Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

After the Pines Family stopped screaming after falling into a bottomless pit that may or may not kill them all, they passed the time by sharing small stories that may or may not have happened.

Stan didn’t see any reason to protest. Listening to the kids tell funny stories was better than listening to his own stupid thoughts. He even added his own story about football and robots and hot girls in an unrealistically perfect fantasy where everyone loved him and he could do anything he wanted. You know, stuff that kids like.

Mabel looked Stan in the eye and, after a slightly hurtful amount of booing, started to tell her own story. “I’m going to tell a not terrible story called…Trooth Ache!”

Stan let out a tired sigh, already guessing what his grandniece would talk about. She and Dipper had been on his case ever since yesterday when they decided to use magical dentures to trick him into telling the truth about every dirty deed they asked about. He would be proud if they just stopped asking So. Many. Questions. About. His. Brother.

Questions that Stan hoped he wouldn’t have to answer, and at the same time desperately hoped he would get to someday.

He listened to the part about the bear, spaghetti, and digging up the magic dentures from Journal 3 (he had to figure out a way to turn the conversation around to that Journal and he had to do it now.)

“I ate it. Because I have little to no concern for other people’s possessions or emotions…Huh, that was strangely candid. Almost as if I’m unable to lie. Good night!”

“Usually I spend the hour aggressively scratching myself in places I shouldn’t mention. But sometimes I’ll obsess over how to fix the doomsday device hiding in the secret basement so I can finally get my brother back, while also tackling with the possibility that he’s dead because of me. Maybe he died a slow and agonizing death alone in the cold while I was wearing fuzzy slippers and watching TV. And then I go back to work and pretend I don’t hate myself. Now I’m going to avoid eye contact by pretending to read this newspaper, and go to the bathroom without washing my hands.”

“Hey everybody! Look at this guy's abnormal and unattractive face!”

“Because I regularly commit massive tax fraud. Even if I were honest about any income and expenses, which I never am, it would still be tax fraud because I’ve been filing taxes under someone else’s identity. I’ve been committing identity theft and fraud for the last 40 years.”

“Sometimes I think; Is this all there is? Is life just some kind of horrific joke without a punchline, and we’re all just biding our time until the sweet sweet release of death?”

“Kids! I think I have a growth forming on my back! I just wanted to be honest with you guys!”

“You see officers, I lied to you. In addition, I’ve been parking in handicap spaces, shoplifting fireworks, and smuggling endangered animals across multiple state lines. In fact, I’m drawing up some plans to rob the nearest government facility of their toxic waste to power a device that might reverse gravity and tear the word apart. But hey, I would do anything, and I mean ANYTHING, for my family. Them and money are all I have and nothing will get in my way of keeping them safe. Also, you’re fat.”

Mabel finished, “And then after we convinced the police it was all just an idea for a book, we had a very boring discussion on why messing with someone’s brain is ethically a terrible idea, and I was nice enough to throw the Trooth Teeth in a locked box and toss them into the bottomless pit forever. But a certain someone has not been returning the favor by telling us their mysterious tragic backstory!”

Dipper crossed his arms and gave Stan his angriest face, which was adorable. “Yeah, Grunkle Stan! What else are you hiding! Tell us your real name! And what does this device in the basement really do! Why do you want my Journal so badly!”

Even Soos was ganging up on Stan, and the guy almost worshiped him. “Mr. Pines, I know you have a variety of secrets and mental struggles as a result of past traumas I have never experienced and it is not my place to tell you how to process them, but in this specific situation I think it would help everybody if you were open about this, and it also might strengthen family bonds so that not even the apocalypse could tear us apart! Also, this will give me so much amazing fanfiction material!”

Honestly, what else could Stan do? “Okay, I’ll tell you everything I know. It all started a lifetime ago in Glass Shard Beach…”

The first thing Soos did when they fell out of the bottomless pit was call his co-worker. “Wendy, I’ve got something amazing to tell you. Clear the next 14 hours.”

The kids did not hate Stan, as the grifter feared they would. If anything, they actually seemed to trust him more, and insisted on seeing the portal themselves. Dipper, Mabel, Soos and Wendy helped him however they could. They couldn’t do much because none of them had any PHD’s, but it was easier knowing they were there with him.

Dipper immediately gave up his Journal to Stan, who gave it back after copying the whole book. He was also very helpful in helping Stan convince a couple government agents that the paranormal conspiracy they were looking for didn’t exist. It was all just gift shop lore.

Soos cleaned up the abandoned study after he discovered it behind the wallpaper, and it was waiting, ready for Ford to come back. Wendy helped Stan plan his break-in for the nearest government facility, and reminded him to watch out for the cameras so he didn’t get caught. And Mabel kept planning parties and family bonding experiences.

The first day after Stan came clean, Mabel planned a Welcome Home Grunkle Ford party, Watch Dork Movies that Came Out While you were Fighting for Your Life night, First Chocolate Bar in Thirty Years party, How to Use a Real Phone night, Meet Soos’ Abuelita party, Teach us Everything About Gravity Falls day, Hug Away our Issues party, and about 76 other things.

Dipper and Mabel nearly vibrated out of their skin with excitement when Gideon was arrested, the Gideon-bot was destroyed, the deed to the Mystery Shack was stolen back, Journal 2 was found, and the portal could finally be turned on, all in one day.

The screen that displayed the numbers ‘Auto Scan 0.0000000001% Complete’ was a minor inconvenience, but who cared! It was happening! Ford was getting dragged back into this dimension whether he liked it or not, and nothing less than death could stop it now.

“I’mgoingtomeettheauthorI’mgoingtomeettheauthorI’mgoingtomeettheauthorI’mgoingtomeetmyidolandI’mgoingto…I’mgoingtothrowup.”

“I haven’t been this excited since I discovered glitter yarn! Grunkle Stan we have to celebrate with a party. The biggest, loudest, most brightest and shiniest party ever with snacks and music and dancing and awesome lighting. Maybe we can even let out our happy emotions with the power of singing badly in front of a large crowd that will be judging us the whole time! The party has to be as big and loud and sparkly as my brain right now! We can invite the whole town!”

“Whatifhedoesn’tlikemewhatifhegetshereandIsmelltoosweatywhatifI’mnotsmartenoughforhimwhatifmyvoicecracksandit’ssoembarrassingthatIhavetoleavetownforeverandInevergettomeethimagainwhatifIoverthinkeverythinganditweirdsGrunkleFordouttoomuchwhatifmyoverthinkingleadstoselfsabotagewhatifIdon’toverthinkenoughandmakeafooloutofmyselfwhatif-”

Dipper let out a horrified gasp and grasped onto his twin’s shoulders. “What if I’m not the problem! You saw how scared Grunkle Ford sounded in the Journal. Adding to whatever horrible things he might have seen in the portal, who knows what he’ll be like?”

“Relax, bro. We’ll throw an awesome party tomorrow night and worry about your self-conscious anxiety-based concerns after the party. We have a couple weeks until Grunkle Ford gets here. Besides, nothing could possibly go wrong. Grunkle Stan will be reunited with his twin and nothing bad will happen ever again and life will be perfect because we’ll all immediately become best friends forever.”

“Mabel, this is serious. What if he doesn’t feel comfortable with parties or-or who knows what? We’ve never met him before. We don’t know what he’s been through.”

After Stan checked that everything was working the way it should for the sixth time (he couldn’t take it if something broke and he lost everything again. If he screwed anything up there was no way he’d be able to come back from this failure. He couldn’t do it anymore if that happened.) Stan turned to the kids. “Save it for later. This is a good day, let's take a moment to celebrate it by using admission fees to rob people blind first. We’ve got time until my brother gets here, just focus on having fun tonight.”

Thus, the Karaoke Bonanza was born.

And now, a message to all the readers:

Have any of you ever restarted your computer or set your phone down to update? Most likely. If not, you will someday. It is inevitable.

When your devices do this, they’ve probably done this thing where the screen says it’s something like 30% done, and it stays 30% done for the next fifteen minutes before suddenly jumping to 100%. Then it spends another fifteen minutes at 100% before actually being 100% done and giving you your technology back.

The point is, when devices load the whole ‘This Percent Done’ thing is completely useless. A filthy liar. That device is gonna load when it loads and nothing can predict when that is.

The other point is, the portal was the exact same way.

Stan was stuffing his face with chipackers as he watched the town celebrate the karaoke party in his yard. Everyone had shown up, from Lazy Susan to that Weird Guy Who Married a Woodpecker (the woodpecker was strangely absent, and Wendy told him about a juicy rumor that the woodpecker was cheating on her husband.) Mabel’s party was a hit, now he just needed to figure out a way to get out of singing karaoke. At least he’d already burned the outfit Mabel wanted him to wear.

It was at the height of the festivities that everything came crashing down. Literally. Everything rose five feet into the air and slammed back to the ground, leaving tables, people, and worst of all-the snacks-toppled over and scattered across the floor.

Stan blinked. He almost missed the blue lights flashing from inside the Shack as he realized what was happening. He had to get these people to leave right now.

Gravity hiccuped again and sent everything scattered in a mess of party supplies and human limbs. As he got back up, Stan overheard Tyler Cutebiker cooing something about adorable baby earthquakes at the dirt behind him and was struck with an idea that he totally would’ve come up with on his own without stealing the idea from anyone else.

He locked eyes with Wendy, who had the same idea. She sent Stan a small nod from across the yard before pressing a blow horn and screaming at the top of her lungs, “They’re earthquakes! Everybody run for your lives! We’ve gotta get out of here!”

Wendy’s fake panic was highly contagious.

“WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!”

“AAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

“GRAB A PITCHFORK EVERYBODY! IT’S EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!”

“SAVE YOURSELVES!”

“THE WORLD ENDS TODAY!”

“LET’S START LOOTING STORES FOR APOCALYPSE SUPPLIES!”

Stan let out an evil laugh as he watched them all run aimlessly into the woods, Wendy following behind them with a blow horn, herding them further away from the Mystery Shack. If there was one thing Stan learned from his years in sales, it was to never underestimate the power of an angry or panicked mob.

Then Stan, Soos, Dipper and Mabel ran down to the basement so fast they nearly flew. The four of them stopped right in front of the black and yellow safety line on the floor and watched as the portal opened in a swirling hypnotic array of colors and space, holding their breaths as they watched for a figure on the other side. And with a mighty final bang that nearly flipped Gravity Falls upside down and tore the portal into pieces once again, a lone figure finally stepped out of the portal just before it shut down again.

Ford slowly and cautiously walked through the portal just before the swirling interdimensional gateway died down. He didn’t even have time to adjust to his new surroundings and figure out where he was before he heard someone scream, ‘BROTHER!’

His mind immediately went on high alert at the loud sound, every muscle tensed up screamed Danger Not Safe Fight Run as his mind registered a huge man in a red hat running straight towards him with his arms spread out. Probably to attack him. A Threat.

Ford went on autopilot and punched the Threat in the face.

The Threat staggered back with another loud sound, and Ford took the chance to back away from the Threat. It might be a predator, or prey that was just as scared and violent as he was, or maybe it had young nearby, or-or-or…

Ford crouched low to the ground, his hand hovering above his space gun as his eyes darted around the dark room, looking for more enemies and safe places to run and hide. He found himself absent mindedly crouching in the only form of shelter nearby, which happened to be between the huge scraps of the broken portal.

“What was that-!” Stan yelled in anger but stopped short as he noticed Ford was backing up toward the portal. Stan knew it was broken for good. He knew there was no way it could take anyone away ever again, but knowing that didn’t stop his heart from leaping into his throat when his brain decided to remind him of what happened the last time Ford got close to that portal. Stan rushed forward to yank his brother away from the device.

Except, the second he advanced on him, Ford fixated on him with pinpointed eyes and adjusted his stance into a ready pounce. Once Stan’s hand was in reaching distance, Ford shot forward. The grifter lost the fight embarrassingly quickly. In the time it took to blink, he was pinned to the ground beneath his own twin, and he didn’t know what to do with the hurt that squeezed his chest. He thought Ford would’ve at least been happy to see his own twin after all these years.

Ford held the Threat down. He leaned his head down and bared his teeth above the neck. That was when he smelled the Threat, and swallowed down the growl building in his throat. The Threat smelled…

He smelled…

Like Oregon pine trees and soda and the cotton ink blend of money and something else indescribably and uniquely Stan.

Not the Stan’s of other dimensions he always avoided because it hurt too much, but HIS Stan. The Stan who was companionship and safety and pack.

“MR. PINES!”

Ford bolted upright and stood protectively above his brother. Teeth once again bared as a growl built in his chest, he aimed his gun at a large gopher-like creature running straight toward them.

“NO!” The gun was ripped out of Ford’s hands and Stan kicked it across the room. “Calm down, Poindexter!”

Calm. Ford racked his brain for any memory of what that word might mean…

Forget that! The gopher-man-who-wasn’t-a-gopher-man-because-he-could-talk-but-was-perhaps-descended-from-one was coming closer and Ford had no weapon anymore. Too close. Too close.

“Mr. Pines, are you okay!”

Ford let out a whine and backed away again. Or at least, he tried too. Stan grabbed his coat sleeve to stop him, and that small amount of contact paralyzed him. He hadn’t had friendly contact in…in however many years he was away. Ford had honestly forgotten such a thing existed, and when Stan grabbed his sleeve every neuron in his brain screamed that he was in danger and something was trying to hurt him.

But this was Stan and Stan was here and that must mean he was home and Ford would never hurt his pack-brother again and Stan protected the not-gopher-man which means he might also be pack…? Ford didn’t know and it was all too much and he just wanted to find a quiet safe place to hide.

His brother and the not-gopher-man were talking to each other, but whatever they were saying, Ford didn’t hear it. He was once again distracted by two more creatures walking toward them. He had to breathe. He had to make it through this. They were small. They were children. Tiny cubs that were still in the early developmental stages of life, and they were with his brother. What was their relation to each other?

He had to focus and find repose. Count the digits of Euler’s Number until he felt his heartbeat slow down. The cubs were right there.

Apparently, humans in his home dimension possessed the evolutionary compulsion to protect their young. He had forgotten about that while he was away. Even though he was afraid and tense, Ford found himself kneeling down to their eye level in an effort to appear non-threatening. He couldn’t tell if he was more scared or curious of the cubs, it was all some unnameable tangle of emotions beneath his ribcage. All he knew was that he’d prefer that these children not experience distress and remain unharmed.

The two children stopped in front of him and Ford categorized everything about their appearance in his head. Everything from the color of their eyes (brown not yellow) to the shape of their cheekbones. If they were with Stan, then they had to be important.

“HI, I’M MABEL! I’m your great-niece and a great niece and I didn’t know you existed until two weeks ago! Look at my sweater, I made it myself and it plays music!” She pressed a button on her stomach and music filled the room for a few seconds.

The brightly colored cub was really loud and Ford had the urge to scan the room again and make sure the noise hadn’t attracted anything dangerous, but he was distracted by the fact that the cub-Mabel-was baring a lot of her teeth at him. She’s angry with me.

The other cub beside her was…Ford didn’t remember what that facial expression meant but the child’s wide eyes were fixated on him and he seemed very sweaty and shaky. Is he scared? Is he sick? “Y-you’re the Author. I-I-I”ve read your journals and I have so many questions!” The cub grabbed a very familiar red and gold book out of his vest and held it up. Ford stared at the number 3 written on the cover. He’d been positive he would never see that journal again, and this cub had found it. All Ford could do was stare at it as the child said, “My name’s Dipper, by the way.”

Both children stared at him expectantly and Ford suddenly felt very lost. He desperately searched his mind for any memories on conventional practices for social interactions between two or more beings who were not familiar with each other. Eventually, Ford landed on his best guess. He held up a hand and said. “G-greetings.” The words felt clumsy in his mouth, and his voice was rough from disuse.

Mabel gasped and Ford could swear her eyes turned sparkly when she saw his hands. “You really do have six fingers! That’s a full finger friendlier than normal!” She reached out to take his hand and Ford couldn’t help but flinch away at the touch.

Dipper watched the interaction with another strange expression before clearing his throat. “So…how are you?”

Ford tilted his head in confusion. “How am I what?”

Where is Stan?

He swiveled his head around until he located his twin and the not-gopher-man again.

“What’s wrong with you!” Stan’s gravelly voice rang out. “Pointing a gun at my employee, punching me in the face-”

“It’s cool dawg, here’s your space blaster thing back.” Soos handed Ford back his gun, and now that Ford got a good look at the large man, he seemed more like a giant teddy bear than anything else. “I’m Soos.”

“Thirty years of my life spent trying to turn that stupid portal on to get you back home and this is how you repay me! What about a ‘thank you’ at least!”

Ford blinked at the outburst. “Thank you?”

Chapter Text

Stan had imagined this moment about a billion times by now, but never had he thought their reunion would go like this. He’d imagined a thousand different scenarios for how their reunion might go, some more unrealistic than others. He knew his brother might not be the same after spending 30 years in some crazy sideburn dimension (yeesh, it was worse than his mullet) and he knew that Ford had every right to be angry with him for pushing him into the portal.

All that common sense was thrown out the window when Stan actually saw Ford. His stupid heart betrayed him and made Stan reach out for a hug and that freaked Ford out somehow. Stan screwed things up again, and now his brother would barely speak to him. Ford was acting weird, cagey, and…different from anything Stan expected. He hated the analogy, but it almost reminded him of a wild animal.

After introductions were made and a brief summary of what Stan had been up to the last three decades was given, the Pines Family squeezed into the elevator so they could finally leave this cursed basement behind once and for all. Ford crammed himself into a corner and just stared at them. It was kinda creepy, honestly. Stan used to know Ford better than their own mother did, but now he had no clue what Ford was thinking. He thought he saw Ford sniff Soos and the kids, but he couldn’t be sure. Like he said; weird and creepy.

But if Stan had to choose one word to describe Ford the best, he would say that Ford looked…lost.

The elevator doors opened and all five of them walked out of the vending machine. “Alright, bro. Welcome to the tour of the new and improved Mystery Shack!” Stan was not masking his pain and helplessness behind a showman facade. He was not.

Ford’s eyes swiveled around the room, gaze lingering on doorways and small hiding places while he was looking for who-knows-what and scrutinizing everything he saw.

“Here at the Mystery Shack, tourists come from all over the world to see wonders never before seen. Oddities that will amaze you! Befuddlements that will befuddle you!” Stan stopped and stood in front of his brother. “But first, I’ll need $15 for admission.” The grifter stared at Ford expectedly. Unfortunately, the joke went right over his brother's head and all Stan got was a hopelessly confused look. “Just kidding! You live here! But you will have to pay for anything in the gift shop.”

Stan pointed out the various displays in the most dramatic way possible. “Be amazed at my collection of photos of horses doing bizarre and unnatural things.” On the wall hung photoshopped black and white pictures of horses. “Be astounded at the real invisible man.” Ford poked at the hat and glasses on a string. “Be shocked by the only known footprint of a baby yeti.” Stan held up a cast of a human footprint. “And now I present to you my greatest discovery, the sascrotch!” Stan pointed to a taxidermied orangutan wearing underwear. “And it’s all 100% real!” Stan finished with a wink.

Ford carefully looked at every one of the displays with the same blank expression. He never said anything.

Ford was mad at Stan, wasn’t he? No, no he must be furious. Stan hadn’t even thought about what Ford might think about all of this. Ford was a man of science and to see everything he studied in Gravity Falls twisted into something fake to be put on display for money and laughs must feel like Stan was spitting on everything Ford loved. Stan was an idiot! What did he think would happen!

He watched Ford wander into the gift shop, circle the room, and poke at the bobbleheads and snow globes with an unreadable expression on his face. Ford still didn’t say anything.

Smile wider, Stan. Hide it behind a joke and keep the tour moving along.

He rushed his family through the gift shop and museum, and ushered them into the part of the Shack meant for living like a normal person. For every new room they entered, Ford seemed to prowl around the perimeter before exploring the rest of the room.

“Behold the TV! A device of wonder that grants its master the ability to sit in one spot for hours and hours! Entertainment is not guaranteed.” Stan pulled out a box of old vhs tapes. “And look, Sixer. Future technology. Highly advanced stuff. Everyone uses these nowadays.” He snickered at the reverent look Ford gave the items.

Soos opened his mouth to interrupt Stan, who promptly moved to the kitchen before Soos could say a word and correct him.

“Ignore the unwashed dishes and dead possum on the counter. As you probably remember, this was your kitchen before you disappeared, and now it’s my kitchen. And these are my chairs, my table, my canned brown meat in case of an apocalypse, my dishes, my knives with mysterious and dark origins used to commit crimes not suitable for discussing in the same room we eat,” Stan opened the fridge door with a flourish. “And my food. Eat whatever you want whenever you want, and if we run out of food we’ll just order pizza.”

Ford perked up at the word “food” and came rushing over, leaving Stan to wonder for the trillionth time if his brother ever settled down with a home and a steady source of food in that portal or if his living situation was more similar to his own 10 years on the streets.

Ford’s eyes widened the second he laid eyes on a carton of orange juice. He immediately found a cup and poured himself a glass of juice. (Not before discretely pocketing a few pieces of food into the large pockets of his trenchcoat.)

“Here’s to your first glass of orange juice in 30 years,” Dipper said.

“HAPPY ORANGE JUICE PARTY!” Mabel yelled.

Ford actually started crying when he took the first sip. Tears spilled down his cheeks and he clutched the drink close to him. “I-I missed orange juice.”

Apparently Ford was happier about a glass of orange juice than seeing his own twin. Stan shoved the messy feelings he refused to give any name except “anger” too deep deep down. He made an effort to sound like he couldn’t care less about this and sarcastically responded, “I missed you too, pal.” Where was his ‘I miss you?’

After Ford was done reuniting with his citrus flavored long lost love, they went upstairs and showed Ford the attic that doubled as the kids’ room, Stan’s room, the bathroom, the empty storage room that used to house cursed wax statues, and the rest of the house. The tour ended with the final room on the list; Ford’s old study room, which was where Ford would be staying from now on.

Soos informed his brother that until they could get him an actual bed, Ford was stuck sleeping on the couch, but there were plenty of sheets and blankets in the closet if he needed them.

With the conclusion of the tour, the kids hounded Ford. They asked him a million questions and talked his ear off for a full minute as Ford stood there absolutely still, and still looking very lost, before Stan decided to have compassion on his twin. Stan didn’t need to be able to read Ford’s body language to know that this was overwhelming. It was a lot to take in in one night, and anyone would need a chance to stop and breathe. Stan may be angry, but he didn’t hate Ford. So Stan stepped in. “Alright, kiddos. It’s been a long day. I’m sure your Grunkle Ford is tired and he and I have some catching up to do. Time to hit the hay.”

Dipper looked ready to explode with how fast he was moving. “But it’s the Author! I’ve been waiting all summer to meet him and I have so many questions and-”

“It can wait until morning. Now go to bed.” Stan put a hand on their shoulders and gently pushed them towards the attic. Soos left to go home and tell Wendy everything that happened. Stan hoped for Wendy’s sake it didn’t take 14 hours again. He watched them all disappear around the corner, leaving Stan and Ford alone in the old study.

The two of them stood side by side in the quiet room, not knowing what to say to the other. They just looked at each other.

Stan let out an awkward cough and broke the silence. “So, uh, we look really old now. When did that happen?”

The silence smothered them again when Ford didn’t respond. The truth was, Ford hadn’t had a conversation with anyone in a very long time and had completely missed the social cue that he was supposed to respond at all. Ford was perfectly content with listening to his brother talk anyways. He thought he would never get to hear Stan’s voice again, but here he was with his twin and in his pack brother’s home with new additions to his family. Maybe he was still a bit scared, but more than anything Ford was so so happy.

Admittedly, it did hurt a little bit to see his work on anomalies twisted into a tourist trap. He had to remind himself that nothing Stan displayed had remotely resembled his own scientific findings, which meant his own work was technically untainted. Besides, Stan had to survive somehow, and this dimension required a certain form of currency to be earned by its inhabitants if they wished to gather the resources necessary to survive. Ford understood more than anyone that you had to do whatever it took to survive.

And Stan was amazing at it. The attractions were so bizarre and clever. Stan had a homemade replica of P.T. Barnum’s Fiji Mermaid, which must have been incredibly difficult to recreate. The invisible man was clearly just a hat and a pair of glasses tied to a string, but the way Stan talked about it was so entertaining that people paid money just to see it and thanked him for the privilege. It was total junk and his brother managed to make it work!

Stan had come up with ideas that Ford could never think of. On top of all that, Stan, who never graduated high school, was able to reconstruct a transuniversal polydimensional meta-vortex on his own. Now the whole pack was safe and together because of his brother. Stan was smarter than he ever thought, and how could he have ever thought otherwise?

Ford gave his brother a soft smile and his heart nearly burst with love as he stood perfectly still beside him. After 30 years (Mabel said that’s how long he was gone) he’d forgotten how people displayed physical affection in his home dimension, so instead he stood a bit closer to Stan and let all of his happy feelings come out in soft rumbly purrs.

Stan’s face scrunched up in an expression Ford didn’t have the time to decipher before Stan asked, “What’s that sound you're making?”

The sound abruptly cut off.

Ford stumbled through what he had to say next, because he knew what he wanted to say but he wasn’t sure how to say it. There were so many things that were necessary for efficient communication. Tone, wording, pacing, volume, and a plethora of tiny things that he hadn’t practiced in a long long time.

Ford tried his best anyways. “Stan, you can watch the cu-kids…this summer. I’ll stay in the basement to clean up your mess…with the portal. A-after summer…” Ford frowned as he thought of the best way to say this. “Give me the house back,” If the territory was his then he could be in charge of providing for his pack and Stan could rest. He could keep Stan safe and happy like his twin always deserved. “Give me my name back,” Both of them would have their real legal identities back and there would be no more secrets or lying to the government or anybody else. They could stop hiding. “And the Mystery Shack can close.” He was a genius. He used the word can which meant Stan could choose. He could close the Mystery Shack and retire if he wanted to, and Ford would take care of them both. He would hunt and protect his pack while Stan enjoyed a well-deserved retirement if he chose to. And if Stan loved his job and wanted to keep the Shack then he didn’t have to do that. As long as his pack brother was happy.

Nailed it.

The quiet purrs built in his chest again. His brother was here and he’d almost forgotten what companionship was and it was both the scariest and happiest thing he’d ever felt. He desperately wanted to hide in a corner all alone where the environmental and social stimuli he didn’t understand weren't bombarding him, and he knew what to expect. Where everything was comfortable and familiar. But at the same time he wanted to never leave his pack's side and to always stay where they were so he could be happy with them and feel like he was a part of something important, and he could keep them safe and feel safe.

(Humans of his home dimension were evolved to be pack animals, yet Ford had never felt like that category included him until about 30 minutes ago, when he walked through the portal to a pack waiting for him after 30 years of solitude.)

It didn't matter because Stan was here. He was home. His pack was here. This place was safe and they loved each other and…

And Stan’s face was scrunching up. “Fine, on one condition.” The grifter bit out.

Ford couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but something about the way ‘fine’ was said didn’t sound nearly as happy as he thought it would sound.

Then Stan did something that brought all of Ford’s thoughts to a screeching halt. Stan squared his shoulders and stood straight up. His eyes got wide, his eyebrows tilted down, and all of his teeth were bared. The energy in the room completely changed in the span of half a second and it came out of nowhere. What was Stan doing? Was his twin being aggressive? Why? This wasn’t how positive emotion was displayed in this dimension, right?

“You stay away from the kids! I don’t want them in danger.”

He’s angry with me. Why is he angry? Ford froze in panic. He didn’t understand what his brother was talking about or why Stan was saying these things. Nothing made sense.

Stan pointed a finger at Ford’s face and leaned forward, looming over him. Ford immediately leaned back, stomach exposed and away from Stan’s personal space. He tilted his head back to bare his throat in submission. He would not fight Stan. He had to make things right somehow.

But the anger didn’t stop. Stan looked Ford straight in the eye and said without any hesitation, “Because as far as I’m concerned, they’re the only family I have left.”

Ford could almost hear the sound of his heart shattering into millions of pieces.

A distressed whine tore at his throat. What did he do wrong? Why was his pack brother so upset at him? Did he not want this, not want him?

Stan turned his back, ignoring the lost heartbreak on Ford’s face. He stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him, leaving Ford all alone in his old study.

Maybe he’d misjudged the whole situation. Maybe Stan didn’t love him as much as Ford loved Stan. Pained whimpers filled the empty air. His hands clutched his trenchcoat in a death grip, one hand over the pocket where he kept the photo of him and his brother when they were cubs. He pulled the fabric tighter around himself, as if the clothing could shield him from everything.

Ford’s chest hurt. His pack didn’t want him and he didn’t know why. He felt small and weak and vulnerable. He wanted to hide alone in a dark hole forever and he wanted someone he trusted to hold him and tell him he was okay. He wanted Stan. Instead, he curled in on himself and was left to wonder what he did wrong. He wouldn’t purr again for a long, long time after that.

Chapter Text

Ford was curled up in a tight ball in the middle of the study room, the same place he’d been for the past few hours. He sniffed miserably and wiped his eyes as he thought for the hundredth time about what Stan said. His pack didn’t want him. He may be allowed to live with them, but that didn’t mean he was welcome into their lives.

The cubs seemed to want to spend time with him (he was starting to think that when Mabel bared her teeth, she was not communicating anger or hostility, but that didn’t change the way his heart pounded in his chest because aggression was what he was used to seeing), but the cubs weren’t in charge and cubs of any dimension generally weren’t known for making smart choices. If Stan, the older experienced leader of the pack, rejected Ford, then it was only a matter of time before Dipper, Mable and Soos would follow. That’s the dynamic he’s witnessed in nearly every pack animal he’d come across that functioned under a social hierarchy in every dimension he’s been to.

But Ford didn’t want to leave. This may be the dimension he was born in, but the world he came back to was so different from the one he left that it felt nothing like home anymore. Even if this place was exactly how he remembered, it wouldn’t change the fact that Ford was too different. He knew he wasn’t quite right. Nothing about him was suitable for a civilized life anymore. He had nothing except the few items he could carry in his trenchcoat and his pack that didn’t want him.

Ford simply had nowhere else to go, and he didn’t want to be anywhere else. How could he be sure the pack was safe unless he was there to help protect it? How could he be happy if he wasn’t absolutely sure the pack was happy? What else would he have to live for if not the wellbeing of his brother and the cubs? What else was left?

He whined at the thought of leaving them behind. The thought of being alone again sent pangs of something painful through his chest.

No. No, he would be better. He would make it up to Stan. He’d prove he was useful and could contribute, provide, protect, and nurture. Then he would earn his place in the pack.

Mind made up, Ford wiped his tears away one last time and uncurled with a determined glint in his eye. Tomorrow morning he’d start this new mission. But first, he had to face his greatest enemy once again; Sleep.

Ford stared at the couch that Soos told him he had to sleep on. He searched his brain for memories of the normal sleeping behaviors of this dimension's inhabitants and copied them as closely as he remembered.

Horizontal positioning from head to toe. Flat on his back. Atop the bedding. That was what he was supposed to do. That was normal in this dimension, right? Maybe? It felt slightly uncomfortable so he couldn’t be sure, but eventually decided he was probably guessing correctly. Maybe. With that, Ford closed his eyes and slowed his breathing in an effort to fall asleep.

Two eyes shot back open and Ford realized very quickly that sleeping wasn’t going to happen like this.

His entire body was spread out which left his belly exposed, and that left him too vulnerable. The couch was way too soft to be comfortable and the location was far too accessible to any intruders. He was unprotected like this even when he curled up as tight as he could. It wasn’t safe.

Ford’s eyes darted back and forth across the empty room, paranoid of the things that might be hiding in the dark just waiting for him to let his guard down. He had to find another place to sleep. One that was hidden and well defended.

At this point in his life, Ford was perfectly capable of sleeping on a pile of bricks, in tree branches, at desks, in garbage, and anywhere else defended and isolated enough that he could close his eyes for a few moments when he had to. It was necessary more often than not. But whenever he could, whenever he was alone and as certain as he could be that danger was nowhere near, he always chose to sleep in his nests instead.

99.97% of the dimensions he visited didn’t have free beds lying around everywhere. As a result, he had no choice but to learn how to build a defensive shelter suitable for a nomadic lifestyle as quickly and efficiently as possible utilizing nothing except what he carried on his back and the materials found in the surrounding environment by observing the creatures around him.

He needed a safe, small, dark, quiet corner to build a little nest. Away from the wide open space on top of the couch where threats could see him and stalk him and-

Ford darted around the room, checking every nook and cranny until he was absolutely sure the place was safe, while also figuring out the best place to put a nest. Then a backup location in case his first one was discovered, and a backup for the backup. But the room didn’t have enough. There were too few places to hide. He was too exposed here it wasn’t safe it wasn’t-

Breathe. You’ve dealt with worse. Breathe. Focus on your intellect.

‘What intellect?’ A tiny voice in his head whispered. ‘You’re nothing but a stupid animal now.’

He shook his head and growled in displeasure. The only suitable spot was pressed against the wall under the couch. If that location was compromised, he could find another place somewhere else in the Shack.

Next, Ford had to look for materials. He found all of the blankets and pillows that Soos told him about and took a moment to marvel at how clean and warm they were before crawling under the couch with them.

All of his attention shifted to building the nest. All the materials woven and layered together based on their primary function, whether that was camouflage, structure, warmth, or cushioning. Long ago, Ford had learned to shut off the part of his brain that pointed out how uncivilized this behavior was and just do whatever it took to survive and find some small degree of comfort.

Ford finished by tugging his trenchcoat off his shoulders and laid it on top of the other fabrics before curling in the center of the nest on the floor. He curled into a tight ball surrounded by a wall of pillows and buried his nose in his trenchcoat, letting the familiar smells clinging to it fill his nose.

If it weren’t for the conversation earlier, Ford would have been ecstatic. He hadn’t been able to make a nest so soft and clean and cozy in a very long time. As it was, it still took every effort on his part not to start crying again.

Ford knew the walls would never stop a predator, but the barrier and the familiarity of the smells and the tiny dark hiding spot gave him at least the illusion of safety. Ford burrowed into the nest and stayed there, hand resting on his gun where it was tucked between the folds of fabric just in case.

Ford closed his eyes and thought about everything he had to do tomorrow. Disassemble the portal, figure out how to appease Stan, adjust to a new society and learn how to properly socialize, protect and nurture the cubs while respecting the boundary Stan set about staying away from them, and prove he could be a good pack member.

He fell asleep wondering how he could possibly pull it off.

Dipper was the first one awake. His eyes shot open and a wide smile spread across his face just as the sky was starting to turn the shade of blue-gray that meant the sun was on its way. This only happened on Christmas mornings, and now it apparently happened on TheAuthorishereI’mmeetingtheAuthorandhe’srelatedtome mornings too.

Dipper’s excited squeal woke Mabel up, and his sister responded with an excited squeal of her own. Mabel had plans for her two broken teacups of grunkles. Hehehehehe.

The kitchen was the first victim of the twins' excitement. Mabel was a tornado of craft supplies as she flew back and forth across the room until everything was perfect.

Dipper sat at the table with a frighteningly long list in his hands. Ink had spilled all over the table from the thinking pens he’d chewed to death. The corpses of all the brave thinking pens that died in the line of duty littered the ground, yet Dipper still nibbled on another pen as he read and revised and added to the list of questions for Grunkle Ford.

Both twins were so wrapped up in their own little worlds that they never noticed Ford open the door to his old study and silently creep towards the basement, sending them a longing look as he passed by.

After he finally finished writing all 438 of his questions down, Dipper folded the paper up, stuffed it in his jacket, and went to help his sister.

“I just need to set up the confetti cannon and finish cooking the bacon. I thought it would be done by now, but bacon takes forever to cook and the grease keeps jumping up to bite me.”

“I can cook the bacon,” Dipper offered.

Mabel narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “The only food you’ve ever made before is cereal, hot dogs and popcorn. Are you sure?”

Dipper grabbed the tongs and said, “Absolutely.”

After a moment, his sister made a decision. “So all you need to do is stand there, flip the bacon over every couple of minutes, and watch it until it’s cooked. Do you think you can handle it, Dip-Dop?”

Dipper stepped up to the frying pan where the bacon was cooking. “That sounds so easy that even a baby could do it.” He yelped and nearly jumped out of his skin when the bacon spat tiny drops of grease at his arms. ‘So that’s what Mabel meant when she said the grease was biting her.’

Mabel watched him for a minute before turning her back and making her way to the attic where her confetti cannon was stored.

She’d only just stepped into the hallway when she heard Dipper scream, “FIRE! There’s a fire! What did I do!?!”

She ran back to the kitchen, turned off the stove, covered the fire with the pan’s lid, and put her hands on her hips as she told her dumb brother to go find the confetti cannon instead. (How she’d gotten so good at putting out fires in the first place was irrelevant.)

Dipper did not argue with her.

It was with no small amount of embarrassment that Dipper left the kitchen. He found Mabel’s confetti cannon and made his way down the stairs. As he walked down the hallway and by the gift shop, the click-hiss of the secret vending machine door opening had him pause.

Curious, Dipper stopped and watched from behind a doorway as the vending machine was slowly pushed open to reveal Grunkle Ford.

Grunkle Ford cautiously peeked out of the door, looking back and forth like he was expecting an ambush. Dipper squished himself behind the corner and waited a full minute before looking back. He peered around the corner and saw the old man standing in front of the snow globes in the gift shop, his hands hovering over them uncertainly.

Ford reached out to grab a snow globe but snatched his hand away at the last moment. His face scrunched together in distress and he paced back and forth across the room before reaching out to the snow globes all over again. It was almost like he was afraid to take the snow globe he wanted, or he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch them.

‘You’ll have to pay for anything in the gift shop,’ Grunkle Stan told Grunkle Ford. But it was just a snow globe, surely Ford didn’t think Stan was being so serious. It was Grunkle Stan, and he respected rebellion. Besides, Grunkle Ford was family.

Ford looked back at the vending machine, then in the direction of the kitchen, before steeling himself and tucking a snow globe away in his trenchcoat. He turned to the vending machine and started to walk back towards the basement.

Then Wendy walked through the door.

The redhead came in with a bag of ice in her arms and barely glanced at Grunkle Ford as she said, chill and casual as ever, “‘Sup, Stan Two.” Before heading to the chest freezer to refill the ice.

Wendy barely paid Ford any mind, but the same could not be said for Ford.

Ford froze. Every muscle tense and every ounce of his attention on her. His posture shifted into something that looked…defensive? Angry? Scared? Dipper wasn’t sure. What Dipper did know was that the look in Grunkle Ford’s eyes was the same look he had when he tried to shoot Soos last night.

Grunkle Ford’s hand reached to the weird space gun at his hip, and Dipper ran out of the doorway where he abandoned the confetti cannon and stepped in front of Wendy faster than he could blink.

“WAIT!” Dipper screamed.

Ford went deadly still, hand hovering over his gun and eyes fixated on Wendy.

“Wait, Grunkle Ford! This is, uhhh…” Dipper looked at Wendy’s confused expression for a second, and turned back to his grunkle. “This is just Wendy. She works at the Mystery Shack, like Soos does. I’m sorry we forgot to tell you about her with all the excitement last night, but she helped us bring you back too. She was distracting the town when you came through the portal, but-but it’s Wendy. We can trust her with anything. She’s not dangerous or anything. Well, she could probably beat up a bear. But she’s chill. She’s cool.”

Ford was quiet for a moment, eyes flicking rapidly between Wendy, Dipper, the entrance to the basement, the door she walked through and the door leading to the rest of the Mystery Shack.

Wendy relaxed her shoulders and tried to appear as non-threatening as possible. “Are you okay man? You look…jumpy.”

At that, Ford averted his gaze and gave a short nod before bolting away from the two of them and back into the basement.

Dipper and Wendy stared at the vending machine Ford disappeared behind for a long moment.

“That dude has got some serious issues,” Wendy eventually said.

“I figured as much.” Dipper replied. “Who knows what he experienced on the other side of that portal. He might be traumatized for the rest of his life. Do you think he’s got any cool stories from his time in the portal? Do you think he’d mind telling them in detail? Maybe I can ask when we explore the cave system underneath the town. I bet he’ll be so excited to see the dinosaurs trapped in tree sap. Maybe if I can figure out what traumatized him then I can figure out the best way-”

“Whoa, Dipper. Slow down.” Wendy said. “Maybe now isn’t the best time.”

“But I've waited so long to learn about the mysteries of this town and not only is my idol right there he's related to me and-and…” And the Author flinched away from physical contact, barely spoke, and looked at everything like he was waiting to be attacked. He was clearly Not Okay.

Dipper thought about everything he noticed and everything he was worried about. He pulled the list of questions out of his jacket and looked at all 438 of his questions. “And I’m being selfish, aren’t I?”

Wendy put a hand on his shoulder. “You just got a bit too excited. A long lost relative who investigated the strange and unusual before mysteriously disappearing and came back after 30 years of interdimensional wandering is a very exciting situation. But your great uncle is clearly in a delicate state of mind right now. You’ll get to ask him all your questions and do everything you want to do with him someday. But for now, just give him some time to adjust and heal from whatever made him all weird.”

He gave a small smile, and Wendy went back to her job of restocking the chest freezer. Wendy always knew what to do.

Dipper folded the list back up, tucked it away and sighed.

He slowly made his way back to the kitchen and left the confetti cannon by the table. “Mabel, I was thinking about Grunkle Ford. Maybe we should rethink this.”

Mabel put the cooked bacon on the kitchen table and said. “You’re telling me. I just realized we’ve been going about this all wrong.”

Dipper breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay good, let's think of-”

“We need to go bigger. “ She declared. “We need to make our Grunkles bond and to do that, we need to break down Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford’s barriers through brute force! Hugs, loud and happy noise, bright colors, silly food, making them overcome their fears by forcing them into uncomfortable situations. We will use these things and make the two of them hug it out and love each other again or die trying!”

“But what if that just makes everything worse,” Dipper protested.

“Leaving things the way they are is going to make everything worse. Our broken teacups need the Power of Mabel to save the day.”

“Mabel, I’m being serious! The Power of Mabel worked with Grunkle Stan in the past but all of this-” Dipper pointed to the confetti cannon, the banners, the bonding activities, the glitter and party supplies, and told his sister, “We don’t know Grunkle Ford yet. I want this to work as much as you do, but what if the unrestrained Power of Mabel is too much for him right now?”

Mabel looked around, and remembered how Grunkle Ford flinched away from her when she reached out to touch his hand. “Where did this attitude come from? Five minutes ago you were all ‘Questions! Science! Nerd bonding!’ and now you’re all ‘Caution! Calm! Planning!’”

Dipper told her about what just happened in the gift shop, and about what Wendy said.

“But I have to do something to help,” Mabel told him. “How can I be happy if the people I love aren’t happy? You can’t convince me that helping our Grunkles is a bad idea. The Power of Mabel always works. It has too.”

Dipper gave his twin a reassuring hug. “There is no greater power on earth than the Power of Mabel. It just might take some time to figure out what Power Mabel needs to use.”

Mabel put on her thinking face. “Okay,” She decided. “We’re still doing this. I have to try, and if it doesn’t work then we’ll do it your way. We can figure this out together. Now let’s go get Soos and Wendy.”

Chapter Text

Ford tucked away the sealed interdimensional rift into his trenchcoat and left the basement to join the pack in the kitchen. He reminded himself again that taking the snow globe from Stan’s gift shop and repurposing it as a containment unit was necessary for the safety of the pack, but what if his twin noticed the snow globe was gone and was angry at him?

‘You will have to pay for anything in the gift shop,’ Stan said. What if Stan was joking? He did that a lot when they were cubs, but Ford couldn’t remember how to identify his home dimensions’ forms of humor, or how to properly react to them. What if Stan was serious? What if he kicked Ford out for breaking one of the first rules he set?

It was a necessary sacrifice. He told himself. All that matters is that the pack is safe.

He crept towards the kitchen, eyeing the dark corners and doors and windows for anything dangerous or different. He heard Stan, Soos, the cubs, and Wendy in the kitchen. Was Wendy part of the pack too? Was she another person he had to figure out how to connect with? How was he supposed to do this with so many people?

Ford ignored the way his heart pounded in his chest and ignored the compulsion to get out run get safe hide from the danger.

Ford stopped in the hallway and listened to the conversation in an effort to assess the situation before he was spotted. He could not afford to screw this up.

“This is stupid,” Stan grumbled.

“This is beautiful,” Soos gasped. “The dazzle, the sparkle, the shiny. Mabel dawg, you are a genius.”

Mabel’s cheery voice rang out, “Come on, Grunkle Stan. Where did this sour attitude come from?”

“I’m not sour, I just-” Stan let out a sigh. “Sweetie, I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not a bad thing. But I can’t do this today. I need to open the Mystery Shack and-”

“And the Shack is in shambles, along with the whole town” Dipper interrupted. “There was this thing called ‘gravity’ that destroyed the whole town last night. There’s nothing to open and no customers to con, everybody is busy with repairs and the construction company isn’t gonna get to the Mystery Shack for at least another week.”

Beyond Ford’s field of vision, Dipper gave Stan a disappointed look. “That was a terrible lie, Grunkle Stan. You can do better.”

There was silence.

“You and Doctor Pines had a fight, didn’t you?” Wendy said.

Mabel gasped. “Whaaaat? I know what you need.”

“Oh no.”

“You need to stand right here and watch the Power of Mabel fix all of your problems! All we need is Grunkle Ford and then we can-”

“Sup, Mister Doctor Pines.” Soos popped out of the kitchen door and Ford nearly jumped out of his skin. “Come on, Mabel has a surprise for you.”

Everything suddenly happened all at once. All he did was blink, and the next thing he knew people were everywhere and everything was bright and colorful and loud. The kitchen wasn’t even recognizable. Mabel had transformed it into a world that could only come from Mabel.

From the ceiling hung a huge glittery banner that displayed the words “Happy Welcome Home Grunkle Ford Party!!!!” With hearts and sparkles and cats and pigs and smiley faces and rainbows covering every inch of the banner.

Everything else in the kitchen was a blur of disorienting color and flashing lights that hurt Ford’s eyes.

How did Mabel get a real rainbow in the kitchen? Was it raining glitter? Were those dancing flowers in the window? Why did she own a disco ball and equipment for a lasershow?

What was he supposed to do?

“Gaze upon the unrestrained Power of Mabel! We are going to celebrate so hard that you will forget all of your fears! Your personal space bubble will crumble to the ground and all you will know is joy!”

Maybe the reason this brightly colored cub was still alive was because, rather than attracting predators as he’d initially assumed, she scared them off instead.

“Who knows how long it’s been since you had chocolate. You poor thing, you must be starving. Here's a chocolate eating contest station where you will have the honor of being the first contestant against our reigning champion, Waddles.”

Ford was suddenly feeling very dizzy. His eyes hurt and his vision wasn’t focusing and he had no idea what he was looking at or how it all worked and that terrified him. Safety was consistency and secure shelter and unassuming behavior that did not draw attention. His knees shook as he resisted the instinct to run. Nothing about this was safe and his heart kept on pounding and he tried to follow his breathing exercises.

“We are going to teach you all the newest, coolest songs and dances so you can strut your stuff to all the people in town! On a brightly lit stage! Where everyone can watch you! They are going to love you. And we can listen to all your detailed and awesome stories from your time in other dimensions. You're like a space cowboy, except you're also a nerd like Dipper!”

Laser beams blinded his eyes and It was all too much too fast. Too much light, too much noise, he wasn’t safe. Ford’s head pounded and his chest felt tight again. He couldn’t remember which way was up or down. All he knew was that he didn’t understand his surroundings and he had to run except he couldn’t because he had to stay and prove he could protect and nurture and provide for the cubs and how was he supposed to do that if he couldn’t stand in the same room with them?

“And speaking of Dipper, here we have Dipper and Soos who can tell you all about the technology of today, from cell phones to computers to microscopes to tvs to microchips to software to video games to-”

Dipper interrupted and said, “I think he gets it, Mabel”

“And we can play games together! Grunkle Stan is a master at poker even when he’s not cheating. Dipper finally has someone who likes chess to play with now. Or we can call Candy and Granda over and we can play Dreamhouse Beach Boyz. I can’t wait for you to meet my best friends! Oh, I have an idea. A cupcake decorating contest! We can decorate cupcakes with pictures of things we love while we talk and get to know each other and share deeply personal secrets about ourselves!”

Stan folded his arms and looked away.

Ford’s vision blurred as his hearing faded into a dull white noise.

“And tomorrow we can have a Teach Us Everything About Gravity Falls Day. You can teach us everything you know about Gravity Falls and Dipper can show you everything we learned about Gravity Falls this summer! We have so much to show you and you are going to love it! Everything from the cutest little mind-controlling mushrooms to the giant bloodthirsty Summerween monster that tried to eat us! Never say I never did anything for you, Dip-Dop.”

Ford couldn’t quite hear what the cub was saying. It took so much effort to keep his feet planted on the ground. Do not antagonize Stan. He met Stan’s gaze and Ford hunched over, ashamed and scared. Breathing was really difficult.

“We are going to spend all day bonding!”

Too much too much too much.He had to stay calm and breathe prove he could protect the cubs breathe Stan’s watching me, everyone's watching me eyes everywhere looking at me eyes watching and waiting not safe run hide hide hide don’t fight the pack the pack that hates me I can’t do this I can’t.

Wendy watched in concern as Ford curled in on himself and began to hyperventilate, eyes darting everywhere but not focusing on anything. "Uh guys, I think we should-"

Mabel grabbed the confetti cannon.

Dipper reached toward his twin. “No wait don’t-”

Mabel screamed at the top of her lungs and Ford flinched. “I AM BLINDED BY ADRENALINE AND NOTHING CAN STOP ME NOW!”

Mabel pulled the trigger and confetti shot toward Ford with a bang!

DANGER!

Ford jumped out the nearest window and bolted into the woods as fast as he could.

Mabel stared at the window for a moment, and then turned to Grunkle Stan.

Stan’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. Maybe we should-”

“The day’s not over yet! We can still turn this around!” Mabel jumped through the broken window and ran into the woods after Ford. “You cannot run from family time! There is no escape!”

The Pines family and employees spent hours searching the woods but they never found Ford. They had to head back to the Mystery Shack when it started getting dark outside, and even Mabel was starting to feel a bit discouraged.

Soos and Wendy trudged back to their own homes, leaving an exhausted Stan to figure out what to eat for dinner while Mabel and Dipper slowly cleaned up the kitchen.

Mabel’s eyes were glued to the floor as she took down the banner she worked so hard on. “I made a mistake,” She said.

All Dipper could do was be there with hugs and reassuring shoulder pats.

Nobody had any idea where Ford was or when he’d be back. Stan didn’t know what he felt about that (he did, he just refused to admit it.) He decided to ignore his feelings and focus on making spaghetti instead.

Then Ford dramatically burst through the door holding a strange smelly blob in his hand. He walked into the kitchen like nothing was wrong and they hadn’t spent hours worrying about him, and held up the smoking creature-a dead cycloptopus-as if he was presenting it to them. “I caught our dinner!” Ford beamed.

Stan stared at Ford’s beaming grin and a wave of anger traveled through him. Ford was acting like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t given Stan a heart attack when he left again and nobody knew if he was okay or if he’d ever come back again. Like 30 years of giving everything for his brother to come back wasn’t enough and he’d just leave like Stan never mattered to him again.

“Grunkle Ford, you’re okay! You-what, what is that smell?” Dipper gagged.

Stan agreed with that sentiment. “Get that thing out of here! That’s disgusting. Ugh, it smells like if death could barf. What were you thinking?”

Ford’ beaming expression fell.

“Well I think it’s sweet,” Mabel declared. “We can make sushi.”

Stan put a quick stop to that. “We are not eating that thing. The smell aside, I am not eating some weird monster. I don’t know what that thing is or where it’s been.”

Ford looked down, away from Stan, and slightly tilted his head to the side in submission. Not that anyone in that room knew what it meant. “I-I’m sorry.” Ford quietly said before leaving the room.

Ford put the dead cycloptopus in a jar and stashed it in his room to eat later. He locked the door and curled up in his nest under the couch. I am a failure.

There was a knock on the door after a while.

“Dinnertime, Poindexter. Move it or lose it.”

Ford reluctantly crawled out of his nest and followed his pack brother that hated him to the kitchen table, where the cubs were sitting with their food and a plate of spaghetti was waiting for him.

He sat at the empty chair and, after watching the pack for a moment, remembered what silverware was and how to use it. Sort of. Forks were very bad at picking up these long noodles. Hands were much more effective, but he had to show he could assimilate into the pack somehow.

Ford couldn’t look anyone in the eye. Maybe if he wasn’t such a stupid animal, he would know what to say or do to fix this.

Dinner was an awkward and tense affair.

Eventually, Mabel broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Grunkle Ford. I thought that-I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to make everyone happy and I thought you would like it but I only scared you. I was silly and so caught up in what I wanted to happen that I forgot to think about what you might have wanted. I promise I’ll do better.”

Ford shook his head. “No. I am sorry. I should be b-better. You are loud and bright and scary. No enemy can predict you. You are… you are strong and good and amazing. I am not brave enough for you. I will try harder. I a-apologize for running away.”

Dipper and Stan stared at him. “Rightttt…just gonna write something down real quick.” Dipper scribbled something onto a piece of paper he pulled out from his jacket and tucked it away.

“Weirdest apology ever,” Stan coughed into his fist.

Dipper reached out to put a hand on Ford’s arm, and Ford flinched away at the touch. Dipper pulled away. “Whoops, forgot for a second.” He cleared his throat. “Grunkle Ford, you don’t have to apologize. It’s okay to be scared.”

Ford didn’t know how to respond to that. How was this cub descended from Filbrick Pines?

“Yeah yeah,” Stan said. “Mushy Feelings Time is over. Everyone’s sorry for stupid reasons, I get it. Now finish your food or I’m giving it to the pig.” Stan kept his eyes fixed on the spaghetti in front of him and said nothing else.

Mabel started, “Um, you know, if you’re feeling up to it maybe we could show you Dipper’s laptop. Technology has come so far ever since you fell into the portal.”

Dipper brightened. “Yeah, I bet you’ll love it!” He raced upstairs and came back holding a flat piece of metal and plastic. “This is what computers look like now, and they can do so much more than they could in 1982.” He opened the laptop and held it out toward Ford.

Ford stared at the device with wide eyes. It resembled a sleeker and futuristic version of Fiddleford’s computer thingamajig prototype, the device that Ford always thought was a waste of time. His old friend must have finished his work on personal computers after he left their project. Judging by the cubs’ opinions of the laptop, Fiddleford must have perfected his device and found the success and fame he deserved. Ford was so happy for his old friend.

“Your mind is gonna be blown,” Mabel declared.

After a brief moment of panic where Ford wondered if his head really would explode before deciding it was probably an expression meant to represent some positive feeling, Ford decided that even though he was still scared, he might be able to handle it if all he had to do was sit in a secure room and listen to the cubs talk.

Ford’s pleading eyes turned to Stan.

His brother threw his hands in the air and gave a resigned sigh. “If you kids wanna hang out with my brother, then I won’t get in your way.”

Maybe they would be okay. Maybe he could do this after all.

Chapter Text

The morning began as most mornings did; with the smell of stancakes and the sound of Mabel’s screams.

Ford crashed through his bedroom door and raced to the source of the screaming with bared teeth and gun in hand. He ran into the living room and crouched down, ready to destroy whatever was hurting his cubs.

His growling cut off. He didn’t see any threat, only Stan, Soos and Dipper eating breakfast as they watched TV while Mabel ran around in circles. Once again, Ford was left feeling confused and lost.

Stan was slouched over. His teeth were not bared. His fists were not clenched. Stan was relaxed. Everyone was safe. Ford did his best to imitate that relaxed body language despite how Not Relaxed he felt. He had to get used to how loud Mabel was.

Dipper pulled a list from his pocket and wrote something on it before putting it back and eating more cereal. Ford still couldn’t figure out how to interpret the cub’s expressions.

“IT’S HERE! IT’S HERE! IT’S HERE!”

Despite his best efforts, Ford couldn’t help how he automatically looked around for predators and other threats that could’ve been attracted by the noise.

Mabel stopped running and turned to everyone with wide eyes. “Gravity Falls Gossiper accepted my news article on fashion tips for squirrels. My picture is going to be in the newspaper. Check it!”

Ford glanced over Soos’ shoulder at the newspaper the cub held out, and read the front page with the pack. His great niece was not in the newspaper. Instead, it was another cub that reminded him of the rich and entitled Sibling Brothers that lived in Glass Shard Beach when he was a cub himself. Ford let out a quiet growl and decided he did not like this cub.

Mabel was sad and Ford did not know how to fix it. Was it acceptable in this dimension to prove your strength and loyalty by gifting someone the head of one of their enemies?

Dipper proposed they go to a mini golf course, which perked his sister right up, and Ford tucked away the idea for later contemplation.

Stan, Soos and the cubs all jumped up and started chanting the mini golf battle cry, “Victory, honor, destiny, mutton!” Ford wanted to join in on their excitement, but he couldn’t find the words to do so.

“Hey Grunkle Ford,” Dipper said. “The mini golf course is going to be a public area, and no one wants you to get too freaked out by all the people there. So you can stay here if it makes you more comfortable. No one will mind. We’ll be back soon, I promise.”

Was the cub rejecting him or helping him? He didn’t know. He didn’t know and he wanted so desperately to join them and be a functioning part of the pack that could effectively demonstrate love and safety and feel loved and safe in return. He wanted to stop feeling like an imposter.

And then everyone was leaving and piling into Stan’s car and what if something happened and Ford wasn’t there to protect them? What if they never came back and Ford would be all alone? The quiet and empty house pressed in on him and it was just like the portal where everything was silent and desolate and endless and lonely.

But could he handle being surrounded by strangers in open daylight like that? The answer was a firm absolutely not. The mere thought had his heart pounding (he might have a heart attack with what his heart’s been through the last few days.) And what if Dipper really had rejected him, and his presence ruined things for the pack again?

But what if a threat found them and hurt them and he wasn’t there?

The sound of the car doors opening pulled him out of the mental tug-of-war and out the door. Ford snuck up behind everyone and picked the lock on the trunk door as the car doors slammed shut, the excited battle cries covering up the sound of the trunk popping open and clicking shut.

Ford hid in the trunk and waited until the car engine shut off. Once he was certain the pack was gone, he peeked out of the trunk before sprinting across the parking lot and sneaking past the mini golf course entrance before anyone spotted him. Now he just needed to find a safe vantage point.

Unfortunately, there were very few places to hide in a mini golf course. For lack of better options, he darted from shadow to shadow when people had their backs turned and tucked himself away on the roof of the castle, hidden behind the battlements.

From there he watched over his (not his) pack as they played mini golf. For a while, all was peaceful. Both of the cubs had a lot of talent, but Mabel was by far the best. She got a hole in one at most of the time, and a crowd slowly gathered around her to watch. Ford didn’t like that so he kept a close eye on the crowd, but nobody tried anything.

Then he found his nose unexpectedly assaulted by the overwhelming smell of spray paint, axe body spray, and sweat that reeked of hormones and low self-esteem. Ford’s eyes watered, and the powerful stench was distracting enough that he didn’t realize he was spotted until it was too late.

“Mr. Pines?” Robbie Valentino asked.

Ford hissed and jumped off the castle. He fell right on top of the Dutch windmill display, the windmill breaking his fall as it crumbled apart underneath him.

The crash grabbed everyone’s attention. Stan turned to see his brother on top of a broken windmill being swarmed by a very angry mob of tiny Dutch golf ball people armed with sharp pencils.

Ford hissed and snarled and fought but it was like fighting a bee swarm. People jumped out of his way as he ran around the entire course trying to shake them off, knocking over more mini golf displays along the way. The miner's display was crushed beneath Ford’s feet, the eiffel tower display was knocked to the ground, the old west display was reduced to splinters. As each one fell, more and more angry golf ball people swarmed Ford and whatever unfortunate person was near him.

Utter chaos consumed the course. People cried out in a panic trying to wrap their heads around the existence of golf people, golf ball pirates swung through the air slashing their swords, golf ball cowboys shot their tiny guns at people, golf ball french men nonsensically yelled at people in french. Ford pulled out his gun and shot wildly at the swarm but there were so many that it barely made a dent. Space laser bullets and pointy pencil projectiles sailed through the air. The public trampled each other as they ran away screaming.

A gas leak from the miner hole was ignited by a stray blaster shot, and the resulting explosion caught the rest of the golf course on fire. Dipper and Mabel ended up saving Pacifica’s life and unknowingly began her redemption arc. Soos helped Ford get rid of the golf people clinging to him by hitting them-and Ford-with a golf club until the tiny golf people ran away.

Needless to say, they were banned from the mini golf course. Ford was so certain that Stan would be angry at him that it took a moment to realize for the first time since he came home, Stan was laughing.

Ford tried his best to connect with the pack in the following days. He always listened to both Dipper and Mabel’s ramblings and did his best to understand them, even though he couldn’t think of how to respond most of the time. He and Soos fixed the golf cart and added modifications to it, all of which were completely necessary and not at all dangerous for the advancement of science and “coolness,” as Soos called it. He patrolled the Mystery Shack at night to make sure the pack was safe. And when the noise and chaos and pressures of uncomfortable social interaction he still couldn’t understand and the paranoid anxiety became too much, sometimes Ford hid on the roof where he could watch over the territory in solitude. Sometimes Wendy ran away from work to join him.

The cubs were loud and unabashed in who they were. What you saw was exactly who they were. Stan…was not.

Ford used to know Stan better than their own mother, but nowadays he couldn’t begin to guess what Stan was thinking or feeling at any given time. Still, Ford tried to show he cared. He gave Stan his leftover food, chased away the critters that rummaged through the trash, and always left the yellow chair in front of the TV empty for him. He even tried to fix some of the Mystery Shack exhibits that broke when the portal reversed gravity, but Stan got very angry and insisted that the Mystery Shack was still his and Ford couldn’t take that from him yet.

He tried to appease Stan in every way he knew how, but Ford couldn’t connect with his own twin, and he still couldn’t figure out what he did wrong to make his pack brother hate him or how to fix it.

Ford had no way of knowing if any of his efforts to build connections were working, or if the entire pack was just tolerating him. Ford was so scared all of the time and communicating was so hard. Trying was exhausting and for every hour he spent with another person, it felt like he needed three more hours alone in a dark safe space to recover. Ford hadn’t built personal connections to another sentient being in 30 years, and he was never good at it before then.

What little he may have known about socializing before he fell into the portal was long forgotten.

Ford had come across hundreds of totally fundamentally different ways of communication and he always left before he could even gain a fleeting grasp of understanding them. He can hardly remember what sad or happy or angry body language and tone looked like anymore.

There had been multiple occasions where the pack got upset because he didn’t react to something the way he was supposed to. Once, he almost made Dipper cry because he failed to adequately display empathy.

Besides, Ford never did much talking in the portal. If anyone knew his language or he knew theirs, it was safer to avoid people anyways. It was safer to be quiet. After 30 years of this, he honestly forgot that he could and should respond to people or communicate with words half the time. Ignoring every survival instinct telling him to avoid the unpredictable lifeforms and break the safe quiet was hard, remembering how to speak was hard, figuring out the right words was hard, and finding the energy to try was so tiring.

Ford shook himself. Excuses would get him nowhere. He had to reintegrate into society, or at the very least refamiliarize himself with the customs and subtle nuances of both verbal and non-verbal communication. He had to prove he would be an asset to the pack and help carry the load by providing resources or assistance when needed. He had to prove he could be an exceptional caretaker that could help the cubs develop both physically and emotionally to give them the best chances at survival and happiness. He had to rebuild his relationship with Stan and show him that he was worth keeping around.

Contribute, provide, protect and nurture. That’s all he had to do.

But how to do that? Fiddleford was always far more skilled at these things than Ford was.

He wondered how Fiddleford was doing.

How does one go about demonstrating brotherly affection?

Ford remembered the feelings of ease and connection associated with Stan during his childhood. He remembered playing and talking and those sorts of things. But he didn’t know how to earn back the right to live like that.

…Perhaps he could try spending time in close proximity to Stan?

Ford walked with purpose toward the kitchen where Stan was making food, and went to stand in the corner where he wouldn’t get in Stan’s way but still be close.

He silently stood there for exactly 16 minutes and 43 seconds, watching Stan cook in an effort to spend quality time with him before walking away.

Stan watched his twin leave. He had no idea what that was and frankly it kind of creeped him out.

The pack and Ford were gathered in front of the TV watching ‘Nearly Almost Dead but Not Quite!’ when Ford tensed up and swiveled his face toward the vent cover on the wall.

Something about the way Ford was tensed up reminded Stan of the jaguar that tried to eat him in Columbia, right before it pounced at him. Stan paused the TV. “What is it, Poindexter?”

Ford didn’t respond, but he tensed like a spring coil and crept closer to the vent, never moving his eyes from the target.

The uneasy silence that fell over the room allowed Stan and the kids to hear it; the sound of breathing coming from the vent. They all looked and saw a shadow behind the vent cover watching them. The shadow moved to escape, and Ford pounced.

He crashed through the vent cover and pulled out Larry King's Wax Head. Ford growled and fought to keep the wax head in his grasp as it squirmed and bit and struggled.

Dipper cheered his Grunkle on. Apparently Larry King’s Wax Head was cursed with life and had been creeping him out all summer.

Stan was left coming to terms with the fact that Larry King’s head had actually been living in his house when he thought that Larry King was just another voice in his head.

Ford woke up just before the crack of dawn to patrol the pack’s territory. It was towards the end of his patrol that he discovered the lightbulb above the kitchen table had burned out. His first reaction was giddy excitement. He could fix this problem for the pack, and even make it better! Here was a chance to prove he could contribute and provide! He could help and make everyone happy!

He rushed to the basement where his old equipment was stored and got to work right away.

When the new lightbulb was finished, Ford climbed upstairs and showed the lightbulb to Soos and the cubs. He couldn’t find Stan, but Soos said he was probably at the store. He screwed in the lightbulb surrounded by most of the pack and when the light flickered on they all smiled and cheered.

Stan walked through the doorway with a box of lightbulbs in his arms, which he immediately threw away. Ford hadn’t smiled so hard in longer than he could remember. He must have impressed his twin so much that he threw away all the lesser light bulbs in favor of the one he made.

“I thought we were out of lightbulbs,” Stan said.

High on happiness and a sense of accomplishment, Ford managed to say, “Yes, so I invented my own. It will last a thousand decaphoebs-I mean years-and the light makes your skin softer.”

The cubs and Soos marveled and he felt so warm inside. Their happiness made him even happier, so much that soft purrs almost escaped from his chest until he took a second look at Stan.

Stan looked tired and messy. He didn’t seem to be reacting with equal enthusiasm as everyone else, or any enthusiasm at all. Once again, Ford was left with no clue what his twin was thinking and trying to figure out what he did wrong this time.

“HAPPY HUG AWAY OUR ISSUES PARTY!” Mable declared.

Stan and Ford looked at each other from across the room.

“Time to hug away our issues! Hug it out! Hug train’s coming into the station! Hugapalooza 2000!”

Stan crossed his arms and stayed right where he was.

Ford looked at Stan, who refused to look back at him. He wondered if he could handle hugging his brother or one of the cubs even with time to prepare for it, considering his severe aversion to touch.

How did he hug someone anyway? The concept was simple but the execution was daunting. Where exactly did he put his hands? How long did the hug last? Where did he put his head? Did he center his body along Stan’s center or slightly to the side? How slowly did he approach and at what point would he raise his arms? Did his arms go over or under Stan's shoulders? Would Stan smell him? Should he shower first?

How did he turn on the shower?

Ford left to go figure out how the shower worked, oblivious to the hurt faces he left behind. Stan and the cubs were gone by the time he came back.

Dipper, Mabel, and Soos stood at the entrance to Gravity Malls, Gravity Falls’ local mall, with one goal in mind; to help Soos get a date for his cousin’s wedding.

He did not understand Soos’ desire to attract a mate. He never understood girls nor did he ever feel the need to date, only the desire to not be alone (which he ignored for most of his life.) But it was important to Soos (and Mabel) so Ford would follow along.

Ford had been warned that the mall would have a lot of strangers in it, and he knew he would hate every second of the experience, but he followed them anyway. Ford followed them because he was so desperate to bond and prove himself that he ignored his only working braincell that knew he couldn’t handle it. He had to show the pack he could follow them anywhere and be whatever they needed.

At the parking lot, Soos shuffled his feet in uncertainty. “Mister Doctor Pines, you’re really smart. Are you sure you don’t have any advice?”

Ford blinked. “Some species in-in some dimensions use many methods. I don’t know what females here are attracted to.” He’d seen species use scent, vocalizations, mating dances, and beautiful displays using scales or feathers or clothing. Other species proved their worth by building nests and dens, providing food, or fighting other competitors. Some beings chose to forego any courting rituals and kidnapped their chosen mates instead. He had no idea which of these methods, or which combination of these methods, was acceptable in this dimension.

Mabel and Dipper stared up at him with wide, understanding eyes. The colorful cub kindly said, “I know this place is scary, Grunkle Ford. If you need to hide or leave, it’s okay. We understand.”

Ford nodded and the doors opened. All it took was a glance at the wide open space filled with strangers and bright lights for Ford to realize how wrong he was to think he could do this.

But Soos and the cubs were right there. So Ford stepped forward with them even though every cell in his body screamed No! It’s not safe!

He tried his best to act normal, but his heart was beating so loudly it was the only thing he could hear. His muscles twitched with the impulse to run and fight. There was nowhere to duck for cover in this wide open space full of strangers and dangers. He was too exposed and nothing about his home dimension felt like home anymore.

He followed the cubs without registering where they were going. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for exits and threats. He could swear that everyone was watching him, waiting to hurt him. Every individual was an unknown, a possible threat, and there was nowhere for him to hide.

This place is not safe. Ford took a deep breath and realized he’d backed up against the nearest wall at some point. He bared his teeth and hissed at every passerby that got to close, trying and failing to swallow the sounds down because he knew they weren’t normal.

His hand drifted to his gun as he looked back and forth for Soos and the cubs. He couldn’t find them. Ford lost them and he was ruining the pack's day again. He couldn’t do this one thing with them. What a useless cowardly fool he was.

Ford was suffocating. He was alone. He was in danger and everyone here wanted to hurt him.

Ford couldn’t take it anymore and was running before he could stop himself. He had no idea where he was or where he was going. All he knew was that he needed to be safe and to do that he needed to get out.

Ford ran without direction, letting the world blur past him. He ran on and on until he dove behind a fence somewhere and found himself navigating through piles of trash and broken down machinery.

This is good, he told himself. This is safe. Lots of places to hide. The smell will mask my scent from predators.

His legs still kept running. He ran until a skinny person with white facial hair and a big hat wandered in front of him. The two collided onto the ground in a tangle of limbs and both of them jumped up, startled.

The skinny man dropped on all fours and hissed like a feral possum.

Ford immediately dropped on all fours and hissed right back.

Then they stopped. They looked at each other, and when neither of them attacked, sniffed each other.

Ford shakily stood up. He knew that smell, but how could…

He double checked the scent and scrutinized the man in front of him. He would recognize that nose anywhere. “...Fiddleford?”

The man (he can’t be Fiddleford please don’t let this be-) got up on two legs and a big welcoming toothless smile overtook his face. “I don’ know no Fiddleford fella. Name’s Old Man McGucket. Howdy do stranger?” He spit on his hand and offered a handshake to Ford.

This wasn’t right. Fiddleford was supposed to have gone home to his family and finished his work on personal computers. He was supposed to be with his wife and son, successful and happy and healthy. The man in front of him didn’t know his first name or who Ford was and lived all alone in a dumpster. He was emaciated and his posture was horrible. He was covered in dirt and dressed in rags. There was a bandage in his dirty beard. He didn’t even have shoes. And those vacant, unfocused eyes held little intelligence and no hint of recognition in them.

How did this happen?

Unbothered by the lack of response from the man falling apart in front of him, Fiddleford pulled his hand back. He didn’t even seem to register Ford’s silence and kept on smiling with those empty eyes.

“I ain’t had visitors in awhile! Come, come. I got some leftover rat stew from last night if yer hungry. Ya want me ta build ya a giant killer robot doodad for suspicious reasons?”

It was such a Fiddleford thing to do, southern gentleman he was, that Ford found himself distractedly nodding and following his old friend to a little tin roof hut in the middle of the town dump. It was made of junk and filled with junk. There were no family photos or mementos, nor any indication that Fiddleford had any family or friends. It was small and dirty and a far cry from how Fiddleford preferred to keep his living space 30 years ago. In looking around, it was clear that a hobo lived here, and not a mentally stable one either.

And why was he wearing that giant hat? What happened to Fiddleford’s glorious full head of hair?

This was how Fiddleford lived? “Do…do you remember me?”

“Nope!”

“Do you remember your name?”

“I’m Old Man McGucket!” Fiddleford started dancing around the inside of his hut with some musical spoons singing, “McGucket, McGucket, McGucket!”

“Do you remember anything?” Ford’s voice cracked.

“I know my son, Tate, don' like me too much. An’ I can put t’gether biomechanical brainwave generators faster than them bees can buzz.”

Ford crumbled apart inside. Fiddleford had the most incredible mind and the biggest heart Ford had ever seen, far greater than his own. Fiddleford deserved the world, not this…this…

“I put t’gether giant robots too. A whole bunch’a them. Like the time I hootenannied up a homicidal pterodactytron after my wife left me, and a 50 ton aquatic robot hopin’ it might git Tate’s attention. I’d show ya my death ray but I had ta dismantle it on acoun’ a anyone that gits within’ 50 feet of it woulda SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUSTED! HAHAHAHAHA!”

This was all Ford’s fault. He pulled his old friend away from his life in Palo Alto. He didn’t listen to his friend’s warnings. He pushed Fiddleford into his research on anomalies with no regard to Fiddleford’s feelings on the matter. Ford destroyed his best friend's life.

Ford was a monster. Fiddleford should never have met him. Stan should have never been born with him as his twin. All he did was make stupid mistakes and hurt everyone around him.

“Let me show ya the hillbilly that lives in my tub.” Fiddleford guided Ford to an old washtub where his old friend pointed to his own reflection in the metal and shouted, “Quite starin’ at me when I bathe ya salt-lickin’ horn-swagglin’ hog-washin’ donkey brain!”

To be fair to Dipper and Mabel, when they turned around and realized their Grunkle Ford wasn’t with them, they assumed he got overwhelmed and went home to Grunkle Stan. The twins were a bit preoccupied with convincing Soos to meet real girls instead of playing Romance Academy all day, then they were helping Soos prepare for his first date ever and surviving the Uprising of Giffany. Besides, even when Grunkle Ford wandered off into the woods, he always came back home by the end of the day. It was not their fault.

To be fair to Stan, he thought Ford was with the kids. There was no reason Ford would come to him. Ford obviously hated and wanted nothing to do with Stan. And besides, he was a bit preoccupied with stealing and then fighting an animatronic badger. And then he was busy getting married to a coin machine. It was not his fault.

Nevertheless, all three of them felt terrible when they realized Ford had been missing for 48 hours.

They searched the entire Shack, including the basement. (Dipper found a lump of fabrics and bedding under Ford’s couch and decided to worry about it later. He wrote down what he saw, and moved on.) They called his name into the woods and scanned the trees for Ford. After finding nothing, they started searching the town. They thought he might be hiding in alleys or underneath someone’s porch, or any one of millions of hiding spots Ford could find.

They must have searched half of Gravity Falls when the three of them passed by the town dump. Dipper stopped and suggested they ask Old Man McGucket. Tired, sore, and without any better ideas, Stan agreed on the condition that Dipper do all the talking with McGucket.

The three Pines’ walked into the dump and headed towards the sound of banjo music. “Old Man McGucket!” Dipper called. “We have a question for you!”

The banjo music stopped and the hobo popped out of a pile of broken down cars. “Visitors! Welcome! Have I ever told ya’ll ‘bout how I met my raccoon wife?”

“Numerous times,” Stan deadpanned.

“McGucket,” Dipper started. “We’re looking for a skittish man who looks like Grunkle Stan, except he’s wearing a tan trench coat. Have you seen someone like that?”

With his trademark wide empty stare, Old Man McGucket smiled. “Sure have! We shared rat stew and had a real interestin’ talk. Then he said he’d live here in the trash where he belongs as recompense. We’re havin’ a hootenanny soon!”

Could the search finally be over? Stan thought, shoving the mental image of his brother eating rat stew in the dump out of his mind.

The hillbilly led them to his hut where they found Ford just outside of McGucket’s home.

Yes! Yes! The search is over! We can go home! Aaaand…Ford is fighting a raccoon over the same piece of meat.

Stan grimaced as he watched his brother tear the meat out of the raccoon's mouth and hold it close, hissing until the raccoon ran away. “Hey Ford, uh…ya okay?”

Ford startled when he noticed Stan and the kids standing there and tucked away the meat into his trench coat. He hunched over and tilted his head to the side, looking away from them and making himself look small.

All of them were very concerned.

Dipper tried to wave him over. “Let’s go home, Grunkle Ford. We’ll get you cleaned up and put some real food in you, how about that?”

Ford didn’t move.

Stan stepped closer, ready to drag his brother home himself. “Come on. You can’t stay with the crazy hobo that sleeps in the dump. Who knows where he’s been-no offense.”

“None taken.” Old Man McGucket cheerily replied.

Dipper approached Ford too. “We’re sorry that we lost you, but I promise that it’ll never happen again. Please come home. We’re all worried about you.”

Stan opened his mouth without thinking, as he often did. “Speak for yourself, kiddo.” He immediately regretted those words. Looking at how Ford was acting, Stan truly didn’t mean them. It was just a habit to be calloused, and as angry as Stan was at himself (he told himself he was mad at Ford instead) he didn’t want Ford to be like…like this.

Ford inched away from Stan.

“Poindexter, I have searched every inch of half of this stupid hick town looking for you, and we are going back to the Mystery Shack even if I have to carry you there. Now get moving.” Stan was too tired and worried to care that he was raising his voice.

When Ford still didn’t move, the kids went to grab the edges of his trench coat with the hope that touching the fabric wouldn’t freak their Grunkle out. Ford jumped away at the touch and the twins tried again, going slow and gentle as Ford watched their movements like a hawk. They gave a small tug and Ford followed, so so afraid of hurting the cubs by refusing to move.

“No,” Ford protested as he was led away. “You don’t un-understand. It’s my fault. It’s my fault.”

Ford turned to look at Fiddleford with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Fiddleford. I’m sorry I’m sorry I-”

And then something happened. Something that Stan and the kids didn’t understand. For the first time in nearly 30 years, Fiddleford had a single beautiful moment of Higher Thought and Feeling Present.

The southern man’s gaze cleared up and focused on Ford. His expression became soft, intelligent and kind just like it was before everything went wrong. It was how Ford remembered him. Ford heaved a wet gasp and thought, ‘My Fiddleford that’s my Fiddleford.’

Fiddleford said, “Ya seem like a real nice fella, nicer than most others, and ya seem ta care a whole lot more ‘bout me than anyone in this ‘ere town can say. I don’ know how I got here, but whatever in tarnation happened I have a feelin’ that I did it to myself. Whatever happened to me is ‘cause of my own choices, an’ that’s not on you. Ya hear me?”

The moment ended as quickly as it came. A vacant look returned to Old Man McGucket’s eyes and he waved goodbye to the Pines Family.

Ford was too emotionally exhausted to resist as Dipper and Mabel led him back to the Mystery Shack. No one commented on the tears streaming down Ford’s face. No one knew what to say.

Ford opened his eyes in his mindscape, something he hadn’t done in a long time. In fact, it was something he often outright avoided because it always reminded him of…

Ford crouched down in the field of wheat and surveyed the area. He hadn’t seen Bill in 30 years, so why would he unintentionally wake up in his mindscape? Either his mental faculties were slipping or something else brought him here.

I’m being watched.

He could feel it. Eyes watching him. Hunting him. There was danger and he had to run run run!

Any urge to stand and fight was smothered by an all-encompassing fear that if he saw the Eyes then it would be the end. Ford bolted and the sound of rustling wheat was gaining on him he was going to die and all he could do was keep running.

The something that pulled him into the mindscape also pulled down some of his surface memories. All the insecurities he struggled with every day echoed around him. They only got louder when he put his hands over his ears.

Your pack brother hates you.

Tried to shoot Soos and Wendy. Ran away from Dipper and Mabel. Ruined Fiddleford’s life.

Can’t do anything right. Can’t make the pack happy.

Failure. Paranoid delusional failure. Fool. Can’t be trusted.

What intellect, you’re nothing but a stupid animal.

Afraid of your own shadow. Inhuman. Monster.

Always alone. You deserve to always be alone

Stupid animal. Killer. Dangerous. Hurt everyone you touch. Unworthy of love.

You can’t keep them safe. You will never be enough.

Ford stumbled and crashed to the ground. A laughter that chilled him to the bones filled the air and the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. He didn’t even try to reach for his gun. He knew it wouldn’t work.

The laughter grew as a yellow shape blanketed the gray sky until the whole mindscape was consumed by a sickening yellow. The Eye locked onto his eyes and he felt pinned to the ground, unable to move or to even scream.

The world flashed an angry red and a voice he wished he could forget shouted across his mindscape loud enough to think his eardrums were rupturing and every cell in his body was about to fall apart-

FOUND YOU!!!

Ford opened his eyes and scrambled out of his nest beneath the couch. Only one thought was in his head.

Bill is coming. I have to keep my pack safe and stop him.

Chapter Text

“Alright, I think we all know why we’re here at the library,” Dipper began. “We’re here because of something that we can no longer deny.” He shot a pointed look at his great uncle. “We cannot ignore it, and cannot leave it to fix itself. Grunkle Ford is messed up in the head and we all need to figure out how to help him.”

Mabel and Stan stood in the library with him, hidden among the shelves stuffed with a surprising variety and quantity of books for a small town in the middle of nowhere.

“The Power of Mabel will prevail no matter what it takes!” Mabel declared.

Stan side-eyed the self help section filled with books such as, ‘So Your Dad Was A Dirtbag,’ ‘Repairing Family Bonds,’ ‘Your Denial About Your Denial Issues,’ and ‘Why Am I Afraid of My Inner Lovebug?’

He resolutely turned away from them. No way he would be seen getting those mushy books. He’d rather break in and steal them under the cover of night when there are no witnesses than be seen with them. It would be really easy too. The library had no cameras and the locks were fairly easy to pick. If he smashed the computers then it would take time before anyone looked at the records and noticed which books were missing…

“Remind me why I’m here again?” Stan asked. He could have easily avoided this whole thing with the kids. The Northwest Construction Company finally started repairs on the Mystery Shack that morning and Stan could be there right now, yelling at the workers about going faster and not breaking his things, but he left Soos to look after the Shack and came here instead.

Dipper answered without looking up from the notepad he pulled out of his pocket. “Because you love Grunkle Ford. You literally risked the fate of the world to get him back home, but after that fight you two had you’re afraid of being hurt more than you already are and so you’re covering up all your feelings with anger because it’s easier to be angry than to deal with all your other emotions. Also because your parents never taught you how to deal with your feelings and instead raised you in a society where men were expected to avoid being emotionally vulnerable.” He deadpanned.

Stan chose not to dignify that with a response.

Mabel bounced up and down excitedly. “There’s still hope. I can still get you two to hug it out, I just have to get all your feelings inside of you to come outside of you.”

Dipper held out his notepad to his family. On it was a very, very, very long list of things Ford had done, what triggered the behavior, as well as where and when it happened. “As you can see here, I have been keeping a detailed account of every instance of unusual behavior from Grunkle Ford since he came here. Now all we have to do is cross reference these symptoms until we find a perfect match to find out what this is and how to fix it. It could be anything. A mental illness, medical condition, even some kind of curse or spell or interdimensional sickness.”

“Don’t you worry, bro-bro. With Grunkle Stan’s old man wisdom, your brains and my laser focus, there is literally nothing that can distract us from-”

The sound of piano music and gentle singing danced across the library. Their heads turned to see a boy putting on a puppet show on the other side of the room, and Mabel was quickly entranced by the prettiest 12 year old with a ponytail she had ever seen.

Stan gave the puppet show boy an unimpressed look and raised an eyebrow at Mabel’s sparkly heart eyes.

Mabel whispered, “Just when I was getting over Mermando, you showed up. Who are you, beautiful stranger?”

“That’s Puppet-Crazy Gabe. I hear he makes out with his own hand puppets.”

Gabe’s bee puppet said, “Now I finally understand what all the buzz is about; reading.”

Gabe’s book puppet said, “Give me some of that honey, sugar.”

The puppets started french kissing in front of a group of toddlers while Gabe joyously laughed.

The light died in Mabel’s eyes. “Oh…and now I’m over him.”

Gabe was suddenly a lot less cute, but something about the show intrigued her. Something crafty that made her brain latch onto an idea that would no doubt be brilliant as soon as she figured out what it was.

Stan shook her shoulder but she did not notice. An idea formed in her thinking organ as she watched the rest of the puppet show. The show with puppets. The show that used puppets to tell a story that wasn’t about puppets…

Stan shrugged at his grand niece’s whims and went to help Dipper, who was pulling out stacks of books and opening them up to compare them to his list. “Hand over that notepad. Let me see what we’re looking for.”

He scanned through the list and what he saw…it disturbed him. Stan hadn’t noticed most of these things, or thought they weren’t any big deal. Besides, Ford had never acted what others would consider “normal” and in the past he just rolled with what his brother did most of the time. Stan had been so wrapped up in his own world of hurt and anger that he completely missed how big this was and now it had gotten so bad that Ford had…

Stan couldn’t look away from the words on the papers as he said, “Hey Dipper, you added what he’s been doing ever since we found him in the dump, right?”

“Of course.”

Stan nodded and thought about the last few days with a new perspective. Now that he thought about it, if Ford had been acting like a trigger-happy and confused weirdo that forgot how to act like a human before, now he was acting like a terrified feral alley cat that had been abused by people its whole life and viewed everything as a threat.

The Pines family had barely seen Ford ever since they found him with Old Man McGucket. He stopped eating meals and spending time with them. At any given moment, Ford was either in the basement working on some project he refused to talk about (he actually hasn’t spoken at all) with a manic energy or was hiding who knows where. Sometimes they would see him watching them from a distance, but he ran off once they noticed him. It was almost like he woke up one morning scared of everyone and everything.

His twin may want nothing to do with him, but could he really leave Ford like this when he left (was kicked out) after the end of summer?

“How do you think he’s doing with the construction workers crawling all over the Mystery Shack?” Dipper asked.

“Kid, I don’t even know if he’s there right now. I checked the basement and the whole house before we left and he was gone again.” Stan sighed and hoped he didn’t come back home to his brother trying to kill the construction workers, but he made sure Soos was at the Mystery Shack not only to watch the house and yell at people in Stan’s place, but to be there for damage control if Ford came back home before the construction workers left.

Stan opened up a book and started searching.

There had been two thoughts dominating Ford’s mind ever since Bill visited him in his sleep.

Protect the pack from Bill

Ford raced through the woods until he made it to the enchanted forest. He recited the deep voiced chant that would summon the unicorn glen and scurried to the walls surrounding the glen. After a long moment of listening for any signs of danger, he silently crept to the side of the wall that didn’t have an ornate golden door and climbed up using the hanging vines and flowers covering the stone walls. The skittish man climbed over the wall without a sound and took shelter in the closest tree, hidden among the thick leaves.

Protect the pack from myself

Eyes locked onto the target. Every muscle tensed and ready to strike if needed. Slowly, carefully so as to not draw the attention of his prey, he took his gun in hand, set it to stun, and waited for the perfect opportunity. After a long, tense moment, sure that his prey was alone and caught unawares, Ford aimed at the unicorn and shot it.

Protect the pack from Bill

Ford warily crept towards the unicorn's unconscious body, making absolutely sure it was knocked out and he wouldn’t be surprised by a kick to the face when he got too close. He took out one of his pocket knives and chopped some unicorn hair off, then ran off into the forest as fast as possible. There was still work to be done.

Protect the pack from myself

His first thought was to build a magical barrier around the pack's territory to keep Bill out, but then he realized that was only a temporary solution, just like sealing the Rift with alien adhesive would’ve been. The pack couldn’t stay within the bubble forever, and Bill would get them sooner or later. The only way to keep everyone safe from Bill was to murder him before he had the opportunity to hurt the pack. No, Ford would not use the unicorn hair to Bill-proof the Mystery Shack. Ford had a better idea. One with much more permanent results.

Protect the pack from Bill

Ford had realized that he could never be accepted into the pack no matter how hard he tried, and he had tried so hard to prove himself. But all he ever did was hurt everyone he cared about. Stan hated him and why wouldn’t he? Ford was the reason his twin was kicked out, homeless, and wasted 30 years of his life on fixing that stupid portal. Ford always ran away from the cubs no matter how hard he tried not to, and even he knew that it upset them. Ford was the one who dragged Fiddleford into his research and now he was like that. Ford could never be what they needed him to be, but he could at least do this for them. He could keep them safe, even if it was only from a distance. It was better for everyone that way.

Everyone except him. Ford couldn’t go back to the way it was before, when there was no one and he was alone and everything was empty and the only thing that mattered was surviving the next hour because there was nothing else except fear and adrenaline and self-preservation. It was terrifying and lonely and the thought of going back to that made his hands start to shake and tears well up in his eyes.

But he was alone anyway, because the pack hated him and didn’t need him. He was sure of it. Everywhere he went he only ruined things for the people he loved. Ford wouldn’t bother his pack brother or the cubs anymore after this.

Protect the pack from myself

Ford was not fit for a pack. He was not fit for anyone. In the last 30 years, Ford had become a dangerous, stupid creature that would never belong anywhere. Maybe he never did to begin with. All his life, Ford failed everyone he loved and now he realized the best way to protect the pack, contribute to their well-being, and nurture the cubs to give them the best chances of success, was to not be there to mess things up.

Protect the pack from Bill

Ford will destroy the triangular monster that threatened his pack. He had no idea what he was supposed to do after that, but he did know that Stan, Dipper, Mabel, Soos, Wendy and Fiddleford would never have to be burdened with his problems again.

Ford strengthened his resolve, gripped the unicorn hair tighter and kept running at his top speed.

Protect the pack from myself

Mabel sat beside Waddles in the living room surrounded by socks and craft supplies that covered every inch of the floor. Dipper was trying to help but spent more time wrestling with the socks and glue than anything else, because Dipper was terrible at crafts. Soos was painting the cardboard that would serve as the background, and Wendy was using a hair dryer to dry the glue on the socks faster.

Mabel brainstormed ideas as she worked and eventually decided on a name for her puppet show, which she decided was the perfect way to address Grunkle Ford and Stan’s issues, to her twin brother's bafflement. “Alright, the play is going to be called Family Glove Story: A Sock Opera! Just a warning, people’s eyes will get wet! Because they’ll be crying. From laughing! From how tragic it is.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” Dipper replied in a tone that suggested it was not great at all before coughing up colorful balls of lint.

Wendy looked at him with her easy going smile. “Come on, Dipper. You gotta roll with Mabel’s craziness. It’s what makes life worth living.”

Mabel broke out into song. “Puppet Stan, Puppet Ford, you’re the ones I looove!”

Mabel opened her eyes and saw Grunkle Ford standing in the doorway, looking very confused at what he was seeing. Like a startled owl.

“Grunkle Ford!”

The old man backed away. Every muscle tense and prepared to run.

Mabel ran up to her great uncle and cornered him against the walls. “Grunkle Ford, I’ve been trying to talk to you for days! I’ve been trying to tell you that I’m putting together a big puppet show! And it’s going to be presented tomorrow at the theater. The whole town’s gonna be there! But the two people I want to be there the most are Grunkle Stan and you. You can sit in the back of the theater where it’s dark and quiet, and no one will be looking at the back of your head trying to see the stage. But I really, really want you to come.”

Grunkle Ford avoided eye contact with her and curled in on himself, doing that head-tilt that made him look smaller, the same one he’d done in the dumpster and the one he did around Grunkle Stan sometimes. Nobody knew what it meant.

Mabel pushed forward. “We’ll leave tomorrow night at 7:30. You’re going to love it, I promise! I put my heart and soul into this!”

Grunkle Ford let out a small whine and squirmed uncomfortably. “Mabel, I-I-I have an impor-important thing to do. I can’t go.”

Mabel’s brilliant smile shriveled up and died. Tears welled up in her eyes and Ford began to visibly panic. “But I worked so hard on this,” Mabel said in a quavering voice. “And I wrote it for you and Grunkle Stan. Are you sure whatever it is you need to do can’t wait until after the show?”

Ford squirmed and made the mistake of meeting her eyes. “I w-want to but-''

But Mabel stared at him with the biggest, saddest, cutest eyes that ever existed and spoke in a small voice. “It would mean the world to me if you came.“

With a guilty look, Grunkle Ford gripped his trenchcoat where the Rift was hidden, unbeknownst to his grand niece.

“Please.” Mabel begged.

Mabel could see the moment her Grunkle’s fragile resolve broke. He knelt down to her level and gave a soft, genuine smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the end of the world.”

“YES! Thank you thank you thank you! I have to get back to work! You are going to love it so much! I can’t wait for you and Grunkle Stan to see it!” Mabel ran back into the living room and buried herself in the craft supplies.

Ford stumbled back as he tried to process what just happened, and accidentally found himself in the kitchen.

Stan looked up from the towers of books piling the kitchen table as his brother stumbled in with a confused and distraught expression. His twin jumped at the sound of a book closing and stared wide-eyed at the table where Stan was.

Stan felt mildly offended at the look Ford was giving him. “What?! I read sometimes.”

He hoped that Ford wouldn’t notice what kinds of books littered the table. There were the books Dipper gave him to research whatever was going on with his twin, and the ones that Stan stole for personal reasons. For the first time in his life, once Stan started reading he couldn’t stop until every page was read-or at least skimmed through. Every other page he read felt both freeing and damning at the same time.

Ford did that weird head-tilt and made his way out the kitchen. This alarmed Stan, who hadn’t seen his twin in days and knew he wasn’t okay but nobody could help him if he kept running away you idiot!

“Wait!” Stan cried out.

Ford froze mid step, hunched over and refusing to meet Stan’s gaze. He looked very afraid.

“Wait,” Stan’s gruff voice said, only softer this time. “I just wanna talk. I’m worried about you, bro. Everyone is.”

A tense moment of silence passed before Ford awkwardly turned back into the kitchen. Stan watched his brother prowl around the perimeter of the room, sniffing the air and looking at everything with suspicion before he slowly sat in a chair. Ford never relaxed into it, ready to sprint away at a moment's notice.

Stan took a deep breath as he sat across from Ford. He remembered that even though he had plenty of things to be angry about, he couldn’t act angry if he wanted anything good to happen. ‘We are not okay,’ Stan thought. ‘And we will never be okay unless we actually talk to each other, probably multiple times.’

“Uhhh…How are you?” ‘I have no idea what I’m doing.’

Maybe Stan should have practiced this ‘Talking It Out’ thing with the pig first.

Ford gave him a blank, uncomprehending look. Stan had to remind himself that his twin wasn’t trying to be annoying. Probably.

Stan filled in the silence as Ford continued to stare at him with one of those indecipherable looks he loved so much nowadays. “I’ve been fine. Could be better, could be worse, you know? I’ve done some reading this week, and it was actually interesting. Which is weird for me, but I know you love to read. I wonder what kind of books you’re reading these days.”

Awkward silence.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, small talk isn’t working. The point of this is that I’ve done a lot of thinking, and I’m worried about you. The kids are worried about you, Soos and Wendy are worried about you, and everyone wants to help but none of us know how. So what can we do to help? What’s going on in your head? Why are you avoiding us? Why do you jump at every little noise? Why don’t you talk anymore, or obsess over nerd stuff, or…”

‘Or act like the brother I remember and missed so much?’ He doesn’t say.

Ford narrowed his eyes. “I don’t need help. I can hunt a-and defend myself just fine.”

That was one of the least weird things Stan has heard his brother say since he came home. “Okay, yes you can. If that’s what you wanna do then go ahead. But out of curiosity, why not get a job and buy food at the store? You could start researching anomalies again, earn some cash by publishing your research, that kind of thing.”

“I can’t.”

“Okay, but why not? Is there something you need help with?”

“I…” A strained expression overtook Ford’s face as he struggled for words. “I can’t.”

Stan let out a frustrated sigh. “Okay, you don’t want to talk about this. Fine.” It was not fine. “What do you want to talk about?”

Ford stared at him for a long moment before finally replying, “One of your security cameras is broken.”

“That’s not important right now-”

“Yes it is.”

Stan couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Seriously, why was Ford being so dense? “Don’t tell me how to run my house. If you’re so bothered by it, then you can fix it when I’m gone.”

His brother gave a short nod and stiffly stood up from his chair before stepping away from the table.

“Hey!” Stan protested. “I’m tryin’ to have a conversation here! You haven’t answered me! You gotta give me something. Anything! At least tell me if you even want my help!”

A small sad whine escaped Ford’s lips as he averted his gaze and walked further away.

Stan hit the table. “Dang it, Ford. I just want to know that you’ll be okay when I leave after the summer.”

Ford abruptly stopped. “Y-y-you’re leaving?”

Stan nodded, and then he was watching his twin kind of…it was almost like a break down. Ford shook his head ‘no’ over and over, faster and faster, eyes squeezing shut. It wasn’t until he tentatively reached out a hand that his brother snapped out of it and started frantically pacing back and forth instead, inspecting every food cabinet and cooking utensil and hiding spot in the kitchen. “I’m confused. What are you doing?”

Ford’s voice trembled. “Why are you leaving? Is there not enough food? Is it too hot? Is the water not clean anymore?” A look of fear took over Ford’s face as he then peered out the window, hand hovering over his gun. “Are you in danger? Are there predators?”

“No, I-what?” Stan raised an eyebrow. “You made it very clear that you want me outta your life and ‘your house,’ even though I’m the one that paid off the mortgage and lived in it for 30 years.”

Ford raced over to Stan and stared him straight in the eyes. “Have you had strange dreams?”

Stan stepped away, but Ford was still staring at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sixer.”

Ford bared his teeth at the nickname and a low warning growl filled the air. “Don’t call me that.”

He’d been trying so hard to stay calm. He really had, and then he wasn’t calm. Something fragile inside Stan snapped under the confusion and pain of rejection, and the conversation Stan was trying to have was thoroughly derailed. Why did he think he could shove his feelings aside for this?

Stan snapped out, “What. I can’t call you that anymore? The nickname that I gave you when we were kids because I loved you? Because I didn’t care about what anyone else thought about you? When I wanted you to be as proud as I was of everything that made you you!” He marched towards Ford with clenched fists and yelled, “I’m trying to reach out and be a good brother, I have done nothing but try for my entire life! If I’m not good enough for you anymore then just say it! Please!”

Ford was backed into a corner, teeth still bared but shaking under the emotional whiplash from the last five minutes. He was so afraid of so many things right now, and among those things was his twin who was looming over him with what was definitely aggressive body language. “Y-Y-You’re…angry.” Ford choked out.

“I am angry Ford! I fought for 30 years to bring back my brother and you won’t even look at me! I am about to lose everything I care about; At the end of the summer, the kids are going back home, you’re taking back your house, kicking me to the curb and shutting down the Mystery Shack. I am about to lose my home, my job, my employees, and my family. You told me this yourself! All I ever wanted was to be your brother, and I don’t understand what I did to make you hate me so much!”

Stan was so busy having an emotional outburst that he missed the dawning realization on his brother's face, and the horror that followed it.

“Why can’t things go back to the way it used to be when we were dumb kids?” Stan’s eyes watered. “All I wanted was to help you, and maybe earn your love back! Just tell me what I’m doing wrong!”

Ford kept shaking under Stan’s looming gaze as he slowly, purposefully released the grip on his gun.

“TELL ME!”

Then Ford grabbed his twin’s shoulders. The touch brought Stan’s thoughts to a screeching halt.

“You did nothing wrong,” Ford started with a note of desperation in his voice. “I do not hate you. You are a good brother, and I am not. I am…deeply sorry I made you think otherwise, and it is not true. I love you so much but I’m…I’m too far gone to help. But I can hunt and defend myself. You don’t have to worry about me. You deserve better than me, and I won’t bother you anymore.”

All the fight drained out of Stan and his posture slackened, eyebrows furrowing together as he processed what Ford was doing.

His twin continued, “You do not have to leave. I am sorry I made you think that. It was not what I was trying to say. Please understand...every dimension had...different ways to communicate. They had their own language and writing and body language and cultures and social expectations and rituals and-and it was all so different, I-I-I was never good at it and I couldn’t-I was all alone. I never understood what-it got me in so much trouble and there was no help-no one understood and…and I tried I really did but it was never safe no one was ever safe I could trust no one-no one-and I couldn’t stop running and nobody was-I can’t-it was so long I forgot-I had no one-no one to talk to or-I can’t-I can’t-I can’t-”

A pair of calloused and gentle hands covered Ford’s, who gripped tighter to his brother's shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay.” Stan’s gravelly voice interrupted. “It’s okay now. You’re okay. Remembering another language can be hard, especially after 30 years. Take a deep breath with me, yeah? …That’s good. Good job, bro. I know you’re havin’ trouble remembering how to communicate and all that junk. That’s okay. We’ll just try again. If you weren’t telling me to get out of your life, what were you trying to tell me instead?”

Ford had not talked for so long in years, yet the soreness in his throat barely registered. He kept a firm grip on his twins shoulders the entire time he spoke. “I wanted to be in charge.”

“Of what?”

“Of keeping the pack safe.” Ford’s eyes snapped back into focus and he pulled his arms away from Stan like he’d been burned. “I need to leave.”

Stan watched Ford scurry away to who-knows-where. He knew this conversation wasn’t what he wanted, and it wasn't the last one he needed to have. The things Ford said raised more questions than answers, but Stan couldn’t help feeling better about himself than he had in a long time.

Ford didn’t hate his guts anymore. A little spark of hope lit up in his chest. Maybe there was hope for the two of them after all.

Chapter Text

Dipper threw his hands into the air and screamed at the books surrounding him.

“Wrong, WRONG, WRONG!”

It was his fourth day with barely any sleep, but he couldn’t rest until he figured out how to help Grunkle Ford. His Grunkle was counting on him to figure it out even if he didn’t know it. If Dipper knew what was wrong, then he could fix it.

If only he could find an exact match, because that’s what science was right? Perfect, accurate data that was exactly right every single time. No room for error whatsoever. And the human psyche was a branch of science, so the same must apply to the brain.

Science was perfect. Perfect data, perfect results, perfect matches, perfect answers. He was 12 years old, so he knew these things.

Dipper rapidly clicked his pen and held back a tired yawn as he pulled out the list of possibilities. So many of them were similar to how his Grunkle acted, but not exact. They were missing symptoms, had the wrong causes, or listed certain behaviors that Grunkle Ford didn’t do. With every word he violently crossed out, he mumbled angrily to himself, “Mabel,” Scratch. “And,” Scratch. “Grunkle,” Scratch. “Stan,” Scratch. “Are,” Scratch. “Useless,” Scratch.

Severe anxiety disorder? Reacting violently and threatening to shoot someone when surprised was not listed as a symptom. Cases of feral children? Only applicable to very young children because they never learned human behavior within a certain time frame in child development. PTSD? It didn’t explain the animalistic sounds or behaviors.

Mabel had gotten distracted by her puppet show idea and Grunkle Stan helped him for only a couple hours before he was distracted by his own books and research, leaving Dipper to slog through a mountain of books and online articles by himself.

Dipper couldn’t hold back the yawn that escaped him. “I have to be missing something,” He muttered under his breath. “If I just knew more about his past then I could-” Black spots appeared in his vision and Dipper closed his tired eyes for a moment. Just a moment. Just…a…moment…

“Well, well, well, well, well, someone’s looking desperate!” A shrill voice filled his head, and Dipper opened his eyes in the dreamscape.

He jumped up and pointed an accusing finger at the glowing yellow triangle in front of him. “It’s you! You’re the triangle that worked with Gideon and tried to destroy my Grunkle’s mind!”

Bill rolled his eye like Dipper was acting crazy. “Yeesh, kid. Relax. It was just a job. No hard feelings.” Bill Cipher floated uncomfortably close to Dipper and his one eye felt like it was staring into Dipper’s soul. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you, and I must say I’m impressed. I think we can help each other.”

“Why would I want anything to do with you? You’re insane!”

“Of course I am. What's your point?”

Dipper tried to think of a clever answer to the question, but he was so tired and it was so hard to think straight. “You’re evil,” he decided to respond.

Bill raised his tiny stick arms as if placating an unreasonable person, but Dipper was perfectly reasonable for your information. “Look, Pinetree. I’m a dream demon. And demon law is all about the art of the deal. I couldn’t care less about Stanley’s head. I didn’t want to go in there to begin with. But Gideon was the one who instigated the deal and I couldn’t leave this realm or get what I wanted until I fulfilled my part of the deal.”

Dipper looked down in thought, completely unaware of the blatant lies Bill was making up about him following any laws of any kind. “I guess that is how it works in movies. So why are you here? What’s your game?” Dipper’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Bill summoned a cane and twirled it back and forth idly. “Believe it or not, I used to know Stanford back in the day. I was one of the creatures he researched. I’d even go so far as to say we were good friends.”

The suspicion faded from Dipper’s eyes.

“Ah, good ol’ Sixer.” Bill’s eye smiled as if remembering something fondly. “It hurts to see him reduced to this, you know?” He gestured to the mess of papers and books scattered around the room.

Dipper blinked as his sluggish brain processed this new information.

It wasn’t fair how sleep deprivation made it hard to think and his stupid emotions swing back and forth. Dipper’s throat tightened and his eyes stung with the urge to cry even though he wasn’t even sad, just tired and frustrated. “I just wanna spend time with someone like me, you know? Someone who likes mysteries and adventures and learning. And I want to know he’s okay because I love him, even though I’ve only known him for a couple of weeks. Grunkle Ford is just so cool. And everyone else wants the same thing for Grunkle Ford too, but he keeps running away from everyone.”

Why was he spewing out these emotions out of nowhere? He wasn’t that tired, was he?

Bill put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “Pinetree, the point is that I have a soft spot for my old pal Fordsy, and I want to help you help Sixer. Unfortunately, demon law says I can’t do anything in this realm until a deal is struck.”

Dipper wiped his eyes before the tears could fall and pulled himself out of this pit of self-pity.

Bill continued, “I know why he is the way he is. I saw how everything happened, and I want to show you everything you need to finally understand your dear old great uncle. I just need something in return so I can give you this information. Demon law demands it.”

“What do you want in return? Are you gonna steal my soul? Rip out my teeth? Replace my eyes with baby heads?”

“Woah, relax. It doesn’t have to be anything that big. Besides knowing I helped out an old friend of mine, I don’t need much.” Bill looked around as if he was contemplating. “I suppose it could be something small, just to fulfill demon law.” He pointed to Mabel’s side of the room. “How about a puppet?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know, man. Mabel worked really hard on those.”

“Well, it seems to me that you have a surplus. And just one little puppet seems like a small price to pay for all the information you need to make your great uncle better again. It doesn’t even have to be a puppet your sister will use in that silly play. What do you say, Pinetree?”

Bill extended a hand covered in blue flames. “Do we have a deal?”

Dipper looked at the books and papers covered in scribbles, and thought about it as hard as his sluggish brain could. “…This seems like an invasion of Grunkle Ford’s privacy.”

“It’ll be just one little thing, kid. One small extra piece of information is all you need to understand what started this whole ordeal. Isn’t that what you want? To understand him?”

After a moment, Dipper turned back to Bill and shook hands. “Deal.”

He was focusing so hard on standing upright despite how his legs ached that he didn’t notice when Bill gripped his hand tighter instead of letting go. “So what puppet are you gonna pick anyway?”

“Let’s see. Eeny, meeny, mynee…YOU!”

Bill pulled his hand and Dipper was ripped out of his body and his dreamscape before he could process what happened.

The first thing Dipper noticed was that he wasn’t tired anymore. Nor did he feel wide awake. Or hungry. Or full. Or breathing. Or much of anything really. The next thing he noticed was that he was hovering in midair and had become see-through. A hand flew to his chest in shock, only for it to pass through his entire body. “What? This can’t be happening! What did you do to my body?!”

Except his body was also across the room, smiling too wide and opening unnatural yellow eyes as it stiffly stood up. Bill’s voice spoke through Dipper’s mouth. “Sorry, not sorry kid. You're my puppet now! HAHAHAHAHA!”

Dipper’s head swiveled back and forth between his glowing transparent hands and his own body with yellow eyes as it clumsily stumbled around the room, acting more like a string puppet than a person. He would definitely be hyperventilating if he could breathe right now because he was a ghost! Was he dead?!?

“Thiscan’tbehappeningthiscan’tbehappeningthiscan’tbehappening.”

“Man, it's been so long since I’ve inhabited a body.” Bill slapped his-Dipper’s-face and whooped in excitement. “Hehehe, pain is hilarious!”

“I-I don’t understand. Why are you doing this? I thought we had a deal!”

“Tricking dumb kids like you is almost as easy as it was to trick Fordsy.” Bill snorted. “Demon law, what a bunch of nonsense.”

Dipper desperately tried to shove away the waves of humiliation and hurt, feeling like the total idiot he was. “What are you doing! I thought you and Grunkle Ford used to be friends!”

“Sixer certainly thought we were. The guy practically worshiped me. He shared his secrets and goals and even let me inhabit his body to help him build that portal. And all I had to do was lie and tell him he was worth something! But one day I say that I’ve been secretly using him to start the apocalypse and suddenly he stops agreeing with everything I say. So naturally I had to torture him until he lost his sanity. It’s a shame I lost track of him in that portal.” Bill went up to a mirror and twisted Dipper’s face into painful and gross expressions for no apparent reason. “No matter! Ol’ Sixer and I can start where we left off; with me making his life a living nightmare until I get what I want! And then I will keep making his life a living nightmare because it would be hilarious!”

That was…a lot to unpack. Until he could sort through this new information, Dipper would just focus on the part that was easy to understand; Bill was evil and wanted to hurt his Grunkle. He charged toward Bill-in-Dipper’s-body, only to fly straight through his body. He shook off the utter wrongness of the sensation and demanded, “Give me back my body and leave Grunkle Ford alone!”

“Hehe. Not gonna happen, Pinetree. You may as well get used to life in the mindscape, because you’ll be there for all of eternity!”

“W-what do you mean?” He tried to keep a brave face and hoped it was working.

Bill admired the two eyes his new body had while he thought about his answer. “Hmm. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to tell you. It’s not like you can do anything about it, and it would be entertaining watching you try to fight the inevitable. Besides, what’s the fun of being insane if you can’t monologue every once in a while?”

Bill’s smile became impossibly wider as he turned away from the mirror to look directly at Dipper.

“Rules are so boring. Physics, reality, morals, they’re all such meaningless limitations. I want to introduce your universe to a better existence where there are no rules and you can do whatever you want and I reign supreme! Anything will be possible! A party that goes on forever with no consequences for anything!”

It was not difficult to imagine why that would be a terrible thing. The world would end very quickly.

“I am so close to getting what I want, and all I need is one little thing your great uncle’s hiding from me. I know he’s planning something to stop me, but I don’t know what. He’s gotten good at hiding from my eyesight while he was in that portal. I need to take what I need to finally open a gateway into this world and remind my old pal Sixer why he should just give up on fighting me. So I am going to take away every reason he has to resist me, and then he’ll have no reason not to give up!”

A horrible idea formed in Dipper’s head. “You don’t mean-”

“HAHA! That’s right, kid! You’re never getting your body back. I am going to use it to destroy Fordsy’s research and dispose of your entire family, starting with your sister and your great uncle Stanley! And with your body, getting close enough to do the job and get that Rift will be easy peasy! Race you to the bottom of the stairs!”

Bill went stiff as a board and threw himself down the stairs, completely careless of the damage such a stiff fall would do to Dipper’s body. Horrible bruises, broken bones, a concussion, who knows what the fall did to Dipper’s body. Dipper was lucky Bill hadn’t accidentally snapped his neck.

Dipper tumbled through the floor and was already looking for Bill before he could reorient himself, thinking of all the horrible things Bill could be doing right this second. He found the demon rifling through the refrigerator in the kitchen.

“Hey, I found human soda. I’m gonna drink it like a person!”

Dipper’s face twisted in disgust as Bill poured soda into his mouth and directly onto his eyes. The dream demon laughed as the sticky liquid streamed down his face. The soda left his eyes burning and watering, already turning a painfully bright red. Bill threw the empty can onto the ground and walked to the drawers as if he felt nothing.

“So, I know where your family is, but where do you keep the journals anyway?” Bill repeatedly slammed his-Dipper’s-arm with a silverware drawer and stabbed it with forks. “Boy, these arms are durable.”

Dipper winced at the sight and, in a fit of desperation, tried to act as brave as he was scared. “I’ve hidden them, and I’ll hide my family from you too. I’ll hide them somewhere you’ll never find in a million years!”

Mabel popped her head into the room. “Hey, Dipper! IborrowedoneofyourjournalasapropfortheshowIhopeyoudon’tmindI’mgoingtoleaveandheadtothetheatrewitheveryoneelsebeforeyouprocessthissentenceokaybye!”

Dipper could only stare in horror as Bill smiled with too many teeth and gleefully replied, “Sounds great, sister. I’ll see you at the show!”

As Mabel fled, Bill excitedly told Dipper, “I can kill two birds in one stone. Woo! What a productive day this will be!”

Dipper left Bill in the kitchen and flew after his twin as she left the Mystery Shack and climbed into the Stanleymobile with her friends, screaming and pleading to them the whole way. “Wait! Mabel, don’t listen to him! That’s not me! You’ve got to hear me!”

Grunkle Ford popped his head out of the bushes as everyone settled into the Stanleymobile, scanning the area before crawling to the back of the car. “Help me! I’m right here! You have to listen to me!”

Grunkle Ford never heard or saw him. Dipper waved his arms frantically but his Grunkle silently snuck into the trunk and shut himself inside, never noticing that anything was amiss.

Grunkle Stan started the car engine and hit the gas. “No, no, wait! Stop!”

Nobody heard him. Nobody saw him. The Stanleymobile drove away without pause.

It wasn’t until Stan, Mabel, Ford, and Mabel’s friends drove away that Bill went outside where Dipper was staring numbly at the car disappearing down the road. “Ha! Welcome to the Mindscape, kid. Without a vessel to possess, you’re basically a ghost!”

“Oh hey, Dipper.” Soos greeted Bill-in-Dipper’s-body as he walked outside.

“What up, dude?” Wendy asked, following Soos out the door.

Dipper ran-flew-up to the two, desperate for somebody-anybody-to hear him. “Soos! Wendy! We’re all in terrible danger! Help me!”

Neither of them heard his cries no matter how close he was or how loud he screamed. Wendy walked right through him without noticing anything, and it hurt. He felt so helpless in that moment, like he was all alone in the world and the only thing he could trust was that no one could help him. All alone, that is, except for Bill. And he could do nothing except watch Bill hurt him and everyone else he cared about.

Oblivious to the whole situation, Wendy said. “We’re headed to the theater. Need a ride, Dipper?”

“Haha! Anything for you, Red.” The three of them made their way to Soos’ pickup truck.

And then Dipper got mad. Bill came to this world and played with Dipper’s emotions like a toy doll. He stole Dipper’s body and hurt him for fun and tricked his family and threatened to destroy everything Dipper had worked for and everyone Dipper loved! And as far as Dipper could tell, somehow, in some way, Bill had done the exact same thing to Grunkle Ford.

Dipper was not going to sit back and let it happen.

“I’m gonna stop you, Bill! I’m gonna find a way to warn my family, and I’m gonna stop you!”

Bill climbed into Soos’ truck and slowly turned his head toward Dipper, those yellow eyes holding nothing but a sadistic and malicious joy. “But how can you stop me if you don’t exist? HAHAHAHAHA!”

Dipper stared after Soos’ truck as it drove away, suddenly aware of how impossible the task ahead seemed. Then he flew after the truck as fast as he could.

As soon as he felt the car engine shut off, Ford popped out of the Stanleymobile’s trunk, which scared Stan half to death. (His twin jumped and screamed so loudly that Ford missed Dipper, who went into the theater and sat down with Soos and Wendy, keeping his back to Ford the entire time.)

I’m a terrible brother. Stan is better off without me. All I ever bring him is confusion, fear, anger, and sorrow. I’m the real screw-up in the family and he has every right to hate me as much as he most certainly does for all I put him through.

He can’t think about that right now. He was here for Mabel and she was what he needed to focus on. It was with that thought that Ford leapt away from Stan, steeled his nerves and snuck to the side of the building where he broke in through a side door, bypassing the massive crowds of threats (people) near the front and trying desperately to stop thinking about how he was ready to and should be getting rid of Bill right now. He could be getting rid of him at this very moment but-

Protect the pack from Bill

But Mabel wouldn’t understand, and Ford couldn’t stand the thought of seeing Mabel wearing that sad expression ever again. The very thought of causing it made his gut twist in the familiar feeling of heavy, soul-consuming guilt.

Protect the pack from myself

So here Ford was, not sitting in one of the red seats laid out in neat rows, but instead standing near the exit doors at the very back of the Gravity Falls Theater behind the rows and rows of seats where the entire town was seated. None of them would be looking at Ford, but Ford could keep an eye on all of them and see where the pack was in the front row.

Now he was waiting for a play Mabel wrote to begin. His cub was so smart and kind, and he felt his chest swell with pride.

The lights dimmed and the curtain rose.

Protect the pack from-

Protect the-

Oh…this play is really good.

The play seemed to be a sock puppet opera about a pair of twins who had to overcome years of physical and emotional separation. Any fool could see it was a retelling of Stan and Ford’s life, except this one would have 72 songs and a happy ending.

It was beautiful and fun and he found himself caring very deeply for these made-up characters in a way he hadn’t done in 30 years. The music was catchy, the practical effects were leagues beyond what any other 12 year old would be capable of, and the play made him feel things. The best part of it was seeing Mabel in her element, doing what she loved and doing an amazing job at it. Ford smiled as he was filled with so much love and pride he thought his heart might explode.

All too soon, the curtains eventually closed and the lights flickered back on. Ford glanced around in confusion, trying to figure out what was happening. He flinched at the light. They can see me they can see me find a dark safe space hide hide hide.

Grenda’s voice boomed across the theater, “OUR INTERMISSION HAS BEGUN! MILL ABOUT!”

People began moving around and Ford leapt toward the nearest small, dark hiding spot he could find. Which happened to be between the wall and the plastic plants in the lobby. (He wasn’t there to see Dipper walk to the back room where Mabel was, and that in itself was nothing suspicious. Nobody thought twice about a brother going to find his sister.)

There Ford stayed, hidden and still and quiet until he heard Grenda shouting again, “OUR INTERMISSION WILL END IN 5 MINUTES. PLEASE TAKE YOUR SEATS!”

Once the threats (people) sat down where Ford could see them again, he went back to his spot in the back of the theater too.

The lights dimmed again and Ford’s heart squeezed in anticipation of what happened next. He hoped the sock puppet characters got the happy ending they deserved. He’s never had a happy ending before, and he thought seeing one would be nice.

Ford leaned forward a bit, waiting in anticipation as the curtain rose once more. But nothing happened. The audience was met with silence. The set was ready, but no one was there to perform. People began to murmur and Ford suddenly got a very bad feeling.

Then the two cubs crashed onto the stage in a tangle of limbs and screams. In the distance between him and the stage, it took a moment for Ford to see the knife in Dipper’s hand. Too long.

Danger danger protect the cubs da-

‘There is never any danger. It’s always just you being a stupid, paranoid animal.’ It took every ounce of effort not to bolt towards the stage. ‘It’s just a stage prop,’ Ford reminded himself. ‘This is part of the play. Don’t you dare ruin this for Mabel.’

The rest of the audience, including Stan, must have thought the same. They just sat back and kept watching the cubs fight. Stan even pulled out a video recorder and filmed it.

The cubs violently tumbled across the stage, Dipper trying to grab Mabel and hold her still long enough to stab her, and Mabel frantically trying to run away and fight back. Mabel had one of Ford's journals in hand and she was using it both to shield herself from Dipper’s attacks and to smack him at every opportunity. “Get out of my brother’s body, you evil triangle!”

Wait…

Ford squinted his eyes and leaned closer to the stage until he could just barely make out the cubs’ eyes.

No. Nononono. It can’t-Not my Dipper

“You can’t stop me! I’m a being of pure energy with no weakness!” Dipper-not Dipper-threw himself at Mabel and pinned her down with his body. With an evil grin, he raised a knife above her head.

Ford ran faster than he’d run in his entire life.

Mabel yanked the journal over her head to shield herself just as Bill brought the knife down. The knife embedded itself into the journal, the blade stopping barely an inch above her face. Before Bill could push the knife further down on her, Mabel managed to throw him off. She sprang to her feet, gripping the journal and the knife stuck in it in front of her. “Dipper?” She called into the air around her. “Dipper, where are you?” She really wanted a hug right now.

The force of Mabel’s throw sent Bill flying onto the box of fireworks and matches she planned on using for the play’s epic finale.

With a fierce growl that sent a chill shivering down her spine, Ford jumped up onto the stage and charged at Bill.

“Stop Grunkle Ford-”

Bill smiled impossibly wide and lit the fireworks.

Ford crashed into Bill and wrapped his arms around Dipper’s body as they fell to the floor, cradling his head and pinning his body down so that moving would be impossible. Dipper’s exhausted and hurting body shut down the moment he hit the ground.

Fireworks shot off and flew wildly in every direction. The world erupted into bright fire noise ears ringing keep running hot fire burning rockets screaming bombs hide underground enemies trying to kill you fire protect the cubs run danger danger!

And Ford’s vision-

Went-

Red.

Chapter Text

Piercing shrieking noise ears ringing heart pounding booms.

That was the first thing Dipper registered.

Blinding white light he could see from behind his closed eyelids. So tired. He couldn’t pull his hands up to cover his ears, he couldn’t even move because something was holding him down. He was back in his body, and every inch of it hurt. It hurt in places he didn’t know existed. It hurt worse than anything he’d ever felt before.

Dipper tried his best to breathe through the pain as the sound of fireworks died all at once, having all gone off and burned out.

There were big, steady arms wrapped around him, tucking him close to a warm body that shielded him from the heat of the fireworks. They held him close and Dipper felt safe in them.

Dipper grasped the warm fabric surrounding him as whoever was holding him down pulled away just enough to see each other’s faces. He saw Grunkle Ford’s face looking at him, desperately searching Dipper’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. I was stupid and-”

Ford shushed him. His face held nothing but love and worry for his grand nephew as he gently wiped away the blood from Dipper’s right eye with his thumb. A soft warble left Ford’s mouth and Dipper could feel the moment the pin his Grunkle held him in became a hug. So that’s what Ford’s hugs felt like. He felt strong and warm and safe…He was finally safe.

Dipper looked around frantically until he saw Mabel curled up in a fetal position on the other end of the stage, a bit further away from where the fireworks went off. Before Dipper could pull away toward her, Grunkle Ford secured him in one arm and practically leapt to Mabel, securing her in his other arm and pulling her close to him as if to shield her from the world, just like he was doing with Dipper.

His sister was alive and safe.

A vice loosened in Dipper’s chest and he buried his head against his Grunkle’s shoulder and clung tighter as tears rolled down his face. He continued to breathe through the pain lighting all of his nerves on fire. Dipper barely noticed as Ford lifted both of the children into his arms and raced away from the crowd, taking them past the curtains and deeper into the empty backstage area where there were lots of places to hide from a watching audience.

Dipper didn’t know where they were going, and he was too tired to care. All that mattered was that he did it. Everyone was safe again.

Bill was gone. Grunkle Ford came for me.

He came for me.

Stan had assumed that when Mabel said her sock puppet show would have live pyrotechnics, she wouldn’t think that setting off real fireworks indoors was a good idea. He would never underestimate the lengths his great niece was willing to go for ‘epicness and bedazzlement’ ever again.

Stan pushed Soos and Wendy’s heads underneath him and dove down just in time to dodge a rocket flying right where his head was. He stayed there, pushing his employees underneath him to shield them as much as possible, until the booming finally stopped.

When he popped back up, the theater was pretty much destroyed and the audience was leaving, whining about how, “We almost died,” “That was terrible,” “I think I need to go to a hospital,” and “Someone get me my heart pills.”

‘What a bunch of wimps,’ Stan thought as he put out the small fire on his suit. ‘Us Pineses are tougher than that. We can take a few fireworks to the face no problem.’

That thought was immediately followed by the heart-wrenching realization that the kids took a few fireworks to the face!

“KIDS!” Stan turned to the stage just in time to see Ford scoop up Mabel and race behind the stage curtains with the two smaller twins in his arms. Stan didn’t hesitate in running after them, Soos and Wendy following close behind.

Ford was running on nothing but pure instinct. His mind was enveloped in a red fog and he couldn’t think. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. The world had faded away and his mind was shut down. He wasn’t even sure where he was, nor did he care. All that he knew was that it wasn’t safe.

His cubs are hurt and small and scared get them safe safe safe place safe place safe place.

He ran without a sound through the strange place they were in. There was an open room here. Ford cautiously sniffed the doorway before tip-toeing further in, eyes flickering to every corner and curling around the cubs in his arms.

No predators no bad smells. No blood. No fear. Smell the bright cub? Familiar space?

Ford looked around.

Safe hiding spots soft things possible escape route through vents.

“Grunkle Ford, what are we doing in my dressing room?” The bright cub asked softly. “The danger’s gone and we can go home now, silly.” She gave a small smile and kept a hand on her brother, the smaller cub, as she used her other hand to poke Ford’s nose.

‘Safe,’ he decided.

With more gentle care than he’d ever done anything before in his life, Ford slowly placed the two cubs underneath the dressing table, whining apologetically when the smaller cub winced in pain from the movement.

Ford zoomed around the room, collecting clothes, blankets, curtains, pillows and anything that was soft.

Cubs deserve the softest warmest nests build a nest for the cubs they are hurt and scared keep them safe warm happy.

He piled everything around them and hummed in satisfaction when the tension finally left the cubs. The smaller one’s pained look eased as he laid on top of the soft materials. They both hugged the fabrics and sank into the nest, clinging onto each other the whole time.

His cubs were the best cubs.

Hear something hear footsteps fast heavy danger coming protect protect.

Ford crouched down in front of his cubs and fixated on the door as the heavy thudding got closer and closer. The bright cub tried to crawl toward the door and opened her mouth to make noise.

DANGER!

The red haze at the edges of Ford’s vision grew until it was all he could see. In a panic, he pressed a hand over the bright cub's mouth and pushed her behind him. Ford pressed the twins into the nest and backed them against the wall.

Predators everywhere hide quiet quiet be still don’t let the threat find you.

The smaller cub made a noise at the rough motion that had Ford on edge and he needed to fix it because that sound was bad. He had to push the cubs down to shield them from the danger. There was shouting behind the door. He didn’t understand what was being said. It was loud and dangerous. He watched the door and hoped they wouldn’t be found.

The threat came crashing through the door anyway. He couldn’t see who the threat was beyond the fact that it was big and knew where they were and there were three of them they had to STAY AWAY-

Ford snarled.

The threats were making more noise and the bright cub made noise back what was she doing one of the threats came closer the cubs were still hurt they needed help the red made it impossible to think fear clouded his mind his vision they had to go away leave my cubs alone-

One of them took a step toward the nest. Ford took out his gun and aimed, snarling viciously at all three of the threats.

One of the threats kept making loud noises and took another step forward. Ford immediately fired a warning shot at their feet. The threat finally stopped dead in their tracks. Ford snarled again with bared teeth. Everyone was finally quiet.

Ford kept his gun aimed at the threats and kept a low growl going. He did not dare look away and give them the opportunity to attack. The threats and the cubs were stunned into stillness. No one dared to make the first move.

Stan stared at his twin in shock. Ford shot at him. Ford shot at him.

Stan never thought his brother would…he had to have done something wrong. But what did Stan do? How did he fix it? How many times would he have to feel like this (unwanted abandoned) before-

Stop. He had to stop this spiral before it was too late. This was a flashback or something like it or whatever, like those fancy emotion books he stole talked about. Ford was scared and he had no idea what was going on. He must not recognize where he was or who they were. His brother did a lot of really weird stuff no one understood all the time but he would never threaten to kill his family. Stan knew he was right about that.

He took his eyes off the barrel of that sci-fi gun and looked closer at Ford. His twin was tired and dirty, but what really hit Stan was that there was no recognition in Ford’s eyes. Whatever he was seeing right now, whatever was scaring him so badly, it wasn’t Stan. He swallowed the emotional blow over not being recognized when he knew who the kids were in this state and tried to recall everything that would help right now. What he could remember wasn’t nearly enough, but it was all he had to work with. The rest he just had to make up as he goes.

The two of them needed to talk about what to do the next time something like this happened. They had to look for grounding methods or at least warning signs and triggers for whatever happened to Ford because everything he remembered from those books could be summed up to. ‘Be calm, give him space, be calm, repeat some reassuring phrases over and over, be calm, stay patient and don’t ask personal questions or get pushy, and for the love of all that you hold dear just be calm.’

That was not Stan’s style, and it was not nearly enough. There was no punching involved.

But he would do anything for family.

First, he had to make sure the kids were alright because he needed to know if he had to physically fight his brother to get them to a hospital. He made sure to speak in a low, calm tone without taking his eyes off Ford. “Dipper, Mabel,” he called.

Ford did not untense, but he didn’t get tenser either.

A pair of wide awake eyes and a pair of half-asleep eyes peeked out from behind Ford.

“Are you kids okay? Do I need to get you to a hospital?”

Mabel glanced uncertainly in Dipper’s direction. “Umm…”

“I think…I think I want to stay here for a while.” Dipper knew that people in as much pain as he was in were supposed to go see a doctor. Painkillers sounded fantastic right now, but at the same time he just wanted to stay here with his sister and his Grunkle holding him, surrounded by soft warm things. He wanted to sleep knowing that the people he loved were safe and that they were all there to protect each other. Grunkle Ford would keep him safe from Bill.

“Ford isn’t hurting you, right? Is he freaking you out?”

“No!” Mabel protested. “He’s being very nice and gentle with us. He’s just a little confused right now, that’s all.”

Ford glared murderously at Stan, Soos and Wendy.

Dipper clung to Ford’s trench coat and leaned against the terrified man’s back.

“Okay. Okay we can work with this. Soos. Wendy. We’re going to give them some space. Follow my lead.” He took a slow step backward, accentuating his movements. Another small step. Another small step.

Soos and Wendy followed his movements until the three of them were backed up against the wall on the furthest side of the room.

“Okay, bro. We’re not gonna do anything to you. We’re just gonna slowly take a seat on the floor here, and no one’s gonna try anything funny.” They slid down to the floor, careful to avoid sudden movements that would startle Ford.

Ford finally stopped growling.

“See, poindexter. No one wants to hurt anyone here. You’re safe. The kids are safe. We’re at the Gravity Falls theater. You need to put the gun down so we can go home.”

“You know us, Dr. P.” Wendy spoke up. “We’re cool, remember? You’ve got nothing to worry about. If there was anything that needed a good ol’ beat down, we’d already be on it.”

Soos added, “Yeah, dood. The bad guys would be like ahhh and we would be like ahhh except it would be a victory cry instead of a cry of humiliating defeat like the bad guys would give. And then we would have a pizza party or something while the bad guys plot their revenge and when they come back to try and kill us, we’ll just beat them up again.”

Ford did not move or look away from them. His aim did not falter.

So they repeated various reassurances again and again and again. Never too loud or too fast. And eventually, maybe after five minutes or so, Ford lowered the gun a little bit. Then a little more. His eyes darted to the side for a moment. The venomous glare faded into a suspicious glare. Five more minutes and the red haze faded back into the edges of his vision. There was a spark of recognition and he slowly holstered his gun.

Satisfied that there was no immediate danger nearby, Ford turned back to his two cubs. They were still hurt and they needed help.

Stan just silently, calmly watched the whole thing.

His brother made this adorable warbly coo sound, and the hard dangerous look in his eyes became all soft and loving the moment he saw the kids. Any concerns about his brother hurting the kids vanished in an instant. Adorable really was the only word to describe it.

Ford studied Dipper and Mabels eyes for a moment before gently wiping the tears from their faces. The warbly coo noise became louder and softer at the same time, and the kids melted at the sound and their Grunkle’s warm touch.

Ford gathered the twins in his arms and nuzzled their heads. Why he did it, Stan had no idea. But the kids seemed to like it and the tension finally left Ford’s shoulders so he wouldn’t stop it.

What was weird was that when Ford pulled away, he also started sniffing Dipper. Ford immediately let out a very distressed whine that grew at every new injury he found, and it seemed that he’d found a lot.

Ford reached into the inside pockets of his trenchcoat and pulled out enough fancy first aid supplies and medicine to supply a small hospital. Stan had no idea that his brother carried that everywhere and the implications on why he thought it was necessary was not good. How did he even fit all that stuff in there?

Stan watched his twin get to work dressing Dipper’s injuries, of which there were many. So many that Stan quickly lost track of them. It took a very long time and by the time they were done, Dipper looked like he would fall apart into a million pieces if those bandages weren’t holding him together. Yet Ford worked as quickly and carefully as possible, wiping away tears and keeping up the warbly coos and making small apologetic whines when the pain became too much for Dipper. Mabel gripped her brother’s hand (the one that didn’t have small puncture wounds all over it) the whole time.

The kid looked absolutely miserable and every slight movement he made looked like it hurt, even if it was just blinking. Ford had Dipper swallow what Stan assumed was some kind of sci-fi antibiotic magical schmagical healing pill.

By the looks of things, Dipper was hurt way more than Stan initially assumed. He wished he could get a better look at his great nephew but between the distance and Ford’s body blocking his line of sight, Stan reluctantly resigned himself to anxiously waiting until tomorrow to take another look at the kids.

Then Ford repeated the process with Mabel, sniffing her looking for any injuries and fixing her up as best he could. She didn’t have nearly as much damage as her brother, but she was still pretty shaken up. Ford let out a tiny petulant growl at the burns covering her back and arms before pulling a canteen of water out of his trenchcoat and cooling the burns. He quickly and carefully put some kind of lotion or ointment on them, wrapped them up, and gave Mabel a pill like the one he gave Dipper. Everytime Mabel winced or flinched in pain, Dipper gripped her hand and Ford let out an apologetic whine.

Ford treated the other bruises and small, shallow cuts on Mabel before pulling away. He gave both the kids one last cursory inspection before he was finally satisfied and packed what was left of his first aid supplies back in his trenchcoat.

Ford suspiciously surveyed the room one last time before gently guiding the twins into laying down in the middle of the pile of fabrics he’d put together. Ford tucked them in, mindful of their wounds, and gave a satisfied hum.

Stan watched his brother lay down beside them, positioning himself between the kids and the rest of the world. Ford curled around Dipper and Mabel and wrapped his arms around the two of them. Ford held the kids close and the three of them snuggled deeper into the fabrics together. He nudged Wendy and told her to take a picture on her phone.

Despite his many injuries and the traumatic events of the day, Dipper fell asleep almost immediately. Mabel followed her brother not long afterwards, both of them feeling comfortable and safe and cared for wrapped in their Grunkle Ford’s arms.

90 minutes passed before the red completely faded from Ford’s mind and he came back to himself. He looked around. He was curled around the two cubs (nevermind how he’d forgotten his own name in that state, he was used to that. But he’d forgotten Dipper and Mabel’s names) and the three of them were holding each other and tucked inside the soft nest he made. The cubs were fast asleep. They were in Mabel’s dressing room at the theater, just like the rest of the pack told him over and over.

Stan…

His pack brother, Soos and Wendy were sitting on the other side of the room, where they had been the whole time. Stan was fighting sleep and the other two were keeping themselves occupied with their tiny cellular phones that he didn’t understand.

Clarity hit Ford like a baseball bat to the head.

He snarled at his pack. He shot at them.

A whine escaped him as shame enveloped him and for a brief moment the thought wiggled into his brain, ‘Maybe the pack would be safer if you were shot instead.’

But then how would he know for sure if the pack was safe from other threats? What if they were in danger? Or needed help hunting? Or got sick? What if Bill found-

Bill.

The shame became mixed with anger. Protectiveness. Determination. He couldn’t afford to wallow until the Threat was gone. Nothing else mattered until then. The safety of the pack depended on it.

The cubs were sound asleep in his arms. If he could hold the cubs any tighter without hurting them, he would. Instead he settled for softly nuzzling them again as if to say, ‘These cubs are mine and I will keep them safe.’ He was extra careful not to touch their injuries.

Stan blinked at them. “Hey buddy. You with us yet? Because I’ve been sitting here for about two hours and my back is killing me.”

Another wave of shame washed over Ford. He opened his mouth to respond but no sound came out. It was like his tongue couldn’t remember how to form words and his brain couldn’t remember what words to use and he was fine so why couldn’t he just do this simple thing stupid stupid stupid-

Ford gave a small nod instead.

“Finally!” Stan excitedly exclaimed.

Ford cringed at the noise.

“Sorry. Sorry. Are you okay? What was that?”

Ford still couldn’t remember what words to use so he stared helplessly at the cubs snuggled in his arms. He wasn’t important anyway. The pack’s safety was all that mattered right now.

Stan’s gaze softened. “Not there yet, I guess. That’s okay. Are you ready to go home now?”

Another hesitant nod.

Even though everything outside of the nest felt dangerous and every neuron in his brain kept thinking of all the horrible things that could happen outside of this little safe space, he pushed himself up and out of the nest. Stan didn’t like it here, and they had to get back to their territory eventually.

Ford was on edge and brimming with tension as he gently bundled up Dipper and Mabel in the fabrics and pulled them into his arms. When Stan offered to carry one of them, he shied away.

Ford apologetically followed the rest of the pack to the parking lot and into the Stanleymobile. Soos and Wendy peeled off from the group and headed to Soos’ truck. They were going back to their own homes and Ford froze thinking, ‘Why are they leaving it’s too dangerous don’t they know Bill could-’

The weight of the cubs in his arms kept him grounded. It would ultimately be counterproductive to kidnap them and keep them in the Mystery Shack. It would make them want to leave even more and then everyone would be angry at him. He jerked away and refused to make eye contact with Stan as he climbed into his brother’s car. Ford was jumpy and nervous the whole ride home, and Stan had no idea how to fix it.

Ford still couldn’t find it in him to speak or even look at his twin, and Stan didn’t feel like pushing his brother when he was obviously barely holding it together. The ride to the Mystery Shack was quiet and awkward.

When they arrived at the Mystery Shack, Ford ignored his brother and headed straight upstairs. Mindful of their injuries, he slowly and carefully tucked each cub into their beds, made sure they were comfortable, nuzzled their heads one last time, and began circling the room. He prowled around the attic inspecting every nook and cranny and triple checking the locks on the window and door, keeping an ear out for threats or any sign of distress or possession from the small sleeping figures.

Having finished his patrol, Ford jumped up onto the rafters above and settled in. He would watch for anything dangerous or distressing and make sure the cubs slept soundly. He did not move from his lookout position all night.

Ford stood vigil over the two cubs’ sleeping forms the entire night, watching over them and making sure they were safe from predators, especially Bill. He stayed up wide awake on watch, never sleeping for a second until his brother came up to the attic to watch the cubs himself and give them breakfast. His pack brother would keep them safe. He had to remember that.

Ford reluctantly left the house between one blink and the next, quiet as a whisper and without the notice of the pack. It was hard to leave his pack that didn’t want him, especially when they were so vulnerable, perhaps the hardest thing he’s ever done. He had to fight every instinct that told him to stay with them, hide them, provide and protect them and never leave their side or they would be dead. But Stan was a better pack leader than he would ever be. He was strong and smart and didn’t act like a stupid animal all the time. So Ford let out a brief, frustrated snarl and tore himself away from the Mystery Shack. By the time the pack realized he was gone yet again, Ford would be far away.

There was only one thought dominating Ford’s mind as he traveled deeper into the woods, away from the pack’s territory.

Protect the pack from Bill

How dare Bill Cipher hurt Dipper and Mabel. HOW DARE HE! Ford would eliminate the threat right now, just like how he should have been doing it last night. But he didn’t, and his cubs paid the price. Ford would not make that mistake again.

Protect the pack from Bill

A deep fearsome growl tore through him. He would destroy the threat no matter what. He had a plan, he had the tools, he was more than ready.

Protect the pack from Bill

Ford traversed deeper and deeper into the woods, following a path that steered clear of birch trees and other gateways the abominable triangle could see him through. The sun rose higher. The hours blurred. He pushed past the long familiar ache of his legs and lungs, cursing his old age, and refused to stop for rest. It was nothing he wasn’t used to. The sun fell below the treeline and stars began to dot the darkening sky. He just took a sip of water from his canteen, readjusted the quantum destabilizer strapped to his shoulders, and walked faster.

Protect the pack from Bill

It was better to be as far away from town as possible to minimize the risk of innocent people getting caught in the crossfire, but he had to remain within the borders of Gravity Falls. He knew the Law of Weirdness Magnetism would create a natural barrier the dream demon couldn’t escape from and he knew Bill didn’t know about it, because if Bill knew then he would have never had him build a portal within the town borders in the first place. Ford didn’t stop until he reached the edge of the Gravity Falls border, as far away from the pack’s territory as possible.

Protect the pack from Bill

Ford stopped in a small clearing. After triple checking there were no places Bill could watch him from, he took out the ingredients for a unicorn barrier and constructed a barrier around the clearing. Ford watched the barrier activate in a brief lightshow of rainbow colors and magical symbols before fading, then he stepped inside the barrier. With murderous rage in his eyes, he gently removed the Rift from his trenchcoat and placed it on the ground.

Protect the pack from Bill

Ford ran out of the barrier and scaled a nearby tree. He hunkered down, hidden within the leaves and branches. He set up the quantum destabilizer and set it aside for a moment. With one hand, Ford took his gun out of its holster, aimed at the Rift, and fired.

Protect the pack from Bill

The containment unit shattered into a million pieces and the Rift grew until it reached the borders of the unicorn barrier.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Ford bared his teeth at the shrill laughter and swallowed the snarl at the edge of his lips. He couldn’t make noise and give his position away. Ford holstered his gun and held the quantum destabilizer in front of him.

“Oh, it’s happening! It’s finally happening!” Bill flew through the portal and his two dimensional body was quickly, gruesomely covered in layers of muscles and tissues and skin until his form reassembled back into a yellow triangle. “Physical form? Don’t mind if I do!”

Ford watched through the scope as Bill flew around, waiting for the perfect shot. He only had one chance to do this.

Protect the pack from Bill

“HAHAHA! Now what finally broke the Rift? Who do I have to thank for the opportunity to rule this universe!” Bill looked around, only to find no one around. “Hmm, guess Sixer must have hidden it here and left. Maybe a deer stepped on it…NO MATTER! It doesn’t change the fact that I REIGN SUPREME! Now LET'S GET WEIRD!!!” Bill floated up and grew as if trying to be as intimidating and important as he wished he was. He expanded until the tip of his hat reached the top of the unicorn barrier.

“WHAT?!?” Bill could not breach the barrier.

Ford smirked as Bill thrashed, trying and failing to find a weak point. He clawed at the barrier and screamed, “WHAT IS THIS! WHAT DID YOU DO! STANFO-”

Ford locked onto his target and fired.

Every molecule in Bill’s body began to destabilize and disintegrate all at once. Bill desperately tried to reform himself only to fall apart faster than he could put himself back together, prolonging his death into something slow and painful. The triangle glitched and twisted into everything and nothing, cracking apart and reforming and dematerializing faster than the human mind could process.

Ford couldn’t hold back his snarl anymore. An unfathomable amount of rage was held in the sound that had sent countless other lifeforms running with tails between their legs and chills down their spines. He wanted so badly to charge at Bill. To bite and claw and tear apart. To hurt him as much as he hurt Dipper and as much as he tried to hurt Mabel. But he already had.

Protect the pack from Bill

The agonized glitching finally stopped, and his twisted form cried out a litany of nonsense. “ELTEOHELOH-”

The Rift closed as if it never existed at all, and there was nothing inside the unicorn barrier except broken glass.

Bill disintegrated before he could finish.

Chapter Text

It had been a week since Ford disappeared, and everyone was losing their minds.

The only thing Stan stopped his constant searching for was taking care of the kids. He was amazed at how well they were healing. Whatever magical medicine his brother gave them seemed to be working better than anything a hospital could give them, but healing still took time and the kids were only allowed to do light activity around the house.

The kids were still antsy and asked if they could join Stan in his search everyday. They tried to sneak out on multiple occasions but they couldn’t run very fast or hide from him very well in their condition. Especially Dipper. Stan respected rebellion and toughness, but this time he had to put his foot down. Those injuries were too…

Stan shuddered and went back to searching.

Stan searched the house, the town dump, every inch of this stupid hick town, and even the woods, but the woods were huge. Nothing in the journals helped him and when he asked the kids why journal 3 had a knife sticking out of it, the answer made him so angry and desperate.

Then he stormed through the town searching for Ford again. Nothing.

“Hey, Mr. Mystery!” Tyler Cutebiker called out in the middle of the street.

Stan kept angrily walking back to the Mystery Shack. He had to feed the kids dinner, check their bandages, and get back to looking for his dumb brother.

Tyler Cutebiker ran alongside him. “You’ll never guess what happened!”

He didn’t have time for this. What if Ford was hurt or was in the middle of another amnesia-flashback thing or dead-

“I was elected mayor! Hooray!”

Stan grumbled.

“I didn’t see you at the Wednesday Stump Speech or the Friday Debate.”

He’d clench his fists if they weren’t already clenched. “I’ve been busy.”

“Of course! Busy getting ready for the grand re-opening of the Mystery Shack, I assume.”

“The re-opening is delayed until further notice,” Stan deadpanned.

Tyler Cutebiker looked like Stan had ripped his heart out and stomped on it. “What?!? Why? What happened?”

Stan wanted to scream. He wanted to scream very loudly for many reasons. “Because I have to find my dumb brother and tie him to a chair so I stop losing him!”

“You have a brother? Was he that strange fellow that destroyed the mini golf course?”

He angrily grumbled, “None of your business.”

Tyler Cutebiker gave Stan a serious look. His serious looks were as adorable and hilarious as Dipper’s angry faces. Stan couldn’t find it in him to laugh, though. “If he’s missing then I can get a search party together. We’ll find your brother in no time if we get the whole town to help-”

“NO!” Stan didn’t know much about what went on in Ford’s head, but he knew that Ford would never come out for these people. A search party of strangers would just scare him and then he would be even harder to find.

He grabbed Mayor Cutebiker by the collar and pulled him close. “Listen to me you strange baby-man-thing. My brother has been through enough and the last thing he needs is a bunch of strangers poking around. I’m going to find him and you and everyone else in this town is going to stay outta his business. This doesn’t concern you.” Stan shoved the new mayor away and stormed off.

Behind him, Mayor Cutebiker smiled and began cheering, “Get ‘im! Get ‘im! Get ‘im!”

Stan marched back to the Mystery Shack to make dinner before it got too dark outside, frustrated that another day went by while he still couldn’t find anything.

When he arrived at the Mystery Shack, he paused. There was a pile of berries left at the front door.

Wendy was walking home from the Mystery Shack, keeping up a brisk pace so she would make it home before the sun began to set. She knew she could take on anything that came her way, but she wasn’t stupid enough to tempt the fates. She wasn’t going to end up walking home alone in the dark in the middle of the woods if she didn’t have to. She knew what was out there.

But Wendy could handle herself. She knew how to stay safe and was confident walking anywhere. Her dad trained her for an apocalypse and everything. So she kept an eye and an ear out, made sure she had her ax with her, and walked through the woods completely unafraid.

Which was why she noticed the feeling of being watched that followed her all the way home.

She couldn’t tell if the rustling grass was from a rabbit, gnomes, or whatever was following her. She quickly turned her head to look around several times but never saw anything. Instead of running away or stopping to investigate like an idiot with a death wish, Wendy just kept on walking straight home.

The feeling of being watched left as soon as she got inside.

Oddly enough, she never felt like she was in any danger. Actually, it felt like whoever was watching her was keeping her safe.

Dipper and Mabel were officially sick of board games. They must’ve played all of Grunkle Stan’s old games at least 50 times now. They watched tv until their brains melted. Used every trick in the book to try and convince someone, anyone, to let them help look for Grunkle Ford or at least go outside. Grunkle Stan, Soos and to their surprise, even Wendy, would not budge. If Grunkle Stan wasn’t watching them, then Soos and Wendy were. Sneaking out didn’t work either. Dipper couldn’t run or climb or crawl nearly fast enough, if at all, to sneak out behind someone’s back.

Mabel hated every second of everything, but she would hands down admit that Dipper had it worse. He’d finally just started healing enough to use both hands completely and it still hurt him to sit down, stand up, or walk too fast.

Sitting there and waiting for their bodies to stop hurting was so boring!

And the healing wounds were so itchy!

Mabel let out a loud and rather sad sigh as she knitted a blue sweater with raindrops all over it.

Dipper looked up from his what-the-heck-a-hedron (he’d never take working eyes or hands or limbs for granted ever again) and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” She mumbled.

Dipper put his game down and turned to her. “You’ve been like this ever since you went to the store with Grunkle Stan yesterday. What’s bothering you?” She had less injuries than Dipper and had been given the okay to walk around the store, but not to run through the woods and she had to take it easy around the house. Still, she insisted on staying with Dipper.

It was both shocking and distressing when Mabel put her knitting needles down and hugged her knees to her chest instead of answering.

“…Do you want to talk about it?”

Mabel looked at her twin for a moment before pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket. “I found this in the back of Grunkle Stan’s car yesterday. It’s a note that Bill left behind when you were turned into a sock puppet.”

Dipper took the paper and read it.

‘Note to self: I’d forgotten how hilarious possessing people is! To think of all the sensations I’ve been missing out on - burning, stabbing, drowning. It’s like a buffet tray of fun! Once I destroy Fordsy’s family and research, I’ll enjoy giving this body its grand finale - by throwing it off the water tower! Don’t be sad, Shooting Star! Pine Tree’s mental form will join you and Mackerel in the mindscape where you’ll wander for eternity! I’ll keep watch over Sixer for you!’

Dipper tore the note into shreds to feed to Gompers later. “Bill’s just a bully that wants attention. As long as we ignore him and remember not to trust anything Bill says, he can’t really hurt us.” Dipper wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince, himself or his sister.

“It’s not that.”

Dipper slowly moved closer beside his sister and surrounded them with pillows before wrapping a blanket around the both of them. Grunkle Ford had accidentally taught them that it was an excellent way to feel safer and closer to each other.

Mabel clutched the edges of the blanket and curled into a ball. “I messed up really really bad. I did everything I could think of to make Grunkle Ford better but nothing worked. All I want to do is help but I just keep making everything worse! And now Grunkle Ford is more scared than ever and he might never come back and Grunkle Stan is still angry and he’s never gonna get to hug it out with Grunkle Ford and I abandoned you for my stupid puppet show idea and I was silly to think it could have worked and you almost died!”

Mabel’s breathing hitched in broken sobs. “Summer’s almost over. We’re gonna go back home to California and leave all of our friends behind and we won’t have anymore adventures and worst of all we won’t know if our Grunkles are okay. I need summer to last longer because we can’t leave them like this and I don’t want our adventures to end but I don’t know what to do because everything I do is dumb! I’m a bad sister and a bad niece and a bad person and I can't fix it because the Power of Mabel is dead! It’s dead and I killed it!”

Dipper hugged his sister as tight as he could and pulled the blanket over their heads. “I understand, Mabel. No matter how hard I tried, my plans didn’t work either. But at least we have each other. Whatever happens, we’ll do it together. I promise.”

Mabel just hugged him tighter and cried harder.

“The Power of Mabel is not dead. Remember what I said the morning after Grunkle Ford came home? I said that, ‘There is no greater power on earth than the Power of Mabel. It just might take some time to figure out what Power Mabel needs to use.’”

“But the Power of Mabel can’t fix anything anymore!”

Dipper thought for a moment, desperately trying to come up with some kind of plan to cheer Mabel up by proving she was wrong. He couldn’t think of anything, and had to admit the ugly truth. “I don’t think we can fix them. Maybe we just have to learn to accept them as they are right now, and leave them to fix themselves.”

There were tears and snot all over Dipper’s shoulder and he pretended that his own snot and tears weren’t going to cover Mabel’s shoulder very soon.

Mabel sobbed, “I w-want one of Grun-Grunkle Ford’s hugs.”

Dipper's chest hitched and his eyes got wet. “Me too. His hugs were the b-best.”

They cried themselves to sleep.

Hours later, the two of them woke up to find themselves surrounded by all of the blankets and pillows from Grunkle Ford’s pile under the couch in a similar manner to the blanket pile from the theater. It smelled just like their Grunkle.

Mabel had a pink flower crown she didn’t remember weaving together on top of her head. The pink flowers smelled really good and made her a little bit calmer. Dipper had a note on his face written in Grunkle Ford’s handwriting.

‘Bill is dead. I shot him with a quantum destabilizer. Bill is dead and can not come back. I know I scared you at the play. I deeply apologize for causing distress. Please stop being sad.’

In all the chaos lately, Stan never noticed that the gnomes, raccoons, and handsome clones had finally stopped rummaging through his trash.

(Miles into the woods, the clones began writing an album about the strange man who taught them how to trap and cook food, how to build shelters and make warm clothes, and how to stop eating poisonous berries and mushrooms, before disappearing into the dark night forever.)

He did notice that food, medical supplies, coins, and pretty things like flowers and colorful rocks and dead fairies kept magically appearing at the front door.

He searched the entire Mystery Shack inside and out then tore through the nearby trees screaming Ford’s name for three hours. Nothing.

Soos pulled up the security footage and fast-forwarded until he found what he was looking for. “There he is!”

Stan, Wendy, Dipper and Mabel crowded around Soos and peered at the black and white footage of the front lawn. The timestamp was marked at 1:52 AM, long after everyone was asleep. They watched Ford prowl across the lawn before disappearing from the camera’s view. He came back a while later and disappeared again. The same pattern repeated itself over and over as if he was circling the property. Ford also climbed onto the roof a few times, but the camera didn’t see where on the roof he went. Just that he climbed the portico over the front door before leaving the camera's view again.

There was no sign of him in the security footage from the gift shop and museum, and there were no cameras anywhere else in the Mystery Shack or the lawn. (The camera that Ford told Stan was broken turned out to have gotten fixed one morning, and Soos denied ever fixing it. He said never got around to it.)

It had been four days since Stan found the first pile of berries at the front door, and the footage showed Ford prowling around the place in the middle of the night for the same amount of time.

Stan cursed himself for not sucking it up and buying enough security cameras for the entire property all those years ago. If they just knew where else Ford went and what else Ford did then maybe they could do more.

Then he and everyone else stayed up, quietly hiding the whole night, watching and waiting to catch Ford prowling around the place. Wendy even set up some traps and Mabel had enough mabel juice to keep everyone awake. But Ford never showed up.

The kids and Soos insisted that Stan take a day to rest and they would not back off. When Stan tried to run away, he ended up stuck in a net suspended 20 feet in the air. Wendy set up a trap for him. Clever girl.

So here Stan was, angrily relaxing in front of the tv. Okay, maybe not as angry as he could be. Dipper, Mabel, Soos and Wendy were watching terrible infomercials and catching up on Ducktective with him, after all. The season finale of Ducktective was coming up in a week and Stan was more excited than he wanted to admit.

It was hard to stay excited and not angry when the phone wouldn’t stop ringing. “We’re closed. Whaddya want?” Stan grumbled into the phone.

It was Dipper and Mabel’s parents. “Hey! How have you guys been doing? Everything going okay up there?”

“It’s going great! This summer has been fantastic. Those kids are a delight, and they love me! I mean, why wouldn’t they? I am the ultimate Grunkle!”

“You really didn’t mind having the kids around this summer? Everyone’s been safe? Everyone's having a good time?”

“Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Pines. Everything’s great! The kids are perfectly safe up here. It’s been a very happy and adventurous summer. The kids love It! And I love having the kids around!”

“Glad to hear it.” There was a long suffering sigh on the other end of the line. “We feel really bad about this, Uncle Stan. But we need to ask for a favor.”

“Of course. Anything for family.”

There was a pause. “...We need you to look after the kids for a bit longer. A few months, actually. Maybe longer.”

Stan paused the tv, went to another room and closed the door. “Why? What happened?”

“Well, first there was the car crash-”

“Hot belgian waffles, are you two okay?”

“Yeah yeah. We’re fine. I just totaled the car and broke my arm in three places but it’s nothing that a few months and tens of thousands of dollars in medical bills won’t fix.”

“Tens of thou- I thought one of you worked at some computer company that gave you medical insurance!”

“Oh, I got fired. Budget cuts, innocent people pay the price, business is a cruel game, you know how it is. So I was looking for a new job before we ran out of money. That’s why we sent the kids over for the summer in the first place.”

“That’s why you sent them?”

“Yes. But we’re getting sidetracked.”

Stan would have words with his nephew later.

“So anyway, I’ve applied to every job in the city but no one’s hiring.” There was a crazed little laugh from the phone. “And then, wouldn’t you know it, there’s a huge earthquake and our house is filled with cracked walls and broken family heirlooms that we were going to sell to pay the bills, but that plan went down the toilet.”

“Listen, if you need money I-”

“And then there was the fire.”

Maybe Stan should stop talking.

“Our neighbor’s house caught on fire, but the earthquake had destroyed some roads so the firefighters didn’t get here in time to stop the fire from the neighbors house from jumping to our house. So now the house and most of our possessions are gone. So there’s the broken arm and the medical bills, and we don’t have a car, a house, jobs, or any money. But the cat’s okay and the paramedics say we only inhaled a little bit of smoke so everything’s fine. It’s all fine.”

There was a long moment of silence. “Uhhh, listen. I’m sorry that’s happened to you. If you need anything…maybe a place to stay or some money or-”

“No no no no. You don’t need to do that. You’re watching the kids. That is more than enough. We’re gonna call my dad and have him pick us up. We’ll be staying with dad while we figure things out. We’ll be fine, we just need some time. But we figured that there’s no reason to put the kids in the middle of all this if having them stay with you is an option. That is, if you can keep them? We know a few months or so is a lot to ask, and we understand if it’s to much-”

“Of course they can stay! You two go and sort yourselves out, yeesh! The gremlins will be safe with me. Take however long you need. But if you need anything else, and I mean anything, some money, a place to stay, a shady business opportunity to make some quick cash, all you have to do is ask, okay? No one in this family is gonna end up living on the streets while I have anything to say about it.”

“Thank you. We’ll be alright, Uncle Stan. I promise. Thank you. We’ll send over the kids’ school records as soon as we can.” Nobody mentioned how tight Mrs. Pines' voice sounded as she said that.

For the first time in Stan’s life, he wanted to force money down someone’s throat. He couldn’t make Mr. and Mrs. Pines accept help from him, but he’d keep offering over and over.

“Can you hand the phone to Dipper and Mabel so we can tell them?”

“Yeah, yeah. Seriously, I have more than enough to-”

“Uncle Stan.”

“Fine. Dipper! Mabel! Your parents are on the phone!”

Dipper and Mabel were healing nicely. After another week, they were cleared to walk around town and the house, but they were explicitly told not to go running through the woods or chasing after monsters and mysteries without supervision. As long as they didn’t push themselves too hard or do things that still hurt too much, the kids were free from house arrest.

The new security cameras picked up nothing useful. But once, Dipper woke up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water. The moment Dipper opened his eyes, he swore he saw a big shadow flit away from the window.

It had been three weeks since Ford vanished. Stan was rooting through the dump for what was probably the 50th time. Questioning Old Man McGucket turned out to be a dead end yet again and Stan hated this.

Dipper and Mabel were joining him in the search this time. He supposed it was nice to get some new energy and two fresh pairs of eyes on the case. The two of them were talking to Old Man McGucket and keeping the kook busy while Stan poked around the place.

Dipper came over to Stan. “You haven’t even let Old Man McGucket help? He was the only other person in this town that Grunkle Ford ever got close to. They almost seemed like friends when we found him here.”

“Look, kid. It’s not that I haven’t tried. It’s just that the hillbilly has got too many screws loose to get the point across.” They could hear Old Man McGucket laughing maniacally as he danced with some chickens while Mabel sang a love song.

Dipper stared. “...Maybe you just need to rephrase it.”

“I can’t be any clearer. I’ve asked him multiple times, ‘Have you seen Ford?’ ‘Do you know where Ford could be hiding?’ ‘Has Ford left you anything?’ ‘Can you help me find Ford?’ and McGucket has no idea who I’m talking about.”

“...Well I’m going to try anyway.”

“Good luck with that.” Stan followed Dipper to where Fiddleford was blissfully dancing with his chickens.

“Howdy!” McGucket stopped dancing and looked at them. “What can I do ya for?”

“We’re looking for someone named Ford. You remember who that is, right?”

At those words, Old Man McGucket’s big smile disappeared. He looked down and curled away from them in a way that almost seemed familiar. “I-I’m sorry, folks. It’s like I've been tellin’ this wrinkly old fella’ right here,” He pointed to Stan who was too tired to be offended. “The only Ford I know is the cars in this ‘ere dump. An’ ya already said ya ain’t lookin’ for a car.”

“Are you sure? Can you try to remember?” Dipper implored.

“I’m afraid my head noggin’s emptier than a bird’s belly in a blizzard.”

“You really can’t recall? He looked a lot like Grunkle Stan except he had a trenchcoat, he ran away from us and stayed with you for a couple days, he kept apologizing to you for some reason.”

There was a spark of recognition in McGucket’s eyes and his whole face lit up in a big toothless smile. “The nice stranger that was keepin’ me company! I thought you folks were lookin’ for a Ford feller, not a Stanferd feller!”

“Stanford?” Mabel asked.

“That’s those words that people called him! And I’m a people!”

Stan wanted to scream very much. “So you have seen him?”

“Nope!” McGucket cheerily replied.

“Do you know anywhere he might’ve run off to?”

“Nope!” McGucket said again, oblivious to Stan’s frustration and the kids’ disappointment.

Dipper was rather distraught at the response, “So there’s nothing you can do to help us?!?”

“Nope!” Old Man McGucket wandered off to some random pile of rusty metal and rummaged through the scrap, once again completely oblivious to the disappointment of the Pines family.

Just as they turned to dejectedly walk away, Old Man McGucket popped out with a vicious, squirming, hissing opossum in his hands. He held the animal up to them proudly. “Daisy can help! She can track that Stanferd person down fer us!”

Dipper looked at the opossum as it snarled and wiggled in McGucket’s grip and deadpanned, “I am not confident in this plan.”

“Cheer up, fellers. My nose ain’t up to the task, but this one is! Ol’ Daisy is the best sniffin’ opossum this side o’ the Cumberlands! She’ll find that nice stranger Stanferd in no time! She just needs a big whiff of somethin’ with Stanferd’s scent.” He held out the opossum to the three of them patiently.

They patted their pockets hoping for something useful to magically appear in them. After a moment of looking, Dipper pulled out the note his Grunkle wrote about killing Bill out of his pocket. He slowly stretched his hand out to the angry opossum and hoped he didn’t get rabies. Daisy snarled and thrashed the closer Dipper got to her very sharp teeth until the paper was right in front of her nose. The opossum stiffened and sniffed the paper for a long moment.

“Imma sorry I ain’t been of help to y’all lookin’ fer this Ford person too,” Old Man McGucket said.

“They’re the same person, wiseguy. Stanford’s nickname is ‘Ford.’” Stan felt a smile on his face and something that almost felt like hope for the first time since Ford went missing.

“Well what a fun misunderstandin’! Ya must be feeling real silly right now!”

Stan’s smile became tighter.

Suddenly, Daisy pulled away from the paper and screamed. Old Man McGucket put Daisy down and she took off, running as fast as she could out of the dump and through the town.

Everyone tripped over themselves as they began to run after the opossum. Stan scooped up the kids so they didn’t overexert themselves and ran after that opossum like it was carrying a million dollars in its mouth. McGucket laughed the whole way as he followed her. All of them started following Daisy and Old Man McGucket down the streets, cheering them along.

Chapter Text

He was hiding from the pack. It wasn’t that he wanted to. In truth, hiding from them and going back to a life where he was alone and empty and quiet and survival was all that existed was simultaneously the easiest and hardest thing Ford had ever done.

But he had to do it. The pack didn’t need him. They were better off without him. He hurt everybody. He was the reason Dipper got possessed and Mabel almost died and Stan was so upset all the time and Fiddleford had lost everything and he didn’t know what he did to Wendy or Soos but he must have done something because all he ever did was hurt the people he loved.

Ford squeezed his ribs, pretending that he could squeeze the sad feelings out of his heart. He curled up as tight as he could on the cold hard ground. He’d hurt his cubs. He didn’t deserve a nest anymore.

He knew they were worried about him. He knew they were looking for him. But sooner or later they would get tired and give up on him. They would realize they were better off without him and stop wasting their time. It was a matter of when, not if.

And maybe, perhaps, someday Ford would learn how to be alone again. He had done it for 30 years. What was 30 more? (But this was so much worse than those lonely years in the portal because the pack was right there and now that he knew what being in the company of people he trusted was like, it left his heart feeling like it was slowly being eaten away leaving a constant hollow ache in his chest. He wanted so badly.)

‘It was better this way,’ He told himself.

Ford snarled at Stan. Ford scared him. Stan was right to reject him. He knew that Ford was too different. He always had been and he always will be. There was no place for him anywhere in the multiverse. No place for him except the ocean of shame he was drowning in.

He desperately wished he could go back to how things were before. When he didn’t know how sad being alone made him. When he could run away without worrying about the people he was leaving behind. He wished he never came back through the portal. He wanted to go back to when things were familiar but he couldn’t. The portal was destroyed, and he had changed too much. He couldn’t even make it through the night without knowing his pack was okay anymore.

There were loud sounds getting closer. Ford just curled up tighter and stifled the sad whimpers trying to escape his throat.

Old Man McGucket and the Pines Family followed Daisy the Opossum through the town, up the dirt road, and toward the Mystery Shack. She circled the house twice before sprinting to the back porch and charging underneath it.

Everyone heard a vicious hiss from under the porch followed by a series of more vicious hisses, and Daisy came scrambling out into the open and hid in the garbage cans nearby.

McGucket went to praise Daisy and shower her with cuddles. The opossum's opinion on this was unclear. Daisy responded with squirming and screaming, gripping a half-rotten apple core tighter in her mouth, but she also never bit or scratched McGucket. Stan watched Daisy climb into Old Man McGucket’s beard and disappear as if she was never there.

Stan, Dipper and Mabel crouched down and peered beneath the back porch. They squinted in the dark and waited for their eyes to adjust. All three of them held their breaths and Stan couldn’t stop the hope from rising in his chest. All that anticipation and frustration and desperation welling up until Stan was afraid to look.

Ford was there.

“Grunkle Ford!” The kids happily exclaimed.

Here he was, dirty and tired and skittish but okay. Ford wasn’t hurt or dying. His brother was fine.

All the fear and concern and desperation and emotional tension inside Stan snapped. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED I’VE BEEN!?! You lose your marbles and disappear off the face of the earth! Did you even think about what that would do to your family?!? NEVER pull a stunt like that again because my heart can’t take this anymore!”

While Stan was yelling, Dipper and Mabel peered closer and realized their We Found Grunkle Ford Again Party would have to wait.

Grunkle Ford was frozen in place, curled up as small as he could make himself on the cold and dirty ground. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked skinnier than he was before he got lost. Every inch of his face revealed how stressed out he was and his eyes were pinpricked as his whole body began trembling in fear.

Ford looked at the pack, scared and ashamed. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he looked away. Stan finished his tirade and Old Man McGucket did a happy little jig before popping his head under the porch with them. Ford didn’t respond, he just curled up tighter and shook and shook and shook.

Naturally, everyone wanted to fix this immediately.

Old Man McGucket sniffed the air before inching forward, making inquisitive noises to ask what was wrong. Stan smacked himself on the forehead and called himself an idiot before frantically, sincerely apologizing for yelling and trying to reassure Ford that everything was okay. Mabel pulled out her phone and called Soos and Wendy for backup. Dipper got freaked out because Ford was freaking out because everyone else was freaking out so he was left struggling to pull Stan away from Ford and telling everyone to be quiet.

A series of pathetic whines escaped Ford as he scrambled backwards.

No one noticed when Old Man McGucket slowly backed away. They were too busy freaking out about Ford running off again.

“No no no no no! Wait!”

“Stop it! Wait! Don’t move! It’s okay, Grunkle Ford! It’s okay!”

“Get back here and eat something, you ungrateful nerd! Stop running away from me!”

Ford couldn’t breath as he scrambled back back back until he hit the cement foundation. His eyes darted back and forth to fast to really see anything he couldn’t stop shaking and it was so loud and everyone was so mad at him and-

The ground crumbled beneath Ford and he fell through a crack in the foundation.

The pack was still screaming above as he plunged into darkness.

Stan lunged forward only to be stopped by the twins grabbing onto his suit and pulling him back with all their strength.

“Grunkle Stan, you have to stop!” Mabel cried.

Dipper also cried out, “We’re scaring him! If we don’t approach this calmly and with understanding then we’re only going to make it worse! You know this, Grunkle Stan!”

Stan froze and had to admit to himself that the kids were right. Even though he had the best of intentions and knew more or less what he was supposed to do, he was too emotional to actually do it. He had to calm down. Stan growled, “Fine. You kids can deal with my brother if you’re so smart. I’m gonna go scream and punch away my feelings.”

Stan marched into the woods to do just that.

The younger twins took deep breaths and Mabel pulled her grappling hook out of the secret pocket she knitted inside her sweaters.

Dipper looked around for the other person they came with. “Do you wanna come with us, Old Man McGucket?”

The old man in question was crouching near the tree line looking at them uncertainly. “That nice stranger don’t wanna be bothered right now.” He let out a little whine himself.

“Grunkle Ford just needs someone to help him feel safe.” Dipper insisted.

McGucket squirmed uncomfortably. “Maybe.” Then he darted away on all fours, disappearing down the dirt road.

The kids shrugged. Mabel anchored her grappling hook and held onto her brother and the two of them slowly descended down the hole. Darkness enveloped them as they passed a series of old pipes, cobwebs, and support beams. They passed through another hole that their Grunkle must have crashed through and found themselves in the basement.

Mabel retracted her grappling hook and sent a text telling everyone where they were for backup purposes. Dipper looked around at the giant old computers and machines lining the walls. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust because the only source of light was from the colorful blinking lights on the machines that faintly lit up the room. Neither of them could find the light switch in the semi-dark, which defeated the whole point of light switches.

After his eyes adjusted, Dipper saw the outline of a figure underneath the desk. He knelt closer to the desk and squinted. There he found Grunkle Ford crammed against the corner underneath the desk and making himself as small and quiet as possible.

Dipper’s eyes lit up and he softly said, “Grunkle Ford, it's me. It’s Dipper. It’s alright. We’ve been so worried about you. Are you okay?”

Ford just kept shaking and shaking in a tight little ball of fear and shame, tears streaming down his face.

Mabel wanted so badly to tell her Grunkle that everything was okay and that she would fix whatever was wrong while hugging him until he felt as loved as he really was, but she didn’t trust herself not to do something dumb that just made everything worse again. So Mabel sat there and quietly watched them, worried that she would ruin things again.

Dipper sat a few feet away from his Grunkle and tried to push past his nervousness and not think about his nervous sweating. He racked his brain trying to think of what to say. “U-um…hey, Grunkle Ford.”

Grunkle Ford fixed his gaze on the floor and gripped his hair so tightly Dipper was afraid he would pull it out.

Dipper awkwardly held his hands out, wanting to pull Grunkle Ford’s hands away and uncertain if he should try. “Hey-hey. It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you.”

Grunkle Ford was breathing really fast.

“You have to slow down your breathing. Um…um, count your breaths. We can do that, right? 1, 2, 3… Mabel, do you remember the breathing patterns from the books?”

“You’re the one who read the books, not me,” She whispered in a panicking-but-trying-to-stay-calm-manner.

“Okay. Okay. Sensory things! Grunkle Ford, what do you hear? Focus on something you can hear. What is it?”

Grunkle Ford remained completely unresponsive. The outline of his form the kids could see in the dark remained a tight ball crammed as far away from them as possible, still shaking, crying and struggling to breathe. When Dipper inched his hand closer it was met with whimpering.

Dipper kept trying to sound as confident and soothing as he could. “Listen to me. There’s no reason to be so scared, Grunkle Ford. It’s just Mabel and I, and we love you. Think about this logically. Bill is dead and you’re in your home dimension, right? There’s no one around to hurt you. And you’re in the basement that no one except your family knows exists. No one could get to you if they tried. And logically, w-we couldn’t hurt you either. We’re just twelve and you’re a cool space cowboy scientist that managed to destroy Bill. No one in this family, especially us, would ever want to hurt you anyway because we trust you, Grunkle Ford. We love you and we trust you.” He gave a soft smile to the terrified man under the desk.

Grunkle Ford didn’t react to the words.

The hyperventilating and shaking and the pressure of fixing this was freaking Dipper out. He didn’t know what else to do. So he just kept on stuttering assurances that it was safe and everything was okay. It wasn’t working.

Mable stood to the side watching everything, guiltily thinking about everything she did wrong since Grunkle Ford came back.

Then she had a brilliant idea in her thinking organ.

Mabel realized that they hadn’t been showing Grunkle Ford that they loved and understood him nearly as much as they’d been telling him. So maybe Grunkle Ford didn’t think they really meant it when they said they loved him anymore.

Turns out that micro analyzing your past can be both self-destructive and incredibly enlightening.

Mabel straightened. She pulled Dipper aside and quietly explained her plan. Without any better ideas, Dipper nodded and texted everyone so they knew what to do. He left the basement and came back with pillows and blankets and couch cushions. Then Dipper gently piled them around Ford. It wasn’t nearly as good as the blanket piles Grunkle Ford made for them, but he hoped it was good enough.

Mabel sat down a few feet away from the desk where Grunkle Ford could see her. She produced knitting needles and three balls of yarn out of thin air and began quietly knitting, the motions so familiar she could do it in the dark.

Dipper sat across from Mabel, making sure not to block their Grunkle under the desk and make him feel trapped. He took out a small reading light, grabbed Journal One from on top of the desk, and began quietly reading.

The only sound that filled the air was Grunkle Ford’s erratic choked breathing, the occasional turning of a book page, and the rhythmic click-clack of knitting needles.

Click-clack click-clack click-clack

A page turned.

Click-clack click-clack click-clack

A page turned.

Click-clack click-clack click-clack

The kids kept it up as they heard Grunkle Ford, still tense and shaking, begin to breathe in time to a rhythm of the clicks and clacks.

They sat there until the door opened. To the twins' surprise, it wasn’t Grunkle Stan or Soos or Wendy that walked through the door. It was Old Man McGucket. Without being told what to do, the town kook quietly sat in the corner where Grunkle Ford could see him without feeling trapped by him. He then pulled various small tools and tiny machine parts out of his long white beard and silently put them together with a happy smile on his face.

Click-clack click-clack click-clack

A page turned.

Grunkle Ford tried to inhale and exhale in deep breaths to the pattern of clicks and clacks and sort of succeeded.

McGucket assembled a tiny little machine. It was round and produced a small yellow light. When he let it go, the machine floated in the air, a small source of warm light in the dark room. He let out a pleased hum and began assembling another one, then another, and another.

The door opened again for Stan. His knuckles were wrapped in bandages and he looked exhausted both physically and emotionally. Stan came in with a pillow and took in what was going on in the basement before lying down on the floor and closing his eyes. He still couldn’t fall asleep given the situation, but he could at least try to get some rest.

Soos followed Stan in with a plate of dinosaur shaped cookies. Wendy came in with a stack of magazines and sat next to Dipper to read them. The carefree chill vibes she brought with her were very reassuring.

Click-clack click-clack click-clack

Soos passed out the dinosaur shaped cookies that were not only delicious but also filled the room with a wonderful cinnamon and fresh cookie smell. Soos left the last couple cookies on the plate and placed them in front of Ford so he could eat some if he wanted too. Ford didn’t look like he’d eaten much the last few weeks.

Ford’s eyes kept alternating between darting back and forth and staring into space, desperately trying to stop his head from spinning. He looked at the cookies. He was so hungry and they smelled so good. Was he allowed to? Was he worthy? Why would they give it to him when he didn’t deserve it? The pack didn’t love him that much, did they? It was a trick, wasn’t it?

Click-clack click-clack click-clack

A page turned.

Click-clack click-clack click-clack

Old Man McGucket finished building his tiny glowing machines. Dozens of little orbs of yellow light filled the air, lighting the room in a soft, warm glow as they idly floated back and forth. McGucket let out a happy sigh and stared at the lights with a blank yet content expression on his face.

Happy smells filled the air and no one asked anything from Ford. They just stayed with him.

Ford was overwhelmed with the familiar feeling of wanting desperately to be a part of the pack and simultaneously wanting to hide away from the unfamiliar situation he had no place in.

Click-clack click-clack click-clack

Ford took deep, deliberate breaths and focused on the rhythmic sound. In the soft glow of the room, he could see that everyone was relaxed. Stan was even sort-of-asleep. This place was…this place was safe? Everyone was safe? Why weren’t they mad at him?

The lights were pretty. It smelled good. The room was quiet but not the kind of tense quiet that was dangerous. Ford reached out to the fabrics one of the cubs brought him and gripped it in his hand. It was soft. It smelled like the pack. He found himself absently gripping the soft material and shifting it around until it felt sturdy and safe. A little barrier between him and the world.

Everyone stayed in the room for a long time, doing their best to make the atmosphere quiet, cozy and calm. They didn’t talk to or even look directly at Ford, letting him come out of his shell and trust them in his own time, but staying right there with him.

Click-clack click-clack click-clack

Ford finally stopped shaking. At one point when no one was looking, the last of the dinosaur cookies disappeared from Soos’ plate. Ford kept breathing with the sound.

Click-clack click-clack click-clack

Surrounded by the pack, Ford drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Stan stayed with his brother as he slept the rest of the day and through the entire night. The grifter didn’t have the heart to disturb his sleep. Judging by the bags under Ford’s eyes, he needed all the sleep he could get. Now the early morning sun shone outside, not that anyone in the windowless basement could tell. That's what Stan’s watch was for.

Ford stirred into wakefulness slowly, his thoughts sluggish and sleepy, and his limbs heavy and warm. It was the best night of sleep he’d had since…since the last time he had a good night of sleep. Were his muscles supposed to feel this loose and relaxed when he slept?

Ford shifted in the soft nest and shook himself awake. His eyes blinked open and he looked around. There was Stan practicing card tricks and there were the two cubs were sitting on Mabel’s huge unfinished knitting project as they rubbed the sleep from their eyes and there were-

Half the pack was gone

His sleepy brain snapped awake. His head swiveled back and forth looking for them and he knew they were there before the air still smelled like cinnamon and cookies the orbs of light still floated in the air where did they go where-

At the sound of a distressed whine, Stan rushed over to the desk his brother was hiding under. “Woah woah. Easy, tiger. It’s just us, remember? Take a breath.” He noticed how Ford’s gaze kept returning to the spot where Soos, Wendy, and McGucket were yesterday. “Everyone is fine, I swear. They had to go home, even the old kook. He said something about his raccoon wife getting lonely or whatever.”

Ford purposefully slowed his breaths. It made sense. Fiddleford’s raccoon wife was a needy spouse that loved to complain. Soos and Wendy left everyday and as much as Ford hated it he understood why they left. This was normal and they were always safe when he hid in the trees and checked on them. It still didn’t stop him from worrying.

A hoarse, unused voice croaked out, “S-s-safe?”

Stan knelt in front of Ford and looked his brother in the eye, then firmly yet softly replied, “They are perfectly safe, and so are you. I promise.”

The pack was safe because Stan was a good pack leader and if he said they were safe then they were, but Ford wasn’t so sure he was safe. Stan’s shoulders were tense and he was looking Ford straight in the eye. Why is he watching me? Was he mad? His teeth weren’t bared. Stan had to be mad at Ford for some reason. Ford deserved it. He wasn’t fit for the pack and he tried so hard to make his brother happy but no matter how hard he tried nothing ever worked. Not even leaving worked, so what was he supposed to do now?

Ford shrinked back and curled up submissively. His eyes were fixed on the floor and his whole body began to tremble again. His twin hated him and nothing will ever fix it.

Dipper came over to Stan’s side. “Grunkle Stan, I don’t think he understands what you’re doing.”

Stan threw his hands into the air and tried to keep his tone of voice calm. “I can see that, kid. But I don’t know what the heck I’m doing wrong!”

“Maybe it’s the way you’re telling it,” Mabel suggested.

“Or maybe Grunkle Ford just hasn’t acclimated to the way we communicate yet,” Dipper thought aloud.

“Or maybe he’s just hungry,” Mabel said. “It’s a lot harder to think straight when you’re hungry. I’m hungry too. And besides Soos’ cookies, I don’t know when the last time Grunkle Ford ate was. When was the last time you ate, Grunkle Ford?”

Ford pointedly looked away.

Stan’s stomach agreed with his grandniece. “Well it’s worth a shot. We all gotta eat anyway.” Stan got up off the floor and cracked his back. Turns out sleeping on the basement floor in your senior years was not a wonderful experience. “I’m gonna head upstairs and make breakfast. You kids figure out how to get this nerd to the kitchen. You’re better than me when it comes to dealing with him anyway,” He grumbled, trying to wipe the hurt expression off his face. It just left him looking sad.

Before he opened the door, he stopped and turned to his twin. “I mean it, Poindexter. You’re safe now, and so is everyone else. You have nothing to be afraid of anymore. I’m so glad we found you again.”

Stan opened the door and left the basement. He didn’t see the look on Ford’s face or the way he reached out to Stan as he walked away.

Stan was just turning off the stove and pouring breakfast into bowls when he heard the kids come into the kitchen, coaxing Ford along as he trailed behind them, encouraging him the whole way. Ford followed the kids and looked at them like they were the center of his whole world.

Once he registered Stan’s presence, Ford froze in the middle of the kitchen and swiveled his head back and forth as if unsure where he was supposed to go.

Stan set four bowls of oatmeal on the table and told his brother to sit with them. Ford stiffly sat in the only empty chair. Dipper and Mabel sat on either side of Ford and Stan sat across from him. Ford looked down and fixed his gaze on the bowl, curling up as if wishing he could hide from Stan’s line of sight.

Ford stared at the bowl of oatmeal in front of him. There was fruit mixed in it. His eyes widened.

“The berries you kept leaving us are delicious!” Mabel grinned as Ford. “We’ve been putting them in our food and I made a pie with them last week. Everyone loves them!”

Dipper paused shoveling breakfast down his throat. “Eat some with us, Grunkle Ford!”

Was it Stan’s imagination or did his brother's eyes look shiny for a moment?

Ford took his first bite of oatmeal and the Pines family ate breakfast together in an almost comfortable silence. Despite starting last, Ford finished his breakfast first. Once Ford realized the oatmeal was his, he’d clutched the bowl close to his chest and ate like a starving animal. It was how he’d eaten meals with them ever since he stepped out of the portal. As far as odd behavior goes, Stan didn’t mind this one. It’s not like there wasn’t a time a few decades ago when he treated his food the same way.

When Ford finished and started to leave his seat, gazing suspiciously at the doors and windows, the kids started talking to him again, keeping his attention and telling him about everything and nothing so that he remained at the table with them.

Mabel told Stan about her theory of Ford not feeling as welcomed as they said he was while Ford was sleeping last night. The more Stan thought about it, the more it made sense. Stan felt like such a terrible, dumb brother.

Stan finished his breakfast and shoved the bowl to the side. “Stanford,” He started. Ford watched the kids like they were the most interesting things in the world but he still wouldn’t look at Stan. That was okay. Just as long as Ford heard him. “Ford, I really think we need to talk. About a lot of things. Probably multiple times. Whenever you’re ready. Preferably sooner rather than later.”

Ford’s face closed off at this statement.

“But we don’t have to do that today. You just came back from weeks living who-knows-where outside and doing who-knows-what. Let’s just take a day to relax and be happy that you’re back with us.”

Ford squinted suspiciously.

“We don’t have to talk about things right now, but I have something to say and I need you to listen. That’s all I’m asking for today.”

Ford looked down. The kids smiled at him in reassurance. Mabel once again procured knitting supplies out of nowhere and resumed the knitting project she’d been working on the night before. Dipper opened a book and pretended he wasn’t listening to the conversation.

Stan decided not to look Ford in the eye this time, as much as he wanted to do it to drive the point home. Stan looked at his twin's shoulders instead. He had to be patient. He had to be calm. He had to be clear and specific.

Stan began, “I think there’s been some miscommunication between us lately. I don’t know what exactly has been miscommunicated because I have no clue what goes on in that nerd brain of yours, so I’m going to be as clear as I can and say exactly what I mean, and hope for the best I suppose.”

Ford braced himself.

“I love you, Ford. I never stopped loving you. Until we talked right before Mabel’s sock opera, I thought it was you who’d stopped loving me.”

Ford blinked.

“I’m not gonna lie this time. In the 30 years I spent trying to get you back from the portal, I kept playing out this fantasy in my head about how our reunion would go and what life would be like with you again. It kept me going when times were hard, you know? And I was so wrapped up in that fantasy that when you came back and didn’t say what I thought you’d say or do the things I thought you’d do, I felt lost. I thought you hated me for taking your identity and home and your entire life. Then I thought you were kicking me out of the house-”

The kids suddenly looked very alarmed.

“And I was under the impression it was you who wanted nothing to do with me. So I got angry at myself for not being good enough and I took it out on you when I should have talked to you and cleared up that miscommunication from the beginning. I’m so s-s-sorry for that…I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being there for you. I’m sorry for not talking to you sooner. I’m sorry for spending so much time wishing you were the kid I missed that I forgot to accept the person you are today. I’m sorry for screwing everything up again. I’m sorry for letting myself get so angry that I didn’t notice you were hurting so badly. I should have known better. Especially since I know what it’s like to be a homeless vagrant. I know what it’s like to go hungry and to always be on the alert because you don’t know what’s out there, and to constantly be running from danger, and having to do truly desperate things to survive. And you went through 30 years of that. I can’t imagine what else happened in that portal that makes you act the way you do but I do understand that things like that…it changes you and it’s not your fault. You are not lesser for it and I don’t love you any less because of it.”

At some point, Ford looked up and gazed wide-eyed at Stan. Stan tilted his head up and returned the gaze. They made eye contact and Ford didn’t flinch away this time. Stan ignored how wet his twins eyes were getting (His own eyes were not also getting wet, his eyesight was just getting blurry for no particular reason. Stupid old man eyes.) and continued, “I don’t know you anymore, Ford. But I want to learn. I want to know who my twin is again, and if you want to, let you get to know me again too. I haven’t been the brother you deserve but I want to make it right. You’re part of the family. We all want you here. I want you here with us. Whatever we do, I want us to do it together because I love you, ya knucklehead. So-”

Stan sniffed. “So quit being stupid and running away all the time.” His lips trembled as he tried and failed to hold back the water his eyes were sweating for no reason.

Tears flowed down Ford’s face as his shoulders began to hitch in silent sobs. The two cubs scooted closer to him and his chest felt warm and tight, but in a good way.

Ford reached out and grasped his brother's hand where it rested on the table. He squeezed it and his brother squeezed back. Ford cried and for the first time in his life, there were happy tears flowing down his face.

Somehow, for some reason, his pack brother really did want him after all. The cubs loved him. Stan loved him.

Ford was standing awkwardly behind the door to Stan’s office. Stan was inside, and he wanted to spend time with his brother but he didn’t know how. The rules for following along with social interactions were so complicated and initiating them was so much worse. Stan said he wanted to initiate further attempts at bonding but Ford had to show that he was both willing and capable of doing the same. What did people in this dimension consider a bonding activity anyway?

Ford prowled back and forth in front of the closed door. He couldn’t mess this up. He couldn’t mess this up but what was he supposed to do-

“‘Sup, Mister Doctor Pines.”

He froze. Where did Soos come from? If Ford didn’t know any better, he’d suspect that Soos spent some time in Dimension JPN-12 learning the stealth techniques of shadow warriors, or learning the hunting techniques of the chameleon cats in Dimension AT/la.

“You need help with something? You look like you're torn between a lifetime of loneliness and an overwhelming fear of the unknown.”

Ford tilted his head. He had to respond with words. But what did he say?

“Mister Pines doesn’t mind being interrupted while he’s working, ya know. Sure he acts like he’s too busy for it sometimes, but he actually enjoys the company. Just open the door, dood.”

“Soos!” Dipper’s voice yelled out from downstairs. “The golf cart broke for no reason and we need help from someone who won’t ask questions!”

A grave expression overtook Soos’ face. “I am needed elsewhere. May you make the right decision.” Soos then dramatically walked into the shadows and disappeared from the hallway. After a moment of staring at the office door, Ford heard Soos call out from a distance, “The right decision is opening the door!”

The door. Opening. Stan wouldn’t be mad. Stan wanted to spend time with him. He said so. Right?

Then again, he thought Stan wouldn’t be mad when he offered to take care of Stan after summer ended, or when he brought home a cycloptopus for dinner, or when he disappeared. Who's to say how Stan would react to his twin’s presence. Certainly not Ford.

Ford’s shoulders slumped. Maybe he should just wait for Stan out here and keep watch for predators.

The door opened and Ford froze as he found himself face to face with his brother. “Are ya coming inside or what?”

That was an invitation, correct? He thought so. Stan was still looking at him. Ford stared at his brother for a moment before slowly following him into his brother’s office.

Stan closed the door behind them and only sighed when his twin immediately inspected very corner of the room before acknowledging Stan’s presence, which Ford did by standing in the corner very still and staring in Stan’s general direction.

Ford didn’t know what to do now. He didn’t know how to bond with his twin. Spending time with his twin used to be as easy as breathing and now there was so much between them and Ford was so different and he couldn’t remember how to breathe when he got too afraid so how could he hope to remember how to spend time with Stan? Maybe he was too broken to learn. Maybe he should go. He was taking up space and Stan might be uncomfortable. Stan was fine without him. Stan was…

Stan was talking to him as he shuffled through papers and piles of cash at the desk. “-got me banned from the state of Florida! So what happened was, I woke up one day and thought to myself, ‘It’s a shame I can’t just ‘accidentally unalive’ people and get all of their money by right of conquest or something.’ And I’m not even talking about the ordinary average Joe just trying to get by, I’m referring to the rich old people all over the state who got their money by stepping on average Joe’s like me and wasted it building themselves 12 private golf courses. What if I want my own private golf course? Anyways, I thought to myself, ‘What if they died and chose to give me, a stranger who they have no reason to like or trust, all of their money.’ That’s when I got a fantastic idea.”

A bit of tension in Ford’s shoulders eased and he stepped closer to the desk where his brother sat.

“So this is what I did. I took some fish heads and used them to pay four hobos to dress up as a barbershop quartet and a little guy to dress up as a baby with wings. Then I took six bats and insulted their mothers until they got really mad. Then me and these guys I paid snuck into beach houses along the Florida coast, and when the homeowner came home I would set these angry bats loose. It was important that there were six bats, not five, because the average Florida man can take down five bats no problem. They’ve got two hands, two feet, and a mouth to attack with, that’s one body part for each bat. But six is too much and they get overwhelmed. So these bats attack these suckers, and when the bats fly off and the sucker’s done screaming, that’s when we tie the little man dressed as a baby with wings to a rope and dangle him from the ceiling like a cherub. Meanwhile, the barbershop quartet starts singing really creepy songs in latin like they’re a choir from Hell. So this guy thinks he’s been killed by a bunch of bats and he’s seeing an angel and devils around him, and he starts freaking out, thinking he’s dead, and begs to get let into Heaven. That’s when I come in and tell him that he can get into Heaven by proving that he wasn’t greedy in life and giving up all his money. And one or two of the suckers we dealt with decided they would rather go to Hell than give up their money, but most of them ended up dragging out all their cash, credit cards, jewelry, weird modern art collections, anything valuable they had and literally laying it at my feet. And it totally worked too. We must’ve gotten over a dozen houses before someone got smart and sent their pet alligators after us while he called the cops.”

Stan laughed to himself as he reminisced on the story and turned to Ford with a huge grin that had Ford freezing in place at the sight of bared teeth. It took a moment for him to recognize that the bared teeth were indicative of positive emotions rather than anger or fear. It was like Mabel. He had to look at where the corners of the mouth were pointing, rather than focus on the fact that their teeth were bared. Ford untensed once again as Stan kept smiling.

Ford gave a small smile back.

Wait a minute! Stan just finished talking and now it’s my turn to say something! Think of something you idiot!

“U-um.” Ford peered at the desk. “Wh-what are you doing?”

I’m no good at this. I am a failure to the pack

Stan looked down and shuffled the papers on the desk. “Just going over figures.” He gave a heavy sigh. “Listen, I know you probably think the Mystery Shack is an abomination to science but it’s an abomination that puts money in my pocket and food on the table. There’s only a couple months left of tourist season and with all the repairs I’ve had to do lately, and after being closed for so long, I have to make the most of what’s left and open up the Mystery Shack again.”

Ford nodded and said nothing.

Stan squirmed. “Okay, whatever it is you wanna say, just say it. I can take it.”

Ford looked at the bundles of cash piled up and the papers full of numbers, calculations and ideas littering the desk and pointed to them. “You are so smart and good at this.”

Ford searched for a pen and a blank piece of paper and began to draw, completely oblivious to the expression on his twins face. When it was finished, the drawing of a creature that looked like a mix between a tree and an echidna was hesitantly presented to Stan and Ford explained, “This-this is a-” He let out a series of clicks and strange sounds that almost sounded like words. “They track you down and…slurp parasites out of you.” He struggled for the words he needed. “...They also…sense brain waves. And emotions.”

Stan stared at Ford in utter confusion.

“We can make it out of sticks? A money-slurping, almost mind-reading, tree animal? As an atteri-attraction. If-if you want.” He ended with a whisper.

Stan beamed.

Ford watched as Soos took out yet another roll of duct tape and dove underneath the golf cart. The not-gopher-man said that he was the Mystery Shack’s handyman, and Soos said that meant it was his job to fix broken things and build the attractions that Stan was too old or lazy to build himself. Ford would never admit it aloud, (not that he said much in the first place) but Soos was remarkably bad at his job.

He shrugged. Soos was pack and both he and Stan were happy. That’s all that mattered. (Even though everything Soos was doing wrong filled Ford with the urge to fix it.)

Soos waved at him. “Hey, Mister Doctor Pines!”

Ford let out a startled chirp and stared at the young man like a confused owl.

“Wanna help me fix this golf cart? You’ve got so many PHD’s, I bet you’re great at fixing stuff. It’s gonna be totally rad when I’m done.”

Was that permission?

Before Ford could decide, Soos pulled out a crayon drawing of the most colorful abomination to science Ford had ever seen. “This is what it’s gonna look like when it’s done. What do you think, dood. We can combine our skills to achieve the maximum amount of ultimate epicness.”

Ford scurried over and looked between the picture and the golf cart. He took a pen out of his pocket and modified the design. Brackets to attach the nitrous boosters instead of duct tape. Alterations to make the cart more aerodynamic. Changing the location of the power cells to reduce the fire hazards. And the necessary adjustments to the golf cart's interior parts for maximum efficiency, of course. Ford always had a soft spot for abominations to science.

Soos and Ford dove underneath the golf cart and began repairs immediately.

Ford peered at the inner mechanisms of the vehicle. He was amazed the golf cart worked this long. It looked like the cubs kept on breaking it faster than it could be repaired. It was almost like they were driving around in places and pulling stunts that golf carts were not designed for.

His pack member actually had a pretty good understanding of how the pieces functioned and how to diagnose the problem, he just forgot some steps and tools when it came to fixing it sometimes. Ford ripped out the duct tape and crooked screws and showed Soos how to properly fix them.

Ford grinned like a madman when he pulled out the nitrous boosters from a dusty old corner of the basement while Soos attached a string of lights and one of those red and white striped barber shop poles to the roof.

They both got a bit carried away with the paint and put an ungodly amount of flames and tigers on the exterior.

There was one mishap when Soos knocked over the tool box and the unexpected, very loud clanging of metal had Ford prowling around Soos for several minutes. Even after Ford snapped out of that state he found himself glancing back at the woods to make sure nothing was there for another hour. Soos was patient and understanding, never getting mad at him for acting stupid.

The two of them were covered in spray paint and engine oil when they revealed their masterpiece to Dipper and Wendy. They had taken the golf cart and modified it to not only handle the wear and tear that came with exploring Gravity Falls, but they also used Soos’ designs to make it look awesome.

“Let’s take this baby out for a test drive, doods!”

The golf cart performed exceptionally well. Soos, Wendy and Dipper were cheering and baring their teeth in the way that showed they were happy instead of angry as the golf cart flew through the air and landed safely on the ground, continuing on at higher speeds and taking tighter turns than any ordinary golf cart was designed to do.

Most importantly of all, Ford spent time with Soos and made something the rest of the pack loved. It was almost enough to make Ford purr in satisfaction.

Mabel came rushing over. “Grunkle Ford! I want you to meet my two best friends in the whole world! I’ve already told them everything about you so don’t worry, they won’t do anything too crazy!”

Ford blinked owlishly at her.

He barely had time to process this information before Mabel ran off to the front door and opened it to reveal two more cubs. They stepped inside and Mabel closed the door and gestured to them. “Girls, this is my Grunkle Ford. Grunkle Ford, these are my bestest friends Candy and Grenda.”

The smaller one with glasses said, “Hello, Doctor Pines. I’ve heard you are like a kitty cat.”

He resisted the urge to run to a small dark hiding spot and nervously crouched down to the cubs’ level. He tilted his head curiously yet cautiously at them. Ford was scared of new people, but he didn’t want to scare these cubs. Cubs should feel safe and protected. And these cubs were important to Mabel

“Mabel told us not to be so LOUD around you, so I’m going to use my INDOOR VOICE TODAY,” The larger cub boomed in a rather loud voice.

Ford’s eyes darted back and forth looking for any threats that might have heard the noise. Maybe this louder cub used the same methods Mabel used to ward off predators and used noise to scare threats away.

After calming back down, Ford slowly moved forward to sniff the two new cubs.

When Dipper went into the attic bedroom later that day he was met with the familiar sight of Mabel, Candy and Grenda doing whatever weird things preteen girls did in their spare time.

What wasn’t familiar was the sight of Grunkle Ford sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by Mabel and her friends. The girls were talking about everything and nothing as they gave Grunkle Ford a makeover, painting his nails, sprinkling glitter into his hair, sewing sequins to his sweater, and painting his face.

Ford sat there with a soft, close-lipped smile on his face, eyes closed and contentedly humming as the cubs had fun around him.

Ford was doing his midnight patrol around the territory when he heard the sound of tiny feet padding down the stairs. He silently rushed over to check on whoever it was and found Dipper getting a glass of water.

The cub was subtly shaking. His eyes were red and his breathing was so even it had to be forced. This was not normal.

Ford rushed over and checked the cub from head to toe. “A-are you sick?”

Dipper relaxed and sat down at the kitchen table when he realized who was with him. “What? No, I'm fine. Just tired.”

“Then let’s go to sleep.”

“No, I-I…” Dipper looked at his feet. “I can’t go back to sleep. I had a nightmare.”

Ford gave a low warble of understanding and sat next to him. He racked his brain for some way to demonstrate reassurance and comfort, but came up with nothing. Okay, so what did he want after he had a nightmare? He wanted a small dark hiding place where he was safe, but Dipper didn’t want that. What else what else what else? After a very long, awkward moment of silence, Ford stuttered, “T-the kind you…you talk about or the kind you don’t?”

Dipper looked up in surprise. “You talked about your nightmares?”

This time it was Ford’s turn to look away. “I wish I did.”

Dipper didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Instead he tightened his grip on his glass of water and focused on the fact he could feel it. He could control it. Mabel would never look at him with that expression ever again. He would never give her a reason to be afraid of him again. All the proof he needed that he was in control was there.

Eventually, Dipper whispered, “I had a nightmare about Bill.”

His Grunkle made another noise Dipper couldn’t describe but before Ford could figure out how to turn those sounds into real words, Dipper started talking again. “I know he’s gone and he’s never coming back. And I know that you’d be there to help if he ever showed his face again. Bill’s not coming back and everyone’s safe and I really am okay. I promise. I sleep perfectly fine most nights. Mabel and I healed up just fine. I’m not usually afraid when I wake up or anything like that. And I only had to deal with him for one day while you had to deal with him for so much longer so…so you probably think I’m being stupid,” Dipper finished in a whisper.

A short growl filled the air. “No,” Ford firmly replied. “Not stupid at all.”

Dipper looked up at his Grunkle. The absolute certainty in Grunkle Ford’s voice and the seriousness in his expression made it hard not to believe him, even if only for a moment. He still felt really stupid though.

Silence filled the air. Ford shifted uncomfortably. Did the cub feel better? Did he need to keep talking? What did he do? How did he stop thinking like a simple animal so he could do this one thing? What did he say what did he do what did he say-

“But I fell for his tricks,” Dipper said after a long moment of silence. “I was trying to figure out why you act like…like the way you do so I could help and Bill told me that he used to be your friend. Bill said that he could tell me what happened to you if I just gave him a puppet and I thought-I thought…I was so wrong. And it was just one day. Everything worked out okay and I don’t know why I’m so…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you with this. You’ve got enough to deal with already. Just forget it.”

Dipper stood up and walked away. Ford gave a little growl and followed the cub as he walked away.

At the bottom of the stairs, Dipper whirled around and faced his Grunkle. “What are you doing?”

Ford knelt down to Dippers level and slowly, so very gently, wrapped his arms around his cub. He pulled Dipper close and folded the two of them into the fabric of his trenchcoat, holding his cub close and securely. Dipper wrapped his arms around Ford and lost control of his even breathing. Ford felt his shoulder get wet where his cub was pressing his face onto Ford’s red sweater. The cub was distressed, and it made his heart twist with the need to soothe his pack and stay with them even though he had no idea how people in this dimension comforted loved ones.

Ford let out a low warbly coo and nuzzled Dipper’s head. Holding Dipper to his chest, Ford stood up and brought the two of them to his new nest he made tucked under the desk in Stan’s office. Soon, the two of them were nestled within the nest of soft things and enveloped in Ford’s trench coat. The older man kept his arms wrapped around his cub. His cub was sad and needed comfort. His cub needed to be safe in his arms and needed to know that Ford loved him. He never stopped the steady stream of warbly cooing and nuzzling.

Eventually Dipper’s tears stopped and he leaned away. Not out of Ford’s arms, but just enough to look at his Grunkle. Another long moment of silence followed where neither of them moved from the nest.

Was the cub waiting for Ford to do something?

Ford did the only other thing he could think of. “...Bill tricked me too. Bill said I could see where weir-where weird things in Gravity Falls came from if I built a portal. Bill said he was a f-friend. I thought he was my friend. I let him into my mind so we could work while I was sleeping.” It was so hard for Ford to find the words and summon the courage to say them, but his cub needed to know that he wasn’t stupid. Or alone.

Ford brought his arm in front of Dipper’s face and pulled up the sleeves. “He lied to me. He possessed and hurt me.” Ford pointed to the scars on his hand and a few of the many scars on his arm. “I was stupid. And scared. And angry. And alone. I…I did not talk to Stan. I wish I had.”

A pair of young, watery eyes roamed over the scars on his Grunkle’s hand and arm before the sleeves were pulled back down. Those same trusting eyes looked at Ford as Dipper said, “W-why did he do all these horrible things to us?”

“He wanted to come through the portal and…and take over the world.”

“But why?”

“I-I don’t know. But he is dead. The portal is gone. Bill will never hurt us again.”

Dipper looked down at his own hands and mumbled, “I know that. I just don’t understand why I’m still so…” The cub never finished his sentence.

Ford nuzzled his cub again and thought for a long moment. As much as he wanted Dipper to forget everything that was upsetting and go back to being happy, he couldn’t think of anything he could say or do to take away a packmate’s bad feelings. What did his packmate’s do to take away each other's bad feelings?

He’s seen Stan try to punch things that looked like threats and Mabel try to distract packmates with things that made her happy, but Ford already killed the threat and distracting Dipper with cuddles did not work. He’d seen Dipper try to fix the problem, but if Ford could take away someone’s fear then he would have taken away his own a long time ago. What about Wendy?

Yesterday Wendy spent a lot of time talking into her cellular phone. The voice coming out of her cellular phone was too quiet to make out any words, but it was loud and fast enough that he assumed the person Wendy was communicating with was angry. Ford watched Wendy for signs of distress, but she exhibited none. Instead she talked about what made herself angry and why the person on the phone was justified in their anger. Wendy reflected the other person's emotional state and shared her own experiences.

It wasn’t like Ford had any better ideas. “...I had a nightmare earlier today.”

Dipper looked back up at him.

“It was dark. Bill’s eyes were watching me. They could see me and I…and I ran and ran. There was no safe place to hide. I was a-alone because my pack was dead. Bill made me kill them. Predators got me and hurt me while Bill laughed and told me more lies. Lies that hurt me more.”

He felt the pair of tiny arms around him tighten as much as they could. “Sometimes I am scared too,” Ford continued. “But a good pack makes it easier.”

The two of them heard a pair of small footsteps wandering down the hallway from behind the closed door. Mabel’s shaky voice called out, “Dipper? Dipper, where are you? This isn’t funny.”

Dipper shuffled around to get up but Ford gently nudged him back into the nest and got up to assess the situation himself.

He peeked out of the door and cautiously sniffed the air before following the sound of small footsteps until he found the bright cub wandering the shack.

Mabel came rushing over. “Grunkle Ford! Dipper’s gone! We have to find him. He could be in trouble. He could be hurt or someone could have taken him or-or-”

Ford gave a reassuring warbly coo and slowly-giving Mabel plenty of time to lean away-gathered the cub in his arms and carried her to the nest where Dipper was waiting.

“Dipper!” Mabel started squirming and Ford let her go. She rushed over to the nest and hugged her brother. “You’re okay! I had this really bad dream where you were screaming for help and I ran as fast as I could but my legs felt like rocks and it was so hard to move and I tried as hard as I could but I wasn’t fast enough and I couldn’t find you and then I woke up but you weren’t there and I was afraid something happened to you again.” Mabel managed to rapidly say all this in only one breath.

Ford desperately wanted to take away all these bad feelings and make sure his cubs felt safe and happy forever, but he didn’t know how. He let out a round of warbly cooing and kept nuzzling her head.

Dipper got up and put his hand on his sister's shoulder. “I’m okay, Mabel. I’ve been right here with Grunkle Ford. Look, he made another blanket pile!”

Ford put both cubs in the nest and placed himself between them and the door. He didn’t know what else he could do to put them at ease or reassure them of his intentions.

Everything was still and quiet for a long moment, but Ford could tell it was the kind of silence that came right before something happened, usually something bad. It was an anticipating and tense silence. Why were the cubs quiet? Did they sense danger? Were they hurt? Did Ford do something wrong?

He turned to them with a questioning gaze and inquisitive chirp.

After another moment, Dipper hesitantly asked, “Grunkle Ford, why do you keep running away?”

Ford was not expecting, and therefore was not prepared, to answer that question.

The smaller cub tensed up. “Do we scare you? Are you mad at us? I-I know we did a lot of things that upset you. I’m sorry for scaring you so many times, and for falling for Bill’s tricks, and I know I was being stupid all those times and I should have known better. I’m so so sorry, Grunkle Ford.”

Ford whined uncomfortably and thought about his answer for a long, tense minute. “...I do not want to run away…I get scared and I can’t think. I know you do not want to be scary, but I am scared of…of everything. I am learn-learning how to not be scared and you are learning how to not be scary. We are learning. I love you both. Always. I’m sorry for making you sad. Sorry. Sorry.”

The tension left Dipper’s body and he sunk deeper into the pile of blankets, pillows and other assorted fabrics

Mabel followed Dipper and made herself cozy in the nest, which Ford certainly didn’t mind, and looked up at the older man. “You’re not gonna run away after this, right? Promise me you’ll be here in the morning. Promise me you won’t leave us again.”

Ford looked her in the eye (because Stan told him that it was a sign of trust or honesty in this dimension) and promised her exactly that. His cubs wanted him nearby after all. Ford swallowed down the stupid tears that kept trying to spill out of his eyes whenever something like this happened.

“Can...can we sleep here tonight?” She asked.

Ford gave the cubs a slow blink and cooed.

“...But this is your safe space and we don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“Always welcome.” Ford said. Then he curled around the two cubs in the nest and wrapped his arms around them in a hug that felt strong and warm and safe.

The three of them settled deeper into the nest and drifted off to sleep together. The cubs fell asleep in record time, feeling the safest they had since Mabel’s sock opera. There were only peaceful dreams for them until they woke up to the sun's rays shining across the room through the window blinds and the smell of stancakes wafting through the shack.

Ford hugged his knees to his chest as he sat down on the carpet next to Dipper. He leaned back against the yellow chair where Stan was sitting (they should really think about getting a sofa) and the three of them watched tv together.

‘He put the old in ‘Old West.’ They call him Grandpa the Kiiid!’

Ford remembered seeing the movie in theaters when he was a cub. He remembered it being better.

Dipper passed the bowl of popcorn over and it took Ford a moment to realize that food was being offered to him. He wasn’t used to that. Sitting here with a pack that he was a part of didn’t feel real. It left him feeling so incredibly happy and at the same time he felt like he would lose it any second because maybe he misunderstood something important again and they were just about to realize that he wasn’t a good pack member and he would lose this forever. Or that something terrible would happen any second now and someone would get hurt or die or be eaten or-

‘Take the popcorn already!’ Ford snapped out of his thoughts. He would spiral later. Right now, Dipper was holding out popcorn and they were watching a movie that reminded him what boredom felt like. It was a feeling he did not miss in the past 30 years of his life.

“Surprise!” Mabel yelled.

Something big flew through the air and hit Ford. A mystery weight trapped him and darkness surrounded him. Trapped trapped need to get out get out trapped danger he snarled and thrashed around until he could throw the trap off him and scrambled away destroy the threat hide traps everywhere eyes everywhere Ford pulled out his gun and scrambled back until his back hit a wall.

Breathing hard and with teeth bared, Ford pointed his gun only to find his grand niece on the other end of it. Where was the threat? Where was the threat?

Ford’s eyes darted around the room, lingering on the doorways and windows as he slowly lowered the gun. There was a threat, right? Where was it?

“Sorry!” Mabel said. “I’m so sorry, Grunkle Ford. I forgot! I just-” She gathered up the trap in her arms and came over to him. “I made this present for you and I got so excited that I forgot that you don’t like surprises. I have to remember to warn you next time and-”

There was no threat? It was just the cub being characteristically loud and scary?

Ford reluctantly holstered his gun and turned his full attention to her. “A-are you okay?”

If Ford were better at interpreting facial expressions, he would have noticed the confusion and concern on Mabel’s face. “I should be asking you that. I’m the one that scared you.”

Ford took deep breaths to calm his racing heart. He leaned in close to her and focused on making his words come out right. “...Never apologize for being loud and bright and scary. It is what makes you strong.” His bright cub could defeat any predator that came her way.

Mabel brightened. “Okay! So, let’s try this again.”

He followed Mabel back to the spot he was sitting before. “Grunkle Ford, I have a surprise for you. I made it with my own two hands!” She presented him with an armful of yarn knit together into a big bundle of something. It wasn’t a trap. It was one of the bright cubs projects. “It’s a blanket!”

Ford held back the irrational urge to cry he had every time the pack gave him something and took the soft bundle in his hands.

“Spread it out!”

When Ford did, everyone in the room admired Mabel’s knitting talent. It was indeed a big blanket, but not just any ordinary blanket. After all, this was a Mabel Masterpiece, and Mabel was the furthest thing from ordinary.

“I made it look like a great horned owl! Grunkle Stan told me that they were your favorite animal, and that was why there are so many owl thingies in the Mystery Shack! The blanket is shaped like big owl wings that you can wrap around you. And I put a hoodie on the blanket that looks like an owl's face. It has big owl eyes and those little feather ear things and it goes over your head like this!” She lunged toward him and reached for the blanket, but managed to stop halfway. “Can I put this on you?”

Ford gave a pleased hum and replied, “Of course.”

Mabel flashed her teeth at him (which was a very good sign for this cub, he remembered that, and it was getting easier to slow down his racing heartbeat whenever she did that) and then a thick, heavy fabric was spread over Ford’s head and shoulders. The hoodie obscured half his vision but surprisingly, his mind didn’t start racing thinking of all the dangers that might be watching him, waiting for a moment like this to pounce. Instead, he felt silly for overreacting. His mind went…not busy.

Ford melted under the weight. It was warm and comforting. The owl design made him smile. The hoodie covered his senses with the smell of his niece and the feeling of softness. It was like his coat; a barrier between him and the world so he could be in the world.

He walked around with that blanket over his shoulders and head for the rest of the day. He would have never taken it off again if he could’ve gone outside without getting it dirty. Mabel’s gift was too good to get dirty like that. Still, he always slept with it in his nests, and continued to wear it whenever he spent the day inside and needed a little help feeling safe even though he knew with absolute certainty that there was no danger around.

Chapter Text

Ford prowled around the Mystery Shack one last time, making sure that nothing was lurking in the shadows waiting to get the pack the moment Ford let his guard down. As satisfied as he could be with the surroundings, Ford double checked that his supplies in his trench coat were replenished and the familiar weight of his gun was strapped to him (it always was, but it never hurt to check again and again and again) before marching across the house. He had to do this before he lost his nerve. Again.

He passed through the living room where Dipper was watching a tv marathon.

“Hey, Grunkle Ford! Wanna watch a 48 hour marathon of Ghost Harassers with me? It’s a show about these rogue scientists from the 1980’s who study and trap ghosts.”

“N-no. I need to do something, and I…need to do it alone.”

“But it’s been raining on and off all day. It’s miserable outside. This is indoor weather.”

“I don’t mind.” Ford truly didn’t. He was used to, and had often experienced, far worse weather than this. “As long as there are no p-painbows,” He added as an afterthought.

He stopped for a moment and turned to Dipper. “Does this dimen-dimension have painbows?”

“Not that I know of.”

Relieved there would be no risk of being turned inside out by the weather, Ford walked away and opened the front door.

“You’ll be back by dinner, right?”

Ford grabbed the doorknob. “Yes.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Dipper reluctantly nodded, and Ford opened the door.

There was a cub at the door. It was the rich blond cub that Ford did not like because she was like the Sibling Brothers, and they were total jerks to him and his brother when they were cubs in Glass Shard Beach.

“I’m looking for Dipper Pines,” The blond cub said.

When a low growl started in Ford’s chest and filled the air, Dipper came rushing over. His cub took one look at the blond cub and said, “You’re the worst,” before slamming the door shut in her face and locking the door.

Satisfied and proud of his cub, Ford huffed at the door and walked the opposite direction. Instead of using the front door he walked past Mabel and her friends who were watching a news broadcast about some party the Northwests were having and made a beeline for the kitchen.

Around the porch, Pacifica watched Ford crawl out of the kitchen window and run off into the trees. She knocked on the Pines’ door again.

The door opened. “Your servant just ran into the woods. You should look into getting a new one. I don’t think he’s stable.”

Dipper crossed his arms and replied, “He’s fine. He does that sometimes. Did you come here just to insult my family?”

Pacifica swallowed her pride for once in her life. “I need your help.”

Unbeknownst to Ford, the cubs were having an adventure with a Class 10 Ghostly Apparition and he would not know about it until tomorrow, when everyone was already home safe and sound and the first thing Ford heard in the morning would be, “Did you know that ghosts can make blood flow out of taxidermied animal heads? And that trees have a psychic connection to other trees?”

But that was a problem for an unsuspecting future Ford.

In the meantime, Ford quickly made his way toward the town dump. He crawled through the rusty fence and navigated through the piles of trash and scrap until he rounded a pile of old broken cars to where he knew Fiddleford’s hut was.

There were two strangers there. And they were spray painting ‘McSuckit!’ onto Fiddleford’s home.

Ford snarled. He charged at the two threats with bared teeth but they ran away screaming before Ford reached them. Did everyone in this town treat Fiddleford like this? Why? If they treated Ford like this, he would understand. But his friend was the kindest and smartest person Ford ever met.

He put a hand on the wall of the hut and gave one last spitting snarl in the direction the threats fled as if to say, ‘I will protect this. This is Mine.’

Fiddleford popped his head out at the sound of the commotion and barely glanced at the word ‘McSuckit’ now painted onto his hut before locking eyes with Ford. “Stanferd!” He grinned.

An excited trill left Ford. All the nervousness fled from him the moment he laid eyes on his friend and it left him wondering why he was so nervous to see him in the first place. They ran up to each other and tapped their noses together, sniffing each other in greeting.

Ford followed his friend inside, taking shelter from the elements with Fiddleford in his tiny hut made of trash. It was an impressively cozy and sturdy shelter considering the construction materials, and who was Ford to judge anyways? His temporary shelters from his years in the portal were hardly better. In fact, they were often smaller and far less sturdy or vaguely-house-shaped. He just wished Fiddleford had the life he really deserved.

And it was all his fault that this was how Fiddleford lived.

He didn’t deserve Fiddleford’s friendship or his forgiveness. Fiddleford would be better off if Ford walked away and never bothered him again. All he did was hurt the people he loved. He hurt Fiddleford so irreparably and thoughtlessly. Why was he here again?

His heart pounded in his chest.

Why was he here? All he ever did was hurt Fiddleford again and again. He should leave and check on the pack anyway. He shouldn’t have left them vulnerable to predators like that. He had to get back to the territory where it was safe and make sure they were okay and-and-and where Fiddleford would be safe from him and-

Fiddleford stood between him and the exit, just enough to the side to make sure Ford didn’t feel trapped, and turned his blank wall-eyed stare toward Ford. He gave Ford a slow, trusting blink.

Ford blinked back.

When Fiddleford’s stomach rumbled, he pulled some dried meat out of his trenchcoat (Stan told him ‘No fresh kills in the house. Or the yard. Or in your pockets. It’s not sanitary.’ but he hasn’t complained about dried or cooked meat) and offered it to Fiddleford. The southern man insisted they share.

It reminded Ford why he was here. He had completely ruined his friend’s life, but Fiddleford still trusted him, even if it was only because he didn't know any better. And Ford owed it to him to at least try to be worthy of that trust until Fiddleford came to his senses and sent Ford away.

The whole pack was safe and happy and healthy, except for Fiddleford. And he was going to fix that.

“I told ya I don’t recall.”

“But you have to remember something,” Ford insisted. “Your mem-memories are in there. Somewhere.”

Ford whined and gripped his hair. “You were your…old self when you had a…moment of clarity. When we met. You told me to not blame myself for-” He gestured to everything around him, including Fiddleford. “You remembered how to find me in the basement. All by yourself. No one told you about the basement. We-we built it, remember?”

Fiddleford suddenly brightened, but not for the reason Ford hoped. “I can buildify all kinds o’ things! Ya want me to hootenanny up a giant death robot?” He began pulling out tools and wires before Ford could answer.

Ford couldn’t hold back the brief, frustrated snarl that escaped his lips.

Fiddleford stopped what he was doing and looked at Ford with a frown. He watched the nice not-stranger named Stanferd (he couldn’t remember when the nice not-stranger told him his name, but he didn’t remember lotsa things anyway) curl up on the ground and look down, hands tugging at his hair.

The mechanic set his robot-inventening thingamajigs down and slowly sat down side by side with his friend. He tilted his head and gave an apologetic whine. “Sorry I keep gettin’ distracted. Imma’ listening now.”

Ford let go of his hair and brushed their shoulders in acceptance. Then he pulled a cubics cube out of his trenchcoat and presented it to his friend. “This is yours,” He spoke in a wobbly voice. “You loved it. I always scramb-scrambled it. You always fixed it. It was fun. One day, you stopped fixing it…because you needed help, and I did not help you. I am sorry.”

Fiddleford took the cubics cube, still unsolved and scrambled exactly as it was 30 years ago, and tried to remember it.

A six-fingered hand reached back into the trenchcoat and pulled out another item. “This is a…a cassette. Of your favorite band. …And-and this is a picture. From college. Of us.”

Fiddleford stared at the photo. The two people in the picture looked happy. His brain started to itch for some reason and he did his best to remember, but came up with nothing except a vague sense of familiarity.

Ford pulled Journal 3 out of his trenchcoat and flipped through the pages, presenting all of its contents to Fiddleford. “This is a picture of you ch-checking my math. And this is the bunker. You designed this bunker. And this is when we went to…to the fair. You loved the pig races. An-and it’s not here but-but we spent Christmas together. You made gloves. I should have given you…I should have…I didn’t… I am so stupid. I was bad and-and you gave me a-a squash but I…I…I-”

“Stanferd. Stop it. You’re hyperbreathilating.”

“W-w-w-w-”

Fiddleford watched as his friend’s eyes became glazed and unfocused. Ford scrambled to a corner and bared his teeth when Fiddleford reached out. So he did what he always did when his racoon wife or Daisy or his other creature friends got like this; He covered them with a box to give them a hiding place to calm down and waited until they weren’t so scared. After they came out he would give them some food.

He took the biggest cardboard box he could find and put it over Ford’s head, then he sat down nearby and began playing soft, soothing tones on his beloved banjo.

Ford paced back and forth as he explained everything he knew in a far more coherent manner. “...You quit. You said if I didn’t turn it off, I would…unleash something bad. Something you saw in the portal. It was the demon that tricked me. He wanted to take over the world and hurt us. You said you wanted to forget it. And then you left. We…we nev-never saw each other again. Until a few weeks ago. You were right. About everything. I turned it off as soon as I got home. And I killed the demon. I promise. But I f-fell in the portal and was stuck for 30 years.”

Fiddleford fiddled with his fiddling tools and trinkets. He didn't like this story very much, and his brain was still itching something awful.

“The memory gun. You made it after the…gremloblin…you said you destroyed it. Maybe you didn’t. Maybe a predator stole it and erased all your memories.” Ford thought for a moment and flipped through Journal 3. He showed the pages discussing what little he knew about the robed figures lurking around down calling themselves the Blind Eye to his friend. “These must be the predators!”

The second Fiddleford saw the society’s symbol, he jumped back and screamed, “AHHHH! The Blind Eye! The robes! The men! My mind! They did somethin’!” This time it was Fiddleford who scrambled into a corner and cowered.

Ford hastily pocketed the journal out of sight in his trenchcoat and growled deep in his chest. “Where are they?”

Fiddleford curled up and whined.

The growling abruptly cut off. Ford choked back the sound with great effort and tried to look as unthreatening as possible. He desperately swiveled his head back and forth, looking for some way to help Fiddleford feel safe again. For lack of any better alternative, he took a big cardboard box and placed it over Fiddleford’s head. Then he anxiously waited.

When Fiddleford finally pushed the box off of him, Ford went to sniff and nuzzle his friend with apologetic whines and reassuring coo’s. Fiddleford sniffed and nuzzled back.

Content that Fiddleford was feeling better and all was forgiven, Ford pulled back. “Sorry.”

“Don’ be. Yer just tryin’ your best ta help. That picture o’ the memory erasing doodad ya showed me looked like it had a memory storage doohickey. If we find the predators, maybe we can find my memories!” Fiddleford grinned and pointed to an old newspaper with the headline ‘Disoriented Man Found At Museum’ hanging on the wall. “Looky here! It’s the first thing I can recall! Let’s start searchin’ there!”

Fiddleford dropped on all fours and ran off toward the museum, Ford following close behind.

The two men snuck in through an unlocked window and prowled through the museum, searching for anything that either seemed vaguely threatening or jogged Fiddleford’s memory.

Ford was on high alert, sniffing the air and watching every inch of their surroundings as they darted from hiding spot to hiding spot. There was a chance that predators lived here, and he had to stay alert and survive. He had to keep Fiddleford safe. He had to make it home to his pack by dinnertime.

It wasn’t long before they spotted a robed figure dart across the hall. They pursued him in a similar way that a lion silently stalks unsuspecting prey, hiding and waiting for the right moment. They stalked the robed figure from the shadows and followed their prey into a room full of eyes just in time to see him press a button on the wall and disappear into a secret passageway in the fireplace.

Eyes.

The room was full of eyes and they were all watching them.

They both knew they were fake but it didn’t stop the way the two of them curled up and crouched down to protect their bellies, or the way they shivered and their muscles clenched with the urge to run as fast as they could, or the way Ford felt exposed and pinned own as his mind whispered, ‘They found you they watch you they see you no escape no escape hide Hide HIDE.’

Fiddleford made no protest at all as Ford herded him away from the eyes. The southern man couldn’t pinpoint why, but the eyes were scaring him too.

Ford wanted to run. He wanted to hide both of them away where it was safe. He wanted to wrap himself in the soft blanket that Mabel made for him. He wanted to go back to his nest.

…But he was trying to learn to stop being so scared. This was for Fiddleford, so he would be brave for Fiddleford. This time, he would be the one to follow Fiddleford wherever he chose to go from here.

Ford looked to his friend and followed Fiddleford back into the room of eyes. Once they made it, they ran for the secret button, slamming it down and bolted into the fireplace as fast as they could. Neither of them wanted to stay in that room a second longer than they had to.

The two of them prowled down the hidden passageway of stone stairs and watched from the shadows as the threats in red robes erased a woman’s memory. The memory was put into a case and was sent through a tube in the wall. The memory gun was put in a fancy box, and the evil pack of enemies disbanded. Fiddleford was shocked at these events.

Honestly, Ford was underwhelmed. This didn’t even register on the list of top 100 strange or dangerous things he’d seen. But he also knew better than to let his guard down and underestimate the threat. That was how you got killed for being stupid.

These threats hurt Fiddleford. That was enough for him to hate them.

When the threats left the room, Ford and Fiddleford cautiously left their hiding space and made their way to the center of the room where the memory gun was. The device was left unattended in a place that couldn’t be easier to find if you put a giant neon sign with the words ‘Memory Gun Here’ on it. The box wasn’t even locked. It was like they were asking Ford to steal it.

So he stole it.

Ford pocketed the memory gun to either repurpose or destroy later. Something told him it could still be useful. Then they followed the tubes up the wall, across the ceiling, and through the museum until they ended in a room that was filled with what was perhaps hundreds or even thousands of recorded memories, each labeled with someone’s name. It could take days to find one person’s memories.

“Honey fogelin’ salt lickin’ skullduggery!”

It was a sentiment Ford agreed on.

Ford’s shoulders slumped as despair began to set in. Fortunately, Fiddleford quickly found a glass case with his name on it. “Looky there, friend! It’s those words that people call me!” He exclaimed with a pleased smile.

Fiddleford jumped over to the statue, and before Ford could stop him and advise that there may be some trap or alarm system, snatched his memory tube up with a cackle. An alarm immediately sounded.

They both jumped and panicked at the sound of the alarm and the flashing red lights.

“Halt! Who goes there!” They heard the sound of footsteps and angry voices approaching the door.

Ford lunged toward his friend and sent the two of them diving into a pile of memory tubes for cover. They disappeared just as the doors swung open and robed enemies stormed the room.

Hide hide hide from the Threat be still be quiet

The robed men glanced around the room, looking more and more confused the longer they looked. One of them scratched their head and asked, “You know that feeling when you walk into a room and you forget why you’re there? Is anyone else getting that right now?”

A series of affirmatives echoed through the room.

“Were we looking for something?”

“Does anyone remember what it was?”

“Maybe it has something to do with the alarm. We should really turn that off.”

“Great idea! Where is the button to turn it off again?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think it’s behind this massive pile of memories.” One of the threats climbed over the same pile of tubes that Ford and Fiddleford were hiding under, sending some of the tubes resting above them rolling down and across the floor. They prayed that they wouldn’t lose their cover and be spotted as they felt the weight of the robed figure press down on them. They stayed very, very still and quiet.

“Found it!” The off button was pushed and the alarm went silent. “Yes! I am a genius!” The threat threw his arms into the air in victory.

And stepped right on Fiddleford’s nose.

Fiddleford shrieked and jumped up, throwing the robed figure off of them and sending all of the memory tubes tumbling down. Ford and Fiddleford were left completely exposed.

“I remember why we came here now! Get them!” In a single breath, the two of them were surrounded on all sides.

Ford crouched above Fiddleford and bared his teeth with a vicious hiss.

Fiddleford crouched below Ford on all fours and tucked his head against Ford’s neck to shield it from teeth and claws and punches. Fiddleford gave an equally vicious hiss. It was a warning that they would protect each other.

After only a moment of hesitation, the Society of the Blind Eye charged at them. The two cornered men snarled and lunged back.

Ford nearly killed someone almost immediately. He really wanted to permanently destroy the threat. These people hurt Fiddleford and they deserved it.

But in between the snarls and punches and running, Fiddleford managed to protest the act of murder and grab the arm holding his gun away from the Threat he was aiming at. Ford didn’t understand what the issue was. They were a threat, and this was the perfect opportunity to get rid of them.

But Fiddleford looked so…he didn’t remember the words to describe it. He just knew that it made him feel a lot of weird things at the same time and as much as he wanted justice for his dear friend, as much as he hated these threats, as much as he wanted so badly to feel their blood drip down his hands, as much as it would solve so many problems, as much as Ford saw no other downsides to murdering the threats right now, and as safer as it would be to end the fight quickly using lethal force…

Ford never wanted to see that look on Fiddleford’s face or hear his voice sound like that ever again. So Ford switched his blaster to the stun setting and got back to fighting.

The entire Society of the Blind Eye was spread out across the floor, all of its members knocked completely unconscious by a combination of the stun setting on ford’s gun and blunt head trauma from more hands-on methods of subduing predators.

The two of them gathered up everyone and dragged them into one pile. They wouldn’t hurt anyone Ford loved ever again. They were not allowed to touch his pack.

Fiddleford was the one who decided they could use the memory gun one last time. They dragged the bodies out of the secret passageways below the museum and sealed the entrances. Then they went about removing the red robes and anything that could be associated with secret societies from the sleeping individuals.

Ford stepped away from the bodies and let out a deep, furious growl as he turned the dial on the memory gun. He spelled out the words ‘Society Of The Blind Eye’ and pointed the memory gun at them. With the pull of the trigger, the threat was neutralized.

He pocketed the memory gun and with one final spit in the group's direction, Ford walked away and pulled Fiddleford into a nearby hiding spot in the vents where they could observe the threats for another few minutes.

One by one, people began to wake up as the effects of the stun blasts wore off. They wandered around in a daze with no clue how they got to the museum or why they were there.

Eventually they dispersed. As Fiddleford waved goodbye to them from the vent cover, Ford was able to take a deep breath and let some of the tension leave his shoulders.

Without a threat to occupy his senses, his mind drifted the memory gun in his trenchcoat.

Fiddleford pulled the tube of his memories out of his dirty overalls with a wide smile. “What nice folks them people are without those scary robes. Now how do ya open this doohickey?” He tried to bite the tube but it failed to pry it open.

He was so tired of talking today, but he managed to spit out a few more words. “T-there must be some device to rea-read the memory tubes downstairs.”

Excited by the promise of answers and the new safety of the museum, Fiddleford zoomed back downstairs and madly ran down the halls with a less-blank-than-usual look in his eyes, cackling and hamboning as he searched the underground tunnels.

Ford followed him distractedly, half focused on the weight of the memory gun in his pocket.

He should smash it on the ground right now. The invention was dangerous. It hurt too many people and it should’ve been destroyed a long time ago. The effects of the memory gun were never studied in a controlled environment and the results were therefore unpredictable. What’s even worse was that it had to be used by people, and people far more unpredictable.

Ford pulled the memory gun out and turned it over in his hands in contemplation. So why was he hesitating? Why was there a little voice in his head insisting that there was a use for the device?

He wished he had the owl blanket Mabel made so he could wrap it around himself and listen to Stan’s stories. That always made him feel better (except when there actually was a threat lurking in the shadows and he couldn’t afford to let his guard down, even if nobody else saw it).

He wished he could be the pack member his pack deserved. He wanted to stop needlessly worrying his pack and go everywhere they wanted to go and do everything they wanted to do. He wished that he could leave behind the last 30 years of nomadic living and crippling loneliness so he could act normal. He wanted to gather up all those bad memories and throw them away or burn them or…

Oh.

He quickly shoved the memory gun back in his pockets and turned a corner to see Fiddleford standing before an old computer with a compartment to insert memory tubes. The joy on his face was gone, and the heart-aching blankness clouded his eyes again.

Unacceptable. Ford approached and let out a soft questioning noise.

Fiddleford gave a short whine and held the tube in a white-knuckled grip. “I’m not so sure ‘bout this no more. What if I don’ like what I see?”

Ford put his hands over Fiddleford’s and gently guided them forward, placing the memory tube into the compartment.

Together they watched the series of recordings on the screen. Apparently, Fiddleford was the one who founded the Society of the Blind Eye and he was the one who accidentally erased his own memories. The two of them watched as Fiddleford spiraled further and further into the broken man the townsfolk called Old Man McGucket. And it was all because of Ford’s mistakes.

It was…distressing.

Ford stared blankly at the screen as the recordings ended and were replaced by static. He kept staring as his friend took the memory tube and stuck it in his overalls. It became very difficult to see past the water building up in his eyes. He was so sick of crying. Why did this keep happening? How did he make it stop?

“S-sorry. Sorry. I’m so sorry, Fiddleford. I-”

In the blink of an eye, Fiddleford’s gaze cleared again. His eyes were focused and full of emotions that Ford wasn’t any good at interpreting, but he didn’t look angry. Was that a good thing? Fiddleford waved off his apologies and even though Ford didn’t know what he was thinking, something about his friend’s face felt soft and safe. It was just like his Fiddleford.

Fiddleford waddled over to him. “Aw, hush. You helped me git my memories back jus’ like we wanted. I can feel my brain tryin’ to remesmberize already. Imma gonna find out who I really am thanks to you.”

“But I did this I let this happen I-I-”

“Pardon me if I’m wrong, but you ain’t one to take credit fer someone else’s work. So why are ya doing it now?”

Ford bared his neck and curled in on himself in submission. He looked at Fiddleford in confusion.

“‘Member what I told you? I said that I had a feelin’ I did all this to myself, and what happened ain’t yer fault. And I was right!”

“B-but I hurt you. I d-drove you to…”

“And then ya found me again and fixed it.”

Ford guiltily whined and gripped the fabric of his trenchcoat where the memory gun hid underneath it. The action and vocalization did not escape Fiddleford’s notice. The southern man slowly shuffled forward and nosed his way under the trenchcoat.

He pulled out the memory gun, gave it a long scrutinizing look, and carelessly threw it over his shoulder. The memory gun hit the stone walls and smashed into a million little pieces. “Forgettin’ our problems ain’t gonna fix nothin’,” Fiddleford declared. “That there device never really helped me. It just let me ignore my realer problems. Forgettin’ don’t make you any less crazy, so maybe I should try somethin’ else.”

Fiddleford gave Ford a hopeful look. “Maybe we could try fixin’ our crazy together.”

When they finally left the museum, they reluctantly tapped their noses together in goodbye before rushing back home. Fiddleford rushed back to the dump so he could tell his raccoon wife about the day he had and try to remember more things in the security of his familiar safe space, and Ford rushed back to the Mystery Shack and crashed through the front door just in time to see Stan putting dinner on the table. The pack was so happy to see him again.

They didn’t see each other everyday after that. Sometimes they were spending time with their own families, both animal and human, and couldn’t make time to visit. Sometimes there were bad days when Ford felt like the world felt too big and too dangerous to leave the safety of his territory or leave his pack by themselves. Sometimes Fiddleford remembered something painful and needed some time alone to process it all. But they still saw each other at every opportunity.

They were both crazy, but they could fix their crazy together because they understood each other. They didn’t mind when the other was growly and prowly and had no idea how to interact with society, because they were the same way. Even if they’re lives had been so different.

They didn’t have to act a certain way around the other, so it was safe to squirrel themselves away and fall back to familiar, comforting behavior. And it was safe to try new things and bounce ideas off each other as they sought to improve. Ford helped Fiddleford make reading glasses and find new fishing gear and other gifts to leave at Tate’s doorstep. Fiddleford helped Ford rediscover the joys of science and inventing, and helped him figure out why his pack or the rest of society exhibited certain behaviors and what the best way to respond was. (Some advice was excellent, and some was admittedly more hilariously wrong than anything. Like the suggestion that he should greet new people by screaming ‘hello’ and lunging at them.)

Simply having another person around was an indescribable benefit to Fiddleford, and he soon found himself feeling happier and more grounded than he’d felt in years.

As Fiddleford recovered more and more of his memory, the advice became much more sound. He remembered how to behave less erratically and helped Ford learn to copy him so he could learn at a slower pace that allowed him to gradually learn and adjust. A pace that the rest of the pack struggled to keep because they didn’t think about how or why they did the things Ford struggled with. They just did it.

The more time that passed, the better Ford became at speaking. His entire pack had been talking to him a lot, and kept starting conversations with him. Especially Stan. And Dipper was helping him relearn how to read the English language again. It wasn’t long at all before Fiddleford helped with that too, just like how Ford helped Fiddleford remember how to spell words correctly.

True, there were still bad days when speaking was difficult or impossible, and Fiddleford talked to his reflection for too long before remembering it was only a reflection, but there were fewer of those days as time passed.

Once Stan caught onto the fact that for some unknown reason, Ford actually benefited from having the hillbilly around the Mystery Shack sometimes, he stopped whining about the old kook every time he came over. It wasn’t long before Dipper was asking a slightly-saner Old Man McGucket questions and Mabel was knitting a raccoon sweater for the southern man.

The reward was worth it, because it meant that every once in a while, Stan found the two old men curled up napping in the sun together.

Chapter Text

The Mystery Shack reopened.

Tourists were everywhere.

Ford hated this.

Ford had been told well in advance about when and why the Mystery Shack had to be reopened. He’d even helped Stan and Soos think of attractions. He’d been warned many times that loud obnoxious strangers would be hanging around the house and talking to Stan, Wendy, Soos, and the kids when they were working. He'd been told exactly what it would look like and why it was necessary and that no one was in any real danger.

Yet, the reality of what it would be like didn’t really hit him until he was looking at it. Loud smelly buses bringing crowds of strangers and dangers to his territory and they were all looking at his pack.

Ford glared at them from the doorway blocking the gift shop off from the rest of the house and hissed. He couldn’t trust any of these people.

One of the dangerous strangers looked at Ford and waved as she bared her teeth.

Ford bared his teeth back at her in a warning.

That was when Dipper and Mabel rushed over to herd him up to the attic, where they set about their mission to keep their Grunkle as calm and distracted as possible. They had prepared for this.

“Grunkle Ford, why don’t we go upstairs,” Mabel softly said. She and her brother grabbed the edges of Ford’s trench coat and dragged him up the staircase and into the attic. He followed after a few firm tugs that almost sent him falling. He couldn’t risk falling onto the cubs and hurting them. Ford reluctantly dragged his feet up the stairs, the cubs pulling him along, but he narrowed his eyes and growled in the direction of the crowds the whole way. He didn’t stop until the attic door was closed and the twins kept jumping in his face and talking, making sure that they were in Ford’s view as they demanded his attention.

Dipper shoved a notebook into his Grunkle’s hands. “I wrote down some of my own theories about Gravity Falls! I want to know what you think.”

Ford had to really focus on reading the words so he could give his honest opinion. Once he read through the notes, Dipper kept the conversation going as long as possible. And Ford had fun talking about these things with his cub for a while. When his mind wandered again thinking about all the horrible things the rangers downstairs could be doing to the rest of the pack, Mabel piled her many colorful blankets into Ford’s arms. “Do you want to build a blanket fort with me?”

They did that for a bit. But it did not escape the cubs’ notice when Ford’s eyes lingered a bit too long on the door.

“Hey, check out this board game!”

“Do you wanna color some pictures with me?”

“You’re gonna love this. Here are some pictures of a real living pterodactyl! They’re a little blurry but-”

“Here’s my scrapbook! Let me tell you all about this one time when we-”

“This is a president's key and it-”

Despite the constant unkillable anxiety in his chest and brain, Ford smiled. This was a lot of fun. They were safe up here.

Then Dipper pulled out a flashlight with a crystal tapped to the end of it. “I read about the size changing crystals in your journal and I found them so I could make myself taller than Mabel. But Gideon managed to steal it and used it to try to kidnap everyone so he could take over the Mystery Shack.”

Ford grabbed Dipper’s shoulders and leaned in close with a very serious expression on his face. “What?”

His nephew blinked. “We never told you about Gideon?”

Ford shook his head.

Mabel crossed her arms and exclaimed, “Lil’ Gideon’s a big jerkface! But he’s also in jail now, so it’s all good.”

Ford started growling and glaring out the window again.

“The important part is that he can’t hurt us anymore, and he was never really good at hurting us to begin with. There was one time when he threatened Grunkle Stan with a jar of termites and when the termites were released, they ate Gideon’s hair instead!” Dipper and Mabel broke out in laughter.

Between Ford’s confusion at the uproarious laughter and the uproarious laughter itself, no one noticed Gompers sneaking into the attic bedroom. Gompers was very sneaky sometimes.

Mabel gasped out in between breaths, “Gideon and Grunkle Stan were like-HAHAHA-like that cartoon about the-hehe-the cat who’s always trying to eat the mouse-HAHAhahaha-but he can never get the mouse!”

“Grunkle Stan even chased him off with a broom. Repeatedly! HAHAHAHAHA!”

The laughter died down after several minutes, and Ford failed to understand what was so amusing about the situation.

Dipper finally stopped laughing and held the flashlight up again. “So let me tell you about the story behind this thing. It started when-HEY! Gompers, give that back! How did you even get in here!?”

Gompers grabbed the flashlight with his mouth and bolted out the door.

Dipper gave chase, his Grunkle and his sister following close behind. Dipper chased the goat down the stairs, through the living room, and out the door. It was lucky that Gompers chose to avoid the side of the house where the tourists were and opted to run into the empty backyard instead.

Dipper caught up to the goat and grabbed one end of the flashlight, starting an intense tug-of-war with Gompers who refused to give up his new battery flavored snack. Dipper pulled as hard as he could, struggling to rip it out of the goat's mouth. “Give it back, Gompers!”

Ford and Mabel grabbed the goat and tried to pull him the other direction.

Somewhere between all the pulling, Gompers teeth shifted, and he bit down on the button.

The flashlight shone directly on the goat. Faster than anyone could stop it, Gompers grew bigger than a car, bigger than the Mystery Shack, bigger than the trees, and he just kept growing. It wasn’t until Gompers let the flashlight drop from his mouth that it finally stopped. The flashlight shattered when it hit the ground.

With an ear-shattering bleat, Gompers marched off toward the town in search of another snack.

The three humans on the ground stared at the giant goat and the broken flashlight with wide, panicked eyes.

“Who’s up for finding a new flashlight and crystal?” Dipper stiffly asked.

The three of them managed to make a new growing and shrinking flashlight. That was the easy part. The hard part was chasing after a giant goat that, thanks to its enormous legs, effortlessly outpaced them all.

With a little help from Ford’s expertise in traps and ambushes, they did eventually manage to shrink Gompers back to normal, but not before many townsfolk were severely traumatized and several buildings were eaten.

Many of the townsfolk learned that day that the eyes of the devil were yellow, with uncaring rectangular pupils that held no soul within.

When all was said and done and Gompers was changed back to normal, Dipper asked, “Should we be worried about the prison? Gompers ate a lot of the walls.”

Mabel waved him off with a confident grin. “Nah. I’m sure the police have it under control.”

On the other side of town, Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland turned off their radios because they were busy getting ice cream to celebrate surviving the giant godzilla-goat.

“STANFORD PINES!!!”

Both Stan and Ford jumped up at the girlish shriek. Ford jumped under the table and crouched down, scanning the room for the source of the high-pitched scream who knew his name who was it how did the threat know who he was?

Stan put down his cards and groaned. Family Poker Night would have to wait for whatever this was to go away. “I know that voice. Isn’t that little troll supposed to be in prison?”

“I told you we should’ve been more worried about the prison!” Dipper told his sister.

She retorted, “Oh, so now it’s my fault the police are bad at their jobs?!”

Ford put his hands over the cubs’ mouths and pulled them under the table with him. He pulled out his gun and tensely waited for the predator to reveal itself. He had to protect the cubs. He had to keep them safe. The pack was here and they were happy so he thought they were safe. He was wrong. He had to do better. He had to find the predator find it find it make it go away.

Stan avoided Ford’s hands reaching out to yank him under the table with everyone else and opened the door. Standing there was a 10 year old in a bright blue suit who stared Stan down with a look of pure hatred. “Stanford Pines, we meet again at last! For years I have been rotting away in prison without any hair products! Look what you’ve done to my hair-”

Stan sipped his can of soda. “You’ve been in jail for two months.”

“SILENCE! You took everything away from me! I had the journals and I was this close to unlocking the secrets of this stupid Shack! I was going to rule over the people of this backwater town! I was going to be their god, with Mabel as my queen!”

Mabel hid deeper behind Ford’s trench coat.

Ford tensed, ready to pounce at the tiny almost-adorable threat.

Stan slammed the door in Gideon’s face.

Unfortunately, they could still hear Gideon’s annoying voice as the child slammed his tiny fists against the door. “No!!! You will fear me! I am not someone to be trifled with! You will all feel my wrath! I will end you, old man! I will take everything you love and once I find the secrets hiding in this building I will burn the Mystery Shack to the ground with you inside! And don’t think I forgot about you, Dipper Pines! I will destroy you! No one will ever find your body because there won’t be a body left to find by the time I’m through with you! And then no one will stop me from taking Mabel as my bride! I’ll make her love me, and I don’t care what I have to do to do it! No one will stop me from-”

Ford swung the door open and launched himself at the annoying cub with a deep thundering snarl.

“AHHHH! Who are you!”

Stan saw no reason to stop his brother. “Fight fight fight! Fight fight fight!”

Dipper joined in with a smile as the two of them watched Ford beat the living snot out of a ten year old. They cheered in unison, “Fight fight fight! Fight fight fight! Fight fight fight!”

Gideon squealed and tried to squirm away, only for Ford to drag him back by the ankles. With a furious snarl that sent the little primitive animal part of Gideon’s brain screaming that this was a dangerous predator with teeth and claws and that he was about to be eaten, Ford slammed the cub back to the ground and pinned him down with a single foot. Between one blink and the next, Gideon was staring down the barrel of some strange sci-fi gun.

“Wait, Grunkle Ford! Stop!” Mabel ran over and grabbed her Grunkle by the arm.

Ford stared Gideon down as he made a sound halfway between a warning growl and a confused whine.

“I know, I know. Lil’ Gideon is a big jerk and we all hate him. He deserves a lot of things, but death isn’t one of them. And you don’t deserve to get arrested for killing a ten year old. Let's just call the police and they’ll take him back to prison.”

Ford shifted back and forth, keeping a foot on a very uncomfortable Gideon to prevent any chance of an escape and counterattack. Finally, he turned to Mabel and regarded her with a very serious expression. “Mabel. This…annoying cub will hurt us. I have to eliminate the threat. I have to. It will keep the pack safe. Stan will hide the body.”

Ford pointed to where Stan was already getting his body-hiding kit out from the secret compartment under a nearby rock.

“But it’s not right,” Mabel protested.

Ford tilted his head in confusion. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Dipper joined his sister with the broom in hand. “I’m not so sure about this either. Gideon definitely deserves to get the tar beat out of him, and you did that. He deserves to go to jail for a very long time, and all we have to do to make that happen is call the police. And besides, everyone in town knows he’s a fraud so no one will listen to him. We took Journal 2 away from him so he can’t use your old research to hurt anyone. And we have brooms to fight him off. See?” Dipper hit Gideon with the broom as he tried to wiggle away. “He’s not a threat anymore. He’s just a playground bully.”

Ford slowly lowered his gun with great uncertainty. He didn’t know why any of that mattered, but it mattered a great deal to his cubs. Maybe he and Stan could kill the threat behind the cubs’ backs. He glanced over at Stan, not knowing how to proceed.

Gideon took the opportunity to squirm away, covered in blood and bruises and bite marks. He dodged Dipper’s broom swing and screamed, “My face! It’s ruined! Y-you'll pay for this! I don’t know who you are,” His pudgy fingers pointed at Ford. “Maybe a clone of Stanford or a robot or some kind of shapeshifter. It doesn’t matter! Y’all think you’ve won, but I have one more trick up my sleeve!”

Gideon pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and dramatically shouted to the sky with a vengeance, “Triangulum. Entangulum. Meteforis dominus ventium. Egassemsdrawkcab egassemsdrawkcab egassemsdrawkcab egassemsdrawkcab egassemsdrawkcab!”

Nothing happened.

“W-what?! Why isn’t it working? Where’s Bill? What did you do?”

The Pines family smirked. Stan took the broom from Dipper and gave the little twerp a whack on the head. “He’s dead, you little fungus. Shattered into a bazillion pieces. Disintegrated into nothing. So what’s your plan now?”

“No! No no no no! How can he be dead? He was…he’s…is this why he hasn’t been returning my calls?”

Dipper pulled out his phone and called the police.

Ford tilted his head and considered the annoying threat. He tried to summon Bill. Was the annoying cub tricked too? What did Bill do with him? And was that a page ripped out from one of his journals?

Ford lunged and snatched the summoning page out of Gideon’s hands, then he crumpled it up and fed the paper to Gompers. He was definitely not feeling pity toward the little threat. Not at all. And he definitely wasn’t feeling guilty either. It’s not like he intentionally gave a cub access to the demon that haunted approximately 67% of his nightmares. That would be ridiculous, especially because this was still a threat to the pack.

“Hey! Give-” Gideon froze. He didn’t know how he didn't notice it before. The hand that snatched the paper away had six fingers…

Ford jumped away from the goat when Gideon suddenly squealed, “IT’S YOU!” Ford looked at the annoying cub again and saw that Gideon’s whole demeanor had suddenly shifted. He didn’t know what emotions the annoying cub was expressing, but it made him feel very uncomfortable.

Stan snickered at the reverence and hero worship written all over Gideon’s face.

Gideon fell to his knees and gazed upon the man who just tried to kill him in total awe. “The Author of the Journals…” He whispered.

Mabel grabbed onto the end of Ford’s trench coat as her Grunkle backed away in discomfort. Dipper walked up to Stan and whispered in his ear that the police were on their way so he should probably put the body-hiding gear back in its hiding spot.

The annoying threat was apparently highly offended by this. “Don’t you know who this is?!? This is the Author! The smartest man who ever lived in Gravity Falls, and probably the entire world, and he unlocked secrets your puny minds cannot possibly comprehend. He was so great that he attracted the attention of the most powerful being in the universe; Bill Cipher. You can’t just touch his clothes like that! Or ignore him! You’re not worthy.” Gideon reverently padded closer to Ford and fell to his knees, ignoring the way Ford bared his teeth and crouched above his colorful cub as Mabel hid herself underneath her Grunkle’s trench coat.

Stan stepped between Gideon and the rest of his family. “That ‘Author’ is my twin, and we’re gonna treat him however we want.”

“Lies! The Author could never be related to the likes of you, Stanford Pines!” The ten year old venomously spat, then turned back to Ford with adoration. “Oh, great and wise Author!” The obviously unwell child in a blue suit began again. “Ever since I found your second journal-which was stolen from me by the way-I have followed in your footsteps. I desire to know everything you do. To learn of your secrets, gain your power, and follow your guidance. Let me become your apprentice, and maybe together we can bring Bill Cipher back and-”

Ford growled, “Stop.”

Gideon finally shut his mouth.

“Stop. My name is Stanford Pines. That is my twin, and his real name is Stanley Pines. Mabel is my grand niece. Dipper is my grand nephew. This is my pack. My family. You hurt them. You are a threat to them and I hate you.”

The kid’s face warped. “I-I don’t understand. You said in the Journal that family held you back, that you can’t trust anyone, that-”

Ford picked the annoying cub up by the back of his suit and stared him in the eye. “I was wrong. Everything I wrote was a lie. Forget you ever read it. And stop trying to contact Bill. He was never a muse, he was a monster. He hurt me and my pack, so I killed him.”

Gideon didn’t have time to process the fact that Bill was murdered by the Author before he was held inches away from the Author-Stanford Pines (who wasn’t Stanford?) and was forced to look the older man directly in the eye.

There was something dangerous in those eyes. Yes, there was intelligence, but also something wild and angry and dangerous. Maybe even inhuman. A deep growl that made the hairs on Gideon’s neck stand on end and sent shivers down his spine became the only thing the ten year old could hear, and Gideon was scared.

Actually, Gideon was terrified. Everything he thought he knew was wrong, and he suddenly realized that he was in very real danger. As he saw the protective rage in the Author-Stanford’s-face, he realized that there was no chance of winning against this man. He would never get his vengeance on the Pines family or win Mabel’s love. The Author hated him, Gideon had nothing, and suddenly he did not want to be anything like this broken man.

“If you ever threaten my pack again, I will tear out your throat.” Stanford Pines bared his pointed teeth at him and snarled as if to prove his point.

Something was deeply wrong with the Author. “W-w-what happened to you?” Gideon’s voice shook.

“I followed the same path you're walking right now,” The older man growled.

Gideon did not move or speak as the sound of police sirens grew closer and closer.

Gideon stared at the grey cell walls in deep thought.

His cellmate, Ghost Eyes, had been captured and was currently being escorted back to their cell in handcuffs. He could hear Ghost Eyes’ protests all the way down the hall. “Quit shoving me! Violence only perpetuates violence. The system is corrupt and you have no reason to keep me in here. The government's need for control and the means they use to enforce it is simply a shoddy attempt to follow the panopticon model, which has resulted in obstruction of free will and privacy in this modern age!”

The prison guard gave a tired sigh. “You stole a monster truck, drove it through the mall, and caused about 4 million dollars of property damage by joyriding through the inside of the mall while throwing pamphlets for a made up religion called ‘Gideonism’ in people's faces and punching everyone who refused a pamphlet. Then you broke a police officer's arm and threw him out a window.”

“People will always remain blind to truths they don’t want to see!”

The cell door locked shut.

Ghost Eyes regarded Gideons black and blue face. “Yeesh. What happened to you?”

Gideon mumbled, “Violated a restraining order. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Ghost Eyes sat down and put a hand on Gideon’s shoulder. “I will always respect you, Lil’ Gideon. You make life in prison worth living. Anything you need, contraband, a loyal army of minions, a shoulder to cry on as you acknowledge your deep insecurities and childhood traumas, I am here for Lil’ Gideon.”

“Thanks, Ghost Eyes.” Gideon stared at the cat poster on the wall. Behind it were hundreds of erased and redrawn summoning circles, all of which failed to get Bill Cipher's attention. At least now he knew why. “...I think I need to rethink some things about my life.”

“Excellent decision. Sometimes the best way to move forward is to look in the past.”

The Pines Family were never bothered by Gideon again.

Ford watched the police sirens fade into the distance, tension lining every part of his body.

Once the threat was gone, Ford abruptly turned and herded Stan, Dipper and Mabel back into the Mystery Shack. He slammed the door shut and locked it tight. With a low growl, he patrolled the entire shack from top to bottom and peered out the windows in suspicion. He had to keep his loved ones safe and happy. Nothing else mattered. What good was he when he couldn’t even do that?

Ford was not prepared when the annoying little threat invaded the pack's territory. He was startled and failed to react as quickly as he should. It could have cost the pack everything. Stan and Dipper could have died, and Mabel could have been stolen away. All because Ford was stupid enough to relax. Because he was foolish enough to let his guard down. Because he allowed himself to feel safe.

He couldn’t make that mistake again.

Chapter Text

Stan watched Ford anxiously prowl around the shack with more patience than most people thought he possessed. He followed some advice the stupid books about feelings had about acknowledging the fact that he felt guilty for shoving his twin into the portal and making him like this, without making poor decisions based around that guilt.

At least this time he knew what was happening with his brother. Ford felt like everyone was in danger and he was patrolling the area to reassure himself that everything was safe. He probably even hated himself for allowing Gideon to knock on the door in the first place.

While he let Ford get this anxious prowling out of his system, Stan and the kids got ready for another game of Let’s Try To Calm Ford Down Before He Gets The Dumb Idea To Run Away And Starve Himself Because He Thinks He Deserves To Suffer Again.

Stan locked up the Gift Shop and went to the kitchen and pulled a bag of jellybeans out from the cabinet. By the time he made it back to the living room, Ford was pacing back and forth in front of the door. Small whimpers could be heard as his brother began to spiral.

He held out the bag of candy. “Hey, bro. Ya want some jellybeans?”

Ford didn’t even glance at him.

Stan loosened his shoulders, trying to give an air of calm as he carefully approached his twin. He slowly reached out, making his movements obvious and predictable. As much as he hated the thought, Stan had to approach his brother like a scared wild animal, because that’s what he was right now. Once he had a hand on his brother’s shoulder, Ford stopped pacing, his eyes still frantically darting across the room. But when Stan looked at Ford’s eyes he could see that Ford was aware of his surroundings. This wasn’t as bad as the Theatre Incident.

Stan held the jellybeans in front of Ford and gently asked again. “Ford, do you feel like eating some jellybeans?”

Ford stared at the bag for a moment before shaking his head ‘no.’

“That’s okay. Do you wanna-woah!”

Ford grabbed him and half carried, half dragged his brother to the nearest corner of the room. Ford pushed Stan’s chair from its usual spot in front of the tv to the corner, squishing Stan into a semi-dark small space. The only reason he tolerated it was because fighting and yelling would only freak Ford out.

Ford crouched in front of his brother and sniffed the air as he surveyed the room. Then he bolted upstairs and came back with the twins in his arms. Ford gently put the kids in the corner with Stan before crouching between them and the small opening between the chair and the wall. He glared at the rest of the room in suspicion. Maybe Ford’s mind wasn’t quite as present as Stan thought.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Alright, kiddos. What did you manage to find before my brother got you?”

After some awkward conversations and a bit of trial and error, the family had managed to create a general idea of a plan for when Ford got like This. The first step was to let Ford find a place where he felt safe. Then they had to make sure they were alone, and be as calm as possible. If they were outside or in town, someone had to stay with Ford the whole time, whether that meant being next to him or letting him squirrel himself away while someone kept an eye on the hiding spot Ford chose for himself. If they were in the shack, then they could leave Ford alone if that’s what Ford wanted. Regardless, the Pines family kept the place calm and quiet-but not totally quiet because that seemed to scare Ford even more. They talked to Ford and each other or did quiet activities, making a steady level of soothing sensory stimulus that Ford’s busy brain could cling to. Once Ford calmed down, head pats and cuddles were usually in order.

There was some variation in the details and thinking on the spot, so it wasn’t an exact method. There were too many circumstances that depended on too many changing things to create a script for this, but generally it was a good place to start. The important thing was to show Ford that everyone was here, everyone was safe, and they weren’t going to leave him alone again, no matter what.

To accomplish this, Dipper and Mabel rushed to get some calming activity while Stan tried to talk to his twin. The kids proudly presented the stuff they managed to grab and hold onto as Ford carried them away.

Mabel held up her yarn and knitting needles. “A tried and true favorite method.” She got to work on knitting tomorrow’s sweater, the familiar and consistent click-clacks filling the air.

Click-clack click-clack click-clack

Dipper held up a colorful box with a grin. “Look what I found in the closet! It’s a 1973 edition of Dungeons, Dungeons & More Dungeons!”

Ford peered at them from the corner of his eye.

Stan raised an eyebrow. “You mean the game that’s mostly math and writing and isn’t anything like the picture on the box?”

“Yes,” Dipper replied with a beaming smile. “Do you wanna play with me, Grunkle Stan?”

Click-clack click-clack click-clack

“Look kid, I prefer to do my dice rolling in Vegas. Besides, only a game designed by nerds would have ‘charisma’ as a fantasy power.”

“But there is so much you can do with high charisma stats. You can persuade others to do your work for you, or charm an assassin so they’ll let you go, or talk your way out of trouble, or negotiate treaties and contracts, or inspire others to form an army under your leadership! The possibilities are endless! If it involves convincing anyone of anything, charisma helps you do it!"

Stan refused to admit that his grandnephew made an excellent point.

“D, D and More D has math, which is super cool, but it’s more than just math. The game is about risk and imagination.” Dipper continued.

Stan looked over at Ford, and saw that his twin kept glancing back and forth between Dipper’s nerd game and the world beyond the corner he shoved everyone into. Everytime Ford looked at the game, his eyes dilated like a cat’s eyes.

He turned back to Dipper, who was looking at him with so much hope and happiness. Stan sighed. “Alright, I’ll try your nerd game. But I’m suing you if the game doesn’t deliver on the risk and imagination.”

This particular game turned out to be the perfect tactical move. No force in the multiverse could distract Ford from his self-appointed missions. No force, that is, except an opportunity to play Dungeons, Dungeons & More Dungeons.

Little by little as the game progressed, Ford focused more and more on the game and soon joined in with a delighted grin. As time went on they needed more space, so they pushed the chair over a little bit, then a bit more, and more, until the family was sitting in the center of the room surrounded by a nest of dice and graph paper and rulebooks.

Two hours had passed and everybody, even Stan, was completely absorbed into the game. Mabel eventually stopped knitting so she could join in on the fun, and she proved to be a worthy adversary to her enemies. No creature in this world or any other plane of existence could predict her.

Ford slowly relaxed and rediscovered what “fun” felt like. It was delightful! And nobody was even scared of the little play growls that kept escaping his throat.

Stan rubbed his hands together in a maniacal super villain manner. “I charm Princess Unattainabelle with my dashing handsomeness and striking youth. Then I convince her to marry me, giving the party access to all her kingdom’s resources and command over her armies.”

Dipper rolled the dice for Stan, who had been revoked of dice privileges after cheating for the eighth time. The small cub threw the dice, and everyone watched in anticipation as the tiny dice rolled across the floor, waiting to see what number they would land on.

Tragically, the dice fell into a floor vent and were lost to the duct system forever.

Thankfully, Ford always carried spare dice with him for an occasion like this. He pulled a bag of dice out of his trenchcoat and proudly presented it to his pack.

Unfortunately, Stan decided that he was the master of his own fate and snatched the bag before Dipper could. Stan chose to roll the dice by turning the bag upside down and dumping all the dice out at once.

“Nooo!” Ford cried and reached out to catch the contents of the bag.

But it was too late. The dice were already falling to the ground, including a certain one in a certain cheap plastic case that opened upon impact with the floor.

With a burst of blue lighting, Probabilitor the Annoying and his three minions, Ogre Minion, Griffin Minion and Hot Elf exploded out of the game and came to life. A nasally irritating voice boomed and echoed across the room, “Mortals of Dimension forty-six apostrophe backslash!”

Ford bared his teeth and pounced on the math wizard, slamming the Threat to the ground.

“Kneel before me and-Ow! OW! OW OW OW! AHHHH! Get it off me! Get it off!”

The Threat shrieked as Ford pinned his limbs down and sunk his teeth into the math wizard’s throat.

Stan grabbed the kids and rushed out of the room to hide them as far away from the scene as possible. He stashed them away and assured the kids that their Grunkles could totally, one hundred percent handle this without any help before making sure they were locked inside. Not that Dipper and Mabel wanted to leave their hiding space and experience this specific brand of adventure. For once, they stayed put.

Griffin Minion grabbed Ford with its beak and pulled Ford off the wizard. Ford grabbed his gun from its holster and shot Griffin Minion. Ford fell out of the creature's beak as it collapsed and focused all its energy on staying conscious and not dying. Deciding that it did not sign up for this level of danger, Griffin Minion dissolved into pure math and willingly returned to its own realm in the game to lick its wounds.

“ENOUGH!” Probabilitor raised his staff and sent a powerful math ray toward his assailant. It blew a giant hole in the wall and sent Ford crashing to the ground. Ogre Minion grabbed Ford by the back of his trenchcoat like one would scruff a feral cat and lifted him up, then used his giant ogre muscles to rip the gun out of Ford’s hands no matter how hard Ford thrashed and tried to hold onto it. Stan rushed into the room with a baseball bat and swung it at Ogre Minion as hard as he could, which caused him to stumble but unfortunately was not enough to make him let go of Ford.

Probabilitor sent another math ray sailing toward Stan, and Ogre Minion grabbed Stan before he could get up too. The wizard, covered in blood and trying to move his neck as little as possible, stormed through the giant hole in the wall, followed by Ogre Minion and Hot Elf. “Ugh! I am so over this! Here I thought, ‘Now here’s some really smart players. I’ll just pop in, have a few laughs, and eat some tasty brains. Life today will be all sunshine and roses.’ But no! And without Griffin, we can’t even fly off with the players and retreat into the enchanted forest!”

Hot Elf asked in a disinterested tone, “Do you want me to find the other two players or something?”

“You know what? Forget it! It’s probably not worth the effort anyways. Let’s just eat and go home.” The wizard settled for the nearest tree on the edge of the backyard and tied Ford and Stan to the trunk, Ford snarling and squirming the whole time. Once they were securely tied, Probabilitor peered at the two. “I don’t think these two are as smart as I thought. This one didn’t use any statistical reasoning or algebraic equations in the game, and this one is clearly more like a dumb animal than anything remotely intelligent.”

Ford bared his teeth and viciously snarled.

The sound was so loud and intimidating that it made the math wizard jump and hold his arms in front of his throat. “Woah! Okay, that’s enough of that.” With a snap of his fingers a muzzle was summoned and buckled over Ford’s mouth. Probabilitor ignored the absolute panic in Ford’s eyes and considered the two for a moment, wondering if their obviously tiny brains would be worth eating. He shrugged. “Oh well, something’s better than nothing. Hot Elf, ready the brain cooking pot!”

“You want to eat our brains? What is wrong with you?!” Stan yelled. He watched the muzzle appear over Ford’s face like his brother was some kind of rabid dog and saw a change in his twin as Ford panicked. Stan saw the instant Ford’s eyes glazed over like he wasn’t seeing what was in front of him. It was hard to describe, but the way Ford held himself also shifted. ‘It was just like the theater,’ He realized.

But worst of all was how scared Ford looked. The way he gave a single high-pitched distressed whine behind the muzzle before he went completely silent and slumped in the ropes, pinprick pupils still focused on somewhere far away. Whatever Ford was seeing or feeling scared his brother so much that he just stopped fighting and tried to protect himself by being as small as possible. Stan wondered for the millionth time what happened to Ford in that portal? Who hurt him so badly? And what kind of sicko MUZZLES another person!

Stan hadn’t been this angry in a long, long time. He screamed, he threatened, he insulted, he struggled against the ropes but whatever magic was holding them together wouldn’t let them slacken. They had to find a way out of here.

Probabilitor put a muzzle on Stan too and his screams were muffled. “You guys have officially taken all the fun out of this! We could have played such a fun game!” The wizard whined. “That’s it! Into the pot with you! Ogre Minion, remove their heads!”

Something in Ford’s gaze shifted.

As Ogre Minion reached out to grab Ford’s head, the terrified man snapped into action. Faster than Ogre Minion could blink, Ford pulled a knife from a hidden compartment in the sleeve of his trenchcoat and cut the ropes open.

The ropes fell to the ground and Stan wasted no time ripping the stupid muzzle off his face before channeling all his anger into punching the Ogre Minion. This thoroughly distracted Ogre Minion from his attempts to recapture Ford and the two of them battled it out. His opponent may have been twice his size and three times as smelly and ten times as nerdy, but Stan had a lot of anger to power his punches. Just like the pterodactyl Stan punched in the face, the Ogre Minion went down after a few real solid hits. He didn’t know if the Ogre Minion was dead and he didn’t care. Good thing there were no cops in the woods.

Stan glared at Hot Elf and marched toward him with raised fists.

Hot Elf let out a bored sigh. “Whatever. I am so out of here. This is lame anyway.” Hot Elf willingly dissolved into pure math and returned to his own realm before Stan could take another swing with his fists.

With that taken care of, Stan turned to help his brother. Except it seemed that he didn’t need any help.

Ford hadn’t even bothered to take off the muzzle before he attacked Probabilitor. He’d just pounced on the wizard and wailed down hit after hit on him before he could react, each blow dealing more than enough dazed pain to distract him from casting some kind of spell.

Probalilitor screamed and cried underneath Ford, who showed no signs of stopping.

Stan was uncomfortably reminded of his time on the streets.

Blood poured down the wizard's face and a couple of sharp teeth went flying to the side but Ford just kept on going long after Probabilitor yielded. And then Probabilitor couldn’t speak or scream at all. All he could do was endure the pain as everything became a white haze of pain and it took too much effort to scream. Stan heard the crack of a jawbone breaking and was torn between wincing in sympathy and laughing at the nerd wizard for getting what was coming to him.

Ford didn’t even slow down on his punches. The fire in Ford’s eyes and the furious, murderous expression on his face (or the parts of his face that weren’t covered by the muzzle) was something that actually almost scared Stan. The thought entered Stan’s mind that Ford might not stop until the wizard underneath him was actually dead.

Not that Stan minded this crazy cannibal dying in the slightest, but this was…brutal. Even for Stan.

When Probabilitor’s face was hardly recognizable as a face, Stan stepped as close as he dared. “Ford!”

His brother didn’t hear him past the red that had overtaken all his senses.

“Ford!” There was no response.

Stan grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled as hard as he could. “Ford! Snap out of it!”

Ford froze and peered at Stan from the corner of his eye. He looked manic, deranged, dangerous, feral…he looked scared.

Stan held eye contact and tried to sound as calm as possible. Do what the books said, it worked at the theater and several times since then. “It’s okay. We’re safe. Let him go, he’s had enough. You beat him and he won’t bother us again.”

Ford tightened his grip on the wizard's collar.

“You beat him. You won. We’re safe now. I promise we’re safe. You can let him go now. It’s okay. It’s okay. You beat him and we’re safe. Let’s go home.”

Probabilitor wheezed with every breath he took. With the assault finally over, he gathered all his concentration and energy to snap his fingers and return to his own realm, dissolving into pure math underneath Ford’s fingertips.

Ford jumped up and swiveled his head back and forth, looking for any other Threats. Stan stayed where he was and let Ford see that there was nothing dangerous out there for himself. “We’re safe now. He’s gone. I promise that we’re safe. Home is right over there, let’s go inside.”

Ford looked at the Mystery Shack not 50 feet away from where Stan was pointing, but didn’t move any closer. Instead, he rushed over to Stan and pressed himself between Stan and the Mystery Shack, letting out a short low growl.

Stan looked at his brother with an expression full of complicated emotions. “You’re not ready. That’s okay. We’re still safe, and the bad guys are gone, so we have time. I’m going to take off that muzzle, okay?” Stan slowly reached for the buckle behind Ford’s head, and his twin gave a hard flinch at the touch. But Stan was slow and gentle and explained what he was doing as he was doing it, so Ford let him try again. He slid the muzzle off and threw it in the direction of the bottomless pit.

Unfortunately, just because the muzzle was gone now didn’t mean that Ford wasn’t still terrified. Ford began to shove Stan past the treeline and into the woods.

“Hey! What are you doing? Home’s that way, poindexter.” Stan automatically tried to plant his feet and push back, never one to be pushed around by anybody except sometimes Soos and maybe Wendy and possibly the kids.

Ford snapped his teeth at Stan and kept pushing.

Not safe not safe not safe not safe not safe have to protect protect protect

His pack brother pushed against him and kept pointing to the Mystery Shack. Why couldn’t his pack brother understand? It wasn’t safe anymore. Too many predators found them and now they had to run.

Run run hide far away hide hide in dark small safe space keep the pack safe run forever

Predators are always hunting you eyes watching not safe hide hide hide

He was stupid enough to let his guard down and his pack almost died because of it. Stan kept saying things like ‘we’re safe now,’ and ‘let’s go home,’ but they were lies. Ford knew better. Ford knew what kind of things lurked in the shadows. Ford had to run and hide everyone far away forever. It was the only way to keep them safe. It worked for him for thirty years and it would work for them for thirty more.

He had to find a new territory. He had to get Stan to a secure location and then he had to figure out where Stan hid the cubs and find Fiddleford and Wendy and Soos and how was he supposed to protect so many people he had to bring them to the new location and protect and provide and nurture he had to try even though he was a bad packmate.

The cubs might already be dead. You left them alone scared vulnerable and predators probably ate them EVERYONE IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU-

His body seized and he fell and suddenly he couldn’t breathe and he needed help no one would help him he was alone again so alone not again no help me please please please.

Stan watched as his twin started to shake so hard he collapsed on the ground and curled up in a tight ball, still shaking like a leaf in a storm. Nothing he said was reaching Ford’s ears and none of the usual methods for his brother's freak-outs were working. He was breathing so hard that Stan was legitimately worried Ford would run out of oxygen and die. In addition to that, Ford was so anxious that it seemed to spill over every cell in his body, permeating the air and making Stan anxious too.

Too anxious to think. He needed a plan. He needed to think but his brother was like this and Stan didn’t know how to fix it. All he could think of was punching whoever did this but that wouldn’t work so what did he do?

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Stan jumped at the sensation and almost threw the phone with how quickly he yanked it out of his pocket. With trembling fingers as he tried to breathe and stay calm because someone had to and it clearly wasn’t gonna be Ford, Stan answered it.

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper answered. “Are you okay? Where are you?"

He took a deep breath and made sure his voice didn’t shake. “Don’t worry about your Grunkle, kiddo. I’m more than tough enough to handle myself. Are you and your sister okay?”

“Yeah. Soos and Wendy found us and let us out. We’re coming to rescue you. Where are you?”

“No rescue needed.” Stan stared at his brother shaking on the ground, eyes totally unfocused on the world around him. “Actually, maybe Ford does, but not from Prolilabatin or whatever his name was. He and his goons dissolved into numbers and returned to their own dimension-thingy.”

There was a moment of crashing and yelling in the background before Dipper spoke again. “What’s wrong with Grunkle Ford?”

Thoughts spiraled so fast he didn’t know what he was thinking. It was all a big tangle of panic-fear-dying-alone-run-help me-badbadbad. Every single ounce of his body was consumed with trying to breathe one time. Another time. Another time. It wasn’t working. Why wasn’t it working? Breathe…breathe…breathe…breathe…breathe…

A voice was talking. Making sounds. He didn’t know what they meant. Something about the deep gravelly voice made him feel not-in-danger. (Not safe, nothing was ever safe. Trust no one. Everyone wants to hurt you.)

A single deep oxygen-filled breath was sucked into his lungs.

Get up. Keep moving. Run.

But he couldn’t he couldn’t he was weak we would die eyes could see him a predator was about to eat him.

Get up. Keep moving. Run.

The not-danger voice was closer. It knew his name. How did the voice know his name? Forget about it. Forget breathing. It’s not worth your time. Only one thing mattered, the thing that kept him moving and alive for 30 years. The one constant in his life. The one truth he lived by all those decades alone on the run. When he had nothing else to live for, he kept going because it was written in his very DNA.

Get up. Run. Hide. Fight. Survive.

He scrambled to his feet, fell down, and settled for crouching on all fours. He had to take the not-in-danger voice and Survive. He didn’t know why he needed the voice to come, he just did.

Stan stayed on the phone with Dipper as he watched his brother try to stumble to his feet, only for his shaking legs to send him tumbling down again. Ford settled for a crouch on all fours and grabbed Stan by the hand, tugging him deeper into the woods.

“Just go along with it,” Dipper instructed. “If this is like the theater, then Grunkle Ford just wants to make sure you’re safe. He would never hurt any of us. Just tell me where you are and we’ll come help you.”

For lack of any better idea, Stan followed Ford without complaint. Well, mostly without complaint. They walked for what seemed like forever, and the fact that every strange noise or rustle in the vegetation put Ford on edge-sending him either freezing and wrapping himself around Stan as he hissed and growled or diving into a hiding spot where they stayed until Ford was absolutely sure the source of the sound was gone-did not exactly speed things up.

After some unknown amount of time had passed, Ford stopped in front of a very small cave entrance and crawled inside. He inspected and sniffed every inch of it, looking for who-knows-what, and Stan let out a sigh of relief that they could finally stop walking now, only for Ford to run off again. Stan groaned and reluctantly followed Ford’s insistent tugging all the way to some hollowed out tree. Ford did the same inspection and sniffing routine before moving to yet another place that they could rest in just fine if Ford stayed still for two seconds.

It occurred to Stan that he’d seen Ford do something similar around the Mystery Shack. Right before Ford built a new nest under Stan’s desk in the office, he’d crawled over every inch of the house doing the same inspection and sniffing routine. After watching his brother crawl into the rafters, kitchen cabinets, under the beds, behind the chair in front of the tv, and several other random places, Stan finally asked him what he was doing. Ford said something about backup locations, and then he chose Stan’s desk as the best place to build a nest. That was where he slept (despite Stan’s best efforts to reintroduce him to beds), curled up to quietly sit with Stan while he was working, and hid when the world became too much.

That must be what Ford’s doing now. Finding multiple nest locations so that he had backups if one location became compromised.

Eventually, Ford settled for a spot and gently guided Stan into an abandoned bear den. He nuzzled and cooed at Stan until Stan nuzzled him back, and then Ford left the den and ran off into the woods alone.

To stay Stan was enthused about staying in a dark dirty hole would be a hilarious lie, but he would admit that it was much spacier than he would have thought. It would be a tight squeeze, but you could easily shove a few people in here

Apparently that was what Ford thought to. He came back with the kids in his arms and guiding three other people along; Wendy, Soos, and Fiddleford who was hanging onto Soos’ back like a baby opossum. All of them looked equally confused and concerned as they were placed into the den with Stan.

Ford placed himself between them and the entrance of the den and watched the outside world with a jumpy look in his eyes, every muscle trembling with paranoia and fear.

They all sat there for a long time waiting for Ford to calm down while they tried to recreate the calming sensory experiences that calmed down Ford when they all got stuck in the basement, but it was difficult when they barely had anything to do. They made idle chatter and did their best anyway. Then they tried snuggling with him, distracting him, talking to him, and sitting with him in companionable silence. Mabel even gave the space gun she found back at the Mystery Shack to her Grunkle Ford in the hopes that having the weapon would make Grunkle Ford feel safer. It didn’t really work. Ford wordlessly took his gun but not once did he move from his post or look away from the dangerous outside world.

It was clear that they would be stuck there for a while when the sun had set and Ford still hadn’t improved.

Fiddleford had sat there happy as can be since he was squeezed inside, perfectly content right where he was. But as the other people in the bear den got more and more worried, especially Stanford, he realized that his old friend had to snap out of the hypervigilant state he was in and let himself relax so that everyone else could relax.

Fiddleford whined in distress-lonely-scared-attention. Ford snapped his head over to the southern man and rushed over, sniffing his friend to figure out what was wrong. Fiddleford leaned into his friend, nuzzling and cooing affectionately. Ford nuzzled back before pulling away, only for Fiddleford to make that same whining sound that had Ford rushing back again.

Mabel caught on to what was going on and grabbed onto her grunkle, nuzzling him as hard as she could. Ford held her to his chest as he crouched over her and nuzzled the top of her head, eyes watching the entrance of the den the whole time.

Fiddleford started purring and rubbed his cheek against Ford’s head so hard that it tore Ford’s eyes away from the outside. Soos, never one to turn down a hug, wrapped his arms around Ford before he could look back.

Everyone caught on to what Fiddleford was doing and joined in on it, each acting distressed when Ford turned away and tried to focus on something else. Soon, Ford was so busy trying to nuzzle and cuddle and warbly cooing at everyone at the same time that he became overwhelmed by more affectionate gentle touch than he’d felt in his entire life, and the smell and sensation of pack and safety and love was all he could sense until he couldn’t help but relax in their hold.

Exhausted, Ford passed out surrounded by everyone he loved, safe and sound in each other's arms.

It took an entire day to convince Ford to leave the woods and go back to the Mystery Shack, and another four days for him to act less like a skittish, territorial alley cat and start speaking again. When he did speak again, it happened out of nowhere.

It was the middle of dinner, and everyone was sitting at the table eating their food. All six of them had been reluctant to leave Ford alone lately, so everyone was gathered around the table with him. Except Fiddleford, who was curled up underneath the table with his raccoon wife, despite being given the option of sitting in a chair.

As Ford sat there staring at everyone happily eating without a care in the world, he suddenly burst into tears and started sobbing.

Everyone got really quiet really fast, and Ford cried even harder.

Stan did not know what to do. “Uhhh…w-what’s up, bro?”

“S-s-s-sorry…”

“About what?”

Ford’s broken response came out in between deep sobbing gasps, “I-I-I am a bad…bad…p-packmate.”

Wendy got up and put her hand on Ford’s shoulder. “No way, man. You’re super cool, and you’ve done nothing except try as hard as you can to help us ever since you got here. You are a great packmate.”

Ford shook his head as tears streamed down his face. “I failed. I failed…over and-and over. I try so hard. S-since you b-brought me here. But I can’t…I c-can’t be who…who you want me to be. Who you d-deserve.”

Mabel came over and draped Ford’s owl blanket across his shoulders, which were shaking with the weight of the sobs. Then she and Dipper gave him a hug.

Stan firmly-and what he hoped was reassuringly-said, “We don’t want you to be anything except healthy, happy and safe.”

Ford just curled in on himself in a submissive position and sniffled as he hid under the folds of the owl blanket.

Stan sighed. “Okay, you’re not in the headspace to accept that right now. Self-loathing will do that to a person. I understand. But it doesn’t change the facts.”

Fiddleford popped out from under the table and said with a happy toothless smile, “Facts! Like how yer my best friend I ever had. That there’s a fact!” He leaned against Ford’s side and started purring.

Dipper exclaimed excitedly, “Or how life is interesting every day because of you, and usually in a good way!”

Mabel joined in. “And that you give the best snuggles ever.”

“You got Mr. Pines to read books and deal with his daddy issues,” Wendy chimed in, purposefully ignoring how Stan narrowed his eyes at her and thought of more grueling chores to make her do during work, knowing full well he couldn’t make her do anything. “You’re an awesome space ninja with mad skills, and like Dipper said, you make life interesting. Everything you do, it’s because you’re trying to help and protect us.”

Soos spoke up with a smile, “I love fixing stuff with you, dood! Everyone loves doing stuff with you!”

“Ford,” Stan gently said. When his brother turned to face his general direction while avoiding eye contact, Stan gave him the facts. Because his twin lived his life around facts, so Stan would keep saying the facts until his dumb brother figured out that the facts were as factual as facts are. “You’re getting better, bro. You really are. But progress ain’t linear and you’re gonna have some really low moments. The thing about it is that as long as you keep on trying, you haven’t lost. Having a bad day doesn’t mean you’re not getting better, and it definitely doesn’t mean we don’t love you…that I don’t love you. Because I do. Love you. That is. Always have, and always will, no matter what you do. We are going to help you feel safe and cared for, no matter how many times we have to do it before you start believing it. And I am going to be with you every step of the way, for better or for worse.”

Chapter Text

The first thing that entered Ford’s mind without his permission when he woke up was, ‘Waste of space. They don’t need me. They’re better off without me. Should have never come out of the portal. Might as well dig a hole, sit in it, and wait to die.’

He’d turned over this sentiment in his mind repeatedly and knew that logically speaking, it was incorrect. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the illogical thoughts or the feelings associated with them from swirling in his head.

Ford slowly pushed himself out of his nest and dragged his feet towards the sounds of the pack finding breakfast and getting ready to start the day. They would be worried if he didn’t come, and Ford didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts.

Everyone warmly greeted him when he stumbled toward them and he was helpless to resist the need to be closer to their warmth. Closer to their love and affection and company. Ford needed them, and sometimes he felt bad because he didn’t know how anyone could need him as much as he needed his pack.

But it was easier to feel wanted and like he’d done something good with his life when he walked into the room and saw the closed off tough exterior Stan always had on begin to melt away into something open and content. Or when he made Mabel smile and laugh. Or when Dipper opened up and they talked about all the things the two of them loved that nobody else appreciated like they did.

The voices of doubt grew quieter as he spent more time with the people he loved, and who so clearly loved him back.

Wendy nonchalantly walked up to the cash register and was only slightly surprised when she found Ford tucked into the small, dark space between the shelves and the cash register. He was fast asleep. He tended to sleep randomly at odd hours and in odd places, but she didn’t mind.

Wendy called his name and Ford, ever the light sleeper, snapped awake. “Did you have a good nap, old man?” After he nodded, she said, “Come on out, Dr. P. The Mystery Shack is about to open.”

Wendy offered a hand to help him out of the shelf, a gesture that Ford did not require but was appreciated nonetheless. Usually, Ford would take the offered hand, but today he made no move to wiggle out of the safe place he found.

Wendy raised an eyebrow. “Alright, man. Do what you want to do. But you are aware that this place is about to get really busy, right?”

Ford nodded, and Wendy crossed her arms in uncertainty. “You’ve never wanted to hang out in the gift shop during open hours. What’s going on?”

She waited as Ford tapped his fingers together and searched for the right words. “Soon, you…will not be around very much…because school starts soon. You work at the cash register. I want to stay here to spend time with you.”

The smile that appeared on Wendy’s face was warm and genuine. “Alright, Dr. P. Glad to have you onboard this trainwreck. I’ll get you a pillow or something to make you more comfortable. What about we do something after work is over, just the two of us?”

Ford immediately agreed. He adored Wendy. She was a strong and capable member of the pack whom he loved very much, but it was hard to think of bonding activities to do with her sometimes. She spent a lot of time away too, either with her family or her friends. As much as Ford whined and worried about her when she was gone, he let her go. Wendy was still a cub but also not a cub anymore, and perhaps this was a gradual and natural separation as she became more independent. Besides, he knew that she could handle herself just fine. Ford felt a lot better about the whole thing once she demonstrated the lumberjack and apocalypse survival skills that Manly Dan taught her.

They spent the next several hours passing snacks and snickering at the customers, which made work significantly more entertaining for Wendy. She looked forward to hanging out with Ford later. Dr. P was weird, but that was what made him super cool.

Ford still gave his pack little things to provide for them and show that he loved them and could contribute to their well-being and happiness. Anything Ford thought might be useful, he brought home. And small things he found that made him think of someone, he gave to that person.

He brought them random things he found in the woods or the town people’s trash cans. Things like flowers, coins, bits of scrap metal or electronic parts, cool rocks, nuts, leaves of interesting sizes or shapes, jars of fairy dust, dead squirrels, berries, mushrooms, little snacks, books, and anything else that Ford thought they might like. He gave these little gifts to everyone he loved, including Fiddleford (who had recently started leaving his own gifts for Ford). Ford would leave them in different spots around the house where his pack would find the gifts. He loved them so so so much.

As much as Stan wasn’t a fan of finding dead animals on the kitchen counter first thing in the morning, he didn’t want to discourage Ford from this. He saw the gifts for what they were, and it was nice to know Ford cared. Besides, Ford was also giving Stan coins and jewels he found who-knows-where too. Who was Stan to complain about free money?

Mabel and Ford liked to sit together and make crafts out of the pretty things Ford left on her bed. Dipper kept everything he was gifted in a box under his own bed, where he hid his most secret and important items. Fiddleford liked to incorporate the scraps he got into his projects, and was eating more consistently than he had in years thanks to the food Ford kept leaving on his doorstep. Stan, Soos and Wendy used what they could and kept what they couldn’t, always appreciating the reminders that Ford cared about them.

Ford looked at the broken shards scattered across the floor in horror.

He was trying to help Soos stock the boxes of new merchandise for the gift shop when he tripped and dropped a whole box of mugs that shattered on the floor. Now he was standing there like a useless idiot because his heart was beating so fast Stan was going to get mad and kick him out he was going to die and why couldn’t he get air when he was breathing so fast?

He broke Stan’s stuff. He failed. He inconvenienced Soos and now everyone would be angry at him. He failed the pack and now everyone would know he wasn’t good enough for them. He couldn’t protect and provide for them. Surely they would reject him and he would deserve it.

Soos saw the broken shards and casually, cheerfully said, “Whoops. Here, Mister Doctor Pines. Let me help you with that.” He pulled out a broom and started sweeping with a smile, humming a little tune.

Stan walked in the room and Ford’s body seized in fear and shame. But his twin barely glanced at the mess before moving on.

Ford slowly realized that he was not about to be rejected or abandoned by his pack. And once his breathing exercises slowed down his heart rate and respiratory rate, he started to realize how silly the notion was in the first place.

“Ya okay, Poindexter?” Stan stopped to ask.

Ford nodded his head.

A couple months ago, Mabel wrote Family Glove Story: A Sock Opera, the greatest sock puppet show ever conceived by man, woman or child. And it pained her to know that no one ever saw how the play ended, especially the two old broken teacups she wrote the play for. So she decided to remedy that.

The theater had banned any and all future performances written and directed by Mabel Pines after the firework incident, so she settled for performing at home in the Mystery Shack with a homemade stage. It was unfortunate that she wouldn’t have nearly as many of the fancy practical effects, live pyrotechnics, lasers and fog machines because they all exploded and their remains were confiscated by the police. But any writer/producer/director/whatever other important and underappreciated jobs there were that was worth their salt knows that the magic is in the story itself, not the practical and computer effects.

So the puppet show was reborn within the Mystery Shack, shown to a small live audience that included her friends, family, and Grunkles. Grunkle Stan sat down with bowls of popcorn and bacon, Grunkle Ford snuggled close to him in his owl blanket, and everyone else gathered in front of the makeshift stage.

The curtains opened and the sock puppet show began from the beginning. It was a story of comedy, heartbreak, tragedy, drama, and reconciliation with 72 musical numbers. It had Grunkle Ford on the edge of his seat the whole time, and Grunkle Stan pretending to not be on the edge of his seat. They totally cried.

Finally the two broken teacups finally saw how the puppet show ended; with two estranged siblings finally reconciling after decades of pain and misunderstanding, and it was the most rewarding ending that Ford had seen his entire life.

The cubs rooted through Soos’ wallet, which clearly meant that they had learned too much from their Grunkle Stan. They found his drivers license and discovered that they had missed Soos’ birthday by a few weeks, which was completely unacceptable. Just the mention of a birthday, much less the Happy Late-Birthday Surprise Party the cubs had thrown to make up for missing Soos’ real birthday, were more than enough to make Soos sad. The cubs were immediately determined to fix that.

That’s why the Pines family, including Wendy and Soos, were here at Mr. Zzz’s Big Gunz Laser Tag, which was a mattress store the last time Ford came here. Ford practically clung to Stan’s back and quietly growled at everyone that got too close as they walked into the building and the instructor told them how to play the game.

Everyone kept asking Ford if he was absolutely sure he wanted to do this. If he felt safe and okay putting himself through the apocalypse scenario in the laser tag room. Ford was fine and he didn’t know why everyone kept asking about that.

Soos was sad, and that was unacceptable. He would endure being in a new place surrounded by strangers if it meant Soos would be happy. And the dim lighting coupled with the fog machines that helped to obscure the many hiding places in the laser tag room were a very pleasant surprise.

“I-I don’t know guys. I’m not sure I’m up for this today.” Soos sadly told the cubs.

“Don’t worry Soos. As soon as you start playing with us you’re gonna have a great time.”

“We promise. No matter what happens we won’t leave your side.”

Ford and everyone else strapped on their vests and took their laser guns. It was disappointing that he couldn’t use his real gun even if he turned on the stun setting, but the pack would not bend on this. Instead, he was stuck with this inferior useless junk of plastic in his hands that barely worked. What was the point of creating a weapon so terrible? And while Ford kept wrestling with this lousy gun, Stan kept talking his ear off about how no one would be in any danger. But Ford knew that now. Most of the time. Unfortunately, knowing that didn’t always mean his feelings knew it too.

When the light on the wall turned green, everyone rushed into the dark foggy room. Ford dove in first, somersaulting across the ground toward the nearest cover. He scanned the area to make sure the path was clear for his pack. He was so focused on the dark room and dodging laser tag shots and scanning for hiding spots that we failed to notice the bright door that Dipper and Mabel disappeared through.

Stan was taken out almost immediately, but Wendy was doing just fine by herself. Whoever taught her to hunt knew what they were doing, which was very reassuring. The cubs must be hiding somewhere waiting to ambush other Pretend Threats. Soos, however, was barely surviving. Everything his sad packmate did was done either half-heartedly or with no training at all. He was loud and easy to find, his shots only had a 35% success rate, and he was very bad at dodging and hiding from enemies.

Ford was hit with the stunning realization that his sad packmate had no idea how to protect himself. Unacceptable. This had to be fixed immediately.

Soos stopped in the middle of the room and gave a heavy sigh. “Who am I kidding? I’m not up for this.” Ford sprang up from the shadows and body slammed Soos, folding him into a tuck and roll towards a nearby hiding spot. Soos sat up and reacquainted himself with his sense of direction. “Mister Doctor Pines? What-” Ford put his hand over Soos’ mouth and shushed him.

Soos was confused. Mister Doctor Pines gave him a reassuring nuzzle and gently guided his hands into the correct position to hold his laser gun. Mister Doctor Pines didn’t look scared or confused, so he followed along. “Oh! Do you wanna team up?”

Ford peered around their hiding spot, and Soos copied him. Together, they looked for the closest cub to pretend-destroy. They saw a target hiding in another structure not too far away, and Soos stood up to take aim.

Ford yanked him back down and froze, listening for sounds indicated they had been spotted and were being pursued by vicious terrifying cubs. Once he was satisfied they were safe, Ford whispered to his packmate. “Never stand up and expose yourself, not even to get a better aim. Never fire until you have a clear target. We will sneak closer and find a better aim.”

Ford crept through shadows, fog and various structures in complete silence. His movements were exaggerated so Soos could observe and mimic the silent way he moved. Every few feet he would stop and wait for Soos to catch up. The two darted into a structure obscured by fog and they had a clear view of their enemy, a teenager wearing a hoodie that smelled like spray paint, axe body spray, and sweat that reeked of hormones and low self-esteem.

“Stop,” Ford whispered in his packmate’s ear. “He’ll see us if we move closer. Be quiet. Stay low. Move slow. He’ll see if you move too fast.” Ford slowly helped Soos into the correct position to aim the gun and hit his target. Ford took a deep breath. Soos copied him and they took the next deep breath together.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Fire.

The teenager’s vest blinked and buzzed to show he’d been hit. As the teenager whined about his defeat, they could hear Wendy laughing nearby. “Hahaha! Nice shot, Soos! You totally took out Robbie!”

Soos fistpumped and said, “Yes! That was awesome! I feel like a ninja. High five, dood!” He raised his hand in front of Ford, and after taking a moment to remember what this hand gesture meant, awkwardly high fived Soos back.

With a little chirp, Ford continued to show Soos how to track down targets, sneak around finding good hiding spots, shoot a moving target obscures by dim lights and fog, how to utilize the environment to your advantage, among other things that made Soos the best 20 year old laser tag player in Gravity Falls. Soos shadowed him the whole way, feeling like a student to a wise and mysterious master ninja.

After the game finally finished, the Lazer Tag employees even updated Soos’ punch card from Good Enough to Great Enough. Then Soos turned to Mister Pines with a big grin and told him all about how Ford was the best laser tag player and teacher in the whole world.

The last thing anyone expected upon finishing the laser tag game was finding out that the two cubs competed in Globnar and won a time wish as a birthday present for Soos, or finding out that Soos’ dad abandoned him. But before he could react to the fact, Soos used his time wish to clean up the cubs and get a slice of infinite pizza.

Ford chirped and trilled in excitement. It was food that never ran out! It was amazing! This was the greatest thing in the world! Of all the infinite wishes a time wish could grant, it was literally the perfect one!

Hands down, it was the best birthday Soos ever had.

Ford stared out the front window and let out a heavy sigh.

School had started today, and Ford was so lonely and scared for the cubs. What if the other cubs and teachers were mean like they were to him and Stan when they were young? What if something happened? What if the loneliness and separation anxiety that he felt never went away and he had to endure it for the 849 remaining school days until they graduated high school?

Stan came by to check on him for the 6th time in an hour, which was how many hours ago the cubs were carried away by a loud and smelly bus that was practically a death trap with all the strangers and the reckless way the driver was driving and the-the-the-

“Hey, Ford. Calm down with the whining. The kids are fine, you know this.”

Ford hadn’t noticed the high distressed whines escaping his throat. His eyes remained fixated on the window, waiting for the cubs to come home. The house was far too quiet and empty without them. Unacceptable. Maybe he should just go and-

Stan caught the look in his eye and the way his body moved and grabbed Ford by the shoulder. “No. We talked about this, bro. You cannot sneak into a Middle School and lurk around spying on kids, even if they’re our kids. It will look really bad if you get caught. I’m telling you that it’s not worth the risk, and that really means something coming from me.”

Ford scoffed. Of course he wouldn’t get caught. He was smarter than that.

He tugged and tried to pull himself away, but Stan’s grip remained firm. A warning growl filled the air between the two of them.

“Hush,” Stan flatly said, calling his brother’s bluff for what it was. The growling stopped and Ford pouted. “I know what will occupy your big nerd brain. We’re visiting Old Man McGucket. Let’s go.” Stan dragged Ford out the door and into the car, keeping a gentle but firm hand on his twin until the car was locked and rolling down the road. This turned out to be a wise decision because Ford did indeed try to pull out of Stan’s grip and run away in the direction of the school.

Ford pouted the entire ride into town. Stan tried to reassure him, “You’re not the only one kinda worried about the kids. I miss them too, but they’ll be fine. They’re tough kids, and they’ve got each other. Of course they’ll be fine.”

Ford knew Stan was right, even if he’d never admit that aloud.

They pulled up to the town dump and Stan watched Ford and Old Man McGucket run up to each other, tapping their noses and chirping happily. He chose to hang out in his car and have some Me Time instead of waiting knee deep in garbage. Voicing his concerns to Ford about hanging out with the town kook just made Ford mad, so Stan would suck it up and let his brother be happy. Stan had nothing against Old Man McGucket personally, he just didn’t want to talk to or hang out with or associate himself with the crazy deathbot-building maniac whom he shared no interests with. So he’d leave Ford to it and learn to tolerate the man. In fact, he’d encourage this because Ford really really needed a friend, even if that friend had to be Old Man McGucket.

And Ford was indeed happy. He reluctantly let himself be distracted by his friend for a few hours before he knocked on the window to the Stanleymobile and said, “The cu-the kids should be home in two hours. We should go, so we are there when they get back.”

Well, the distraction worked longer than Stan hoped, so that was good enough for him. He drove Ford back to the Mystery Shack and sat on the porch with Ford, waiting for the niblings to get home.

The bus finally arrived and dropped the kids off, happy and healthy and definitely not holding back tears or sporting new bruises like Ford and Stan often did when they came home from Middle School. Ford rushed over and scooped them up in his arms, nearly vibrating with excitement.

The kids excitedly talked over one another, competing for attention and excited to get their thoughts out of their brains.

“ThekidsherearesomuchnicerthanthekidsbackinPiedmontandtheschoolevenletmewearmyhatand-”

“LookathowmanyclassesIsharewithCandyandGrendawe’regonnahavesomuchfunand-”

School days became easier after that. As time passed, Ford allowed himself to be distracted by Stan more easily. After watching the cubs leave, Ford would eventually manage to tear himself away from the window and occupy himself with the company of Stan, Soos, Fiddleford, or science. He’d play games, reminisce, and commit crimes with Stan. He’d learn about anime and the latest developments in pop culture with Soos, or listen to Soos wax poetically about his long-distance girlfriend named Melody who was coming back to Gravity Falls in a few months. Ford would also spend time with Fiddleford in the hours he spent waiting for the cubs to come home. They would build things and brainstorm ideas and hunt for scrap materials, or help each other get their heads on straight and vent about their issues while helping Fiddleford recall his memories.

The cubs started coming home with homework in the second week of school, and Ford was more than happy to help them whenever they needed it, especially with math and science. It was surprising for everyone when Wendy showed up at the Mystery Shack one day saying that she needed a quieter place to study than at home with her dad, and that she was wondering if Ford could help her with her math homework. Then she came back the next day, and the next day after that. He was so happy he still got to see Wendy.

As the cubs continued to come home happy and healthy everyday, Ford relaxed more and more. However, knowing that they were indeed doing just fine at school and that they would definitely be back at a specific time didn’t stop Ford from bolting to the porch a few minutes before Dipper and Mabel came home, brimming with excitement as he waited to welcome them home every single day.

Ford bolted left and right through the woods, followed by Dipper close behind. “Look! Question Quails!” He slid across the dirt and landed behind a log where he could observe the birds without disturbing them.

Dipper bounded after him. “The same ones from your Journal?”

Ford nodded.

“Oh my gosh, look! They have babies!” Dipper took the journal the Ford had given him and started to draw the question quails. Mabel got her own journal too, and she chose to write and draw about the people around her and her own interests, while Dipper made his into his own scientific journal/diary.

Once they were done, the two took off in search of further discovery.

“Hey, Grunkle Ford! Look at this mushroom. It’s unlike any mushroom I’ve seen before. Do you think it’s poisonous?”

“I don’t know. Let’s get a s-sample for testing.”

At one point, they caught sight of a group of fairies flying by. Dipper turned to his Grunkle and said, “In Journal 3, you wrote about barfing fairies, but I’ve never seen a fairy barf once. Do you think they’re a different kind of fairy or did they change their diets or were they all really sick 30 years ago or-”

Ford listened to every single one of Dipper’s theories without interrupting or calling him a crazy overthinker. It was really nice, and Dipper felt like someone finally understood him.

They sat down to eat lunch. While they ate, they passed the time by flipping through the additions his grand nephew put in Journal 3. “You once caught a greml-grem-gremgob…”

Dipper patiently waited for his Grunkle to find the words.

Ford furrowed his brows and flipped to the pages he wrote about the gremloblin. “This creature! I could never catch it. You were amazing,” Ford said with pride in his voice.

Dipper ducked his head. “Honestly I was trying to catch a gnome or something like that. I caught it by accident.”

Ford grinned. “Want to see if we can catch one on purpose?”

Dipper nearly vibrated in excitement. “Yes!”

Ford trilled and bounced in joy. “I’ll show you how to track a-and build traps and study anomalies!”

“Teach me everything!!!”

Ford couldn’t wait to show Dipper, Mabel, Soos and Wendy the alien craft underneath the town as soon as he double checked that the security system was definitely shut down and that the aliens had indeed been dead for millions of years.

Wendy shoved Stan towards Ford and put her foot down. “That is it, Mister Pines. I’m not gonna sit here and listen to you complain about how you lost your nerve again. Ask him. Now.”

Ford was confused.

Stan avoided eye contact and tried to make a run for it, but Wendy was blocking the door. Unable to run any longer, Stan turned to his brother and nervously twisted his hands together. “Hey, Poindexter. I-I was wondering if, ummm…no pressure or anything, but would you perhaps, want to, uhh…go…fishing. Sometime. Or something?”

Ford was excited.

“Yes!” Ford exclaimed. He jumped up and ran out the door. “Let’s go!”

Stan blinked and smiled. “Right now? Okay. I’ll uh…go get the fishing gear I guess.”

Gravity Falls Lake wasn’t very busy that particular day. It was quiet, peaceful and relaxing. The first thing Stan did was rent the cheapest small boat that barely any money could buy, then take an extra-wide permanent marker out of his pocket and write ‘Stan O’ War’ on the side of the boat once Tate wasn’t looking.

When Ford saw the words written on the boat, he simultaneously had this overwhelmingly fond and sad look on his face before wrapping Stan in a hug and rubbing their cheeks together. Then he jumped on the boat and untied it from the dock.

They spent hours on the lake talking about everything and nothing, appreciating the scenery in companionable science, and generally having a good time learning how to be brothers again. They even caught a couple of fish and spent some time chasing after a rather fast three-eyed turtle upon Ford’s insistence.

At some point, Stan pulled out his joke book. “Listen to this, bro. You’ll love it.” He cleared his throat. “My ex-wife still misses me, but her aim is getting better!”

At Ford’s confused look he said the punchline again with a huge smile and even more enthusiasm. “Her aim is getting better!”

“Were you married? What is she aiming at you? Why is she aiming things at you? Is it to test your reflexes? Is she practicing her aim or shooting skills? Why is the fact that she is no longer your mate relevant?”

Stan gave a deep-bellied laugh at how Ford that response was. This is what he missed; he and his twin together, all of Ford’s quirks and interests and everything that made him Ford included. Stan gave his twin an affectionate arm punch and, after explaining the joke, said the heartfelt truth, “Glad to have you back. I really missed ya, poindexter.”

Stan did it. He brought his brother back. He helped make things right between them and now here they were. Together. Stan had a family now, and felt more at peace with himself and his life than he thought was possible for one person to feel.

Mabel woke up one morning with a fantastic idea. Said fantastic idea was the reason she and Ford were running back and forth across the house, gathering up supplies from around the house and asking for bedding materials from everyone in the pack.

Ford systematically clipped and tied sheets and curtains on the supports placed around the attic bedroom. Mabel came running over with an armful of fairy lights and strung it on the interior roof of the structure. They filled the inside with all the couch cushions and mattresses in the Mystery Shack, and piled numerous laundry baskets worth of blankets, pillows, and soft clothes on top of them. They gathered stuff from Stan, Ford, Dipper, Mabel, Soos, Wendy, and even Fiddleford.

Then they stashed lots of snacks, water bottles, soda cans, games, the books and magazines that Dipper and Wendy liked, and even Mabel’s radio inside. The two of them shaped and fluffed and reshaped the materials until everything was perfect.

“FAMILY SLEEPOVER!!!” Mabel screamed to the heavens.

Everyone in the pack piled into the giant nest that the attic bedroom had become. It was the biggest and comfiest nest Ford had ever built, with sheets serving as walls and a roof, fairy lights casting a soft warm glow inside, and plenty of room for everyone.

The whole pack stayed in the nest, comfortable and happy. They ate snacks, talked and played games. Fiddleford brought some of his smaller inventions to show everyone and had become significantly better at acting like a mostly-sane person lately. They watched shows on Soos’ laptop and drifted from one activity to another, perfectly content in each other's company. Ford relished in the feeling of being included and wanted that he so rarely felt in his life. He felt like he was a real part of this pack, and that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He felt like he belonged.

One by one, everyone’s eyes began to feel heavy and their voices drifted into silence. They all laid down surrounded by soft pillows and wrapped in warm blankets. Their thoughts became slower and their limbs heavier.

Ford laid down wrapped up in the lovely comforting owl blanket Mabel made for him, surrounded by everyone he cared about. Stan’s arms were wrapped around him and he was clinging to his pack brother's shirt. The cubs were snuggled against his back, and Fiddleford curled himself up at Ford’s feet as he rested his head on his legs. Soos and Wendy were sprawled over nearby, their limbs just managing to drape over Ford.

For the first time since he came back home, every single part of Ford’s mind truly believed that this pack loved him unconditionally, just like he loved them unconditionally. He didn’t have to prove himself anymore. It was okay if he made mistakes or didn’t understand something, because his pack was there with him every step of the way.

Everyone was together. Everyone was here. Everyone was safe and for once, every single part of Ford felt completely and entirely safe and loved. Ford was surrounded by the touch and sounds and smell of his entire pack wrapped around him in this soft warm nest, filling his senses with warmth and happiness.

Ford closed his eyes with a soft smile and felt his heart nearly burst with love. He had no idea how to express the amount of affection he had in his heart, and maybe there was simply no method that existed to adequately convey the depth of an emotion as powerful and consuming as this. But it was okay. It didn’t matter because his pack was here. He was home. His pack was here. This place was safe and they loved each other.

So Ford expressed as much as he could the only way he knew how. He relaxed into the nest and let all his feelings come out in soft rumbly purrs.

It was like his affection and contentment were so strong that they filled his body and spilled out of his chest with each vibrating rumble. The purrs filled the space and grew even louder when the pack tightened their arms around each other.

Ford drifted off to sleep, the rest of the pack following close behind with the sound of soft purring soothing them to sleep.