After thirty years, Ford was completely ready to see his twin again. While he stepped through the last wormhole (hopefully) he tried to think of something to say to Stan after all these years. Anger was bubbling in his chest, and his legs sort of ached from being chased and chasing Bill. Stan couldn't have picked a worse time to bring Ford back.
When he came into his dimension everything was dark. He took his goggles off of his face, stepping towards the back of the room.
...And nearly tripped over a figure lying next to the shutdown switch.
Ford regained his balance before he could fall flat on his face. He fumbled for his glasses, which were loosely hanging onto his face. He looked down at the ground, where the figure he had run into lay. The figure looked up at him, and pushed itself up, letting out a gasp. Ford felt his eyes widen as he recognized the young man in front of him.
"Stanley?" Ford asked, staring at down at his brother, who couldn't even be forty. Stan looked exactly like he had thirty years ago, down to that horrid sweaty jacket. Stan stared at him as well, and choked out, "Ford? You... I almost... You're okay!"
Had Ford jumped through time?
A flood of emotions overcame Stan. In a literal second any anger he felt towards his brother completely vanished, replaced by worry, and immeasurable shame. He watched in horror as Ford's body began to float towards the portal, true unquenchable terror filling his eyes. Ford threw his Journal at him, and was swallowed by the portal, screaming Stan's name.
Well, that would haunt his nightmares.
Once he recovered from a tiny explosion that went through the room, he dashed over to the metal rod that he had knocked Ford into. He pulled it, and when it didn't budge he pushed all his weight on it. He pulled so hard he lost his balance, but his fall had just enough strength to pull the portal back on.
Fighting an immense urge to cry he couldn't find the strength to do anything but lie there. Then a moment later he felt something solid crash into him, and he let out a small cry of pain.
Looking up he saw a tall dark figure standing above him. It was a man, who looked down at saw Stanley. The man's eyes widened, and Stan did so as well. He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the overwhelming pain that was coming from his shoulder. The figure stared at him, and said in Ford's voice, "Stanley?" Stan's brain was having a devil of a time figuring out what was going on, and he could only say, "Ford? You... I almost... You're..." Ford shifted uncomfortably, and Stan splurted out, "You're okay!"
Ford didn't move. Stan tried to reach out, to hug him, but Ford took a step back. "Stan... What year is it?" Stan blinked at his brother, who looked upset, nervous, and nautious. "Uh... Eighty-two? I sorta lost track." Stan scanned his brother, who ran hand through his... grey hair? Why did Ford have grey hair? "Stanley... How long have I been gone?"
"A few seconds." Stan answered, without even thinking about it. "How long have you been gone?" Ford gulped, running a hand down his face. "Stanley... It's been thirty years. I've been gone for thirty years. And yet no time at all..."
Stan didn't know if it was the lack of sleep, malnourishment, burning pain in his shoulder, or overall soreness, but he found his mind completely shutting down. His feet, which he had just gotten back onto, suddenly couldn't hold him up anymore, and he found himself falling into his brother's arms. Ford caught him almost gracefully, and completely supported both of their weight. Stan breathed quickly, feeling like he couldn't get enough oxygen.
"Oh cratz'ig, Stan... Are you okay?" Ford asked, gently maneuvering Stan so that he could stand and lean against him. Stan wanted to blurt out that he was fine, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a small cry of pain. "Your shoulder... I'm so sorry Stan..."
Ford began to slowly walk towards the exit of the room, Stan having no choice but to go with him. This older Ford seemed a lot stronger than the Ford who had been there only a minute before. "Stanley, I'm going to take care of you. I've gotten some medical experience in the multiverse, and hopefully I can fix you up good as new." Stan didn't have the mental capacity, or energy, to respond, only following Ford upstairs, where he promptly passed out on Ford's freezing couch.
When Stan woke up it was a lot warmer than when he fell asleep, there was the whistle of a teakettle that was quickly cut off. Stan lifted his head, and listened to the sound of someone moving around a kitchen. He eventually let his head fall back on a brown pillow, but he kept his eyes open.
A moment later a man he was almost sure was his father stepped into the room. His heart almost skipped a beat, then the memory of the night before snapped into place. He had pushed Ford through the portal, got him back, but he was old. The old Ford walked over to the couch Stan was lying on and drew a chair up next to him. There was a sad look in his eyes, and Stan wondered what it was for.
"Oh good, you're awake." Ford said, giving Stan a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "How are you feeling?"
"Like a bag of dog vomit." Stan said truthfully. Ford chuckled, "Well, I would as well. I remember when I woke up from my surgery, I felt like I had been run over by a steamroller. Are you hungry, or should I treat your burn first?" When Stan didn't respond Ford sighed, "Your burn it is I guess." He moved out of Stan's line of sight, and the next thing he knew a cool wet object was pressed against the most sensitive part of his body.
Shouting a bit (and adding a bit of colorful language) Stan did his best to try to wiggle away from his brother while Ford simply worked quickly, whispering that it would be okay. Stan highly doubted the truth of his brother's statement, but he let Ford do his job. After what felt like an eternity of unbearable pain, Ford relinquished his death sentence on Stan. Stan fell silent, and Ford said, "I must say, it was far easier when you were unconscious." Stan grit his teeth, glaring up at his brother. "No duh."
"Do you know how long you were out?" Ford asked, and Stan laughed, "No, I was asleep. How long?"
Ford's face grew a smile, and Stan rolled his eyes. "You were asleep for about thirty-six hours. I cleaned up your burn, it's looking better, it might not even scar. I'm sorry about that by the way." Closing his eyes Stan mumbled, "It's okay... I'm the one who should be sorry..."
"Stanley, I had literally branded you. I had also... Well, I was very upset." Ford said, slowly helping Stan sit up, "I probably would have sent you through the portal as well..." Stan couldn't think of anything to say, so he sat in silence while Ford placed some bandages on his burn, then watched as he stepped out of the room. Ford was back in a moment though, and came in with a plate of food in his hands.
"I haven't had time to get groceries yet, I've been keeping a watch on you instead." Ford said, handing him a plate of warm canned beans. "Also... I don't seem to own any bowls... Though I was sure I did." Stan, who had been able to scarf down anything even a week ago, found himself just staring at his plate, not knowing if he really wanted to eat it.
Ford sat down next to him, handing him a spoon. "Come on Stan, you have to eat." Stan shrugged. "I dunno what's wrong with me. This is all so confusing..." Ford sighed, and mumbled, "Of course it is... Imagine how I feel." Stan looked over at him, and Ford explained. "For the past thirty years I thought we were on the same page, now I find out that that's not the case. I've spent half of my life all alone, over half if you count the time since I went to college. I was thinking that you would grow up, change, but I come back and everything is the same... I'm the only different thing."
Stan nodded, not looking at his brother. "I always thought you might change... But I never expected this." Stan mumbled, and Ford laughed. "Yes... It must be quite a shock." He smiled at his brother, and Stan did his best to smile back, but ended up wincing. "Yeah... Now you're an old geezer." Stan joked, lifting his good arm and punching Ford lightly.
"Old I may be, geezer I am not." Ford said, smacking Stan's hand away. "Alright Yoda." Stan teased, smiling widely, but still maintaining a pained expression. "Whatever you say."
Two weeks passed in relative peace. Ford began deconstruction of the portal almost instantaneously, and Stan found himself watching Ford take a mallet to something that just a few days prior he would have died for. It came as a shock to the younger twin, but Stan had to constantly remind himself that Ford had had thirty years to think through this decision.
It was a shame though, the portal was something that had obviously take up so much work, and it was because of stan that Ford was ruining yet another of his scientific discoveries.
But Ford seemed happy though excited even every time he tore a piece of sheet metal off of the structure, or smashed a part of it with a hammer. His hand would always be rough and sore at the end of the day, but Ford would just smile at Stan and tell him that he had waited a long time to do this. Stan would simply smile back and pretend to agree.
Stan's shoulder was rapidly healing up. Whatever Ford had done seemed to make the process so much better, even though Ford still had a hard time keeping Stan still when he placed medicine on it. But Ford had gotten strong in the single second he was gone, and Stan didn't even stand a chance.
After presumably seeing what horrible shape Stan was in, Ford extended an offer for him to stay with him, provided that he got a job as soon as he could. Stan begrudgingly agreed, not really excited at the prospect of having to work, but also wanting to keep his relationship with Ford.
Sometimes Stan would forget exactly what Ford looked like, and he would get caught off guard in the middle of their conversations when he looked at Ford's hair and realized how old he was. Even though he didn't notice it Ford would always look sadly off into the distance whenever Stan did that. Like he was contemplating a future that he hoped would come to fruition.
A year passed, rather quickly it seemed for Stan. Every day he was with Ford seemed to be the greatest day of his life. Even doing menial chores, with his brother joining him, were much better than anything he had done in the past decade. He had thought that he had crazy stories to tell of his life, but it was nothing compared to the true tales that Ford could provide at the drop of a hat.
One day Ford came up to Stan, who was sitting on the couch after a long day at work. Stan acknowledged his older brother, who moved to sit on the chair near Stan.
"Stanley," Ford said, rubbing his hands together. "I have a question to ask you." Stan nodded, not feeling like he had enough energy to talk. Ford took a deep breath in, and said, "I was thinking of going to South America."
Stan blinked at him. "Uh..." he said, a million memories of his own adventures there filling his mind. "Are you sure..? That place doesn't exactly like me." Ford ran a hand through his grey hair. "Yes I'm sure. You see... I have good reason to believe that the fountain of youth, at least one of them, is down there." Stan stared at his brother, and said, "The fountain of what now?"
"Youth." Ford said, like it was no big deal at all. "I was thinking... I'm... well, for lack of a better term, old. And you're still quite young. I... I don't want to... leave you." He took a deep breath, and waited for Stan's answer. The young man opened his mouth wide, then splurted out, "You know where a fountain of youth is?! Heck yah I'm goin' with you!"
Ford sighed, "Good. Now, it's a one time thing, so I was just thinking about reverting myself back to your age, then we can leave it forever." Stan opened his mouth to say something, but Ford cut him off. "Uh-uh Stan. We cannot use it to become immortal. Trust me, that's not something you want. I'll just fix up that one thing... Unless you want to outlive me."
Stan shook his head. "No! Of course... Wait... Will we be taking a boat?" Ford nodded, and Stan's eyes widened. "Uh... Yeah I'm coming with you! We'll finally be able to get a real Stan O' War! I love you!" Stan shoved himself up and nearly knocked Ford over as he gave him a hug.
Ford laughed, accepting Stan's embrace. "Love you too... You're... Squeezing me..."
2012:
Dipper and Mabel stood just inside of their great-uncles' house. Goodness knew hom many scientific and weird things were just lying around the place. Dipper had to admit that we was sort of intruiged by some of the items lying around the house. Mabel's eyes were so wide that they looked like they wanted to pop out of her head, but that tended to be normal in a new environment.
"Alright, your Grunkle Ford'll be out here any minute now..." Grunkle Stan said, looking at a door that read 'Employees only'. "Ford!" he shouted a second later. "You're keeping the niblings waiting!"
"Have patience Stanley... they'll be seeing me all summer." A deep voice said from behind the door. A second later the heavy wooden door swung open, and a man who looked almost exactly like Grunkle Stan stepped out, except he was wearing a red sweater and brown trench coat. "Ah! You must be Mason and Mabel."
Dipper looked at his sister, who smiled and stepped up to him. "Yeah! I'm Mabel!" She stuck a hand out, which Ford shook. "Whoa." Mabel breathed. "You have six fingers." Ford nodded, smiling a bit. "That's so cool!" the young girl said, and Ford laughed. "I am glad you think so... But that's not the only weird thing about me."
"Yeah," Stan said, shoving Dipper's shoulder a bit towards Ford. "Ask him how old he is. I still don't believe it." Ford sent a glare at his brother, and Mabel asked, "Cool! How old are you!?" Her Grunkle sighed, and said in a low voice, "I was referring to my time spent you-know-where, but my age does count." He puffed his chest and said, "I'm going on ninety-three years old."
Mabel's jaw dropped, and Dipper raised his eyebrows. "You look good for ninety," Dipper said, and Ford chuckled. "Thank you. The fountain of youth helped. Took us two long years to find it, but that trip was totally worth it."
Mabel's eyes sparkled, and Dipper knew that his great uncle would be receiving a barrage of questions. Luckily he got out of listening to them by carrying their luggage upstairs though.
That attitude changed once he found the Journal though.
It took Dipper almost a full month to muster the courage to talk to his uncle about the strange Journal that he had found. In that month alone he had gotten into no less than ten different life-threatening scenarios, and had had one too many brushes with death. He'd had his fair share of scares, and was finally ready to tell a 'responsible' adult about them.
After rehearsing his prepared speech for the hundredth time, Dipper walked down into the basement, which was Ford's home base. He clutched the Journal inside of his vest, and hoped that Ford wouldn't be too mad at him for keeping it hidden. He breathed deeply as he walked down the hall, went down the elevator, and came to his uncle's private study.
Knocking on the door he prepared to face the worst. But when Ford opened the door Dipper was met with a quaint room, with little more than several tall screens on one side, and rows of bookshelves surrounding them. It seemed... exactly like a place Stanford Pines would feel comfortable in.
"Yes Dipper? How can I help you?" His great-uncle asked, snapping Dipper back into reality. Dipper shook his head a bit, pulling his thoughts together. "Hey Grunkle Ford..." Dipper said, reaching into his jacket as Ford watched him with somewhat confused, but understanding eyes. "I just wanted to ask you something..." Ford nodded, and his nephew pulled out the red book. "Did you write this Journal?"
Ford's eyes widened as he stared at the book Dipper presented him with. "How?" he breathed, reaching a hand out and half taking it from Dipper, while still letting the boy maintain a grip on it, "How did you find this book?" Dipper bit his lip, half-shocked at his Grunkle's odd expression. "Grunkle Stan sent me out in the woods to hang signs a few days ago... and one of the trees was made out of metal."
"Krazden." Ford hissed under his breath, and Dipper sent him a confused look. "The wiring must have malfunctioned... Or something came loose... I'll have to talk to Fiddleford about that..." Dipper tilted his head to one side as Ford took the Journal completely from him, and muttered to himself.
"Dipper, I'm going to tell you something about this book, something that you probably won't like hearing." Dipper nodded, and his uncle sighed before continuing. "The Author of this Journal was a self-centered, arrogant, narcissistic, loudmouthed jerk, with little to no respect or honor for anyone other than himself. And I'm sorry to say that that man... was me.
"I'm the Author of the Journals..."
Hi guys!
So... Merry late Christmas... and Hannakah, or whatever else you celebrate! I work in retail, so I have been quite busy these last couple of weeks... but my next couple of work schedules are looking rather sad...
Anyway all this to say, I've finished up this chapter for you guys! It's basically the opposite of chapter 75. And yes there's a fountain of Youth! Why wouldn't there be!?
Uh... I don't know what else to put here... so have a happy rest of 2020!
-BrilliantLight
