A/N: be warned of some mentions of lots of blood coming up... no graphic/gorey descriptions or anything, just mentions of bloodflow and arteries.

"The passage of time was... difficult as I traveled through the multiverse," Ford began.

"Sometimes, what would have been a week for you passed by in such a way that felt to me like years. Other times, I could see myself aging, my facial hair growing, my bones becoming weaker, and yet the time that passed for me was but a single afternoon. Eventually, I was able to construct a device that could keep track of the way that time was passing in this dimension, but it was bizarre to compare it to the relative passage of time the way that I was experiencing it. As best as I can tell, however, it was about ten years ago when I first entered Dimension 17R-Q. I had stumbled into it as I was running away from some of the people who were searching for me."

"Searchin' for ya? What'd they want?"

"My... relationship with Bill Cipher earned bounties on my head in several dimensions. The knowledge that I had was invaluable in many ways. Not to mention the many stolen pieces of technology in my possession. Luckily, none of the bounties would be paid if I wasn't turned in alive.

"Dimension 17R-Q seemed to be a sort of paradise at first. There was no apparent sign of civilization anywhere near my entry point into the dimension, just yellow grasses and crystalline mountains as far as my eyes could see. It was beautiful. It really was. But I was only able to enjoy the landscape about thirty-five seconds before I was knocked unconscious. I woke up in a cold, dark room with tied hands and blood matting the hair on the back of my head."

"I know how that feels," Stan muttered without thinking.

Ford furrowed his brow, looking up at his brother. "Do you?"

Stan swallowed thickly.

Deep headache. Immobile legs. Ropes cutting into wrists. Pitch darkness making it impossible to see. Thick tongue and scratchy throat making it painful to speak. 'Dónde estoy?'

No answer. The sound of an engine roaring, jolting the car into motion. The realization sinking in. 'Para el coche! Yo te daré la plata! Te lo voy a dar!'

Claustrophobia setting in. Breathing becoming difficult. Desperation growing.

Cracked teeth, bloody tongue, torn lips from chewing the latch off of the trunk. Bruised skin, broken bones, skinned face from tumbling out onto the road. Adrenaline supplying the strength to roll off the side of the freeway as cars speeding at 80 miles per hour swerved around the body, honking angrily.

"No. I mean, don't worry about it. Keep goin'."

Ford eyed Stan suspiciously. "You remembered something."

"Not enough to talk about. I'll wait my turn."

After a long moment of hesitation, Ford continued. "The first thing that I noticed after waking up was that it smelled like blood... God, it smelled so much like blood. Then, I noticed that whoever had taken me had stripped me of everything that I kept in my coat. As my pupils adjusted to the darkness, I could see that there were two men there.

"When they saw that I was awake they asked me who I was. That was when I realized they hadn't captured me for the sake of the bounty. They were criminals, wanted by the law just the same as I was. But I couldn't risk them finding out about the bounty and turning me in, so I didn't answer.

"They apparently were not fans of my silence; they were quick to punch me in the face. But I'd endured pain much worse than that, so I was easily able to suppress any reaction."

"Oh, I bet that pissed 'em off. They wanna see ya writhe in pain."

Ford glanced back up at his twin, a deep disturbance in the pit of his stomach creasing his brow and setting a deep frown in his face.

Stan waved a hand dismissively. "I'll wait my turn," he repeated.

"Well, you're correct. It pissed them off. Luckily, they couldn't really figure out how to use any of the weapons that they'd stolen off of me, so they weren't able to blow off my entire arm or disintegrate me to ash. What they did do, however, they picked up a highly dangerous axionic field generator and start beating me over the head with it."

"A what?"

Ford sighed, resisting the urge to actually explain the device. He knew that whatever he said to explain the danger of a vacuum-like field of cold dark matter would go right over Stan's head. "A really big gun."

"Ohh."

"So they knocked me around, broke my nose, dislocated my jaw. They just kept asking me who I was. They had apparently been following me for quite some time, but they must have been pretty dense to not have realized how rich they could be if they turned me in. I figured it was only a matter of time before they realized who I was, so I decided to answer their questions with lies to throw them off of my trail." Ford closed his eyes, remembering how painful it had been to speak after the men had knocked his jaw out of place.

"So, who'd ya say ya were?"

"I used the first name that came to mind, a name that I knew they wouldn't recognize: Fiddleford McGucket."

Stan grinned, jabbing an accusatory finger at his brother. "Ha! See, you're no better than me! Ya took your friend's name to cover your ass! It's the same thing I did!"

The author scoffed. "I never stole his house, his research, and his identity, nor did I commit a series of felonies under his name, but sure. We're basically on the same moral level, here."

There was a thick moment of silence between the brothers before the older twin cleared his throat and continued. "Anyway. Knowing my name was enough to stop them from beating me. They whispered to each other briefly, confirming that they hadn't heard my name anywhere, and I interrupted them to ask what they wanted with me.

"They didn't answer my question, but the most disturbing smiles appeared on their faces." Ford shuddered. "Lord, I remember it so well."

He stopped talking then, staring blankly over his brother's shoulder and at nothing. His eyes were far away.

"Sixer?" Stan said softly. An unsettling feeling of worry was growing inside of him. "Sixer, what'd they do?"

The author was incredibly still. His mouth opened and closed noiselessly a few times before he abruptly jerked himself back into reality, looking Stan in the eye. He continued in a nonchalant tone, trying to fool himself into thinking that what he was saying wasn't much to think of. "They wanted my blood, for some sort of perverse ritual."

Stan's throat was dry. "How much?"

"Too much. Enough to render me unconscious before too long."

"Well, was the needle at least-"

"There was no needle," Ford scoffed incredulously. "These men were imbeciles, remember? There was no medical equipment lying around. The ripped off my pants, cut into my femoral artery, and put a bucket under my leg."

Stan cringed.

"They just laughed as they did it." Ford's thigh started twitching uncomfortably as he recalled the harsh sting of hard dust and cold oxygen entering his bloodstream. "One of them tore open my shirt to reveal my scars. They laughed and laughed and drew little designs into my chest with a rusty blade, claiming that they were 'adding to the collection.'"

"Ford..."

"I didn't know what they would do with me after they took my blood. I was already feeling incredibly lightheaded at this point. It was hard to break. My pulse was weak. I was cold... I was so cold, Stanley. I knew that soon I would lose consciousness, and when I did they could do whatever they wanted with my body. And I was frightened." He closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath. "I was so frightened."

A concerned frown drew itself onto Stan's face and he leaned forward. The thought of them doing this to his brother, his little nerd brother who he'd always had to look after, was killing him. Cutting him open to drain his blood, humiliating him and enjoying it. It hurt too much for Stan to dwell on the thought of his twin being so afraid, so helpless, so he decided to prompt him to focus on a different aspect of the story. His voice was soft as he asked, "What did they do with it?"

"I only know what little I was able to pick up from their conversations before I became too dizzy to understand what they were saying. They were planning some sort of… ceremony. To summon someone, or something. They kept saying she was waiting for them, she would be pleased to finally have sacrifices, she would spare them from her tyranny and reward them greatly for their devotion… And then I woke up in the same field that they found me in, a tourniquet under my groin and all of my weapons returned to me. Why they didn't kill me, I'll never know... Perhaps whatever bizarre cult that they were in wouldn't allow murder."

"Moses. Ya ever figure out what the hell they were talkin' about?"

"Once I regained enough strength, I tracked down the location they took me to and investigated. There were cultish things everywhere, sigils and spellbooks and... other people's blood."

"And?"

"None of their customs had any basis. There was writing on the walls everywhere, and the books that I found strewn about the house were all fictional. They were insane; completely and utterly insane."

"Wow." Stan sat back, looking up at the ceiling. "That's messed up."

Ford snorted at his brother's understatement. "I suppose."

"I..." I'm sorry? Stan was going to have to learn how to be sincere with his brother again, and he was going to have to learn fast. "I can't believe I wasn't there to protect ya," he eventually said, surprising himself.

Ford looked surprised, as well. "What do you mean?"

"Well, hell, how many times did I take the bullet for ya when we were kids? I always told myself I'd be around whenever ya were gonna get hurt, so I could protect ya. And there ya were, tied up by a coupla wackos, gettin' carved up like Thanksgiving dinner, and where was I?"

"You couldn't possibly have helped. I was in another dimension, Stanley." Ford was nonplussed.

"Yeah, well, that was my fault, too."

"I built the portal."

"I pushed you in."

The brothers stared at each other down for a long time, significance building in their gaze.

Since Ford was the one to first break eye contact, it was only fair for Stan to be the first to break the silence. "I guess it's my turn now, huh?"

"If you'd like."

"Well, I got nothin' to tell ya. Don't remember anything enough to make a whole story out of it."

Ford nodded in understanding. "That's okay," he said. "We'll wait until you do."