No.
No, this was- this was bad . This was- shit.
Ford squeezed his hands around the journal, uncaring of the crumpling paper that he let fall out from around the book. Why had he even bothered to grab it- to hide the journal? To- no, no, that didn't matter right now. He had to spend his mental resources wisely. What was he suppose to do now? What the HELL was he suppose to do now? Ford started pacing back and forth across the room.
He barely even had a grip on reality at the moment. With all his thoughts flying around right now he was surrounded by a miasma of colors and lines trying to creep through his skin and eyes. He had to struggle for even common concepts to make sense right now.
Simple, think through the situation and lay everything out, organize his thoughts. But wouldn't that just make it oh so easy for Him to- He quickly squashed the seize of panic. Right now, he needed to- he just had to figure out what to do.
He had… his brother. Alright, yes, good, Stanley was here. Stanley had actually willingly come along, and at the very least was not immediately possessed. Positive.
Stanley, as it turned out, was in a town with eccentric criminals. Negative.
The journal definitively needed to stay away from any eccentric people, criminals, especially. Thus, Stanley couldn't simply take his journal back with him like Ford had originally thought and planned on.
… Not much to lay out. Alright, what did that leave him.
A journal he needed to hide. A brother in his living room. A city that Stanley couldn't take the journal back to... Bill, of course. Then himself, with only a little time that was already thinly stretched as it was.
He could tell how he was fraying away under the stress and distinct lack of sleep. He should have come up with a back up plan. Well, he had tried. The past weeks had been spent thinking, and coming up with very few options. Each infinitely more risky than calling for Stanley, which considering his extreme lack of knowledge about Stan's situation meant a lot. He had assumed Stanley wouldn't come because honestly why would he (why did he?)
...He had though. Stanley had. He had actually come to the house. A good sign…
Maybe Stanley would still take the journal and hide it…? It'd be risky, but better than hiding it himself. He had needed someone separate from Gravity Falls to hide the last journal. While he could do it himself he knew his own actions weren't as secretive as he wished them to be.
Hiding it himself had been his 'best' back up plan. He was fairly certain that his travelling across several states would definitely not go unnoticed. Next along was something frankly dangerous, and he found himself just slightly worried the thought alone might not have come from himself. What better way to separate the journals than to put one in a wholly different dimension. Finally, there was taking the journals and- it- no, no, that was on the bottom rung of options, and not worth even considering right now. It was unnecessary, he could figure out something else. Besides, two were already hidden. He wasn't going to unearth those now. Getting Stanley to take the journal even now was still the best option, but… but if some criminal got their hands on the material they could follow it back here and trouble would ensue. No… no, he'd just ask Stanley to take the journal and hide it on his way back, make a stop somewhere. Go off some lazy road in the middle of nowhere in a place nobody would even think to look.
A murky whisper made him jolt up slightly, going on edge. He swept a quick glance over the room. Nothing, of course. He always knew it was nothing he could see, but it still helped. Checking was the only thing that would throw off the feeling that something was with him, for the most part.
Alright, he decided to himself, he'd just tell Stanley to hide the journal along his way back. Just… give him the journal. Ford's fingers flexed around the book instinctively. It'd be hidden; it'd be alright.
It'd be safe.
Give Stanley the journal and then he could sl-no.No, no, wrong, no, he still had more to do. He wouldn't be able to rest yet, but soon, he just needed to hold off for a bit longer. You could take a nap, just five minutes would do wondersfor your -" No." He hissed aloud sharply, chastising himself. He physically shook his head, bringing the room back into focus, clutched with the journal at his chest, taking in a shaky breath.
No, he hadn't come all this way to just let himself fall back down like that without any safety precautions. He had a proper plan of action now, granted it fell off into vague obscurity after the point where Stan would leave, but he had something to do. Ford walked back to Stan, determined. He could hear footsteps, back and forth, and some quiet muttering. Whatever it was, both noises stopped before he could get close enough. When he came back to the room, Stan had his arms crossed over chest, leaning against the wall, and looked over to him.
"Stanley," he started, taking a couple steps towards him, still maintaining several feet between them, "There's something I have to ask you to do."
If Ford hadn't been certain his senses were failing he'd say that Stanley had perked up, but why would he? There'd be no point, and his voice remained uncaring. "What's that?"
He continued his approach, stepping forward carefully, and holding out his journal to Stan, just within his reach.
Stan pushed off from the wall and grabbed the journal, looking down at it for a moment.
For a moment, just a moment, Ford thought about back then. He mentally swept it back under the rug with a frown before it could fully surface though. "This journal has information that could lead to disaster. Take it with you." He stepped back out of Stan's range. "Hide it somewhere on your way back, somewhere safe. Bury it where no one will ever find it!"
On your way back, he said.
On your way back, like it was no big deal. As if Stan hadn't just driven hours and hours to get here just because he thought he was in serious trouble. As if, he was telling him to drop something off at a grocery store on his way home.
As if he wasn't telling Stan to leave.
"That's it?" Stan asked him, gripping onto the book.
Ford gave him a look, confused. "Stanley, that journal has to be hidden out of- out of Gravity Falls, far away!"
Stan scoffed. Of course, it did, didn't it? Of course, it had to be far away from him, right? "You know, believe it or not, I actually came here to help you out of whatever mess you got tangled up in."
"This is what I called you here to help with." He replied pointing back to the book in his hands, getting upset. "You're the only one that can take it, Stanley!"
"Fine! You want me to take it back when I go, right?" Stan waved the book in the air.
His brother scanned him over almost suspiciously at the question. "I want you to hide it in an obscure place on your way back to New Jersey, yes."
"Then I will," he said, crossing his arms, "after I make sure you're not going to get killed or something once I skip town."
Ford bristled at that, snapping. "Stanley! I need you to HIDE my journal. I don't have a lot of options left!"
"Well, something tells me that your problems aren't gonna end once I just shove this journal away somewhere, are they?"
"I'll be able to handle them once I know that journal is somewhere hidden!"
"Then I'll just make sure nobody gets to it while I'm here." Stan said plainly. "Now, come on, tell me what's going on here, Ford."
"What's going ON is that I'm running out of time and your attempt to 'help' is doing anything but that!" He yelled at him wildly, pacing back off. "You don't understand what I'm up against!"
Stan followed after him. "Then just TELL ME! You said you would explain once I got here, and guess what, I'm here!"
Ford half turned to look over his shoulder at Stan when he moved after him, equal parts irritated and on edge. "I didn't say that!" However, even as he objected he looked uncertain, putting a hand to his head and thinking back. "No, I-I don't remember that." He shook his head. "I wouldn't have promised that."
"Ford," he almost pleaded this time, "that wasn't even a week ago. You weren't-" he gestured at him, "you weren't thisbad on the phone. What happened?"
"Nothing happened," he said, locking eyes with Stan.
Stan maintained the eye contact, and the two stared back at one another for a long moment. He let out a steady sigh through his nostrils. Ford simply looked back at him, clearly irritated. Even still though, he kept occasionally looking around the room, scanning it for some danger. What was he looking for?!
"Alright, listen," Stan started calmly, "you know you look awful, right? Like... yeesh, I've had my fair share of seeing people in some bad spots. I'm talking rock bottom, and you still look terrible. I don't get what's going on."
"What is there to 'get,' Stanley?" Ford asked coldly.
"Uh, why you look like a panicked animal that's ready to sprint." Stan pointed out blatantly.
Ford didn't answer.
Stan sighed. "Okay, fine, don't tell me, but I know it's gotta be something around here." He gave Ford another chance to speak up, but he didn't so Stan continued. "So, I'm not just leaving you here to deal with the blackmail or whatever it is that's got you so paranoid." He took a breath, covertly gathering up courage to finish. "I'm getting out of this town and you're coming with me."
"No, I'm not." Ford refuted, taken aback.
"YEAH, you are. That or you're going to at least tell me what's going on so I can help."
"You can help by taking my journal and-"
"-And burying it in some hole or whatever, yeah, yeah. That seems really helpful, Ford."
He scowled. "It is. You don't understand, Stanley!"
"You're right, I don't! Because YOU won't explain anything! You were going to tell me something before you knew there were weirdos in the city I came from. It's not like I go around talking to them or something!"
"Stanley! It doesn't matter if you associate with them or not, it's the environment! If someone finds this journal they could use it for terrible things, it needs to be hidden away from here. Somewhere where it won't be around dangerous people. Dangerous people that, mind you, may very well jump after anything that could help their ambitious crimes."
"If it's so dangerous then why don't you just burn them?"
He faltered. "I'm not burning it!"
"Well then it can't be that dangerous!" Stan fired back, crossing his arms.
"Obviously, it IS!"
"Not if your dumb mysteries are more important to you."
"It's a safety precaution. If I just HIDE the journals then it will be fine!"
"Fine! I'll hide your stupid journal then. We're still getting you out of here until whatever trouble you got yourself into settles down."
"I'm not done in Gravity Falls! I have to-!" Ford stopped himself suddenly, biting down on his tongue, and pensively keeping silent.
Stan briefly waited for him to continue, patience wearing thin. He had thought he'd actually understand what was going on when he arrived, but honestly? Before he had had some ideas the kind of trouble Ford had gotten into and now he couldn't even narrow down the options.
"... What? Okay, what could be so important that you'd want to stick around when you're like this?!"
"You don't understand, Stan-"
"BECAUSE YOU WON'T TELL ME ANYTHING!" Stan shouted, frustrated. "How am I supposed to get whatever crazy mess you ended up in when all I know is that you want to hide your research which is SOMEHOW dangerous?!"
Ford took a calming breath. "Fine. Fine, you're right. I'm not giving you enough information for you to even begin to understand the situation."
"Thank you." Stan expectantly waited for an explanation, but Ford remained thin lipped. The two looked back at one another for a long moment. Stan frowned finally, expression darkening. "... You're seriously not going to tell me."
"No, it's risky information."
"Oh, right, okay. What am I going to do with it, Ford? Let's go with even a really bad case. Someone's interrogating me and they want information. They're not going to even know about you, much less whatever this all is. So, they're not gonna ask about you or even care about what's going on over here. It's the other side of the country."
Ford went quiet again, but this time he was in deep thought, very evidently internally debating something now. Stan waited, determined to not be the one to break the silence this time. Eventually, Ford started to talk, albeit a bit slowly, carefully picking his words. "I built an interdimensional portal, and it's too dangerous now. Someone with my research could activate it again and it could create a tear in reality that would lead to global disaster." He looked at a wall, swallowing.
"Alright," Stan started, calmed down significantly. Not a lot of information, but enough for him to at least partially understand the sort of danger Ford was going on about. "Why can't we just take down the portal and destroy whatever bits from this journal ya'd need for it."
Ford shook his head slowly, not looking at him. "I can't do that."
"Well, why not?" He genuinely questioned, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Seems easy enough to me."
"It's essential the research is taken care of first."
It wasn't that Ford couldn't destroy it, he just didn't want to. Stan breathed in deeply, feeling the irritation creep back in again. "You said end of the world, right?"
Ford nodded.
"End of the world ."
"Yes."
Stan looked at him for a long moment and Ford finally met his gaze. "You could have already taken care of this whole thing if you'd just burned your research instead of hiding it. End of the world and you won't just burn up a couple of papers."
"If I just hide it then it won't be necessary to!" Ford defended himself.
"What's it matter if it's hidden where nobody will find it or burnt. It's gone either way, Sixer."
"It matters to ME!" Ford snapped at him, then took a breath and looked aside. "I don't expect you to understand it." He said cooly.
Stan ran his hands over his face. "No, I get it." He said, a bit exasperated. "I get it perfectly fine, I just think it's a little selfish that you think your research and nerd stuff is more important than literally the entire world."
Ford shot him a look. "I would destroy it if it was necessary." He insisted.
"Okay, okay, whatever, right?" He waved his hands placatingly. "We'll hide your stupid research then. I don't know why you called me when you could have just used your fancy college money to go hide it yourself, but we'll bury it somewhere far off."
"I can't leave, not yet." Ford said simply.
Stan groaned. None of this was going to be straightforward was it. "Why can't you leave?"
Again, Ford clammed up, but this time there was a distinct sliver of icy fear in the way he looked away.
Stan eyed the other up, taking note of that look in his eyes yet again. He sighed. "Seriously, what's going on? You just told me you made a doomsday machine, what's got you this bad?" His brother winced guiltily at the word use, but didn't comment on it. "Who's got you so paranoid, Sixer?"
At that Ford, snapped his head over to look at him with a panicked look and froze.
Stan slowly put his hands up slightly, not sure what it was he had said... Never could just say the right thing, could he?
"How did you know that?" Ford asked stiffly.
"Know what?"
"'Who.' " Ford said, leaning forward slightly, an accusing edge to his tone. He warily looked over Stan. "You asked who, I never mentioned anyone."
Stan eased his hands down again. "Relax, okay. I can just tell. Nobody gets five locks on their door for bears, alright?" He gestured back towards the front door casually.
Ford glanced towards the doorway, and the tension in his stance went back out again as well as the manic glint in his eyes. "Oh…" He responded tiredly. It was... It was a sad moment. Not that Ford sounded sad. No, drained, sure, but definitely not sad.
The moment itself just struck him as sad, and maybe... a bit familiar. He slowly approached him to put a hand on his shoulder, watching Ford for anything, but he didn't seem to even notice the contact. The other still looked towards the front door barely in view. He pushed his fingers underneath his glasses to rub at his eyes.
"Look," Stan started in a gentle voice, "I get it." He put his free hand up to his own chest earnestly, before gesturing back to Ford. "You're tired. You're thinking the moment you let your guard down something is going to happen, but you've got to get some sleep, Ford."
Ford shook his head. "No, Stanley, you really don't get it. I have to stay awake." Not even stubborn or upset, just like it was a matter of fact.
"Stanford, you can't keep yourself awake forever. At least take a nap."
Ford put a hand up to his head, pushing the heel up against the hair. It took him a moment to respond. "I know. I know, but I'm not trying for forever. I just… Once I figure something out I'll be able to sleep, but I can't let myself fall asleep right now."
"What about this?" Stan suggested. "You go to sleep, and I'll stick by and keep watch. If I hear anything, I'll wake you right up. Or you can lock yourself into a room and I'll just make sure nobody breaks in."
He shook his head. "If I was just worried about a simple break in I would have figured out a system to take naps."
How long had he been awake...? Stan let out a breath, furrowing his eyebrows. "That's not why you're keeping awake."
"No."
"Then what is?"
Ford stayed silent, glancing around, as if for a plausible answer.
"Nightmares? Even if they're bad, you gotta sleep."
He swallowed around a lump in his throat. "That's not it." He mumbled.
"... Are you going to tell me?"
Ford stayed still and silent, not giving an indication either way for a long stretch before finally looking to him. "I don't know."
Stan sighed, taking his hand off of Ford's shoulder. Ford was going to drive himself right into the ground before Stan could even see what it was Ford was hiding from, much less actually help.
"I need to sleep," Ford admitted slowly, not looking to Stan. He messed with the collared sleeve of his coat. "I just… I may…" His face scrunched up a bit, "sleepwalk." It sounded like a very bad lie, and Ford himself obviously realized that even as he was saying it. He went on before Stan could say anything. "If you just kept watch to make sure I didn't go downstairs, then I could at least try to sleep."
"You want me to keep you from going downstairs?" Stan asked slowly.
He nodded, "Or anywhere else." He lead Stan back just enough to show him the door. Some big metallic door with enough doohickeys and continuously blinking lights that Stan really didn't think it should just be called a door anymore.
"This is the only entrance to downstairs." Ford told him, nodded his head towards it.
"Because you don't want to 'sleepwalk.'" Stan said dubiously, crossing his arms. He just wanted another answer, something, he wanted something.
Ford let out a breath, letting the air deflate out of him and avoiding eye contact. "I- I know, just- It might be safe enough for me to sleep if you do this." He looked back at Stan again, keeping solid eye contact as he made his request, even pointing a finger out from his chest to him. "Don't let me downstairs or out of this house until you are absolutely certain I'm in my right mind."
Stan started off with a bit of suspicion seasoned with understandable concern, but was quickly interrupted. "Why do-"
"And please don't ask me why or anything about this right now." Ford's voice cracked, as he squeezed his eyes shut. His hands gripped tightly onto the front of the coat keeping it closed. "I know it's weird, Stanley. I realize what this probably looks like. If you'd just do this for me though then maybe I'll be rested enough that I won't have to worry about falling asleep while I figure something out."
And... Stan could see the underlying desperation in the request. He didn't really know what this was suppose to look like. Weird, sure, but he couldn't understand what it was. Maybe he was suppose to see the whole thing as mentally unstable, but he had already been thinking that since he had come face to point with a crossbow. If anything the request was one of the few moments where Ford actually seemed most stable, vulnerable and maybe desperate, but close to what he'd been like on the phone. Which was a lot better than the shakily wound together bundle of paranoia and fear that was just a quick second from swinging a wooden bat into his face.
Stan put a hand on Ford's arm, causing the other to jump slightly and open his eyes open up again. "Okay. I'll do it. No questions asked. 'Sides, you aren't really gonna give me the best answers like this anyways." Ford slumped a bit, looking relieved. "Come on," Stan said, patting Ford's arm, "let's go to your bedroom."
His brother nodded his head and started to lead the way.
AUTHOR NOTES:
I'm going to start having this as a little note section or on some I might not! Who knows.
Anyways, first off, Rain, thank you so much for the review! I'm really glad you're digging it like oh man it gets me so excited for this fic. Because if you like that stuff, then I KNOW there's gonna be stuff coming up that you're really gonna like!
For those really wanting the Batman bits, don't worry it won't take half the fic for them to get to Gotham. This is more about the Stan twins getting involved in Gotham and then well The Big Plot™. Which, please keep in mind I know a lot more about the GF timeline than I do the B:TAS timeline. If something is wrong with batman stuff that's one me, it's not a plausible secrete - I just thought it was canon.
Next chapter will come up in 3 or 5 days, hope nobody gets too Bord in it!
Edit: I fixed the repeating line - also fixed up errors. (And have retyped this author's note for the 3rd time since fanfic won't let mE JUST COPY AND PASTE ON HERE)