A/N: Welcome! So, this has been a fic idea that that has been stuck in my head since A Tale of Two Stans. I wanted to write something that showed how Stanley grew up, how he dealt with everything over the years. I got inspired to write this after listening to the song Bet My Life, by Imagine Dragons. Also, by the fact my dad and brother keep saying that Stan is nothing but a crook and a cheat. I've always loved Stan and wanted to write him as something more than that. I tried to keep as close to in character as possible, but if you think I messed up, please tell me so that I can correct it.

Also, if you see any mistakes, please let me know. I wrote this story while on vacation in Vegas using my iPod, so autocorrect might have messed things up. I've reread this chapter many times, but you never know.

I had originally planned on making this story only about 3,000-6,000 words, but something went wrong and now it has over 20,000, and I'm not done (though I'm close). Whoops. Ah well. Hopefully you all will like it. Please leave a comment! Constructive criticism is always appreciated, as long as you're kind.

General Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING. This all belongs to Alex Hirsch, Disney, and whoever else owns Gravity Falls.

~~~I know I took the path that you would never want for me~~~
~~~I know I let you down, didn't I?~~~

Stanford Pines. A simple name. Eight letters for the first, 5 letters for the last. A name so, so similar, but not quite the same as his own.

Stanford Pines. A genius. A scientist. An inventor. The golden child, the gifted one. The one everyone always looked up to. The one he always looked up to.

Stanford Pines. The name of the man he betrayed. The name that echoed in his head every time he went to sleep. The name that went with the face that haunted his dreams.

Stanford Pines. The name he stole.

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

Stanley stood in the doorway of their pawn shop, a grin on his face and a bruise on his eye. Twelve years old and full of life, he raced up the creaking steps and burst into their apartment, proudly displaying the golden medal that he wore around his neck. He spotted his father sitting at the table in the kitchen and grinned widely at him.

"Dad look, I won a medal! First place and everythin'!" The boy hollered, pride radiating off of him. When his father had first signed him up for boxing a year or so previously, he had been terrible, unable to land a single punch. But he had worked hard at it, spending days in the gym to gain muscle on his lean form, and now here he was, a medal of his own shining brightly on his chest! It would have been better if his family had been there cheering him on, but he knew they were busy. After all, Ford had a spelling bee to prepare for and his parents had their work.

Stanley waited anxiously as his father looked him over, his face as stone cold and impassive as ever. When his father's eyes landed on his medal, the only acknowledgement he got was a small humph before the man went back to the newspaper he had previously been reading. Stanley tried not to let it get him down. His father had more important things to do than pay attention to his simple medal.

Entering the parlor, he spotted his mother sitting in her favorite window alcove, filing her nails down. His grin resurfacing, Stanley raced over to her and bounced up and down as he excitedly showed her the medal. She always was more proud of him and his hobbies than his father was, so he was hoping for a more excited reception.

"Ma, ma, look! I won a medal, first place! Do ya see?!" The boy exclaimed, his grin overtaking his face as he leaned on his mother's lap, practically shoving the medal in her face. He felt thin but deceptively strong arms push him away, causing him to stumble a bit over his feet. He saw a look of annoyance pass over his mother's face, causing his grin to dim slightly.

"Alright, Stanley, I see it! Calm down, yeesh. Can't ya see I'm busy? Why don'tcha go show your medal to Ford, let mommy finish her business, hmm?" The woman said, her eyes already flicking back to her hand. Stanley's grin faded off of his face as he nodded slowly, trying not to let the hurt show. His mother was busy, it made sense that she wouldn't pay attention to him right then. Maybe later.

"Sorry, Ma. I'll leave ya be."

His pace a bit slower than it was originally, Stanley finally made his way to the bedroom he shared with his brother. Feeling slightly downtrodden at his parents' lackluster enthusiasm, he slowly opened the door and looked around, eyes quickly spotting his twin sitting on his bed, a pen in his mouth and a long list of words in front of him. A small grin found its way back to his face as he took in the sight.

"You still lookin' ova those words? Don'tcha know you'll go blind if ya stare at words too much? Plus, ya already know 'em, what's the point in readin' 'em over an' over?"

His grin grew at the exasperated look his twin threw him.

"I gotta make sure I know them, Stan. The spelling bee's tomorrow and I hafta be ready!" The slighter boy exclaimed in exasperation, rolling his eyes at his brother's antics. He did a double take, however, once he noticed the bruise his brother carried over his left eye.

"Woah, how'd ya get that shiner?" Pushing his list of words aside and setting down the pen, the boy stalked over to his brother, a frown on his face. Stanley grinned proudly as he held up his medal.

"I won my boxin' match!" Stanley stated, a smug look passing over his face, "Somethin' you'd never be able to do, Poindexter."

Stanford's frown deepened as he took in the medal that his brother now had in his hands, holding it triumphantly in the air. "Ah shoot. That was today? Why didn't ya remind me Stan? You know I'd've been there had I known!"

"Hey, don't sweat it bro! It's all good. Ya just missed me punchin' out Jessie Goodman, that's all. Knew ya hadta study for your nerd bee tomarra, didn't wanna distract you or anythin'." Stanley said, though a happy flush flooded his face at his brother's words. He knew Ford would care about his match, it wasn't his brother's fault he had something important he needed to study for. However, now that he was back, maybe Ford could take a break... Studying too much was never a good thing, in his opinion.

Focussing back on his brother, he noticed that the slighter boy's frown remained, his head shaking in disagreement. "Still. I wanted to be there for ya, Stan. I know how important this was for you."

"Well, ya can come to the next one, alright? Now," the boy said, wanting to appease his brother's guilt as he put an arm around his brother, a grin on his face while he dragged him over to their pillow fort, "why don't I tell you all about my win, huh? That'll make up for ya not bein' there. And, ya can take a break from all that... Learnin' and stuff, listen to somethin' interestin' for once. Ya game?"

"Mmkay Stan. But first, let me see ta your eye, 'kay? It looks pretty nasty, an' I don't want it ta get infected or anything. Ya don't want your eye to hafta get removed, do'ya?" Ford chimed, pulling away gently from his brother's grip to get the first aid kit he kept by his bed for situations such as this. Stanley followed, grumbling about not needing to be babied, but allowed his brother to do as he wished, sitting on the bed to make it easier for Ford to reach.

Taking out the antiseptic and the bruise cream, Ford cleaned the eye gently before putting the cream over the top. He made sure to be as gentle as possible, though Stanley still winced occasionally, causing the slighter boy to stop and confirm his brother was alright before continuing. Once done, Ford put the kit back and followed his brother to their fort, settling in next to Stanley as the boy told an exaggerated tale of how he singlehandedly took out five guys all at once. Ford always enjoyed his brother's tales, even if they were beyond preposterous.

By the time Stanley was done with his epic tale, both boys were relaxed and comfortable in their little nook, neither wanting to move away from the other. Stanley felt a little smile tug on his lips as he felt his brother rest his head on his shoulder, feeling content and happy.

"Hey, Stan?" Ford mumbled several moments later, breaking the comfortable silence that had befallen the room. Stanley lazily looked down at his brother, an eyebrow raised.

"Whadda ya want, Sixer?"

"You gotta be more careful, ya know, when you're boxing. You don't wanna lose anymore brain cells, do'ya?

"Hey, are you makin' fun of me? Not all of us have brains like yours, smarty-pants."

"No! I just... Don't wanna see ya hurt, Stan. You're my brother. So... Please be careful? Please?"

Stanley blinked at the look his twin gave him, taken aback at the sincerity in his brother's eyes. Giving the slighter boy a quick grin and a small shoulder squeeze, Stanley replied, "sure, Poindexter. I'll be extra careful in the future, 'kay? I promise."

"Mmkay. Jus' as long as ya make sure ta try. Don't wantcha bein' all brain dead. You'd be no fun, then." Ford joked, nudging Stanley in the shoulder, causing the bulkier boy to chuckle and shove playfully back.

"As if. I'll always be around ta annoy ya, Fordie. Don'tcha worry. Now, Imma gonna get us some snacks from the kitchen, wait here." Stanley said as he got up, scurrying quickly to get something for the two to eat, as he was famished due to the earlier fight. He didn't notice the concerned look that Ford sent after him, nor the soft sigh the boy let out as he frowned deeply at the medal his brother had handed him to look at.