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It had been months. Months. And yet, every single moment felt like unbearable agony to Ford. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. He refused to eat, despite Mabel and Dipper's constant, desperate pleas. Lords above, he loved those kids, but they couldn’t fill the void that had hollowed him out since the moment he woke up on their boat two weeks after their 91st birthday. They didn’t sail anymore, they had retired from the treasure hunting and journing the world but the past few years of just joking and spending some much needed time with Stanley in with the most content he had ever felt. The boat was docked in Gravity Falls Lake, now serving as a home while Soos, his wife, and their kids checked in on them.
Ford had been stunned when Stanley had lived as long as he did especially when given the reckless choices, the toll on his body, and the way Stan had always flirted with disaster. But they’d never called Stanley a stubborn bastard for nothing. They had celebrated their 91st birthday together, they couldn’t do much, but Mabel and Dipper were there, Soos and Wendy visited, and even Tate McGucket had stopped by to wish him a happy birthday on behalf of Fiddleford, who had passed years earlier. It was a good day. A sunny day. But it was all Ford could have asked for. Surrounded by family. By his twin. He couldn't ask for more.
But then, just two weeks later, Ford woke up that morning fresh as a daisy, ready to relax and fish with Stan and maybe even watch some trashy from come, they had the new duchess approves reboot saved to watch together. But from the moment his eyes opened, something felt wrong. Too quiet. Too still. He couldn’t hear his brother’s snoring. He couldn’t hear the shuffle of slippers across the deck. His heart plummeted as dread consumed him, and he shot out of bed in a panic.
He reached Stanley’s room, and his hands trembled as he shook him awake, but the moment his fingers met his brother's cold skin, a strangled sound tore from his throat.
"No... no... no, Stanley! Stanley, please, this isn’t funny. Please, Lee, open your eyes... please...open them for me.Come on, please, Stanley... don’t leave me… No…" Ford’s voice broke into desperate sobs as he shook his brother’s still body, the peaceful smile on Stanley's face only breaking him further.
Stanley had been so stubborn. So full of life. So sure he’d be the one to outlive them all. Ford had always assumed that he would be the one to die first—Bill’s prophecy haunting him, his own certainty that he’d never make it past their 92nd birthday. But right now, in this moment, Ford wished he was already 92. He wished it so he could just slip away and join his twin. His other half.
Ford stood up, shaking, trying to steady his breath, but his eyes fell on the calendar, and everything froze around him. How long had they been together? He begged for the answer to be that they’d spent more time together than apart. But his brain couldn’t process anything right now. It didn’t matter. He just collapsed again, his sobs coming harder, chest tightening, feeling like the weight of the world was bearing down on him.
But instead of the familiar voice calling him “Sixer” to pull him back, to bring him comfort, there was only silence. Cold, empty silence. He was alone. The most important person in his life was gone. Forever.
Ford crawled into the bed, clutching Stanley’s cold body against him. He pulled the still form close, smoothing his brother’s hair like he used to, muttering over and over, “It’s okay, baby brother. You’re safe now. I’ve got you… I’ve got you…” His voice was soft, barely a whisper, before exhaustion finally took him under. He cried himself to sleep, surrounded by a silence too thick to bear.
He couldn’t tell anyone. He just couldn’t. The thought of it made him feel sick. How could he tell anyone that Stanley was gone? How could he explain that his entire world had shattered in the span of one breath? So, he waited. For days. As Stanley’s body slowly decomposed in their boat—their paradise, the place they had dreamed of together, the place that was supposed to be their happy ending. It was now just a tomb.
The smell finally broke him. It snapped him back to reality, to the fact that he could no longer keep this to himself. He called Soos. He called the kids. It was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. His face was unshaven, his body weak from days of grief and neglect. One look in the mirror had him breaking again. In the reflection, he saw Stanley. Saw him so clearly it felt like a cruel joke. He reached out to touch the image, hoping for an illusion. But when his hand pressed against the glass, it shattered everything within him, he didn't know how long he had collapsed to his knees, struggling to breath while it felt like he was back being electrocuted again, hell he would happily suffer through that over and over again than suffer through the feeling and knowing that Stanley was dead, was never coming back, his twin was gone.
It had been weeks since that day. Ford wasn’t the same. He had become a shell of himself. He remembered when he had finally called everyone to prepare for the inevitable. The day they took Stanley out to sea. He knew that’s where Stan would have wanted to be buried. Not in a fancy suit, but in his usual clothes, just like he always was. Ford had wrapped his beige trench coat around Stanley’s lifeless form. And in the pocket, he’d tucked a picture of them as kids on the Stan O’War, preserved in a waterproof case. He wanted to give his brother something in death—anything to bring him comfort now.
Ford had held Mabel and Dipper close that day. They were all a mess. Still were. They still missed him, and Ford couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever stop feeling like something was missing. He made sure a memorial for Stanley existed somewhere in Gravity Falls, though he could no longer remember where. The days had all blurred together. He didn’t go outside anymore. The world had lost its color. It all felt so... hollow.
He tried to be there for the kids. Well, they weren’t kids anymore, but they would always be his and Stanley’s kids. He imagined Stanley’s voice, nudging him, that loud, proud “Damn right they are.” And it cut through him like a knife. He moved through each day, like a zombie. He had no real reason to keep going.Of coursehe had reasons, Mabel, Dipper and everyone else, but how could he enjoy anything when the person who made everything worth it was no longer by his side?
How could he live when Stanley wasn’t there to laugh with him, to get into trouble, to share all the victories and losses, to be together like they always promised? Wherever they went, they went together. Right?
When his 92nd birthday came, it was a somber day. But for the first time in almost a year, Ford had a faint glimmer of hope. It wasn’t much, but it was something. He’d given Dipper his journals plus he given Dipper another one, it was one him and Stanley had worked on, he hoped that Dipper would continue the work alongside Mabel. The day passed quietly. Dipper and Mabel hugged him. Soos and Wendy spoke to him, and then they spent time through eating a very glittery cake curtesy of Mabel while people spoke about Stan.
It hurt, listening to stories about Stanley, it hurt spending his first birthday in like 30ish years without Stanley after having his brother back by his side. He had so many regrets, he wanted to go back, back to the science fair so he could never go a day without Stanley again, then he'd feel whole, he couldn't be here, faking a smile while his heart, his body, his whole life was now numb and worthless, he'd given up, he was tired, almost a year without Stanley, he wanted to go home, but his home was no longer reachable.
He had mumbled that he needed to take a breather and he was thankful that his family allowed him to leave and take some time for himself, slowly walking back onto the boat and over to an area on the deck of the boat.
Ford walked over to Stanley’s chair on the deck, a chair no one ever sat in. It had always been Stanley’s chair. Slowly, he sank into the chair opposite and let the sound of his family’s laughter wash over him, feeling the rush of wind on his face.
“I miss you, Stan,” he whispered. “Almost a year, and every day I’m falling apart. How did you survive for thirty years not knowing if I was alive or dead? At least with you, you had hope... But me? I know you’re never coming back.” His voice trembled, shoulders shaking as his gaze fell to the empty space beside him. “I almost went back, to that stupid cave. I almost did that stupid ritual or that stupid spell... I was... I still am so angry, how dare they take you from me how dare I have to spend a birthday without you, I hate this I hate this I hate this!" He screamed and punched the table, hurting his hand in the process which he didn't care to look at or worry about before he was gripped said table until his knuckles went white. "I thought... if there was a chance, I would have done anything to bring you back. I would have destroyed the world... just to have you back with me, even if it meant beinging him back, I know that you would have hated me, but at least you would have been alive on this earth, I would have made one more deal to have you here with me, I can't deal with this Stanley, I can't pretend that I'm okay.”
His voice cracked, breaking as the flood of grief overwhelmed him. His breath caught in his chest as he sat alone, unable to breathe without the weight of loss pressing down on him, the ache of absence threatening to tear him apart.
He had felt the comforting arms of his family, could hear Dipper's comforting words and Mabel's arms were wrapped around him as he sobbed pathetically in their arms, he was supposed to be strong in front of them, he was their Grunkle Ford for fucks sake, the author of the journals, Dipper's idol, Mabel's sweater town buddy, he couldn't show just how broken he was, but he couldn't, not today, the first birthday he has without Stanley.
He spent the rest of his birthday, gently talking with Mabel and Dipper and watching some old family videos, just to feel something other than sadness today, and he was glad for the company with his niece and nephew. He said goodbye to them, squeezing them tightly when they had to go back to their own homes and families, he knew this would be the last time he saw them. He told them how much he loved them and thanked them for everything, and he could tell they sensed that this was a final goodbye as well. When Mabel hugged him one last time she whispered into his ear. "Say hi to Grunkle Stan for me when you see him, tell him we miss him and love him so much." She had pulled away with tears in her eyes before squeezing his hands. "Still a full finger friendlier than normal." She winked, her smile watery before she walked off with Dipper.
After that it was a waiting game for Ford, but each day of waiting left him sadder and more desperate, he stopped eating, stopped drinking as the days after his birthday went on, he was in a much worser state than when he was paranoid and waiting for Stan when Bill was after him and sending someone after his eyes. He just didn't care anymore. And like Stanley, two weeks after his birthday, he laid in bed, crying since now it had been a whole year since Stan died, since he was left alone. His heart ached, not just emotionally, but physically. He’d felt it for days, this strange, tight pressure in his chest, the way his breath would hitch when the pain hit him too hard. But tonight, it was unbearable. “Heart attack at 92, Bill was spot on.” Ford whispered hoarsely to the empty room, the tears already falling. His vision blurred, but he didn’t try to wipe them away.
The pain was unbearable now, sharp, like knives digging into his ribs, and yet, Ford didn’t fight it. Instead, he welcomed it. For so long, he had fought to hold on to life, to hold on to anything that kept him tethered to the world without his brother. But now… he was too tired, he was ready, and he had knew that even if they didn't want to, he had Dipper and Mabel's blessings to go.
He had spent so many sleepless nights staring at the empty side of the bed, at the space where Stan used to be, where their conversations used to be. How did anyone keep going after losing their twin? Their other half? The grief was suffocating. But knowing what was going on with him, he couldn't help but laugh, but smile, because he knew this was it, this was the end and he was ready, he would welcome death after being afraid of it for so many years when he was alone.
The tightness in his chest began to grow sharper, a deep, crushing pain. Ford gasped for air, clutching his chest, it felt like something was squeezing the life out of him, but in a strange way, he wasn’t scared. "Stanley? Are you waiting for me knucklehead?" He croaked out as he felt the feeling of a fog over his brain as he felt his eyes droop, he dropped his hand and looked up onto the ceiling. "I'm on my way, hey Stanley, you ready?" And Ford finally let go, his breathing slowed and he finally joined his brother again after a year of being apart, dying on his bed with a picture of the two on them in one of his hands.