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Sitting on the porch beside one another, Bill and Ford stared out into the night. There was a lot that could be said between them, should be said. But where would either of them even start? It had hardly been any time since his arrival, but things were moving fast, the whole family growing anxious of these strange incidents. How much worse would they get? Would they prey on the same targets again and again?
"So..." Ford cleared his throat, "Your next check-in is coming up."
"Yep," Bill answered awkwardly, "Couldn't forget even if I tried."
"How are you feeling, about everything?"
"...I don't know."
"That's unusual, isn't it?"
Bill scoffed, "My whole time here has been unusual. In case you haven't noticed."
Ford chuckled sadly, "It really has, hasn't it."
The silence between them hung thick, an ever familiar buzz between them. Bill thought back to the Mindscape, the days long past of bothering Ford there, just to see if he could make the man laugh, shout in surprise, or let out pleasured noises he never even knew he was capable of. The Ford beside him was different, and yet entirely the same. A hopeful twinkle in his eyes, regardless of the cruel truths and pains in the world. Bill didn't still grasp the entirety of what he'd done, in reality - much of it still seemed natural, justifiable, even right - but the little he did grasp...
"I'm sorry," he said, like it was enough to ease the wounds. Erase them, even.
Ford looked at him, curious, certainly surprised. "For what?"
"The scars. Your eye. I guess both of them, really."
He smiled, just a little bit. "It's nice to have an apology, no matter how late it is." Looking back to the sky, he pondered. "That's how I've been trying to see it, anyway. What's happened has happened, right? Nothing we can do to change it... well, without causing a whole lot of trouble, anyways."
Bill sighed, "I don't know about that. How can you just... think that?"
"I've had a lot of time to think, Bill. A lot. The world, human nature, things like 'fate' and 'destiny'," he explained, "Growing up, I learned that forgiveness was one of the most important things you could harbour - and that every action, for or against oneself, was the will of God. Therefore, it was only right not to stew in anger, no matter how badly a person wronged you, how horribly their actions hurt."
Bill listened in quiet contemplation, as Ford carried on. "Of course, I've had... let's say a troubled relationship with my faith for a long time, even before I met you. In a sense, it's a comforting line of thought - that every bad thing has been a test, a chance to prove your worth and grow stronger. At the same time, some people abuse the notion. They didn't do anything wrong to hit you, after all - God willed that you be taught a lesson, and that's what matters."
"The way I've come to see it... If someone's hitting you, you're not wrong to defend yourself. Sometimes that's the lesson itself, having the power and the right to put yourself first. Other times... the person is just being cruel, thinking they have the right to punish others on His behalf, even after you've learned your lesson. Truth is, whether it's God-given or not, we humans have language and intellect. And," he chuckled slightly, "well, a portion of non-human beings do, as well. It's only right to use them."
"...I've never thought about this stuff," Bill said, "If we had any similar concept... I- I never learned it. Never had the chance. I just knew the way people hated me..."
"Mm..." Ford pondered, "That's a shame, to not know. What do you remember, culturally?"
"Eh," Bill fidgeted his fingers on the cushion below him, "Lotta ways to be a freak. And if you did happen to be one, well, good luck. Even rhombuses were freaks, you know that? At least I had it alright as a triangle, but I think even if I were a circle I'd have been fucked," he sighed. "Uh, right. Circles were almost always jealous, pretentious pricks, usually looked out more for themselves than anyone else."
Ford snorted softly, "I always had a feeling, honestly."
"Yeah, it was bad sometimes... I don't know if I'd say it was a strict caste, but there were... expectations. Triangles, we kind of got a lot of the glory. Maybe that was our God," he chuckled sadly, "Mathematical perfection."
He nodded, contemplating himself. "That sounds hard, whether it was a literal figure of worship or not. Humans have never been able to agree, as I'm sure you've seen. And even among a singular practise, there are often many branches, people disagreeing even when they agree. I don't know how I feel about it anymore, I suppose. There are some lessons I've kept, some I haven't. Some things I've wondered, tried to answer, and never been able. It's kind of funny, actually," he mused, "Even here in Gravity Falls, I've never found conclusive evidence of a God. Not any of the ones humans look to, anyways. I don't know whether that means there isn't one, or if they're simply choosing to remain hidden despite it all."
"It'd probably start a massive war if they did show themself-or-selves," Bill answered, "As if humans haven't had enough of that."
"You have a point there," Ford smiled, "Whether there's one, a couple dozen, or an infinite amount... That's the last thing they'd want, probably. More blood being shed in their name." After a beat of silence, he cleared his throat, "We got a bit off-track, didn't we?"
"Guess so," Bill answered, "Sorry."
"No, it's strangely helpful, to talk about this with you," Ford answered. "Going back to the subject of forgiveness... I don't think there's a point in forgiving someone who hasn't changed, who won't change. When... you and I worked together, I tried to forgive you of a lot of horrible things. I would tell myself, he's a different kind of being entirely, I'm grateful he's even here. But..."
"...But it wasn't just that."
"Yes," he nodded. "From that point on, you deserved nothing from me, not even a shred of forgiveness. It would take hundreds upon hundreds of changes for you to be worthy of that ever again, if I even still had it in me to give it to you. And, well, I don't think I have to tell you that you weren't ever willing to go there."
"Yeah," Bill answered quietly, "I wouldn't say I am even now, I just haven't had a choice. Haven't had a single one in thousands of years."
Ford shook his head, "I think you're doing well, in spite of that. I'm not ready to forgive you, know that - and I'm far from the only person who deserves your apology, the only pains I can forgive are my own. But, maybe someday..." he trailed off into thought.
"...Stanford, why do you have so much hope in me?"
He sighed, leaning forward and looking into the stars. "I just... do. God or not, destiny or not, this is what's happening right now. And the Bill I see beside me is, in some ways, different from the Bill I once knew."
"You don't know the things I'd do if I was free."
"I have a fairly good idea," Ford chuckled softly, "But the things you think about doing aren't the things you're actually doing, now are they?"
Bill rolled his eye, "I guess not."
"So then," Ford asked, "How can I judge you on that?"
He scoffed, "Didn't stop any of them. Once a monster, always a monster."
"Yes, well... it's counterproductive, I agree." Then, the dreaded question. "Since we're talking about Theraprism, at the moment... Is there anything specific you'd like to talk about during your check-in?"
"I don't know."
"We could see if the twins have anything to say. Stan, as well, though he might not be as helpful..." Ford pondered. "How's that crochet going, by the way?"
Bill groaned, "Well, someone won't let me near Shooting Star again, so it's stalled out."
"Right," Ford sighed, tapping his fingers. "Of course, he means well for Mabel, I could never in a thousand years deny that. But we've all seen the pattern, at this point. You're alone with someone, and something happens to them. You're the only one there to help, and you do, telling the tale of your good deed."
"Yeah."
"He knows the worst side of you. The liar, the manipulator, the abuser. In his eyes, you're directly responsible for these incidents... But even if he could admit that you aren't, it's still a pattern that bears danger. Not that the two of you would be alone, given that I'd be there as well, but... it does make sense, in the end."
"...Yeah," Bill looked down into the grass. "I don't like it either, for the record. It's annoying."
"It's a little interesting, though," Ford said, "You could just walk away from these incidents, couldn't you?"
Bill rolled his eye, "You'd kill me if I did, and you know that."
"Probably so, but, it's still interesting. It sort of shows that you--"
"Okay!" Bill cut him off, throwing his hands up, "Getting into the 'making me feel like a freak' thing! Cut that shit out, Stanford."
"Hmm," Ford quirked an eyebrow, looking back at Bill, though he relented for the moment. "Sorry, then. Getting ahead of myself there."
"...Thanks," Bill mumbled, crossing his arms and looking away from Ford. They fell into another lull, then, thoughts carried by the gentle night breeze. His mind wandered to thoughts of the Mindscape once again, dreams he'd built in his own desperation to be admired and loved. He made a starry sky, once - if they looked closely, they could see the imprints of Bill's hands, desperately trying to hold the stars together. He'd been ashamed of the creation, that he couldn't live up to the perfection that the stars really shone with, but what Ford had said was--
"It's absolutely perfect, my Muse."
This night wasn't like that one, of course. He had no hand in creating this starry sky, nor did he have Ford's admiration. Care, in a sense, some kind of respect. But not admiration. He would be lucky if Ford could ever consider him merely a friend again.
He did still have one question, though.
"...Aren't you worried for yourself?" he asked.
Ford answered with a question of his own, "Why would I be?"
"You said it yourself. The pattern. These things always strike when I'm alone with someone."
"Hmm," Ford hummed, "That's true. But it hasn't yet, has it? Besides that, I do trust you to do what it takes if something should happen, believe it or not."
"...Can I choose not?"
He chuckled, then. "Sure, sure. But that just means I'm going to..." He got up off the couch, stretching until his back popped and he grunted quietly. He stepped down the porch, out into the yard.
"Watch this," he said, grinning from ear to ear as he turned to look at Bill. Then, he shouted, "Hey! Whoever you are that's tormenting us, come at me! I dare you, right now!"
Bill screeched, hopping off the couch to scramble over to him. "Stanford, are you out of your mind?!"
Ford just laughed at that. "Oh, maybe I am! You never know anymore - genius takes a certain level of madness, don't you think?"
"This isn't funny!" Bill huffed, grabbing onto Ford's pant leg and trying to pull him back to the safety of the house. "Come on, you of all people- there's so much more out here than just whatever's coming after everyone!"
"You think?" Ford beamed, "We'll fight 'em off together."
"What's gotten into you?"
He shook his head with a bright laugh, "Nothing at all. Look, has anything changed?"
Still desperately holding onto Ford's pant leg, Bill reluctantly paused to observe. Nothing had come out of the shadows, the wind hadn't picked up, no freak weather was crashing down on them. It was almost eerily quiet, considering the way Ford had just been shouting.
"I-I don't get it," Bill said, "But can we just go back to the house now?"
"Hmm," Ford hummed, "One more moment..." He took a deep breath, as if savouring the night air. "Yep, we're good to go now."
As they made their way back, Bill said, "I still can't believe you've never died. You realise how dangerous that was?!"
"Of course," Ford answered, "But a man has to test a hypothesis somehow."
"A hypothesis?! You risked your life for a--" Bill groaned, "Oh, who am I kidding, you're the same Stanford you always were!"
"Think about it," he explained, "Why hasn't it been Melody, Wendy, or Soos?"
"I don't know. Does it matter?"
"You're on good terms with Melody. Wendy, you could be doing better, but you're not at each other's throats now. You're even warming up to Soos, I've noticed, as is he to you. Stan and the kids, though? You swore us all as your mortal enemies. And between the four of us..."
"...I don't like what you're saying," Bill deadpanned.
"You don't have to like it, but I think we should consider it," Ford nodded, "That this has something to do with your hatred towards the others. Now, it could be some form of a test. It could also be something that's using your hatred as a food source... Or at the very least, it's attracted to our family because of your hatred. Then we also have to think, maybe it knows of your predicament with Theraprism, and it's trying to get you into trouble... There's even a chance--"
"Was our whole conversation just a ploy to test this?" Bill cut him off, clenching his fists.
"No," Ford shook his head, "Not at all. It's been an enlightening conversation, and I think we've both touched on things that we've needed to say for a while now. It just happened to give me a convenient chance. Can you trust that I mean that, Bill?"
Bill squeezed his eye shut, then relaxed with a frustrated sigh. "Fine. I trust you. Only because I know how shit of a liar you are."
Ford snorted quietly, "Glad to hear it. We should get back inside soon, but... do you want a few more minutes with the stars?"
"...Yeah. That'd be... nice."