The next day Fiddleford still wasn't up for talking, so he was left in peace by the others except for Baldwin or Syl or one of the others occasionally checking to see if he needed anything.
He wished he could take more of the sleeping potion, so he could lose himself in the dreamless sleep it created. Unfortunately, Jheselbraum seemed to sense that he wanted it, and hadn't offered him anymore when he woke up; just given him breakfast before leaving him be.
Probably tryna keep me from substitutin' one addiction for another, he thought sourly to himself as he adjusted the bed so he could sit up.
Since he felt too wide awake to go back to sleep, he did the only thing that was left to him, and snatched the book off the side table, setting it in his lap.
It was heavier than he'd expected, but he just settled it as best he could and got started reading.
It turned out, over the next few days, to be a detailed history of Bill Cipher and his minions (commonly referred to as "henchmaniacs"): theories about their origins, stories about where they'd come from, wanted posters detailing what kind of catastrophes they'd been responsible for, what civilizations they'd destroyed and for what petty reasons, the type of tricks they could and would use on others to gain their trust-the part about possession was especially frightening, he'd known there was something off about Stanford once or twice when his eyes didn't look quite right!
It was like the world's most depressing scrapbook.
Despite that, Fiddleford dedicated himself to reading it with the same fervor he usually reserved for technical journals, instruction manuals or Isaac Asimov novels.
He also learned about some (since it was nigh impossible to describe all of them in one book, due to the infinite number of variations and combinations thereof) of the different parts of the Multiverse, and how most of them were just parallels of his own dimension where a few decisions had been made differently, leading to changes (some dramatic, some just marginal enough to be barely noticeable) in the timeline(s). And there was nothing Bill wouldn't do, no line he wouldn't cross, if it meant a chance to get into one of them and make it his own personal playground.
It was exactly the kind of science fiction weirdness-complete with an epic villain jeopardizing the fate of the world-he had always loved reading about or watching on television even after he was no longer a kid, and occasionally fantasized about being a part of.
Somewhere, Fiddleford could tell that the cruel voice of irony was laughing at him now.
"Did you write this?" he asked Jheselbraum the next time she came to check on him and her other patients.
"Mostly. Some of it was information that was gathered by my ancestors, or by visitors to my home." She unwound his bandages, and let out a small sigh at how thick his hair had become. "I think we can leave these off now. And if you want to get up and walk around at some point, you can, as long as you're careful and don't try running around just yet. And be careful, your scalp is still going to be tender for quite some time."
Fiddleford gave a nod of acquiescence, and went back to reading.
The general thesis of what he read was pretty straightforward: Bill Cipher was a dangerous monster who would break into another dimension and lay it to waste at the first chance he got, and was never to be trusted, and didn't care who he hurt to get what he wanted, so it was safest never to give him an opportunity.
...Which meant, if and when Stanford had figured out what his 'friend' was like, and knowing what he was like...that he would probably destroy the portal. Or at the very least shut it down, never to turn it on again. As dumb as he was, he was also smart enough that he might have figured out the truth by now, so it was probably already done.
The very thought caused a deep, tearing ache to rise up in Fiddleford's heart; as mad as he was at Stanford, he was still his friend, and he didn't think he would ever have been able to leave him in the portal if their roles had been reversed, no matter what kind of dangerous consequences he might or might not know about.
...But it was the logical choice, wasn't it? And while Ford wasn't half as logical of a person as he thought he was, he was the kind of man who would think that the safety of the whole world was far more important than just Fiddleford's safety. And there was nothing wrong with that, since it was the truth, right? Opening the portal again, especially now that Fiddleford was so far away from it with no hope of getting back, would give Bill that chance he needed to get in and turn the world into his own cosmic plaything. As long as that didn't happen, Fiddleford's wife, and son, and his family back in Tennessee and those who'd moved to other parts of the States-they'd all be safe. Not to mention everyone else in the world who wasn't even a part of this whole mess.
It was clearly the right decision to make.
And it would be a noble sacrifice on Fiddleford's part, not to hope for Ford to try opening the portal again or even go near the Nightmare Realm again; the strong, logical choice to make. Wanting anything else would be the epitome of selfishness.
He could handle spending the rest of his life here in the multiverse.
Really.
No big deal.
"...I want to go home."
He hadn't meant to say it; it just came out in a hoarse, miserable whisper when Jheselbraum came to check on him that evening and finally offer the sleeping potion. She paused, with the cup still in her outstretched hand. The others looked over at him, then Baldwin came to his bedside.
Fiddleford stared down at the blankets, clenching his hands around them.
"I know I shouldn't-it's wrong ta want that, when it could give him a way in-but I do." His mouth wobbled pitifully. "I don't wanna risk the safety o' the world, but-"
A hand on his shoulder startled him into silence.
"I don't think it's wrong," Baldwin's voice assured him. "It's perfectly reasonable to want to go home."
Fiddleford managed to smile at him for a moment, before looking back down again.
"...That's awful kind of you ta say, but...I dunno how I can, with things the way they are. According ta what I read in here-" he gestured to the book- "it's only a mite short o' impossible, even without worryin' about Cipher." The thought made his shoulders droop even more miserably.
Another hand gently lifted his chin.
Jheselbraum gave him a soft, sympathetic smile before peering into his eyes, as her own once again started to glow with violet light.
He didn't see any images in them this time; instead, after a moment, the oracle said in a faraway voice, "Seek Six Sides."
"...Beg yer pardon?"
Jheselbraum blinked, and the light slowly faded away. "Seek Six Sides, and you will go home."
Fiddleford tilted his head as she released him. "Who or what is Six Sides?"
"I cannot tell you."
"...Because you don't know, or are you not gonna tell me as part o' some grand, character-building 'if ya know too much it'll lessen the value of the journey' quest hokum?"
Next to him, Baldwin let out a snort that sounded like equal parts shock, horror and amusement.
"One of those options," she answered far too cheerfully. Behind her, Fiddleford saw Syl roll her eyes and mutter something that sounded suspiciously like, "Typical."
Jheselbraum checked on the rest of her patients, and then headed for the door. "You have all recovered as well as can be expected. Feel free to leave whenever you're ready, and thank you for not blowing up any parts of my temple during your stay this time."
Fiddleford looked at the rest of the crew once the oracle had left. "Any of you heard of Six Sides?"
Various heads shook.
"Sorry, squints."
"Heard of someone called Six Noses, and someone else called Far Sights, but I don't think either of those are it."
Eh, well, it was worth a shot. He tried not to look too disappointed, since it obviously wasn't their fault.
Baldwin squeezed his shoulder again. "We'll help you figure it out. I promise."
"Thanks."
In the morning, they would find that the oracle had vanished, and a pile of supplies lying in the main room by the fountain. According to Syl, Jheselbraum did that sometimes, so this was nothing new. Fiddleford would also find a new set of clothes set out for him, along with what would turn out to be a very interesting hat, and (even better) a banjo-something he hadn't realized that he desperately missed, and therefore proceeded to spend five minutes just tuning and strumming it until he realized the others were packing, and stopped to help out.
And then they'd plug a new set of coordinates into the guidance system, and set off.
END OF BOOK 1
Author's Disclaimer: Six Sights is based on an idea by my illustrious AO3 colleague darylstorey, which in turn was inspired by an idea by fellow AO3 writer WDW.
How's that for meta?