Chapter Text
Someone was calling.
Stanford could hear the phone blaring from its newly designated perch on the kitchen wall, a more recent addition to his cabin after the main layout had been finalised. One that only 4 people should know the number of.
The quick glance he spared his clock as he pulled away from the desk instantly ruled out his mother, her timezone would make it almost 4am. The board members never called outside of office hours either, especially not at this time, and, unless there was an emergency, Fiddleford wouldn't call, not with his 2-month-old still getting used to a proper sleep schedule.
In all likelihood, it was probably a wrong number. Still his curiosity beckoned him, after all, the phone wouldn’t answer itself.
Ford stifled a yawn, brushing past his notes and sidestepping through the towers of books he'd been organizing until he could finally get into the kitchen, wincing at the shrill ringtone he still hadn't changed. Snatching the phone from its hold for no other reason than to silence the deafening noise.
“Hello, this is Dr. Stanford Pines. May I ask whose calling?”
…
For a brief static-filled moment doubt crept in as Ford strained to hear any sign of life. Half-believing he'd missed it, before the faint sound of passing cars made it through the shoddy signal from the other end. Muffled breathing following a second later, just a little too rough to be anything unintentional.
“Hello?” Ford prompted, furrowing his brow in concentration, a little disgruntled by the silent caller reminiscent of his college years. They’d always had an almost eerie quality that held in the fabricated silence. One that only being on the receiving end of such calls could ever quite manage. He’d just about made up his mind to hang up, like all the other times, when a shaking voice finally picked up, acting as both a relief and an omen as Ford recognized the caller’s identity.
“Hey, Sixer. It’s, uh, i-its real good to hear your voice.”
“Stanley?!” Ford felt his jaw drop, disbelief creeping into his voice, largely masking the tide of anger that was sure to follow. The start of which, already beginning to bubble up under the surface. “What? How? Why are you calling? How did you get this number?!”
“Ma, she gave me it last time I called. I- Shit, Sorry I know i-it’s late but I-”
“Of course.” Ford interjected, already keen to get off the phone as the pieces slotted into place, “Of course she did, because god forbid I try and- Listen, if you want to reconcile, I suggest you wait until tom-”
“WAIT!” Stan all but shrieked through the phone, cracking with a choked hitch that echoed across the line, “P-please, I-I know it’s late, but please don’t hang up. I- I don’t know if I- please. Don’t. D-don’t l-leave.”
Ford’s stomach turned, the anger he’d only just begun to muster, plummeting like a sinking stone at his brother’s words. In all his memories, Stan had never been one to cower or beg for anything, even when he probably should have.
To hear all his blustering confidence evaporate, it was unnatural, hitting him like a physical blow. Ford hadn’t recognized it until now, but he could have sworn the little sniffles he’d subconsciously picked up on had grown, a man struggling to hold everything in, threatening to boil over.
Realistically, Stan was probably just drunk and feeling a little nostalgic… but try as he might, Ford couldn’t shake the feeling, it was too different from how he ever imagined this going. For all of his social inadequacies, Ford would be a fool not to notice, not with the brother he’d been practically glued to for the first 17 years of his life, not when it was Stanley.
“Lee?” The nickname was spoken tentatively, suddenly all too aware of the vulnerability his words carried. A part of himself kicking up a storm as Ford back-tracked on everything he’d promised himself on those sleepless nights. The nights where he couldn’t help but replay the events of the science fair on a loop, searching every crevice of his mind for an explanation that would patch over the sting of betrayal.
“Lee, What’s going on? Are you- Are you crying?”
The silence lingered, hanging heavy on the line, until a loud, unfiltered cry cut through the atmosphere between them, like a clap of thunder shaking the foundation of their built-up resentment. Stifled tears breaking through the hard shell Stan had obviously been clinging to, whimpering with a deep, resonating pain that shot ice-cold dread straight down Ford’s spine, freezing him on the spot.
“What’s happening? Stanley?! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- Moses, talk to me!”
“I- fuck- I-I’m s-sorry, I c-can’t- I shoulda just let y-you s-sleep.”
“No! I- Whatever’s going on, I'm here, it's going to be alright, just tell me what's going on. I can't help, if I don't know.” Ford pleaded, gripping the phone tight enough he might have worried it would shatter in his grip.
From the sound of it, Stan had devolved into choked sobs, the force almost painful to listen to. Stan’s trembling form unable to pull in air as whispery gasps wracked through him.
Still he bit out the words, barely coping with the weight of them, “I-I, J-Jimmy. He- I-I th-thought h-he. Oh god,I-I thought he loved m-me. I-I just-”
“Who’s Jimmy? Lee? Who- What?” Ford knew he was panicking now, struggling to reign in his thundering pulse as he was forced to listen to his brother’s heartbreak.
“I-I thought h-he loved me Six, b-but he- and I-I left h-him, he's going to be pissed. Fuck, fuck. W-what i-if h-he catches m-me.” Stan’s voice gave out, a low whine clawing out of his throat, bringing with it, a vicious nausea that swept over Ford. His heart pounding as the pieces began to click into place. A sickening clarity that had him almost desperate to climb through the phone and wrap his brother in his arms.
“I-I realise this is difficult, but I just need you to-” What? Describe the man’s name and details so he could hunt him down? Ford pushed through the thoughts, focusing on Stan as he tried his best to uncover the truth despite the space between them. An aching fatigue already settling in with the reality coming into view. “Has Jimmy… hurt you?”
The choked cry was all the confirmation he needed, despite how much his mind and soul prayed it wasn't true.
Ford mustered every ounce of restraint he possessed, forcing himself to breathe through the raw protective fury boiling inside him, afraid it would spill out if he didn't pull himself together.
Stanley had a boyfriend and that man, Jimmy, had been hurting him. Focus on the facts, come up with something. Don’t yell, not now. Breathe.
“Fuck. Ok. Alright, I'm coming to get you, where are you? I need an address.”
His questions were targeted, but it seemed as though Stan had truly given up, sobbing into the phone as if Ford could reach him through it.
As heart wrenching as it was, Ford couldn't help the cold shiver spreading through him as he circled around what he’d learnt.
Breathe, I need to breathe. Stan could still be in danger. Think of something. Don’t yell. Don’t yell. Fuck.
“Dammit, I need an address! I can't find you without one and if you only just left you might not have- Oh for- Lee, listen to me, I know you're hurting right now, but I need to- before anything else happens to you, we need a plan. So please, please just tell me where you are.”
“P-phoenix, A-a-Arizona.” Stan's watery voice finally found its footing, fear taking hold as he realised just how close he might be cutting it. It was still too small for the brother Ford once knew, but right now he had bigger things to focus on.
Snatching a map off the kitchen side, letting his eyes drift over the crumpled paper as he kept his ear on the phone, Ford cursed as he ran the calculations.
16 hours. I’m 16 hours away.
With no car thanks to Steve's earlier involvement, factoring in the time it would take to find a rental at this hour, it could be over a day before he got to Stan. If he was in California, it might have been possible to drive overnight but…
That's it! Fiddleford. Even though he’s on the outskirts of the state, if Stan could make it to them, then at least he could be safe until Ford could get hold of a car.
With a that in mind, Ford turned his attention back to the phone, steadfastly ignoring his shaking hands as he kept his voice even and tempered.
“Stanley, it's going to be ok. I'm currently living in Oregon but I have a friend from college. His name is Fiddleford and he lives in California. What I need you to do is drive to Palo Alto. It shouldn't be more than 4 hours at this time of day and he'll guarantee your safety until I can pick you up. Ok?”
“W-wait are you serious? I-I couldn't-”
“You can. This is the fastest way to ensure you’re ok. I can't have you drive for over 16 hours in your state and I'm worried if you stop anywhere else… No, this is the best course of action. Please, I need you to trust me Lee.”
Ford heard Stan suck in a breath, the weight of everything no doubt clawing at his resolve, before a joyless laugh snuck through the speaker. “Fuck, thank you. Thank you Six. I-I guess I'll see you soon?”
“Yes! Yes, I-I’m coming, Stanley, I promise you, I’m coming.”
With there plan in mind, a goal set into motion, Ford handed off the address and made sure Stan had enough money to make it to Fiddleford’s, whispering comfort across the line until the pay phone ran out, his knees buckling, sliding down the wall, still clutching the phone as the disconnected tone echoed out like a flat line.
The tears he'd been holding back for Stan's sake, springing up and pooling down his cheeks.
He knew they weren't in the clear yet, but the phone call that couldn't have been more than 20 minutes had seemed to take years off his life, hearing the voice so reminiscent of the scared little boy that had once stood beside him against the world, breaking down so far away from him.
It was unbearable.
Ford never thought he was an emotional man and yet, it seemed as though his entire world had shattered in the span of a few minutes. Someone. Some evil fucking monster had hurt his twin.
His little brother.
His hands trembled with the effort, but Ford reached up and tapped in Fiddleford's number, barely looking as the digits grazed under his fingers. Listening to the phone grating ring broke through the dizzying haze he’d begun to fall into, a sleep-filled southern twang settling over the line like a blanket.
“Ford? Issat you? Wh- *yawn* Whas goin’ on?”
“Fiddleford, Moses, I completely forgot, I- I apologise I realise it's very late.” Upon hearing Ford’s voice, sullen and hollow, Fiddleford's tone instantly changed its tune, focusing on his friend as Emma-May leant in next to him, listening intently after catching Fiddleford’s worried scowl.
“Now hold on there mista, ya know me and Em don't mind ya callin’, sounds to me like ya got somethin’ on ya mind?”
“R-right, thank you Fiddleford, you and Emma-May. You're correct, I- do you remember my brother Stanley?” Ford asked, breathless as his head grazed the wall behind him.
“That's ya twin right? Sure, I remember ya sayin’ a thing or two. Damn near lost my mind when ya told me. What about him?”
“He- Fuck, I-I'm not sure on the details, but he called me just now… Apparently he just got out of a- an abusive relationship and he was stuck figuring out where to go. But without my car… I mean he was all the way over in Phoenix and I-”
“Ford, honey, breath with us.” Emma-May's voice cut through the panic constricting his chest. “You mentioned he was in Phoenix right? Did you give him our address?”
Ford hummed miserably in response, succumbing to the drag of gravity as he curled up, pressing his knees to his chest. “Y-yes, I apologise I know this is all so last-minute, b-but from the sound of it he hadn't made it far before he called a-and I didn't- oh god, I didn't even ask if he was hurt!”
“Hush now, ya hear? Me and Em will set him up until ya get here. I'm sure ya keen to get on the road, but we'll keep ya posted alright?” It wasn’t right, Ford knew, he’d put far too much on the new parents, all too suddenly, but the relief that kicked in was like a balm soothing his nerves, covering the burning grazes nicking his fragile heart.
“Yes, I can't thank you both enough, Stanley should be another 4 hours at least, so I will check in if I haven't found a rental soon.”
“Perfect, we'll see you both soon, at least we know who we're looking for, since you're both identical.” Emma-May spoke once more, carefully, light as her words could get with the monotonous timbre she commanded.
”Keep yourself calm and try not to do anything reckless, alright? He’s going to need all the support we can manage and that won’t work if you end up in hospital… or Jail. You hear?”
Ford snorted, brushing his tears as he hummed once more. Recalling her own experiences with a bad ex. The jail cell had been cold that night, but Ford never minded when Emma-May, who’d only a classmate at the time had smiled and held his hand through the holding bars until Fiddleford could pay their bail. He’d never regretted punching the idiot who stormed into their study session, especially not when it gave him a chance to introduce the people who would become his greatest friends.
Although the strong woman he’d met in college wasn't one to take any nonsense, he knew it probably hit close to home and that reminder made his two friends' kindness all the more touching. As he promised to say out of trouble.
With the worst of his sorrows behind him and a clear plan of action, it was all too easy for Ford to say his goodbyes and get a head start, flipping through the yellow pages for a late-night place that could get him on the road sooner. It was in that moment when his Journal caught his eye, the gold leaf of the hand calling to him like a beacon as he realized exactly where he now lived. Almost forgetting the strange and wonderful place he'd just begun to research. The realization breaking through like a beacon as an idea began to take shape.
Surely his treks into the forest could unearth a faster route and Fiddleford would help him patch over the consequences of Emma’s eventual chiding… Probably…
That's how, a few hours later, Ford found himself swimming up the Palo Alto shoreline. Sure, it hadn't been the best idea to run off into the woods at night, but with every other option out of reach and a few hypotheses in his grasp, aimlessly wandering through the pines hadn't seemed any worse than wasting the time he would have spent tossing and turning, failing to sleep until the closest opening time.
The fight with the gnomes might have been better avoided, with the fresh bruises on his ankles still smarting as he made it to the beach, but the kind creature who'd rescued him had been a blessing in disguise, guiding him to a Portal-Potty after he had explained his dilemma. Between that and the cool water that had caught his unexpected drop after leaving the in-between space, Ford was surprisingly invigorated, ready to fight the world for his brother as he stormed up the road in the 15 minutes it had taken to reach Fiddleford's house.
Even with the sun only just beginning to rise through the darkness, however, it was clear his urgency had been misplaced as his friend's driveway held no other vehicles.
Undeterred, he rang the doorbell, almost scaring Fiddleford to death as he pushed the door open on his friend with a battle cry.
“Is he here yet?!”
“What the- Ford? How in the hell did ya make it- I thought ya said-”
“Fidd’s? Is that him- Stanford?!”
The chaos that erupted around them would have been comical as the three grown adults gaped at each other, one dripping water in their hallway, a strand of seaweed plastered around his shoulder.
If it wasn’t for Tate’s sharp cry from the other room, Ford imagined it would have lasted a lot longer. Emma-May’s pointed glare stifling the hysterical- borderline teary giggles threatening to overwhelm both Fidds and he.
Of course, the severity of the situation soon outweighed any of the hilarity that could have come, the two men standing in the hallway listening to Emma-May settle the restless baby.
Still dripping in the entryway until Fiddleford herded him to their shower with whatever spares Ford had left during his last visit. Calming his nerves enough, to share a sheepish smile with his friend.
After probably the shortest shower he could manage, hair curling up wildly with the added salt still clinging to his locks. Ford was glad for his captive audience’s attention as he launched into a recap how he’d managed to make an 11 hour journey in the time he did. Regaining some confidence as he detailed the nearly unbelievable events, no doubt a ploy to keep him distracted from the upcoming intervention they’d soon be undertaking.
A few tears came as well, as Ford’s nervous system adapted to the strange situation they found themselves in. Handling it much better now that he was surrounded by friends, with nothing but time against them.
All too soon, however, they all found themselves sitting around the dining table, half-exhausted, with only the coffee in their hands keeping them awake as they watched the clock silently tick by. Unease coiling around them as the dawn stretched across the sky, despite their idle conversation.
With each hour that passed after the sun rose, the group only grew more restless, the couple sharing worried glances as Ford moved to stand only to fall back in his chair for the fourth time in a row. Hesitant, now that the excitement had faded and any further questions might act as the catalyst to his next breakdown.
“He should have been here by now.” Ford muttered, finally, pushing out of his chair to grab another cup of coffee, fingers tapping the side, betraying his nerves.
“He’ll make it just fine, Ford, ya know how the roads can be, he might have caught some traffic headin’ over.” Fidds replied, calmly, setting his own cup down for a refill. “Sides, from what ya said on the phone, he’s had a hard night as it is, can’t say I’d be keen to go trail blazin’ after a thing like that.”
A huff of frustration was Ford’s only response, all the nerves catching up to him as the clock ticked over to 6am. Several hours after Stan should have arrived, even with any hiccups.
“It won’t do you any good to work yourself up, he’s coming-” Emma-May started, before the sound of tires scraping against gravel was heard outside, a rumbling engine settling in the driveway, as if to answer her summons.
Ford wasted no time, launching forward to fling the door open after waiting so long to greet the last arrival, his friends not far behind him.
In the early morning light, the colors reflected across the windshield like glass painted with bright oranges and pinks, was a car that had seemed to drive straight out of his teenage memories, emblazoned with the custom number plate Ford himself had gifted Stan once upon a time.
The occupant hidden behind the windshield stepping out into the cool breeze.
Ford couldn’t stop the stuttered gasp that clawed its way up his throat, the sight of his twin all too familiar despite the clear effect time had played in their absence.
For one, Stan was a lot smaller than Ford ever remembered him being, the almost wild mane of hair doing nothing to hide how thin and ragged Stan’s frame had become, almost scrawny if not for their father’s broad shoulders.
What really had his heart leaping in his throat, however, was the garish bruises and scrapes littering Stan’s face, standing out from the pale skin with deep crimsons and purples that mottled what was left of his freckles.
Trailing upwards, his fringe did nothing to hide the ugly gash that cleaved through his eyebrow, one eye swollen shut from the force of the blow, blackened with the broken vessels underneath and crusted with dried blood that still clung across the side of his face.
There were a few new scars as well, a distinct gouge in his lip that Ford hadn’t seen before. The spitfire from his youth all but reduced to ashes.
Yet, beneath the gore and aged wounds, was his brother. Alive. Here. Within reach.
Ford didn’t register the moment he moved, nor did Stan for that matter, meeting in a collision that knocked them both off their feet as fresh tears joined the salty air, clinging to the other with a desperation they hadn’t known they’d kept simmering since their separation .
He still couldn’t consolidate the trembling man in his arms with the brother he once knew, all too thin and broken, but the instinctive protective fury thundering in his chest like a second heartbeat was one he never needed to explain, dragging Stan closer. His soul recognizing the very moment re-discovered its missing piece.
It was only Fiddleford’s guiding hands that pulled his attention away, looking up at his friend’s devastated face as the situation struck him through. Realizing this was really happening, feeling and seeing it occur without the barrier of distance.
Thoughts racing with the understanding that finally came alive. A reality that could only come from experiencing the aftermath of a single call.
This was real.
Stanley had been hurt. Badly.
They needed to get him inside, where he could feel safe enough to rest, away from the disgusting man who’d toyed with his brother’s heart.
He was here.
He was safe.
He was crying.
Stanley, his Stanley, the brother he remembered, never cried. Not this broken, inhuman wail that seemed to rip itself from his chest. Not the heaving frantic clawing that begged the other to never let go again.
This pale, shaking man who’d experienced far more than any 23 year old should have ever had to face alone. This was a creature far beyond Ford’s scope of understanding, both so strong and fragile all at once.
And Ford truly had no idea how to help.