Ford stormed out of the elevator, Stanley's words echoing in his mind. Thank you? The man had ignored all logic and warnings, ruined his chances to defeat Bill, and he wanted a thank you?
If the portal had opened even moments later, Bill would be gone. Thirty years, thirty years of work only for Stanley to mess it up again. Bill was still a threat to this dimension. Sophie had-Ford's breath hitched and he clenched his fists. Sophie had given her life so Ford could defeat the demon. The last glimpse of her bright green eyes, so fierce and determined and young, burned in his memory like an accusation.
"Uncle Ford," she had called him. The girl had been the light of his life, a balm to his decades of loneliness. She had filled in the gaping hole in his heart with her crooked smile and goofy puns. Skilled as she was with her sword and throwing knives, she was just as quick to show affection with bear hug or a hand on the shoulder.
Ford had sworn to keep her safe from the moment he saw her enter that crime lord's camp, rescued her from the enemy's clutches despite her initial protests. She was so full of fire, but still so young; he had still been in high school at her age. He had-Ford leaned heavily on his desk as a tear slipped down his cheek. He had loved Sophie like she was his own child, and now she was gone.
He sank to his knees, finally allowed the tears to fall that he'd been holding back along with everything else. Sophie's life had been far too difficult and far too short. He should have left her behind in that parallel world, ignored when she had insisted on coming with him. She would have hated him for it, but at least she would still be alive.
Mabel and Dipper reminded him so much of her that it hurt. Stan had told him to stay away from the kids. Difficult as that would be, perhaps it was the best course of action.
Ford wiped his face on his coat sleeve and spotted a toolbox poking out from under the desk. He pulled it out, picked up a crowbar and a hammer, and went into the larger room where the remains of the portal lay like the skeleton of a great beast. The triangle was his first target.
He pried the panels apart with the crowbar and watched with grim satisfaction as they fell with a clang. This machine, this monument to his hubris, had cost him far too much to stay standing any longer.
"No more," he growled as he pried another panel loose and watched it crash to the ground. He channeled his grief for everything that life beyond the portal had taken from him. He channeled his anger at Stan for ruining his life, at Bill for ruining it further, at himself for falling prey to Bill's flattery...and for not protecting Sophie like he should have.
When the last panel fell, he took out the hammer and pounded on the metal until every piece was bent out of shape. He wiped the sweat from his brow took a moment to survey his work...and felt a thrill of fear.
Near where the base of the portal used to be floated a dark, glittery substance, like a tiny liquid galaxy. Ford rushed to the other room as his gut knotted with dread. He quickly assembled a small containment unit and carefully scooped the rift into the glass dome, sealing it in...for now. He hoped it would hold.
He ran a hand through his hair and released a weary sigh. He was home...or was he? "Home is where the heart is" echoed in his thoughts and he huffed a bitter laugh. If that saying was true, he didn't belong anywhere; he still hadn't quite wrapped his head around the fact that he was back in his own house after thirty long years and hundreds of dimensions.
Of all the infinite possibilities that could have happened in the multiverse, this was the one he had least expected. He thought that killing Bill would be the end, and either he would die or spend the rest of his days as a wanderer, perhaps try to find his way back to Dimension 52. Yet here he was. Like it or not, Stan had probably saved his life...but was it worth the cost?
Ford rested his hand over the gold handprint on his old journal. His other journal, carried with him during the last decade or so of his multiversal exploits, was left in Sophie's backpack. He took a deep breath as tears filled his eyes and threatened to fall again.
He flipped through his old journal and found several pages of new entries written in blue ink. He pinched the bridge of his nose; there would be time to deal with that later. For now he turned to the first blank page and began to write.
Against all odds, I'm back.