Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“How are they?”

At the sound of the voice coming from the doorway, Dr. Stanford Pines looked up from where he had been concentrating on treating the severe burns on Candy’s arm to find the familiar figure of Wendy Corduroy watching him expectantly.

Their little band had been travelling through what was once California’s Imperial Valley when they had come across a settlement, essentially a former farming community that had fortified itself. They had managed to barter themselves the use of a guesthouse for a few nights, offering in return assistance in upgrading the settlement’s defenses, as well as two casks of Thompson’s homebrew, and about half of what was left of the cannabis he’d managed to cultivate at their former base.

(Ford has initially been strongly opposed to the young man’s efforts to grow the plant, especially in such close proximity to the children. Thompson and Wendy had teamed up to overrule him however, arguing that, in addition to various other uses, it would make a valuable commodity for bartering when needed. After all, they reasoned, for all the things that had changed since the world ended, peoples’ need to get high had not been one of them.)

(Additionally, Wendy had brought up the fact that she knew Ford’s twin brother had been known to partake from time to time, and hadn’t they done it together when they were young? Ford had not appreciated the implication, despite it being absolutely correct.)

In any event, their offer had been accepted, and Ford had directed the group’s efforts to shore up the fortifications that surrounded the town. It was excellent timing on their part, as the town found itself under attack later that very evening, and the improvements Ford had implemented likely prevented what could have been a large number of casualties. As it happened, there had only been two casualties. Unfortunately, they had both been members of Ford’s makeshift family.

It had been sheer bad luck that Candy and Dipper had been working on strengthening a particular weak point in the fortifications when the attack occurred. It was worse luck that the creature attaching was a particularly large Acid-Spitting Bearsquito. The pair had managed to drive the creature off, but not without sustaining some significant injuries.

With a sigh, Ford turned back to Candy’s sleeping form, continuing his ministrations.

“The burns Candy has sustained are both extensive and severe, but, fortunately, the musculature underneath appears to be unaffected. It will take time, but with appropriate care she should regain full use of her arm without lingering effects, apart from the scarring. Which will be, again, extensive.”

He turned in his chair then, to the room’s other bed, where Dipper lay, flanked by a red-eyed Pacifica.

“Dipper’s burns are less severe, but the problem is, of course, their location. I’m… hopeful I’ll be able to save his eye, though whether he will have any use of it is another matter.”

Wendy nodded at his words. “Pain?”

“Managed, for the moment. Thompson administered a fairly strong dose to both before I began my treatments, so he is reluctant to do so again until more time has passed. He and I are in agreement on this, so if their pain levels rise too much before that time, I’ll likely have Gideon see if he can psychically set up any pain blocks.”

“Makes sense.” Wendy nodded again, before turning to Pacifica. “OK, girl. You’re relieved. Go get some sleep.”

“I’m fine.” Pacifica snapped, not taking her eyes off her boyfriend’s sleeping form.

Wendy was, predictably, undaunted.

“No, you’re not. You’re about to collapse where you’re sitting. We’ve already got two out of commission; we need you to be functional if anything else happens. You need to sleep.”

For a moment, the blonde looked like she might argue the point, before deflating in defeat.

“Fine.” She stood, looking down at Dipper once more before shifting her gaze across the room to where Ford was finishing bandaging Candy’s arm. “But you come and get me if they wake up. Either of them.”

“Promise.” Wendy replied easily, not trying particularly hard to conceal the fingers crossed behind her back. “Now, go get some rest.”

With that, Pacifica left the room, and Wendy moved to claim the seat she had just vacated.

Silence reigned in the room for the next few minutes, as Ford put the finishing touches on Candy’s dressings.

“If it comes to it,” Wendy remarked finally “at least we know the eyepatch look works for him.”

“Oh?” Ford turned to face Wendy and his nephew. “And how do we know that?”

The redhead smiled at the memory. “Long story, but the short version is Stan and Mabel made a bet, and Mabel ended up running the Shack for a few days while Stan went out of town…”

“Wait. Stan left town while he was taking care of the children?”

“Uh. Yeah. Probably wasn’t the best plan, now that you mention it.”

“Did Soos at least stay at the house with them?”

“I… actually don’t remember. I know at least one of those nights he spent in the woods with a pack of wolves, so…”

Ford let out a groan. “I will never, for the life of me, understand why Dipper and Mabel’s parents ever thought Stanley would be an appropriate caretaker for the children, let alone for a whole summer!”

He received a hard glare in response.

“Dude. We’ve talked about this.”

“Sorry! I’m sorry, you’re right. Please, continue.”

“So anyway, a whole bunch of weirdness went down, and we only had one day to make enough money to repair the damage the Shack took and try and help win Mabel the bet. So Dipper goes into Stan’s room and finds a spare suit and one of Stan’s eyepatches, takes the shrink-ray to them to get them to fit, and hits the floor as a kind of mini-Mr. Mystery. It was adorable, honestly.”

Dipper wrinkled his nose at that, as if objecting to being called ‘adorable’ even in the depths of drug-induced slumber.

Ford smiled at that, reaching down to brush his nephew’s hair away from his injured eye.

“I would have liked to see that.”

“Stan should’ve seen it, to be honest.” Wendy replied, looking wistful. “Dipper worked those suckers over so hard, he would have either been bursting with pride, or literally exploded with the pressure of trying not to let it show.”

“Yes. Well, the way Stan and I were raised…”

“Poster children for toxic masculinity? Yeah, I’m aware.”

Whatever response Ford had intended to make was interrupted by a soft knocking on the doorframe. He and Wendy both turned to find Thompson standing there.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” the young man began “but Dr. Pines? There are some guys here to see you.”

“Oh? Did they say what they want?”

“No, but I think one of them is one of the town leader’s sons, so my guess is there here for him.” Thompson’s gaze shifted to his injured friends. “Should I tell them to come back later?”

Ford shook his head.

“No, the two of them should be stable for now, and I should probably speak to whoever is in charge sooner rather than later, in case we end up having to extend our stay. Wendy, you’ll stay with them?”

“Of course.” Wendy answered him, though clearly carrying on one of her silent conversations with Thompson that Ford had never been able to parse. “Just have Gideon check-in with me if you see him, so I’ll have a way to get a hold of you if anything changes.”

Thompson nodded. “He’s just down the street; I’ll let him know.”

He turned to Ford then. “Ready?”

“I suppose. Let’s go see what’s being requested of us.”

He then followed Thompson out of the room, down the hall, and out the front door of the house they currently occupied.

Chapter Text

Standing outside the guesthouse were two young men, both about Thompson’s age, Ford supposed, and both sporting about an equal number of tattoos.

“Dr. Pines.” The shorter one addressed him with a nod. “Boss wants to see you.”

Ford nodded in kind. “Understood. Lead the way.”

With that, the two young men turned and began walking down the dusty street, towards what must have once been the town’s main thoroughfare. Ford made to follow them, noting with little surprise when Thompson fell into step beside him.

He forced down mild irritation at the unspoken implication that he was incapable of dealing with a settlement leader by himself, reminding himself that, were their roles reversed, he would insist Thompson have some backup as well. Besides, the young man was likely under strict orders from Wendy in this matter, and there was never any arguing with her when she’d made a decision like that.

At just what point did my leadership of this group erode to the point where I’m constantly being overruled by a twenty year-old?

They continued down the road, finally reaching what appeared to be the settlement’s old town center. As they did, more and more settlers became evident, going about their business in what resembled a post-apocalyptic facsimile of small-town life. As Ford casually observed their comings-and-goings, he was again struck by the ability of humans to adapt to even the weirdest of realities. How, in a large enough group at least, they were able to maintain so many of the social structures their kind had created over millennia.

It's a survival instinct, he thinks. The drive to hold on to what you can, in the face of all that’s been lost.

He doesn’t know how to tell them they are fighting a losing battle.

As he shook this rather grim thought away, another came to him.

“Thompson,” he begins in a low voice “where is Gideon? I haven’t seen him since last night.”

“He’s around.” Thompson replied, matching Ford’s tone while continuing to scan their surroundings. “He left the house just a bit before we did. Said he was gonna do a lap, maybe a soft scan to make sure there isn’t anything funny going on here.”

Ford nodded at this, reminding himself it was highly unlikely anything would happen to the boy without the others knowing. While the metal plate in his head prevented Ford from receiving any of Gideon’s psychic communication, none of his surrogate siblings had any such restrictions. Here also he reminded himself that at least one of Thompson’s objectives that morning was to make sure Gideon got into contact with Wendy, so she could notify him if anything changed with Candy or Dipper…

… which, he now realizes, is likely another reason Thompson accompanied him. If Ford had been alone, he would have been cut off from any psychic communication.

Should I be proud, I wonder? That the children can set up a sound tactical plan with out a word spoken, and without any direction from me? Is this what this life has made of them?

Before he could follow that particular line of thought any further, it became evident they were arriving at their destination. The two tattooed young men had led them to what appeared to have once been the town’s general store. Sitting at a small table on the sidewalk in front of the building was a dusky older man, likely about Ford’s own age, with black hair greying at the fringes, above a similarly dark moustache.

“Ah, Dr. Pines,” the man spoke, rising at their approach and extending a hand in greeting “I am Alejandro Diego Alvarez. Thank you for coming to see me.”

“Of course.” Ford replied, extending his hand in kind, noting only a brief look of surprise on the other man’s face when grasped it. “I had thought it would be beneficial for us to speak anyway, given everything that’s transpired since we arrived.”

Alvarez nodded at this. “Indeed. Actually, I apologize for not speaking to you when you arrived, but I was otherwise occupied at the time, and then, of course…”

He trailed off there, obviously not needing to elaborate on what had transpired next.

“Of course.” Ford replied evenly.

“But no matter. We are here now. Please, sit.” Alvarez returned to his seat, gesturing for Ford to take the one across from him. “Vatos? Dennos algo de espacio.”

At that, the two young men who had led them there nodded, before heading back down the road they way they had come, stopping when just out of earshot, but clearly close enough that they could be summoned quickly if need be. For his part, Ford took his seat, nodding at Thompson to let him know to fall back as well. The younger man gave him a doubtful look at first, before nodding and complying, walking over towards where Alvarez’s men now stood.

“Now then,” Alvarez began, once the two of them had been left alone “first things first. Your people: how are they?”

“The two who were injured’s wounds are serious, but not life-threatening.” Ford replied, not wanting to give the other man any more information that necessary, while also not wanting to appear withholding. Maintaining the town leader’s goodwill would make Candy and Dipper’s convalescence that much easier. “With time and proper treatment, I expect they will both recover, more or less fully.”

“That’s good,” the other man nodded, eyeing Ford with something of an appraising look “they fought like hell. I’m glad it didn’t cost them more.”

“Yes, well… they’ve had plenty of practice.”

“The boy. He’s your son, no?”

“What?” Ford was caught off guard, though later he’d wonder why. It wasn’t as though they didn’t share the Pines look, after all. “Oh, no. Dipper is my nephew. Great-nephew, actually.”

“I see.” Alvarez nodded again, this time directed at something behind Ford. “What about the one with the painted face?”

“Thompson?” Ford turned in his seat to find the young man in question conversing with the two that had summoned them earlier. The three appeared to be comparing their numerous tattoos.

Ford was not above taking a certain level of satisfaction in noting that, of the three, Thompson’s were clearly of the highest quality.

“No,” he replied, turning back to face Alvarez “no relation there.”

“What about the little blond one flirting with my granddaughter?”

“What?!”

Ford whipped around again, following the other man’s gaze down the other side of the street, where, sure enough, he found Gideon walking with a girl with long dark hair and a bright smile.

“Oh, for the love of… I apologize for him,” he began “I’ll just… Thompso-!”

He was cut off however, by the sound of laughter from across the table.

“Don’t worry about it, my friend.” Alvarez replied, a wide grin spreading out under his thick moustache. “Young people will do what young people will do. It’s what they’re supposed to be doing, after all.”

As quickly as it had arrived, the town leader’s smile faded as he continued.

“One of the few things that hasn’t changed in this world, anyway.”

Not knowing quite how to respond to that, Ford simply nodded. He felt it was probably expected of him.

He turned back then to find Thompson looking at him questioningly, unsure as to whether he was being summoned or not. Ford shook his head in the negative, before cocking his head across the street, where Gideon and Alvarez’s granddaughter remined wrapped up in their animated conversation.

Thompson followed his gaze over to the pair, then responded by rolling his eyes and returning to his conversation.

“Well, be that as it may,” Ford turned back to face his companion “I wouldn’t want him to do anything that would jeopardize your generous hospitality. Especially as the current situation suggests we may be relying on it for longer than we had anticipated.”

“Given that the ‘current situation’ is that two of yours were seriously injured helping to defend my town and people, it would be a pretty shit move for me to suddenly become stingy with the hospitality.” Alvarez noted dryly, before quickly sobering and looking Ford dead in the eyes. “I am in your debt, Dr. Pines, and Alejandro Diego Alvarez takes his debts seriously. You and your people are welcome to stay as long as you need to.”

Ford was saved from having to come up with a reply to that statement when the door behind Alvarez suddenly opened, revealing a younger woman holding a steaming kettle in one hand, and two mugs in the other.

“Ah! Maria, gracias.”

The woman (Maria, apparently) set the two mugs on the table and poured from the kettle a light brown liquid that almost caused Ford’s heart to leap out of his throat.

Coffee!

Chapter Text

The coffee was burnt, weaker than he would’ve liked, and clearly made from middling beans, at best.

None of this, Ford decided as he savored every sip, prevented it from being the most delicious thing he had consumed in years.

Evidently, this was written all over his face, if the knowing look Alvarez was giving him was anything to go by.

“Hits the spot, doesn’t it?” the town’s leader remarked, sipping his own “In the old days, I would’ve poured such a brew down the sink, but yesterday’s over, as they say. It’s amazing what’s become a luxury, after everything.”

“Indeed.” Ford replied, willing himself not to drink too greedily. “Though if I may ask, how did you manage to come by it? Stores left over from before? Or have you managed to cultivate your own beans somehow in this climate?”

Alvarez shook his head.

“Neither. The coffee we get here comes from the trading caravans that come north from time to time. It was likely grown in Guatemala, or maybe Chiapas.”

Ford felt his eyebrows raise at that.

“Is that so? I’m surprised such long-distance trade networks have survived, given all that has transpired over the past five years.”

“Why shouldn’t they have?” Alvarez replied with a hard smile. “They’ve survived a few apocalypses over a few thousand years. The products have changed, and so have the people, to an extent, but they remain nonetheless.”

“I see.” Ford responded, for lack of anything better to say. He took another long sip of coffee before finally settling on:

“Well, whatever the case, I do envy you your access to it, sporadic as I imagine it must be.”

“It does come and go,” Alvarez allowed “but perhaps it could be arranged so that you would have no cause to envy, at least where coffee is concerned.”

Ford felt his brow furrow. “How do you mean?”

“I mean perhaps you don’t need to move on, after your people are healed.”

Well. This is not a turn I anticipated this conversation taking.

Ford set aside his coffee at this, regarding the other man and searching for any signs of an ulterior motive.

“Just to make things as clear as possible, are you suggesting my companions and I settle here on a more permanent basis?”

“I am.”

“I see. Well, with the understanding that our assistance yesterday has bought us a certain amount of hospitality, this offer is of a whole other magnitude. May I ask what prompted it?”

“Pragmatism, mostly.” Alvarez replied, taking another sip of his coffee. “Keeping you all around would seem to benefit us more than it would cost in resources. Your people fight like hell, we’ve seen that already. You are smart enough that you were able to improve our defenses significantly after looking at them for five minutes, so it seems a safe bet your mind could help us in other ways. Even aside from that, the herb you traded us indicates to me at least one of your people has some skill in hydroponics. You can grow more than just dope with that, you know.”

Noting internally another ancillary benefit to Thompson’s cannabis cultivation (though resolving never to admit to it), Ford reached for his coffee, taking a long sip as he processed the other man’s words.

“Alright, I’ll grant that I can see how we would be an asset to your community,” he responded after a moment “one that would, as you say, outweigh the extra resources our presence would cost you. The question then becomes how we would benefit from staying, beyond the time it will take for our injured to heal?”

The other man regarded him for a moment, his face bearing a knowing look that had Ford fighting down mild irritation, before finally replying.

“You’re a nomad, aren’t you, Dr. Pines?”

“I’m what? A nomad?”

A slow nod from the other man.

“These last five years, certainly. And maybe before that too, if I’m not wrong. Always on the move. Minimal attachments. Can’t stay anywhere long enough to get comfortable. Am I right?”

“To a point,” Ford replied, irritation rising “though here is where I point out that it has kept me and my family alive all this time.”

“For what, though?”

“Excuse me?”

“What is your plan, Dr. Pines? What is the endgame in all of this?” Alvarez questioned, spreading his arms. “You’ve done very well, keeping your people alive all this time. Soldiers, if I’ve ever seen any. But don’t you want better for them? Look at your boys.”

Ford turned then, scanning the street for Thompson and Gideon. Thompson, he found first. He, together with Alvarez's two men, had evidently been drawn into an impromptu soccer match with several of the settlement’s children. Gideon, meanwhile, was looking increasingly moony-eyed as he continued to talk with Alvarez’s granddaughter.

“When was the last time either of those two got to play a simple game with children, or to flirt with a pretty girl?” Alvarez asked, rhetorically. “Or any of your other people? The last time you passed through a settlement? What happened next? Right back onto the road, staying alive, but not really living?”

“The world is what it is at this point.” Ford replied, working to suppress a wince as he turned back to face the other man. “Of course, I want better for them, but that doesn’t change the reality of our situation. This is what we can have. That’s going to have to be enough.”

“But I’m telling you it doesn’t have to be.” Alvarez answered with a shake of his head. “You can do better for them. We may not have much here, but it’s something. Life cannot be only about survival, even in these days. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

Ford turned back then. He saw Thompson, laughingly playing in the street with little children in what would almost be a touching scene, were it not for the knife sticking out of his boot and the sidearm Ford knew was hidden somewhere on his person. He saw Gideon, eyes wide with the infatuation of the young, peering out from underneath the bandana he had to keep secured around his forehead when in a settlement, lest his glowing tattoo prompt questions.

He thought of Candy and Dipper then, laying on their beds back at the guest house, badly burned and sedated. Of Wendy, keeping careful watch as always, as she had long since made their care, all of their care, her personal responsibility. Of Pacifica, hopefully getting some needed sleep, but almost certainly too wracked with worry for her friends to get proper rest.

I need to do better. They’ve trusted me, and I’m failing them. Whatever else happens, Alvarez is right. We can’t go on like this indefinitely, and survival is not enough.

“You don’t need to decide right now.” Ford turned to find the town leader regarding him with a sympathetic look. “Get some rest, let your people heal up, and talk to them. Just think about it, yeah?”

“I will.” Ford nodded. “You’re right; this is something I will need to discuss with the others. Regardless, I do thank you for this offer, and for the advice as well. You’ve given me much to consider.”

They stood then, with Alvarez reaching out for another handshake.

“It’s the least I could do. If nothing else, as I said before. I’m in your debt, Dr. Pines. What’s mine is yours as long as you decide to stay.”

They shook hands then, each promising to keep the other advised of any further developments.

With that, Ford turned and began making his way down the dusty main street. As he walked, first Thompson and then Gideon fell into step beside him, each abandoning their prior activity as though they’d been summoned for duty. So it was that Ford made his way back to the guesthouse, flanked by two armed, heavily tattooed young men.

Young men he had armed. He had tattooed.

I will do better for them. All of them. One way or another, I will do better.

Chapter Text

When the three of them arrived back at the guesthouse, Gideon entered first, not bothering to knock or otherwise make their presence known in any way. Ford supposed he must have given Wendy some warning that they were inbound. He followed the boy through the front door, with Thompson bringing up the rear behind them.

Upon entering the house, Gideon made a beeline for the first bedroom, where Ford knew that Wendy was currently sitting with their convalescing comrades. He made to follow, but was stopped short by the feeling of Thompson’s meaty hand on his shoulder.

He turned then, regarding the younger man with a questioning raised eyebrow.

“Nope.” Thompson responded to his unspoken question, just as Ford registered the bedroom door being shut behind him. “Your shift’s over, Dr. Pines. Time for sleep.”

“What are you taking about?” he sputtered in response. “I need to check on Candy and Dipper, make sure their bandages are…”

“No, you don’t.” the younger replied, somehow managing to be both forceful and gentle in maneuvering Ford away from the door and down the hall. “You just finished putting on those bandages less than an hour ago. It’ll probably be another seven or so before they need changed, and Wendy knows how to do it if it needs done sooner.”

Ford made to shake Thompson off of him, and was mildly perturbed when it seemed to have no noticeable effect.

“I still need to check their condition! If they need further care or pain management…”

“If they need something else for the pain,” Thompson cut in, interrupting Ford’s presumably well-reasoned argument “we both agreed earlier that we can’t give them any more drugs just yet. Gideon can step in and do whatever it is he does psychically if they need more in the meantime. They’ve got this, Dr. Pines. Meanwhile, you haven’t slept for something like 36 hours by my count.”

Ford narrowed his eyes at that. “I hadn’t realized you’d been counting, but even if that’s the case, Gideon and Wendy…”

“Gideon and Wendy are both at least a little rested. They went down once we figured out Candy and Dipper were at least stable. We knew we’d need at least some of us to be fresh, so they took the first shift off…”

At this, Thompson’s other hand moved to the center of Ford’s back, as his efforts to direct him down the hall became somewhat more forceful. And effective.

“… since we needed you to take care of their burns, and there was no real way Pacifica was going to leave them for a second until they were at least sort of taken care of. So, we had you and her on medic duty, I took watch, since we still weren’t sure what the situation was here, and they got at least a little sleep. Now, it’s their shift on, and ours to get some rest.”

“Soldiers, if I’ve ever seen any.” Alvarez had said. The uncomfortable feeling that had taken up residence in Ford’s stomach since his conversation with the town leader was now intensifying.

Still, he was nothing if not a Pines, and therefore nothing if not stubborn.

“So, who’s on watch then, if Pacifica, you and I are all sleeping?”

They eyeroll he was given in response seemed a little out of proportion to the question, in Ford’s opinion.

“The rested psychic? Besides, if the people here wanted to test us, they’d have done it already. Now come on, I’m under orders. I don’t get to sleep until you do.”

If Ford had been his twin brother, he would have responded to that statement with a snarky comment about just who Thompson was taking orders from, and what she’d done to inspire such dutifulness.

He was not Stan, however, so he merely thought it so loudly that Gideon would almost certainly have picked it up, were it not for the metal plate in his head.

So wrapped up was the scientist in these uncharitable thoughts, that he almost didn’t notice when his newly minted minder slowed their pace, pausing at the next closed door down the hallway.

“Hold up a second, Dr. Pines.”

With that, Thompson released Ford from his hold, easing open the door and poking his head in. Ford peered over his shoulder into the darkened room, noting that it, like the room currently serving as their makeshift infirmary, contained two single beds. The one on the right was currently unoccupied (though from the unmade covers, Ford guessed Wendy had been there up until about an hour ago), while the one on the left contained the sleeping form of Pacifica Northwest.

His apparent wellness check completed, Thompson eased the door shut again.

“Figured she’d be asleep, just wanted to make sure.” the younger man offered, by way of explanation “She was about dead on her feet, but you know, with everything going on…”

Thompson trailed off at that, before giving his head a slight shake and nodding down the hallway.

“I think that’s us at the end there. Let’s go.”

Deciding further protestations were unlikely to be effective, Ford simply nodded and continued down the hall, opening the door and stepping into their sleeping quarters for the evening. Thompson entered right behind him, giving an amused snort at the sight they were greeted with.

“Figures Gideon would’ve snagged the master bedroom.”

“Indeed.” Ford responded with a small frown. In contrast to the other two rooms, this one contained only one bed. A double, or maybe a Queen, if Ford had to guess. “I don’t suppose there are any other rooms in this house?”

Thompson shook his head.

“None with beds. Looks like we’re bunking together, Dr. Pines. Let’s get to it. Boots and coat off, at least.”

With a small sigh, Ford complied. While not ideal, these were far from the worst sleeping arrangements the group had put up with over the past half-decade. It would be a little tight, especially as he and Thompson were the two largest members of the family (at least by mass. Dipper had grown taller than Thompson over the past year or so, but he still couldn’t match the older boy’s bulk), but they would make it work.

“I suppose we’ll have to make do then.” Ford allowed, removing his jacket and beginning to unbuckle his shoulder holster. “If nothing else, you’re a much less… active sleeper than Dipper or Gideon.”

“Yeah, you too.” Thompson remarked absently, shedding his vest and unfastening his own holster that had, as Ford had guessed, been hidden underneath. “The trick with Gideon though, is you either throw an arm over him or around him. Usually calms him right down.”

“Is that so?” Ford questioned, debating on whether to remove his sweater as well, before deciding that the daytime desert climate and the body heat of his bedmate would make keeping it on most uncomfortable. “What about Dipper?”

“Ah, Dipper.” Having divested himself of his sidearm, Thompson removed the knife from his boot, then sat down on the bed to begin unlacing them. “The trick with Dipper is ‘don’t bunk next to Dipper’. Love the kid and all, but I swear he’s got, like, six elbows. I suppose the other trick that works on him is ‘be Pacifica’, but I’ve never managed to pull that one off.”

Ford made a face, as he went to remove his own boots. “Thank you for that mental image.”

“Look, it’s not my fault that you have mental images to draw on where those two are concerned.”

Ford opted not to dignify that with a response.

Finally, the two were sufficiently disarmed and disrobed for bed.

“Alright. Sleep time.” Thompson announced, turning to regard Ford as he reached for the light switch. “You need a pill or anything before I kill the lights?”

Ford paused in pulling up the covers on his side of the bed, before shaking his head in the negative. “Thank you, but it shouldn’t be necessary.”

“OK, as long as you actually do get some sleep.”

With that, the younger man flipped off the light, though the effect was negligible, given the daytime sunlight coming in through the blinds. He turned then to get into his own side of the bed, pausing only to mutter “Dammit, Gideon. Getting drool everywhere…” and flip his pillow.

For his part, Ford did his best to relax, to try and slow his mind down enough for sleep. Despite his earlier protests, he did know that he needed his rest, just the same as the children did, even if their directing him to do so irked him somewhat.

Still, for all that he tried, he couldn’t help but play his conversation with Alvarez over and over in his head. The other man had a point, Ford knew, and that was exactly the problem. Because Ford didn’t have a solution.

Blast it, this was going to keep him up all night if he didn’t try and work it out.

He felt a little bad for Thompson, but unfortunately, he was the only one present at the moment. Additionally, he had been the one who’d insisted on dragging Ford to bed, so he’d need to deal with the consequences.

“Thompson. Can I ask you something?”

The groan he received in response was not proportionate to the situation, in Ford’s considered opinion.

“Ugh. Do you need to ask me now? I haven’t slept in 36 hours either, you know. Can’t it wait until we have to get back up?”

Well, Ford supposed it wasn’t urgent exactly, but then patience was not one of the signature virtues of the Pines family, and he was no exception on that count.

“Have you ever considered the possibility of our remaining in a settlement on a more permanent basis?”

In the dim light, Ford noted the younger man’s eyes snapping open at that, though the look on his face wasn’t one he could quite read.

“I’m guessing that was what you were talking about with the town leader today?” Thompson responded after a moment.

Ford nodded. “It was. He offered us a place in this community. I must confess, it was not an idea I’d ever seriously considered before, but his arguments as to the potential benefits of such an arrangement were convincing enough that I could not dismiss them out of hand. Obviously, a decision of this magnitude would require the input of the entire group, but I wondered whether this was something you, or any of the others, had ever considered before.”

“We’ve talked about it.” Thompson admitted, eyes still facing the ceiling. “Wendy and I, and Dipper’s brought it up to me once or twice, but it always turns out the same. There’d be nice things about it, for sure, but in the end, it really just wouldn’t work out.”

Ford felt his brow furrow at that. “Why not?”

“Couple reasons.” the younger man replied, rolling over on his side to face Ford “First off: Gideon.”

“Gideon?”

A nod. “He’s pretty good at hiding his powers at this point, but the longer we stay anywhere, the higher the chance someone figures him out. If that happens, all of a sudden we get asked a whole lot of questions we really don’t want to answer. After that, whatever welcome we might have would be gone.”

Ford nodded in return. “That would be a danger, yes. What other reasons have you come up with?”

“Well, the main one is Bill.”

Ford felt his blood turn to ice.

They never mentioned the demon, even if there were no practical reasons to refrain from doing so. Bill was out there, creating havoc across the whole of the dimension. The chances that he would ever turn his eye back towards them were remote, at best.

After all, he’d already gotten what he’d needed from them. From Ford. What concern would he have for them at this point? He’d already won.

Still, they never mentioned his name.

Or rather, Ford amended, they never mention him in my presence.

He wondered what else they spoke of only amongst themselves, and not to him.

“Bill?” he finally managed.

If Thompson noticed Ford’s sudden shift in demeanor, he was either too exhausted or too tactful to bring it up.

“Yeah, Bill. The thing is, we know he’s pretty much left us alone since Gravity Falls, but we can’t be sure that’ll always be the case. If he decides he does feel like coming after us again, everyone who happens to be nearby us is screwed. That was Dipper’s main thing. He says he’s already seen what happens to innocent people who happen to be in the way when Bill comes, and he won’t be responsible for that again.”

He won’t be responsible for that again…

Well, whatever else happened, whatever decisions they made, it was evident Ford needed to have a conversation with his nephew.

“I mean, we’ve all seen it,” Thompson continued “and yeah, no one wants to ever see it again. Life’s not great in places like this, I don’t think, but it’s something. I’d hate for them to lose what they have because they took us in without realizing what that meant.”

Ford swallowed thickly, willing himself to push down the waves of guilt that always lapped at the back of his mind.

You did this. You did all of this. You did this to your family, your friends, to the whole world, Stanford Pines. And those left closest to you suffer the worst of it.

It took all the willpower he had left, but Ford was able to just put a halt to that train of thought. There were paths in his mind there was no benefit in following.

Finally, he found his voice.

“So, it doesn’t bother you, then? The endless moving from place to place, never staying anywhere?”

The younger man shrugged as he rolled back on to his back.

“I mean, it’s not the best, but what other choice do we really have? We’re still alive, and we’ve got each other. I think that’s all you can really ask for these days. Not to say I’d mind if we found a base somewhere we could stay put at for longer, but other than that…”

Thompson trailed off at that, an odd expression crossing his face, before changing into a rueful grin.

“Alright. That was Gideon. He says if we’re not going to sleep, he’s more than happy to take our shift off.”

“Gideon? Was he listening in on us?” Ford scowled. He knew he’d need to speak with the whole group about Alvarez’s offer eventually, but he preferred to do it face to face, without the family’s youngest member abusing his powers to eavesdrop.

Thompson just chuckled.

“No, nothing like that. He just told me I was thinking hard enough that for a second he thought Dipper was waking up. Either way, he’s got a point. Good night, Dr. Pines.”

“Good night, Thompson”

Ford rolled back over, once more trying to relax his mind enough for sleep to claim him. After a few moments, Thompson’s breaths became slower and more even, indicating the younger had managed to drop off. Ford tried matching his breathing, eventually feeling the first stirrings of blessed unconsciousness start to seep in

We can’t say here, his mind whispered to him as he drifted off, but you still need to do better for them. If you can’t settle, there needs to be an endgame for all of this endless running. You need a destination.

You need to fix this.

You need a plan.