Chapter Text
Due to a great deal of experience with it and learning how to lucid dream out of necessity, Stanford could recognize when his sleep was invaded by another’s presence.
He was immediately on guard as his previous dream about locating a colony of harpies for study dissolved away to reveal new surroundings. He was floating in the middle of an empty void. But not the more traditional interpretation that involved smothering darkness. Instead, it was a strangely glittering and mysteriously milky white void. Almost like a color negative version of space. And despite his best efforts, Stanford couldn’t seem to change his surroundings or create his usual weapons.
He had no power over his dream. Someone else was in control.
It didn’t feel like a malicious presence. But in the beginning, Bill Cipher didn’t feel dangerous. It had felt welcoming and wonderful whenever he made himself known. Until Stanford saw the truth behind his charming mask.
This wasn’t Bill Cipher though. He knew what it felt like when Bill slid into his mind. Digging his grip into his neurons and whispering in his mind. He could recognize the Bill’s fingerprints bruising his cerebral cortex. Besides, Bill was gone. His accursed book had eventually come boomeranging back with additions about his ultimate fate: trapped in a secure facility outside of time called the Theraprism.
It wasn’t Bill Cipher, but someone or something was in his dreams. And even if something about the strange glittering white void felt almost comforting and reassuring, the fact that he wasn’t alone made him uneasy. He’d learned the hard way not to trust anyone in his head without some very compelling evidence that they meant no harm.
Trying his best to keep his voice calm and controlled, Stanford said, “It’s rude entering someone’s mind without an invitation or even an introduction.”
“My manners misplaced I have. Please forgive my minor gaffe.”
The strange otherworldly voice seemed to ebb and flow like whale song from the ether. Coming from all directions and none. Beautiful and mesmerizing like the milky white surroundings. Something in him wanted to trust that voice. But Stanford did his best to resist. He needed to be on guard because he didn’t know who he was dealing with.
Beautiful and intriguing facades could hide dangerous monsters. Like the light of an anglerfish, drawing unsuspecting prey in.
Stanford caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. A bit of color in the void. He turned slowly.
No longer completely empty, the endless glittering voice now contained a vast nebula. Swirling pinks, reds, and cream clouds of gas and cosmic dust, a sight that the people of his home dimension were just now getting telescopes powerful enough to glimpse properly. The edges of the nebula almost resembled flames and he could spy stars within the depths. Distance and size were impossible to judge with nothing to serve as scale, but he could almost feel how much it dwarfed him.
When he and Stanley were small, they would occasionally lay on the beach and stare up at the passing clouds while talking about what they resembled. If they’d seen a cloud like the strange nebula back then, Stanford would have described it as a lizard. He could make out the limbs, a thick tail, and a head. Except there were several fiery protrusions on the neck-like structure that didn’t belong on a lizard. Perhaps it was closer to…
A brief memory of an adorable amphibian kept in his tank until he released it. An amphibian that had no reason to exist in Oregon, but somehow he didn’t think to question it back then. Or at all until that very moment.
“The Axolotl,” he said in quiet awe.
It shouldn’t be possible of a nebula to smile pleasantly. But that was exactly what Stanford saw. And he finally began to relax.
“You have correctly recognized the signs. And you are Stanford Filbrick Pines.”
The Axolotl was spoken of across the multiverse in reverent tones. The various people in the different dimensions would often invoke the Axolotl for protection, guidance, and favors, especially when someone was seeking second chances and redemption. Everything that he’d heard told him that the Axolotl was benevolent. There had not been warnings carved into the walls of a cave warning against contact. In fact, there was at least one shrine that he remembered vividly covered in idols and carvings of the celestial entity. That was where he met Jheselbraum and where she cared for him after installing his metal plate. She seemed to respect the Axolotl and she was not one to trust powerful beings without reason. If she believed that the Axolotl was as benevolent as their reputation, then he could give them a chance to explain themselves.
The vast colorful nebula abruptly began to condense and shrink in on itself. Compacting into a smaller shape, swirling together like it was trying to form a star. And when they reached the point of ignition, a flash of blinding light filled the void. Stanford instinctively squeezed his eyes shut, throwing up a hand to block out the worst of it.
When he blinked away the glare from his eyes, Stanford saw an entity that looked more like a bipedal version of an axolotl that was almost twice his height. Mostly likely intended as a more approachable form than a celestial entity that resembled a living nebula. Not to mention it was easier to enter any buildings or deal with people when they weren’t larger than planets. At least now Stanford could look them in the eye while they conversed.
“And what did I do to earn the honor of a visit from you?” he asked politely.
“I’m afraid that I bring you news most ill. There had been a development regarding Bill.”
With Theraprism’s unique position outside of the normal flow of time, the alarm klaxons and flashing red lights began going off three months ago, right at that moment, one trillion years ago, and three to five minutes in the future. Despite the numerous patients with shady and deadly histories, full-blown riots were rare events there. The first few attempts at instigating them were lonely affairs that didn’t go anywhere. But now that a proper one was underway— some patients took it personal when a puzzle was missing a piece— there was only limited non-time to take advantage of it.
The sturdy door was labeled as “Contraband Storage” with a smaller sign warning “no patient entry.” He’d been casing out the location for at least a third of his stay. The keypad had a regularly changing code. Almost impossible to gain access to because the orbs of healing light were too stubborn and unbribable to let it slip. Of course, smashing the keypad to bits to unlock the door would also work.
That’s why Sixer depended on retinal scanning back in the day. He was always a smart one.
The shelves were neatly labeled. And after listening to his fellow patients whine during group therapy, he knew to search the M-N shelf. If the idiot wasn’t lying, that’s where he’d find it.
“Hff,” muttered Bill as he scrambled his way up. “Gotta make this quick. That little riot in the rec room won’t keep ‘em occupied long.”
His eye scanned the numerous boxes. Reading labels and rejecting them in a frantic search for one specific box. The so-called most dangerous beings in the multiverse had their belongings locked away in these boxes and one of them must have exactly what he needed.
A box almost identical to the others had a label that was neatly labeled as “Minmaximus – DXRT 3312: 6x Globnar Champion—”
“Yes,” he whispered.
Bill pried open the lid. Tucked inside was the prize for Globnar. A glowing, semi-transparent, golden orb containing a bright yellow hourglass symbol surrounded by sparks.
“Yessss,” he hissed excitedly. “I knew it.”
A Time Wish. Minmaximus wasn’t lying. The idiot won the six of the things, but never actually managed to use all of them before being locked up. There was still one tucked away. A complete waste.
You snooze, you lose. Minmaximus didn’t deserve it. Unlike that loser, Bill wouldn’t waste the opportunity.
“Come to papa,” he cackled as he picked up the orb.
Even cut off from most of his abilities, he could sense the power practically burning inside. Enough to manipulate space, time, and reality. Like when Bill was in the midst of Weirdmageddon, but more concentrated and capable of working retroactively. The potential was like the heady rush of a drug.
A fun drug, not the type that they liked using in Theraprism and… and…
Well, it didn’t matter. He did it. The plan worked perfectly.
Cackling wildly to himself, Bill said, “Finally… Finally, I can have the revenge I’ve dreamed of!”
It would be perfect. He would kill Stanley Pines immediately. Bill wouldn’t hesitate or play with him. Just get rid of the spare twin immediately. He might keep Mabel and Dipper around. She was chaotic and creative enough to be fun and Dipper’s anxiety could be entertaining in his newly changed world. Bill would just contain them both properly, not taking any risks by depending on Gideon or anyone else. And Ford—
Oh, Ford would regret every rejecting and betraying him. Bill would keep him alive and properly restrained. Tight chains, collars, and manacles. Ensuring that Ford would never forget who was actually in charge. Eventually, Ford would remember that they both wanted the same thing, that they were on the same side, that he would make the same choices as Bill once he calmed down from his little tantrum, and that they would be much happier if Ford would just listen to him. They could both have fun with Weirdmageddon when things went correctly this time.
Ford would beg for forgiveness and apologize. Bill might subject him to some light hazing, but he was a reasonable guy. Once things were going right, he would give Ford everything that he promised in that new eternal party.
“I can fix it,” he continued excitedly. “I can have everything I want! I can—”
Visions of fire, chaos, and Weirdmageddon spreading across the planet that had been filling his mind slowly gave way to blurs of red and blue. Older memories stained in buzzing static and screams.
“I can—”
Soft voices that sang lullabies. Wavy silly straws. Reassurances that they love him despite his strange eye, his strange ramblings, and his strange flames. Pleading for him to just fit in.
“I can fix…”
He fell silent, staring at the golden orb. All that potential. A chance to have anything that he desired. Even something from much farther back. Where memories gave way to static screams and black outs.
He could fix anything.
As the alarms fell silent, Bill tightened his grip on the glowing orb. Ancient regrets and memories won out over recent revenge.
He vanished.
Stanford stared silently at the floating screen, the Axolotl holding a remote control in their hand. His mind briefly rebelled against what he’d seen. Not wanting to believe it. Then the shock gave way to frustrated anger.
Gesturing towards the screen, the one that the Axolotl created to show the footage of something that was meant to be impossible, Stanford shouted, “He escaped?”
His hands went to his temples. How could this have happened?
“Wasn’t the whole point that he couldn’t escape unless someone summoned him from outside the Theraprism?” he continued.
“An unfortunate oversight we did not foresee. He made use of a Time Wish, paradox-free.”
“Ugh,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Of course, he did.”
Because if anyone would find a way out of the consequences of his actions, it would be Bill Cipher. And he would find a way to become more dangerous than ever.
Abruptly the full implications of what Bill had done hit. And they hit hard. Stanford jerked his head back up.
“But— But nothing’s happened,” he stammered. “I mean, if he used the Time Wish to undo his mistakes and win, shouldn’t everything be different? Dimension 46’\ is the same, my family is unharmed, I’m still here… What did he change?”
The Axolotl pressed a button on the remote. The image on the screen changed. A flat disk with a flat ring around it; though perhaps the ring wasn’t completely flat in order to allow it to encircle the disk without cutting through it and only seemed flat because his eyes weren’t sensitive enough to spot the slight third-dimension. But Stanford had seen the image before. Displayed on Bill’s eye as he spoke about flat dreams and flat minds. And if there was any doubt in his mind of what he was looking at, there was a helpful label in the corner identifying it.
“The mistake he undid was older and greater. Euclydia lives now where once was a crater.”
“…a crater? Can a flat dimension leave a crater?”
“The Axolotl is doing its best with the rhyming scheme.”
It turned out that a whale song voice could sound deadpan. And an amphibian face could appear mildly annoyed. Who knew?
Wincing, Stanford mumbled, “Okay, sorry.”
The Axolotl turned its gaze back towards the screen. There was something solemn in their manner.
“Time Wish records show Bill wished to alter the past. To undo the destruction and return home at last. Euclydia is his oldest regret, it is true… But equally strong, we believe, would be you.”
Stanford stiffened as the Axolotl looked towards him again. Piercing him with its gaze. As if they could spy every complicated feeling that the implications stirred. Feelings that Stanford would rather than acknowledge or identify.
“We think you can convince him to come back to our care, return to Theraprism and continue there.”
Snorting at the ridiculous concept, he said, “You want me to go to his dimension and get Bill— Bill Cipher, my most hated enemy— to go back to therapy? Voluntarily?”
“Yes.”
Stanford would have expected that, after they finished working out all the details of what the proposal entailed, he would simply awaken back in his bunk on the Stan-O-War II. That was where he was before his dream was diverted. That outcome made the most logical sense.
But the Axolotl wasn’t a dream demon and wasn’t limited by the same restrictions. A final parting rhyme about how this might be what both of them needed to “heal from a time that was frightening” and how a “change in dynamics between might be enlightening,” the Axolotl reached out to gently tap his forehead with a finger. Another blinding flash of light overtook him and Stanford was left blinking on the deck of the boat.
He wanted to investigate exactly what they’d done and how the Axolotl accomplished that stunt. Blurring the line between dreams and reality so thoroughly that he didn’t notice when one became the other. But there were far more important matters to worry about currently. He had preparations to make.
Stanford headed into the deckhouse and grabbed his coat hanging just inside the door. They might be in somewhat warmer waters than a few months ago, but it was still February. Staying out there without a coat was chilly. But he didn’t immediately pull it on, tossing it over his shoulder as he climbed down below deck. And since it was morning outside, he knew that he would find Stan in the galley. Sitting at the table, rereading an old newspaper as if he was at a booth at Greasy’s.
“Stanley, I’m leaving Earth for a few days,” he announced bluntly.
“Sure,” he said distractedly, “sounds g— What?”
The double-take was almost comical. His brother’s eyes were practically bulging out of his head. But the situation was too grave for anything other than mild amusement.
Sitting down across from his brother, Stanford sighed wearily and said, “It’s a bit of a long story. I do not know if you read the final updates to the book when it returned, but are you familiar with an entity known as the Axolotl?”
Stan loved his brother. He really did. And he would never regret spending decades of his life working to bring Ford home. The last year and a half had been some of the best moments of his life.
But listening to his twin outline the plan that a mystical space lizard gave him about dragging Bill Cipher out of a pancake-flat world where everyone was based on something from a math textbook and shove him back into therapy jail? Stan had to admit that his life was simpler before his brother returned. And this was coming from a guy who spent half his life in Gravity Falls and its weirdness.
“But why in the world would you agree to this?” asked Stan, gesturing vaguely in front of him. “Can’t they just, I dunno, send space cops to arrest him or something?”
“They think I’ll be able to convince him with less collateral damage… But Stan, that’s not the point. I’m not really going to convince Bill of anything.” Ford narrowed his eyes in a murderous smirk, one that reminded Stan that his brother had an multiversal criminal record and a laser pistol. “I’m going to kill him once and for all.”
Stan pressed his lips together, swallowing his immediate first response. He’d gotten better at not always speaking his mind. Then he took a deep breath and gave him a smile that felt like it came out more as a grimace.
“Ohhh,” he said slowly. “Okay, gotcha.”
As Ford elaborated on what his pursuit of Bill would entail— discussing how after his experiences with Exwhylia, it seemed wise to allow the Axolotl to make adjustments so he could more easily perceive and interpret the visuals of a two-dimensional world and that they would also arrange a way for Ford to remain in communication during those days apart— Stan couldn’t help imagining a little counter board reading “547 Days Since Ford Probably Had Sex With a Triangle” being reset back to zero.
He still dreamt of stars. Bright, glittering, and shining over everything while everyone remained oblivious to something truly wonderous just out of reach. A secret that he wanted to share. He’d tried to share it. Over and over again. They needed to know about those beautiful specks of light that proved how much more there was beyond their small world. He still dreamed of showing everyone those stars and how easy it would be to change everything if anyone else could see them.
But Bill didn’t only dream of stars. He dreamt of other things now. Those stars becoming yellow eyes that he couldn’t hide from, watching his every decision for mistakes that he knew would seal his fate. Indescribable scenes of chaos, madness, and horror. Impossible creatures stretching out in too many directions and with no straight edges.
Mostly, however, he dreamt of pain, fear, sharp tools, and a terrifying sense of paralysis, as if his mind and body abruptly refused to resist what was happening.
Whether he woke peacefully after a night of beautiful stars or in a panic trying to scramble away from stabbing needles, there was always a brief wave of grief when the dream and he opened his eye. Then, despite it being too early, Bill would push himself off the pillow and start getting ready in the dark.
By now, he had the routine down quite well. Breakfast was one of the elliptical fruits in the bowl on the table. He knew that the purple ones tended to be sweeter than the red ones, but he ate whichever one that he grabbed first. Eating was already tricky enough with his unusually-positioned eye-mouth structure without spending all morning being picky on which one to eat. The tangy flavor told him that he’d guessed wrong this time. But it wasn’t too bad. Then he moved to the fridge to retrieve his morning dose.
He slid open the door of the fridge open and reached in, his hand finding and pulling out one of the cups. It didn't have to be kept cold, but it was more palatable that way. The medicine was already carefully measured out and the the two-part lid held both halves of the straw together. Bill briefly ran a hand along the wavy curves of the silly straw, his eye crinkling in a faint smile. Then he brought it close to drink.
Three sips a day to make the visions go away might have once been considered enough, but he was no longer a child. The dosage had gone up despite them taking… other precautions.
Trying not to gag on the flavor and the burning sensation, Bill finished the medicine quickly and put the cup with the other dirty dishes. It was important to stay organized. He didn’t want to risk bumping into anything later.
Next, he put together a sandwich. Thin and long rectangles of bread, a few layers of whichever toppings that his hand brushed against, and the tangy sauce that he could smell as soon as he lifted the lid. He liked mixing up the routine and surprising himself with different combinations. A tiny bit of chaos in a carefully structured life. And once he set it inside his lunchbox, no one would know what odd creation he’d made that day. Especially if he ate it quickly during his short lunchbreak.
Not that they had time to pay attention to anything during their short lunchbreak. And the work was mind-numbingly tedious. A child that hadn’t grown into their third row of lines yet could handle it. And his boss basically assumed that everyone working there was an idiot.
But it was still a job. One that made him a productive and normal member of society that could fit in with everyone else. And he was running out of options. He’d lost several jobs already or wasn’t hired in the first place. If he couldn’t keep a respectable job, then…
Well, there were reasons that most shapes looked down on isosceles triangles. There were more of them than there were jobs willing to hire them. Very few of those jobs were nice ones. He wasn’t an isosceles, but he wasn’t perfect either. Extremely narrow isosceles especially had a reputation for taking disreputable jobs. Desperate times, desperate measures. When no one will hire you, sometimes the only option left was to offer “discrete geometry studies” to more important and successful shapes.
Bill chuckled bitterly to himself. Honestly, some of his flaws might work to his advantage if he was forced into that career path.
But that would break his parents’ hearts, Bill wasn’t that desperate yet, and he didn’t want to risk giving the impression that he was failing to fit in. He needed to fulfill his proper role. He was a competent and productive equilateral triangle. He needed to prove that. Otherwise, they might take more drastic measures to make him fit in.
That couldn’t happen. He didn’t know what else they would take. He refused to consider it.
So Bill would keep this job. He would be a happy and helpful worker, never complaining. It was a great job. Boring, but great. Perfect for someone like him. He fit the job perfectly.
Lie until it was no longer a lie.
Bill shook himself off. He’d been lost in his thoughts for too long. Maybe it was a good thing that his dreams always seemed to toss him out of sleep early. He tended to waste that extra time. But then again, what else was he supposed to do? His old books, a beautifully and lovingly-maintained collection with the reels wound tight, were taken after one too many references to up because they were “too exciting for his overworked mind.” A laughable precaution, all things considered. But they and most of his other belongings were gone, so he was limited in his ability to entertain himself.
But that was fine. Less to bump into while wandering around in the dark. And he had a good routine. He would need to get moving though. He would hurry to work and afterwards, he would stop for his weekly visit with his parents. That always brightened his mood. They’d eat, drink, discuss their week, and have a nice evening together.
That’s all he really needed. Spending some time with his parents would make everything else better.
Bill took a moment to push himself off the floor with his legs and float towards the main door. It was always more difficult to navigate outside in the dark. There were more obstacles and shapes to avoid. Memorization helped. And listening, the deeper voices of higher polygons being especially important. And when someone was close enough, he could feel the light coming from them enough to get a rough idea of their location.
Because of course no one else was wandering around in the dark. The world was always bright with a constant light. It was illegal to question the source and Bill knew it was too strong to be from the stars, but it was a mystery that he wished he could risk pursuing. But the light was everywhere and never changing. And every living shape, from the lowest triangle to the highest polygons of all, radiated light. Glowing faintly and brightening when they spoke. There was no denying it. Bill knew that he was surrounded by light.
He was the only Euclydian to see stars. And now he was the only one who saw darkness.
Looking ahead out of habit and his ruined eye seeing nothing, Bill hoped for the best and proceeded out his door. He needed to get to work.