Chapter 10: Confusion and Loss

Stanford awoke feeling far more rested than usual. When Bill had come to him at the beginning of the night, Ford had asked his muse to let him sleep normally. He was very tired from the events of the day and wanted the oblivion of deep sleep to escape from the doubts that plagued his thoughts.

Honestly he had forgotten just how nice it was to actually sleep for once. He stretched and then wandered downstairs to see what Stan had made for breakfast. When he got there the kitchen was quiet and empty. No coffee even.

Maybe Stan hadn't been able to fall asleep. Stanford's stomach clenched slightly. He really should have just talked to Stan last night instead of waiting.

He fumbled through the cupboards and got the coffee pot going. Once the aromatic smell of the coffee had permeated the house Fiddleford emerged from his room. His hair was flattened on one side and sticking up on the other and his shirt was half tucked in. He took his usual seat at the table and blinked blearily as he stifled a yawn. Ford poured a cup of coffee for each of them and they sat at the table drinking it in silence, waiting for the caffeine to kick in.

Once he had finished his first cup of coffee Fiddleford looked around, eyes a little more open, and asked, "Where's Stan?"

"I think he's sleeping in," Stanford said.

Fiddleford nodded. He poured himself a second cup of coffee and took a sip.

"So…"

"I know. I'll talk to him first thing when I see him. I just don't want to wake him up," Stanford said quickly, cutting Fiddleford off.

Fiddleford stared at him for a moment. His eyes tracked across Stanford's face and then one eyebrow wandered up.

"I was actually going to ask what you thought we should have for breakfast," Fiddleford said slowly.

Stanford felt his face heat up. For a moment he entertained the fantasy that a Gremoblin might come grab him. He felt Fiddleford's hand on his shoulder and looked up.

"It's gonna be okay," Fiddleford said with a small smile.

Ford met his eyes and returned it weakly.

"How's about we go work on the portal until he gets up," Fiddleford suggested.

"That sounds good."

It was a very successful morning. Stanford and Fiddleford were able finish the portal's internal wiring and circuitry and close up the front panel. At this point all that was really left was the programming.

"It would've been nice to have Stan hold up this plate while I welded it on," Fiddleford commented.

"What you don't trust my arm strength," Ford said pouting.

Fiddleford rolled his eyes and wiped the oil off his hands.

"Why don't we head upstairs? It's almost lunch time and Stan is sure to be up by now," He said.

Ford nodded and took a deep breath. He was a little hunched over and wringing his hands. Fiddleford felt a twinge of sympathy in his chest. He knew well just how bad fights with family could be. He really wished there was more he could do for them.

When they arrived on the main floor Stanley was nowhere to be seen.

Fiddleford walked over to the window.

"His car's gone. He must have gone out to get groceries."

Ford shook his head with a wry smile and said, "I don't remember what we did before we had him to take care of us."

"Ate beans and canned meat and left the dishes until our sink developed an ecosystem," Fiddleford said earning a little chuckle out of his friend.

Lunch passed rather silently with Stanford picking at his food and staring out the window for the majority of the meal. When they were done, Fiddleford wandered upstairs to collect the laundry. Everyone was about due for a wash and if Stan was the designated cook, Fiddleford was the designated laundryman. Anyway, it was a sunny day and Fiddleford had always appreciated having his clothes line-dried. Something about the smell was just really nice. It reminded him of home, now that he thought about it. A small smile drifted over his face at the thought of his family.

When he had collected his own clothes he went upstairs to get Stan's. He always saved Ford's for last because they were usually the smelliest. Who knew what the man got into?

Even though he knew Stan was out, he knocked on the door out of a habit before opening it. When the door slowly creaked open and revealed the room, Fiddleford felt his heart catch in his throat. The pleasant warmth that was in his chest vanished and the laundry basket landed on the floor with a soft thump.

Stanford was sitting at the kitchen table going over some programming notes for the portal. Bill had added on to them last night so he needed to reread them to see what his muse had changed. He was trying hard to ignore the growing feeling of unease in his gut.

"Stanford!"

Fiddleford's voice had a scared ring to it. Ford bolted to his feet and charged upstairs hoping that some terrifying monster wasn't trying to eat his assistant again. He rounded the corner and stopped when he saw Fiddleford standing outside the open door to Stanley's room.

His face was pale and his hands where shaking little. He turned to look at Stanford's puzzled face.

"He's gone."

Confused, Ford pushed up beside him and froze.

Stanley's room was completely empty. Everything was gone, even the bed had been stripped. The sheets were in a neat pile waiting to be washed. A dozen possibilities ran through his head before his mind settled on the only one that fit.

His brother had left. He was too late.

"Why the long face?"

Stanford looked around in surprise. He hadn't even realized that he had fallen asleep. The day had passed in a rapid blur. He noted in a detached sort of way that his mindscape wasn't as colorful as it usually was. All the floating objects seemed to drift about listlessly.

"Hey, cheer up. You're almost done with the portal," Bill said floating over to lean on his shoulder.

"I know," Ford said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "It's just…"

He released a growl of frustration and punched a dictionary that was floating by. There was pain, but it was a detached sort of feeling, like the memory of an injury.

"I didn't think that one argument would be the end. I should have spoken to him! I should have… should have…"

"There.. There…" Bill said patting him on the shoulder as he collapsed to his knees, "Look at me."

He put a finger under Ford's chin and tilted his head up.

"I know this is hard for you, but people move on. This is probably for the best."

"How can you say that?" Stanford said, a prickle of tears in his eyes.

"Well, Stan doesn't exactly like the whole portal thing… right?" Bill asked.

Stanford nodded slowly remembering the conversation he overhead between Fiddleford and Stan.

"It's unfortunate you two had to part on such a note, but it's really best for both of you. He doesn't have to work on the portal which he's uncomfortable with and you don't have to put up with someone who's against your work. Besides, if he left so easily, it's likely he's wanted to for a while. You need to respect his wishes."

"But I really did want to get to know him again," Stanford said softly, staring at one of his hands.

Bill's smaller one closed over it and he looked up to meet the triangle's eye.

"Don't worry Sixer, you've still got me and I won't be going anywhere… from now until the end of time."