused it. It made him hate the man more than he already did. A monster like Allensen didn't deserve these kids.

“I’m not very hungry this morning.”

“Okay.”

    “I suppose you should take me down there, if you have nothing you want to talk about?”

    “I suppose so,” she muttered turning back to the door. Before she opened it, faced him again and said with a sad but honest smile, “Thanks for teaching me how to lie properly.”

“I’m not sure if that's a good thing or not. But you're welcome.”

“Follow me, please.”

She lead Stan down to the lab. Allensen was already there. He looked up from his work bench when they entered.

“Oh. Here early. I trust this Neanderthal-insectoid didn't give you any trouble?”

Stan stopped. “The what?” He deadpanned. He recognized that words but couldn’t remember what it meant. Some kind of bug and… wait. “Are you talking about her?”

“ Both she and her brother have become quite rebellious of late. However their attempts are quite crude. Hence, the Neanderthal reference.”

Stan didn't even realize he'd moved, until his fist collided with Allensen’s jaw.  He felt, more then saw, Maple jump from the corner of his eye. Allensen was sent reeling back from the force of the punch. He didn’t fall though. He slowly, raised a hand to his jaw, looking completely shocked. He wiggled his jaw a little before raising his other hand to his mouth.  Stan was proud to see the bastard spit a tooth out.

“ Don’t talk about them that way. ”

Allensen’s lips curled into a cruel smirk. “Girl. Go upstairs and tell your brother to bring Stanford down here.”

Stan’s eyes widened. “Oh, hell no!” He made to dash back up the ramp, after Maple, but before he could make it to the door, the jerk had grabbed ahold of the back of his shirt and yanked him back. He was strapped to a chair before he had fully recovered. Not even bothering to hide his attempts, Stan quickly began to start working on the cuffs.

“I would suggest you stop that, it will make things worse for the both of you.”

Stan’s reply was a harsh growl.

“...he didn't tell me. He just said to bring you down.” Maple’s voice could be heard echoing down the hall.

Growling again, Stan thought as hard as he could, Stay away! Don’t come down here!

“Wait!” He heard Ford's voice. “Something's not right.”

Get out of here, Ford! Don’t come down here! Leave! Hurry!

“Stan! Is that you?! Are you alright?!” He heard Ford's steps on the stairs quickening.

NO!NONONO NO!!! DON’T GO DOWN THE STAIRS!! LEAVE! GO IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION OF DOWN!!

But it was too late, Ford burst through the door to the lab before Stan even finished. Ford rushed over to where his brother was tried.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

Stan sighed. “You just had to come down here didn’t you.”

“What was I supposed to do? Leave you?”

“ Yess .”

Before Ford could respond to that, Allensen had moved and was suddenly yanking him up and slamming him into another chair. Ford blinked as he was strapped down.

“I think that little reunion lasted long enough. Let’s get back to business shall we?” Allensen said curtly, brushing his hands off as he stood.

Chapter Text

“I had something else planned for today,” Allensen said, as he walked to his work bench. “But, I suppose I can go ahead with a different experiment.”

He picked up a syringe and filled it with a yellowish colored liquid. “An old classmate of mine helped me acquire this.” He crossed to where Ford was tied and felt for a vein in the boy's arm. “He works with the CIA on some program they have going. Mind control, or some such nonsense.”

“Are you missing a tooth?” Ford asked. He heard Stan snicker from where he sat. Allensen stood quickly.

“No interruptions!” he yelled, backhanding Ford. Ford blinked a few times and looked on the verge of blacking out. Allensen took advantage of the distraction by injecting the liquid into the boy's arm.

“I’ve been told the hallucinations this can cause are quite... horrifying. It should take about twenty minutes for this to take full effect. I’ll return then. In the meantime, you two...behave.”

    They watched him leave, before Stan turned to Ford  and said, “I’m sorry about this, Sixer. Though if you had listened, we might have been able to ‘least postpone this.”

Ford looked up, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “Who's there?”

Stan groaned. “And he already injected you with stuff so you probably can’t hear me, and there’s no real point in escaping either.”

“Get away from me!” Ford suddenly yelled.

“And since you're drugged, now you’re hallucinating and I probably can’t do a thing ‘bout it. Wayda go, Stan. All because you couldn’t hold your temper.”

Ford started to pull at his restraints, trying to get away from something only he could see. “Don't! Don't hurt me! Where's my brother?! What did you do with him?!”

“Uggh it’s worse than watching you have nightmares,” Stan muttered to himself, before trying to get through to Ford. “Ford! It’s not real! You’re hallucinating! I’m right here !” Just to be safe, Stan repeated the message through the link.

'Stan! I can't see you! Where are you?!’

I’m right here, Sixer. I’m still in the chair in the basement, you never left. The guy gave you something to make you see things, but I’m still here.

An idea popped into Stan’s head. Here, I’ll show you. With a great deal of concentration , Stan shifted his current view through the mental link .

'He wants to take me away! He says I’ll never see you again!’

Are you having a nightmare based on your subconscious or mine?

    Nevermind. You’ve got to try and calm down. Once you do, focus on what you’re seeing, and imagine sending that image to me. I want to know what’s happening.

'It's too dark! I can't see anything!’

Then focus on your senses and what sensations you’re experiencing.

'Voices. Saying things. He says I’ll never find you! Stan! Help! He's going to catch me!’

Ford began to breathe heavily, as if he really were running from something.

Stan groaned when he heard the lab door open. Sure. Why not add him to the mix? This day just keeps getting better.

Allensen stepped into the room. He glanced at Ford. “I see the hallucinogen has taken effect.” He ran his fingers through Ford's hair. “I wonder what you're seeing?”

“Stop touching him!” Stan yelled.

Allensen turned and looked at Stan, almost disinterested. “Need I remind you, that you're in no position to make demands?”

“I don’t care if I am or not. You shouldn’t be touching ‘im!”

He moved behind Ford and put his hands on the boy's shoulders. Ford visibly tensed. “And why is that?”

“First off it’s beyond creepy. Second, no one should be touched like that in that kind of way, and third, you definitely shouldn’t be touching Ford like that! It feels perverted to watch.”

Allensen laughed. He crossed to Stan and swiftly grabbed the boy's throat. “Understand something right now. Anything that happens to him from now on, is because of you! You misbehave, he feels pain. The same goes for you, but since Ford's such a good little pet, he won't act out if he thinks you're in danger.”

“Yeah, I got that.” Stan grumbled with a hard glare.

“Good boy.” Allensen let go of Stan's throat. “I don't enjoy causing my little pet any undue pain.”

He’s not your pet! Stan thought viscously but said nothing.

“Now, since you don’t seem to be having any change due to your twin’s condition, let’s move on to my original plan for today.”

“Yippie,” Stan mumbled, sarcastically.

Allensen had moved back over to his work table and was picking through the items littered about. He pulled out a scalpel. “We’ll be doing a more… intense sesion of what we already did.”

Stan's eyes widened. Allensen smiled, cruelly. “Is that...fear I see on your face?”

“Eh,” Stan tried his best to shrug. “Doubtful. I’m just shocked you’re repeating yourself. I thought you were all about the new. It’s surprising to see you go back to something I thought we were done with.”

“Scientific method is all about measurable results, Stanley. Sometimes, experiments have to be repeated to achieve those results.”

    “Besides,” he began striding toward Stan as talked. “What we’re going to be doing to day, is a bit different.”

“How different?”

“I won’t be measuring your pain today.”

“Haven't you done enough to him with making him see things?!”

Allensen paused. “Who said anything about doing anything to him?”

Realization hit Stan. “No! Not the kids!”

“What makes you think I’ll be going after my assistants? I said I won’t be measuring your pain and I won’t. You will, however, still be the one experiencing the pain. I just won’t ask you to rate it.”

Stan visibly relaxed once he knew the kids were out of danger. “Fine.”

If he does anything to me, Ford's not going to feel it anyway. It'll be okay. This won’t be so bad as long as I can hold out. And I managed to hold out through the serum and dying so this shouldn’t be too hard.

Allensen rolled up the sleeve of Stan's shirt and pressed the scalpel's blade against his bicep. “Ready to begin?”

“Sure. Go nuts. Oh, nevermind. You're already nuts.”

Chapter Text

Ford wandered through the darkness. He couldn't see anything, but he could hear the whispers. Voices taunting him, saying he'd never get out, never see his brother again. He felt so unbelievably sacred, that he almost believed them. They kept grabbing him and pulling him in the wrong direction and all he wanted was to get away and find his brother.

‘...not real!...I’m right here…’

“Stan?! I can't see you! Where are you?!”

‘...right here, Sixer… …. the basement, you never left…. I’m still here.’

Stan kept fading in and out like a radio show with a bad signal. It scared Ford more, cause what if it wasn’t real or he never found him? He could be in trouble and Ford would never be able to get to him!

Ford blinked and suddenly, he was seeing himself, still tied to the chair in the basement. He blinked again and he was back in the darkness. Was that what Stan is seeing?

Another voice came out of the darkness, one he had come to fear. 'You belong to me now, Stanford. You'll never see your dear brother or your family again.’

“He wants to take me away! He says I'll never see you again!”

Allensen's cruel laughter echoed around him.

‘...a nightmare based on your subconscious or mine?

Ford paused. Was this his nightmare? It felt so real, but it wasn’t what he usually experienced. The whole thing felt surreal in that light.

‘Nevermind. You’ve ... try and calm down.

Ford took a deep breath though it didn’t help much against the panic.

‘... focus on what you’re seeing, and imagine ... to me. I want to know…’

“ It's too dark! I can't see anything!”

‘focus on your senses… sensations you’re experiencing...’

“Voices. Saying things. He says I’ll never find you!” He felt a hand grab his arm. He pulled away and started running. “Stan! Help! He's going to catch me!”

There was no response and that just fueled the panic. He’d caught Stan! Where do I go to find him?! What do I do if I find him? I’ll probably just screw up more. But I have to find him! I don’t want to be alone anymore!

‘You'll always be alone once I find you! I’ll keep you Far apart. You’ll never see him again. You won’t be able to ever help him. You never could help him anyway.’

Something brushed against his skull. Ford jerked away and started running in the other direction. He stumbled in the darkness and felt something grab his shoulders. He could tell who had grabbed him. It was Allensen and he was pulling him away. No! I have to find Stan! I can’t let him suffer! I can’t let him be alone too!

The hands left his shoulders but before Ford could move away, they grabbed his wrist and started pulling him. He was terrified to feel his body obey and start following, no matter how much he wanted to struggle. He tried to cry out but his voice was gone. He was trapped!

Allensen's other hand was suddenly around his throat. ‘ Understand something right now. Anything that happens to him from now on, is because of you! You misbehave, he feels pain.’

No please! I’ll do anything just please don’t hurt him!

‘...good little pet…’

Why would anyone want to keep me as a pet?

He suddenly found himself lying on the ground. Could he call it 'ground’? Everything was still so dark…

He tried sitting up, when a sharp pain sliced through his upper arm. He screamed and grasped at the spot. He pulled his hand away to see blood. So much blood.

He had to focus though! He couldn’t let the pain get through! He could let his brother feel it he-

Wait. Why wouldn’t he want Stan to feel it? They were stronger together. Why was he so afraid of being alone when he liked being alone? This-- this didn’t make any sense it was almost like--

This was Stan’s dream. He was experiencing Stan’s worst nightmare.

What Stan had said earlier floated to the front of his mind.

‘nightmare based on your subconscious or mine?’

Now it seems they had an answer. But why would this be Stan’s nightmare? He would never...oh!

Ford knew now. The time he tried to spend away only to be drawn into boat duty… the practices Stan had missed to spend time with him… how every time he tried get some space, Stan was there with something for them to do together. It all made sense now! But why would Stan feel like this? Why would he be so afraid to be alone? Ford remembered the day his first college application package had arrived in the mail. The look on Stan's face...hurt, betrayed… scared. It was gone in an instant. They had spent the rest of the day on the Boat. Stan worked on it feverishly. Oh, God, Stan. Why didn't you say something?!

Stan's voice filtered through the dark, but it didn’t sound quite like Stan. It was like… a memory. ' Would you have listened? Would it even had mattered if you did?’

Chapter Text

Ford gasped as he woke up. “Stanley! I’m so sorry! I never realized!” He couldn't stop the words that tumbled out of him, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

When his vision cleared, he wished he could block out what he saw. Stan wasn’t conscious, and had his arm flayed open from shoulder to elbow. Ford blanched at the sight. Part of it looked as though it had already healed, and the rest was attempting to. Ford could actually see the tissue pulling together and healing itself even from where he sat.

“I see the hallucinogen wore off. Did you have a nice 'trip’, I believe is the word?”

As if in response, Ford leaned as far as he could over the arm if the chair and threw up. Ford raised his head but when he saw Stan’s still healing arm and the severe bruising on his face, he almost threw up again, so he quickly lowered it.

“Stan! Can you hear me!?”

Stan’s only response was a mildly annoyed grunt.

“I see he’s coming back around. How irritating. I had hoped he would be unconscious a little longer, but I suppose that is the regeneration taking affect. I should probably consider that a positive.”

“What did you do?!”

    “He was giving me to much, I understand ‘lip’ is the phrase? So I knocked him out the old fashioned way.”

“I don't blame him! I'd let you have a piece of my mind, too!” He pulled at his restraints. He needed to make sure Stan was alright.

“That reminds me. I should place an order for new restraints. Your brother keeps figuring out how to unbuckle them.”

Ford smiled at that. “He's quite the escape artist. He can get out of handcuffs, too. He could do it professionally if he wanted to.”

    “Yes. He also managed to break the lock on Guest Room 2. And part of the door. Which is one of the reasons why the regeneration is the only modification I’ll be giving you at this time.”

Ford laughed. “Well, if you'd let him keep his lock pick set, that wouldn't have happened.”

He knew he was tempting fate with baiting Allensen like that, but he couldn't stop himself. He had to admit, it felt good to be the 'troublesome’ twin for once.

    Stan let out a quiet snicker, showing just how awake he was.

“Well, look who decided to join us. Feeling a bit more cooperative now?” Allensen asked, setting the scalpel aside.

Stan didn’t say anything but he did finally lift his head to glare at Allensen. The man shrugged. “I figured as much. You'll be pleased to know your arm has healed nicely. The mark should be completely gone in the next...I’d say, ten minutes.”

When Allensen returned to his work bench, Stan managed to make eye contact with Ford. “You okay?”

“Me? I should be asking you that! You're the one sitting there with your arm carved up!”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “You were the one in nightmareland. I think that trumps cut to the arm.”

“Stan, I could see bone!”

Stan glanced at his arm, which had an increasingly small mark as the only sign of what had happened. “And now you can’t. You never answered my question.”

“I’m a little nauseous, but I think I’m okay.”

“That's good to hear,” Allensen said standing up with what looked like a modified bunsen burner. “I was planning on testing both of you today and I wouldn’t be able to do that if you showed any negative side effects.”

“Who pulled your string, Creep? No one asked you nothin',” Stan snarked.

“ Anything. ” Allensen and Ford corrected at the sametime.

“Must I remind you of the arrangement every few minutes?” Allensen continued looking put out.

Stan looked at Ford, then down at the floor. He mumbled something under his breath.

“No, what?” Allensen asked.

Stan mumbled something a bit louder with an edge. Allensen nodded in approval before putting the flame onto Stan’s skin. Stan flinched but didn’t say anything.

“What are you doing?!” Ford yelled. “Isn't slicing him up like a turkey enough?!”

“I am testing how the healing formula reacts to burns. I plan on testing all manner of injuries today.”

“Then use me!”

Stan’s head hot up with a warning glare.

“I intend to,” Allensen stated without even looking up as he set the tool aside. “I will be testing the healing abilities of both of you. You just have to wait until I’m done with Stanley first.”

“No! He's always been the one that protects everyone! It's time I return the favor!”

‘Shut up!’ Stanley mouthed to him through gritted teeth.

“You were always the one jumping between me and the bullies, Stan. It's my turn.”

Allensen chuckled. “Well, since my little pet is so eager, who am I to say no?”

Allensen turned back to his table and pulled out a syringe, filled with a yellow liquid. He strode over to Stan and felt for a vein in the crook of his arm. Finding it easily, he injected Stan with the contents.

Stan grunted, when the liquid poured in.

“Have a nice visit to...what did you call it? Nightmareland?” Stan’s head dropped to his chest, unconscious. Turning back to Ford, Allensen smiled. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

Chapter Text

    The first thing Stan noticed when he opened his eyes, was that everything was unbelievably bright and sharp. He had to close his eyes and blink a few times, in order for his eyes to adjust and even then it was so bright, it was giving him a headache. Everything was so sharp too, he wondered if he could get cut looking at it. It was weird for everything to be in such focus. He had long gotten used to the fuzziness of the world, without his glasses.

“Maybe that healing stuff fixed my eyes. That'd be great.”

The second thing he noticed was that he was in Glass Shard Beach near the boardwalk. It looked like the path they used to walk home.

“Oh. Right. Nightmareland. Gotcha. Wonder what it has in store,” Stan mused to himself.

He didn't have to wonder long, when a small rock hit his back. “Hey, Freak!”

Stan groaned internally before turning around. Sure enough, Campleter and goons stood behind him looking smug.

“What do you want?”

“Where's your stupid brother? He finally realize what a weirdo you are?”

Before Stan could retort, he felt a six-fingered hand clap him on the back. “Don’t worry Stanford! We can handle him!” Stan turned slowly to see Ford smiling at him. “Just like we handle everything! Together!”

“Well, it looks like the other Stanford finally showed up for the show!

What is going on here? he thought. This barely makes any sense.

Without even realising it, Stan had shut down all his emotions trying to make sense of his surroundings. He felt detached from the proceedings.

“This is gonna be fun. Let's get 'em, boys!”

The bully and his goons ran at the twins. Stan could barely contain his shock when Ford jumped in front of him.

“Don’t worry Stanford! We’ll fight them together! Even if we are both weak.”

“What are you talking about, Ford? Pop put us in boxing lessons.”

Confusion crossed Ford's face. “Since when? And how could he afford that?”

“Since we were seven and the coach was part of his crew and owed him a favor.”

“But he couldn’t afford extracurriculars. Not with Sherime and two twins who were such useless freaks as us. We put too much strain on his budget. But that’s okay cause we only really need each other.”

Now it was Stan’s turn to be confused. “Sixer? Are you feeling alright?”

“What did you call me?”

“Hey! You freaks forget where you are or somethin’?”

“Don’t call my brother a freak!” Stan shouted at them

“Why not? You’re both freaks! Inside ‘n out and everyone knows it!”

“I’ve had enough of you!” Stan threw a punch that the bully easily dodged. The bully pushed Stan from behind, sending him off balance and knocking him to the ground.

What the hell? Usually, I land one good punch and this wimp runs off!

“That all you got?” Crampelter taunted, kicking Stan in the ribs.

Hasn’t had this advantage over since I turned thirteen .

As Stan moved to stand up, he saw his hand. He saw his fingers. Six fingers. He has six fingers. He looks back at Ford and Ford is right next to him and he has six fingers too.

What the…?

Then the other details click into place. Freaks. Plural. Never put in boxing. Ford purposely calling me Stanford. Both useless. Six fingers. It’s like--

It’s like me and Ford are exactly the same in all the ‘negative ways.’

“Come on, guys. Let's get out of here. It ain't fun when they don't fight back.”

It makes sense I didn’t figure it out till now, Stan thought as Ford helped him to his feet. I’ve always felt i stole Ford’s name and I’m mistaken for him all the time. I’m the bigger freak in the family and I always expect to be called out on it.

Holy Heck! What is this weird dream?!

“ You okay?” Ford asked.

“Um, yeah. Bruised, but I’m good.”

“Well we better head to class. We’ve got an exam to take and probably fail.”

“You? Fail? You're the genius, remember?”

“What do you mean? I’m no better than you. And you’re no better than me. We’ve always been the same in everything. We are the Stanford Pines Twins and we are exactly the same.”

Stan suddenly felt like he couldn't breath. Ford was standing too close.(had Ford really never removed his arm from around Stan’s shoulders?) Everything was spinning. Why was this a bad thing? Why did he feel like screaming? Everything was too bright and too sharp and Ford was too close and Stan didn’t know what was happening! Was he even Stan any more? Everything was too much and he needed space to focus. Maybe do some science equations. But he failed at science. What good was he if he failed at that? That was his one chance to succeed and make something of himself and prove to everyone he wasn’t a freak! But he didn’t like science. And he was and wasn’t a freak. He was more of freak then they thought but everyone thinks of him as the normal twin! Did they? Who thought that?

It was like two different-opposing- trains of thought colliding. He couldn’t think and he couldn’t stop thinking. He couldn’t-- breathe.

“It's not real...it's not real…,” he started repeating to himself.

The Not-Really-Ford tightened his hold around Stan’s neck, cutting off his air supply. “Don’t you worry bout a thing, Brother. After all, nothing really matters as long as we’re together, right? Stanford?”

“I never… meant it… like that.” Closing his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose (or trying to), Stan repeated to himself, “It’s not real, it’s-not-real itsnotreal,” each time faster. Over and over again. He never truly believed it.

Chapter Text

“It's not real!” Stan yelled as he jerked awake. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, before looking up to see what kind of shape his brother was in. He was almost afraid to find out.

He focused first on Ford’s face. His eyes looked scared and concerned but vaguely curious and slightly unfocused. His skin was a pale green, so he was probably still nauseous. He was leaning his head to one side, likely to avoid looking at his own injuries. Stan was disgusted to notice that Ford’s hair looked mused. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Stan slowly lowered his gaze.

“You okay, Sixer?” Ford just groaned and rolled his head. His wrist rocked back and forth in a so-so motion that showed he heard but wasn’t really able to speak.

“I’m afraid Stanford is a bit, 'out of it’ at the moment.”

“What did you do?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Nothing, really. A little burn and a few cuts, similar to yours. He heals slower than you do so he lost a bit of blood. Nothing serious, just enough to make him light headed.”

Stan focused on his brother. His shirt had been cut open, showing a horrible burn on the left side of his ribs. Several small, shallow cuts covered his chest, but the one that made Stan nearly throw up, was the shallow but long gash across his stomach. Stan noticed the burn was in the same place he'd been kicked in his dream.

“He heals slower, huh? You get cheated? You just can't trust those bargain basement dealers.”

“No. the formula, which I created , reacts differently to the individual. For instance you both heal faster than me, but slower than my assistants.”

“Speaking of 'healing’, did you manage to regrow that tooth I knocked out?”

“Teeth are a bone and bones can be mended and healed, but not replaced. So to answer your question, no I haven’t.”

“Hm, too bad. That would've been a huge advantage in the ring. No more mouth guards. I hate the taste of those things.”

“Your hand healed nicely from that. While examining you I noticed you cracked your knuckle. It’s now fully healed.”

Stan flexed his fingers. Nothing. Not even an ache that suggested they'd been injured. He hadn’t even noticed in the first place, with everything that was going on. He briefly wondered what his coach would think if he knew about this? Probably start scheduling matches with more dangerous opponents, the kind of guys who didn't mind slugging a sixteen-year-old kid. Stan grimaced at the thought.

He looked back at Ford. The small cuts on his chest were now only pinkish scars and the one along his stomach was pulling itself back together. The burn on his side still looked pretty nasty.

Noticing where Stan’s gaze was focusing, Allensen frowned. “It appears burns heal the slowest. They still heal faster than the average human, and won’t scar but are quite slow compared to other injuries. Cuts heal the fastest however.”

“Just another reason to be careful when Ma asks for help with dinner, then? No reaching into the oven with our bare hands?”

A stray thought hit Stan that he couldn’t help muttering aloud. “Cuts probably heal the fastest to staunch the blood flow ‘n minimize the risk of bleedin’ to death.”

“Exactly!” Allensen said with a wide smile. “My hypothis exactly! You see? You are smart.”

“I don't know how I know that or even why I said it. It was more an educated guess than being actually smart.”

Allensen put his hand on his chin, looking like one of the comic book villains he claimed not to be. “I wonder if that thought came from my pet here?” He looked over to Ford.

“Stop calling him that!”

“Of course, it doesn’t take a genius to know that cuts are the worst kind of injuries and loss of blood is the greatest risk.” Allensen continued to muse, ignoring Stan. He ran his fingers through Ford's hair, smiling to himself when he heard Stan's low growl of anger. “It would be interesting to learn how much he could take, since he heals slower.”

Stan clamped his jaw shut and forced the sound in the back of his throat to silence.

“Yes, wouldn't it? How far could I go before death is imminent? Of course, I have the equipment to revive him, so there's no real danger. Perhaps I’d even let you watch.”

Stan forced himself to remain quiet and not say a word. He knew what the maniac was hinting at and he knew that it was all a test.

Allensen moved in front of Stan and put two fingers under his chin, lifting the boy's head and forcing him to make eye contact. “Or maybe you? You heal quickly. How much could you handle?”

Stan kept quiet and looked him dead in the eye. His eyes had no trace of fear in them and he knew it.

“No smart remarks? Could it be you've finally learned your place?”

Stan scowled but refused to speak.

‘What are you doing?’

Stan was quite taken aback by Ford’s worried thought but refused to let it show outwardly.

This guy's trying to bait me. I don't know why, but he's not getting anything outta me. It’ll be easier if i don’t react.

“It seems I’ve finally housebroken you.” Allensen laughed, patting Stan on the head, like a dog.

Stan reacted before he knew it. Allensen reeled back, wiping at his face.

“You'll regret that.”

Stan gulped. He already did.

Chapter Text

Ford wasn't sure how he'd gotten back to his room, but, judging from the antibacterial cream spread on his still healing burn, he was willing to bet it was one of the kids that brought him there. He sighed as he stared up at the ceiling.

Stan? Are you okay? How's your arm?

    There was a long pause. So long in fact that Ford began to worry that he wouldn’t answer when Stan’s quite ‘voice’ echoed a short, ’Fine.’ before going quite. A little while later Stan asked, ‘How’s your burn?’

Almost gone. Yours?

    ‘Healed while I was out.’

Um, how about the drug? Did you see anything...weird?

‘I saw a lot of weird stuff, why? What kind of question is that?!’

Curiosity? I saw some strange things as well. I was afraid of things I’m normally not scared of, and I think I’ve developed a hypothesis as to why.

'Let me guess, you're going to tell me even if I don't want to hear it?

Well I assumed you would be curious about the dream’s origin but if you really don’t want to hear it…

He heard Stan sigh. 'Alright, I’ll play along. What caused it? ’

I believe our premature link my have been at root of it.

'How do you figure that?’

I believe the drug works by tapping into our subconscious and bringing forth our greatest fears and anti-desires.  Because we have the link between our minds developing, I believe the drug may have taped into each others subconscious instead of our own. Causing us to feel and experience emotions and sensations that we wouldn’t normally. We wouldn’t typically be faced with because they’re not ours at all!

'Can you give that to me in English and not Nerd-speak?’

Ford thought he heard Stan mutter something after that, but he let it go with a roll of his eyes. Stan was probably just teasing him about using large words.

Our dreams were caused by each other’s minds. Your greatest fear caused mine, and my greatest fear probably caused yours. It was also made by what we want least in the world.

'What was yours? I’ll tell you if you're right.’

I was alone, and it was dark, and I was terrified! I was afraid Allensen would catch me. Or would catch you. He would separate us and torture us and we’d never see each other again. There were these… hands that would grab and pull me and I knew it was always in the opposite direction. Voices echoed around…

'Okay! Okay! I get it!’ Stan's 'voice’ was suddenly defensive, like he was upset.

‘ Guy, if your right…. Then… you- I- you-- ’

Stan’s thought abruptly cut off.

' Stan? Are you okay?! Please answer!’

His only answer is a very very quiet, ‘ I can’t handle talking to you right now.’ then nothing but pure cold silence.

' Please don't shut yourself off again. I-I really need you right now.’

Stans presences in his mind became stronger though he he didn’t say anything. Like Stan was saying, ‘I’m here for you and will support you even I can’t speak to you. ’

I think I remembered something, while I was still there, I guess? It was the day my application package for NYU came in the mail. Stan, why didn't you tell me?

‘Do you know how happy you looked? I couldn't take that away from you. I just… couldn’t. I still can’t...’

Can’t what?

'I can’t take that away from you. You wanna know why? I was scared! Is that what you want to hear?! Stanley Pines was scared! There, I said it!’

Something was muttered after that, that Ford couldn’t make out but he thought he heard the word, ‘still’.

It's okay to be scared. Did you think I wasn't when that application package arrived?

Stan was silent.

I was terrified! The future is a very scary thing.

'Yeah it is. I think you may be scared at it for different reason.’

Well, the future is full of unknowns. Unknowns are scary, naturally, but also exciting!

Stan went quiet again, but Ford could barely make out a mumbled thought.

I didn't catch that.

‘You weren’t supposed to. I really can’t handle talking to you right now, Ford. I’ve got too much to think about.’

I could help if you'd stop closing yourself off!

‘No you couldn’t! You’re what I have think about! And quit lying to me! I can’t stand it!’

The feeling that echoed around Ford’s head after that last sentence, could only be described as a slammed door .

When have I ever lied to you?

Ford's thoughts were met with cold silence.

Chapter Text

    Stan sat on his bed staring out the window. He had been sitting there like this for a few moments. After his almost instical rebel, the twins had come down to take them to their rooms. Dipper brought him to his room first, and Mabel got Ford, a few minutes later. Stan assumed it was to prevent them from knowing where the other one was currently stationed.

    Staring out the window confirmed his suspicions. All windows- even the ones on second floor- were sealed shut. They weren’t double pained though. All trees were at least 20 ft away from the house. Escape would be difficult.

    Not that Stan was really thinking of escape at the moment. That dream was really getting to him and putting ‘im on edge. Not to mention the fact that Ford was practically stumbling out of the chair when he first stood up, with a still healing burn on his side.

    ‘ Stan? Are you okay? How's your arm?’

    Stan was so engrossed in his thoughts, that he almost missed the question. Stan wondered if he should answer. He had a lot to think( worry ) about. Talking to Ford would only make it worse. He supposed he should answer though. Ford had asked about his arm, which was easy.

    Fine.

    He realised that he couldn’t let himself leave it there, so Stan continued by throwing the question back at him. How’s your burn?

    ‘Almost gone. Yours?’

    Healed while I was out, Stan thought with shrug. It didn’t really matter, so he hadn’t really thought about it.

    ‘ Um, how about the drug? Did you see anything...weird?’

    Stan was immediately on edge and the defensive. He had to find out what Ford was getting at, and he couldn’t tell him about what he ‘dreamed.’

    I saw a lot of weird stuff, why? What kind of question is that?!

    ‘Curiosity? I saw some strange things as well. I was afraid of things I’m normally not scared of, and I think I’ve developed a hypothesis as to why.’

    Stan took a deep breath. Let me guess, you're going to tell me even if I don't want to hear it?

    ‘Well I assumed you would be curious about the dream’s origin but if you really don’t want to hear it…’

    Ford sounded so dejected that Stan knew he couldn’t deny him this. Even if he had a strong feeling he wasn’t going to like what Ford was about to say. Stan sighed.

    Alright, I’ll play along. What caused it? If he acted like he didn’t care, Ford wouldn’t suspect a thing.

    ‘ I believe our premature link my have been at root of it.’

    Stan didn’t like the sound of that at all. He had an idea of where this would go but he had to have Ford confirm it. Maybe there would be a fault in his logic.

    How do you figure that?

‘I believe the drug works by tapping into our subconscious and bringing forth our greatest fears and anti-desires.  Because we have the link between our minds developing, I believe the drug may have taped into each others subconscious instead of our own. Causing us to feel and experience emotions and sensations that we wouldn’t normally. We wouldn’t typically be faced with because they’re not ours at all!’

Stan gulped. Dread was building his stomach. He had to play it cool. Nothing was set in stone yet.

Can you give that to me in English and not Nerd-speak? ( I know what you’re saying I just really want to proven wrong)‘

He could almost feel Ford rolling his eyes. ‘Our dreams were caused by each other’s minds. Your greatest fear caused mine, and my greatest fear probably caused yours. It was also made by what we want least in the world.’

Don’t react. There’s still a chance he’s wrong.

What was yours? I’ll tell you if you're right.

I was alone, and it was dark, and I was terrified! I was afraid Allensen would catch me. Or would catch you. He would separate us and torture us and we’d never see each other again. There were these… hands that would grab and pull me and I knew it was always in the opposite direction. Voices echoed around…

Stan couldn’t stand to hear anymore. He’d had that nightmare so many times… It only made sense that Allensen would take the place of the lead voice.

Okay! Okay! I get it!

Stan swallowed thickly as it sunk in. Guy, if your right…. Then… you- I- you (Stan shut his walls, not wanting Ford to hear the rest of that thought) you really think that way of me. You can’t stand to be around me. You find me …. Suffocating.

‘Stan? Are you okay?! Please answer!’

Stan knew that if he kept talking to Ford after that revelation, he would break. He would fall to pieces and shatter into dust, and he couldn’t allow that. So he took a breath, before saying one of the hardest thing he’d ever said.

I can’t handle talking to you right now.

' Please don't shut yourself off again. I-I really need you right now.’

Ford sounded so weak and desperate and panicked, that how could Stan refuse? But he knew if he talked he would crack. So he imagined sitting against his dam, and pressing his back hard against it. To let Ford know that he was there, and that he would listen, but he wouldn’t talk. Couldn’t talk.

‘I think I remembered something, while I was still there, I guess? It was the day my application package for NYU came in the mail. Stan, Ford sounded so quiet and confused. Why didn't you tell me?’

Stan couldn’t help it. ‘Do you know how happy you looked? I couldn't take that away from you. I just… couldn’t. I still can’t...’ Stan trailed off, his thoughts growing darker as they went to places they shouldn’t.

‘Can’t what?’

That balant curiosity in his tone made Stan snap.

I can’t take that away from you. You wanna know why? I was scared! Is that what you want to hear?! Stanley Pines was scared! There, I said it! (I’m still scared. I’m always scared)

‘It's okay to be scared.’

Not according to Pops it’s not. It’s not manly to be scared.

‘Did you think I wasn't when that application package arrived?’

Stan stayed quite and waited.

‘I was terrified! The future is a very scary thing.’

Yeah it is.(Especially when you have to face it alone.) I think you may be scared at it for different reason. (You’re not afraid of being alone at all.)

‘Well, the future is full of unknowns. Unknowns are scary, naturally, but also exciting!’

Yeah, you would find it exciting. You love jumping head first into things, if it means you get to learn something new or study it. You really remind me of the jerk down stairs sometimes. With that attitude toward the unknown, you sound just like him.

It was getting hard to keep his anger under control.

‘I didn't catch that,’ Ford nudged.

Having none of it, Stan replied, You weren’t supposed to. I really can’t handle talking to you right now, Ford. I’ve got too much to think about. (Way too much to think about. How can you feel that way? Why did you never say anything? How long have you felt this way? How did I miss it? Did I notice it and ignore it on perhaps?)

‘I could help if you'd stop closing yourself off!’

The rage inside Stan reached tempest. How could he say that?! Why was he still pretending when he clearly didn’t want it!?

No you couldn’t! You’re what I have think about! And quit lying to me! I can’t stand it!

Stan threw his walls and dam up as hard as he possibly could. He didn't want to hear anymore.

‘When have I ever lied to you?’

Only almost our whole damn lives by looks of it.

And that hurt. Boy did that hurt. It hurt Stan to the core of his being to realize the truth of that statement. Stan’s body shook with repressed sobs.

Chapter Text

Ford didn't know what to make of what had just happened. Stan had been upset with him before, but this? He felt as if pure ice had stabbed him in the heart.

Or he had ran head first into a glacier. The second comparison seemed more fitting to the situation. It was strange. Stan was never cold. He burned hot and bright, and let everyone know what was on his mind. He lashed out and raged. He was never cold or quite. That was Ford. Ford, who let his emotions build and sharpen, until he had a spear made of ice and pure emotion. Ford didn’t know how to handle a frozen Stan.

The worst part wasn’t even how he was acting now . The worst part was how he had acted down in the lab. Stan had been so still and quite. Ford had always known Stan to be loud and rambunctious. He hadn’t moved or stopped making eye contact once. The fact that something could make Stan act like that terrified Ford. His body didn’t even so much as flinch when he tried to talk to him. Stan said Allensen was bating him, but that never stopped Stan before. So why now?

He tried reaching out to Stan a few more times, but all his attempts were ignored. He sighed, curled up on his bed and faced the wall. He thought back to the dream he'd had; the dark, the oppressive loneliness. It was horrible. But why was Stan’s worst fear being alone? He was almost always with... Oh, God!

Ford sat up. Stan was always with him! Even when Ford needed space, Stan was always there. It was rather annoying actually- but that wasn’t the point! Stan had developed separation anxiety. And he never said anything!

Stan! I know what's wrong! Talk to me please!

Nothing. Stan had shut himself off so completely, Ford couldn't even feel his usual rock solid presence. Ford didn’t know what to do and he hated it. What could be upsetting him so bad? It couldn’t have been the dream it--

Oh . Ford felt like such a fool. Stan had his own dream based on Ford’s worst fears. That was probably what was upsetting him. Okay, so what was Ford’s great fear and why Stan reacting this way to it.

Ford made a quick mental checklist. One, always being thought of as a 'freak’. Two, only being known as--

That's it! Stan, whatever you saw, it's not what you think! Part of me is afraid of only ever being known as 'the other Pines Twin’! It's about not having an identity of my own!

Still nothing.

Moses, what do I have to do Stan?

A small knock sounded at his door. “Come in,” he called.

Maple peeked in. “I wanted to check on your burn. Also I brought you dinner. I know you missed lunch so...”

Ford smiled at her. “That’s very kind of you Maple. Thank you.”

She smiled. “You're welcome.”

“Maple? Could you do something for me?”

“What?”

“Stan and I have some things to discuss, and he won't talk,” Ford tapped his temple. “To me. Could you take me to his room?”

Maple shock her head. “You shouldn’t move around to much until the burn is healed. Besides I think he needs some space right now. Sometimes it’s better to be alone when you cry.”

She carefully set down the tray she was carrying on the nightstand, oblivious to Ford’s floored and shocked state.

“Though, he might let you in when he’s ready. Have you tried knocking?” She asked innocently with her large eyes looking at him.

“H-he was crying?”

“Yeah. He tried to make it look like he wasn't, but I could tell. Me and Dipper stopped by to deliver his dinner, but we heard him sobbing through the door. When we opened it, his face was red and blotchy.”

“He's misunderstood the dream he had. I need to tell him.” Ford started to stand up, but hissed in pain when the burned skin pulled. I thought this would be healed by now.

“You shouldn’t get up. But like I said, have tried knocking?”

“I…” Ford pause to think over what she was asking. “Knocking?”

“Yeah. He’s behind a wall right? So if you knock he might open up. Have you tried?” She quirked her head to the side when she asked.

“Um, no. I, uh, didn't do that. But it's worth a try.”

She frowns at that. “I don’t think I’d let you in either if all you did was shout at the door without even bothering to knock ! That’s like basic door edicate. I hope he does open up to you though. But if he doesn’t, don’t push him. Sometimes your thoughts have to run their full course before you can talk to people.”

She looked at him so instely, that Ford couldn’t help wanting to make that promise to her large amber eyes. “Okay. I’ll give it a shot. Thanks, Maple.”

“And you won’t push him if he says no?”

“And I won’t push him. For now at least. I can’t say for later.”

She nodded. Accepting that as good as she was going to get.

After she left the room, (after watching Ford eat and redressing his burn) Ford got into a comfortable position and visualized Stan's wall, but this time with a door in it. He took a deep breath and knocked.

Chapter Text

    Stan groaned as he sat down on the bed. He had just gotten back from another ‘session’ and his muscles were sore.

    Yesterday, after the twins had brought him dinner and had caught him crying (which was hella embarrassing), only one thing of importance had happened. Ford had knocked. Which was both a surprise and a weird sensation. Not really bad weird though. It was like a soft question. A request to be invited in but not one he had to allow. He was deeply touched that Ford would do that. But he still wasn’t ready yet so he said that he couldn’t let Ford in yet. He can admit to himself now that he might let Ford in later but right now, everything was still so raw.

    “Uggh,” Stan said banging his head softly against the wall. “That jerk really put me through the wringer today. He’s relentless. Wish I could do the same to him sometime. That tooth I knocked out wasn’t really enough.”

    “Agreed. He’s a real piece of work.”

Stan growled at the sound of his twin’s voice. “Stay outta my head Ford.”

“But I’m not in your head.” It was then that Stan realized he was actually hearing Ford’s voice and not his thoughts. “I think I’m in the room next you. I can hear your voice through the wall.”

“Woopty-do,” Stan said with a roll of his eyes. He wasn’t happy with the situation because he knew Ford was going to-

“We need to talk about last night.”

-that. But this was a good thing. Stan stood up silently and began assessing the wall.

“Not going to happen.”

“Stan, we can’t just keep on ignoring it! I think I’ve figured it out what was the cause of my dream and I can help you through yours!” Ford sounded desperate and genuine. The liar. “I think the root of ‘your’ fear is that you have separation anxiety.”

“ Wrong Poindexter! ” Stan punched the wall. Both to get his point across and to test it. It left a small dent. “Dead wrong! I ain’t afraid of being away from you. I’m afraid you leaving me. And why do you keep pretending to care so much?! Why do you pretend you want me to open up and be closer when you WANT NOTHING TO WITH ME?!”

“What do you mean?” Ford sounded confused and scared. “Why would you think I want nothing to do with you when you couldn’t be more wrong? ”

“Because of that damn DREAM! Admit it! You hate being around me! You find me suffocating! ” Stan spat the last word like the worst curse he knew.

“Suffocating? I- Oh. That-- I can explain that, Stan. It’s not even really you, or being around you. It’s everyone else.”

Ford pauses to find the right words and Stan glowars at the wall. “I feel like I don’t have my own identity sometimes.”

Stan scoffed because that had to be the most outrageous thing he’s heard.

“It’s true. Stanley, we’re always referred to as the ‘Stan Twins’ or the ‘Pines twins’. Whenever someone uses our names it’s always ‘StanAndFord’. They might as well be saying one name. And you know what people call me when I’m by myself? They call me Stan’s nerdy twin brother. I feel like no one knows my name.”

In the back of his mind, this information clicked for Stan. He could empathize with it and understand it. But right now Stan was too angry and he was holding onto that rage.

“You feel like you don’t have your own name? Hah! I literally don’t have my own name! I stole yours at birth! I’m the second, unwanted, unplanned twin. I’m just the dumber, sweater, more worthless version of you and I always have been! ”

“That's not true Stanley!” Ford cried sounding pained. “That’s never been true.”

“ Bullshit ,” Stan spat. “And you know something?! Since you want me to be so damn honest with you, you wanna hear the honest truth of it all?! I’ve always been jealous of you for it! Your ‘Stanford the Smart Twin. Stanford the Good Twin. Stanford the Boy-Genius . Stanford the Gifted Twin! Stanford the Special Twin.’ And what does that leave for me huh? Zilch! Nadda! ‘Stanley the Stupid Twin . Stanley the Worthless Twin. Stanley the Mistake! ”

The walls were crumbling. And letting the anger through but they still held strong.

“Stanley I--”

“No! I’m not done! Cause yaknow something? I have every right to be angry and jealous! But I don’t have a right to blame you! And I never have! It’s not your fault I’m a failure! It’s not your fault you’re so incredibly gifted and I’m not even average! It’s not your fault everyone expects the same from me as they do from you just because we’re twins! I’ve accepted this a long time ago. I know I’ll never be as good as you. So I’ve stopped trying. I stopped trying to be as good as you. I’ve given up trying at all.”

“Stan … you really think that don’t you?” Stan grunted in affirmation, like that should have been obvious. “But… how? ! You’re the better twin ! You’re the normal twin. The athletic and sociable twin! You can make friends with anyone and never have to worry about feeling like an outcast or a freak!”

Stan rolled his eyes. Boy, Poindexter was dense. “How can you be so blind all the time Poindexter? Yeah I’m sociable but it’s all an act. I charm people. They never stick around. The fact that Carla stuck around as long as she has is a miracle . Sooner or later, everyone sees what I really am and hate me . As for feeling like an outcast or freak, since when have I not ? Ford, I’m the biggest outcast between us!

And you’re not a freak, Sixer. You never have been. You’re fingers make you important and special. They’re another thing I’m jealous of. They don’t make you freak.

I’m the real freak. I’m the real defect of the family. I was born broken and damaged, Ford. I’m broken on the inside and I neve r-” Stan voice cracked as he slid back against the wall. “I never wasn’t. I’m the real freak . And I’m a bigger freak then you’ll ever be .”

Stan took a breath and it came out a choked sob. “But that never mattered. None of that mattered if you were there with me. I didn't mind being in your shadow, ” Stan hiccuped with emotion. The walls fell down. Stan couldn’t hold them up anymore. The emotions spilling out were too much. “If it meant I could witness your light. ”

“But if you ever left , I’d be alone, in the dark.”

Chapter Text

He heard Ford sniffle from the other side of the wall.

“I’m so sorry. I should've noticed,” he said, a slight crack in his voice. Ford was overcome by emotion. He couldn’t tell what was his any more. As soon as Stan’s dam had come down, he had been absolutely flooded with built up emotion.

There had been fear and anger. Hurt and loneliness and pain. Despair and hope. Hate. Jealousy. Resentment. Regret. But the worst were the ones pointed inward. There was so many pointed at the inside, instead of outward. The worthlessness, the disgust, the hate, all pointed at himself. ( or Stan’s self, he guessed. It was hard to tell anymore. )

“Some brother I am,” Ford mumbled. “I couldn't even see you were…” His voice broke off in a sob.

“Don’t beat yourself up about this.” Stan voice was sad but it had one of those unhappy lits to it. “You didn’t know because I didn’t want you to know. Heck,” Stan shrugged uselessly. “I don’t even want to think about it most of the time.”

Ford stood, and wobbled over to the wall where Stan’s voice could be heard. He banged his head angst it and let himself fall to his knees.

“You shouldn't have to think that way at all.

“That’s a… that’s why I like our boat so much. I know I don’t have much of future otherwise. That way we can still be together.”

“I had no idea you felt that way about it. I thought you just wanted to go treasure hunting. But there’s so much more to you, Stanley. You should see yourself when you're in the ring. You're amazing. Or when you're defending me. Or even when you're picking locks! Stan you're so good at so many things.”

“Huh,” Stan laugh was dry and humorless. He sounded like he had ran out of emotion. “You and I both know that if I did that professionally I wouldn’t even make state. If I stay with just to defend you from bullies I’d just be riding around on your coat tails. And really? Lock picking? That’s one of your selling points?”

“Remember when you tried to teach me and I ended up nearly breaking the pin?” Stan let out  a merserouls laugh at the memory. Ford smiled sadly at that. “Besides you know how to control a crowd and how  to put on a show. You could definitely make it as an escape artist if you tried! I wasn’t joking about that! You’re good at so many things, you could make in almost any division of work. Unlike me.”

“Yeah. Got the next Houdini over here.” Stan sarcasm was think and they both could almost hear the eye roll. “And what do you mean, 'unlike you’? You’re brilliant Sixer. You’re good at everything you try.”

“If it comes out of a book, yes. But anything remotely physical or social, I’m hopeless at.”

“You and me both know that book smarts is the only one any one cares about. Being social and physical can’t get you very far in life.”

“You’re wrong. Those skills can get you very far. What’s the point of being smart if I can’t even talk to people? Share my knowledge with them? That’s why I work so hard. If I can prove to everyone I’m smart, they won’t think less of me for being a freak. Or not settling down. I feel like if I ever fail in that, then my accomplishments and myself won’t mean anything.”

“That's the reason you push yourself so hard at school?”

“Yeah. I don’t really have much to offer to anyone without my intellect.”

“That's bull. You have so much to offer to anyone who meets you. You may not see it, but you have magnetic personality. People are naturally drawn to you. Your just so awkward because of how uncomfortable you are that you push them away. If you felt more at ease around them, they’d flock to you like fish to propper bait.”

Ford laughed. “Fishing metaphors? That's the best you have?”

Stan shrugged. “Pretty much yeah. Like I said, I’m an idiot and don’t know how to say stuff.”

Ford's fist hit the wall. It wasn't nearly as hard as Stan's hit, but it still caught him by surprise. “Don't say that! If either of us is, it's me. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be in this mess.”

That made something click in Stan’s brain. “Ford,” he started slowly. “What made you want to stay with Allensen in the first place? I mean. The guy kidnapped you and from what I heard, you were fine with it at first.”

Ford sighed. “Looking back, it's not one of my proudest moments. He said I was special, that my extra fingers could point to a new step in evolution. He knew exactly what to say. I was such a fool. But … I suppose the main reason was because I needed validation. I wanted to know the reason behind my fingers and proof that they made me special. It didn’t help that I felt I needed a break from you.”

He felt Stan pull back mentally. “I didn't mean it like that! I never meant it like that. I would have never said it if I knew you would take it in that way.”

“Then how am I supposed to take it?”

“That we are stronger together. That sure things are hard, but we could make it through if I was by your side. I never meant it to sound like the bad things weren't so bad or didn’t matter. I didn’t mean it to sound like we should never be apart.”

“So, sometimes, I should just...give you some space, huh? I suppose i shouldn’t be so loud either. Then you probably wouldn’t feel so suffocated by my presence.” Stan drew into himself a little more.

“Space would be nice, but you don’t have to shut yourself to give it. Stanley, I want to support you too. I don’t want you to suffer on your own. I know deep down that you don’t mean to take up so much of the spotlight or anything else, it's just who you are. I know you don’t mean it like that.”

“Heh. I guess.” No it’s not. It’s just easier to put up a front then to show how small I am. If I’m not loud and big, people will notice how much of a coward I am. But I can be small if that’s what you need.

“There's not a cowardly bone in your body, Stanley. You’re always the first to run into danger. The first to rush to the defense. You charged in here knowing it was a trap if it meant you had a chance to save me. You knocked Allensen’s tooth out for insulting Maple and Dipper. You’re so brave and strong Stan. I can’t imagine anything scaring you.

“So many things scare me poindexter. Haven’t you been listening? I’m scared you’ll leave, I’m scared I’m holding you back, I’m afraid of what you’d think of me if you ever saw the real me, I’m scared of you being hurt, I’m scared of the kids being hurt, I’m scared of my own Goddamn mind! I’m never not scared!”

“That was a double negative.” It was more a mutter than an actual sentence.

“You sound like our English teacher. I swear that old woman hates me.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of those things Stan. You never held me back you pushed me forward. You shouldn’t have to worry about us being hurt when you're in as much danger. Besides, bravery isn’t the lack of fear, but taking action despite fear. You never let your fear hold you back.”

Stan huffed. “Which one of your nerd books you get that from?”

“I actually can’t remember.”

“Sounds like that 'Lord of the Rings’ one. Which I have absolutely never read! I also totally never pay attention to it when you read it out loud!”

“Why must you always put on a bluff.” Ford asked exasperated, before taking on a more serious tone. “Stan … why did you feel the need to build the dam?”

Stan was quite as he worried his lip. Searching for the right words. “I was scared you’d hate me.” It was so quiet and tiny, that Ford almost thought he misheard.

“I may get upset with you sometimes, but I could never hate you. Why would you think that?”

“Cause I hate me.” it was a little louder but still small. “I thought if you ever saw the way I think about myself, you’d realize it was true. I can’t stand the thought of you hating me.”

“I hate that you think that, but you're my brother. I love you. It hurts to know you think of yourself like that.”

“It’s true isn’t? I’m worthless Sixer. The only thing I’ve ever been good at is defending you.”

“What about the kids at the gym you help coach when you don't have a match to train for?”

“They can handle that place without me. I’m not even that good at it. They can figure it out on their own. Besides, the gym is part of the whole defending you thing. Sometimes It would have been better if I died in the womb.”

Ford’s mouth fell open. He couldn't have heard that right! “Stanley, please tell me you didn't just say that! You know that's not true!”

“Yeah, your right. If I died then then you would have gotten beaten up a lot worse by the bullies.”

“If you weren't there to defend me, who knows how far they’d go? Is that what you want? Me bleeding out in some cave on the beach? Or a forgotten supply closet at school?”

“ Of course not!! ” Ford was surprised by the venom in Stan’s voice.

“Stan, why do you sound like you don’t want to live? It's not true is it?”

“Sometimes...it is.”

“Why would you want to leave me without my brother? My best friend?”

“See? Now you know what that fear feels like. I’m terrified you’ll leave. That you’ll move on. My soul purpose in life, has and always has been to protect and support you so if you leave, or don’t want me around,” Stan through his arms out even though Ford couldn’t see him. “What’s the point? I admit it. Sometimes, I don’t want to live, but I do so you don’t have to be alone.”

“Stan…,” Ford’s throat felt tight. “Is that why you looked unhappy when I asked about the Axolotl’s offer? Is that why you choose to live?” Ford hiccuped. “Because of me ?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Stan shrugged. “He said you would face great hardships alone in the future. And if I choose death you’d have to go through that by yourself. I couldn’t let you go through that.”

Ford punched the wall as hard as he could. Why didn't he ever see through Stan's shield? Was he that wrapped up in himself? How could I have been so selfish? Ford punched the wall again.

“...Ford?” Stan sounded concerned and nervous. He’d never seen(or heard) this side of his brother before.

I wish this wall wasn't here! I wish you and I were back home and this was all a bad dream! I wish...

“I wish you didn’t feel that way. I wish you never felt like you wanted to die. I’d like to strangle you and crush you in a hug at the same time, right now. You’re such an idiot Stan.”

“...Yeah?”

“You’re an idiot for not seeing it. You don’t see how truly incredible you are. You’re strong and brave and so smart and clever. You’re incredible in every aspect of yourself.

“Well, with you in my corner, maybe I can learn to believe it.” Stan paused before saying. “I think your just saying that to make me feel good right now, but maybe someday….”

Ford smiled. “That's good enough. Maybe someday, i’ll believe it when you say I’m not a freak or that it doesn’t matter if I fail.”

He put his hand on the wall, unknowing that Stan mirrored the action. “Until then, where we go…”

“We go together?” Stan was so hopeful but hesitant when he tentatively finished the sentence.

“Damn right.” They both shared a laugh at that. It took a lot to get Ford to cuss. When the laughter died down, they felt something connect. It was loud and it was solid. Connecting both of them together, they knew, forever. The link had fully established.

Chapter Text

Maple and Dipper sat against the wall between the doors to Stan and Ford's rooms. They held hands as they listened in on the conversation.

“Dipper,” Maple whispered quietly, not wanting the other twins to hear. “I sometimes feel like Stan.”

Dipper turned to look at her better. “What do you mean?” he asked just as softly.

“I sometimes feel like I’m and idiot and that I’m a mistake.”

“You shouldn’t Maple! But,” Dipper sighed. “Sometimes I do too. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better we died.”

“Me too.”

They heard shifting behind the wall as Stan and Ford moved around. After a moment they heard Ford’s voice.

“What are we going to do, Stan?” The question sounded hopeless, like someone finally out of options.

“We’re going to get out of here.” Stan replied with firm finality.

“Then what?”

“I…” Stan trailed off. “I don’t know.

“Stan,” Ford said slowly. “We can’t leave Dipper and Maple here.”

Dipper and Maple turned to stare at each other, confused on their inclusion.

“Yeah, no kiddin’,” Stan shot back. “But Ford, how are we going to take them with us? Dipper said they’ve got a pacemaker in their chest that will zap them if they get too . He also said it’ll kill them if the jerk downstairs dies.”

“I didn’t know about that. But we can’t leave them with him!”

“Yeah.” Stan paused to think. “Maybe we can get to police to come after we get out. I know they’re basically useless but surely after everything they’ll have enough evidence to arrest ‘im.”

“That might work, but then what happens to them?” Ford questioned.

“Yeah good point. No way Pops would let them stay. He barely has enough for us. But we can’t let them go into the services either. They’re to good for that.”

“I doubt they would be sent to social severes. They’re genetically modified artificial humans ,” Ford stressed slowly. “If the government found about them, they would be taken away and probably be experimented on.”

“Well, damn.” Stan muttered.

“We’re never going to get out are we?” Maple asked sadly.

“No,” Dipper replied. “We probably aren’t.”

Maple paused to try and think of something positive to say. “Do you think they finally linked?” She asked.

“After that heart to heart, I’d be surprised if they didn't.”

“He'll want to test their limits if he finds out. He's already threatened it.”

“He's not gonna find out,” Dipper said with determination. “When he's out today, I’m going to sneak into his office and call the police.”

Maple visibly paled. “Dipper! What if you get caught?”

“I’m willing to risk it. I want you to hide in the kitchen. That way, you can say you didn't know what I was doing.”

Maple shook her head. “No can do, Dip-Dop. We do this together, or we don't do it at all. Besides,” she smiled sadly at Dipper. “It doesn’t really matter what happens to us does it? We’re trapped no matter what. But I don’t mind being trapped forever and ever, if it means they’re safe.”

Dipper nodded with a weak grin. “Alright. He should be leaving for whatever ‘errands’ he does soon.”

“I think I heard him mention seeing a dentist about that tooth Stan knocked out. The gum's already healed, but he wants a false one put there.”

“I wish I could've seen that,” Dipper laughed. “Did Stan really spit on him, too?”

“Yep.” Maple couldn’t help her grin as she confirmed that. “I was afraid it would set him off, but he was super calm about it. That scares me more than anything.”

Dipper nodded at that, knowing what she meant.

The kids snuck to the other side of the floor, to watch when Allensen left his office. After a few moments, they heard Allensen’s office door open and shut and then him making his way down stairs. Soon the front door shut too. Dipper glanced over at his sister. “Are you sure you want to do this with me? Last chance to back out.”

She shook her head. “Wherever we go, we go together. Just like what Ford and Stan said.”

“Alright. Now’s our chance, then.”

They quickly made their way around the wall and into the office. Dipper turned the doorknob, praying the door wouldn't be locked. The knob turned easily.

“Being in here always makes me nervous,” Maple said. “I feel like all those animals are staring at me.”

“Me too. The only one I don't mind is that Axolotl.”

“Yeah. He's too cute to be scary.”

Dipper walked to the phone on the edge of the desk and quickly dialed the operator.

“Good afternoon. How may I connect your call?”

She sounded different than the recording from upstairs, she had a New Jersey accent, but it still put Dipper on edge.

“Um, what's the nearest police department?”

“That would be Glass Shard Beach Police. Would you like me to connect you?”

“Yes, please.”

“One moment.”

There were a few clicks and the call connected. After three rings, the other line picked up.

“GSBPD. Sargent Blume speakin’. How can I help ya?”

Dipper swallowed nervously. “You know about the Pines boys that went missing a few weeks ago?”

“Yeah?” Blume suddenly sounded much less bored.

“I know where they are.”

“Just a sec.” They heard the phone being set down and a faint, “Lieutenant! I got a caller here with a tip on those Pines kids!”

    Dipper and Maple smiled nervously at each other, relieved to hear that.

The phone was picked up again. “This is Lieutenant Fielden. You said you had information on the Pines boys?”

    Dipper and Maple both nodded even though they knew they couldn’t be seen. “Yes!” Maple said enthusiastically.

“We know where they’re being held.” Dipper continued.

“Well then, I’m all ears.”

“It’s on Ocean View Boulevard. Stan’s car is still out front. If you looked through Stan’s clues then it should be the house with the gate in one of the pictures. We don’t know the address.”

Dipper could hear papers shuffling. “Yeah. We got ‘em here. You ain't in any danger, are ya kid? You sound nervous.”

“That doesn’t matter, can you find them?!”

“Is it enough? Did we help?” Maple asked worried.

“Yeah. Between your tip and the stuff we got from their folks, we got enough to find them. You were a big help.”

The call disconnected. Dipper smiled at Maple. “I guess now we wait.”

Chapter Text

Allensen grumbled to himself as he walked through the door. After a visit to what had to be the world's most incompetent dentist, he had called one of his contacts about finding a new house. He needed to move his operation soon. The police had to be looking for those boys. It was a miracle they hadn't been found yet. On the way back, he had seen police cars patrolling a little too close for comfort.

His mind drifted to the experiments he had planned for the day. Since discovering that the younger twin healed quickly, he wanted to see how far he could go with injuries before the boy was in any danger. He smiled to himself, of course, it was also partly payback for the boy spitting on him.

He thought about leaving the others behind and only taking Stanford with him. The boy's genius would be a big help. He would have to start him on a course of the hypnosis drugs to ensure his obedience. He need to secure the link first, however, and then figure out how to establish it between his assistants. Plus, he had his other project to check on. He had to make sure it was growing and developing properly. It would be his greatest creation and it was almost finished.

He stepped into his office and draped his coat over the chair. That was when he noticed the telephone was slightly out of place. The brats must have made a call out. How displeasing . That would also explain the sudden increase in the police patrols. This threw off his entire time table.

It would be three days before the final project was complete. Three days before they could move. He checked the time on his watch; nearly suppertime. The kids would be in the kitchen.

I think I should check on their progress.

Nodding to himself, Allensen turned and headed back down the stairs.

When he reached the kitchen, he could hear the two giggling with each other. He waited a moment before clearing his throat, alerting the kids to his presence. Girl yelled and nearly dropped the pot she was holding.

“I thought I told you you were banned from kitchen duty,” he said, eyeing her distastefully. He was going to wait before confronting them on the phone call.

“Dip-um, Boy needed my help.”

Allensen turned his gaze to Boy. “Is that true?”

“Yes, sir. Plus, I enjoy her company.”

“Were either of you in my office today?”

“I went in there to dust,” Girl said.

“Hm. Neither of you, say, made a phone call? To the local police maybe?”

“Why would we do something like that?”

They were both clearly nervous. Girl’s wings were drooping as they fluttered softly. He decided to let it go. For now. It would just mean that when he did get around to punishing them, he could also do it for lying to him.

“No matter. I have more important things to do. We’ll be leaving in 3 days.”

“Leaving? Where will we go this time?” Girl asked.

“That's not your concern. Just be ready to move by then.”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused.

He left the room, going back up the stairs, to return to his office. He would have to move his schedule around since they were so pressed for time. Which of course meant he would have to wait to test Stanley’s limits. He sighed inwardly. No, he would have to stick to the link tests only.

He needed to check in on the boys anyway. He had gotten carried away when testing how fast burned flesh would heal on Stanford. As he walked to their rooms, he could hear their voices. It seems they've discovered they're right next to each other.

“Okay,” he heard Stanford say. “What am I thinking about?”

“Geez, Sixer! That's, like, something from Area 51! What was that?!”

Stanford laughed. “Einstein's Theory of Relatively.”

“Well, don’t do it again,” Stanley was stern but teasing. “Stuff like that makes my brain hurt.”

“It's one of his simplest theories.”

“Maybe to you.”

Allensen stopped to listen. Reading one another's thoughts? Could it be? Allensen paused outside their rooms in the hall to listen.

“My turn, then.”

He heard Stanford laugh again. “A guest role in Charlie's Angels ? Seriously?”

“Hey, Jacqueline Smith is a fox and you know it.”

“She is attractive.”

Allensen rolled his eyes as he listened to their banter. He began to wonder if he could force other abilities to spawn from their new found telepathy. But first he would have to truly confirm that the link had formed.

“Sixer? Are you...are you looking at the wall?”

“No. I’m leaning against it. Why?”

“I feel like, we're being watched. I also thought I heard a weird sound earlier, coming from the hall.”

Heightened awareness of their surroundings? An effect of the link? Or something that happens naturally for them? If only I had time to test it.

“It could’ve been the kids,” Stanford relied, he sounded doubtful.

“Yeah, maybe.” Stanley still sounded unconvinced and suspicious.

“You, um, think it could be…”

“Dr. Creepo spying on us? Wouldn't put it past him.”

“Oh.” They stopped talking for a moment before Stanford continued. “So… we should stop talking shouldn't we?”

“Gee, ya think!? ”

“Okay. Shutting up now.”

Interesting. He had a feeling the 'conversation’ didn't really stop, only the part he could hear. He would have to explore this tomorrow. Today he need to pack what equipment he could. He turned to go just as his assistants were coming up the stairs. Each carrying a tray full of food. He nodded to them before going back downstairs.

Maple gave Dipper a strange look as Allensen passed them.

“That was weird,” she said. “He seemed almost...nice.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Maple walked to Ford's door. “I want to see if his burn is better. I brought more stuff.”

Dipper smiled at his sister. “Okay.”

She knocked on the door and waited for Ford to tell her to come in. His face broke into a wide grin when he saw her.

“Hello Maple.”

“Hi!” She saw Dipper doing the same out of the corner of her eye. “So did Allensen tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

He stood from where he had been propped against the wall.

“We're going to be moving soon.”

“What?! When?”

“In three days. I thought since me and Dipper saw him up here, that he must’ve told you.”

“So he was spying on us!” Stan shouted from the other room. He startled Maple so bad, she almost dropped he try but was able to catch herself.

“Eavesdropper!” Ford shouted back with a smile.

“You guys realize he left right?” Maple questioned unsure of herself.

“I did get the feeling we weren't being watched anymore.”

“Okay, cause I was wondering why you’re both shouting at the wall.”

“Because our rooms are...wait! You didn't hear that?”

“Hear what?” she asked with a tilt of her head. “I heard you both shouting really loud if that what you meant. Don’t know why since we can all hear each other just fine even with the wall. Unless you’re having a shouting competition. Are you have having a shouting competition? Cause those may be fun but they’re not a loud. Get it?”

Ford groaned, but Stan's laugh could be heard. “Not 'a-loud’ ! Good one, kiddo!”

Maple beamed and the praise before going sober. “But Father really does hate unnecessarily loud noises. So you should refrain from shouting whenever possible. Don’t want Father to over ear you.” For effect, Maple made a show of pulling on her ear. Stan laughed again.

“Please. His puns are bad enough,” Ford said, with a barely contained grin. “Don't encourage him.”

“You mean don’t encourage her ,” Dipper interjected. “Maple loves silly puns and almost nothing can get her to stop once she starts. She also loves to combine words into something new and then use that .”

Ford turned to look at Maple. “You like to make portmanteaus?”

Maple tilted her head to the side as she said, “huh?” her face a picture of not understanding. “I like to make jokes.”

“Hey, think I should teach 'em the one that nearly got us kicked out of Temple that one time?” Stan continued before anyone could answer. “How does Moses make his coffee? Hebrews it!”

Maple laughed hard, almost dropping her tray again before stopping. “I don’t get it,” she admitted.

Ford smiled at her though it was sheepish, like he was feeling either embarrassed for Stan or feeling Stan’s embarrassment.. “It's okay. Religious humor isn't for everyone.”

“Oh that explains it.” Dipper replied. Maple could see him nodding in her head.

“We don’t know much about religions at all.” Maple finished. “Father says they’re a waste of time.”

“True that,” Stan agreed.

Ford rolled his eyes. “Is it that necessary to say it?”

Maple shrugged as she put the tray on the nightstand. “Maybe they are. But they mean alot to people so that makes them special. I would love to celebrate all the holidays. They sound like a lot of fun.”

“You still could. The holidays are mostly about being with family and acknowledging what you're most grateful for. And acknowledging something a religious figure did but mostly the first thing.”

“In that case,” Maple smiled as an idea struck. “Let’s make today our own holiday! Because we’re all together and I love spending time with all of you!”

“Alright. What should we call it?”

“Together-day?” Maple suggested.

“Sounds good,” Dipper said.

“Yeah!” Stan agreed. “Still seems pointless to me but this actually seems like it will be fun.”

Maple giggled again. “Great! What's something your family does?”

“Ma always makes way too much food, like lotates,” Stan said. “Those are my favorite.”

“Everything Ma makes is 'your favorite’.” Ford countered.

“That’s not true. Only the breakfast foods she makes. Like lotates and hot belgian waffles.”

“Oh, so the brisket you single handedly devoured was a fluke?”

“I didn’t say that her other foods aren’t good. Just that the breakfast foods are the best.”

Ford leaned down to Maple and half whispered. “Don't let him fool you. He'll eat almost anything. He once drank salad dressing on a bet.”

“Yeah, you bet I did! You want to know another great breakfast food? Bacon! I love how Mom lets us sneak some during holidays.”

“Well, then. You'll love the mashed potatoes Dipper made. They've got the leftover bacon from breakfast crumbled up in it.”

“Yum!”

“Maple's a better cook that I am. She's not supposed to be in the kitchen right now, but I sneak her in to help me.” Dipper replied somewhat sheepish.

“Dipper! Should we tell them? About what we did this afternoon?”

“I don't know if we should.”

“Come on, kid. You can't leave us in suspense after that.”

“We called the cops and told them you two were here,” Dipper replied.

“Isn't that great!? You'll be going home soon!”

“You just have to pray they find you in the next three days.”

Maple's blood turned to ice, as both she and Ford turned toward the still open door. Allensen leaned against frame, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Maple gulped, her throat tight and and resistant to move. Much like the rest of her. One thought went through her terrified brain. He heard!

Chapter Text

“Your punishment for going to my office without permission, using my personal phone, calling the police and lying to me will happen after the move. I’ll need you both in prime condition until then.”

As Allensen walked away with the scowl still on his face, Ford tried his best to comfort Maple.

“It’ll be alright,” he told the frightened girl .

‘We gotta figure out a way to flag the cops down or something!’ Stan's voice yelled in his mind.

“When you called, did you give them a description of the house?”

“We,” she sniffled. “We told them Stan's car was still parked out front and,” she sniffed again. “About the photo of the gate.”

‘That's right! I kept all those clues. Before the kids brought me here, I told Ma to take the bag on our desk to the cops if I didn't come home!’

Clues?

'Yeah. Creep apparently thought it would be fun to lure me here by giving me a bunch of riddles. And stuff.’