Basics of this au: Fidds moved in with Ford to study anomalies for good when his wife dumped him, taking Tate with her. Ford basically forces himself to forget he has a brother for nearly twenty years when one day he gets a phone call from a determined, yet compassionate doctor.
She might have felt bad had it not been so severe.
The man was forced unconscious, having struggled like his life depended on it after being found half-dead by a young woman who was leaving work after dark, having finished her shift at the local grocery store. The man seemed determined not to leave with the medical personel after the woman dialed 911. Although, she was sure the man was only delirious and wouldn't have fought so hard had he been lucid.
His wounds were dire and had the women found him any later, he might not have made it. With six broken ribs- one of them puncturing his left lung- and several fractures, on his arms, legs, and even head, she was surprised he had managed to stay awake, much less fight the way he did.
That wasn't even mentioning the blood loss and the stitches he required after being cut all along his torso.
The man was certainly in more than a horrible condition. He was a miracle, to be honest. After the beating he'd taken, she thought that he must have the heart of a racehorse, the way it kept on beating.
At the moment, however, she wasn't worried about his physical wounds.
Just the mental ones.
Who was this man? Why was he nearly beaten to death, left to die in an alleyway? She was sure he was going to make it, that was perfectly clear, the way he acted, he was clearly a fighter. But that didn't mean he'd leave and suddenly be fine. No one was fine after something like this.
She would know.
That was why she was trying her darndest to find something about him. About his identity. If she could find even his initials, it might help her with her mission.
She was going to find his next of kin.
Okay, so maybe it was a far-fetched idea, but most everyone had at least one person they knew, right? Sure, this man didn't have an identity at the moment, but that didn't mean he didn't have an emergency contact? Someone, to help him out?
That's why she was digging through his pockets. His clothes had been folded away and placed on a chair beside his bed. She looked up at him for a moment.
He looked...unhappy. Even in sleep. The thought made her sigh.
Placing the empty jacket to the side, she reached for his jeans.
This was definitely not one of her proudest moments. She dug through the two back pockets.
Nothing.
She dived half-heartedly into the last two pockets and gave a small yelp. She quickly withdrew her finger, sucking on the small cut there. A realization came over her and she reached back toward's them, pulling out a sharply folded piece of paper.
Please don't be trash, please don't be trash...
She unfolded it and a smaller paper from within fell out, falling to the floor. She quickly scooped it up again before her eyes returned to the original object.
It was a photo. Presumably, it was the man, much younger, and...someone else.
They were both docked up with boxing gear. That wasn't what made her gasp.
They were positively identical. Both of them grinning wide with matching smiles.
Twins! This man has a twin!
This man has a twin. She stopped for a moment to look back up at his hardened frown and her excitement drained. Oh dear. She hesitantly flipped the photo over.
Stanley and Stanford- boxing tournament.
The doctor hummed. So his name was either Stanley or Stanford? Who would name both their twins Stan? It seemed a little cruel to her. She turned to the second shred of paper. It was even more worn down than the photograph, although neither had any tears in their edges. They were well loved.
The second piece of paper was smudged and old, but no less eligible. It was another name and a number:
Ford
971-776-890
She blinked. Well, that's convenient.
Mission accomplished, almost.
...
She made it to the phone at the front desk, basically telling the lazy receptionist to move, which he did. She swore he was the most useless thing in the entire building and considering they had a morgue, that was saying something. She sat down, ignoring when Zac- the receptionist- started sipping loudly on his drink. Although it was more like 'try to ignore'. She was trying to deliver painful news, for goodness sakes!
The phone started ringing and she tapped the desk rhythmically with her fingers, tension filling her abdomen. This wasn't going to be a happy phone call.
She just hoped someone picked up.
Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring! She sighed Ring! Ring!- click.
Hello? What can I do fer ya?
She blinked. "Um, Is this a Ford? A possible Stanford speaking?"
"No, but I can git 'em fer ya. What is it ya need?"
She wasn't sure what to say other than- "It's about his brother."
"...What? Brother? Stanferd doesn't have ah-"
"Fiddleford? Who are you talking to?"
"This lady is talkin' about you havin' a brother or someth- hey!"
"Greetings, this is Stanford Pines, who are you and what do you know?"
Well that was...abrupt. Taking a deep breath, she tried to keep her voice professional.
"Hello, Mr. Pin-"
"It's Doctor. Doctor Pines."
Oh. Well then. She cleared her throat. "Alright, Dr. Pines. I'm a doctor myself at a hospital in Colorado. Grandview medical center and I've some news. I found this number in his pocket, and without any ID I thought-"
"Please, just get on with it. What was it you were saying about my brother?"
Rude. This man had no people skills. This was hard enough! She huffed.
"Alright, do you want the long version or the-"
"Short please."
She deadpanned. "He's been beaten to near death and is lying in a hospital bed."
Silence. All she could hear was the light static of someone breathing into the mic.
Okay, this guy was ticking her off. "Sir?"
"I'll be right there."
She nearly groaned in relief. Finally, a half decent response. "My name is Doctor Clare Johnson and the hospital-"
"I'll find you. Good day, Dr. Johnson." The phone clicked and she was suddenly cut off.
Well then.
Idk if this makes sense. I kept cutting away from writing to scroll through Tumblr because I'm a piece of trash. Hehe, anyway. I thought this up this morning while I was lying in bed, trying to go back to sleep because it was way too early and I just had to write it.
Basically, I'm calling it the 20 years au.
I hope this made sense. :3 don't die all! MAN I NEED TO UPDATE SO MUCH WHY AM I DOING THIS-