Ford had learned something about the Multiverse. Never get hurt.

That was something that was true even in his own universe, but it was especially true in the Multiverse. Whatever you do, keep yourself uninjured.

Yay Ford. This rule was very difficult for him to keep. He had bandages of various sizes plastered all over his body. Pain was something he was used to now, but it was still difficult to do things.

So when Stan actually opened the portal, Ford was actually somewhat grateful for it. He could finally grow his sideburns again!

"Who is that?" Dipper breathed. Dipper wasn't sure what he thought the portal did. As far as he could tell, Grunkle Stan didn't have any reason to visit another world. But why would the Author make it? How did Grunkle Stan get ahold of it? So many questions...

A completely covered figure had stepped out of the portal. There was literally no part of his (or at least Dipper assumed that it was a he) body that showed. The man, and it was a man, took off his mask, revealing two blackened eyes and a gash on his cheek.

"The Author of the Journals," Stan replied, and Dipper almost didn't hear the last part of his statement. "My brother."

The Author took a step forward, and Dipper noticed that he was favoring his left side slightly. He was the Author! How? He looked so young, barely older than Dipper's dad. How could he be Grunkle Stan's brother?

The Author rubbed his eyes with his gloved hands, "Thank the Axolotl. I can finally stop looking like a raccoon-person." He mumbled, and he pulled his gloves off, dropping them next to his discarded mask.

Pretty much his entire hand was covered in tiny cuts and a few minor burns. Stan's eyes were wide as he stared at the tiny bit of skin that he could see.

"Ford... What happened to you?"

'Ford' rubbed the bruised bridge of his nose. "Stanley... I don't have much I can say." He muttered, and there was a tired part of his voice. Dipper watched him with a strange fascination. He wanted to know what had happened to him almost as much as Grunkle Stan did... Wait. Did Ford just call Grunkle Stan 'Stanley'? But Stan was Stanford... Ford...

"You see... When you're not in a dimension, your body stops growing." Ford said, rubbing his left arm with his opposite hand. Stan's eyes scanned every bruise and cut he could see, along with several bandages and stitches.

"So... You've barely aged?" He asked, and Ford nodded. "I was trapped there for years... Decades... Eons maybe." Ford answered, and Dipper heard a tiredness fall over the injured man. "I lost track of the days after a thousand or so. Every day was the same... It was sort of like being Peter Pan."

Stan nodded, and he stepped towards his brother. "Do you need me to get you a med-pack? Something? Anything?"

Ford shrugged, and mumbled, "Coffee maybe? I haven't eaten or drank anything since... Uh... Dimension 52... Which was..." He lifted his hand up and counted on his bent fingers. Stan winced as he saw that a lot of them were crooked. Note to self: maybe getting older wasn't that bad.

"Why didn't you just stay there?" Stan asked, and Ford dropped his hand and looked at Stan, a smile playing on his lips. "Believe me Stan, I wanted to. But... As always, whenever something from one Dimension is in another..." He snapped with his left hand, and Stan grimaced slightly. "The fabric of reality starts tearing. And trust me, that's not something you want in your world."

Stan swallowed, and Ford suddenly swayed, a pained gasp escaped him, and Stan watched his brother crumple to the floor. "On second thought Stanley..." Ford mumbled, grabbing his left side and wincing. "A med-pack sounds lovely. Make sure you have disinfectant..." Stan nodded, and spun around. He contemplated ordering Soos to go get it, but decided against it. He rushed past Dipper and Mabel, not paying their stunned looks any attention.

With Stan gone, Ford got a chance to look at the other three occupants of the room. Mabel moved timidly up to him, and kneeled next to him. "Hi... I'm Mabel." She said, and Ford smiled at her. "Stanford. How do you know my brother?"

"Oh, he's our Grunkle. Grunkle Stan." Mabel said, watching Ford suck air in sharply between his teeth. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Oh, yes, yes. I'll be fine." Ford muttered, moving his hand away from his side. There was the slightest touch of blood, but it didn't look... Oh man. Blood had soaked his coat. Mabel grabbed his hand before he could try to force himself up. "Stay down. I don't want to have to carry you to Grunkle Stan." She told him, and he nodded. "Sorry... Habit." He mumbled, and Mabel pulled her sweater off and put it where his head should go on the floor.

"So... Grunkle Stan..? Is that like uncle or..." He said, lying down and placing his head on top of Mabel's sweater. Mabel nodded, then explained her relation to Stan. Ford smiled painfully over at her, and sighed with relief when Stan returned, with what appeared to be an entire shelf of medical items.

"Never used them in the Shack." He mumbled, and Ford squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm guessing you'll want me to take my shirt off." He said, and Stan rolled his eyes. "Of course not Poindexter. It's your sweater that's injured..."

Ford sighed, and reached down to pull the article of clothing off. His torso wasn't that badly hurt, but there was a deep cut on his left side, and it looked bad. Stan helped him clean it and wrap it up, only after Ford insisted that he could do without extra patching up.

"Honestly Stanley, normally if I had a deep cut, like when I had my plate installed, I'd stay in the newest safe dimension..." Ford explained, wrapping the bandage around his stomach. "This is a newer one. I'll be fine. Should take about a mo... Moth? Was that what it was called?" Ford held a finger up to his jaw, and looked off at the portal, which he was facing. "I'm pretty sure the word is moth... Right? Days, weeks, moths, years... I sorta forgot."

Stan felt like he had no control over his body. He began to laugh, slight chuckles at first, then it became a cackling hysteria. He was slap happy. This was fine... This was fine...

"And here's your sweater!"

Mabel shoved a newly finished sweater into her uncle's splintered hands. He had exactly six broken fingers, and one fractured one. Stan had gotten tiny splits for all of them, then there was his dislocated shoulder ("actually I could have fixed that one, but I forgot..."), and his eyes. Stan couldn't really bear to look at his face for the first couple of weeks. Racoon was not a look that Ford rocked.

Ford looked down at the red fabric. Several of his old red turtle-necks had moth holes in them (they were thirty years old), and he had asked Mabel for help with them.

Apparently, she had helped quite a lot more than she had told him she would. The sweater he was holding had words stitched into it, Don't mess with the Author. You will get written up!.

"Do you like it?!" She asked, and Ford glanced between his sweater and niece. "It's..." He began, rubbing it with his unbroken thumb. "It's lovely. I'm just never going to let Stan see it..."

Mabel giggled, "No, no, no, Stan knows about it." She said, folding her arms and smiling at him. "He's the one who told me what to write. I think Dipper will approve." Ford nodded and raised his eyebrows slightly. That statement was true...

"Will you help me put it on?" He asked her, clumsily grabbing the edges and handing it to her. Mabel nodded and pulled it ready to put over his thin black t-shirt. Ford held his arms out, and Mabel dragged it over them. Now came the fun part.

After about five minutes, Mabel got the collar over Ford's head without hurting him too badly. All of his bandages weren't in the same position, but Stan changed them every couple of hours like clockwork. Ford thanked Mabel and leaned back in his bed. "Wow. Look at me. Putting on clothes is now an adventure. How on Earth did I survive for thirty years?"

Mabel shrugged. "I don't know. Here, I'll go get us Mabel-juice... Unless you want coffee..."

Ford wanted coffee.

Hello guys! I'm here again.

What is it with me and giving Ford injuries? I'm sorry Ford! You're just so easy to hurt! I don't remember what made me think about if the Multiverse didn't really allow the passing of time, but I did.

Who knows how long Ford was there? He could have been there for centuries. I think he'll be better now that he knows he won't outlive everyone... Except for Stan... That's sad... Uh... Smoke bomb!

Anyway, just FYI, I am still taking prompts! Yay! If you've sent me some, and I haven't posted a chapter with it, it's mostly my fault. I like to have a basic overview of what I want to do with them. You can put them in the reviews and/or PMs.

And... Uh. Have a great day! The number sixteen!

-BrilliantLight