Roaring waves rolling over the shore. Blinding sunlight shimmering from the sea. Scorching heat turning sharp rocks and rough sand into a trail of hot coals. Whether such an environment might resemble more heaven or hell depends mostly on if one finds himself there by choice or by force.
Neither applies to the man on the shore. Surely he didn't cross half an ocean for fun, not at this point in his life, not by himself. He didn't do it to fulfil a purpose, complete a quest, finish a job. He instinctively knows no negative consequence would follow from dealing with his cargo in a million different ways, including destroying it, selling it, trashing it or simply keeping it. No reward will be given for doing exactly as he was asked, no money, no thanks, no respect. Yet he is there, breaking his back under a foreign sun without really questioning why, just following the lead of another as he's expected to, as he's always been expected to.
He can barely hear the dull thumps of the shovel digging into the ground, swiftly engolfed by the loud background noise of the sea. Drops of sweat roll down his back, his skin already prickling from the upcoming sunburn. Hours of effort have produced a decently deep hole, at least one meter high. He takes his breath for a moment, then he picks up the carefully packaged book lying on the ground and casually tosses it into the hole, before proceeding to shove the fresh dirt back into its place.
He wasn't expecting to feel any satisfaction or accomplishment, so he doesn't. Just another insignificant part of his insignificant life finally dealt with, leaving him free to move onto other insignificant endevours. He stops for a moment, wiping the sweat from his face with his crumpled shirt before turning slightly to glance behind himself.
"Happy now, Sixer?"
Ford startles. Stanley is staring straight at him, his face an expressionless mask. Nothing moves, nothing changes, yet a strong shiver runs through Ford's back as the entire landscape, the noise of the sea, the very air he's breathing convey a single sensation to him.
This is wrong.
They're a few meters apart, but that doesn't seem nearly enough when his brother starts to stroll casually toward him, lazily reaching to scratch an itchy spot behind his shoulder.
"This is what you wanted, right?"
I shouldn't be here.
Stanley sinks the shovel in the ground with a single, firm hit, leaving it standing on the beach like an ominous landmark. A smile that doesn't reach his eyes appears on his features, and it seems to spread its coldness to the entire world as the sun grows pale, the air chill, the sea silent. Now he's violently scratching his back, that specific spot on his back, with harsh, mechanical jerks, and Ford can practically see the contours of the mark getting tainted with blood.
This is wrong.
This is wrong, and he knows exactly why, and the knowledge only fuels his discomfort into full-blown fear. He has known it was only a matter of time before he was found, he knows he can handle it as he has done countless times before, he knows he can't be hurt in any way, but none of those thoughts prevent him from instictively stepping back at the sight of the familiar, manic grin spreading on his brother's face.
"Your brilliant plan can go on now. Banish the demon. Fix the portal. Fly to the sun. Isn't that right?"
Stanley's hand shoots forward and Ford can feel the wet, warm blood on his fingers as they curl around his neck, squeezing a gasp out of him. He grasps the other's arm but he can't break his hold, as his own body feels as heavy as lead, and none of this is new, it's just the same as years ago, he has hoped he could put up more of a fight now but he still can't...
"How cute."
The scenery fades around them, leaving them standing in a completely black void, lit only by the bright yellow shade of his brother's eyes. His pupils are so thin they can barely be seen, but they run long and sharp through the entire eyeballs. His grin is impossibly wide, flashing far too many teeth for any human mouth.
"Can it, Cipher."
The harshness in Ford's words surprises them both. Stanley freezes for a moment, then a low chuckle erupts from his mouth, growing steadily louder and higher like a shepard tone, until the shrieking laugh - that laugh - spreads through the whole nothingness, through each fiber of his being.
"Wow Sixer, so cold. Figured you might be up for a little game after all these years, but I guess you're still as boring as ever, uh?"
The hand around his neck vanishes, while his brother's shape bends and retreats into a familiar triangular figure, literally beaming with its gaudy yellow glow. Bill Cipher hovers around Ford, enveloping him with his constant snicker.
"Not that it wouldn't do some good to your nerves too, you know? A nice dream scuffle with your ridiculous brother would do wonders for all that pent-up rage you've been shoving under the metaphorical carpet! Catharsis at its finest!"
Ford tightens his fists without replying, eyes trained on the floating demon. Bill frowns and then rolls his eye, crossing his arms in disappointment.
"Really, Sixer? The silent treatment again? Come on, it's been years since our last chat! I was hoping the distance might have softened you a little. To think of all the efforts I made to track you down... Oh well..."
He snaps his fingers, and Ford feels a sharp tug on his arms, causing him to fall forwards on his hands and knees. He tries to stand, but his palms are stuck to the invisible surface acting as a floor, perfectly dark like everything else.
"I'll just have to carry on the conversation all by myself. No matter, I'm always the most brilliant contributor. So, how are you liking this dimension? It's a blast of nostalgia, isn't it? Back in Gravity Falls after... what is it, 28, 29 years? It must feel weird to see your old house, your old assistant... Have you met yourself yet? Oh boy, I'd like to see that scene, that guy's ego is even bigger than yours..."
Ford grits his teeth, glaring at the small, yellow eyes that are now dotting the surrounding darkness in every direction. He knows better than to answer Bill's provocations, he knows that reacting in any way to his words will only entertain the demon more, encouraging his prodding and prolonging the torture. Granted, ignoring him completely improves the situation only marginally, since Cipher loves listening to himself and could easily drone on for hours, but it's still better than getting dragged into a pointless argument.
Bill sits on the man's back and leisurely crosses his legs, elbowing him lightly on the head with annoying familiarity.
"Come oooooon Fordsy, give me something to work with. I know you have the stoic, lonely hero flair down to a T, but it gets really boring really quickly from my side. And it's not like you're really convincing anyone anyway. I don't need to be able to comb through your thoughts to see that you're barely keeping it together."
Ford raises his head at that. It's a mistake, but he can't help staring at the demon, wondering if he is just misinterpreting its mocking tone. He knows for sure he isn't when Bill's eye shrinks threateningly, its finger poking jokingly to his forehead.
"Oh. Oh. You think I hadn't noticed? You think the All Seeing Eye would overlook the overly complicated tin foil hat you're wearing?"
Suddenly the finger feels sharp, is sharp, and it's digging into Ford's forehead and drawing a straight line all around his head, leaving hot trails of blood dripping in its wake. Ford bits his lip hard, an invisible force keeping his head in place as Bill has its way with him. He can't hold back a yell and nearly blacks out when he feels something being torn from his skull with a painful tug. He can't see what Bill is doing, he can barely see anything now that blood positively rains on his face, but his imagination provides him with more than enough harrowing images. He feels the demon tap and poke at the exposed implant, a shrill shock of pain radiating from every touch.
"Look at this! Premium quality allurium, completely non-allergic, non-magnetic, and extremely lightweight! And look at all these fancy runes too, how poetic... How much did you pay for this trinket? No? Oh right, Jhessie loves doing charity, she must have had a field day with your sorry nut."
Ford's body is pulled upwards, and now he's floating in front of the demon's amused gaze. He doesn't manage to school his features quickly enough to hide how much Bill's words have unsettled him.
"Wow, you really thought you had managed to get off the grid, didn't you? I may not have been able to reach your dreamscape for a while, but word gets around quickly, Fordsy. Especially if you start stealing incredibly rare components and circuitry from the major researching facilities of the nearby dimensions. That isn't exactly subtle, brainiac."
The demon pauses for a moment and its tone lowers, changing from the usual chirping chatter to a something almost thoughtful that sends all sorts of bad impressions to Ford.
"Oh, I know that you aren't in this place for a vacation. I know what you're building, that pretty neat gun you're trying to piece together. It's truly funny, you know. Watching you scuttle and bustle about the multiverse, pursuing your sacred mission with all your might and focus. It's much funnier than just squashing your puny existence or driving you insane. I hope you do realise that this is the only reason you're still alive, Sixer. Because killing you would be too boring."
Bill snaps his fingers again and Ford's mouth twitches open. One by one, his teeth are yanked out, each one sending a jolt of excruciating pain through his skull. He shouts, he instictively tries to shake the invisible force off his body, but his limbs remain firmly encased in the surrounding darkness.
"Haunting a human's dreams every night, every time he falls asleep, torturing him in the most creative ways until he simply dies of exhaustion or goes stark mad is fun... for the first hundred times. But then it gets very repetitive and time-consuming. Even if you switch things around with women, kids, old people, infants... in the end, all everyone does is screaming and thrashing about. Screaming and thrashing about."
Ford sputters and coughs, blood and saliva overflowing from his mouth. The strong iron taste is nearly enough to make him gag, and he hopes, he prays that the pain is strong enough to rouse him, to tear him away from the nightmare. He has never had to bear that much pain in the past, the worst he remembers experiencing is Bill ripping his sixth fingers off, and that had been enough to wake him nearly instantly. Is the plate giving him more endurance? Is the distance from his home dimension influencing Bill's powers?
"I really can't be bothered to do this more often than a few times per decade. I guess that's why this dimension's me has let you off the hook so easily. He must have been even more bored than me."
Ford raises his head, genuinely astonished. Bill is toying with his teeth, arranging them in simple geometric shapes floating above its palm. They stare at each other for a moment before the demon bursts out laughing.
"Oh. Oh. Oh, Fordsy. Don't tell me you didn't know. Did you think I was messing with this place too? One Gravity Falls holds just as many skin puppets as I can tolerate at once! No no, I'm just visiting here. This dimension belongs to another Bill, and we are all very jealous of our toys. Whoops, silly me, I keep complaining about you being all sulky and quiet, but you can't articulate much without these, can you?"
All teeth fly back to Ford's mouth and sink back into his gums, drawing another loud howl from the man. Despite the new flow of blood and piercing pain, they seem to heal immediately, somewhat restoring their functionality.
"Riiiight, that's why you're so driven. You actually, seriously, realistically think that you can take me down for good. That you can blind the Cyclops - you do like this Greek stuff, don't you? After sixty years of research and thirty of dimension hopping, you still haven't grasped the concept ofinfinity, brainiac? Infinite realities. Infinite worlds. Infinite Bills."
Cipher raises his hand and turns it into a blade, the sharpest Ford has ever seen, the deadliest his mind could ever imagine. He braces himself for another bout of pain, but the demon turns it against himself and abruptly slices off one of its own angles. The stump flashes for a moment, then it starts growing back, but on each side a new, smaller triangle blooms immediately, sporting yet smaller triangles on its sides. The shape keeps growing like a living fractal, curling itself around Ford's torso and driving its minuscule, invisible tips into his flesh.
"You may, hypothetically, erase me from existence, but that would only leave infinity-minus-one other Bills free to claim your cozy dimension and wreck it at will. I am not a Cyclops, Fordsy. I am a Hydra."
The blade raises high above Ford's head, looming over him like a curse, keen and lethal like the split pupil transfixing him.
"And guess what, it wasn't Icarus who killed the Hydra. You just aren't cut out for the job."
Ford awoke with the sound of his own shriek echoing in his ears. The first thing he noticed was that he could move freely, and his hands flew to his chest. He expected to find nothing, nothing more than the gaping cut Bill's blade had left while slicing through his entire body. He found his sweater, slightly damp with sweat but otherwise untouched, covering his unmarred body. He scrambled in the darkness until he found the light switch, finally showing the safety of his temporary room.
He laid back on the bed, his breath gradually returning normal as the last shreds of the dream slowly vanished from his mind.
Bill had found him. He had expected that to happen sooner or later, but that didn't make the realisation any less annoying. He had hoped he could stay in this particular dimension a little longer, to recover and prepare best before plunging into the unknown again. He had hoped...
Ford stood up and went to the bathroom, checking his image in the mirror. No blood, no injuries, no missing teeth. It was always worth checking, if only for the grounding reassurance it provided. He quickly freshened himself up and walked out into the corridor, heading to the exit of the compound.
Parallel Fiddleford had arranged a neat accomodation for him in one of the less used buildings of the facility. Careful plans and movement restrictions had been applied both to Ford and his Parallel self to avoid any sort of contact, but Ford had found that all employees and workers generally avoided him by their own will. He couldn't blame them, given the considerable amount of property damage and minor injuries he had caused when he had first met Fiddleford. In fact, it was surprising how positively Parallel Fiddleford had reacted to his presence after they the initial distrust. Not only he had provided him with a shelter instead of outright throwing him into the portal (which was undoubtedly the safest choice for his dimension), but he had also agreed to help him design and assemble the Quantum Destabilizer. His insight had proved to be invaluable, and Ford felt now confident that it was just a matter of days before it could finally be completed. With the gun finally operational, Ford could start to plan his next and hopefully final raid in the Nightmare dimension...
He stepped out of the building, feeling slightly better as the fresh breeze ruffled his hair.
He had considered it. He had thought that the Bill he knew wouldn't be the only one. He had never found any evidence to support or disproof the idea, but it had occurred to him. And he had decided to ignore the issue, because getting lost in groundless conjectures based on groundless assumptions couldn't lead anywhere. His dream had just made the whole problem suddenly relevant, but in the end it hadn't provided any reliable insight, simply because Bill wasn't to be trusted. The demon lied as naturally as it blinked, and it hadn't escaped Ford how Cipher had casually thrown around the idea that he could meet his Parallel self, omitting the rather important fact that that would cause a dimensional collapse. It was just like Bill, to mix truth with lies so seamlessly that one could never be sure what to believe. The obvious strategy was to disregard anything he said.
There could be only one Bill, given his peculiar powers and status of multidimensional entity. There could be more. That didn't change the fact that Ford had made a mistake, many mistakes, and that he fully intended to make amends for them. His efforts may not yield the spectacular result of Bill Cipher's complete annihilation, but he was only human. Taking down at least one of those cursed triangles would be enough to pacify him and to grant some respite to several dozen dimensions.
He glanced up at the sky, taking in the view of familiar constellations he hadn't seen in years. The familiarity of this Parallel Earth was calming and disquieting at the same time. A strong part of him wished to just settle down somewhere in the opposite hemisphere and resume some sort of ordinary life, but it was a thought he didn't like to indulge. He knew he couldn't. He wasn't made for this. The last thirty years, and to a lesser extent his entire life, had been all about research, discovery, oddity and experience. That was his life, that was who he was. That recurring jab about Icarus may be true. He may have been constantly trying to fly higher than he could, but cutting his own wings just because he was too afraid to fall would be even more miserable.
Ford sighed and turned back, deciding to try and get some more sleep. He deliberately avoided to look at that particular area in the sky, at that particular constellation with a five-pointed bow tie that somehow seemed brighter than any other.