Ford hadn't been in the Multiverse very long when he'd met another person exiled there. It had been only about five years. Five years of running. Five years of thievery and trickery. Five years of hunger, pain, scars, and turmoil. Five years of loneliness. Five years of everything the Multiverse was.
He'd been in a particularly mountainous dimension (as far as he could tell) and had taken to traveling through the night. Vulture-like birds swirled the peaks during the day, eating anything and everything that moved on the slopes. Ford didn't exactly feel like fighting birds three times his size, so he stole away during the day, inside of the many caves that were scattered along the cliff. He followed his scanner towards the nearest interdimensional rifts, hoping to make it before the closest ones closed.
He had the strange sense that he was being followed. That was something his subconscious was always telling him, but it felt stronger here. With senses heightened he trudged on. He could fend off whatever threat was tracking him down. Axolotl knows he'd done it dozens of times before.
To his dismay, he felt several drops of rain land on him, and before he knew it he was soaked. The rain poured down across the entire mountain range, even though it had been perfectly cloudless last time Ford had looked up. He moved as fast as he could, watching his steps so he didn't disappear over the edge. His hair fell plastered to his face, and his coat and sweater stuck to his body, making movement hard. The thought of his small diary getting wet crossed his mind, and he forced himself to keep moving.
Finally, after what felt like an hour or so, he reached a dark hole inside of the cliff to his left. He slipped inside and breathed a sigh of relief. The wind outside began to whistle, and he turned around to see the rain pick up intensity. He literally couldn't see anything outside besides the drops coming one after another. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to light a fire for at least another few hours he resigned himself to sitting down and watching the rain, hoping that he didn't catch hypothermia.
As soon as he turned around though, someone or something strange hurtled into his back, knocking him to the stone ground. He let out a shout and tried to flip around, but whoever it was was too strong, and pressed a knee into his back. "Krazden!" he shouted, and the figure hissed, "Krazden to you as well... Wait... Ford?" At the mention of his name Ford froze, his eyes widening. The person on top of him hadn't known who he was.
"Perhaps..." he said, not wanting to let the man know who he was. He felt the knee stop pressing against him as hard as before but still kept him down. He contemplated throwing the man off of him and making a stand but decided against it.
"That makes so much sense!" The man exclaimed, "No wonder Bill... No, no, no, there's too much to... You came for me!" Ford felt his confusion rising, along with his heartbeat. "Um... Do I know you?" He asked, and it was the man's turn to freeze. "Uh... yeah? I should say so... I am your brother after all..."
Dipper's head hurt, for a number of reasons. First off: he'd just been dropped several feet onto a rock floor. Second: his sister had trusted their 'Grunkle' and not him, even though he had the real argument there. Third: after everything that had happened to him, physically and mentally, he had the right to have a headache.
He looked up at the portal, feeling wonder and contempt for the looming device. His eyes widened as a figure became visible from inside of the whiteness of the center. His mind struggled to make sense of the person stepping towards him. "Who... Who is that?" he asked, not truly expecting a response. But Stan answered him anyway, "The Author of the Journals... My brother."
Through the portal, the moment after Stan had said that another figure came out, with about the same build as the first. This one stepped towards the second one, who looked over at him, before the two of them pulled their black facemasks off, revealing two faces that looked nearly identical to each other and Stan. If Dipper hadn't been so focused on the fact that one of them was the Author, he'd have asked who the other one was, but not even Stan could answer that question.
The first Stan lookalike knelt down for a moment and came back up with the first Journal, which he placed inside of his coat. The second one took another step forward, to stand next to him. Stan himself began to cross the room, allowing Dipper to go over to Soos and stand between him and Mabel.
"Finally, after all these long years of waiting!" Stan exclaimed, throwing his arms out wide. The two figures shared a look, and the older looking one took yet another step towards Stan. "You're actually here! Bro-"
A fist slammed into Stan's jaw, knocking him back a step. Stan gasped, and rubbed his injured jaw. "Ow! What on Earth was that for?" He glared at his brother, who folded his arms. Stan didn't seem to have noticed the third old man, who had his eyebrows raised and came over to stand next to the Author.
"This was an insanely risky move, restarting the portal." The Author stated, looking about ready to punch Stan again. "Didn't you read my warnings?" Stan groaned, then said, "Warnings, shmornings. How's about a little thanks for saving you from..." His eyes slid over to the other man, and widened. "Uh... Who are you?"
"Honestly, has he always been like this?" The man asked, rolling his eyes. "Haven't you met me before? I mean, you had to explain Ford's disappearance somehow." Stan gaped at the man, then looked back at 'Ford'. "Uh... What?"
"Grandpa Sherman?" Mabel said, stepping towards the three of them. The old men looked over at the girl, who had her eyebrows raised and a confused expression on her face. Ford and his accompaniment shared a look, then refocused on the sweater-wearing girl. "Uh... What?" The youngest of the three asked, shifting nervously. His glove covered hands were wrung in front of him, and Ford raised a hand to his forehead.
"Sherman, in this world you were never sent through. You probably settled down and... Oh man. That..." Stan opened his mouth, and a half-disgusted look came across his already confused features. Sherman had his own look of disgust, and muttered, "Just another thing he screwed up for me... Thanks Ford."
Mabel blinked at Sherman, who held a hand up to his temple, his fingers resting lightly on his forehead. "Okay... Um... Hey kiddo... I know what you're thinking. I'm actually another version of your grandpa..." he laughed and shook his head, dropping his hand again. "Cool, huh? I'm guessing that your grandpa's not a space-pirate, right?" The girl took a step towards Stan, looking somewhat frightened, then she exclaimed, "You're a space-pirate!? That's so cool!"
"Wait, wait, wait," Stan said, holding his hands up and shaking his head, "You're Shermie? Like, my little bow-tie wearing brother Shermie?" He glanced at his twin for support, and Ford nodded at him. Stan blinked profusely at his brothers, then he asked, "How did you two meet? Why... I mean, it's obvious why you traveled together... How did Shermie end up on the other side?"
Ford and Sherman shared a glance, then Sherman said in a quiet voice, "Well... It all started when I was twelve..."
Sherman looked up at Ford's house. His brother's postcard held tightly in his left hand, his backpack slung over his other shoulder. To say that he had been surprised and worried when he received Ford's letter would be an understatement. Why had Ford reached out to him? What had happened? Was Ford okay? Why did he say to not tell mom and dad?
He trudged through the snow, glancing warily at the warning signs surrounding the house. He stepped onto the familiar porch, and took a deep breath. "It's okay Sherman... He's probably just really overreacting." The boy reassured himself, holding his right gloved hand up to the door in a fist. "He's Ford, he's not gonna kill you or anything..."
He made three solid knocks, then almost fell over at the door was flung open and the sharp tip of an arrow was shoved towards his nose.
"Who is it? Have you come to steal my eyes!?"
Sherman felt his heart skip a beat. He knew that Ford owned a crossbow, but to want to use it against random people just showing up at his house? And when he knew that Sherman was coming? That just wasn't like Ford. "Chill out!" He cried, holding his hands up, "It's just me Twelve! Don't shoot!"
To his relief, Ford seemed to recognize him. "Sherman." He stated, glancing at his brother's left and right, "Thank goodness... Did anyone follow you? Anyone at all?" Sherman saw that Ford's eyes looked about ready to slide shut, and that his clothes looked like he hadn't changed them in several days. As Ford spoke he slid his crossbow inside, right next to the door. What was going on?
"Uh... No." he answered, looking over his shoulder behind him. "Why would anyone do that?" Before he could look back, Ford grabbed the front of his blue winter jacket and yanked him inside, Sherman turned his head over in a snappish action, and was about to say something when a bright light was shined directly into his eyes.
"Hot Belgian Waffles! Ford!" Sherman shoved his brother's hands, and subsequent flashlight, away from him, making Ford take a step back, a somewhat wild look in his eyes. "Sorry... Sorry. I just had to make sure you weren't..." Ford seemed to catch himself, his wide eyes blinked shut, then he muttered, "It's nothing... Come in."
Sherman followed his brother inside the house, shutting the wooden door behind him. "Uh... So... What's going on bro? Like... This is weird, even for you." Sherman nearly winced at the sight of all of Ford's possessions in such a state of disarray. Furthermore adding to his impression that something was very wrong. Ford shook his head, then began to ramble, "Listen Sherman, we don't have much time. I've made huge mistakes and you're the only person I can trust right now."
"What about Fiddleford?" Sherman asked, watching Ford turn the head on his skeleton. Ford shook his own head and stated, "Gone. Hates me. I don't blame him."
If Sherman hadn't already been worried about his brother, he was now. Ford said that sentence so darkly, so factually, so... defeatedly, that Sherman had the sudden and utterly strange urge to wrap his arms around him. But he refrained, and Ford placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I have something to show you," he said, his eyes boring into his young brother. "Something you won't believe." Sherman scoffed at that notion. "Uh, I lived with you for a summer, whatever it is, I'll understand."
Sherman had possibly the exact opposite reaction to the portal than the one Stanford was expecting. He took one good look at the triangle, and stated, "Well, at least now I know what you and Fidds were working on last summer."
Ford nodded, "It's a trans-universal gateway." He explained, taking a step forward and folding his arms behind his back, like he was a school teacher. "A punched hole through a weak spot in our dimension. I created it to unlock the mysteries of the universe, but it could just as easily be harnessed for grave danger." Ford spun around, a serious look on his face, which softened once he saw the concern on his brother's.
"That's why I've hidden my Journals." He stated, reaching into his coat and pulling out one of the three documents. "Together they're too dangerous." He held the book out to Sherman, who stared at it wide-eyed. "There's only this one left. And... Sherman... You are the only person I can trust to take it." Ford pushed it more towards his brother, who took a step back.
"What? No! Stanford, you love your Journals." Sherman retaliated, holding a hand out between himself and the book. "I can't just take that from you!" Ford shook his head, "Yes, you can. And you must!" He responded with his own step forward, pressing the book against Sherman's chest. Sherman looked down at it, then back up at Ford's desperate face.
"What happened to you?" he breathed, and Ford answered with, "Nothing happened to me Sherman. Now take this book, get out of here!" Sherman's mouth dropped, and he stated, "No!"
"Stanley- Sherman... Please. For once in your life, listen to me." Ford commanded, his face turning sour. He shoved the book once again at Sherman, who grabbed it out of self-defense. "Take this book. Get on a boat. And get away. Far away. To the edge of the Earth!"
Sherman held the book in his hands, then shouted, "I didn't use all of my money, steal some of dad's, and hitchhike all the way across the country just for you to tell me to go back! I'm not leaving you!" He held the Journal up and added, "And you hate your Journals now? Why? What happened to you? What happened between you and Fiddleford? Who did this to you!?"
Ford and Sherman breathed heavily. "Sherman. Go. Just get out of here. I'll recompensate..." Sherman shouted, "No! It's not about the money! It's about you! Just tell me what's going on!"
Sherman sat in between Ford and Stan in the kitchen, a mug of coffee in front of each of them. The kids had been sent to bed, and Stan had insisted that the three of them talk. It was out of the question that the Shermans would meet. Destroying the universe wasn't high on any of their bucket lists. When Ford said that a sad look had crossed Sherman's face, and Stan had punched him in the shoulder playfully.
"But... If your Ford was still in your universe, why didn't he get you back?" Stan asked, and Sherman swallowed deeply. "Who knows." he mumbled, running a finger up and down the side of his mug. "Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. Once our fight ended I was on the other side. And he knew what was there... Which might explain it..."
"Or he did start it up, but he got another version of us, and not Sherman." Ford said, avoiding eye contact with either of his brothers. He stared at his own mug, and continued, "Your universe might not exist anymore. Dipper and Mabel certainly don't. I don't know if you'll ever be brought back like I was. But... If you don't... We'll be here." Stan nodded, "Yeah, what Poindexter said. You can stay with us."
Sherman smiled at his brothers, a bit of his sadness wearing away. "Thanks Twelve, thanks Fives." The look of confusion Stan gave him made even Ford laugh. "What did you just call us?"
"Think about it. You call Ford 'Sixer', right?" Sherman asked, and Stan nodded, taking a swig of coffee. "Well, I call him Twelve. Twelve fingers. He calls me Ten, so that's out of the question for you. So Fives it is!"
Ford sighed, bowing his head and shaking it. "Just roll with it Stanley. Just roll with it."
Hello everybody! I am back again!
I've had this chapter in the back of my head for a while. So I wrote it! Yay! I've been working on my other fics (actually started a new one, from Reverse Falls Oooh...), so I gave this one some love.
Um... Let's see... The Sherman stuff was one of my three possible... Four possible outcomes of Ford watching Sherman for the summer. I've already done the other three ( Chapter 17, 59, and 66), so this one completes the quartet! Yay! This is the... worst one for Sherman really. I'm not sure if his universe did get destroyed or not, I just know that Ford hasn't saved him yet. All the sadness! At least he gets to hang out with an alternate version of his family though.
Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you have a great day.
-BrilliantLight