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“Papa papa!” Tater shouted excitedly, his papa was finally home! tater didn’t know exactly why but he knew his papa never really came home so it was a good day when he did, all he knew was ‘papa’s very busy with work at the moment, he’ll be back soon’ - as his ma had said.
“Hey there sprout!” Fiddleford greeted his son, swooping him into his arms “golly you’re getting big, how old are you now? two? three?” he asked, ruffling the kid’s hair “i’m six papa! don’t you remember?” Tater asked, a frown making its way to his lips as Emma-mae took her son in her arms. A frown graced fiddleford’s lips at the realisation “christ time flies doesn’t it” he chuckled awkwardly and looked away anxiously.
Ever since he used that memory gun his mind hadn’t quite been the same. It was just supposed to remove the memories of the disturbing things. The things that went bump in the night he couldn’t get out his head. But now.. now it was more. Memory’s were disappearing, years worth of gaps now.
“Just glad you’re home” Emma-mae told Fiddleford, leaning in and pushing his hair up to kiss his forehead.
“Feels like i’m goin’ crazy at work” Fiddleford said, his foot tapping the floor anxiously and his thumb picking at the skin around his nail. “Got a lot on your plate, huh?” Emma-mae asked and Fiddleford nodded. Christ she didn’t know the half of it.
Fiddleford bit his lip, slowly chewing the remaining layer of skin off until it bled against his tongue. “Fidds” Emma-Mae’s voice caught him out of his trance, Tater was now in the other room playing with his toy cars, “are you all right?” she asked, the concern evident in her tone. “Just dandy! Why wouldn’t i be?” Fiddleford replied, his voice turning back to its usual cheery ness. “I don’t believe you” Emma-Mae stated simply “you’ve been acting different ever since you went off to research with that fella up in Oregon, you haven’t been the same” she explained, the concern now seeping into her expression as her eyebrows knitted together. “And look, your hairs goin’ white and it’s a fallin’ out in spots, you ain’t that old yet love” she explained, pointing at the white strands in his hair, sticking out like a sore thumb, then swiftly moved a hand over to touch his bald spot with the tips of her fingers. “What’s wrong?” she asked, the question ending up sounding a lot harsher than she intended, so she repeated herself “what’s wrong?” she asked again, her voice softer and heavy with concern for her husband’s wellbeing.
“I- I’m not sure” Fiddleford said helplessly “I can’t recall what started it” he explained, tugging at the collar of his shirt and looking at the floor in an ashamed manner.
“What do you mean ‘not sure’? how can’t you remember?” Emma-Mae questioned, her tone quickly turning from kind worry to frustration.
“I just can’t recall much no more” Fiddleford explained, scratching his head. “I must’ve hit my head at work or something, all my memories are blurred” he explained which only worried Emma-mae further “you what? are you okay? do you need to see a doctor?” she asked anxiously but was immediately cut off by a frantic Fiddleford “NO! I mean, i’m fine pumpkin’, just growin’ old” he explained nervously.
He was growing more anxious by the minute and he didn’t know why. Why did time away from work make him so stressed? He just wanted a nice week back home to see his family. Why did he have to ruin it?
“`m gonna go for fresh air” Fiddleford mumbled as he walked off, putting on his coat as he walked to the front room. “Papa!” Tater exclaimed excitedly as he saw his papa walk into the room “where you goin’ Papa?” he asked once he noticed Fiddleford’s coat “just for a walk, Sprout, you watch after your ma while i’m gone, yeah?” that’s what he said everytime he left since they’d had Tater, since the day they brought him home from the hospital whenever Fiddleford would go somewhere he’d say the same thing. Even after everything he remembered to say it. “I will Pa! I’m a big boy now so i can keep ma safe!” Fiddleford laughed “Safe from who, tater tot?” “Dangerous people!” Tater explained, a mischievous smile on his lips. Fiddleford ruffled Tater’s hair covering his eyes “sure ya will Sprout”
That’s all Fiddleford wanted. To keep Tater and Emma-Mae safe from all the worries of the word. All the troubles. Everything that went bump in the night. And he’d go mad to ensure it, maybe he already had.
Fiddleford walked down the endless roads, since when had there been so much change round here? Last he remembered nothing was in the place it was now. After about twenty minutes of mindless wondering he finally turned a corner he remembered, it lead to a café he and Sally-Mae went to years ago, before Tater was born. It was nice seeing something he remembered, familiar yet weary faces in the windows. He glanced into the window, looking fondly into the familiar shop, that was until he noticed his appearance. He had changed.
Since when was so much of his hair white? Since when had he grown a beard?
Why had so much changed all around him he never remembered?
That blasted memory gun. Why did he even make it in the first place? Nothing made sense anymore. Tater had grown too fast, surely he was still only a sprout. Why had he missed so much of his kid and wife’s lives? All for that stupid project. It ruined everything.
It was the reason he made the gun, the reason he forgot more than he intended. It was just supposed to be a temporary solution but now it was out of hand. His hair was falling out and turning white from the stress, he was having gaps in his memory - only having started out as hours, turned into days, into weeks, into months and now into years of his child’s life. Of his life.
But he was home now, home with his wife and child. He was safe from Gravity falls, he wanted to enjoy this, he needed to enjoy this.
Just.. One more time wouldn’t hurt, right? He’d already done so much damage what was a little more?