Chapter Text
It didn’t matter what happened in the past. It didn’t matter that it’d been over ten years since they had last seen each other. It didn’t matter that the last image he had of his beloved twin brother was that of him closing the curtains. Stanford Pines had sent him a call for help. And Stanley was going to answer.
The snow seems to soak into his boots. They’re well worn, and kinda cruddy to begin with, so he’s not surprised. Even so, he liked wet socks as much as the next person, and it’s getting cold.
The scars from the last time he’d gotten into a situation have yet to heal. The poor self-stitching on a knife wound in the abdomen threatens to rip with each stride he takes. He hadn’t slept in a while. He hadn’t eaten in longer. Honestly, if he died on the porch of his brother's house at that very moment, he wouldn’t be surprised. Life would be that cruel to him, wouldn’t it?
He made it to the porch without incident, thankfully enough.
The door looms before him, and Stan can feel multiple layers of dread curling up inside his stomach. Everything hurts in new ways. He’s scared, but he doesn’t know what for.
The worst that can happen was being rejected again. Not like that would kill him. Well, not physically, at least.
He wasn’t sure how he’d react if his brother turned him away. He didn’t want to know. Hopefully, he’d never have to know.
“You haven’t seen your brother in over ten years. It’s okay. He’s family. He won’t bite,” He whispers to himself. His left hand tightens around the strap to his duffle bag, which had contained almost everything he owned since he was seventeen, and his father threw him out, with nothing but a pre-packed bag. With his right hand, he takes a leap of faith, and knocks on the door.
It opens seconds later, and he finds a rather deadly looking crossbow shoved inches away from his nose. If he were any closer to it, it would’ve scratched the tip of it. An additional injury to the fading scar that traveled between his eyes, over the bridge of his nose. He’d gotten that one in prison when he was nineteen. It wasn’t his first scar, but it’d been the first incident when his life seriously started to go downhill, as if he hadn’t already reached rock bottom.
“Who is it?! Have you come to steal my eyes?!” Came a frantic, but very familiar shout.
His brother’s voice hadn’t changed a bit.
“Well, I can always count on you for a warm welcome,” He almost laughed, rolling his eyes. It seemed as if Ford’s people skills had only got worse in their time apart.
“Alright, now all we need is about a thousand gallons of radioactive toxic waste,”
Mabel looked over to her brother, who stared back at her with an incredulous look on his face. He let out a loud groan. “He just couldn’t make this easy for us, could he?”
19-year-old twins Mabel and Dipper Pines had spent the majority of their childhood trying to fix the machine in their cabins basement. It’d been their pet project ever since they were twelve, and had visited Gravity Falls for the first time.
Their grandfather; Sherman Pines, had told them the story of his younger brothers; a pair of twins, identical in all physical features except for one holding six fingers and the other holding the normal amount of five.
Grandpa Shermie would go on about these two boys for hours, talking to Mabel and Dipper about how much his grandchildren reminded him of his beloved baby brothers.
Dipper was like Stanford; a bright mind, always curious, always asking questions. Eager to learn; eager to do, eager to experience.
Mabel was like Stanley; full of energy and personality. The protector; the starlight; always so warm and supportive. Full of life and full of love.
The last time anyone had seen either of the brothers was winter. The only hint as to where they went was the mysterious town of Gravity Falls.
It was enough to peak the twins' interest.
They visited Gravity Falls when they were 12 years old. Over the years, the twins raided the old cabin that used to belong to Stanford, found all the journals that contained the instructions on how to open the portal, and scoured through the journals over and over for secrets. They’d met every anomaly, scoured every cave, even explored every inch of Crash Sight Omega. The secrets of Gravity Falls had become theirs. All of this would lead to the biggest achievement of a lifetime (or at least their lifetime); Rescuing their fabled Great Uncles from another dimension.
They had set up the portal. Read every schematic; gotten it working twenty times over, gravity disruptions and alien technology aside. All they needed now was the energy to really punch the hole and reach the other dimension. Then they could save Stanley and Stanford.
All they needed was toxic waste.
This was going to be a long day.
They had come across so much bullshit during their mission. Dipper knew this should be the least of their problems, but it was still an infuriating annoyance.
“Goddamn it, it’s three in the morning, Mabel,” He complained. “Not enough coffee in the world can make me wanna deal with this bullshit,”
“Three in the morning is actually the perfect time to be raiding government facilities,” Mabel pointed out. “Though, your probably right about us needing more sleep before we do that,”
“You don’t suppose Wendy and her gang could help us out,” Dipper asked.
“They helped us get away with worse,” Mabel says with a shrug, before shuttering. “I’ll never forget having to hide that body,”
Dipper bent his head solemnly; “Rest in Peace Forever, Mr. Poolcheck. Rest in Peace forever,”
The twins held a moment of silence for the man who had been accidentally murdered (not by them , of course, but it’s not like they could really prove it wasn’t them).
“You don’t suppose the gnomes would be willing to help,” Mabel mentioned. “I mean, they did say they’d never help us again after the Killbilly vs. Manator incident, but we do have some cool shit we can bribe them with,”
“And Pacifica does owe us one. Or five,” Dipper brought up.
“Aww, you wouldn’t sell out your girlfriend to gnomes that easily, would you?” Mabel teased.
“She’s not my— Whatever,” Dipper gripped. “I don’t give enough fucks at the moment to argue with you,”
“Awe, but Dipshit,” Mabel quipped. “That’s no fun,”
“You see this Mabel?” The boy asked, holding out his middle finger. “This is for you,”
“Cool, now I can give you three,” Mabel said with a smile.
Dipper couldn’t help but laugh. It was three in the morning, and he was surviving off of coffee and spite, but somehow, Mabel always knew how to lighten his mood. She was always there to make him happy, no matter what. All he needed was Mabel, and all Mabel needed was Dipper.
Grandpa Shermie had told them the story of the ten-year fall out between the Stan twins (Mabel had come up with the brilliant nickname). Dipper honestly didn’t get it; how could one go so long without talking to their sibling? He couldn’t imagine the same thing happening between him and Mabel. It always bothered him, whenever he read his great uncle’s journals, that he could possibly talk about his brother with such a casual disregard. The first journal especially held a lot of petty insults, most likely because the wound was still fresh, and Stanford would’ve still been bitter about the crappy college he went to (In his great uncle’s defense, Dipper had decided he’d rather not go to college at all then go to Backupsmore). He could never understand how any sibling could possibly be “suffocating”, unless the author had been talking in a more literal sense, though evidence suggested otherwise. (Mabel had almost choked him to death on more than one occasion with her hugs. That was a kind of “suffocating” he could understand, even if it did nothing to hinder the bond between the two of them).
He guessed it all stemmed down to one fact; He and Mabel, while they were much like Stanford and Stanley respectively, at least according to Shermie, were still two entirely different people. An eerily similar event to the one that drove the brother’s apart had happened to Dipper and Mabel, and it proved that. Mabel was better at apologizing, and Dipper was better at forgiving.
That, and Dipper would never, ever turn his back on his twin. That was a vow he made to her at a young age, and he would keep it forever. Nothing would make him break it. No matter what.
They were nineteen now. It’d been three years since they’re foster parents had kicked them to the curb (technically they kicked Mabel out, not him, but like hell he was letting her face the streets alone), and since then, the kids had been making a pretty decent living for themselves in Gravity Falls.
They’d transformed the creepy and decrepit cabin that held the portal into a pretty decent museum of supernatural shit (holding both fake and real attractions. They had learned to balance the ratio after trying to put a Gremgoblin on display). It reeled in a decent amount of money, and once they’d gotten the Society of the Blind Eye off their back (Which had surprisingly been one of the least dangerous task they’d come across while trying to complete their project), the citizens of Gravity Falls had made sure that their little museum got all the attention it possibly could. (The endorsement they’d blackmailed the Northwest into giving them also helped). Plus, they had collected a lot of gold after they raged war against the unicorns.
It’d been eight years since they started their project. Eight years since curiosity over the family disappearance had prompted the kids to pay a visit to Gravity Falls and learn about what happened. Eight years since Dipper had come across the Third Journal by chance. Eight years since they had gotten that creepy kid to give them the Second Journal. Six years since Mabel figured out how to make a freaking dream demon give them what they needed without any strings attached (one of the most impressive things she’d ever done, and she’d done a lot of impressive things). All they needed was the radioactive waste, and their hard work would pay off. They’d rescue two individuals from another dimension. And they could finally meet their grandpa’s little brothers, of whom they heard so much about.
Mabel stretched her limbs out, causing the clicking noises that Dipper had always found unsettling but had simply learned to deal with. She yawned, indicating that, despite being the more energetic one, she was just as tired as Dipper. “Now, how about we go to bed, and tomorrow we go steal some of the government’s shit,”
Dipper scooped up the small collection of coffee mugs he’d made over the day. The cans of energy drink Mabel used to keep herself up could stay littered on the floor. (She usually never picked them up anyways, and he didn’t feel like doing so for her at the moment). “Yeah,” he replied to his twin. “Let’s do that,”
Stanford lowered the crossbow upon seeing the face of his brother.
They looked exactly alike, which doesn’t help to settle Stanley’s nerves at all. He’s homeless, been in and out of prison, and he’d just escaped the bad end of an operation to smuggle drugs gone entirely wrong. He’s unshaven, hadn’t taken a shower in three days, and hadn’t been able to shampoo his hair in even longer. Speaking of hair, it’d grown into a greasy mullet. He felt gross, and probably looked gross too.
Ford shouldn’t look like him. But here his brother is; wearing disheveled and dirty clothes, with an unshaven face, and a miles worth of bags under his bloodshot eyes. His hair is disheveled and in desperate need of a wash, and he smells like decay.
Ford shouldn’t look like this. He should be healthy, living in his private cabin with his grandiose research grant, going out into the sun, maybe getting some actual human interaction for once in his life. Stan can’t exactly say Ford looks worse than himself at the moment (after all, one of them had several facial scars, and the other didn’t), but he still doesn’t look good.
Jeez , what happened to you, Poindexter ? The words are on the tip of Stanley’s tong; they are teasing and familiar. But he hadn’t seen his brother in years. How long had it been? Ten? Twelve? Teasing and familiarity didn’t seem safe at the moment.
Luckily for him, Ford spoke first. “Stanley, did anyone follow you? Anyone at all?” His voice is laced with thick amounts of paranoia.
“Eh, hello to you, too, pal,” Stan spoke out, feeling a little bit more than just weirded out with this situation. Ford had always been a bit suspicious. It always took longer for him to trust other people than it did for Stanley (though years on the streets quickly changed that). But this was just the tiniest bit ridiculous. After all, Ford’s eyes are darting side to side, as if he’s afraid someone is watching them.
You live in the middle of nowhere, Ford, who the hell’d be watching us?
Ford quickly pulls Stan inside his house, shutting the door, and roughly pulling Stan to eye level, shining a flashlight in each of his eyes. Stan shouts out in protest, his instincts screaming at him that he’s being attacked. Usually, that’s what would always be happening whenever somebody manhandles him like that.
It’s just Ford, it’s just Ford, it’s just Ford…
“Sorry, I just had to make sure you weren’t…” Ford tried explaining before trailing off. “Uh, it’s nothing. Come in, come in,”
He walked further into the house, rather stiffly. Stan wondered after him, confusion buzzing in his head.
“Uh, you gonna explain what’s going on here? You’re acting like Mom after her tenth cup of coffee,”
Ford shuffled through papers on his desk, before grabbing onto a book bound in red leather, holding it close to his chest. He peers around his shoulder, looking wild for a second. It took a long moment for sanity to come back into them.
“Listen, there isn’t much time,” He started his explanation. “I’ve made a huge mistake, and I don’t know who I can trust anymore,”
The moment he says this, he turns to a fake skeleton that’s “staring” at them, and turns it’s head away. If Stan wasn’t worried about his brother before, he definitely is now.
“Hey, uh, easy there,” Stan tried to reach out, placing a comforting hand on his brother’s back. He was always doing these little motions to sooth his brother when they were teenagers. Ford would panic, and Stan could calm him down, with a comforting voice and a comforting touch. It was his job. It was something he was good at. Even if he was terrible at everything else, he was good at being Ford’s brother. “Let’s talk this through, okay?”
They weren’t teenagers anymore.
“I have something to show you,” Ford told him, his voice serious. But there is also something raw underneath. A sadness that Stan can’t quite place. He wants to make things better. That’s all he ever wants. “Something you won’t believe,”
“Look, I’ve been around the world, okay? Whatever it is, I’ll understand,”
“This place is wicked,” Wendy exclaimed, looking through the barbed-wire fence that kept the outside from the government sanctioned nuclear power-plant, which was located only a few miles away from Gravity Falls.
“Are you sure you guys wanna help us?” Dipper asked the group of college students that had been a part of Wendy’s friend group since they’d met her. “I mean, you guys have done enough for us already,”
Wendy was the red-haired daughter of lumberjack Dan Corduroy; the manliest man in the town. She was also easily the coolest person they’d ever met. She and her friends had been a great help in their mission, doing whatever they could to get the twins closer to saving their great uncles. From fighting shape-shifters, to punching their way through alien security, to hiding the body of the local murdered pool manager, Dipper and Mabel could always count on Wendy and her gang to help them through.
“Oh, come on, dude,” Wendy laughed, punching Dipper in the arm. “You think we’re not gonna see this through to the end?”
“Your weird science project has been the funnest thing we’ve ever participated in ever,” One of her friends says; a tall boy with a blond mullet named Lee, “So what, it's been trouble? It’s something we’re happy to do,”
“Speak for yourselves!” Snapped their larger, more nervous friend, Thompson. “I’m just doing this because everyone else is,”
“I say Thompson climbs the fence first,” Their punk-ish friend, Tambry, challenges, not looking up from her phone.
“You think the fence is electric?” Asked Nate; a tall boy with dark skin, and Lee’s boyfriend best friend, sounding a little too excited about the amount of danger the question posed.
“Only one way to test that out,” Mabel said confidently, as if accepting a challenge. She picks an old tree branch off the ground, wielding it like a technologically advanced multi-purpose tool. “We poke it with a stick!”
Mabel touched the fence with her weapon of choice, and instantly, a spike of blue electricity traveled from the fence, and through the stick, shocking the girl at the other end. Mabel fell down, her face and hands coated in minor burns, and the ends of her hair singed off.
“Mabel!” Her brother shouts out in concern, rushing to his twin’s side.
Mabel simply coughs out some smoke, and stands up like it was nothing. “Yep, definitely electric!” She cheers.
“Yeash,” Laughed their emo friend, Robbie, staring at Mabel in amazement and a tiny bit of fear. “Are you even capable of death or something?”
“I drink about ten cans of immortalizing drinks every day,” Mabel explained.
Dipper rolled his eyes. “Red Bull isn’t an immortalizing drink, Mabel,”
“It gives you wings!”
“It gives you acid indigestion,”
“So how are we going to get over the fence?” Lee asks, bring them back to the subject at hand.
Wendy rubs her chin, taking a second to think. “We could do the Thompson Lift-off,” She suggested.
“Oh, guys, please, not the Thompson Lift-off,” Thompson protested as his friends gathered around him.
But it was too late, as they had already grabbed him. And with a few hearty swings, Thompson was launched into the air and over the fence, landing on his butt on the other side.
“Now go find a way to turn the electricity off!” Wendy demanded. “Come on, Thompson, we’re counting on you,”
“Oh jeez, ok,” Thompson whimpered out, and started running off towards what looked like the generator.
“Thompson! Thompson! Thompson!” The group chanted, pumping their fist in the air, as their own unique way of wishing their friend good luck.
The group waited, wondering if their friend was gonna come back anytime soon. Mabel and Wendy threw rocks and sticks at the fence every so often, only to see it spark.
“We should’ve thrown Dipper over the fence,” Robbie lamented.
“Yeah, I’d rather you guys not,” Dipper grumbled back.
Wendy lets out a frustrated groan. “What’s taking him so long!?”
“Do you think he was captured by the government guys?” Tambry joked.
“I don’t think so,” Dipper said, rubbing his chin, considering the possibility. “I mean, this place isn’t empty , but it’s not like that many people work here,”
“Are you sure you need toxic sludge?” Robbie complained. “Wouldn’t unicorn shit work just as well?”
“Like hell I’m gonna go collecting the poop of those bitches,” Mabel spat out bitterly. Her rivalry with the unicorns was a story all of it's own.
“Plus, it wouldn’t work,” Dipper spoke up, before diving into the scientific explanation as to why unicorn feces would not power up the portal, to which his friends started to either groan, tune him out, or both. Mabel even went as far as to gripe “Shut up, nerd,” at him, though he ignored her.
The alarm for the facility suddenly went off, red lights flashing through the night and blaring sounds cutting into the group's ears.
On the bright side, it did shut Dipper up.
“Shit!” Wendy cursed. “Thompson fucked up. We’re gonna need a different plan!”
“Dammit Thompson!” Lee cursed.
“Way to fuck up the mission, Thompson!” Nate shouted out, despite knowing Thompson wasn’t anywhere close enough to hear him.
“Guys, toss me, Mabel, and Dipper over to the other side of the fence,” Wendy commanded. “We’ll get the waste, and try to find Thompson, then we’ll meet you back here. If you see people running at you, ditch us!”
“If you have to leave Thompson behind, we won’t hold it against you,” Robbie promised the three of them, before the group grabbed Mabel, and threw her over the fence.
“There is nothing about this I understand,”
A giant, triangular structure loomed over the room, casing it in a faded blue light. It’s an impressive contraption, complete with symbols of ancient and unknown origin decorated across the circular hole inside. It holds an energy that Stan doesn't like. The hair on the back of his neck is sticking up on edge.
He caught Ford rolling his eyes, much to his annoyance. “It’s a trans-universal gateway, a punched hole through a weak spot in our dimension,” An interdimensional portal. Why not? Stan almost laughs. “But it could just as easily be harnessed for terrible destruction. That’s why I shut it down and hid my journals, which explain how to operate it,”
A world ending crisis. That’s what’s got Ford so paranoid. And Stan wants to laugh because of course Ford would make something that could possibly end the world; that stupid, brilliant genius, with his beautiful and stupid brain. When Stan was young, he believed that Ford could do anything. But he grew up, and became cynical. He had to be realistic; Ford was just a human being. Sure, he could invent a perpetual-motion machine for some stupid science fair, but he had limits.
No, it appears his brother didn’t. Like the hero of some science fiction movie; Ford had managed to do the impossible.
A warm nostalgia crept into him. It’d been so long, but it appeared that Ford hadn’t changed a bit.
“There’s only one journal left,” Ford continues. “And you are the only person I can trust to take it,” Ford handed him the red book, which Stan could now see had a gold handprint, the same size and shape as his brother’s own six finger palms. The only person I can trust… After all this time, Ford trusted his brother. Whatever was going on; whatever trouble Ford had landed himself in with that brilliant, stupid brain of his, they where going to figure it out together.
Wherever we go…
“I have something to ask of you,” Ford says, his voice pleading and desperate. “You remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat?”
Stan’s heart caught in his throat. Ford had called him here to help him. He’d been called here because his brother trusted him. He forgave him. They were going to be together at last. Things were going to be ok.
He’s so happy he can cry. Things are finally going to be ok!
“Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as you can! To the edge of the earth! Bury it where no one can find it,”
As soon as the happiness came, it left.
Sail as far away as you can.
Then what? Then what!? Would he just disappear? Was that what Ford wanted? For his brother to fall off the edge of the earth with nothing but a book and a dead dream?
He spent two days driving to this middle-of-nowhere town. Left the moment he read Ford’s letter. Didn’t stop for anything but gas; not sleep, nor food (not like he could’ve afforded the food anyways). Took no breaks.
It didn’t matter what happened in the past. It didn’t matter that it’d been ten years since they had last seen each other. It didn’t matter that the last image he had of his beloved twin brother was that of him closing the curtains. Stan rushed to Ford’s side the moment his brother had asked him too. Like some dog crawling back to his master after having been kicked.
Tears gathered in the corner of Stan’s eyes, but for entirely different reasons.
“That’s it!?” He shouts out. “You finally wanna see me after ten years, and it’s to tell me to get as far away from you as possible!”
“Stanley, you don’t understand what I’ve been up against! What I’ve been through!” Ford lectures, as if that was supposed to make things better.
He’d been screwed over, rejected, and betrayed by so many people. Nothing could possibly hurt more than this.
“No, no! You don’t understand what I’ve been through!!” He’s practically screaming now. Because this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, and he’s stupid for thinking it would’ve happened any other way . What was he expecting, some stupid happily ever after? What was I expecting ?!
“I’ve been to prison in three different countries!”
Two times in America, once in Mexico, and once in Columbia. He remembered meeting Rico for the first time when he was nineteen. “I’ll give you my protection, chico mono, but I expect you to make it worth my while,”
“I once had to chew my way out of the trunk of a car!”
They had found him, beat him up, and used him as their personal plaything before finally tying his wrist together with barbed wire, shoving him in the trunk of an old car, and driving it out into the desert, before leaving him to die. He couldn’t get his hands out of the wires; they had clawed their way into his skin. He had to use his teeth.
“You think you’ve got problems? I’ve got a mullet, Stanford!”
He’d been beaten up too many times to count. He still had fresh stitches in his abdomen after Jorge forced him to swallow pellets of cocaine so they could smuggle it across the border. He’d been violated in so many horrible ways, and abused by so many people, who claimed that they were the only one’s who’d ever love a disgusting creature like him. And where was Ford in all this? Why had Stan been made to feel unloved by his own brother? And who was the bastard to give him hope, only to rip it away from him?! It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair, damnit!
“Meanwhile, where have you been? Living it up in your fancy house in the woods, selfishly hoarding your college money, because you only care about yourself!”
“I’m selfish? I’m selfish, Stanley? How can you say that after costing me my dream school!?” Ford replied roughly. Stan gritted his teeth, wondering how much screaming he could possibly do before Ford finally got the point.
His brother hadn’t changed a bit. He was still the petty, grudge-holding, arrogant asshole who cared about nobody but himself.
You never cared about me, didn’t you?! All those years I spent caring about you , and you didn’t give a damn about me!
He’s about to say that, about to shout in his brother’s face. Tell him of all the ways Ford had hurt him. But Ford beat him to it.
“I’m giving you the chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life, and you won’t even listen!”
Oh…
So that was how he felt.
Well, fuck that, and fuck him!! “Well, listen to this! You want me to get rid of this book? Fine, I’ll get rid of it right now!!”
He grabbed his lighter, and held the flame to the book, hoping the damn thing would turn to ashes.
“No!” Ford shouted, grabbing onto it. Stan took the journal back with ease.
“You said you wanted me to have it, so I’ll do what I want with it!” He moved to light it up again.
“MY RESEARCH!!” Ford suddenly screamed, something almost feral to his voice. Before Stan could process what was happening, Ford had jumped on him. The shock of the movement caused him to crash to the ground, and the journal flew out of his hands. Ford made a grab for it.
If it’s a fight you want, then it’s a fight you're gonna get!!
Stan tripped his brother over, grabbing onto the book himself, staring Ford down; challenging him to take it away from him. He didn’t even want the stupid book in the first place, but if Ford was willing to get physical for it, who was Stan to deny his brother? After all, physical fights were always his forte. Fights with words would sting and bite. He’d never win those, and even if he did, the damage to his own self-worth would be irreversible. He’d been stomped into the dirt, over and over again. At least when the fight was physical, he could punch back.
“Stanley, give it back,” Ford demanded, jumping at him once again.
The two of them crashed through the door into the portal’s control room, their backs landing and dragging across buttons and switches. Wind and electricity was thick in the air.
“You want it back, you’re gonna have to try harder than that!” Stan challenged.
The portal sprang to life in the other room. The main counsel was heating up. Hell was being raised, but the two brothers didn’t even notice, the only thing on their mind was their own anger.
“You left me behind, you jerk!” Stan cried. He felt hot water trail down his cheeks, all the raw emotions spilling out, leaving nothing but memories of closed curtains. “It was supposed to be us forever!” What had happened? Why did one little accident have to ruin everything? A stupid little accident, by a stupid little boy. And he was thrown out like garbage, because why would a genius like Stanford want to be friends with a stupid little boy.
Why did he always have to be the parasitic twin? Why did he always have to be the one that nobody wanted. Why couldn’t Ford take the blame for a change?
“You ruined my life!”
“You ruined your own life!”
Ford kicked him in the chest, and his back pressed against the control panel. There was something hot on there. Something that burned like hellfire.
Someone was screaming. No, he was screaming. He was screaming because whatever symbol was on that panel was being branded into his back, and it was Ford who’d done it.
The foot was finally released after a few agonizing moments, and Stan crumbled to the ground, feeling drained. The pain was fresh and hot, and he couldn’t think about anything else for a second. He’d been burned. Ford had kicked him into hot metal and it burned . Ford had burned him.
He can faintly hear Ford ask if he’s ok, behind the ringing in his ears. He looked up at his brother through blurry vision. Tell me that didn’t just happen! Tell me that wasn’t real .
Ford was standing a few inches away from him, clutching the damned leather book to his chest, as if it mattered more to him than his brother, who was withering in pain on the ground.
Nobody ever cared when he’d been in pain. He’d be reaching out for the help of people he thought were friends, only for them to leave him to wither and die where he laid. But Ford was supposed to be different. He was supposed to be different. The devastation was gone, replaced by something cold and numb. Dry anger.
Wet anger was passionate, with screaming and tears, the sign of a heart that had been broken. Dry anger was numb, with little emotion left, because there wasn’t much of a heart left to break anymore.
Stan was up in seconds, an angry adrenaline masking turning the burning pain in his shoulder into a dull throb. He felt empty. Empty as he punches Ford in the face one last time, empty as he grabbed the journey from him, and empty as he marched forwards, forcing his brother to back away, as if Ford could sense the dangerous energy coming from his brother. That was it. Stanley was done. He’d never give a damn about his brother again.
For so long he’d held onto the hope that maybe his family would take him back. Maybe his family would forgive him.
How stupid had he been.
“Some brother you turned out to be,” He laughed, the sound hollow and bitter. And it was funny, because it turned out that Stan Pines was the biggest fucking joke in the world. “You care more about your dumb mysteries than you’re own family? Well, then you can have them!”
And with that final sentiment, he shoved the journal into Ford’s arms with enough force to knock his brother over. With that final statement, he would leave Ford here in the basement, get into his car, and leave this damned town. Maybe he’d drive his way off a cliff if he was lucky.
That would be easy and painless, now, wouldn’t it?
But Ford didn’t fall down. He was falling up. Up into a swirling vortex that they hadn’t even realized had been turned on during their fight.
“Whoa, whoa, hey!” Stan panicked, watching his brother float away up out of his reach, fear making his muscles grow stiff. “What’s going on? Hey, hey, Stanford!”
“Stanley!” Ford shouted out desperately. “Stanley, help me!” He begged.
“Wha-what do I do!” He shouted back.
“Stanley do something!!” Ford cried out, panicking, as blue light began to absorb his body.
He threw his book to Stan, who caught it. Stan looked at the journal, and then looked at Ford.
An idea formed in his mind. A brilliant and stupid idea. Something so utterly impulsive that he was sure to get an earful from his brother if they’d managed to survive.
He made his decision. Stan chucked the book aside, and took a run, and jumped into the vacuuming gravity, touching his brother's hand, as the two of them were pulled through the portal.
“Don’t worry bro, Wherever we go, we go together!”
Dipper and Mabel ran through the forest, nearing the old cabin that had become their living quarters. They had managed to steal the toxic waste, though they had to abandon Thompson. Wendy and the gang helped them get the waste back to their museum, which they used to fuel up the portal.
Honestly, Thompson held out longer than they thought. The dude had gone through who knew what kind of interrogation, but still held the fort for six hours before selling out their location. They expected him to wimp out within seconds.
After fueling their contraption with waste and triggering the proper sequence to get it going, they just had to wait eleven hours before the portal would open for real, and hopefully, their great uncle’s would step through. It’d been a long journey, but it was finally going to pay off.
There were six hours left until the portal opened when the government had driven up to the house and tried to arrest all the residents within. Mabel, Dipper, and Wendy had been the main focus, but Wendy had managed to fight them off, running into the woods, screaming that “You’ll never catch me!!” Dipper and Mabel had been caught, as well as Nate and Robbie, but Lee and Tambry used the chaos to hide. Which was good; they’d need all the help they could get.
Mabel used her one phone call to contact Candy, while Dipper had called up Pacifica. They had a Code Black and White , and it was time to cash in every favor they were ever owed, and gather every ally they ever made.
The twin’s ran to the shack, ten minutes to spare before the portal would open within the basement. They took a good look at the museum that was their home, and it seemed as if everything had paid off.
Buff, eight-foot-tall men with bull horns and legs patrolled the cabin, aided by plump women wielding spears and seal-skin capes. The manator's and the silkies. There were gnomes, scamp-fires, geodites, and eye-bats guarding the doors. Hawktopi flew around, terrorizing the government agents who still dared to linger, and the Multi-bear stood proudly at the top of his roof, growling ferociously, warning trespassers that they would be damned if they crossed him.
“Alright! The gang’s all here!” Mabel cheered, running up to the front door, Dipper by her side.
“Thank you for your help, guys!” Dipper said. “We really appreciate it!”
“Anything for the fearsome heroes who vanquished the killbillies!” A manator proclaimed.
“Any friend of Mermando’s is a friend of mine,” A silky mentioned.
“I would do anything for the two of you,” The multi-bear shouted to them from the top of the roof.
“Speak for yourselves!” One of the gnomes snapped. “We’re only here ‘cause Pacifica told us that two hot ladies are coming out of that portal you opened to be our queens!”
Dipper and Mabel shared a knowing look. Those gnomes were sure going to be disappointed.
The inside of the house is a bit of a mess. Most of the artifacts they displayed in their museum were in some sort of broken state, and the plaidipi were escaping their exhibit. That didn’t matter.
Guarding the door to the basement was Grenda, one of Mabel’s closest friends. “Some of the police guys got inside!” She told them. “Wendy and our girls are fighting them off!”
Dipper and Mabel hurried down the stairs. Five minutes until the portal went off.
True to Grenda’s word, there were policemen down in the portal room, attempting to turn off the machine, while Wendy, Pacifica, and Candy wrestled with them. The men had triggered the failsafe, opening up the button that could shut their project down with one press in the middle of the room.
Wendy ran towards them. “Dudes! You're here!” She shouted, leaning on her knees to catch her breath. “How long have we got?”
“Three minutes,” Dipper declared, sliding into the rolling chair that sat in front of the main counter, which held all the buttons that operated the portal. He checked it over, making sure that nothing was out of place. “All we’ve got left to do is wait for our moment of glory,”
“Yeah!” Mabel cheered. “Just three minutes, and then—” She suddenly let out a scream, pointing.
Dipper looked over and saw one of the government agents reaching for the button.
Mabel was on it in seconds. She tackled the man, the two of them rolling until they hit the foot of the portal.
Everything started to fly up, as gravity fell. Mabel tossed the man as far away from the portal as she could, the lack of gravity making it easy. Unfortunately, she was right in the portal’s danger zone, the energy whipping her around like a rag doll.
“Mabel!” Dipper shouted out in panic, launching himself into the room and towards the button. He had to shut it down. That portal wasn’t worth his sister.
His hand was on it.
“Dipper wait!” Mabel screamed. She was holding onto the top of the structure, clinging for dear life, while her legs were sucked into the swirling vortex. She pulled on herself, yanking her legs out. There were burns on them, but she didn’t seem to notice. She looked over to Dipper, her eyes full of confidence. Her face was covered in bruises and her nose was bleeding. Even still, she smiled wickedly, her faith that everything would go right strong as ever. “I’ll be fine!” She told him.
“How do you know?!” He shouted, ready to slam the button, looking at the burns on his sister's legs, and the blood on her face. She clinged on the portal's helm, the only thing keeping her from getting sucked in was her own determined strength. “How do you know you’ll be ok?!”
The portal reached its final countdown.
10…
9…
8… “Trust me!” She told him.
7…
6… Dipper drew his hands away from the button.
5… Mabel gives him a confident smile.
4… Candy and Pacifica scream as gravity shoves them against the wall.
3… Wendy watches them from the doorway, looking scared
2… Mabel digs her nails into the metal, the rust collecting in them.
1…
And for an awful moment, everything is still.
There’s blast, and a blinding white light. Dipper is thrown backwards, away from his sister, and into the control room, landing roughly on Wendy.
Outside, they’re museum floats off its foundation. Everything outside is going up, up, up…
Mabel can feel herself floating in a white void. She sees nothing.
Then all at once, it all comes crashing down.
The portal flickers with a leftover glow, as a figure walks through it. He’s dressed in a long, tattered coat, a scarf and goggles masking his face, and a large weapon of sorts strung across his back. In his arms is the limp unconscious body of an old man, who’s covered in bruises and blood. The figure himself is limping. There’s something tired in his step. The old man in his arms is barely breathing. The figure holds him close, like one would something precious.
Dipper approaches the doorway, where he can see his sister, who’s standing up despite her injuries. He approaches her slowly, as the men who came out of the portal walked over all the debris that had fallen around the triangular structure.
Mabel’s eyes are wide, her expression one of shock and awe.
“Holy shit, Dipper,” She whispered to her brother in disbelief. “We— We did it,”
It’s all she can do to even talk. Dipper can’t even respond to her. He's at a loss for words.
“It worked. We finally found Grandpa Shermie’s brothers,”