A/N: Hey guys! SURPRISE! It's June 15th, the Stan Twins' Birthday! So I'm posting this four-part fanfic as a celebration! This is canon to my little AU and takes placed just a few months after the banishment of Bill. You don't have to read Crash and Burn to still enjoy this, but it might help; just keep that in mind if there are gaps in the story or something isn't canon.

Anyway, happy reading!

It was about twenty minutes after five. Hephzie was humming to herself as she pulled up her motorcycle next to the red Diablo and shut the engine off. Hephzie freed her deadlocks from her helmet, still tied up in her high-ponytail by a red scrunchie, and walked up the stairs to the porch. When she opened the door, she was greeted by a Saint Bernard, who was ninety-one pounds and not quite fully grown, but the seven-month-old puppy was no longer a little ball of fluff. He ran, slid on the wooden floor a little, but he was a master at using the slippery to get to his Mama faster, and soon his front paws were up on her stomach and his little cotton-ball of fur for a tail was wagging rapidly.

"Hey, Everest!" Hephzie dropped her helmet to massage his saggy muzzle with both hands and she lowered herself enough so Everest could lick her face. "Did ya have a good day?"

"Hephzibah!" Ford came up to her with a smile on his face and Hephzie shooed the dog off of her so she could stand straight. Everest sat by their feet with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. "How was work?"

Hephzie kissed Ford in greeting and said, "It was great! It was steady for the most part, delivered three babies today. How was your day?"

"Oh, it was fine." Ford with a smile and a shrug. "Still haven't found the Moth Man. I think he's avoiding me."

"How much does he owe ya?" Hephzie asked as she hung up her leather-jacket by the door to reveal her usual red blouse.

"Fifty dollars."

"Stanford! How the hell did he manage to owe ya fifty bucks?!"

"It's not my fault he's terrible at poker!"

Hephzie rolled her eyes and headed for her room to relax a little before dinner. Stan was making spaghetti in the fridge, but was too busy dancing to Disco Girl on the radio to say hi to Hephzie as she passed or even notice that she was home. Hephzie sighed with relief when she walked into her shared bedroom, but raised a brow at the little box on her pillow; Ford hadn't wrapped it, but he did stick a little blue bow on it to make it clear that it was a gift.

Hephzie sighed to herself and crossed her arms over her chest. When she glanced at the door, Ford was there with an excited grin on his face.

"Ford…"

He closed the door and whispered, "Oh, go on! Just take it, please!"

Hephzie chuckled to herself and pick the box off of her pillow. She could tell that Ford had been looking forward to this all day. "Fine."

Ford even punched the air. "Yes!" And he sat at the foot of the queen-sized bed while Hephzie went into their bathroom.

"It feels weird keeping a wine glass in here." Hephzie shared through the door. "I'd feel better if you had one in here with me."

Ford rolled his eyes with that stupid smile still on his face. "No more alcohol for you, young lady." He patted his knees anxiously, anticipating the results from the test.

"Ya know these tests aren't the most reliable, right?" Hephzie called to distract herself.

"I know, but I would still feel more comfortable if you took one."

"Oh, n' we would just hate for anyone to be uncomfortable, wouldn't we?" Hephzie said sarcastically.

Ford chuckled and waited patiently. He patted his knees to the rhythm of Disco Girl (that song now stuck in his head) and he used the sounds of flushing and the faucet running to keep track of the progress that was being made. When the door opened, he leaned forward a little, a hand on each knee, and he waited for Hephzie's results.

"Well?"

Hephzie shook her head. "Nope."

Ford's smile dropped, but he quickly picked it back up as best as he could, making a sad smile with genuine eyes. "Don't worry. We'll keep trying."

"I'm not worried." Hephzie said and stepped towards her husband. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he held her by the waist, Ford's head going up to her chest. "We just have to be patient."

"I know, I know," Ford sighed. "I just… how many teenagers have you had for patients? How many newborns that you've cared for or delivered were… surprises?"

"'Bout as many couples I've had that had to try for years before they got a positive, or never got one at all?" Hephzie said calmly. "Life's shitty like that."

Ford sighed with a nod of agreement, and hugged her so his head rested on her chest.

Hephzie rubbed his back and shoulders as she hugged him. "Ya know what," She said slowly as an idea came to mind. "Let's have a movie night! We haven't had one in forever."

Ford looked up at her with eyes that sparkled like stars and gently rested his cleft chin on her stomach. "That sounds like a great idea. What movie did you have in mind?"

"What about that alien movie you and Stan wanted to see?"

"Sure. We're out of popcorn, though."

"I'll just pick some up n' go rent the movie after dinner while ya n' Stan do some chores."

"What? We did our chores!" Ford gasped in pretend-offense.

Hephzie raised a brow and ran her fingers through her husband's fluffy brown hair. "Oh? Did you wash the Stanmobile?"

"Stan did, yes. And filled it with gas."

"What about the laundry?"

"I took care of it."

"Did you give Everest a bath?"

Ford winced with a cheeky smile. "I'll make Stan do it while I clean the kitchen."

Hephzie laughed, gave Ford a kiss, and led him back to the kitchen to share their plan with Stan.

An hour or so later and Hephzie went on a little errand trip. First she went to the grocery store and got some snacks. She grabbed some popcorn, a bag of jelly-beans, some toffee-peanuts, a box of oreos, and she was just about to get a six-pack of Pitt soda when a better idea struck her mind like lightning. Hephzie left the store and then drove to her favorite bar. There's one in town called Skull Fracture that she and Stan liked to drink and play pool at, but there's a cozier bar Hephzie likes to go outside of town, so she stepped by, said hello to some friends, bought a six-pack of bottled-beer, and then went to go rent the movie.

She had just reached her motorcycle with the VCR tape in her hand when a chill went down her spine and she had a feeling that someone was watching her. A shiver went down her back like a spider. She hardly had time to turn around before she was hit in the back of the head and everything went dark.

Hephzie had left a little before seven. The plan was that while she was gone, Ford was going to clean the kitchen and Stan was going to clean the dog Everest. Hephzie swore she would be back before eight. The clock ticked by and chores were completed. Soon Stan sat in his pajamas on the couch with Everest and was flipping through channels, waiting for Hephzie to get back with the movie.

Ford got nervous when eight approached and Hephzie still wasn't home.

"Relax, Sixer. She said she'd be back by eight, so she'll be back by eight. She probably took forever to pick some snacks or maybe the store didn't have the movie or whatever."

Ford nodded in agreement and sat with his brother to watch the eight o'clock news until his wife came home. When the news was over at eight-thirty and Hephzie still wasn't home, Ford went with the sickening feeling in his gut and stood up. "Get dressed, Stan."

Stan swore like a sailor under his breath, but went to go put on some pants and he drove Ford to the grocery store in case Hephzie was still there. When her motorcycle wasn't in the parking lot, they went to the movie-rental and checked there. A motorcycle caught their eye and Stan pulled up to it.

"See? She's fine." He said as they got out of the car.

Ford felt himself turn red and he got out of the Diablo with his head high. He saw part of a grocery bag poking out of one of the side-bags of Hephzie's motorcycle. Ford bent his knees and opened the left-satchel and smiled. He saw the bag of toffee-peanuts and the jelly-beans. Curious, Ford pulled out the receipt and read the time Hephzie had paid for her things.

"Stanley, Hephzie bought these snacks at 7:22."

"So?" Stan asked.

Ford checked his watch and that uneasy feeling in his stomach was back in full force. "It's 8:41."

"I'm not following." Stan said with a shrug, having no clue what his brother was getting at.

Ford looked up at his twin and prayed that he could point something out that would debunk Ford's fear. "It takes an hour and nineteen minutes to get here and choose a movie, one we already decided on seeing?"

Stan gave it some thought, and then shook his head. "Don't be paranoid, Poindexter." He checked the other satchel and said, "HA! See, she stopped by her favorite bar." Stan pulled out the six pack of beer-bottles and said, "She got some drinks to go with the snacks and probably got distracted talking to those friends of hers. Here," Stan plunged his hand around the satchel and pulled out a receipt and read the time off of that. "7:34. And I bet she chatted and stalled leaving after she bought the beers, too."

"Okay, okay," Ford said and put the receipt and groceries back in the motorcycle's satchel. "That's still a time-gap that's over an hour long."

"Well, go get Hephzie and tell her off for making us wait and for making you freak out." Stan said and leaned against the hood of his car with his arms crossed.

Ford rolled his eyes and went into the store. While he was gone, Stan chuckled under his breath over his brother's stupidity. He was always paranoid if Hephzie didn't come home when she said she would. Hephzie was so careful to get off work when she was scheduled or call if she was going to be late, but sometimes she was too busy to call at work and had to stay half an hour or a whole hour later. After this happening so many times, Ford never really got worried unless Hephzie was two hours late, which almost never happened. Stan could understand Ford's worry to some extent (Stan may not be married to Hephzie, but he saw her as a sister), but Hephzie was more than capable of taking care of herself and was very independent. She probably had some sort of explanation in that movie-rental that she was giving Ford right now that would make sense to him and they would soon all go home and be grossed out by that alien movie. Then they'd all get to make fun of Ford for a few weeks for being such a worry-wart.

Stan looked up in time to see Ford leaving the movie-rental. Stan stood up straight when he didn't see Hephzie with Ford, and he saw something in Ford's facial expression that he didn't like.

The author looked up at him with heavy eyes. "She's not in the store."

Now Stan was starting to get worried. Poor Hephzie was going to face two angry men very soon if this little scare didn't go away. "Are you sure?"

"The young man at the register says she came by an hour ago and left." Ford said, his knees and voice shaking like a hyper chihuahua. He was beginning to panic. "If her motorcycle is here, but she's not in the store, than where is she?" There was a hint of plea in his voice that made Stan's blood run cold.

Stan looked away from his worried twin to think. Ford was right; if Hephzie wasn't here, with her motorcycle, than where else would she be? There was a payphone out on the sidewalk in front of the movie-rental, so if the bike wouldn't start than she would have called the twins for help. Stan had a sickening feeling, the same feeling a farmer had before a storm, that Hephzie didn't leave her motorcycle on her own accord. That old instinct he had from living on the streets told him that, like an old friend whispering in his ear. Stan, who was looking over at the payphone, lost in thought, had his eyes caught when a nearby traffic light turned from green to red. There were two small cameras: one pointed to the four-way, and one pointed to the movie-rental.

Stan walked to the payphone, an idea fresh in his mind, and dug around in his pocket for some quarters.

Ford's eyes followed him even if his body didn't. "What are you doing?"

"Calling for help."

"The police?"

"Hell no. Those knit-whits couldn't find the vegan at the BBQ. No, if we want to find Hephzie, we're gonna have to do this ourselves." Stan said as he paid the toll and picked up the phone.

"Well then, who are you calling?" Ford asked and joined his brother at the phone.

Fiddleford was on his back porch, playing his banjo in the cool evening air. Early June was a lovely time of the year, especially when the sun went down. Tate had being tucked into bed by his mother right now, refusing to go to sleep if the sun was still awake (Fiddleford and Maddie agreed with his logic and allowed his bedtime to be 8:45). Fiddleford knew his presence would be wanted soon, so he finished the song and let the banjo to sit in his rocking chair so he could tuck his son in bed for the night. Just as he reached the hall, however, the phone rang.

Fiddleford answered cheerfully, but that cheerfulness was soon gone. "Fiddleford McGucket."

"Hey, Fidds."

"Hey, Stan! How are ya doin'?"

"Not too good. We need your help."

"Anythang."

"Can you use that computer of yours to hack into a traffic-light-camera and see what it got?"

Fiddleford was shocked, raked his brain to remember if it was possible, and then leaned against the wall with one hand in his pocket. "Uh… sure, yeah I can. Why? Did ya run a red-light?" He teased to try to lighten the mood, sensing the darkness in Stan's tone, but it didn't work.

"No."

A minute later, Fiddleford slammed the phone down and ran to the garage to grab his personal computer prototype, which has worked well so far, and he passed his son's room on his way out the door. Maddie was leaving it, cracking the door behind her, and she smiled at her husband.

"Hey, Tater wants…"

"I have t'go, sweetie." Fiddleford as calmly as he could. "Ford n' Stan need my help." He was trying to stay calm. His wife was three-months pregnant and he didn't want to worry or stress her, but Maddie was a clever woman and Fiddleford was a bad liar.

"Why, what's wrong?" She asked calmly.

Fiddleford sighed, held his forehead for a minute, and then said in a quiet voice so Tate wouldn't hear, "Hephzie's gone missin'."

The low rumbling and the little bumps woke her. Her head pounded like a drum where someone had hit her. Her brain moved slower than molasses on a Sunday, or however Fiddleford used that metaphor. She tried to lift herself up, but her hands were tied behind her back. She opened her eyes to see, but it was dark. She tried to lift her head up, but too soon she touched a ceiling made of metal.

Hephzie blinked a few times, her headache still apparent but her sleepiness was going away as adrenaline coursed through her veins. She breathed through her nose, unable to through her mouth since a piece of cloth was tied around her head and over her lips. She had been kidnapped like some Hollywood buddy-cop movie. What, were two cops of different races going to save her ass?

Hephzie was scared, her heart pounding, but she was determined to make it out of this and she couldn't think of a way out if fear clouded her head, so she took in a few deep breaths, laid as comfortable as she could on her side, and analyzed the situation.

She was in the trunk of a car, gagged and her hands were tied behind her back with rope. She could move her legs freely, they weren't tied together. The trunk was empty, but oil and mud stained the interior and the trunk was just big enough to hold her body; her legs had to be bent a certain way so she would fit, her knees close to her chest. Hephzie couldn't lie on her back with her legs out-stretched if she wanted to.

The car hit a big bump, making the trunk jump, and Hephzie was thrown to the hood of the trunk and hit just where she had been hit in the back of her head. She yelled muffly through the cloth that covered her mouth in frustration and growled to herself. Hephzie had the petty thought that they had hit that bump on purpose.

There was no way out of the trunk. Hephzie's hands were tied and she bet that it wouldn't matter. She couldn't open the trunk from the inside. Hephzie decided to pay close attention and wait until she was let out of the trunk.

A few minutes passed and the car stopped. Hephzie listened. It had stopped once or twice, at a red-light perhaps, but this time the car shut off. Hephzie toyed with the idea of pretending to be asleep when they came to the trunk, but she didn't have enough faith in her playing-possum act. Best to cooperate with whoever would open the trunk and wait for a chance to escape.

Hephzie heard footsteps on pavement and a click of a key in the trunk. She tried to steady her racing heart as the trunk opened and two strong men stood there, each branded with colorful tattoos and scars. They each pulled Hephzie up by under her arms and made her stand on her feet. She stood strong and suddenly felt something cold touch her back and heard the click of a gun.

"We don't need to tell you not to run, do we, señora?" The man holding the gun asked in a Hispanic accent.

Hephzie shook her head as the other man held one of her arms painfully tight and walked her away from the car. They were in a garage or a shed of some sort. Hephzie didn't get a good look at the car, it was too dark, but it's shape reminded her of Stan's Diablo. The place had three walls, the missing wall letting in dim moonlight and chirping night-bugs. The men walked Hephzie passed the car and to a beat-up door of the worn shed. The one walking her opened the door and the second man pushed her ahead.

Hephzie looked around the room and tried to take it all in calmly. It looked like this place used to be a game room, but it was so old and worn and cold that it hardly shared the comfort a real living room should. There was a moth-eaten couch and a bar that were all occupied by a gang of men. Many looked Latino, but some were black and some were white. One man with long, oily brown hair, a pointy nose, and an eye-patch sat in an armchair and smoked a cigar like he was a member of the mafia or something. He smiled at Hephzie as one man closed the door and locked it three times.

"Hola, Hephzie."

Hephzie glared daggers at him and waited to find out what he wanted.