According to his watch, Ford had been unconscious for either twenty or forty four hours. Trips into the mindscape always drained him of his strength. His legs buckled under him as he tried to stand. He just sat there, ruminating on the events of the past few days. Bill had another plan. Another way to take control of this dimension. Despite all his efforts, Ford was still losing the battle against the demon.
Yet, there was a glimmer of hope. Maybe if Ford could get Stan's help, together they could stop Bill. Take back their lives and rescue the world from Armageddon. It was a million-to-one plan, but Ford was willing to try nearly anything at this point.
How was he supposed to find Stan? Ford had neither the time nor the resources to drive around the country, knocking on every door.
Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. The post office! It was how he located Stan the last time. He would have to distract the workers and go through their files. After compiling a list, he could find phone numbers and hopefully track down Stan.
He went to the post office and set off a minor explosion outside the door. The staff and other customers having been thoroughly preoccupied, he slipped into the back. He grabbed a key from one of the employee's desks, so he could return after closing.
As night fell, he hesitantly crept in the rear entrance and got to work.
He didn't want another felony on his conscience. Though, to be honest, it was far from the worst thing he had ever done. And it was for a good cause, after all.
The most logical choice was to contact his brother's associates, starting from last month. He figured they would be eager to rat Stan out, especially if there was a promised financial reward.
Hours bled together as he went through dozens of files, none of them leading him anywhere.
Unsurprisingly, most of these "gentlemen" were in prison. Others had no addresses listed. The ones he did call swore colorfully at the mention of Stan's name and threatened Ford with bodily harm.
Neither he nor Stan had made any friends in school, which ruled out that possibility.
The only other feasible option was to reach out to their former teachers.
Most of the teachers had liked Ford, with his thirst for knowledge and great intellect. His twin, on the other hand, had been suspended more times than he could count. Ford sighed irritably. This was just going to be another dead end.
Only one name stuck out to him. Mrs. Levowitz. She had been their English teacher in 10th and 11th grade. She was the one who realized that Stan learned in a different way than most students. It was the only class that Stan had ever looked forward to. She was kind, gentle, patient, and beautiful. Ford blushed deeply as he remembered his crush on her. How did someone so talented and loving end up in Glass Shard, New Jersey?
She had married and moved to northern Utah a few months before graduation. If Stan had gone anywhere for support, it would be there.
He didn't bother to call. It would give Stan the opportunity to disappear without a trace.
It was a six hour drive to Logan, Utah, but the stillness and solitude of the open road caused time to move slowly. Ford worried that he would never find his brother. Stan could've gone anywhere in the world. He could be living off the grid, for all he knew. But he also knew that there was too much at stake for him to quit trying.
As the sun was setting, he found himself in front of the Levowitzs' house. It was small, but looked warm and cozy.
He reached out his fist to knock, but stopped a few inches from the door. Maybe it would be best if he just left. Stan obviously didn't want anything to do with him.
Ford steeled himself and knocked. What was the worst that could happen?
A tall, broad-shouldered, but benign looking man of about forty opened the door.
"Does Mrs. Levowitz live here?" Ford asked politely.
"She does. I'm her husband. Something I can help you with?"
"My brother, Stan, and I used to be her students. I lost touch with him and believe he might have come here."
Mr. Levowitz pondered for a moment. "Well. There was a man who showed up last night. Looked a lot like you. Said he needed a place to stay until he could put his life back together. I was hesitant because the last drifter who stayed here stole some money from our safe. But I let him in. This morning, there was no sign he had ever been here. I don't know where he was heading."
The news felt like a slap to the face.
"Thank you for your help."
The older man shot him a look of sympathy and closed the door.
Dejectedly, Ford drove back towards the interstate. What was he supposed to do now?
The trip must have taken a lot out of him. He thought he saw Stan's car parked along the street.
Passing by it again, the resemblance became uncanny. The color, make, and model of the car were identical. It had the same scratches and dents. Even the most of the stains on the dashboard seemed familiar.
It was a clever plan, but Stan forgot one thing. His brother didn't take 'no' for an answer.
After several hours of waiting in an abandoned parking lot, Ford was ready.
He snuck back to the Levowitzs' residence, careful not to alert the neighborhood dogs to his presence.
It was time to finally have a face-to-face talk with his brother.
Someone was tapping, rather obnoxiously, on the bedroom window. Stan rolled over in bed and tried to ignore the sound. Couldn't this wait until tomorrow?
No dice. The tapping became full-on pounding at the glass.
He hauled himself out of the warm blankets and trudged over to the window.
He had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn't just seeing his own reflection.
Nope. His jerk of a brother was standing there, shivering and whacking the window with his abnormally large hands.
"Stan!"
"Go away." Out of all the times Ford could've shown up, why did he have to choose now?
"Let me in!" Ford stopped pounding and nodded towards the lock on the inside of the window.
"I said 'Go away!"
"Why should I?"
"Well, for one thing, I'm about five seconds away from slugging you."
Stan rolled up his sleeves to show that he meant business. Obviously, Ford didn't believe him, because he just kept staring eagerly at the window latch.
"I need to talk you."
"I don't care."
"Please? It's freezing out here. Just let me in for a few minutes."
Stan huffed, but opened the window.
His brother climbed through and sat on Stan's bed.
They stared irritably at each other. Stan had to turn away. His brother looked more dead than alive. There was such a mixture of pain, anger, and hope in Ford's dim eyes. His face was haggard and covered in bruises.
"It's four in the freaking morning. Why are you here?" Stan wasn't angry, just exhausted and annoyed.
"You refused to come to me. What else should I have done?" He rolled his eyes at Stan. Who was this man and what had he done with Ford?
"That doesn't cut it. If you're going to stay, I need a good reason to talk to you."
Ford took several deep breaths and recounted his story. "For the past seven years, I have been studying anomalies in a small Oregon town. I was attempting to find a reason why Gravity Falls had a high concentration of oddities. About a year ago, I hit a roadblock. My grant money had almost run out and I was no closer to reaching my goal. That's when I met Bill. He was a powerful dream demon who claimed he could help. He gave me directions on how to build a portal into another dimension. I later discovered that he wanted to use it to start an apocalypse…"
Stan couldn't believe it. His brother told more outlandish lies than he did. Doubt must have been painted all over his face, because Ford was glaring at him.
"What? What did I do this time?"
"You obviously don't believe a single word I've said."
Stan snorted. "I'm supposed to believe a dream demon gave you directions to a portal that would end the world? Ya can't out-con a conman. Thought you'd know better than that by now."
"Stan. I know that it sounds insane. Heaven knows there were times when I thought I had lost my mind. But you need to trust me. Bill knows where you are. I had to promise not to fight against him so he wouldn't possess, then dispose of you."
"You still haven't told me diddly-squat about why you're here."
Ford pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "I was about to explain, when you so rudely interrupted."
A million smart-alec responses came to mind, but Stan kept his mouth shut.
"We need to go back to Gravity Falls and follow Bill's instructions perfectly. Take some time to earn his trust. Meanwhile, we'll plan how to destroy, or at least incapacitate him."
Stan raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were Mr. Goody Two-Shoes. What happened to following the rules and sticking to your word?"
"Stan! The fate of humanity rests on our shoulders. Now is not the time to be making ridiculous jokes."
"Admit it. You missed me doing that."
Ford coughed something that sounded like "So what?" and resumed.
"So what do you say? Will you help me save the world?"
They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity.
On the one hand, Stan had finally found somewhere he could be happy and maybe make a new life for himself. Ford was selfish for wanting to take that away from him, among other reasons. On the other,
Ford did look like he'd been through one heck of a year. He might be telling the truth. Maybe saving the world would heal their relationship. And if they died, it would be in one last blaze of glory.
Stan should've known that his life would always be one of misadventures and life or death situations.
"Fine. On one condition."
"What's that?"
"Let me sleep for the next couple hours."
"Sounds good to me. I don't think we're going to get much shuteye for a while." As if to prove his point, Ford yawned several times.
Stan flopped gratefully onto the bed and snuggled into his pillow. Ford stood up and unlatched the window.
"Where do you think you're going?" Stan demanded, propping himself up on his elbows.
"I was going to sleep in my car. I promised to leave, didn't I? Anyway, I don't want to risk having to explain to the Levowitzs what I'm doing in their house."
Yeesh. Ford sure could be an idiot sometimes, for all his supposed smarts.
"Come here." Stan motioned to the other side of the bed. He wasn't going to let his brother sleep outside in the cold.
Ford looked surprised, but said nothing. He pulled off most of his clothes, and huddled in the blankets.
He instinctively squished most of his weight against his younger brother. Stan wanted to object, but Ford was already out like a light.
It was like they were kids again. Whenever Ford had had a nightmare, or failed a test, he always ended up in Stan's bed. He would curl up against Stan, and Stan would pet his hair and tell him a story. They would fall asleep, embracing each other. No matter what happened, they could always rely on each other.
It took all of Stan's willpower not to smile. He had to face facts. Things weren't the same. They were now two very broken men. Life had chewed them up and spit them out. He didn't know if things would ever be the same between them.
Ford began whimpering in his sleep. He looked so small and vulnerable. Stan took inventory of the scars and burn marks that covered nearly every inch of his brother's skin. Bones had broken and been set incorrectly. His breathing was harsh and irregular.
Stan whispered soothingly, as their mother had done so long ago. After a minute, the whimpering hushed to gentle snoring.
Stan rested his head on the pillow, and watched Ford struggle to get comfortable. Pity filled his chest.
"Oh, Sixer. What did that piece of crap demon do to you?"
