Disclaimer: I only own Gravity Falls and its characters in my dreams. Though in that case, I'm not owning them, I'm just interacting with them.

Bridging the Gap

The Final Con

We're in quite a pickle this time, Stan couldn't help but think. Sure, he'd been in his fair share of scrapes before, from prison all the way to trying to fix an interdimensional portal, but he had never felt as cornered as he did now.

Nothing could be as bad as hearing the scrambling noises of destruction as Mabel and Dipper attempted to outrun that demonic triangle.

Stan scowled and slammed his hand against the bars, ignoring the way Ford started and stared at him. He took a step back and began to pace. He hated just waiting around and doing nothing, he always had. He was a doer, not a waiter nor a planner like Ford. He had to actually do something or he'd go crazy.

And they really needed a better plan at the moment than Ford's idea of just giving up.

He sighed and closed his eyes, thinking over the situation.

Bill Cipher was a cocky, son-of-a-gun that seemed to be holding all of the cards. The only thing he didn't have was the code or formula or whatever that was in Ford's brain. They couldn't try the circle thingy again as most of their friends were now decorative banners. They did have this memory gun that could erase the demonic Dorito from existence, but it wouldn't work on Ford because he'd put a metal plate in his head to specifically ward off Bill. Now if they could get the dang triangle in his own mind, they could erase him, but the thing only wanted –

The answer hit Stan like a freight train. It was just too obvious.

Stan blinked for a moment before, wondering how he could have missed this before. Quite frankly, I've pulled off way harder cons in the past, he thought with a sad smile growing on his face. This will be easy.

After all, I've been doing this particular trick for most of my life.

And the cocky ones always lapped up lies the easiest.

"Ford," he called to his brother as he reached up to undo his string tie. They didn't have much time, so he immediately continued as soon as his brother looked at him. "I've got a plan. Strip." He kicked off his shoes.

"What?!" Ford yelped, his arms instantly coming up to shield himself. "Why?"

"Start taking off your clothes and I'll explain." Stan growled. As Ford still wasn't moving, he rolled his eyes. He stopped in the middle of taking off his pants. "Look, he wants that formula in your head, but the memory gun won't work on you."

At Ford's nod of confirmation, he continued, "But it will work on me." Ford gave a small, confused nod, but he still seemed to have trouble putting the puzzle pieces together. Stan sighed again. For being so smart, his brother could be incredibly slow at times. "So, it's simple," he said as he stepped out of his pants, "we switch places and you erase him from my mind."

Ford reeled back in shock, surprising Stan. "No!" He firmly said. "You can't be serious!"

"I'm currently standing in the floating pyramid of a psychotic triangle without my pants on." Stan drily replied, meeting his brother's eyes. "I'm very serious about this." He began to shrug off his jacket. "Now, c'mon, Poindexter, take off your clothes."

"You can't!" Ford practically shouted, and Stan wondered if he was imagining the way his voice quivered. "Do you even know what this will mean for you?"

"Bill's gone, the kids are safe, things go back to the normal levels of weirdness, the end." Stan started to unbutton his shirt. It was pretty obvious to him what to expect.

"I'll have to erase you." Ford's voice was so quiet, Stan almost missed it. But he didn't and he looked up into Ford's wide, frightened gaze. "The only way to get rid of Bill is to completely erase you. Your memories, your personality, all the things that make you you," he emphasized his words with a wave of his hand, "all gone."

Stan paused. Admittedly, he hadn't known it would be quite that extensive, but…

"And you were willing to use it on yourself?" Stan raised an eyebrow at him. His decision hadn't changed with this new information.

Ford's face flushed in indignation. "Yes, but that was different!"

"But nothing! It's exactly the same!" Stan argued before he huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, do you want to save the kids?"

"What? Of course I do, how could you – "

"Then we have to do this." Stan said with utmost seriousness. He walked over to Ford and placed his hands on his shoulders. "Look, just this once, can you trust me? Please."

He watched the emotions at war on his brother's face, but finally resignation filled it and Ford's shoulders slumped. "Fine." He shook off Stan's hands and then shrugged out of his trench coat, pulling out the memory gun and setting it to the side.

Stan nodded and gave Ford some space as he finished undressing himself. He knew that this was the best option. Like he said, his brain wasn't good for anything, and Ford had so much going for him that he deserved a chance to make his own way without Stan holding him back.

Heck, everyone would be better without him in the way, and he'd rather go out saving the kids than anything else. This was fine.

This was all his fault. He should be the one to pay the price.

Stan finished undressing and gathered up his clothes, ready to hand them over. As he turned, it was the first time he'd seen his brother without his sweater or coat since he'd got back. He was glad that though there were some scars, there were not as many as he'd feared for years. The tattoos were a surprise. They were bright and colorful in a way that Mabel would approve, but that one on his neck…

"Not. A. Word." Ford growled as he turned and glared at him at the snickers that escaped. He took off his glasses and put them on top of his stack of clothes.

"I didn't say anything." Stan said, removing his own glasses. "Luckily, I won't remember to tease you about it later." He tried to lighten the mood. He couldn't see for crap at the moment, but somehow, he could just feel that Ford's expression hadn't changed from somber resignation.

They quickly changed into the others' clothes. Stan stuffed the sixth fingers on Ford's gloves with some random Stan Bucks he'd found in his own pockets and slipped them on.

"How did you somehow end up with worse vision than me?" Ford griped as he squinted through Stan's lenses and attempted to tie the string around his neck in a bow. Stan didn't see how he was complaining as Ford's glasses only helped him a bit, but he just shrugged at that as it's not like it was any better than what he usually could see.

After watching Ford struggle for a few moments, Stan sighed and went over to him, quickly tying it. His brother watched him, opening and closing his mouth like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. Stan let him, but that's when it hit him.

"Just one more thing." Stan said, and he took of his fez, dropping it on Ford's head for him to adjust it as he needed to. He ran his hands through his own hair, trying to make it floof up like his brother's did. Then, he walked over to the bars of their cage, knowing it wouldn't be long now.

"Stanley." Ford came up beside him, fiddling with his fingers.

"Don't fiddle with 'em. You'll draw attention to them." Stan ordered. He knew his brother was self-conscious about them and he hated to take away his coping technique, but that would easily give them away.

Ford immediately dropped his hands, curling them around the bars. "Stanley, we can still – "

"No. We can't." Stan spared him a glance, before closing his eyes. "We have to do this. For the kids."

"For the kids." Ford weakly agreed, because if there was only one thing they agreed on, it was that those two kids that had brightened their life were to be protected.

With his eyes closed, Stan pictured his mind. This would be the final piece to the con. According to the kids, Bill had been in there before, and he'd spent plenty of time in Ford's head. He'd have to fool him to buy time to erase him.

He imagined a blank space with just a single door. Behind the door, he placed everything: his memories, feelings, all the good and bad in his life. He took a moment to appreciate each shard of memory that passed before his mind's eye. After all, he wouldn't have them for long. There'd be nothing for Bill to find until he opened that door, and by then, it'd be too late for the triangle.

The sound of booming footsteps and a triumphant cackle came from the hallway, and Stan opened his eyes.

"Stanley…" Ford still looked like he desperately wanted to say something, but it was too late.

Stan straightened and cleared his throat.

This was going to be his final con.

And by Moses, he was going to make it the best job he'd ever done.

AN: So I've wanted to write the missing scene of Stan and Ford switching clothes ever since the finale, so, yay, I've finally written it. However, this is going to be a series of one shots that all happen in the finale, because I had some other ideas/perspectives of things that I wanted to get in. I hope you enjoy it.

Hey, this is actually a good work for Stanuary too! You won't have to wait for the next one shot. Next time, let's see what was going through Ford's head as he set-up the memory gun.