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Summary
Then he had taken off the fabric obscuring his face, and Stan couldn’t breathe. Not because he had somehow managed to age better than Stan in whatever hellhole he had been in, with his darker gray hair and less prominent wrinkles, but because that man was really his brother.
Alive. Safe. Whole. After three decades.
Stan finally succeeds in bringing his beloved twin back, but he isn’t the man from his memories. Instead of a nerdy paranoid researcher, he gets a badass hero straight out of an action movie, shrouded in black from head to toe in some sort of post-middle age goth phase. That would be quite alright, really, if only he could have Ford’s love back—and if it weren’t for Ford’s strange behavior. In Stan’s defense, there had been way more likely alternatives for his day to end than getting ravished on the floor.