Chapter Text
Stanley should have known better. When his brother had called him, saying that he had made a series of discoveries and needed his help, he shouldn't have picked up and gone to Oregon at the drop of a hat. But here he was, leaning against his car, completely lost in some "middle of nowhere" town with no map and no money. He dug a half crushed box of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, regretting that he still had them and yet considering smoking one anyway. Maybe while he was at it he could find a map somewhere in this god forsaken town.
Before he even had the chance to move, a man came bursting out from around a corner and slammed directly into his chest. Stan lost his breath for a moment, staring down at the person.
He was a full head shorter than Stan, with wide eyes behind small glasses and light brown hair flying in every possible direction. He seemed equally as shocked as Stanley to be pressed against his chest, but spared no time before saying,
"Help, I need help! They're coming! Can't let them see me!"
Stan saw the silhouettes of several large men barreling down the alleyway and quickly tossed the smaller man against his car, shielding him with his body while acting as of they were kissing rather intimately.
The sound of footsteps thundering down the sidewalk alerted him of when to stop, at which point he stared firmly at the man,
"What the hell was that?"
The shorter man was blushing deep red now, looking up at Stan in surprise,
"I...I could ask you the same..." He huffed out a nervous laugh, but was met by Stan's unamused expression, "Uh, yes well I...I got into a spot of trouble is all..."
"Right, that was pretty clear. How."
"I just built a machine recently that went a bit um...haywire, and it may have scratched one of their motorcycles."
Stan raised an eyebrow,
"Ooookay...listen, while you're still here, you know where Stanford Pines lives? Should be some sort of cabin in the woods or somethin'."
The other man cocked his head to the side, back still pressed against the car,
"Well as a matter of fact I do know where he lives, I received a phone call from Mr. Pines last week, I'll be working for him starting tomorrow morning."
"You're working with him? Doing what, building machines that destroy motorcycles?" He teased. The other man blushed again, crossing his arms,
"Of course not! That's just...an unfortunate side effect! Anywho, why do you need to find him? He mentioned on the phone that his work is very private and is to remain--"
"I'm his brother." Stan smirked at the man's shocked expression and the string of apologies that followed, "So do ya wanna show me where he lives in this hell hole, or would you rather go find those guys and hear their complaints about their bikes?"
"The uh...the former would be nice." He quickly got into the passenger seat, giving Stan the first set of directions.
They drove in uncomfortable silence for several minutes before Stan cleared his throat,
"So uh...are you, y'know, ok? You seemed pretty freaked out before." He didn't take his eyes off the road, unwilling to make eye contact during such a sensitive question. The other man nodded, adding,
"Oh yes, I'm alright, just rather shaken up. Thank you again for your er...unique means of assistance."
Stan gripped the wheel tighter,
"What i-it was the only thing I could think of at the last minute!"
"No, there was nothing wrong with it!" He laughed, "But you must admit it was different."
Stan relaxed slightly, taking a left onto a dirt road, as was indicated by his passenger,
"So you got a name?"
"Fiddleford McGucket, and you are?"
"Stanley."
Fiddleford glanced at him,
"How interesting. Stanley and Stanford that's--"
"Yeah yeah, it's weird. That's what you get when your folks aren't expecting twins."
They pulled into a dirt clearing that housed a cabin and not much else. Redwoods and pines surrounded the clearing in thick forest, and the setting sun coated everything in an orange glow.
The tires of the car crunched over layers of gravel and pine needles as Stan pulled up next to his brother's car.
"Some place, huh?" Stan mumbled, glancing up at the cabin through the windshield, "More of a shack than a "research outpost" if ya ask me." He added, getting out of the car. He strode to the door of the cabin, not checking to see if Fiddleford had followed, and pounded on it five times.
Several minutes passed before the door creaked open to reveal his twin,
"Stan!" He exclaimed, quickly hugging his brother, "thank you for coming. And...Professor Mcgucket? I um...it's nice to finally meet you in person, but you don't start until tomorrow."
"Oh yeah," Stan explained as Stanford shook Fiddleford's hand, "I found your nerd running from a biker gang so I made out with him and brought him along. Got any food?" He pushed his way past his stunned brother and into the cabin, searching for the kitchen.
Fiddleford stood gaping at the door for a moment before sputtering out,
"I-I--No! That's not--Mr. Pines, your brother is joking we--we did NOT er, uh, "make out" we didn't he just--I was in a tight spot and--"
Stan's laugh came from another room. Soon after, his head poked out from the hall,
"Relax, Fids, I'm messin' with ya." He had somehow already found food and had dug in without bothering to heat it up.
Stanford smiled sympathetically at Fiddleford,
"Stanley is...something of a jokester. Don't worry, teasing you means he likes you." He thought for a moment, "Or, I suppose it could mean he absolutely hates you." Stanford pat Fiddleford on the shoulder before heading off to join his brother in the kitchen.
Fiddleford stood, dumbfounded. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the Pines twins, particularly Stanley. He wasn't quite sure what to make of this job, particularly the mysterious circumstances from which it arose. However, he did know that he was just curious enough to stick around.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They began their work the next morning at five. The three of them trekked through the woods for several miles before Stanford stopped them in front of a tree,
"Here we are." Ford gestured to the tree before them. Stan and Fiddleford stood staring at Stanford before Stanley finally broke the silence with,
"W--what the hell are you talkin' about? It's...it's a tree. Oh my god, it's happening!" Stan grinned, "I'm finally the smart twin! AL-PHA TWIN! AL-PHA TWIN!" Fiddleford rolled his eyes as Stanford opened up a panel in the bark of the tree, staring at his brother with a smug expression.
Stan stopped mid-chant, arms falling back to his sides,
"What is that, a secret door?" He squinted as Ford input a code and revealed the spiral staircase leading below the tree, "Damn. Almost had it." He muttered, following the other two into the bunker.
After passing through several layers of security, the trio arrived in a system of caves. Fiddleford had grown increasingly nervous throughout their walk,
"U-uh, Mr. Pines, if you don't mind my asking...is this where we'll be uh...working, primarily?"
Stanford laughed,
"First, call me Ford. Second, I'm not that much of an eccentric. This is where I keep some of my more dangerous experiments. The main workshop is under the house."
"Shack." Stan corrected, covered by a fake cough.
As Fiddleford and Ford spoke more about the work conditions, Stan began walking around the cave, glancing over the equipment scattered on tables and across the floor.
Eventually, he had drifted into another section of cave, this one was brightly lit, with several trays of medical supplies on a metal table and an area partitioned off with thick glass.
Inside the glass cage, stood his father.
Stan froze, eyes wide and stomach twisting in fear and confusion. His father turned to look at him, and he stepped back nervously as the man spoke,
"Stanley. It's about time you showed up. Let me out of this damn thing at once."
Stan moved to open the door but hesitated. He swallowed hard and forced out,
"What are you doing here? You're...you died."
"'What are you doing here sir.'" the man corrected, "And I see you haven't gotten any smarter since I left. I'm not dead, boy. Where the hell'd you get that idea from, your brother? Now let. Me. Out."
"Yessir." Stan nodded, heading once again for the door.
"STAN, NO." Ford rushed over, stopping his twin, "Stan, it's not dad, listen, that's a shapeshifter. I caught it in the woods last year and raised it and now it's become something of a nuisance. Trust me, Stan, it's not dad. Dad is gone."
Stanley's eyes were fixed over his brother's shoulder, staring at the figure that looked like their father. Ford shook him by the shoulders firmly,
"STAN."
Stanley blinked several times, focusing on his brother,
"Right. No, yeah I...right."
Stanford nodded at him before turning to address the shapeshifter. Fiddleford came up behind Stanley, hesitantly patting his arm in a show of sympathy. Stan flinched at the touch, but walked off before Fiddleford had the chance to apologize.
The shapeshifter chuckled as its form bubbled,
"What's wrong, Stanley?? Can't handle your old man?" It shifted into Stanley now and examined its new limbs, "Stanford always dislikes when I become you, but I find your form suits me nicely. I am so grateful that your brother took the time to show me a family photo album. What do you think, Stanley? Or perhaps you'd prefer to see a younger version of yourself..."
Stan clenched his fist and whirled around to face the shapeshifter, charging towards to glass. Ford jumped between him and the glass, putting his hands up,
"Stan, ignore it. You have to ignore it. It tries to get to you but you can't let it. Come on, we'll talk in the other room." He pulled his brother away from the taunting laughter of the shapeshifter, motioning for Fiddleford to follow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They sat down at a table in another section of the cave. Stan stared at a lap as Stanford began to explain the situation,
"Well, as you can see, the shapeshifter is why I needed you to come to Gravity Falls, Stan. And Professor McGucket, I'm glad you could start today. I need to find a better containment system. I'm thinking a cryogenic chamber may be the best option."
Fiddleford nodded,
"I'll start on the plans immediately."
"What should I do." Stan muttered.
"Well for now, I'd just like you to assist the professor and I in any way possible. I...may also need your help when it comes to um...moving the shapeshifter to its new containment unit."
Stan nodded, and they set to work on their first task.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Stan woke up the next morning laying next to the couch, covered in discarded plans and papers. He sat up quickly, checking the clock and looking around for Fiddleford and his brother.
He found Fiddleford sprawled on the couch next to him, several schematic drawings clutched in his hands.
Stan stood up, stretching and yawning before throwing a pillow at Fiddleford,
"C'mon, nerd. Ford's probably workin' already."
The professor groaned and pulled his schematics closer, ignoring his wake up call. Stan shrugged and headed into the other room, the damp air of the cave making him shiver. The moment he entered the other room, however, he regretted having woken up at all.
The door of the glass cage had been opened. Leading up to the cage, several tables had been toppled, their contents spilled out and smashed on the floor. Blood mixed with chemicals on the ground, smearing in the direction of the exit.
Stan's voice caught in his throat. He wanted to yell for help, but couldn't make a sound.
He ran back to the other section of the cave, shaking Fiddleford and forcing himself to speak,
"F-FIDS!! Fids you gotta wake up, t-the shapeshifter has my brother!!"
Fiddleford was awakened by Stan's efforts and scrambled to get a hold of full consciousness in order to understand the situation,
"Stanley? Wha--where's Stanford?"
Stan gripped the scientist's lapels, as they had all fallen asleep fully clothed, and made unwavering eye contact,
"The shapeshifter. Has. Ford. Now get the hell up, we have to find him!!" Stan charged off, searching the rest of the bunker as Fiddleford gathered their plans and stored them away. They met back in the main room and ran back to the shack, finding broken twigs and spots if blood that suggested they were on the right track.
"How long have they been gone??" Fiddleford asked.
Stan checked his watch,
"I-I don't know! We fell asleep at what, five? So like, they could have left four hours ago, or they could've left ten minutes ago, how should I know?!"
By the time they reached the shack, they were both panting from the run. Stanley continued immediately inside and Fiddleford pushed himself to follow, despite his overwhelming desire to simply collapse on the spot.
The shack was dark. Their luggage lay in the exact spot they had dropped it off the night before, but several tables and chairs had been overturned, as if someone had been searching for something.
Stanley called out for his brother while they scoured the shack, but to no avail. By the time they had finished, Stan was frantically running his fingers through his hair, nearly hyperventilating at the thought of losing his twin,
"I-I can't-- I can't believe this, this is all my fucking fault!!" he kicked the leg of the coffee table before slumping down onto the couch, cradling his head in his hands.
Fiddleford stood uncomfortably in the center of the room. He felt the need to comfort Stan, to tell him that everything would be ok, but instead he cleared his throat,
"Stanley now...I know I've only known you for a day and, maybe I'm crossin' a line but," he took a deep breath, "your brother is missing. It ain't--it's not your fault, but if you don't keep tryin' to find him, that," he swallowed nervously, "that will be your fault! So you're going to get up and a-and we're going to, t-to go find your brother!"
Stan lifted his head from his hands, sitting very still for several seconds before taking a deep breath. He stood then, and Fiddleford momentarily feared for his life. He squeaked out an apology just as Stan patted him on the shoulder,
"No, you're uh...you're right, nerd. He must've left something..." Stan thought for a few moments. He followed the blood drips around the shack once more, this time pausing when the splotches became larger.
Kneeling down, he saw the walkman that Stanford often used to make journal entries when they were kids. He grabbed it and swiftly rewound the tape before pressing play. His brother's voice crackled out, followed by the voice of the shapeshifter,
'--don't know what you're talking about. That is the only journal I have.'
'Don't lie to me, Pines. Where. Is. the other journal.'
A muffled gasp of pain came through the speaker,
'M-my brother! My brother hid it. It's not here though, it's somewhere in Washington, I can help you find it.'
Laughter, then several shuffling sounds,
'Then I'll have to take a more comfortable form. And you and I will take a little road trip.'
As the creature spoke, its voice became more like Stan's, it let out another laugh before the tape went to static.
Stan paused the tape and stood. Fiddleford looked up at him,
"Washington? Well that's a start at least...but we have to figure out where--"
"No. I know where they're going. And we're gunna meet them there."