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The world lost a lot of its colour the day it happened.
Ford found himself sitting on the old porch seat more often than not, staring into the middle distance as his tears refused to fall and his walls closed down entirely to leave him in a buzzing half state that he couldn’t quite pull himself out of. It was funny really, ironic in a sick way that twisted sharp and cold deep into his core. In a way that would have left him hysterical if he had the energy to do anything at all. The world had seemed too bright, too weird when Bill took over and yet now in contrast, with everything over and the world back to normal…
It felt cold, empty…distant. Like he had been hollowed out and the world had followed suit along the way.
It wasn’t just him. The bustling weird little town that he had made a home for himself in, many decades ago felt subdued, as if they had lost even when they were victorious. A myriad of people made their way up to the shack but he lost track of time, lost track of faces really, when they all held the same dejected look that he couldn’t seem to muster himself.
The kids had lost something in themselves too.
Mabel’s usual smiles were always tinged with a sadness he found hard to face even as she tried her best to keep their little family together. She was so strong, he knew he had to be strong too, stronger even. Strong for her and her brother, not the other way around as seemed to be happening.
Dipper on the other hand had withdrawn further into himself, had taken to wandering through the forest alone but with no journal in sight as if the research had betrayed him, as if it was that that had taken everything away from him.
He was right in a sense, but Ford felt like he was laying the blame at the concept instead of where it actually lay.
Or maybe he did know. Ford shifted as the thought popped up, unbidden and lurching in its own way. Mabel came out to check on him every so often but Dipper…Dipper hardly came out to speak to him at all.
Or maybe it was because he didn’t want to see his idol not coping.
Ford sighed, running a hand over his face as he tried to snap himself out of his ever present stupor. This wouldn’t do. He had the kids to think about. He had to show them that everything would be OK in the end even if it didn’t feel like it.
Even when nothing felt like it used to and all he wanted to do was find a nice quiet corner and pretend the world didn’t exist.
No. Ford glared at nothing, his mind teeming back to life slowly but surely. That was enough of that type of thinking, enough of this lethargic sway that held him in its grasp.
He had the kids to focus on, they would get him through this.
He stood up from his seat, determination filling up the empty corners of his soul until his eyes were drawn to Stan’s car, still sitting in its familiar spot outside the shack and suddenly he was frozen in place again.
The car looked wrong, fake against the grey clouded sky and the browning trees. The red seemed to drip and meld before him like a mirage that shouldn’t be there.
But no one had moved it, no one had dared touch it. Part of him was glad but part of him never wanted to see the garish thing again. None of Stan’s things had been touched for that matter, all left exactly where they should be. Not since Dipper had caught someone trying to hide them away. When the shack was in shambles and instead of putting his things back where they had been before Weirdmaggedon they had started to box them up.
No one had ever seen Dipper so angry before.
His heart panged at the memory. He wondered where Dipper was at that moment. If he needed him.
Was it him he needed though? Really?
His eyes went to the car again, unwittingly and his mind seemed to close up, his barriers building up around his heart again as he whispered. “I don’t know how to do this, Stan. How did you do this?”
No one was there to answer him. No snide remark or sarcastic eye roll to irritate and endear him all at the same time.
He wished that was the furthest thing from the truth but it wasn’t.
Stan had done everything to protect his family, he had given up his mind to make sure Bill never returned.
The only problem was the risk had been far greater than either of them had imagined.
When Fiddleford had erased his mind he had been a young man, his body could cope with the physical strain it had put on him. The multiple charges had done their damage but he could heal, even if his mind had taken far longer to come to terms with the assault.
Stan’s body, however, could not.
Ford felt his teeth grit as Bill’s cackle echoed through his head. He wondered if he would be gloating in that moment if he was still around. Gloating about everything that had happened. The intrusive voice in Ford’s head that reminded him of everything he had done to cause it.
But instead he just felt numb to it all, numb to the world and its inhabitants.
If he didn’t know better he could almost pretend this dimension had never been his to begin with.
But he did know better.
And he knew that Bill would never be coming back to haunt him.
But neither would Stan.
It felt like he had stood there for eons before Ford finally dragged himself towards the door again. In reality it could have been anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours as his mind ignored the passing of time in favour of his grief and the ever present clouds took away any information he would have gleaned from the suns movements.
He pushed the door open, the loud creak it made against the now typical silence making him wince slightly. He stopped the movement, gripping the door handle tightly as he waited for one of the kids to call out to him.
He didn’t know whether he was ready to face them just yet.
A noise he hadn’t been expecting made him freeze, ice dripping down his back in sudden dread as his mind whirred abruptly to life.
It was the first real feeling he had had in days.
The creaking, groaning sound continued.
And yet the door was motionless, held tight beneath his now white-knuckled fingers.
A loud crack echoed through the air behind him, a sudden intense static climbing up his back as the air pressure changed in a familiar yet disturbing way.
He spun around, hand coming up instantly to shield his eyes from the bright luminescent glow they were assaulted with.
In the middle of the lawn, hiding Stan’s car from sight was a portal, one filled with light and colour and took his breath away. His mind spun, tearing away the cobwebs that had started to line it as a figure emerged. Why on Earth was a portal opening? Who was coming through? What did they want?
His mind dredged up many a creature who might still wish him ill and yet he couldn’t get his feet to move him, to hide or to fight.
He was too tired.
He had fought so hard. Fought to survive. Fought to return home without opening Bill’s portal. Fought with his brother when he finally made it home. Fought Bill to protect the world.
He was done fighting.
He waited with bated breath as the figure finally took their final step out of the portal, his curiosity still managing to sidle through even if his self-preservation would not spark up the same passion.
His eyes narrowed, squinting against the harsh glare that was silhouetting the being. Was this how the twins had felt when he’d come through? When they hadn’t known why Stan had been opening the portal?
He didn’t have long to fathom it all as the being pressed a button at their side and the portal vanished, its blinding light leaving specks and swirls on Ford’s retinas every time he blinked.
The door swung open behind him as his grip loosened in shock, the door falling and snapping back against the wall with a loud jolt that went perfectly well with the nauseating feelings resting within him.
Stanley was staring back at him, his face mirroring Ford’s as his mouth opened in shock whilst his eyes stayed guarded and hostile.
“Stanford?”
It was him speaking that brought Ford back from his minds short circuiting.
He knew about the multiverse, knew from experience that if you travelled far enough, normally without intention, you would find a dimension that looked like yours had. One that smelled and tasted like yours had even. But there was always a difference, always one big detail that had changed or been misplaced.
He’d found one where he’d never gotten the portal to work.
Another where his science project had never been broken.
And just like that he knew that this Stanley had done the same as he had.
He didn’t know how. Not really. Maybe it was wishful thinking. Maybe he didn’t want to think about what else this could be. A mirage sent to trick him, a trap to drag him back into the multiverse. But something about him…
Something about the way he held himself. This Stanley. How he twitched and turned, never truly staying put. How his hair trailed down his back, unkempt and tangled, reminding him of a younger man who had once lived out of his car though he hadn’t known it at the time. How his clothes and boots were sturdy and the muscles underneath weren’t for show. How he knew with a cold calculated certainty that the man before him was covered in concealed weapons.
It reminded him of himself when he wandered whether his feet would take him, ever hopeful that the next jump would take him where he wanted but so very suspicious of his surroundings no matter where he ended up.
No this was not a trap.
This was a Stanley who had found his way into the wrong dimension.
“Hello? Earth to Poindexter?”
God. He even sounded like him.
“Stanley?” Ford felt the word creep passed his lips. It crackled against his throat, dry and unyielding after a long time of misuse.
The man in front of him brightened up, stepping closer, arms spreading out towards him.
Ford took a step back in response.
“Have I done it? Are you-”
Ford shook his head before he could continue. The look of disappointment and pain on the man’s face in response had him floundering for words. Somehow it was still unacceptable even if he knew it was not his Stan. “N-No. I’m sorry. You’re not- this isn’t-”
Stan sighed, shaking his head. “Don’t mention it. It’s not the first time.” He stood up straight, taking another look around the area as he went. “Damn, felt like I was close this time. Took a gamble. You wouldn’t be able to help me though, would you? You were always the smart one.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You know. Help me get back to my own dimension? I bet you’ve still got that portal down in the basement fired up to come get m-” The man stopped as Ford continued to stay silent, face distraught at the very thought. Stan’s face dropped, his eyes alarmed and his face paling, thoughts of his own dimension obviously ringing through his head. “You…you did keep looking for me, right?”
“You fell through the portal?” Ford didn’t know why he was entertaining this conversation, why he felt the need to talk to this man who was and wasn’t his brother all at the same time. It felt all kinds of wrong, like he was humouring an imposter.
But at the same time he desperately needed it. Desperately needed just one more moment. One moment with his brother that wasn’t filled with remorse.
“Oh? Did I not fall through the portal in this one?”
Ford hated that his words were so nonchalant. Like he was just stopping by and listening to a story about himself that had the details wrong. This was his life, his story. And yet he knew he’d probably been just as bad himself when he had done the same. When the dimensions were darker and somehow worse than his own tale. He had removed himself from the centre when he encountered those, made it about someone else, somewhere else and pretended it had never happened.
“No, I did.”
If he had happened across this man’s dimension he would have probably done the same. The thought of Stan falling through the portal instead of himself was a theory he had never let himself contemplate.
It didn’t matter that Stan had pushed him in his anger or the accident that had befallen from the action, he would never wish that fate on anyone. Let alone his brother.
“Oh.” Stan blinked at him a few times, his face unreadable for a few moments in a way that sent another dagger through Ford’s heart. He’d always been able to read Stan, even after everything. Even as he had succeeded in conning everyone else, he had known that his brother was hurt and lost. That he had hurt him but he had crushed that swirling guilt before it could rise. He had been just as wounded at the time by his brother’s actions, he’d felt justified.
Now he just felt hollow.
The man grinning dragged him out of his sad reverie. “Well, I guess that’s one thing settled. I always said it was better me than you that fell through the portal. Didn’t think my nerd of a brother would have survived. Guess you proved me wrong.”
“Yeah, guess I did.”
Stan looked him up and down, eyebrow raised as his smile twisted downwards into a frown of concern. He took in his guarded words, his pallid complexion and unwashed clothes in greater scrutiny. Ford felt judged, his skin crawling beneath the gaze. “Though, guess I’m still going to have to say rather me than you still. Where’s your Stan-”
“Grunkle Ford, are you OK? We heard the door slam and we wondered whether you were finally hungry? It’s OK though if you want us to leave you alone for a bit longer…”
Ford spun around as Mabel came into view, her sweater muted and her face not sporting the beaming smile that he’d grown to love. Before he could stop her though she caught sight of him, her eyes widening to the size of plates as she took in the new addition to the yard.
“Mabel, let me explain.”
“Grunkle Ford, did you raise the dead? I won’t be mad at you like I was that time with Dipper.”
Ford winced at the quiet voice, the hushed awe and tight but sad hope ringing through her words. He crouched down beside her, put a hand on her shoulder as she glanced so sincerely up at him. “N-no, Mabel.”
“What’s this? There are kids here?”
Ford looked back at the other man, whose face was now alight with curiosity. He’d obviously never seen the kids before through his travels, but then again neither had Ford before he found his dimension. “This is Mabel. She’s one of Shermie’s Grandkids.” He couldn’t help but parallel the scene to Stan explaining the same to him when he first came through, his fingers clenching and unclenching in Mabel’s sweater.
“I have a Great niece?”
“And nephew. Dipper’s here somewhere, they’re both 12.”
Stan’s eyes seemed to dance with the light in them as he held his hands up to slow Ford down. “Wait, wait. Slow down. We have more twins in the family? Are they just like us-”
“Who is that?”
Ford gulped at the dark voice that came from the gloomy hallway. Dipper had become angry in his grief, not that he blamed him but he had a feeling this was not going to end well.
Dipper slunk out of the hallway, crossbow poised in hand as he glared at the man through sleepless eyes. “Grunkle Ford, whatever he’s said, don’t listen to him. That’s the shapeshifter. It’s got to be.”
“Shapeshifter? Raising the dead? I think I’m missing some vital points here.” Stan raised a hand as if asking a question before putting both up placatingly as Dipper’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I can’t say that I wasn’t expecting reactions like this if I’m honest. I mean. You’ve already got a Stan wandering around, haven’t you? Must be weird to see another one.”
“Dipper. You know how I told you about the multiverse-”
“No. He’s not just – there are no other Grunkle Stan’s. He’s a trick, a trap. Bill’s still around and he just wants to hurt us for defeating him.” Dipper’s hands shook as he spoke, an obvious tremor displacing the solid certainty in his eyes.
“Bill? Defeated him? Listen kid, I get that you’ve got your own – Grunkle? Stan. And I’m just passing through-”
“Liar.” Dipper snarled, ignoring Mabel’s hand as she tried to push the crossbow down and away.
“Dip-dop, come on. Let’s just listen OK? I’m sure there’s a logical explanation to all this.”
“No, we can’t trust him- it – whatever it is!”
“Wow, have I entered a paranoia dimension? Like yeesh, you all look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Silence met his words for a moment, and his eyes seemed to widen slightly in understanding. Mabel buried her head into Dipper’s shoulder, hugging him tight even if it did nothing to his locked up stance.
“I think it would be best if you stopped talking.” Ford sighed, rubbing at his face. He ignored the salute Stan gave him in response, face cocky and unperturbed by the situation.
God it was like dealing with a teenage Stan masquerading as an old man.
“If you say so Sixer, but you all sound like Ma after her 10th cup of coffee.”
Then again the other seemed to think he was acting the exact same way he had been 30 years ago, the words ringing in his head so familiar and yet so foreign all at once.
“Don’t call him that! You don’t get to call him that.”
“Dipper, please listen. I know that this is hard and I know that that’s not Stan but you have to believe me that he’s also not a monster pretending to be him.” Ford sunk to one knee in front of Dipper. He didn’t really know why he was pleading this man’s case, why he didn’t tell him to just carry on his way and go to the next dimension but it felt like a chance. Like he was in a dream and had been given a chance to fix things, even if only a little. “He’s just a man lost from his own dimension. I was the same, you know? Before Stan managed to get me back. He’s not staying and I know this is bad timing but if you would let me explain properly-”
“No! That’s not him! We lost him, Grunkle Ford! And he’s not coming back!” Dipper’s lip trembled as he sniffed. He took one more look between them all before he lowered the crossbow and grabbed Mabel’s hand, tugging her back towards the house, unable to look at the man across from him as he grabbed the brim of his hat and clutched it tightly as if scared it would vanish if he didn’t. “Do what you want but I don’t trust him and I’m going to make damn sure he doesn’t come near me or Mabel.”
An oppressive silence filled the area as the twins departed, a tension brewing as both men stared after them. Mabel chanced one more look back at them, her mouth opening before she looked away sadly and shook her head, closing the door behind them.
“O…K. I think you’re going to have to fill me in on a few details here.”
“You could just leave.” Ford found the words, monotone and sour against his tongue as he sunk back into the porch seat, his head in his hands. He didn’t want him to. His heart wanted this selfish little moment but he couldn’t have the twins being hurt by it. He’d figure it out, he’d solve it all on his own.
He had to.
Besides, this Stan had no reason to stay. Why he hadn’t done anything when Dipper pointed the crossbow at him was beyond Ford’s comprehension.
“…No.”
Ford blinked, glancing back up as the man took the seat beside him. “Why?”
“Hey. I have no idea where the next portal will take me. It could get me one step closer or one step further away from my Sixer.”
He raised an eyebrow, looking Ford up and down one more time as he crossed his arms.
“And it looks to me like there’s one right here who could use a helping hand. And if you’re anything like my Ford…well, he got to the point 30 years ago where for some reason he didn’t think he could trust anyone but me and I’m thinking you did the same. So I’m all ears, correct dimension or not.”
“So?”
“I don’t know where to start?”
“The beginning is always good.”
Ford rolled his eyes as Stan shrugged, twitching in the porch seat beside him. “I guess I don’t know how much you know?”
“Pretend I know nothing then. Which is pretty much true. I fell through the portal before my Ford could explain anything to me.”
Ford took a minute to collect his thoughts before nodding. He missed out their childhood, missed out their teenage years and started when he came to Gravity Falls, told him about Fiddleford and Bill. Told him about the portal and all the things it did and what it caused. He told him about the sleeplessness, the paranoia that drove him to call his brother.
He skipped out their fighting, it was just too much to think about and jumped ahead instead to coming through the portal again.
To coming home and being angry at his Stan. He explained it all to this man, explained exactly why he had been so upset to be home when the other man seemed ready to question it after he had been seeking his for so long.
He told him about what the rift had caused, the fates that had befallen them.
He told him how Stan died. As weird as that felt.
To tell Stan how Stan died.
The man listened, quiet and probing only when Ford faltered. It felt good. Like he was ripping open the wound all over again but in a cleansing way. It hadn’t healed properly on its own, it needed to be stitched back together seam by seam instead of left to fester as he had done for the last few terrible days.
It was when his story ended that the man seemed to broach a subject he hadn’t been expecting.
“Does that mean…would you have opened the portal back up if your brother had fallen through?”
Ford froze, his mind whirring away at the possibility he hated to even contemplate. The thought of Stan falling through. Of having to make the decision between getting him back, dragging him out of the twisted dimension that had turned his friend mad within mere seconds or doing what was best for the world and locking the portal up for good so that Bill could not come through as well. “I know what I’d like to think I’d have done. In that position. I like to think I would have had the guts to open it for him.”
“But you’re not sure?”
“…No.”
Hesitation pulsed through Ford as Stan put his head in his hands and slumped forwards. Guilt engulfed him as he stretched his hand out, wanting to comfort but already kicking himself that yet again he’d ruined it, ruined something and now another Stan felt lost in the world and he didn’t know how to fix it. He steeled himself, patting the man’s arm. “I’m sorry. I’m sure your Ford will-”
“How can you be sure?” The man spat, spinning round to glare at him. His eyes were hurt, betrayed. A mountain of years upon years of hoping for something that might never happen burned through the gaze. “You called me worthless.”
“I did what?” Ford’s stomach dropped, his hand falling as if it had been burned away from the man. “I never- I didn’t-”
Stan’s eyes narrowed as he sat up, staring out at the lawn as if Ford wasn’t there next to him anymore. The anger seemed to leave him, deflate him in a way that made Ford look away. Even his Stan always held an edge of power to him, to see him sink into despair was not a new experience he wanted engrained into his memories along with everything else. “You’re right. It wasn’t you. My Ford…he said-” He laughed, the sound more of a choked noise without any mirth than the gruff laughter Ford was used to hearing. “He said if I helped him it would be the first worthwhile thing I had done with my life.”
Oh.
A ringing started in Ford’s ears, a small dagger plunged into his heart as he remembered that argument, that moment.
“You did the same, didn’t you?”
A small squeak left Ford, the only noise he could manage passed his tightening throat. He could feel Stan getting irritated beside him, could feel it pulsing off him in waves.
Good.
“You had no idea what he had been through. No idea, neither of you. How would you have known whether I- either of us, had done anything worthwhile?”
He shook his head, still staying quiet and staring at his knees.
He needed someone to yell at him, to tear into him and make everything flood out.
Make him bleed his grief, his guilt, his remorse.
“Did you ever ask him? Did you two ever sit down and talk?”
Ford closed his eyes against the pain laced quiet voice that filtered through his ears. It was like poison, seeping in and killing him slowly when all he wanted was for the man to get angry. To yell and scream and tear him to shreds so he couldn’t feel anything anymore.
“We didn’t get the chance. I was still too angry, too scared that the world could end from his foolish mistake.”
“He brought you home.”
“He brought about the apocalypse.” Ford opened his eyes, Stan’s stared back at him, hurt but understanding in a way he had never thought possible. “And then I lost him.”
They stared at each other for a while. Ford felt something inside him open, unfurling like a string wound too tightly. It was a small amount of acceptance, of speaking the truth as he saw it and letting it scatter to the winds.
He had lost his brother before he had had a chance to make amends. That was what ached so much.
It didn’t matter anymore whose fault it was, who had done what. Stan was gone and he’d never have a second chance with him again.
He lost him.
“You shouldn’t have been mad at him. For bringing you back through when you hope you would have done the same for him.”
“Yeah. Maybe. Hindsight’s a bitch.”
Stan snorted, glad to see a small smile twist onto the other man’s face at letting the words fly out without thought.
“Let’s talk about nicer things.”
“No, tell me.”
“Hmm?” Stan blinked at him, tilting his head.
“You said, I called you worthless. So maybe…maybe things didn’t change until the portal incident.” Ford gulped, his fingers playing with the threadbare chair. “Can you tell me what life was like? Between being kicked out and us meeting again?”
“It’s not a pretty story, Ford.”
“No, but it’s one I should have listened to.”
They sat for hours after that, Ford listening intently. Laughing at every escapade and exaggerated fool proof scheme. Making small noises of discontent when the stories grew rougher and the man tried to downplay them. Small flickers of memory came to him, words his brother had said when they had fought as the man spoke about his past. It was either the same sad tale or very similar and it was enough to let him pretend that if he closed his eyes his brother was sitting beside him and telling him these moments in his life that he had missed out on.
But all too soon the moment had passed and Ford remembered that time moved on even if he wasn’t ready to.
“It’s getting late, we should- I mean, you-” Ford frowned, gesturing towards the house. His mind stalled a bit at the image that had arisen, of pointing out the one spare bed in the house, a room that had been utterly preserved by the young twins and more often than not had at least one of them of a night curled up there. It didn’t matter whether they’d locked it up tight or used it regularly though, the thought of this person, so similar but so different sleeping in his space was...
Frankly the thought itself made his stomach roll.
But he couldn’t sleep there himself. That had the same screaming rejection from his mind. He could offer his own sleeping quarters, or the sofa, though, that was the least he could do.
As he was about to do just that, a new image flashed before his eyes. A sparkling bubbling anger that seemed to fizz over at the lightest touch these days reminding him that he had to think about everyone else in the house as well.
“I, uhh, I don’t think Dipper would be impressed with me welcoming you into the house.”
Stan snorted, stretching his arms and settling deeper into the chair. “Smart kid if you ask me. Though he probably shouldn’t be so obviously confrontational. Got me a few scars for wearing my heart on my sleeves.” He tapped at a scar poking through the top of his shirt with a grimace. “But you don’t have to worry about me none, this seat you’ve got here is about the comfiest thing I’ll have slept on in years.” He glanced over at Ford in that moment, catching his warring emotions dance across his face. “It is OK for me to sleep here, right?”
“Yes, of course! I mean, no-” Ford sighed, rubbing underneath his glasses. “You shouldn’t have to sleep out here.”
“Six- Ford, you’ve lived on the other side of the portal. This is a luxury.”
It shouldn’t be though! Not for you!
“Yeah, I know.” Ford whispered, shaking the thoughts from his head. It had taken a few nights to get used to the sofa he slept on in his office after he had come back through. It had been too much. Too comfortable, too warm. A trap waiting to ensnare him. He hated that Stan had ever felt the same but in hindsight, he had probably already felt that when they had met 30 years ago. When sleeping in a car was the best option more often than not. He stood up slowly, smile slightly off as he wandered back into the house. “At least let me get you a blanket or something.”
A small voice in the back of his head, whispered insidiously, the thought burrowing deep into his core and making him question his sanity throughout this entire event.
He’ll be gone when you return.
Stan hummed to himself as the world grew quieter and the moon rose. There was a chill to the air but not an unpleasant one, not anywhere near as cold as it could have been, a biting wind that sets the teeth on edge, nor as warm as the swelters that were hard to sleep through.
He took a deep breath, eyes closing as his lungs filled. There was a taste in the air, something tangible but bizarre all at the same time to his usual gut feeling.
This dimension felt safe.
His eyes fell open as he heard soft footsteps coming towards him, his small smile dropping as he assumed the person shuffling towards him. This place was safe and secure but he was glad this wasn’t his dimension. The thought of Ford dealing with everything he had dealt with on the other side of the portal…
At least this Ford had found a safe place to rest. In the end. Though it was not a happy story from start to finish.
It made him miss home with an ache that he thought he had lost to his years of wandering.
“Uhm…”
Stan jumped, spinning around to the door. He’d expected hesitance yes, but he’d expected the same person that had left to be returning, not a high pitch voice that left him lost and fumbling for words.
“Oh, uhh, hey kid.” He glanced down at the small girl smiling softly at him, her head tilted to one side as her gaze ran over him. “You probably shouldn’t be out here. I’ll end up with a crossbow bolt embedded in my back from your brother.”
“I waited until he fell asleep. He’s not sleeping well at the moment so when he does, he kind of passes out.” Mabel shrugged at him, shuffling forward to take Ford’s spot on the chair.
“Oh, OK then. This is probably still a bad idea. In general.”
“Why?”
“Well, Sweetie. I’m not…you know. Feels kind of wrong.”
Mabel blinked at him a few times, a brighter smile taking over her face as her eyes seemed to get back some of their usual gleam. “You are him.” The voice was hushed, a small amount of awe melding into it.
“Whoa there.” Stan put his hands up, his face pained from her genuine expression, so happy yet so close to tears. He never knew how to act around kids, how did you deal with this kind of thing? “I know I look like him but that doesn’t mean-”
“No, I meant you’re not a weird shapeshifter or something!” Mabel gestured around, slamming a hand over her mouth when she got too loud. “I mean you’re not Grunkle Stan but you’re still Stan, you know?”
“How on earth are you taking this so well?” Stan blinked at her. This weird little girl, faced with the mirror image of her Grunkle and yet somehow overlooking it.
“Cause you being around is helping Grunkle Ford.” She stated the words matter of factly, as if that made all the sense in the world and was the only reasoning that she needed. She deflated slightly a moment later, her feet kicking out against the chair. “He hasn’t been looking after himself since…”
Stan winced as the little face dropped, the bottom lip trembling as she sniffled. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” She sniffed, rubbing at her face with her sleeve. “It’s my job to keep everyone happy! But I can’t…I can’t do that at the moment.” She grinned up at him, tears dripping down her face. “Every little helps, right?”
“Yeesh, sweetie. That’s a lot to put on your little shoulders there.” He reached out, wary but unable to resist as he tapped her shoulder consolingly, a strange patting motion but it seemed to do the trick.
She chuckled again, a bubble of sadness coming up as she leaned into him. “You are him.”
Stan winced as she mumbled to herself, feeling like a trickster, a con-artist in the worst kind of way. He pulled back a little bit, pushing her away as he coughed, needing the distance. “Well, if you aren’t still suspicious of me and you aren’t trying to make me prove that I’m him or not him, what was it you wanted?” He tried to sound gruff, tried not to look at her but his eyes were drawn downwards to the little frowning face that seemed so sure she knew him but so sure she didn’t all at the same time by his actions.
God this was confusing for him, let alone her.
He sighed to himself. He was never soft. Why did he feel the need to be soft and gentle with this one?
“Go on then, tell me. How are you so sure I’m him?”
Mabel stared at him for a moment longer before she stood up on the chair and dropped herself into his lap. She didn’t look at him as she wrapped her arms around him.
“Cause only Grunkle Stan calls me Sweetie.”
Stan gulped, cursing himself as she settled on him, brain practically shouting that this was not helping at all. He was meant to be making it clear that they weren’t the same person not confusing the poor girl more!
“Kid-”
“Just one more hug.”
Stan froze, eyes locked behind her head as the small hands tightened around his neck. “What?”
“J-just one more hug, that’s all I want.”
He stopped arguing, stopped fighting as he took in the words. She was a smart kid, she knew this couldn’t last forever. That he wasn’t who he looked like to her. She was just a little girl wanting to pretend, just one more time that everything was OK. He felt his arms moving without his consent, wrapping the small girl up in his arms, a tight strong hold. He made a soft shushing noise as he rocked her, as he felt her tears start to fall onto his neck. He wanted her to feel safe, protected, to wrap her up and make sure she stayed bright and charming and not let the world take that from her like it was trying to do.
“Thank you.”
A creak made him glance up again, somehow more fretful of the night now the small girl clung to him so tightly as he rocked her.
A look of complete heartbreak met him as Ford stood watching from the doorway.
Ford was wrong. Stan was still there when he got back.
The unexpected blow was that he wasn’t alone.
He clutched the blanket in his arms deep to his chest as he heard Mabel’s voice, the bright lilt to it filling his heart up like nothing else had in a long time.
“Cause you being around is helping Grunkle Ford. He hasn’t been looking after himself since…”
He shook at the concern rumbling through her voice, the abject fear that he wasn’t coping.
What was he doing? He was meant to be looking after them.
She shouldn’t be worried about how well he was coping, he should be better at hiding it from them.
The self-deprecation vanished as their conversation continued, his heart aching to go out and join in. To reach out and take hold of the girl and let her know that everything was going to be fine, even if it didn’t feel that way right now.
Wanted to keep her safe from the world that had torn such a big part of their lives away.
He resolved himself as they spoke, pushing himself out of the doorway and on to the porch-
And found Mabel clinging tightly to a very perplexed Stanley.
“J-just one more hug, that’s all I want.”
Her words pierced deep into his heart, burrowing down into his core as if trying to open up the fountain of pain he’d forced down out of sight and out of mind.
The image changed before him as a floorboard creaked beneath his shuffling feet.
Stan looked up at him, his face marred with shock before filling with a soft concern.
He cleared his throat at the sight, not wanting to know what it was the other had seen in his expression.
“H-Hey Princ-Mabel.” Ford winced as Mabel looked up, her face sad but hopeful. He tried to keep his voice calm, soft and reassuring as he crept forward. “What are you doing? You should be asleep by now.”
“I know.” Mabel sat up, eyes downcast as she shuffled off of Stan, gripping his hand one more time before she jumped off the seat entirely. “I just…”
“Yeah. I know.” Ford ruffled her hair, getting a small happy noise in response as she latched on to his leg. “But you can talk to him more in the morning?” The statement came out as a question, a small curious bubble as to whether the man would still be there when they woke up.
Stan shrugged, waving at them both with a small smirk. “As long as your brother doesn’t shoot me.”
“I’ll make sure of it!” Mabel grinned, hugging Ford’s knees one more time before pulling back. “Night Grunkle Ford, night Grun-” She looked back from the doorway, her face full on conflicting emotions. “Goodnight?”
“That will do just nicely for me, Sweetie.”
There was silence for a moment as she vanished, fear on her face for her almost slip up. She drifted back into the house, sleep catching up to her and the day’s events too tiring to keep her from her bed. The two left behind stared at nothing for a moment, a weird tension brewing.
Ford could feel the static, could feel the worry tugging at him. It was one thing for him to fall too deep, to drown in this odd self-indulgence. But he couldn’t let Mabel be drawn in, he couldn’t let her get hurt.
Not again.
But then again… His eyebrows furrowed. Something had been different when he’d seen her. Like some of her spark had come back.
Maybe she needed some closure as much as he did.
Maybe they all did.
“So, ‘princess’?”
Ford found himself chuckling at the sudden remark, a foreign sound that he himself hadn’t heard in a long time. “I said it as a joke before…everything happened. It just kind of stuck.”
“So why did you hesitate just now?”
Ford’s smile faltered at the serious look on Stan’s face that broached no excuses. It made him stand up straight as if under scrutiny. “I just. It was something she and Stanley did. ‘Sweetie’, ‘Pumpkin’. I didn’t want to encroach on that, especially not after everything that has happened.”
A long awkward hush fell over them as he gave over the blanket, spinning back towards the door to get away from the now ever looming atmosphere.
“Sixer.”
He froze, not looking back, his hand tight on the doorframe. The other seemed to know that was all he would be getting though so he continued regardless.
“She’s already lost one Grunkle…don’t make her lose the other one too.”
The next morning felt like a dream.
Ford woke up from a peaceful sleep, the first one he’d had in a while and sat up. He retraced the day before, a hand running through his hair as he shook himself.
It couldn’t have happened.
It must have all been a dream. There was nothing else for it.
What were the chances really? That Stan would pass away and another would fall into his lap from the multiverse mere days later?
No, this was the universe telling him he was breaking. This was the world telling him he had to get himself moving before he lost what little family he had left.
He conceded all the points, let himself wallow in a pit of self-loathing for a few more minutes before he got up. Got himself dressed in new clean clothes for once and brushed his hair. He grimaced and cleaned his teeth, the disgusting feel of them getting to him for the first time in days before his stomach grumbled and he wandered to the kitchen.
He paused when he got there, the place stocked up as if he hadn’t missed a day, let alone a week.
He could vaguely remember that guy, Soos, was it? Coming in and out of the house but he couldn’t say when or why. The days had melded together far too much for him and it was only now he was seeing just how far he had fallen.
But it was time to change all that.
He grabbed a sponge, deciding it was time to push everything back in a different way. To force his body to work and clean and make sure the kids were well looked after. They wouldn’t be with him for much longer, they’d go back home and then he’d be alone.
He needed to spend what little time he had left with the kids, actually with them, not wallowing on his own.
He could grieve when they had gone.
They needed him to be a support.
He took a deep breath as he started to open the doors and windows, let the air into the house and seep away the darkness. It felt good. Whatever hallucination or sleep-deprived illusion he had dreamt up yesterday to aid him actually felt like it had helped.
He felt healthier, stronger. Like he could face the world a little bit better now.
He opened the front door without meaning to, coming to a sudden crashing halt as his eyes caught sight of the man stretching and rubbing his eyes on the porch chair.
Stan was there.
He was actually there.
“Wow, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Stan grimaced, waving a hand over at him. “You know, again.”
“I thought-” Ford licked his lips, his mouth suddenly parched as he closed the door behind him again. “I thought it was a dream.”
“Hey, I know I’m good looking but that’s kind of weird.”
“Eww. Shut up.” Ford’s mouth returned the banter without a thought, Stan’s smile splitting into a shit-eating grin at the quick response.
They didn’t question anything more after that. Both too far removed from reality to even gauge it. Both still reeling from having found someone not quite right but close enough after the decades that had forced them apart from their own siblings.
They spent the day talking about adventures through the portal. Asked the other if they had visited distant worlds or travelled through certain galaxies. Where the best views were or the best food. Where never to stray to if you could help it, the bad ones, the insane ones that left you wondering if you’d wake up one day and it would all have been some hallucination that could not be broken out of.
Mabel joined them at points. Listened intently to their conversation and asked questions here and there. It was the first time Ford had opened up about the worlds beyond the portal and she wouldn’t miss the chance if it was the only one that she may get.
She hoped that Dipper would do the same, that the curiosity he had had before all of this would drag him out of the dark and out into the sunlight with them.
She realised as the sun set and there was no sign of him that her wishes had been in vain.
That night it was Dipper’s turn.
As Ford lay drifting slowly, sleeping at a reasonable time for the first day in a week, he heard an echo, a vibrating shout shrill and venomous through the house. He sat up from his bed, fear clutching at his chest as the voice rang through the very walls.
He jumped up, fumbling his glasses to his face as he stumbled off to the front of the house, Dipper’s voice growing louder and louder but still distorted with every step.
He felt a tug on his arm as he reached the door and was met face to face with a resigned and distraught Mabel but she shook her head at him, as if begging him not to interfere.
Ford frowned down at her for a second before he joined her, crouching in the dark hallway and hugging her tight as they both sat and listened to the now crisp and clear one sided argument.
“You shouldn’t be here!”
“I know.”
“No! No, you don’t! You should just leave. You can’t bring him back, you can’t take his place!”
“I’m not trying to take his place, kid.”
“Then what are you doing? Why haven’t you left already? You’re hurting them!”
“Am I? Kid, I know you think that but honestly from what your sister’s said, Ford hasn’t eaten or slept since he died.”
Ford winced at the deadpan voice, the unsympathetic and unyielding tone that held no subtly in its words. He couldn’t sugar coat it, could he? Dipper was a child, he didn’t need to be forced to face the harshness of the world like that. No matter how bitter and angry he was, he was grieving, it was allowed. He went to stand but Mabel caught his arm again and tugged him back down, head in her knees. He waited for a moment before letting her small grip anchor him and trusted her to know her brother enough on this occasion.
Or maybe that was the problem.
Neither of them had been able to help him. Ford had heard Mabel yesterday with Stan, telling him that she couldn’t fix this and that that was her job. Maybe she was hoping that this would spur on his healing.
Ford wasn’t so sure.
But then again letting him stew, bottle up all that rage and resentment hadn’t helped at all.
“Don’t talk about him. You aren’t him, you’re nothing compared to him.” The words were poison, each one barbed with sleepless nights and unshed tears. “You aren’t helping at all. You’re just delaying the inevitable and then one day you’re going to leave again and you’re going to break them both even more than they already are. And then what? You’ll be gone! And I’ll have to try and pick up the pieces! So, no, I won’t let you! I won’t let you hurt them, they’re all I have and I’ll be damned before I let another thing that came through some hellish portal hurt them again.”
There was an audible sigh through the wood as Ford and Mabel sat frozen, hugging each other tight at Dipper’s wrath. Ford hadn’t noticed, hadn’t seen, how could he not have seen?
He had seen his notes, all that was left of his journals discarded, hidden from sight in drawers and bookshelves. He had seen papers torn to shreds and littering the porch but he hadn’t stopped to think. Hadn’t contemplated that Dipper’s passion, his drive to find out everything had gone.
No longer wanted to know about the creatures and the mysteries that surrounded them.
Because one of them had taken away something far more important.
And now he so desperately wanted to protect what was left, he couldn’t rest or relax, too drawn up in the fear that if he did, they’d be gone too.
Was that why he wandered out into the forest? Was it for some peace of mind or was it to make sure nothing untoward came near the Shack whilst no one else was checking?
“Do you feel better, kid?”
“What?”
Ford blinked at the change, the worried confusion to Dipper’s voice as Stan didn’t rise to his words nor back away from them.
“Does it feel better to get it off your chest like that?”
“What? No, I would feel better if you left.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” A weight shifts on old springs. “You tell yourself that to distract yourself. I’ve seen it, this anger. It’s consuming you, isn’t it? It’s all you can think about, all you can feel. And if you don’t feel it, you’re hollow, so you cling to it. Because it’s all you’ve got and if you’re not angry then what are you?”
“How would you- no, you don’t know me! You don’t know anything.”
“No, I don’t know you. But I know me. And at the moment, you’re reminding me a lot of myself.” There was a hiss of resentment and more movements that had Mabel clutching at Ford’s turtleneck, scared of the fallout. “You remind me of when I got kicked out of the house- and from the look in your eyes you know about that. So let me tell you part of the story your Grunkle didn’t tell you. He was angry, angry at his family, angry at the world and most of all he was angry at himself. And that kind of anger is destructive.” The voice paused for a moment and Ford tried to focus on the now instead of the past with his words, as shame swirled in his stomach.
“And I’m willing to bet the person you’re most angry at in this moment is you. And there’s no reason for that.”
The explosion that followed made a bird fly screeching from a tree and Ford’s heart stop entirely.
“SEE? You really do know nothing! Of course I’m angry at myself, who else should I be angry at?!” There was an odd note of triumphant to his voice, as if he was too glad to have something the man was wrong about, to really realise what he was saying.
“Really? Why, what did you do?”
“What did I do? What didn’t I do?” Dipper’s voice lowered, the note of comprehending, that he was opening up finally coming through, but once he started he couldn’t seem to stop. The tremble in his voice growing stronger and stronger with every word. “I-if I’d never found that stupid journal then this would have never even happened. If I’d been able to stop the portal from opening instead of forcing Mabel to choose between me and Grunkle Stan, then-then the rift would never have been created in the first place!” The words shook more and Ford heard something hit the ground with a loud thump. He took a peek around the door, too worried to stop himself and it took a lot of forcing on Mabel’s part to stop him going out there.
It took so much willpower, when all he could see through the crack of the door was Dipper, crumpled on the ground, his head in his hands.
“No. No, that’s not right either. Because then we wouldn’t have Grunkle Ford. And Grunkle Stan would hate me for that too, for not trusting him.”
“Pretty sure he couldn’t hate you kid. But you just sorted through that one all on your own, see? You can’t be angry at yourself for the portal opening, you helped him achieve what he’d been trying to do for 30 years. You helped him get his brother back.”
Ford watched as Stan shuffled over, kneeling in front of Dipper. He held his breath but nothing happened, no lashing out, no vicious snarl.
Just a small boy who seemed like all the wind had left him and there was nothing left but bones.
“It’s not just that though! I…I caused everything to go wrong. I made Mabel upset, I basically said I was going to stay here and leave her behind and it hurt her so badly.” He shook, his eyes scrunching up as if he was fighting the tears back. “She ran away from me, she didn’t want to be near me! And that’s when Bill got to her. Wh-when I think about what could have happened, what could have happened to her alone in the woods...” He shuddered. “But it doesn’t matter. What did happen was the apocalypse and that would never have happened if I’d just thought for a bit, thought about talking things through with her instead of just making the decision to abandon her.”
“Do you blame your sister for any of it?”
“What? NO, of course not!” Dipper’s eyes snapped up to the other, the first sign of a glare that he had shown in a while. “I’ve been tricked by Bill before, Grunkle Ford’s been tricked by Bill before! That’s on Bill, not her!”
“Then it’s not on you either.” Stan sighed, patting the boy’s shoulder.
“But!” Dipper bit out, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he gave up. He looked away, his hands clenching tight in his hair to the point that Stan reached out and tugged them away. That seemed to be the catalyst, a torrent of tears streaming down the boy’s face as he looked up at this person. This stranger with his Grunkle’s face. “He didn’t want to come to the fearamid! He wanted to keep everyone in the Shack where we were safe from Bill! We were- I was so angry at him, I kept telling him heroes don’t hide, they fight but now I get it. I can’t- I just want to keep Ford and Mabel here in the Shack where it’s safe and make sure nothing hurts them. Because I couldn’t do that for Grunkle Stan.” His voice wavered and he let himself fall against the other. “I couldn’t save him! We forced him to come with us and now he’s gone and it’s all my fault.”
“Look kid. I’m not going to lie and say I know what was going through his head. And you’re right, he was probably trying to protect you, and he was probably also scared that he was going to ruin everything all over again. Hell, that’s what I think a lot when it comes to finding my brother again. Just a hindrance, with no brains like you and Sixer, just a good left hook to keep us out of danger.”
Dipper sniffed. “S-stop, that’s not true. Grunkle Stan was amazing, he protected us.”
“Exactly.” Stan lifted Dipper’s head from where it was buried in his chest. He set stern but comforting eyes on him, a gruffness to him that for once Dipper believed in, could almost hear him through the words. “He protected you. Even in his last moments he did just that. He kept you and your sister safe, he helped save Ford. He would not want you- any of you, wasting away because of that.”
“But-”
“Kid, I’m going to be blunt here and if you walk away angry I wouldn’t blame you but I’m going to say it anyway, OK?”
Dipper laughed, the sound hysterical and twisted through his tears. “Grunkle Stan never gave us a warning, he always said what was on his mind.”
“Good. Then you listen to me, kid. Do not waste his sacrifice.”
Dipper stared up at him, eyes wide and shining in the moonlight and it broke Ford’s heart to see him look so vulnerable, so young and alone but then he was burying himself again in the man’s arms and sobbing his heart out. He could see his head nodding, acceptance making his shoulders slump and his knees give way and as much as it hurt to see, Ford knew that he needed this, he needed to snap and let all the pain rush out to heal again.
Mabel let out a small huff of air, as if everything she had been worried about was finally coming together. She stood up and tugged at Ford’s arm again without a word, a soft smile back on her face.
Ford took the hint and walked her upstairs, leaving the two to it now that they were sure that Dipper was finally coming to terms with it all.
They sat like that for a while. The boy and the stranger consoling him. Every so often the anger would rise again, threaten to engulf him but it was duller each time, less all-consuming and much less realistic with each guilt-stricken excuse. Like layers and layers of grief and bitter resentment were being torn away one at a time until there were no words left, no tears slipping down cheeks and the sobs hitching into calmer breaths.
“Now do you feel better?”
“I-I don’t know? I just feel tired.”
“That’s the body telling you it’s time.”
“But it’s so hard.”
“I know, kid, I know.”
The world felt less disconnected after that.
Like a dam had burst, Dipper crashed and slept for a long time. He came back less warped, less broken, especially when Ford managed to sit him aside for a while and talk to him.
Communication was key and it was something he had lost with his brother.
He would make sure the same would not be said for his nephew.
And so it had been hard, it had been a struggle. But just as Ford didn’t blame Dipper for anything that had happened, Dipper seemed horrified as Ford tried to turn the blame on himself instead. It healed them both as they both excused the other, shook their heads at every remorseful word and neatly tied up loose ends that had unravelled quicker and quicker as they both fell into a destructive pattern of giving up on themselves and the world.
Mabel’s smile was as bright as the sun as they all sat down to breakfast together that morning. Later than usual but there all the same.
There was still some tension when they went outside to Stan. There was still an unspoken rule that him going into the house was too much but Dipper sat and stayed polite, both of them pretending the last night hadn’t happened. He treated Stan like a relative he’d never met and wanted to get to know.
It got easier the more the four of them sat and chatted. As the conversation changed to childhoods and the small twins told them stupid things that they had done and the older pair one upped them at every turn.
It felt good for Ford to know that some things never changed. That their childhoods running around the beaches were the same, that the Stan’O’War had been a big part in both dimensions and that memories were easily transposed as if their worlds could collide together and no one would be able to tell the difference until that fateful day when the portal opened and their worlds turned upside down.
The twins took over later as the sun rose high in the sky and told him about their Stan. The one he didn’t meet all that much. The man who protected them from zombies and dealt with pterodactyls like any other insignificant threat.
The man who took them fishing and to other tourist traps just to mess with other people.
The man that had been a part of their lives since they had been born even though this was the first summer they were allowed to stay with him alone and it had ended far too abruptly, far too soon.
The twins cried at points, the tears choking through the laughter as they leant against each other, supportive and together instead of pulled apart by grief.
They left for their beds without the sadness that had permeated their very beings lingering over them that night. Heads full of light-hearted and fond memories of their Grunkle, just told from a slightly different voice.
The stories that if Ford had been in the right mental state he would have told them the first night. Reminded them of the good times and made them always remember their Grunkle in his best moments.
And in return they gave him their own memories that he would cherish inside his heart.
Their time together ran out far quicker than he had ever imagined.
It had felt like far too big of a coincidence for a Stan from another dimension to fall into their lives just after they had lost their own Stan.
And it felt like quite another for him to leave so soon.
But nothing lasted forever.
The next few days had felt like a second chance, a few more days to come to terms with everything that had happened before the summer came to an end. Let the twins have that much needed moment before they left for home and had to deal with things that no one else could possibly understand.
And then one morning while the two old men sat in a peaceful lull, a loud cracking broke through their moment.
A portal formed in the centre of the lawn again, a crackling vibrating thing full of a myriad of colours that took Ford’s breath away all over again.
The phantom pull to just jump through and leave this world behind tugged at his core.
But it was not as strong as it was when it had been his own portal all those weeks ago. Perhaps because he knew it wasn’t for him.
Perhaps because his family was here and he needed them as much as they needed him.
But it didn’t stop him staring wistfully, a selfish envious notion for just a second that there was a Ford on the other side of that shining, glimmering portal about to get his Stan back and he’d be left alone again.
Left in the grey world again where there was no boisterous laughter and crass gruff words circling the Shack.
And then his eyes caught hold of Stan beside him and it all lifted away. Denial was no longer an option, he had to accept the facts.
This was not his brother.
And this man so desperately wanted to go home.
He could see it on his face. The sudden bright spark that said ‘he really did it, he came back for me’ along with that ever tingling worry that he was wrong that he’d fall through and the world wouldn’t be like what he was hoping for.
He knew his brother, how he longed for redemption, he couldn’t blame him for his hesitance after their last meeting. From his point of view, his dimension, he had fallen through a portal after striving to make amends with his brother, hoping against hope that he was being given a chance that never came.
And Ford couldn’t stop him trying, he couldn’t deprive him of home after he had searched for it for 30 years.
Ford stood up, the other man following suit in surprise. They both wandered into the middle of the garden, a few meters away from the glowing vortex, scrutinising it for all it was worth.
“You don’t have to leave but I won’t force you to stay either.” Ford’s heart felt heavy, his hand up to grasp at his coat as the portal fluttered up a storm just like the one he remembered a few weeks ago. But this felt…right, unlike the last time he had had to say goodbye to his brother. This had been a second chance, one he was grateful for but it was time to move on. Time to look after the kids. He couldn’t hold on to this forever, not when his brother wouldn’t have wanted him to grieve himself away to nothing.
And it wasn’t right, not really, this was no way to honour his memory by replacing him.
He had sacrificed himself for them and as much as Ford hated that, he couldn’t change the fact that it had happened.
“Thank you, for giving me and the twins some closure.”
Stan hesitated, his eyes going back and forth between Ford and the portal. He knew it wouldn’t remain open forever but he had no way of knowing what he would find on the other side. He’d been waiting so long for family and there was a family right here, happy to…not pretend, but care for him as if he was their own, to take him in as another member of the family if not their own ‘Stan’. He shook his head, checking his portal gun had the co-ordinates for this dimension down, just in case. It was wrong of him, he knew, to take another’s place but perhaps it was something they all needed in a weird way.
But first he had to be sure that his own Ford didn’t need him. By the sounds of it, this world had needed its Stanley Pines even if he himself still was shocked to find that out.
Perhaps his world needed him.
And with that he pulled Ford in tight for a hug, wincing at the resigned noise the other made as he gripped on to his back. “You take care of those kids, you hear?” His voice was gruff, filled with a concern he hadn’t known he’d feel after only a few days here. Maybe it was the horrible lurching thought deep in his gut that they wouldn’t exist in his own dimension that made him so upset about leaving them without a goodbye.
“Always.”
Stan nodded, pulling himself away. He took a deep breath, stepping towards the portal before he looked back one final time, slipping his goggles back into place as he prepared for the plunge.
“Hey, Ford? Just so you know. If me and your Stan are alike like you seem to think…well, I think he would be happy to know you’re thinking of him so fondly after everything that’s happened.”
As the portal closed and Ford was left alone he was sure he heard a few more words that made his legs buckle beneath him.
“I hope my Ford is anything like you.”
Mabel and Dipper would find him later and though the scene would hurt, it was a relief to both of them as he pulled them in close and held them tight. When they found him letting go of all the emotions he’d been bottling up and cried. Stopped living in the small bubble of denial the other man had given him and let himself fall into painful but healthier acceptance.
The clouds were still there the next morning but Ford was sure the greyscale sky held just a hint of colour to it again.