(Side note: Hey, sorry that I didn't post yesterday; something was up with FF . Net. I wasn't able to access my account, which was a problem. It's fine now, so now I can post. I'll post the next chapter later today. :-) Now onto the Author Note I wrote yesterday...)

New chapter up. ^-^

So, this chapter is the climax. This chapter, and the remaining two, are completely non-canon. This is my way of resolving things between the brothers.

Just remember: Things must get worse, before they can get better.

Also, the lyrics no longer match up with my content... Adding the Stanchurian Candidate messed things up. Sorry.

Oh! I have a question for all of you, and I'd really appreciate it if you would answer it. So, today I had the idea of writing a companion piece to this story, told completely in Ford's perspective. I'd be going over the same things I did in this story (ages 12, 15, 18, 22, etc.) just a couple different scenes and told in Ford's view and thoughts. Most likely, it would be a lot shorter than this story, but I think it would be a neat idea. I'd also be going over what I think Ford went through, when he was in the portal. If you think this sounds interesting and you'd like to read it, please let me know. (It also won't be quite as angsty, I don't think... Ford strikes me as less depressed than Stan, so I don't think I'd write him as doom and gloom as I did Stan.)

Anyway, please enjoy this chapter. And remember to review/comment! :-)

~~~And please believe them when they say~~~
~~~That it's left for yesterday~~~

Things had been going so well, Stanley thought grimly as he stared at his brother, who was gripping the dining room table tightly, his back taut with tension.

Sixty years old and tired, Stanley tried to say something that would rectify this, yet nothing would come to mind.

The past few days had been good for him. Following his failed mayor candidacy, the kids had been warmer towards him, hugging him and including him in their little games (even if he was a bit too old to be playing, it was nice to be included). For once he had felt really appreciated. While he had always known in his heart that the kids loved him, he did question it at times and this helped confirm it in his mind. It had been a while since someone had loved him, so it had felt so good to feel safe in the knowledge.

He had also had more people come to the shack, still impressed by his bravery (though some were a bit wary about his long list of crimes. So what he had a record; it wasn't his fault the government made everything he needed to do to make money illegal.) The publicity had boosted merch sales by forty percent, which had made him elated.

The only problem was that things with his brother were still strained. Stanford spent most of his days down in the basement, coming up only to get food or to use the bathroom, so Stanley rarely saw his twin. But when he did, things were awkward and cold. It seemed Stanford was getting more and more agitated as the days passed and Stanley had no clue how to fix it.

It was when his brother had an accident in the lab right as he had finished taking a group around the shack that tensions had reached their peak. The miniature explosion that sounded from below had caused black plumes of smoke to rise through the floorboards, causing panic amongst the costumers. In their panic, they had destroyed several of his exhibits and his products, leaving before he could charge any of them for the damage.

He had felt anger flood through him as he had looked around his- once again destroyed- shack and had rounded on his brother, who had come out of the secret entrance coughing and blackened from smoke.

Now, he hadn't meant to antagonize his brother. He really hadn't. He had just been exasperated and kind of pissed. He hadn't meant to start a fight, and yet there they were, Stanford with his back to him, tense with concealed fury. Could he ever catch a break?

"It is not my fault that my experiment did not work. I was trying to fix the mess that you made. Perhaps if you don't want my work to interrupt yours, you shouldn't have it in my house." The man bit out, his voice taut and low.

Stanley inwardly sighed as he put his hands up in a placating manner. Great. His brother was starting in on the 'you stole my house, my name, my life, blah blah blah' thing. Yes, it was bad. Couldn't he just move on already?

"Look, whatever, okay? Just don't do it again. I still have to pay for this house, so try not to ruin my work, alright? We're runnin' out of money, what with all the repairs, and we can't afford to lose anymore." He said offhandedly, trying to calm his brother. Stanford, however, tensed up even more. Definitely not the right thing to say…

"Well, perhaps if you hadn't taken over my name, I could find a way to get us money without scamming people." Stanford shot back at him, removing his hands from the table but still tense.

Well, it was clear that Stanford was in fighting mood today, he thought as a small scowl found its way onto his face. He had noticed the suppressed anger in his twin over the past few days. He supposed that today it was finally bubbling over. He didn't want to fight, but he wasn't going to bow down. He never pretended to be the 'bigger person' after all.

"Well, sorry. I had been trying to bring you back from wherever the hell you were, I wasn't quite worried about the consequences using your name would cause. We already agreed that once the summer was over, you get your name back, so no harm no foul, alright?"

"No. Not 'no harm no foul.' You stole my name- my life- with little to no thought. But, then again, you never do think about consequences, do you Stanley? For anything. If you did, you never would have opened that Portal again, even after I had written that it would cause problems, instead leaving me to clean up after you, like always."

Yep. The name thing. And the portal. Again. His scowl deepened as he crossed his arms. Why couldn't his brother just be grateful? And why couldn't he just let it go? Oh, he almost forgot; this was Stanford he was talking about. The man never let anything go.

"Excuse me? I would think you should be just a bit more grateful, Poindexter, seeing as how I opened that portal to save you, if you would care to recall. Ya know, ya wouldn't even be back here if it wasn't for me." He said, annoyance bubbling under his skin. He still really didn't want to get into a fight with his brother, not after what had happened the last time, but he wasn't about to listen as the man told him, once again, that he should never have opened that portal. Stanford had been back for over a week now and he had yet to hear even a simple 'thanks'. It was starting to get on his nerves.

Stanford's face contorted, a scowl marring his features as he finally turned to face him, standing straight as he stared down at Stanley. His 'I'm superior to you, you're just a bug on my windshield' look. Stanley hated that look.

"Why on earth would I be grateful? You shouldn't have opened the portal. I put, specifically, that it would only bring about trouble, yet you ignored me, like you always do! You want to know why I'm not grateful? Because you did nothing that I should be grateful for! You're the reason I was in that other dimension in the first place, and you're the one who has potentially destroyed the universe!"

That struck a nerve. He could feel his anger mounting against his will as he scowled. Okay. Now he was getting pissed. Did his brother really just ignore the fact he had spent thirty fricken years of his life trying to rescue him?

"Nothing you should be grateful for?!" Stanley exclaimed incredulously. "I spent thirty years trying to fix that portal to bring you back, you jerk! I spent night after night in that dingy lab, doing everything I could to bring you home! I didn't care if it would bring the end of the world, just as long as you were back!"

The tension in the room mounted as Stanford threw his arms up into the air, beginning to pace back and forth as he ranted.

"And that is exactly the problem, Stanley! You only ever care about yourself, you never think of the consequences. You always were like that. You never cared if your actions hurt someone else, just as long as you got what you wanted. You never cared for anyone, anyone but yourself! It's why you took my name; took my life!"

Stanley growled as he clenched his fists, his heart beating rapidly due to adrenaline. He couldn't believe this. How dare his brother say that to him? Everything he'd done over the past thirty years was for that ungrateful jerk! How could he say that he didn't care about others, when the proof to the contrary was right in front of him?! He took a step closer to his brother, who had stopped pacing and was currently standing next to the doorway, glare in place.

"You have a lotta nerve, sayin' that ta me. I never cared about anyone but myself? What about that time we were ten and I gave up going to that sleep-away camp I had really wanted to go to for years, since you were sick with the mumps? And how I stayed beside you every second, catching the disease myself, trying to keep you company? Or how about all the times I listened ta ya prattle on about some stupid, smarty-pants inventor, even though I had no idea what you were talkin' about half the time? Or when I gave up thirty years of my life, trying to bring you home?! Don't ya dare say I never cared about anyone but myself." He growled, anger and hurt building up inside of him. Stanford just scoffed and stalked closer to him. They were almost nose to nose at this point.

"That wasn't for me; that was for you! You only brought me back to satisfy your guilt. And while you may have done a few things for me over the years, ultimately it has all been about you! It was your dream to travel the world in a sailboat, Stanley, not mine! And, if you had truly cared about me, you never would have sabotaged my chance of getting into West Coast Tech! You would have been happy for me, instead of feeling pity for yourself!" Stanford shouted, poking Stanley in the chest for emphasis.

"That, again?! It was a mistake! I was a kid! You were going to leave and I was angry! I never meant to mess up your stupid project! But honestly?! I'm glad I did! I'm glad I ruined your life, like you ruined mine!" He shouted back, his teeth barred as he shoved his brother away. Stanford stumbled and caught himself on the edge of the table, seething as he glared at his twin.

"You ruined your own life, Stanley. You were so hung up over your own needs and woes, you never noticed that you were the one to cause most of them. You sabotaged your life, not me."

Stanley let out an incredulous laugh as he clenched his fists, feeling his anger and hurt peak. He felt the words he had kept inside for decades spill out, wanting- no, needing- his brother to feel his hurt. To understand just how badly things had been for him during those days. He hadn't wanted this when he woke up this morning, but part of him had to admit it felt good, finally getting to scream at his brother after all these years.

"You abandoned me, Stanford! You turned your back on me and left me behind! I make one mistake and a lifetime of friendship gets erased?! Do you even care how difficult it was for me, after dad threw me out? I lived in my car more often than not! I was constantly on the brink of starvation! All the while, you were at college, getting awards and grants and other various things. You never bothered to look for me, you never bothered to find out if I was okay. So what you didn't go to your fancy college? At least you didn't have to spend several months in a cramped Mexican jailhouse! You forgot about me, so how can you say that I sabotaged my own life?! How can you say that I only ever cared about myself, when you were the one to leave me behind over a stupid mistake?!"

Stanley was panting as he finished his speech, his hands shaking from the fury and hurt. He scowled at his twin as he tried to calm himself down.

Stanford, however, just continued to glower at him. He had shifted though, his blind anger transforming into cold fury. His gaze turned steely and his tense shoulders eased somewhat as he lifted his chin in challenge. He was the perfect picture of icy anger. "You pushed me into that portal. Because of you I spent thirty years lost between dimensions, wandering and encountering horrors you couldn't even imagine. You want to insist that I ruined your life? Well you ruined mine. Twice." He hissed, words like ice, sharp and piercing.

Stanley could feel his heart stop as his brother brought that up, the anger inside of him freezing. Of course he would bring it up, his worst mistake. He had been wondering when his brother would. He could still feel his anger, but it was now numb, tempered by shame. He could feel all the fight run out of him, causing him to deflate as he hunched his shoulders and looked down, a half grimace, half scowl on his face. He suddenly wanted to be anywhere else, to nurse his hurt. But he refused to let his brother have the last word.

"Yeah. But I did my best to get you back. You want to know why I refused to give up fixin' that machine, even though I knew it would bring about 'disaster'? That's why. Because you were lost, and I couldn't stand the idea of you lost and in pain. You're my brother. And no matter how much you may hate me, I always loved you. So if you want to blame me for all the things you're blamin' me for, then I can't stop you. But don't you dare think, even for a second, that I only ever cared for myself. Because I didn't."

With those words, he gave his brother one last glance, before marching out of the room. He didn't want to hear his brother's response. He just wanted to go lie down and forget this had ever happened. As he turned the corner to leave, though, he ran into Dipper and Mabel, who had been standing right outside the door to the room. They looked at him with wide eyes, like deer in the headlights, but he honestly didn't care. So what if they had heard the whole fight. He stepped around them and headed up to his room, where he sat on his bed and put his head in his hand.

He supposed that this had been inevitable. He had noticed his brother's anger ever since that first day, when the man had punched him. Stanford had kept it under wraps, focussing his energy on his projects like he always had. But nothing could just make that much anger and hurt disappear. And eventually, it just overflowed and couldn't be stopped. Not to mention the fact that they had never had the chance to finish their last fight, Stanford getting pulled into the portal mid-fight. They had never gotten to resolve their problems, causing them to just keep building. Today had been the result of forty years of repressed feelings, bursting out over something minor. And he knew that. Yet it still made him feel like shit.

And, no matter how much he knew it to be true, it still hurt to get further confirmation that his brother truly hated him. That they were broken. That there was little to no hope of fixing things between them.

He felt like screaming at the unfairness of it all, to let out all the pent up rage inside of him, but instead just went over to his trunk, opening it up and unlocking a hidden compartment that was concealed at the bottom. He took out the book that was hidden there and ran his fingers over the title. During those years when he had been fixing the portal, when everything had just been too much to handle and he couldn't even remember why he was doing it, he would look at this book. It had always helped him calm down. Maybe it would work now.

"Stanley and Stanford's journal of cool stuff!" He muttered, a small smile finding its way on his face as he flipped through the old thing. Inside there were pictures and text, words that would describe the weird and unusual things they would find on the beach. The writing was childish and clumsy, his writing nearly illegible while his brother's was only a bit more readable. His favorite pages, though, were the ones with the pictures of them together, smiling and happy as they documented their progress on their boat. Those pictures had always been taken by Shermy, who they would ask to take pictures for them occasionally. While their shared brother had never joined them on their adventures, preferring to spend time with his own friends, they still tried to involve him whenever possible.

He could feel the usual melancholy flood through him as he flipped through the pages, settling alongside the nostalgia. His mother had found it several years ago, right after his father's death, giving it to him to commemorate the 'death' of Stanley. He had used to spend hours flipping through it, feeling the pang of his brother's loss every time he did. As he looked through it now, he still felt that pang. Only now it wasn't because his brother was still lost in some other dimension; now, it was because he knew they would never get this back. They would never have the relationship they once shared.

And it hurt.