Chapter Text
I'll set the scene.
It was the middle of June, nearing the latter end of the month. Presently, we are located overlooking a busy highway–boring, I know, but about to become less so, and we aren't going to stay there for very long anyway. The day was warm, and the temperature would only increase from here on out. There were more cars than usual on this particular highway; school had recently gotten out, and so the summer traveling season had begun. And just over there, off the exit and a mile or so out, lay the town of Gravity Falls. I trust that you are familiar with the name.
Then a portal opened up in the sky and a man tumbled out, falling a good half-dozen feet before crashing into the road. If you are shocked or surprised, don't be. We're practically in Gravity Falls. This sort of thing happens all the time, so get used to it. If you're worried about the man who just took a belly flop into the asphalt…well.
The man hacked a cough and braced his hands against the hot road, looking around. An adrenaline rush that wouldn't be stopping anytime soon coursed through his veins. Fast approaching was a huge semi-truck coming straight at him, the driver half-asleep at the wheel, fixing to turn him into one of those gristly, creepy corpses from horror movies in mere seconds.
“Oh, shit!” he cried, rolling over and missing the vehicle by only inches. (Sorry, kids. In this story, we're going to cuss.) Then he was on his feet and running, of which he was no stranger to.
His name was Bill Cipher. Barely over four miles out, he had what he'd always wanted and never thought he'd deserved. A family. He had a husband who still longed for him, and two daughters who he had yet to meet. Unfortunately for him, they believed him to be dead, and he the same of them. After all, it had been twelve years.
Well, for the others. In Theraprism, where Bill had been imprisoned, he thought it had been much longer, and for him, it had. For him, the number of years was closer to a million.
So sit back and buckle up, folks, because I'm about to take you on a long and wild ride.
Bill raced away from the highway, down an exit and on and on until he was stumbling, overexertion wearing on him to the point where he could physically no longer breathe. Run! he yelled at himself, panic still surging within him. Run, and don't stop running! He leaned against a wall, panting heavily. They'll… His body decided to give up, and he slid down the wall to collapse on the ground as exhaustion seeped in, gasping shakily.
He'd done it. He'd escaped. They couldn't find him now. He should be dead. He would be dead, if it weren't for another's help. And now, instead, he was free.
He realized that he'd begun to doze off without noticing, and forced his mismatched eyes open, examining the surroundings. He had ended up in some quaint, quiet little neighborhood, and was leaning against someone's house. Moreover, he was on Earth again, back in Gravity Falls, which…looked surprisingly unaffected by the passages of time. But Theraprism was located outside of time, he'd known that. So it hadn't been long enough for Time Baby to rule over the workings of the world. All things considered, that was good news for him.
It didn't matter, though, did it? Nothing had changed for him. His love was still dead. His children were still dead. And Bill was still alone. Always alone.
He got to his feet, letting out a deep exhale. First things first: rid himself of this fucking orange jumpsuit and burn it. Kicking off the offensive outfit he'd been forced to wear for the past forever, Bill snagged a button-up shirt and a pair of pants from a clothesline as he walked past. Then he set off in search of matches.
Once he'd performed an extremely violent and EXTREMELY satisfying end to his jumpsuit, Bill found himself wandering aimlessly. What should he do now? What could he do now? It wasn't as if any of it would matter without his family.
…Ford's house. Bill should see what had become of it. If it was empty, abandoned, maybe he could take residence there to quietly live out the rest of his days where his husband had. This body was designed to die, anyway, as all human's were. It was only fair.
He started towards his old home, the place and way to go etched into his memory. But as he got closer to his destination, he saw more traffic and signs than there had ever been before. Signs that pointed to the building instead of away from it. Ford had purposely built his home recluded and far from the rest of town, but now it seemed as though even the out-of-towners came here. When Bill finally got to where the house was, he was shocked to see the words “Mystery Shack” written across the roof.
A tourist trap. Stanley must be living here. At least…maybe Ford hadn't died alone, then.
Alright. Bill could make this work. Alright. So he'd find Stanford's brother, introduce himself, and figure it out from there. Maybe ask for a job or something.
Bill would figure this out. He'd make it work. Everything would be fine.