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Chapter Text

Stanford Pines could barely keep his eyes open.

He lost track of the hours he'd been forced to stay awake for a long time ago. The longest recorded time in history a person has spent without sleep was eleven days and Stanford suspected he was dangerously close to beating that record. His body begged him to lay down, for just a second, but it was simply not an option.

The Portal may have been deactivated, but it was still dangerous. The iris scanner connected to the lock he put on the basement door would keep him out for a while, but it was too easy to overcome with enough time given. And if he would get a chance to take over Stanford’s body, he would not let go of it for a long long time. 

The time passed inexorably, not carrying one bit about Stanford’s pleas. The two-week mark was coming, and it was coming fast. It would’ve been smart to keep track of time and to be prepared when the deadline hits, and Stanford tried hard, but after the sixth day it all became a blur. 

So Stanford Pines did the only thing he could, with great effort, think of - he turned the heat in the cabin off to keep his body alert and ready and he waited. He was not entirely sure what he was waiting for, but it was important. He did something, a couple of days ago, and the fallout should catch up to him soon, but again - it was a blur. 

The floor was cold and hard and his body was so so tired, but it was not the time nor the place for him to rest. The more uncomfortable he was, the harder it was to fall asleep. So he sat, watching the entrance to his house and ignoring the triangular shapes dancing at the corners of his vision. He was waiting, but what was he waiting for…?

I will send someone to steal your eyes.

Right. That. He made a promise some time ago, and he was not the type to throw worlds into the wind. Every promise he made so far, he kept. It was Stanford’s own fault he did not ask more questions. 

In retrospect, it was quite obvious. The vague statements, the changes of topic when the conversation started to go not the way he would like, the - let’s call it by its name - love bombing. The signs were all there, and the man was disappointed in himself. Both Stanford’s Ma and Pa were making a living by manipulating the masses and letting people believe in whatever they wanted to, for fuck’s sake. He was a fool for not noticing anything sooner. 

Stanley would see him for what he's worth.

Stanford frowned. Why did his twin come to his mind? After all these years. It was not a coincidence, he was sure of it, but his mind was working slower and slower and the facts were mingling and fading away and why was it so hard for him to focus?

The silence was broken by a few fast, sharp knocks.

Stanford’s body reacted first, and by the time his slow slow mind caught up, he was already holding his crossbow. I’ll send someone to steal your eyes. The crossbow alone would not be very useful in the context of the beings from other dimensions, but the bolts were interwoven with the Unicorn’s hair, which made them a pretty good weapon against the demons and whatnot. The Unicorns were a huge pain to deal with, but it was all worth it in the end. 

Stanford slowly approached the door, although he was not sure why this thing sent by him knocked on his door instead of simply barging in and taking what it came for. Maybe it was a vampire. Or something like that.

The silence was loud, louder than his voice, louder than his laughter ringing in Stanford’s ears. He could see the shadow of the creature that had come for his eyeballs through the crack in the doors. The surprise attack would have the higher probability of success, so Stanford went for it, although his mind was in the energy-saving mode and didn't waste calories on calculating the exact odds.

He yanked the door open, swinging the crossbow so hard he was surprised it didn't fire on its own, just from the sheer force of the movement. 

“Have you come to steal my eyes?”

In hindsight, Stanford wasn't sure what this question was supposed to achieve. It's not like the vampires couldn't lie. His knowledge on the vampires wasn't as extensive as his knowledge about, for example, gnomes, but he did know that much. Come to think of it, if vampires required an invitation to enter one's household, wouldn't it make them pretty useless assassins?

“Well, I can always count on you for a warm welcome”

The figure standing outside was, in fact, not a vampire. The man’s face was familiar, but Stanford couldn't pinpoint exactly where he knew him from. It was like looking at a really strange and twisted mirror-

“Stanley?”

Both men slowly lowered their arms, still synchronised after a decade spent apart. It was probably this stupid twin-telepathy thing again, although Stanford never got concrete evidence to support the existence of thereof. Every time he tried to, Stanley would mess his data collection process up by either telling exactly what Stanford thought correctly and claiming it was a lucky guess or telling it wrongly and claiming he lied on purpose to throw Stanford off. His twin always had a talent to ruin his projects-

Why was he even here?

“Why are you even here?”

The crossbow was still low, but the muscles in Stanford’s hands became stiff again.

“Why- what do you mean why am I even here? You asked me to come!”

Did he?

He couldn’t exclude the possibility that he did. Stanford was waiting for something in this big quiet cold empty cabin. He recalled being desperate a few days ago and desperate times call for desperate measures, but…

Stanford couldn't let go of his suspicions so easily.

“And why should I trust you are not here to take my eyeballs?”

“Your-” Stanley took a deep breath “Right. Well, I'm your twin and I have a working pair of my own balls, thank you very much”

The silence fell between the two. Stanford let the weight of the situation fall on him. His twin brother, whom he has not spoken to for a decade. He came here, to Gravity Falls, Oregon, to help him, Stanford Pines. He dropped whatever he was doing at the moment and rushed from wherever he was just to come here, in the middle of harsh winter. It was poetic. Beautiful, almost. Their reunion, so unexpected and yet secretly awaited for so long-

“Uh, Sixer, can we go inside? It’s cold out here. You're acting like there's some secret psycho third twin out there trying to hunt you down”

The Shapeshifter. 

Of course. How could he be so blind ? It was so obvious. Now Stanford looked at this thing that pretended to be his brother in the new light. Everything about him was wrong. The pale and sunken face, the stiff posture, the bloodshot eyes. Even its teeth looked fake.

Stanford brought the crossbow back up.

“Woah, Sixer, what are you doing?”

The stupid nickname. So obvious. So stupid. It must be the sleep deprivation that clouded Stanfords mind. How could he be so foolish? He almost got himself killed, and for what? For sentiment?

“Let’s take a deep breath together, right? Let's put the fucking crossbow down so I could take what I came here for”

Stanford almost couldn't believe it. The fate of the world, almost thrown away. He was disgusted with himself. All it took for him to lose his guard was the image of his twin brother, pretending to care.

“Sixer, Ford, please, talk to me. Are you going to just stand there and let me strike first?”

Stanford detected movement by the corner of his eye.

He had to be faster than this creature.

There was one thing the Shapeshifter had gotten wrong.

Stanley would never answer his twin's pleas.

Stanford Pines pulled the trigger.

Chapter Text

Everything fell quiet. 

For the first time in days Stanford could hear the silence, not interrupted by whispers about stealing eyes and throwing a party.

For the first time in days Stanford heard the beating of his own heart.

The figure in front of him was laying still on the snow. Any second now it should turn back into its disgusting original form.

Stanford counted his heartbeats.

Any second now.

The crossbow was heavy in his hands and something even heavier started to form in his stomach.

Stanford ignored it the best he could.

He never killed a Shapeshifter before. Maybe it just stayed in its last taken form upon death.

He could probably study it later, if later ever came.

Snow slowly fell to the ground.

A crimson liquid creeped out from under the creature's head.

Another second passed.

Stanford dropped the crossbow and threw himself out of the cabin porch, almost killing himself on the iced steps in the process.

He ignored the cold ground and the snow soaking through his trousers. Stanford kneeled next to the figure and looked closely at its face.

The bolt was sticking out of the closed left eye. Perfect aim. Bullzeye . The other eye was open and…

It slowly turned to look at Ford.

His brother was still alive.

“Oh my- Stanley- I'm so sorry! Don't worry, it's okay, everything is okay- We will fix this, I promise”

Stanley started to move his lips, as if he was trying to say something. It was too quiet for Ford to catch, he was pretty good at lip-reading but right now he couldn't focus, he had to fix this, he had to reverse his paranoia fueled mistake, he had to-

“I'm sorry Stanley, I'm so so sorry, I thought you wouldn't come, I didn’t realized-”

Stanley's lips were moving in the same pattern, he was trying to say one thing over and over again and suddenly it hit Stanford like a bag of bricks.

It's okay, I'ts okay.

I love you.

He didn't even notice the tears coming down his cheeks. All Stanford could focus on was the sob that shook his entire body.

“Please, Stan, don't- God, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, please, Stan, don't go”

Stanley's lips, now in the color more similar to blue than pink, stopped moving. His remaining eye lost its focus and instead of looking at Ford, it looked through him, somewhere far away.

“Lee, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, please come back, I'm sorry Lee…”

He took Stan's limp body and hugged it. Another sob shooked Stanford, and soon he was screaming. The scream was full of rage at first, but soon it just became a cry full of guilt and regret.

Stanford Pines had killed his own brother.

***

The snow was still slowly falling, a thin layer was now covering brothers like a soft blanket. Stanford didn’t know how many minutes or hours had passed. His mind was blank, unable to process anything. Like a badly written code, it kept circulating back to the one problem it couldn't wrap itself around.

Stanley is dead.

It's funny, in a really dark and twisted way. For the better part of last decade Stanford was adamant he wouldn't care if his twin lived or not. At the early stages of his independent life he might be even happy to hear news like this. 

He felt sick when he remembered that.

There has to be something he could do to reverse his mistake, to stop the bolt from ever leaving the crossbow. He lived in Gravity Falls for a few years now, surely among all the supernatural fenomens he studied he would find something helpful. Even if the Journals wouldn’t help him right now, the things he discovered were barely a fraction of the knowledge that the woods around him possessed…

Stanford was so catched up in his mind, he didn’t even notice the world around him turning grey. At the sound of his voice, the man almost jumped out of his body. He probably would, but in Mindscape he had no body. 

“Hayia, Sixer. Long time no see, pal!”

“ Bill ! What are-” Stanford finally looked around, taking notice of his new surroundings. He looked down. In this grey light his brother was even more-

“And who do we have here? ” the demon moved from behind Stanford to the opposite side of the body- of Stanley “ Or should I say what ? Since, you know, little knock-off Sixer here is getting cold already. You know ” Bill swirled around Stanford, making it difficult to keep up with him “ I never quite believed you had it in you to get rid of spare ballast. All this talk about your twin ruining your life and being only a problem, I took that as only that - talk. Yet here we are!”

“I didn’t-”

“Oh but yes, you did . Can't argue with the evidence in front of you, science guy! Even as a multidimensional being, I did not see that one coming!”

“It was an accident! A mistake! And I’m going to-”

“ It was no accident, Stan! You did this! ” his own voice interrupted Stanford from behind him. He turned around, just in time to see his younger self showing his twin onto the couch.

Stanford didn’t even have to look. He knew the scene taking place in front of him by heart. But he still couldn’t turn his eyes away from the memory of the worst night of his life. 

Maybe the second worst night of his life, given the circumstances.

“I knew a guy that made a mistake once! Funny fella, really. Too bad his own flesh and blood was not as forgiving as one might hope. You wanna know a secret? He really did make a mistake, and when he left the Science Fair your project was still up and running. All this drama and suffering, just because you weren't good enough to make a working Perpetual Motion Machine! Hilarious!”

Stanford felt himself getting cold - figuratively speaking, still no body . How did he ended up in the Mindscape anyway? Did his exhausted body finally gave up? How long until he gets hypothermia? He really should get back to his body and figure out how to clean this mess.

But before that could happen, he had to end his exchange with the demon and avoid further manipulation. 

“And how would you know that? I'm not going to keep letting you make a fool of myself”

“Oh, now you want evidence Smart guy? Buckle up then! We’re going on a ride”

The world around Stanford started moving. It flew faster and faster until it came to a sudden halt a few moments later. Even with no physical body, the man felt nauseous. He needed another second or two to realise when the demon took him.

His high school gym.

It was dark and cluttered with tables and science projects, just like on the day his life plans crumbled right before his eyes.

Before the man managed to ask why the hell you brought me here , he heard a voice.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could you think he would stay back just because of you. Idiot”

It was Stanley. But not the one he left on the snow, with a bolt in his head. It was the seventeen years old version of his brother, walking through the dark gym, the infamous Toffee Peanuts in his hand.

“F’course he’d choose some fancy ass university over his stupid, useless twin. Who wouldn’t?”

Stanley was angrily eating, not speaking, and Stanford realised they were in his twin’s mind and what he was hearing were Stanley’s thoughts. 

Somehow, this realization made Stanford feel even worse.

Suddenly, Stanley stopped and looked up. Stanford followed his gaze, and there it was in all its glory. 

His Science Fair project.

The Perpetual Motion Machine.

The teen throwed almost empty package on the ground.

“This is all your fault, you dumb machine!”

This time, it wasn’t only in Stanley’s mind. His fist went into the air and Stanford watched it hitting the table next to his project in what felt like slow motion. 

He held his metaphorical breath and watched as the machine…

Kept spinning.

Chapter Text

Stanford Pines prides himself as a man with an open mind. He’s always hungry to learn something new and he throws himself at a new information the second it becomes available to him.

He is a scientist.

Stanford Pines also likes to theorise, whenever the information he desires is not yet within his reach. Which is why, after the whole incydent, the man spent countless sleepless nights theorizing about the moment his twin broke the machine and destroyed his future.

One of the most often visualised scenarios was Stanley angrily sabotaging Stanford’s project and smugly walking away, dreaming about the ‘treasures and babes’ he was hoping to get soon.

The second most popular in Stanford's mind was the image of Stanley breaking the machine out of jealousy, convinced he deserved better than to stand in his twin’s shadow.

None of the theories Stanford came up with over the time when he was still thinking about his brother were even remotely similar to the image he had in front of him now - his twin, horrified by his actions, frantically trying to put the little crate that fell off the machine back in it's place.

“Oh no. No, no, no, what did I do?”

Stan was always hot headed. He punched first and asked questions later, if ever. It always got him into trouble, but Stanford never quite put two and two together, he never connected this trait of his twin with the broken project in a way that would lead him to the conclusion it really was an accident.

“There, all right. Good as new. Probably”

The crate was back on, the machine was still spinning and Stan put the white material to cover the whole presentation. Everything was like he was never there, except for the Toffee Peanuts bag still on the floor.

“Good, I fixed it” there were Stan’s thoughts again, echoing in the big gym as he walked back to the door “Tomorrow Sixer will show off his scienc-y thing-y and all will be peachy. He’ll go to the fancy school and I soon might even follow him to the west coast. We’ll cut all this crap out and build a new, better life. It’s not like he’ll cut me off the minute he leaves Glass Shard Beach or something”

The doors closed behind Stan, leaving the room dark and quiet once again.The words he spoke, or rather the words he thought, cut Stanford deep. His baby brother really didn’t mean any harm. He was truly convinced he fixed everything and he was happy for his twin.

But was he really?

Stanford might have been awake for multiple days straight, but now that his brain felt more right, he reminded himself he had no certainty any of this was real. Bill’s manipulation was so complex, it was not beneath him to fabricate the whole memory of his brother breaking his project by accident and feeling happy for him, and then show it to Stanford as if it were real. There was a time when he wouldn’t doubted whatever demon had told him for a second, but this time has long passed.

“This proves completely nothing. How would you even have access to Stanley’s memories?”

“ Believe me or not ” the demon popped up seemingly from nowhere “ ol’ Fiver here had a lot of nightmares about this moment. I liked to hop in and watch some new horror he lived through and dreamed about every now and then. And I always made sure the dreams were practically a replica of his life. Do you want to see some more? ”

For the second time, Stanford didn’t have the time to object, or react in any way whatsoever. The world around him sped up again, and then it all stopped as suddenly as it started. Good thing Stanford didn’t have the real stomach, because he would be emptying it on the street right now.

The world was still dark, but not as dark as the closed off room they’ve been to a second ago. The sky was cloudy, but omnipresent snow made their surroundings a little brighter. 

Thanks to the white snow, the red El Diablo stood out like a sore thumb. Like Stanley’s blood in front of the cabin . 

“ Come on Sixer, don't stay behind ” Bill called out floating next to one of the back windows of the car “ The best part just begins! ”

Stanford obeyed mindlessly, and after a few quick steps he was standing next to the demon and looking through the window.

Inside he found Stan, laying curled up on the back seats. Dressed up in just some hoodie and a beanie, burried under some old clothes. He probably was hoping to warm himself up a little, but judging by his shivering body, it hasn’t worked like intended.

Stanford squinted his eyes and realized his twin looked almost identical to the version he saw a couple moments ago. Little skinnier and more dirty, sure. But still…

“ It’s one of the classics - first winter on the streets. He almost lost two of his toes thanks to the frost bite. You should see him limp around like some cripple ” Bill started his maniacal laugh again “ Hilarious! ”

The topic of their one-sided conversation stired and turned on his back. He put one hand over his eves and groaned.

“If I make it, next winter I’ll spend in the south. No more freezing my ass off, I fucking swear”

“It’s not…” not what ? Not true? Not fair? Stanford didn't know what he was objecting to exactly, but he felt the need to object regardless.

“ Oh don’t you worry, Smart Guy. It’s just the beginning of the lifetime of pain and misery. I’ll show you the highlights! ”

Once again the world sped up, but this time it lasted much longer. Stanford felt himself suspended mid air, unable to escape this weird, weightless state. Out of the blur around him, the scientist started to make out short scenes, each one starring his twin brother.

Young Stan in some town, swiftly reaching to someone's pocket and walking away with their wallet.

A little older and skinnier Stan, curled up in a dirty alley, surrounded by a bunch of drunk guys, kicking him and laughing.

Stan with long hair, sitting in El Diablo, looking at a few coins in his palm, his stomach rumbling hungrily.

Stan in an orange prison suit, sitting in a cell between two Mexican men talking about killing him.

Stan sleeping in his car again, this time with a baseball bat in hand.

Stan in an alley, counting cash that was handed to him by some skinny and unkept guy, and giving said guy a little bag filled with a white powder.

Stan in a small space, a trunk of a car, frantically trying to chew his way out and spitting out a loose tooth.

Finally, when everything slowed down again, Stanford found himself standing in a small, filthy room. The walls were red, the dim light from a small lamp barely lit them up.

Quiet music was playing in the background, and in front of the older twin on a beat up couch sat a smug guy, with his legs spread out and a drink in one hand.

Bill materialized next to the guy, taking the similar pose - down to a drink in his hand. With the second arm he motioned at the space around them.

“ I saved the best one for last. Welcome to Tijuana! ”

Chapter Text

Stanley Pines was a lot of things.

He was Filbrick’s and Caryn’s Pines son, Stanford’s Pines twin brother.

He was a boxer, a fighter, a charmer. He was strong, hot headed, quick to beat someone up, always ready to defend his twin.

Some would say Stan was a dumber, sweatier version of Stanford, but it wasn’t true. While Ford had his books and brain, Stan had his mussels and charisma. They were two sides of the same coin, two parts of one whole.

For a long time, when Stanford thought about his twin, he saw the night Stan broke his project. What he should, but failed to see was the night when Stan saved his date in front of the movie theater. Or that time he threw a punch all over himself to cheer Stanford up after getting dumped at a school party. Or, for that matter, any other time when Stan standed up to bullies that tried to hurt Stanford in any way.

What Stanley Pines wasn’t was a fucking stripper.

But there he stood, on a small pedestal with a built-in metal pole. Almost naked, except for a pair of boxers covering his private parts. He looked like he lost a ton of weight, his body visibly unhealthy and covered in countless scars, his hair was long and dirty, his face pale and sunken.

He was dancing slowly, maybe a little awkwardly, to the rhythm of the music in the background. 

Stanford couldn’t believe his eyes.

It has to be some sick joke, a big manipulation from Bill, anything but the truth.

But at the same time, it all made even too much sense. How old was Stan when Pa… Seventeen, maybe? It was before graduation, so he didn’t even finish highschool. And what was the underage highschool dropout supposed to do on the streets? No home, no job, no food. Stealing and sleeping in your car can only get you so far.

Why didn't Stanford realize any of this before?

The disturbing scene in front of him changed. The music stopped and Stan’s body stopped moving. He was just standing there, and Stanford looked into his eyes, trying to find any trace of the fire his brother always carried inside of him.

But Stanley’s eyes were empty.

“All right, doll. You’ve to get some work done on your moves, but it was good enough”

The smug guy broke the silence. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the same white powder Stan was selling a few memories ago. He stood up and threw the bag onto a little table, in which Stanford just noticed he was standing. His twin seemed a little too eager to reach for the bag, but before he could grab it, the smug guy covered it with his hand.

“Not so fast, princess. I think I’ll change our deal a little. Since you were such a good little bitch until now, I don't think it will be a problem for you”

With those words, he slowly reached to his belt.

“No!” surprisingly, those words came from Stanford , not Stanley . The younger twin again lowered his hand slowly and stood still, failing to react in any way. The only thing Stanford noticed has changed were his eyes. They weren’t empty anymore.

Now they were filled with resignation.

Stanley was ready to do whatever the smug guy had prepared for him.

It was all too much for Stanford.

He turned back to Bill and pointed at him accusatory.

“You! Stop this right now!”

The drink Bill was holding disappeared, and the demon floated up off the couch.

Stanford did everything he could to focus on Bill’s voice instead of the sound of unfastening the zipper.

“What’s the matter, Smart guy? Can’t handle the knowledge of what you've put your brother through? You know, there is the dimension where you didn’t kill him. I hate it, but you would probably love it. Some years from now, Stanley Pines is a successful businessman, valued and beloved member of the community, a real family guy ” Ignore the sounds, ignore the gaging, ignore the groans, oh God, Stanley… “A hero, brave and smart enough to defeat my ultimate form, after a certain family member of his was stupid and naive enough to help me get into your dimension. It’s a real shame this version of him didn’t get to live enough to see all that”

From behind Stanford, he could hear a sudden cry of pain, followed by a laugh and some of the most disgusting sounds Stanford heard in all his life. For God knows how long those sounds were all the man could hear. But then, Bill spoke again.

“Unless…”

Suddenly, the room disappeared. The scene behind Ford with it. He would’ve felt more relieved if he didn’t know those were Stan’s real memories. The demon was suspended mid-air, with his hand stretched out towards Stanford. The familiar blue flames danced around Bill's hand.

“I can make a new deal, as a one time offer. Just for you. My end of the bargain won’t change at all, but for you… I promise to resurrect your brother. Ah, why not, I can throw in the promise of safety for the iconic duo. All I want in return is you, turning that Portal on. Whatya say, Sixer? Let’s shake on it, like the old times”

Silence.

“What, still not enough? You sure know how to bargain. What else do you want? Fame? Money? Immunity for the crazy cult guy? Name your price and we can figure something out”

“How… how do I know you even can bring him back?”

“I’m the Multidimensional, almost omniscient being, and you question my abilities? All right, IQ, I have to admit. It won't be easy right now, but when you let me in and I gain a bonus dimension to my form, it will be a cakewalk, trust me. Right now my powers are a little limited, so I can only give you five days before ol’ Fiver kicks the calendar indefinitely. I think it’s more than enough time for someone like you” more silence followed. Bill started to show signs of annoyance “I can tell bringing your brother back from the dead, where you put hum yourself, is a difficult decision for you. I’ll be generous, for the sake of our history, and give you twenty-four hours to decide. See you then, and you better have an answer ready for me”

Stanford opened his eyes. He slowly came to consciousness.

Snow stopped falling and the forest around him was disturbingly quiet.

The man felt how cold he was and started to wonder how long he was out for. It was night time already, so it must have been at least a few hours. It will be a miracle if all of his extra fingers will be intact.

Feeling even more tired than before, Stanford tried to get up. And then he realised what he was laying on. Who he was laying on…

The images of his brother's memories came at him with the force of the tsunami. It was all too much for one person to bear. Stan's past, Stanford’s present…

Finally, the man did the only thing his exhausted body and mind were still able to do.

He started to cry.

Chapter Text

Life is full of contrasts.

The smart twin next to the strong one.

The hot tears streaming down the cold cheeks.

The red blood on the white snow.

Stanford didn’t have the time to deal with his feelings right now. He could sense a panic attack coming soon, but right now he had twenty four hours to get ahold of himself and figure out how to bring Stan back without involving Bill.

Because now he knew for sure it was an option. Bill was a manipulator, he bent the truth to his liking, he picked and choosed which information he would give someone and which one he’d hold to himself. But the demon would never, ever make a deal he couldn’t deliver on. The deals were sacred to Bill - which ment there was a way to bring his brother back.

That’s why the mental breakdown had to wait. There was work waiting to be done. The first task - taking care of his brother in a more mortal and down to earth sense. That’s why Stanford found himself howling Stanley’s body from the front of the cabin to its side. It was hard not to feel dirty and disrespectful while putting his brother in between the cabin and the wood collected for the winter, but it was the best idea Stanford could come up with for the moment. Leaving Stan on the front of the cabin was out of the question, the forest came with too great of a risk of damaging Stan and the inside of his house would probably be too warm.

The scientist hesitated after putting his brother down, but ultimately decided to leave the remaining eye open. It was a little morbid, but the night sky was too beautiful to rob Stanley of the possibility of admiring it.

The act of closing his eye would feel too definitive.

Now it was the time to regroup. Stanford had to be smart with his actions. As much as he wanted to just throw himself in research and anomalies, for this he could always find some time later. What he wouldn't have time for was taking care of himself.

No matter how much over the years he despised being just a weak human, this fact has stubbornly refused to change. And Stanford had survived the last couple weeks of off pure adrenaline, apparently. The nap he took in the snow, with Bill haunting his mind, didn't regenerate him much. He was not in college anymore. It was time to be responsible for once in his life.

For Stan.

With that on his mind, Stanford entered his kitchen. But then he stopped suddenly in his tracks. When was the last time he ordered supplies?

As it turned out, it was a long time ago. The fridge was empty. The cupboards too, except from the one a gnome had claimed as his bedroom. The pantry was starting to grow an yet undiscovered form of life, and the scientist made a mental note to study it once he finished to deal with his current situation . 

Thus, in front of Stanford stood the first of many big challenges he would encounter during the next twenty-four hours: grocery shopping. The man vaguely remembered a convenience store in the town, Dusk2Down or something ridiculous like that. It would come in handy, considering it was probably the middle of the night.

Stanford dreaded going out to town. He lived in Gravity Falls for years, but his reluctance to meet townsfolks only grew with time. He was probably a freak to them. The six-fingered mad scientist, living alone in the middle of the woods. Now he was going to show up in their store, in the middle of the night, with stained clothes and a paranoid look in his eyes. It’s not going to help with his reputation one bit. But what else there was for him to do, his body craved calories to burn into energy it needed to push forwards.

With a sigh, Stanford left the kitchen. Where had he left his wallet again?

***

The town was quiet, the late hour and snow were doing a bad job in encouraging people to come out of the comfort of their home. For Stanford, it was for the better. It was not the best time to challenge his antisocial tendencies.

Dusk2Down was mostly empty, safe from a bored teenager barely keeping his eyes open behind the register. Scientist’s moves were automatic, he grabbed a few products that seemed to require the least amount of work in order to enter an edible state.

While walking along the shelves, Stanford started to form a sketch of a plan for the next hours. He calculated. With no interruptions, the whole shopping spree, including the drive, would probably take no more than half an hour. In a time sensitive situation like this, every action had to be done in the most efficient manner. The little things liked to add up, after all.

Unfortunately, fate was not on Stanford's side lately.

The ring above the door rang, and Stanford tensed. Who is doing their shopping at this ungodly time of day? Is this a coincidence? Or are they here for him? Had Bill lied to him, just to lure him away from any weapons and kill him easier? He had to locate another exit. Figure out a plan. Maybe he could find an axe or something else useful somewhere in the store-

“Fiddleford?”

His old partner stood in the middle of the aisle, his eyes deprived of any trace of recognition. Stanford tried his best to remember how many days or weeks passed since the day they performed a test run of The Portal together. Time has lost its meaning for the man, but it couldn’t be that long ago. Fiddleford shouldn’t look at him like he was some kind of stranger. They had too much history together for him to simply forget . 

“I’m sorry, mister, do I know you…?”

“Fiddleford, don’t be ridiculous. It’s me, Stanford” he raised his hand and wiggled all six fingers for a good measure.

As Stanford anticipated, there was a wave of realization on his colleague. But in the split second Fiddleford’s expression turned to pure horror.

And then he screeched. 

Too stunned to move, all Stanford could do was stand and watch as his best friend and long time work partner tried to run away so suddenly he fell on his ass. It didn’t stop his panic, quite the opposite - the engineer scrambled himself to his feet as fast as he could, and ran to the door. 

Fiddleford, quickly and without stopping, looked back at Stanford and hit the window next to the doors so hard it shook the newspaper rack, but it didn’t stop him for long. In a blink of an eye Stanford was in the store alone and confused (the teenage cashier somehow still looked unamused). After a few seconds he took his groceries to the register, now failing to worry about being the town weirdo. The animal scream was ringing in Stanford’s ears and his mind was replaying the bizarre encounter over and over again, asking just one question.

What in the hell happened to Fiddleford?