A few minutes after Stan relaxed into sleep, Ford felt a familiar sense of anxiety making its way down the hall. When it reached the door, it opened a crack and Dipper peered inside.

"Great Uncle Ford? How-how's he doing?"

Ford quickly got up and made his way to the door. "His condition is unchanged, but at least he's resting now. Come on, let's not wake him up."

He put a hand on Dipper's shoulder as he led him back into the hallway.

"How bad is it?" Dipper asked, looking up at him.

Ford sighed. "He has a fever, and is having trouble keeping food down." And he's not entirely lucid, since he doesn't believe I'm really the one taking care of him, but that might have been the case even if he wasn't feverish. "But those aren't too unusual symptoms in terms of illness. For now we should just try to keep him hydrated and make sure he sleeps as much as he can, and see how he's feeling tomorrow."

Dipper pulled a pen out of his vest and began absentmindedly chewing it. "It's-not gonna get worse, right? He's not gonna wanna spend money on a doctor."

"If he doesn't improve and I'm unable to create an adequate cure on my own, it won't be up to him."

To his surprise, this response made the boy let out a small sigh of relief. "Oh good. He's...not very good at taking care of himself. He wouldn't even go to the doctor after we accidentally burned his eyes trying to get him to see a rainbow."

Ford...wasn't sure that he'd heard that correctly. "I beg your pardon?"

At once Dipper became very interested in his shoes, and Ford felt second hand the boy's stomach twisting with embarrassment. "...It was Mabel's idea. She was asking everyone what their favorite color was, and Grunkle Stan told her that he doesn't like colors, and when she asked if that included rainbows he said he'd never seen one, so we set up this system that involved reflecting light from a prism into his office to get him to see one. It...kind of backfired and resulted in his eyes being sensitive to light for a few days."

"Hey, look Sixer-a rainbow! C'mon, let's go find the end of it so we can get a pot of gold!"

"I dunno, Stanley, there might not be an end for us to find. They're created by sunlight scattering via water droplets and making white light split into colors, they don't actually have a solid form. I think that might just be a thing in Ireland."

"If we get to it, there might be a leprechaun you can study…"

"Let me get my notebook and the butterfly net."

"...I see," Ford said faintly. His stomach was clenching again, but this time it had nothing to do with Dipper's emotions.

When they went back downstairs, he was greeted by the sight of Mabel sitting on the counter in the gift shop, wearing Stan's fez and bossing Soos and Wendy around.

"Time is money, people! Get that floor clean-I want it spotless, you got that, Soos?!"

"Yes, boss!" Soos saluted before going back to mopping, completely unfazed at being given orders by a child.

Mabel dropped the grumpy act for a moment to beam at him. "Thank you, valued employee!" Then she whipped her head around to glare at Wendy. "I'm watching you, slacker! No sneaking off till the work is done!"

Wendy gave a long-suffering sigh. "Geez, you're even more bossy than Stan now."

"I'm just making sure I don't repeat old mistakes!" Mabel lifted her hand and did an "I'm watching you" gesture.

Dipper glanced up at Ford. "She made a bet with Stan a couple months ago and had to run the Shack for three days, so she knows about making sure they stay on task."

Ford was slightly perturbed that Stan had thought it was a good idea to leave a child in charge of his semi-professional business...until a voice in the back of his head coughed and said, "Yeah, it's not like he gave her a crossbow or anything."

"We also have some notes for you about how to give tours!" Mabel chirped, pulling a notepad out of her sweater.

Dipper made a startled noise. "W-we?"

"Yeah, you were the one in charge of those last time, so I thought you might wanna tell him your thoughts about how he did today!" She bounced a little in place before looking at her brother expectantly. Ford pushed through the ever-present enthusiasm that surrounded her like a cotton candy cloud; he could pick up a few traces of mischief, and some amusement at the flustered expression on his face, but there didn't seem to be any actual malice based around her pushing him. Nevertheless the amount of horror emanating from Dipper at the idea (was he really that shy about offering Ford advice?) was enough for him to say, "You don't have to if you're not comfortable."

Dipper looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. "Um-"

Ford knelt and squeezed his shoulder. "However, I would welcome any input you might be willing to give me."

The embarrassment was still strong...but a small undercurrent of surprise and delight rose through it as Dipper met his eyes. "Um-okay."

"Before that, though, you guys should probably get something to eat," Wendy pointed out. "It's almost five."

Oh. Right. Children need regular meals. ...Oh dear, they're not going to expect me to cook, are they?

Apparently Mabel had the same concern; she looked up from her list. "...Think we should just order pizza?" she asked.

"You don't have to, dudes!" Soos said cheerfully. "Abuelita says she's gonna bring over something for you!"

"...The fact that she knew to do that is both awesome and somewhat creepy," Dipper said.

"I called her this morning and told her Mr. Pines wasn't feeling too good, and she said it wasn't any trouble." He beamed.

Sure enough, a petite Hispanic lady showed up sometime later, carrying a large crockpot.

"Hola, Other Mr. Pines," she said when she saw him, completely unperturbed by his presence in the kitchen. "It is so nice to finally meet Mr. Pines's brother."

"Um-I was not aware that Soos had told you about me." He had, in fact, considered either hiding in the basement or pretending to be Stan, but had not had time to do either before her arrival.

"He didn't, I read about it in his diary. There are no secrets in our family."

And apparently no privacy either.

But Ford just took the crockpot and put it on the counter. "...This is...very generous of you, Ms..." What is Soos's last name? Is she his maternal or paternal grandmother? Maybe I should have asked about that earlier-

"De nada. It is the least I can do for Mr. Pines." And she went to collect her grandson.

The crockpot contained a thick, slightly spicy combination of meat, bell peppers, onions and rice; Ford ladled out some of it for the children and then himself, and for a few minutes he was lost in a surprising amount of enjoyment in how good it tasted.

While he was in the multiverse, he had often lived on nutrient pills that provided the equivalent of a square meal, albeit not a very flavorful one. He'd forgotten what an enjoyable experience the sensation of taste made to a meal, which was part of the reason why he'd bothered joining his family for dinner in the evenings (another part being because he was lonely, and yet another part to spite Stan's demand that he stay away from the children in any way he could). Now, as he savored the sensations of rich, chewy meat and crisp vegetables on his tongue, he was reminded again of what he'd been missing.

At last, though, Ford looked at the children, who were enjoying the meal as much as he was, and asked, "So, Dipper-what were your thoughts on how I could improve my tour guide skills?"

Dipper was a little less flustered this time-Ford got the impression that having some food in his stomach had mellowed him out. He still hesitated before saying, "Well, it-it might help if you spent a little less time trying to explain everything you're showing them."

"I know you want them to understand what kind of stuff they're looking at," he added hurriedly before Ford could open his mouth, "but it just kind of-um, sometimes...maybe pay attention to what they're actually interested in, cuz if you try to force their attention to something they don't care about you're gonna lose 'em. That was part of what I learned with the gremloblin."

"Hmmm." Ford pulled out his journal and made a note of that, next to 'put force field around monkey's paw' and 'people of the same gender can be married now.'

"Also, it probably wouldn't hurt if you smiled more!" Mabel demonstrated by grinning until she looked like a particularly adorable jack o'lantern. "It makes you look friendlier!"

Ugh, didn't that bring up memories of Ma saying things like "Stand up straight and smile, Stanford, honey-people are gonna think you're unfriendly." He scribbled it down anyway.

The children put out more suggestions-things like "make sure people in the back can hear you" and "let them know if you're enthusiastic about something"-and then when dinner ended, Dipper suggested they watch another movie.

It seemed like a good way to unwind, so Ford agreed to it-but first, after the dishes were put away, he decided to go check on Stan again.

He was still in bed, but at some point his covers had gotten all twisted around and were halfway falling onto the floor.

Ford fixed the covers, and then checked his forehead; it was still warm to the touch, but at least it didn't seem to have risen in temperature. He took the washcloth and the glass (now nearly empty), and took them to get refilled.

When he came back, Stan was thrashing and twisting, and one arm had been squirmed free of the blanket to flap weakly at the air, almost like he was pushing at something.

"N-no! No! I'm sorry!" Stan mumbled; as he did his hand opened, like he was trying to reach for something. Through the haze of fever Ford could pick up on the distress that was permeating his dreams.

It didn't take a genius, even a particularly oblivious genius, to figure out what was going on in his head.

Ford set aside the things in his hands, and without considering the idea first he reached out and grabbed the grasping hand.

Stan's eyebrows rose in shock-quickly adjusting into confusion, even as his hand latched onto Ford's with more strength than he was expecting.

"Ssh, it's all right." Ford knelt down next to him, using his other hand to replace the washcloth on his forehead. "I'm right here. You got me."

Stan's eyes flickered, but after a moment he relaxed into deeper sleep, and his hand went limp.

Even so, Ford waited until he started snoring before going back downstairs.