A scream rang through the cabin of the Stan O' War II. Ford, who had stayed up late to work on his research, recognized the scream of terror as his brother, Stan. He stopped what he was doing and ran to their shared bedroom.

He couldn't remember anything. He woke up with images of demonic triangles, terrified children, and sad old men flashing through his mind, but he didn't understand what they meant. As if he wasn't freaked out enough, he didn't recognize his surroundings. In fact, he couldn't recall his own name. He was downright terrified when a man suddenly burst through the door.

"Stanley, are you alright? What happened?"

He didn't know. He didn't know if he was alright. He didn't even know what was going on. He backed away from the stranger not knowing if he was a threat or not. "Who…who are you?"

Ford sighed. Stan was having another memory lapse, and it looked like this was a particularly bad one. Usually, Stan's episodes were minor moments of forgetfulness, and they would calmly work through them. But now, Stan was shaking and looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

"My name is Stanford." Ford sat down on the bed. "I'm your brother, Stanford. You also like to call me Ford or Sixer."

"Why…why do I call you Sixer?" He showed Stan his hand. "Oh."

"Your name is Stan, Stanley Pines. Do you remember that?"

"No, I don't remember. I don't remember you or me or anything."

"It's alright, Stanley, calm down." Ford reached for his brother, but Stan recoiled away from him. Ford tried not let it hurt his feelings. He knew Stan was just confused and didn't mean it.

How did Stan know he could trust this man? What if he kidnapped him? What if the reason his mind was fuzzy was because he drugged him or something?

"Stanley, I know you're scared, but you don't have to be scared of me. I would never do anything to hurt you."

Stan looked into his eyes, and somehow, he knew he was telling the truth. His fear was replaced with sadness. He felt like he had lost something important to him. Even though he didn't know what it was, he desperately wanted it back. He threw himself into Ford's chest and howled.

"Shh, shh, shh, don't cry. I'm here. I'm here." Ford had one hand in Stan's hair while the other rubbed his back. "Shh..."

Stan still had no idea who the man comforting him even was. All he knew was that he felt safe in his arms. He never wanted him to let go.

"I'm sorry," Stan whispered.

"Don't be. It's not your fault." Ford pulled away so that the two of them were facing each other. "You don't know who you are right now but I do. You're my brother, and I love you with all my heart."

"I love you too." The words came out of Stan's mouth almost instinctively. He didn't know anything else, but he knew he loved Stanford. Maybe he didn't know why right now, but God, he loved him so much.

"Sleep now." Ford laid his brother down. "Everything will be better when you wake up."

"What if I forget you again?" Stan grabbed his brother's arm afraid to break contact with his only anchor to the life he's forgotten.

"Even if you do, it's okay because you'll come back."

"How do you know?"

"You always do."

Stan didn't know what that meant, but his brother's faith in him gave him confidence. "You'll still be here when I wake up, right?"

"Of course I will." Ford pulled the covers over Stan. "I'll always be here."

That was all Stan needed to let himself close his eyes. Ford rubbed the top of Stan's head, and he fell asleep under his brother's gentle touch. Ford tucked the covers around him and kissed his forehead.

"Goodnight, Stanley. See you in the morning."