Stan took a long drink of the coffee his brother prepared for him and promptly launched into a fit of coughing.

"Sweet Moses, Ford! When I said 'make it Irish' I didn't mean 'add some coffee to my whiskey.'"

Ford chuckled sheepishly. "Sorry. My, uh, tolerance is pretty high."

He reached to take the coffee from his brother so he could dump it and try again, but Stan held up a hand to stop him and took another drink. "No, this is what I need. Just caught me off guard."

Ford nodded in understanding and sat down. "So... you were dreaming about prison?"

"Yeah."

The author remembered the conversation he and his brother had all those years ago.

'I've been in prison in three different countries...'

"Which one?"

"What do you mean?"

"You told me you had been in prison in three countries. Which one was this?"

The younger twin blinked. He'd forgotten that he told his brother that detail. "Colombia."

Ford's eyes widened. "You've been in a Colombian prison?"

"Well, shit, what three countries did ya think I was talkin' about? US, Canada, and Puerto Rico?"

"Puerto Rico isn't-"

"Whatever." Stan ran his hands down his face, heaving a sigh. "Anyway, yeah. I was in Colombia. With these two goons- Jorge and Rico. Rico was some sort of mastermind, I dunno. But he had a good amount of money and he was friends with everyone. Well, the jail version of friends where he didn't care enough about 'em to try and kill 'em, and they were too scared of him to try and kill him."

"How did you end up his cellmate?"

"Don't remember. Just know I was rentin' the cell. Jail was overpopulated and ya only got a room if ya could afford it. Kids were called 'pirates' when they didn't have a cell to go to, and they kinda just crashed in the hallways I guess, or got locked in the cafeteria. Dunno."

"Were you friends with Rico?"

"I thought so. Hell, we were partners in crime as far as I was concerned. Later I figured out I was shit under his shoes, but I dunno why. We met under good circumstances, even. I moved in with him and Jorge, I gave them my most dazzlin' smile, they beat me until my teeth bled, I fought back a little, not too much. Everything went right."

Ford was gaping at Stan incredulously.

"What?" Stan said defensively. "Ya never been to prison before?"

"I've never been exposed to other inmates."

"What, were ya in solitary or somethin'?"

Ford hummed, nodding. "I was very dangerous."

Stan rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Always gotta one-up me, don'tcha?"

The older twin couldn't help but smile, amused by his brother's tendency to bicker. "You're not going to distract me from the matter at hand, Stanley."

Stan groaned dramatically, slumping back in his chair. "I know."

"So, you thought Rico was your friend," Ford prompted, trying to put the conversation on track.

The conman did his best to relay the events of his dream; he got through the first half pretty easily, but started to falter as he recounted the exact nature of Rico's intentions.

Listen and try not to react was all that Ford could do. He knew that Stan was having trouble, and he didn't want to make it even harder by getting emotional.

But it was hard.

Stan had never been one to beat around the bush, but now he couldn't seem to bring himself to say anything directly. He was dancing around the issue, slowing down to describe the goddamn graffiti on the wall but breezing right past the fact that Rico was holding a knife to his throat.

It killed Ford to see his brother so uncharacteristically nervous, embarrassed, fumbling over his words.

"I told him it would be stupid to kill me, and, uh- y'know, he said that's not what he was gonna do."

"What did he do?"

"I'm gettin' there, Sixer. Hold your horses," Stan snapped, staring down at his hands. "I guess he figured out I was never gonna get enough money to pay him back. So he said he'd... help me out. Get other things from me to lower my debt."

Too vague. Stan was still being too vague. Ford didn't say anything this time, just waited patiently for his brother to find the words (and the courage) to continue.

He could start putting the pieces together, though, and he clenched his fists, praying to whoever might be listening that his assumption was wrong.

"So, he..." Stan really didn't wanna say anything. Eventually, he decided he didn't have to. If Stanford was such a goddamn genius, he could figure it out by himself. "He put the gag back on me, spit in his hand, and... y'know. All night long."

Stan downed the rest of his 'coffee' and stood up to get a refill, avoiding his twin at all costs.

Ford ground his teeth together. What should he say? What could he say? The blind rage he felt for the bastard who would actually do that to another human being was being battled by the profound sadness he felt for how degratedhis brother seemed to feel about it all. Stan couldn't look Ford in the eye the whole time he told the story, and now he seemed distressed to even be in the same room.

He knew that reacting would just make Stan feel worse. But he had to kill the silence, so he asked another question.

"How much did he take off your debt?"

"A thousand pesos."

Ford couldn't do anything to suppress his outrage. "That's equivalent to thirty American cents!" he exclaimed.

Stan was apathetic to Ford's protests. He had long since accepted just how cruel Rico's 'exchange rate' was. "Yeah," he said blandly, shrugging.

Suddenly, a horrid, disgusting, contemptible thought entered Ford's mind. How many times did this happen? How much money did Stan make up? What other methods of alleviating the debt did Rico come up with?

They sat in painful silence for what seemed to be hours, Stan staying at the counter, coffee cup in hand, his back to his twin. Eventually, he got sick of it and turned back around, heaving a sigh. "It's your turn," he said, dropping his mug back onto the table. Some drink sloshed out, and Ford could see that there was no coffee in it at all.

The scientist sighed, trying to think of something that could possibly be appropriate to mention now. Everything coming to his mind was either too light or much, much too heavy.

Perhaps a story with no human contact would suit the situation best.

A/N: I would appreciate reviews and/or pms with anything you might want me to write in as components of either brother's past, or for some brothery bonding moments! It doesn't all have to be as heavy-hitting as what I've written so far.

I'm also ALWAYS up for constructive criticism and critiques!

thank you guys, and have a good day!