It wasn't two seconds after Fiddleford was done untying him that Ford was skidding on his knees before Stan. He immediately checked him for traumas, amazed to find that besides a fever Stan bore no visible injuries.
"Fidds, help me carry him upstairs."
Fiddleford ducked under one of Stan's arms and they lifted him, the slender man immensely grateful they had an elevator to the house's ground level. Mabel and Dipper followed close behind them, gravitating to Stanley. Behind them was Blendin, huffing irritably.
They laid Stan on Ford's bed, the man's face twisting. He did not awake and Ford stood vigilant at the bedside.
"Fiddleford, could you take the kids?" He didn't want to separate the kids from Stan again, but he needed to get Stan into new clothes. After his twin woke he'd have to take a decontamination shower and Ford would burn his old clothes and the bedding to be thorough. Should they take him to the hospital? He'd guess Stan's fever was bacterial, in which case they could get him antibiotics. If it was viral… Stanford hoped it wasn't viral. But if it was he would be the first person to cure viral infections.
On their way out, the kids had stopped in the doorway. They cast a long glance at Stan, his jaundiced complexion now obvious against the bed sheets. Ford tore himself from his brothers side and knelt in front of the kids.
"I know up to now I've failed you, I know you have no reason to trust me or my judgement, but I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure Stan is safe. I will not fail you," he met Fiddleford's eyes, "any of you, again."
Dipper's worry was somewhat quelled, but Mabel's gaze didn't leave Stan's still form. She was mute as Fiddleford gently pulled her away. Ford shut the door behind them, knowing he'd have another breakdown if he had to witness Mabel's woeful face a second longer. Why couldn't Stan be fine? Ford exhaled, laughing mirthlessly. It was his fault this happened. To think that Stan would come home unaffected was foolish.
But now was not the time to lament. Stan needed him to act with a clear head and that's what he was going to do. Ford stripped Stan of his clothes, revealing a myriad of scars. These marks were not from his time in the portal, these were from a decade of living in a harsh world. There were healed scar wounds, cigarette burns, and was that a bullet hole scar? Ford blinked back tears and redressed Stan. Old traumas weren't his concern right now. Those were healed, whatever illness plaguing Stan was in the present and possibly deadly. He had to focus.
His thumb swiped Stan's eyelid up and Ford leapt back. His heart beat against its cage and Ford inhaled deeply. He lifted the eyelid again, realizing that the yellow tinting Stan's eyes was a symptom of jaundice and not Bill. That meant there was a buildup of bilirubin in Stan's system, which was either caused by overproduction of bilirubin or liver failure. Stan hadn't showed any symptoms prior to go through the portal, so that ruled out an obstruction in the bile duct.
How had his symptoms progressed so quickly? Stan was in the portal for less than twenty-four hours. What kind of disease had he contracted? Did time pass differently on the other side? Was what had been hours for Ford been days for Stan? Ford's gut clenched.
That was a question he could ask Stan when he woke up, for the moment he had to problem solve. Steroids were treatment for jaundice, and with how far along Stan seemed to be dialysis might be necessary. A dialysis machine wasn't something he kept on hand, but he couldn't take Stanley to the hospital. If he did have a foreign disease taking him to a hospital would expose other people, many of whom would have compromised immune systems. In a worst case scenario it could cause an epidemic.
No, he had to find a way to treat Stan here.
Stanford poked his head out the door and called Fiddleford. He appeared minutes later, the earlier stress wracking his frame released.
"How is he?"
Ford said nothing for a moment, and he saw some of that stress grab ahold of his friend again. "It's not good. He's jaundiced, and it's far along. If it's a disease that we don't have here we can't take him to the hospital. I'd like you to keep an eye on the kids and yourself for any symptoms."
Fiddleford was about to reply when another voice joined the conversation.
"He said he drank the water." Fiddleford and Ford turned to Blendin.
"A waterborne disease, then." Ford muttered, mind going over a list of possibilities. He began pacing, pausing to look at Blendin. "Who are you?"
Fiddleford answered for Blendin, "he's a time traveler."
"Of course he is." Ford's fingers combed his wild hair back. "Where did I put those medical books?" He wondered aloud.
"N-no need." The man stepped forward proudly, pudgy fingers tapping at his wristwatch. A red light flashed on the watches front and he moved his arm, scanning Stanley. Moments passed and the device beeped. Blendin squinted. "I-in your time, the disease he has is called 'l-leptospirosis'." He stumbled over the last word, looking for recognition in Fiddleford and Ford.
Ford's face had gone blank, memories and facts pinging in his mind. He'd done pre-med in college because it went towards one of his PhD's, and the payoff couldn't have been greater. Advanced leptospirosis was called Weil's Disease, and the treatment was...
"Antibiotics!" Ford exclaimed. "I have penicillin in the lab!" He ran out of the room, followed by the two other men.
"Why in tarnation do you have penicillin?" Fiddleford yelled after him.
"I was using it in an experiment."
"Darn it Stanford, hold on a cotton pickin' minute. We can take 'im to a hospital and let a MEDICAL doctor take care of Stan. Do you even know how to administer it?"
Fiddleford followed Stanford to the lab, eyebrow cocking as the man retrieved an IV stand. "Intravenous administration." He said, the ghost of a smirk twitching his mouth. He set it down and started rummaging again. "I read a…" he paused, dumping the contents of a box on the floor. "Bunch of med books I got from the library, and I," he coughed, "didn't return some of them. Or any of them." He snatched up the thick hardcovers from the floor and leafed through a particularly worn one. "Here, I have all the stuff I need to reconstitute penicillin. Fiddleford," he beamed, unabashedly gleeful. "He's going to be okay. Help me."
Fiddleford sighed, a smile cracking across his face. Truly, Ford could do anything if he set his mind to it.
. . .
"Do you think Grunkle Stan is okay?" Mabel paced the room while Dipper chewed on a pen.
"I don't know." He said honestly.
"Fiddleford's been gone for a long time." Mabel walked faster. "I'm going to see Stan." She started off confidently, Dipper fretfully trailing her.
"McGucket said whatever Stan has might be contagious, he even told us to tell him if we feel weird." He hugged his stomach. "And I have a stomach ache."
Mabel rolled her eyes. "You always get a stomach ache when you're nervous. Remember the first day of kindergarten, you blew chunks all over the teacher."
Dipper's cheeks reddened. "I didn't remember, but now I do. So thanks." He groaned. "Auh, I think my organs are dying."
Mabel was not deterred, passing the kitchen and then backtracking. Blendin's head was in the refrigerator, the man's hips swaying side to side as he sang to himself. Dipper and Mabel stared at him, both wearing perplexed expressions. They shared a grimace and Mabel silently continued to Ford's bedroom, Dipper following after a moment of internal debate.
She climbed onto the bed and grasped Stan's hand. "Wake up, you big dumb-dumb." Her voice was heavy with emotion. "Wake up."
Dipper sat beside her, pulling her into a hug. They stayed that way, their small hands clinging onto Stan's large one. A commotion in the hallway prompted them to turn, Ford bursting into the room, crazed happiness painting his features.
"Kids!" He began to set up equipment, grin not leaving his lips. "Stan's going to be fine. He's contracted a bacterial infection and he just needs some antibiotics."
Ford tied a tourniquet around Stan's upper arm and ripped open a plastic bag. To himself he muttered, "where did I put that bed pan?"
Fiddleford clapped, "okay kids, let's let Ford work his magic." He ushered them out. He silently wondered how a man that was not a doctor had, and knew how to use, an IV, penicillin, and was still stupid enough to make a deal with a demon. A demon that in order to summon he had to read specific instructions warning him that, under no circumstances, should Bill ever be summoned. How could a person so incredibly smart be so stupid? No mystery in Gravity Falls compared to that of the enigma named Stanford Pines.
. . .
Fiddleford and the kids settled in the living room. Now that they knew Stan was going to live the weights pressing on them were lifted. Dipper flopped onto the floor, limbs outstretched. Mabel sat, body loose, a few paces from her twin. She closed her eyes and exhaled, the exhaustion of the last day catching up to her. Their secret was out and no one was lost to the portals other side.
What if they hadn't gotten him back? What if it had taken Ford thirty years to get Stan home? She and Dipper would have been forty-two before seeing Stan again. Ever worrying and wondering if he was dead or alive, if he was warm enough or had food to eat. Mabel had always been sympathetic with her Grunkles plight, but going through what he had for a day made her heart ache for the man. How had he done it? Mabel was sure she'd get an ulcer if she had to suffer this last day for thirty years. But when they came to Gravity Falls she and Dipper sensed nothing amiss. Was he simply a master actor, or did the anguish fade into the background of daily life?
What is she had lost Dipper? She didn't think she had the strength to go on as Stan had. She couldn't imagine picking up the pieces of her broken heart and stitching them together. How had Stan kept from falling apart at the seams? Mabel was sure she'd have given up, but Stan persevered for three decades, not knowing if his twin was alive or dead.
Mabel shook her head and those thoughts away. What-if's needn't be pondered. Stan was back, and the prospect of losing him made her longing for home lessen. She and Dipper were together and while she'd miss their parents dearly, she knew she could love this life. The lie they'd been living was one she could convince herself to believe. She'd failed to see Stanley's hidden pain, but this younger version didn't have the same defenses. His walls, brick upon brick, built thick and tall, weren't there. Ten years on his own had toughened him, but he still helped them. He had so little in the world and he shared it with them.
The summer of 2012 was the first time she could remember meeting Stan, but after three short months she couldn't imagine life without him. From the moment he took them in she sensed the love he felt for them. Inexplicable, it must have been for him, to care about children he didn't know.
Thus remained the question: did they tell him the truth? Stan didn't know they were his relatives from the future, wasn't aware of the history he'd have endured if they'd not intervened. He didn't need to know. He could wake up to a world where everyone was willing to play pretend roles in a real family. And there was no true downside to telling him, either. Sparing him the harsher details would be no crime.
Now that Bill had revealed himself as the sociopath he was and Ford realized everything the demon spoon fed him had been lies, they could move on. Like Stanley, this version of Ford was not as jaded. From the moment he stepped out of the portal Mabel had only seen Ford act with reined resentment and civility towards Stan. This younger Ford, not changed by thirty unwilling years spent abroad, was still initially unsure of Stan. Yet the morning after their arrival he did not act coldly towards Stan. Ford had been making a substantial effort to mend his relationship with Stan. Mabel and Dipper were left many times under Fiddleford's supervision while Stan and Ford ran errands.
The aged Grunkle she'd known hated shopping and outings in general, but each time they returned Stan's face was alight with happiness. Ford was no less expressive, his smile betraying him. They'd stepped into the rhythm that had taken a ten year hiatus.
Telling them the truth had no obvious consequences, but she was hesitant to threaten the delicate dynamic their family was built on. Realistically, it wouldn't change anything. Stan wouldn't stop loving them. Ford wouldn't send them away. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was they needed to tell Stan the truth.
"Dipper, what's that thing Mark Twain said?"
Dipper's head lifted off the floor, one eye open and swung in her direction. His head thudded on the carpet as he let it fall. "About what?"
"About telling the truth."
"If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything." Fiddleford answered from his position on the couch.
"Ooh." Dipper said understandingly. He stared at the ceiling, eyes wide, contemplating. "Well," he trailed off. "Well." He propped himself up on his elbows. "Stan's the only one who doesn't know. We can tell him when he wakes up."
Mabel smiled at him, and Dipper smiled back.
"Speaking of which, Stan won't be awake for a while. Why don't you two get some shut eye?"
Mabel and Dipper groaned, both flopping onto the floor. Fiddleford chuckled. "Go on upstairs and grab your pillows. We can put on a movie and nap down here."
. . .
Where was he? He was lying on a bed, not his car seat. The room didn't smell sterile or of chemicals and the bedding beneath him was soft. He remembered being in a vaguely horrible place, but now the memories escaped him. At the time they'd been so vivid, and with wakefulness the details were slipping out of this head. Maybe, he thought, he'd dreamt the entire thing.
A sound wormed out of his dry throat and something on the mattress shifted.
"Stanley?"
He opened his eyes, greeted by the sight of his unshaven brother. The overhead lighting was too bright for his unadjusted eyes and Stan winced.
"Aug, how much did I drink?"
Ford blinked. "Stan, Stan," he laughed in earnest. "You're not hungover." his demeanor turned serious. "How do you feel?"
"Like I got hit by a truck."
"What's the last thing you recall?"
Stan thought back, a sick feeling knotting in his stomach. "I… went through that thing in the basement?"
Ford nodded, remorse making his shoulders slump. "Stanley, I am so, so sorry."
"Heh, 's fine. You got me back, didn't you?"
"Y-yeah, I guess I did." Ford sat numbly on the edge of the bed. "I got you back." Tears wet his eyes and Ford flung himself on Stan, hugging him. Stan yelped and Ford pulled away.
"Sorry!" He checked the IV in Stan's arm. "I forgot about that."
Stan followed his gaze to the IV and then to the stand and drip bag. "Ford… why are we not in a hospital?"
His brother rubbed the back of his neck. "I had everything to treat you at home. I apologize, but I assure you that I was very capable of-"
"Sixer, Sixer! It's fine, I hate hospitals. You get sicker being there for some quack to give you a prescription than you do riding it out."
Ford couldn't agree with his logic, but he was glad Stan didn't appear to be holding any grudges. "Where are the kids, are they okay?"
"The kids! They'll be so happy you're up!" Ford darted out of view and a minute later was dragging in bedraggled Dipper, Mabel, and Fiddleford. The twins eyes lit up and they scrambled onto the bed.
"Grunkle Stan!" They exclaimed, mindful of his IV as they burrowed into either one of his sides.
"Miss me?"
Their holds tightened and wet spots blossomed on Stan's shirt. He covered their shaking bodies with his arms. Mabel rubbed her face into the fabric of his shirt and sent a questioning look to Fiddleford. He nodded.
"Grunkle Stan, we have something to tell you when you're feeling better."
. . .
It was another few hours before Stan was deemed fit to receive the news. He was forced to shower, eat, and undergo a physical examination that Ford insisted on. They had seen each other naked many times as children and teenagers, and they were identical twins, it shouldn't have been embarrassing. But every time Ford's fingers traced a scar his brother became unbearably sad. Stan hated seeing him that way, burdened by his own recklessness.
Eventually they were all seated in the living room, the curtains open to let in the afternoon light. The kids and the adults looked equally anxious.
"Stanley," Fiddleford said tentatively. "The kids have something to tell you."
"Grunkle Stan," Dipper began. "We're not street kids. Mabel and I… we're you're great niece and nephew from the future."
To his credit, Stan didn't outwardly show his disbelief. He glanced at Stanford, and then to Fiddleford. They each nodded their confirmation. Stan's widened eyes returned to the kids.
"H-how?"
"We came here by accident, we didn't intend for you to find us. But after you did Mabel and I decided to change some pretty horrible things we knew were going to happen."
They told him about their outlandish summer with him, up to the day they were sent back in time. He'd punched a pterodactyl in the eye to save Mabel's pet pig and fought his way through a mob of zombies to protect the kids. He'd run his own business for thirty years, and he'd been successful. Stan Pines, a high school dropout, had taught himself engineering and physics.
When the kids finished Ford stepped forward and told his part of the story. He told them how he'd been fooled by Bill's flattery, believed the demon was his friend. By the end the man's hands were trembling and he was fighting back tears.
"Wow. Just… wow. Well, I guess that actually kind of makes sense, about you kids I mean. You were always a step ahead of me, just like a good con-man. But… what now? Fidds and Ford can probably fix your time machine, and I'm sure the old me is missing you a whole lot."
Mabel and Dipper stiffened, the idea not one they'd thought of. Suddenly given the option to go home, they both found themselves hesitant. They loved their uncles and Fiddleford, leaving them was a prospect too painful.
"I'm sure we can figure this out-" Fiddleford said, cut off.
"What's going to happen now is you two are going home, and this whole splinter timeline is going to be erased from existence."
All eyes turned to Blendin, who stood in the doorway with his legs spread wide and his arms crossed.
"No!" Mabel cried. "You can't! Not when we fixed everything." Blendin's glare softened.
"T-this isn't even my call. Someone else will notice this and put in the order to demolish it."
Mabel wailed and clung to Stan. Dipper was quiet and thoughtful, hand on his chin.
"What about Globnar?" he asked.
"What about Globnar?"
"You challenged us to Globnar, can't we challenge you and get the paradox-free wish from Time Baby?"
Blendin frowned, thinking. "Globnar is only something you can call upon when you're facing a Time Trial. Otherwise every Dick, Tom and Harry would enact on it."
Dipper hit his fist on his palm. "So charge us with a crime, we have to have committed one. We'll invoke Globnar, you let us win and we can wish for this universe to be spared and choose whatever fate you want."
"Hold yer horses," Fiddleford said loudly. "What is 'Globnar'?"
"It's a series of challenges, the winner gets a wish. We've done it once before." Dipper explained.
"And we aced it!" Mabel added.
"Is it dangerous?" Fiddleford demanded, hands on his hips.
"No." Dipper said immediately.
"Nah, child's play." Mabel moved to stand beside Dipper, grinning too largely.
"It really was." Blendin groused. "I want to be a judge, I'm tired of these fieldwork missions."
"You'll help us?" Dipper asked hopefully. Blendin regarded him for a moment and nodded.
"Just remember, District Time Court Judge."
The kids moved to stand by Blendin. "We can do this." Dipper said, standing tall. "We have to do this."
. . .
As he'd proven before, Fiddleford was the most responsible of the adults. He discussed things with Blendin at great length before conceding that letting them proceed was the best course of action.
"Okay, one more time. You two are high profile so processing will go very fast, you'll have a hearing right after booking. Time Baby will be presiding, at the hearing when he asks for your plea you need to challenge me to Globnar. If you win, it negates the charges against you. You'll make your wish and I won't have to deal with this grunt work anymore."
"That judicial system sounds completely ridiculous." Stanford muttered dryly.
"Man, I could have avoided prison in three different countries if that's how we did things." Stan said.
Blendin ignored their commentary and handcuffed the kids. "Ready?"
Two nods answered him. "Alright." He grabbed his tape measure.
"Wait, that's broken." Mabel said.
Blendin guffawed. "I fixed it while you were all busy. The tape got bent and the whole thing was smashed around, some circuitry had to be soldered into place, but other than that it was okay."
Fiddleford, who'd been standing by silently, piped up. "I'm confused. You said it went through a wormhole, which sent it into the past, that's how the twins got here. So it has no discernible point of origin, but you didn't mention it having problems before it went into the wormhole. How did it break?"
Blendin's mouth opened, but no words came out. He looked to the kids. "What happened, anyway?"
They told him how they'd stumbled upon it and how it had activated. Blendin said nothing for a long time.
"We have no way of knowing it went directly from point to point. It could have gone anywhere else in the universe before ending up where they found it." He said. "It's possible someone else tampered with it trying to get to that date and the tape snagged. When you two found it you must have jostled it in a way that made the tape snap. That's really all I can think of, from what you've told me." He held up the device, fingers grasping the tape measures tip. "Let's get this over with."
. . .
"You, Dipper and Mabel Pines, are charged with reckless time endangerment and illegal use of a Time Agents time travel device. How do you plead?" Time Baby's voice boomed throughout the courtroom and Dipper held his chin up.
"We challenge Blendin Blandin, the arresting officer, to Globnar."
"Globnar." Time Baby repeated. "Tell you what, you plead guilty and I'll only sentence you to one hundred years of jail time."
"No, we'd really prefer Globnar."
Time Baby gave a long, exaggerated groan. "Very well."
. . .
The twins breathed heavily, burning lungs making the sting of cuts and scrapes fade. They had made it to the end, and Dipper was certain that the game's difficulty had been increased from the last time. This time instead of just a cyclops they also had to defeat a horde of harpies, but they'd made it to the final challenge.
Blendin had kept neck and neck with them, not wanting Time Baby to suspect their ruse.
"And now, the final challenge, the ancient art of laser tag." Time Baby announced. "Good luck, and watch out for the electric snakes."
"Electric wha-" Mabel screamed, jumping on one leg while hugging the other.
"We add extra obstacles for anyone who's not a first timer. Get zapped three times and you automatically forfeit to your opponent."
"That's not fair!" Mabel snapped. "Ow! Gosh darn it!"
"Auh!" Blendin cried out, the sizzle of singed flesh audible. "This is worse than paintball!"
"Ooh, we should play that next." Mabel said.
Dipper darted for the wishing orb, zigzagging and pushing forward when zapped. He tripped over one of the slithering snakes, getting zapped for a second time. The boy was down only a moment, running so fast he thought his feet might lift off the ground. A sparking snake darted across his path and Dipper jumped, launching himself towards the orb.
"We have a winner!" Time Baby's voice reverberated through the arena and Dipper felt all the tension leave his body.
"I wish for the universe we created by going back in time to be allowed to exist, and we want Blendin to be a District Time Court Judge."
Time Baby didn't seem the least bit surprised by their wish and with a wave of his hand it was done. "You may choose to stay in that universe if you like, but wherever you choose you must stay there. Leaping between timelines causes the space time fabric to unravel. Judge Blendin, if you'd be so kind as to escort these two home. I need to get back to my napy-nap."
"O-of course, Time Baby."
The gigantic baby clapped his hands together and transported from the arena. Blendin pumped his fist.
"We did it!"
Mabel and Dipper nodded, the euphoria of victory dampened by the decision they now faced.
Blendin looked at them expectantly. "Where to?"
EDITED 11/2/17: Okay, I'm guilty of writers remorse. I posted this thinking I wanted to end the story with this chapter and in the end I knew I could do better. I apologize. If you didn't read it before editing, the twins go back home and the pacing is super crappy. So they'll be a few more chapters, the main reason being is that I'm not ready to say goodbye to this story yet.
