"I love you, Fiddleford."
Multiple emotions flashed across his assistant's face in quick succession. At first there was a slight widening of his eyes and raising of his eyebrows, as if hopeful. But that only crossed his face for a moment. His lips parted slightly in shock. Or was it disappointment? His mouth closed and he clenched his teeth together. Anger lingered on his visage for but a milisecond, then his expression finally settled on what seemed to be skepticism. Then finally, a reply.
"I don't believe you."
"What?"
"I don't believe you." Fiddleford repeated. He turned back to his work of checking and rechecking his calculations.
"Fiddleford, why would I lie to you about something like this?" Frustration bubbled up within Ford. He finally had the courage to vocalize his feelings, and he doubted him? He was at his most vulnerable, and he shot him down? Just flat-out refused to to acknowledge what he'd said as the truth?
"Because you lie about where you're coming up with this!" Fiddleford slammed the stack of papers in his hands onto the table, then threw his arms up in exasperation. The papers were littered with the complex equations that his Muse had provided him with for the construction of the portal. Ford furrowed his brow and watched his old roommate swivel on his chair to face him again. "I know you didn't come up with this yourself." An accusatory finger was jabbed in his direction. "These equations are going to require types of proofs that don't exist yet! The kind of calculations you've got here… It's a whole new branch of mathematics. It might seem simple working backwards, but it's nothing any human being will figure out on their own within the next fifty years. You're a smart man, Stanford, but I'll be damned if you're not getting outside help from somewhere."
"I can't believe you'd doubt my work." Ford replied bitterly, though guilt had risen inside him. "I've worked long and hard on these calculations. It didn't just come to me in a day. Besides, if my work is really as advanced as you say, who could I possibly be getting help from?" He was lying through his teeth, of course. But he needed Fiddleford's help to complete the portal, and if he found out about his Muse, he feared paranoia would overwhelm him and he would quit the project. It was necessary to keep this a secret. For the greater good.
Still, part of Ford wanted to tell him everything. It was clear that there was no way he would believe anything he said as long as he was still keeping secrets. He loved Fiddleford, but was the truth worth the possibility of his life's work falling apart? Was a relationship really more important than this discovery, than finally being recognized for his genius? Was this one man more important to him than everything he'd ever worked to achieve?
No.
"I've seen enough strangeness in this town to know there ought to be something out there that can do the job. You've been in Gravity Falls far longer than I have. You've probably encountered things I can't even imagine." Fiddleford countered.
Of course he had. He could brag all day about everything that he'd discovered. He puffed out his chest a little and a small smirk crossed his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but faltered. His old friend was trying to fool him with flattery. He'd almost slipped up. And it had almost worked. Clever. Fiddleford's intellect was one reason why he the aspiring scientist had grown to love him in the first place. But now, it was simply getting in his way.
"Your thoughts are running away with you again." Ford replied coolly. "Sure, this town might have a high concentration of anomalies, but what's the likelihood something could give me this kind of information just like that?" He snapped his fingers for effect.
Fiddleford rocketed to his feet. He shoved the chair away from him, sending it toppling over. His facial features scrunched together, contorting into an expression of anger. "I wish you would stop doing that!" He screamed. "Acting like it's all in my head!" He clenched his hair in his hands and pulled, ripping out chunks of it.
Ford's expression softened. He couldn't stand it when he had to watch him do that. "Fiddleford…" He reached out a hand toward him.
His friend flinched away from his touch. Was he… Crying? "If you really loved me, you wouldn't do this! You wouldn't lie! You wouldn't make me doubt myself because you would know how hard it already is for me to keep my head on straight!" His partner walked briskly toward the spiral staircase on the lefthand side of the study, every footfall loud and pronounced.
"Fiddleford, wait!"
The other turned to look back at him over his shoulder, one foot on the first step and one hand on the railing. His eyes were filled with tears, but his gaze was cold. "Love means trust that goes both ways." His tone was strangely level and calm now. "You can't expect me to believe you love me when you don't trust me, Stanford." With that, he started up the staircase.
Ford was left standing there in the middle of his study, staring after him. All he could do was put his face in his hands and hope not to cry. As his assistant ascended, he thought he could hear him whisper under his breath.
"And I don't trust you."