Summer 1991

"My greatest achievement… I should've worn pants."

Stan was standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom still in his evening attire. It consisted of his tank top and boxer, both mostly clean. A huge envelope was in his hands, which were shaking. An envelope with the school's seal on it and his name. Well, his brother's name but that letter was definitely for him, since Ford didn't receive anything anymore. He took a shuddering breath and walked to his bed. He sat heavily on it and passed a hand over his face, dislodging the half moon glasses he was now wearing on a regular basis.

Eight years… It took me eight years to obtain one miserable… Ford got his in only four…

He sighed. Dwelling on the past won't change a thing. He had needed all that time and had managed to make it through. Ford had kept repeating, in his own way, how proud he was of what he was doing. Stan was doing the work, Stanford just had to wait for once.

It hadn't been easy. Balancing his work at the lumber mill and school was hard at first. The Corduroys had been understanding and allowed him to work part time for them, they were really nice people. And Stan had done it.

He had managed to obtain a PhD in biophysics.

In the envelope was undoubtedly his diploma with a letter congratulating him on his accomplishment.

What an accomplishment… Rode on my brother's reputation and name to get a free scholarship and get this piece of paper. Stanford's still the one with the prestigious academic background… And I'm still riding on his coattail… literally nowadays.

He chuckled darkly.

Despite his dark thoughts, he couldn't deny the truth. He was a certified biophysician. Under the name Stanford Pines but the knowledge was his. After Stanford caught him, he had shared his findings and homework with him. His twin had been impressed and happy to hear all the academic achievements Stan had made over the years.

I never thought I'd be having scientific discussions, in which I understood what was being said, with Ford.

He chuckled, opened his eyes and looked at the enveloppe. He hadn't opened it yet.

He didn't know why. Maybe part of him couldn't believe it. It was too early for this.

Stan glanced at the old clock on the wall across from him. It read seven thirty. Even from the second floor he could hear Ford's peaceful snores coming into his room. He frowned.

Stanford used to be, huh, quite the early bird between the two of us. Now I'm the one waking up early.

Over the years, he noticed that on some mornings Ford would wake up late. Granted they were sometimes staying up late the night prior but his twin had always been an early bird. Heh. But recently, Stan was the first one up and ready for the day. His twin would wake up an hour or two after him. He rested a hand on his chin and thought about that.

Owls are usually nocturnal animals, so it could be his metabolism finally catching up to him. Demanding him to sleep during the day and stay up at night. Might have to keep an eye on that…

Before he spiraled any further, someone knocked on the door, startling Stan. He placed a hand over his chest and turned around, his heart beating hard in his rib cage. The knock persisted. He frowned.

Who is coming here on a Saturday morning?

He exited his room and walked back downstairs, leaving the envelope on his bed and putting on a small pair of light blue slippers. As he walked around the staircase, he saw his twin in his room curled up in the middle where the sun was shining through the window. The pillows and blankets were placed in a circle around him. Stan raised an eyebrow.

Did he tried ta build a nest?

The knocking kept going on and he left his twin alone for the time being. Before heading for the door, he closed Ford's to leave him in peace but left a crack in case he wanted to get out. No point in wrecking another perfectly functioning door.

Whoever was on the other side kept knocking. The pacing accelerated.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Stan yelled before opening the door. "Gee, not everyone is an early bird ya know, I could've been…"

"Stanley..?"

He froze with his hand clutching the doorknob. His breathing became faster. He wanted to close the door and go hide in his room but his body refused to listen to him. It refused to move.

"Is that really you?"

His throat tightened. He tried to swallow but his mouth suddenly ran dry. He cleared it.

"Ma…?" he managed to choke out before his throat closed up completely. There was a lump or something stuck in it and he couldn't make it go away, no matter how hard he tried.

Standing before him was his mother.

Here she was, on his porch, wearing her old red dress with high heels. Her purse hung under her left shoulder. She had long silver strikes in her hair and a few more crows feet under her eyes but in Stan's eyes she was as beautiful as the last time he saw her. He could feel moisture forming in the corner of his eyes.

She raised a hand slowly to his cheek… And slapped him across the face.

Stan's head whipped to the side and sent him toppling to the ground. He used his elbows to prep himself and looked up, his glasses askew on his nose. Stan stared at Caryn in disbelief. He couldn't believe she was here. He could feel his cheek becoming warmer by the seconds. He might need ice later. Right now, it wasn't what was on his mind. His eyes were fixated on his mother now towering over him.

"What's the meaning of this! I thought ya died in a car accident ten years ago!" Tears were streaming down her face. "Stan… Stanford said he wouldn't come to the funeral… He said… He said he didn't wanna waste time for yo - …" She cupped her hand over her mouth, a horrified look on her features. "Oh gosh! Was it you saying those horrible things about yerself!"

Her shoulders trembled. She hugged herself and tried to get her breathing under control. Stan slowly rose up to his feet.

"Why would ya say those things! Where is yer brother! I need a word with him! And ya need ta explain yerself as well mister!" She cried with a hint of anger in her voice. "I… I grieve fer you Stanley! I wept and cried and… and all this time ya were still alive!"

Stan walked closer to her, his mouth slacked.

"Well? What da ya have ta say?" She frowned and looked him in the eyes. "Say something Stanley!"

Stan's vision became blurry but he didn't bother. He hugged his mother tightly in his arms and whispered. "I've missed ya too."

She returned the hug.

After embracing her tightly, motioning her inside and settling her in the living room, he walked up the stairs to his bedroom. He rummaged through Ford's - His wardrobe to put on some decent clothes. He picked a light blue shirt with a brown over shirt and some tan pants. Feeling as if he wasn't even there. As if he was witnessing everything from far away.

Ma is here…

After dressing up he looked at himself in the mirror. After ten years of having a steady job, steady meals and all in all a comfortable life, he didn't recognize himself anymore.

He took a shuddering breath.

He looked like his twin. Or rather what his twin would have looked like if he was still human.

His hair was short just as when they were kids. His nose was still impressive. He shaved regularly and had better hygiene than when he lived in his car. You could barely see the scars on his back, they were now the remnant of a darker time, a darker past.

There were only a few differences. A few alterations that made him… him. Namely, he didn't have a cleft chin or a sixth finger on each hand. Plus, his shoulders were still broader and he still had a small guts. But with the clothes he was wearing, his brother's clothes, it was hard to see. Even the half-moon glasses were selling it.

At that moment, he could believe Stanley Pines was dead.

"Stanley..?" He heard Ma call from downstairs. She sounded worried.

"I'm coming!" He answered hastily and finished dressing up before running downstairs to his mother. She was in the living room and hadn't noticed Ford's room.

They sat in the living room, Ma on the only sofa, an old yellow armchair Stan had found on the side of the road, and Stan in a wooden chair he dragged from the kitchen. He had moved Ford's enormous bean bags into one corner. A heavy silence weighing over them. Stan had made her a cup of tea that she just held in her hands. Barely touching it.

Caryn explained she had been visiting Shermie over the weekend and thought she owed her other son, who she believed to be the only one still alive, a surprise visit for not giving any sort of news. Filbrick wasn't aware of this improvised visit, which was a small relief for Stan. She had taken the bus from Piedmont to Gravity Falls and a local lumberjack had offered to drive her from the bus stop to his house. Where she was now.

She was slowly sipping her tea. She might have looked calm, but Stan could see how fast she was tapping her foot against the floor. He hung his head between his shoulders, his elbows resting on his knees and fidgeted with his fingers. He was avoiding her gaze.

She took a long breath and rested her cup on the coffee table, aka the t-rex skull. "So ya wanna explain ta me what's going on?"

He chuckled. He felt like a kid again, having to explain to his mother why her favorite flower pot was broken, not an adult. How silly. He passed his right hand in his hair and rubbed the back of his neck.

"It's… It's a long story." He said.

"I got time. Start from the beginning." She took out her pack of cigarettes and lit one up. She inhaled a long breath and let it out through her nose.

Stan closed his eyes and gulped.

Should I really tell her the truth? The whole truth?

He received a kick to his knees. He opened his eyes to see her glare at him.

"Don't try ta weasel yer way outta this. The truth, Stanley. I, at the very least, deserve it." She had a sad smile on her lips. She looked tired.

Stan owed her… some truth. He lowered his head.

"When I came to Ford's house, ten years ago, it-it was all broken down. Something terrible happened to him and… and I've been helping him ever since." He avoided her gaze and focused on the wood planks under his feet. He noticed some faint scratch marks, probably made by Ford's claw, and became suddenly entranced by them.

He heard her sighed and inhaled a puff of smoke. "And did ya have ta fake yer own death?" She asked tiredly.

"Ford can't take care of-of anything and me disappearing just made things easier… It's the best solution we could think of." He cringed at how it sounded.

"So Ford was in on this. Is he here?" There was hope in her voice.

Stan winced. "Yes." He whispered.

There was a beat before she said quietly. "I can't see him, can't I?"

He met her stare. There was some moisture in the corner of her eyes and her lips were trembling. He too was starting to become watery again.

He sniffed. "I don't think that's a good idea…"

Ma rubbed her eyes with her free hand and inhaled another puff. She took a shuddering breath. "I know ya ain't telling me everything… but if it's all yer gonna say… I won't push ya more."

Stan felt relief wash over him. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell her that her son was now covered in feathers and couldn't talk unless he used picture cards or scrabble tiles. He smiled and wiped his face with his right hand, taking his glasses off in the process. "Thanks ma. I-I promise ta call ya more."

She nodded and stared at Stan's hand for a moment before her eyes opened in shock.

"Stanley, what happened to yer hand?"

Stan blinked and lowered it in front of his face. The scars, damn. He sighed and unbuttoned his sleeve to raise it up to his elbow and presented her his arms. She gasped and placed a hand over her mouth.

"Happened soon after I got here… Got into an accident with some birds and electricity." He explained while setting his glasses back on his nose.

Ma stood up and sat on the floor next to him. She passed a hand over the many red scars that covered his arm, tracing them with her fingers. She held his hand into her own and squeezed gently.

"Oh my little free spirit…"

He looked away. "It was just an accident. Nothing ta worry about." He chuckled and covered his arm with his sleeve again. "I got better as ya can see. Nothing I couldn't walk off." He shot her his best seller smile but it did nothing to elevated her mood. His smile faded quickly.

Ma patted his arm and looked him in the eyes. "Stanley, I am your mother. It's my job ta worry about you boys. Don't make me worry more than I have too."

"I promise Ma." Stan rested his hand over hers.

"I hope y'a don't have another bombshell ta throw at me." She said as she watched him with the eyes of a hawk.

Stan rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, as of today, I am a biophysicist." He said sheepishly. "It's under Stanford's name, but yeah… I finished school."

She hugged him tightly. After he realized what she was doing, he quickly returned her hug and burrowed his head into her neck.

"I am so proud of ya. And I'm sure your brother is too." she whispered.

Stan nodded. Unbeknown to his mother, he raised his head ever so slightly and glanced toward Ford's room. He hadn't peeked out, maybe he was still snoozing.

I swear Sixer, I'll work day and night ta find a way ta turn ya.

He promised with a determined look on his face.

Him and his mother kept talking for an hour before she took her leave. They both promised to keep in touch. He also promised her that he will make things right with Stanford so that the next time she will get to see him in person.

As soon as she was gone, Stan went down to the basement and got to work. He wasn't gonna waste anymore time. He will find a way to save his brother.

He sat at the desk Ford and he had installed and pulled out some of his notebooks. He had an idea of what he needed to do from now on but he had to make sure it was feasible.

A few hours later, he heard some gravel rolling down behind him from Ford's tunnel. He looked back to see his brother coming down with a large branch in his beak. Stan sighed.

There was no point in denying it, being stuck as a griffin for nearly ten years had an effect on his twin's psyche. The fact that he was barely using his cards and tiles for communicating was alarming enough but he had now started to build nests.

He turned in his chair and observed as Ford tried to look for the best spot to rest his branch. He paced the room a couple of times before picking a spot at equal distance between Stan and the tunnel. Satisfied, he chirped and went back outside, most likely to pick another one.

It's gonna be one of those days…

Stan sniffed and turned back on his desk, he tried to ignore the lump that had formed in his throat and went to work. Ford kept coming in and out with branches as he worked.

He didn't understand. With everything he had learned, why couldn't he find a solution. It was like it was right there at the tip of his fingertips. He had even shucked a mass spectrometer from his school down the basement. A useful tool to process the DNA sample of his brother.

He had run tests with his brother's DNA and his own. Since they were twins, he thought he could use his own as a base but there were too many differences between them. The sixth finger and cleft chin were one of them, and their eye prescription was different. If he were to use his own DNA he would be making a clone of himself. He didn't want a copy of himself, he wanted his brother!

He had in front of him both sequences. One was when Ford was human, he was glad he had held on to his twin's hair brush when he had first arrived. Those few hairs stuck to it were precious. The second sequence was the one he currently had as a griffin. Stan had quickly noticed differences between the two but strangely some information was common to both his forms.

Like the colour of his eyes, his blood type and the colours the feathers on his head should be.

He banged his head on the desk and let it rest there for a moment, groaning in frustration.

What am I missing? I've got everything here!

Then it hit him. It hit him like a brick to the face.

"Nothing is gained, nothing is lost, everything changes! '' Stan rose to his feet and started to pace up and down the lab in front of Stanford. "That's how ya got turned! That's what happened to ya! It got rewritten with the feather ya were analysing! That's why all the tests I made up until now didn't work. I was looking at something that isn't there anymore! You are no longer human and so is your DNA. If I want ta turn ya back, I need to rewrite your entire DNA sequence into that of a human being, with all the right molecules and cells and the whole shebangs!" He smiled at his twin.

The griffin tilted his head on one side, his dilated eyes looking very confused. Stan walked up to his workstation and searched through his papers.

"I've heard of a project a few years back. It's called the… the Human genome. Genome human Project… whatever. They are trying to create the complete DNA sequence of a human being based on our twenty tree pair of chromosomes." When he found the paper he was looking for, he turned and looked at his twin. "It's still in early stages but as soon as this thing is complete, I'll just have to create a device that'll change your current DNA into that. I don't know how long it'll take ta do both but it's the best idea I have. Once this is done, I'll just have to apply the sequence to your DNA, the one we still have with your old hair brush! I'm gonna Fly the hell out of your DNA!"

Stan was panting from the epiphany he just had. A huge smile plastered on his face as all the formulas and schematics were running through his head. He was excited. He had found a solution and knew how to save his brother.

The griffin just stood there, a few paces away from him in his half built nest. His eyes were still dilated and he gave Stan a confused look before chirping happily to him. Closing his eyes and tugging the corner of his beak upward as best as he could.

Stan's shoulders dropped and his arms fell to his sides.

"It's funny…" He chuckled darkly. "Years ago, you were the one with all the latest discoveries and scientific knowledge… Now I'm the one lecturing you about them while you lay on your bed and listen to me…" His throat tightened with that last sentence.

All of a sudden, his legs couldn't carry him anymore. He dropped to the hard cement floor. The paper in his hand forgotten as he raised them to cover his eyes, dislodging his glasses in the process.

"It shouldn't be like that…" He whimpered. "I shouldn't be the one to tell you those things… I'm supposed to be the screw up!"

He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands over his eyes.

This isn't right! Things aren't supposed ta be this way!

He heard some shuffling and a shadow loomed above him. He raised his head to see his twin towering over him, his eyes still dilated. His ears were drooping and he was inspecting Stan worriedly. He lowered his head so that both of their foreheads were touching. He cooed softly.

Stan sighed and patted the side of Stanford's head. He sniffed and rubbed the moisture that may or may not have been accumulating in the corner of his eyes.

Ford circled him, rested his head on his legs and started to purr softly to comfort him. Encircled by the mountain of feathers, Stan felt better. He leaned into his brother's side and closed his eyes.

"This will take a few years, I might have to contact someone ta help with the machine and logistics. I'm sorry, you're gonna be stuck as a griffin for some more time. At least now, we have a plan, don't we bud?" He said as he patted his twin.

"Hoo Ooo!" Ford said.

Stan sighed and stayed still for a while. What a morning. He never would have expected his mother to come for a surprise visit. It still had been good to see her and talk to her, after twenty years.

Once he felt better, Stan stood back on his feet. His knees were killing him, he should be careful from now on. He wasn't as young as he used to be. He stretched his arms and looked behind him.

Ford had a sad frown on his owlish feature. He wanted Stan to stay close to him for a little longer no doubt. His paws knitting the ground and whines coming from his throat. He had become a bit clingy over the past years. The biophysicist didn't mind that much but he still had things to do.

"I'm gonna go run some errands in town. I'll be back before you finish your nest." Stan cheered with his best seller smile. He hasn't used one in years, he wonders if he still had it.

"Roo…" Ford coed and rested his head on his paws.

Still got it.

Stan grinned internally and exited the basement.

*sketch provided by LemonFoDrizzleArt on Tumblr

The name kept coming here and there in some of Ford's old college notes.

Fiddleford McGucket.

Apparently, the guy went to college with his brother and they had been roommates. According to the notes he was a brilliant mechanic, something that's definitely useful in what Stan was about to tackle.

So one morning, Stan took a deep breath, dialed the number and waited for someone to pick it up.

As the phone rang, Stan cleared his throat until it wasn't his voice coming out of his mouth. He hoped it was to the level of deepness his twin's voice would have had.

He glanced behind him to see his brother poking his head out of his room. Sleep was clearly present in his features but his eyes were clear and focused. He had wanted to be with his twin when he had decided to make that phone call. He yawned and rested his head on the floor, closing his eyes. His ears alert and ready to listen to every word Stan was about to say.

At last , someone picked up the phone on the other end.

"Fiddleford Computermajigs" A voice answered with a thick southern accent.

Stan took a breath and, even if the men on the other side of the line couldn't see, put on his best seller smile.

"Fiddleford! It's me, Stanford Pines, I have a favour to ask." He said with his best Ford voice.

A few days later, a yellow Volkswagen beetle parked outside his home and a tall scrawny man got out with a small bag hanging on his hips. Stan was standing on the porch waiting for him, his arms crossed over his chest and a bright smile on his face.

The men glanced worriedly at the trees, the house and the giant hole in the ground a few paces away before his eyes landed. A crooked sort of smile crossed his face and he pointed to the hole as he walked up to the house.

"Problems with some critters?" He asked with a wobbly voice.

"Nah. It's been dealt with. Don't worry about it." Stan answered with his best Ford impression as he walked down the stairs to greet the men halfway. He extended his right hand. "It's good to see you, Fiddleford old friend."

"Same to you Stanford." The scrawny man took his hand and examined it for a moment. He frowned. "Stanford… What happened to yer hand?"

Stan just shrugged his shoulders. He had played this type of conversation over and over in his head. "Had an accident with some birds and electricity. Busted my hands pretty badly." He said while readjusting his sleeves to reveal the scars. The scrawny man shuddered at the sight. "Figured I'd get rid of the damaged finger and just do the other one to balance everything. People asked less questions that way."

Fiddleford scrunched his face at the statement. "It's a shame, ya were pretty proud of yer hands, I reckon."

"Yeah, well it would've been even weirder if I had five fingers on one hand and six on the other." Stan shot back. "Now come on in! We have much to discuss."

And they discussed.

Stan explained to this man his project to convert one strand of DNA into another. Changing it's nature completely. It was a long shot, since he was lacking some information but he needed the mechanic's help to build the machine in the meantime.

After stating his case, Stan sat at the kitchen table and waited for an answer.

Fiddleford frowned. "That is something alright."He looked Stan into the eyes through his small round glasses. "What made ya so interested in DNA all of a sudden?"

Stan shrugged. "You should see half of the, hum, anomalies that live around here. They have magic embedded in them. I'm just looking for a way to analyse the component on something more plausible." He explained and hoped it would satisfy the mechanic.

The scrawny men eyed him.

"That doesn't sound like ya. Ya were already eccentric during college but this. Are ya aiming ta be called a mad scientist fo' real this time?"

"I had worst name growing up." That last part didn't soothe Fiddleford. "Look, that's what I'm working on at the moment and I can't do it on my own. Can you help or not? "

Fiddleford frowned and dug into his bag to retrieve some pen and papers. He set them on the table and started to work on some blue prints. Stan smiled and went to the cupboard to get some coffee brewing.

If this works, I'll be one step closer to saving Ford.

They went for a few hours. Exchanging notes and comments about how the device should work. Stan never thought in all his years he would have this conversation with someone other than Stanford. He smiled but it quickly vanished as he thought of something.

According to Ford's note, Fiddleford was a married man living in Palo Alto in a small suburban area. The men had most likely settled there to form a family and settle down. Yet, Stan couldn't see any ring on his hand. He cleared his throat.

"So Fiddleford, you came here pretty quickly. Everything okay back home? I didn't pull you away from your family did I?"

Fiddleford bristled for a moment before answering slowly. "Hum… No, not really. Things haven't been easy at home lately. Emma-May and I aren't really… I've created a sort of personal computer device and… it hasn't caught up as much as I'd hoped and… Things are tense back home." He took a deep breath before continuing. "There's been talk about divorce here and there. Your call was almost a lifesaver at this point." He finished and looked Stan straight into the eyes.

The biophysicist felt self conscious at the honesty the man was displaying towards him. He felt he should have known more about this and that it was his twin who should have been the one here comforting the guy.

As it was, Stan had to deal with it and say something his brother might say in this situation. He cleared his throat and glanced away out the windows to realize it was getting dark outside.

"That's rough buddy… Listen if you need anything, I'll be more than happy to help." He finally met the men's eyes.

"Thank you Stanford." Fiddleford had a sad smile for a moment and whipped a wayward tear from his eye. He blinked a couple of times and took a shuddering breath. "Well would you look at the time! I better be going, I'll just come back tomorrow to finish those prints fer you."

"Oh you don't have to. I've got plenty of room to house you for the night."

"No, no it's alright, I don't wanna impose. I spotted a nice motel down the road and… this is a nice town far away from Palo Alto. It's… It's a nice change of scenery." He mumbled as he got up and grabbed his bag before walking back to the door.

Not wanting to be a bad host, Stan followed him outside and to his car. Both men said their goodbyes for the night and Fiddleford promised to come back to work on those blueprints the next day.

The biologist crossed his arms over his chest and watched the back lights of the car disappear behind the trees when he heard the sound of dirt being pushed around. He glanced toward the giant hole in the ground where his brother had poked his head out. His shoulders dropped in relief when he saw how focused his eyes were.

Ford extracted himself from the tunnel, shook his head and came sitting next to Stan. He followed his gaze toward the road where you could barely see the red lights bright between the trees.

"Hoo Ooo?" He asked with deep hoots.

"An old friend of yours. Fiddleford Mcgugget." Stan raised an eyebrow and side eyed his twin. "Ya remember him?"

All of the griffin's feathers stood on end for a moment and his tail started to wave behind him. His front paw shuffled in place and he started to nod enthusiastically. Stan chuckled.

"I called him up. I think he'll help us. He's a good guy. A bit twitchy and nervous but a good guy." Stan said.

"Rooo?" Ford hooted while tilting his head to the side.

Stan motioned for him to follow back inside. "I might be a biophysicist but I ain't a builder. According to your notes, this guy is quite the builder. So I thought we could use his help to build something along those lines." He explained with a bright smile while presenting to Ford one of the blueprints they had drawn in the afternoon.

The griffin studied the print Stan was holding up thoroughly. His eyes, or more precisely his head since the latter were locked in place in his skull, scanning every inch of it. As he kept examining the prints, a soft pur erupted from his chest but soon enough, the purrs took over and his twin was back to literally bristling with excitement.

He proceeded to check the prints and Stan alternatively for the next minute before tackling his brother with a bone crushing hug, taking his twin totally by surprise.

Laying on his back, being smothered by a giant pile of fur and feathers, Stan felt a low throbbing sensation at the back of his head where it had made contact with the wooden floor but it was quickly overshadowed by the amount of attention and snuggles he was getting from his brother. His brother's head was nuzzled against his chest as he kept making the weirdest noise he ever heard.

It wasn't quite a whine but it was definitely on the sad side of his twin's limited vocal abilities. Yet, those were mixed with excited little chippers and purrs. Stan just raised a hand and patted his brother's forehead to calm him down.

"Easy there Big Bird." He said as he finally registered what his brother's noises were.

He is grateful. Grateful all over again for what I am doing…

Stan sighed. He was doing all of this for Ford, but it wasn't out of obligation. His brother needed help and… Stan would do anything to see him whole again. Even sell his soul to the devil if it meant seeing him smile.

Stanford finally calmed down after he realized his brother wasn't moving anymore. He sat on his hind legs, tail carefully folded around him and his wings tucked behind. He gives Stan a sheepish owlish smile, his chest still rumbling with excitement.

Raising back to his feet, Stan dusted himself and shot him a side glance.

"You ain't out of the woods just yet Pointdexter… but, hopefully with this thing, it'll be an even bigger step forward." Stan said as he picked the blueprint back and soothed it's corners, the unexpected tackled damaging it slightly. "Still not sure where I'll find some of the pieces, but it shouldn't be that hard, right?"

He turned his head to see Stanford nodding happily but only for a short time. His eyes dilated almost immediately after and the griffin started to preen his ruffled feathers, ignoring Stan for the time being.

Stanley sat heavily on the nearest chair. That was the hardest part. Seeing his brother's brilliant mind disappear into one of a mindless… animal! He crossed his arms over the table and hid his head in them.

Everytime he thought he was taking a step forward, something would happen making him feel as if he was back to square one. He sniffed and his shoulders trembled. He felt something wet rolled down his cheeks and ignored it.

It's my fault he's like this! If I wasn't stupid! If it was the other way around HE would have solved it by now! I'm just the screw up. Have and always been…

As he mopped into his self loathing thoughts, Stan realized he must have fallen asleep at some point. He woke up in his room, awkwardly spread across his bed, his face squished against his pillow. He tried to roll on his side, only to realize he was back under a cocoon of feathers and fur.

He passed a hand over his face, noting the absence of his glasses in the process, and tried to recall the last thing he remembered. He didn't have to think long before everything came back and he sighed.

Stanford must have carried him to his room and curled around him for the night, trying to give him as much comfort as he could. In his position, Stan took it and burrowed deeper into his bed. There was no point in trying to move the giant pile of fluff around him, he had tried once.

He closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep. Tomorrow was another day and Ford's friend would be back to work on the blueprint for the new machine they had to build. Hopefully it would be a good step forward.

The next weeks flew by as Stan and Fiddleford went to work trying to figure out the logistic and wire works this device will require.

The engineer insisted on renting a room in town, which was perfect for Stan who didn't have to keep Ford in the basement during the day so as to not scare Fiddleford too much by his presence. In the back of his head, he knew he couldn't keep this going on for long, but he would take what he had.

So each day, the scrawny nerd would drive to the house in the early hours and he and Stan would get to work, taking barely any break to eat and rest.

Progress seemed to be made which means that the biophysicist was bound to some bad luck or news. As it always was with him.

It happened on a Friday night.

After working all day in the kitchen, finalizing the last details of what they had dubbed The DNA Converterinator, apparently it needed that last part in order to have it copyrighted and truly theirs. If this could work, in less then a year, Stanford would be back to normal. The boys decided to celebrate this first milestone with a good drink.

In the good host that he was, Stan guided Fiddleford to the back door, with the intention of being the designated driver for their little nightly escapade. He opened the back door and was about to step out, only to freeze in his steps making the scrawny engineer bumped into his back.

"Stanford, what's the mat- ..?" Fiddleford started but never finished as he followed Stan's gaze.

Standing in the middle of the clearing, checking over the old beetle car was Stanford, the real one, a paw raised as he inspected the foreign vehicule. He had come out of the basement earlier than he used to, which was unusual. He was down on all four, his tail wagging happily as he circled the car, purring and clapping his beak happily.

"Stan-Stanford I thought ya said ya-ya dealt with the-the critters." Fiddleford whispered with a trembling voice.

He just nodded, not taking his eyes off his brother. What should he do? What can he say?

"Then wha-what is that thing near my-my car?" The engineer hissed through clenched teeth.

Stan didn't know what happened at that moment. What possessed him to turn and sock Fiddleford on the cheek.

The engineer hadn't even meant it as an insult, he just didn't know better.

Still, he would never stand still whenever someone insulted his brother. It was embedded in him. Sharks gotta swim and Stan defends his brother from anyone for as long as he would draw a breath.

Fiddleford went flying into the air, landing heavily on the ground a few paces away from Stan. He raised a shaking hand where the fist had made contact with his cheek and stared with round terrified eyes at the men standing above him. His cheek was already starting to swell.

The whole forest became eerily quiet around the two men.

Stan stared at his fisted hand in shock horror. He had never raised a hand against a-a friend or acquaintance. His hand started to shake as he unclenched it and tried to take a careful step forward.

"Fiddleford… I'm sorry… I-I don't know what…" He tried, any attempt at imitating his brother thrown out the window. He glanced up and shivered. "Shit!"

The frightened engineer crawled away, his eyes getting watery and twitchy, they wouldn't stay in place for more than a few moments. He backtracked as fast as his shaken limbs would allow until he bumped into something steady and big.

Apprehensively, the scrawny man raised a trembling hand, if Stan didn't know any better he could have swore he had Parkinson disease, and tentatively rested a hand on the leg that had stopped him. His eyes turned into saucers and he carefully raised his head to look up.

"Roo?"

Fiddleford's mouth dropped open and a silent scream passing his lips as he started to quiver in fear as Ford's large owl face came dangerously close to his face.

The griffin kept coming closer, even as the engineer tried to crawl away from him, his hands raised up in a peaceful manner and eyes darting in every way to find and escape.

"Stanford!" Shouted Stan, trying to get his brother's attention off the poor man. He let out a sigh or relief as it did the trick for a brief moment.

His brother raised his head, leaving the engineer alone for the time being, a paw raised up as he was about to take another step forward. He gave Stan an apologetic whine and was about to walk toward him when the quivering voice of the engineer got his attention back.

"Stan-Stanford… why-why ya call-called it..?" He didn't have time to finish his sentence as the griffin was back to stalking him.

At that moment, Stan isn't sure what happened next. Fiddleford took off at blazing speed into the wood, screeching in fear, forcing him to run after him. The damn guy was fast for a scrawny man.

Just before he reached the end of the clearing, Stan turned toward his brother. "Stay! I'll be back!" He ordered.

He didn't know if Ford heard or understood him, his attention solemnly on the ever vanishing yellow of Fiddleford shirt in front of him.

The chase went on for some time. Stan was pretty sure the scrawny nerd didn't have the faintest idea about where he was going. He zigzagged a few times between threes and even crossed a road at some point. Still, he kept a good pace ahead of the biophysicist, which must have been that Tennessee hog farm making him that fast.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Stanley managed to tackle the engineer to ground and restrain him from going any further away. The men still had some energy left in them and they both ended up tumbling into a large clearing. Both men were panting, grunting and trying to catch their breath as they both slowly rose to their feet, Stan still made sure he had a hand on Fiddleford to prevent him from escaping again. They both made a quick check up to make sure they didn't have anything more then scraps and bruises.

Satisfied, he wouldn't be able to leave, Stan glared at the engineer who whitered under his gaze.

"Why in God's name did ya take off!" He thundered, ignoring how much he sounded as a certain shade wearing man.

The noises of the forest were loud around them, birds and bugs singing their song as if nothing was wrong, but even the sound of screeching tires and truck horns in the middle of the woods. He ignored them to keep his attention solely on Fiddleford, even going as far as to tighten his grip on him.

Fiddleford whimpered and glanced away, eyes shut tight in discomfort. "I-I don't… It was… That thing was…"

"Don't call him that!" He shouted, his voice echoing around them making the birds stop their signing.

Silence set between them.

The scrawny man squinted his eyes, brow furrowing. "Don't call who what?" He said with a calm shuddering voice. "I'm not even sure who you are!"

Stan's eyebrow raised high to meet his hairline. Crap! He had done it again. He had screwed everything up. He opened his mouth to explain everything when a low growling noise erupted from behind Fiddleford. A growl Stan didn't recognize.

Freezing in place, he carefully glanced behind the engineer to see two glowing red dots from a cavern he hadn't seen when they tumbled down the clearing.

Fiddleford frowned and followed his gaze and started to tremble all over again when he spotted the glowing dots coming closer.

A huge clawed hand grasped the edge of the rocky formation, carving deep laceration in it. The creature was tall, probably around eight feet tall with giant claws on each hand. But the heights might have been due to the long straw-like hair growing on the thing's shoulders, giving it a few more inches than it was. It had even bigger tusks coming out of its lower jaw, huge yellow shaped things that glisten in the ever rising moon.

Neither of them had time to react as the thing suddenly broke into a sprint and came straight at them at blazing speed. Roaring in furry at the intruders.

Stan braced himself and Fiddleford for the impact, he tried to move the engineer behind him, to protect him. He wasn't fast enough. The beast snatched the man with its huge hands and brought him dangerously close to his face. The scrawny man was forced to look straight into its eyes, making him go limpless for a brief moment.

An angry shriek pierced the air at that moment and a huge form lunged at the beast, snapping it's arms with a sharp beak, forcing it to drop Fiddleford.

Stan acted quickly and hoisted the men out of reach of the two creatures going at each other. He did a quick glance over and was relieved to see no wounds of any kind.

Another deafening angry shriek echoed all around them, Stan heard the sound of two bodies collapsing together, thumbing and rolling round.

Tentatively he turned his attention away from the engineer to see a mess of limbs and claws. A few feathers flew everywhere along with some strains of hair. Both creatures were giving their all to try and tear at each other. A long tail whipped closed to them and two wide wings shielded them from the danger.

Stan felt his heart stop when he saw that one of his brother's wings wasn't bending correctly. And yet, Stanford kept flapping it and puffing up his feathers all and all to protect him and Fiddleford from the other creature. The griffin snarled aggressively one more time before lunging forward and landing hard on his opponent. There was some more trashing sound then something snapped and howls of pain echoed all around them.

The other thing that had attacked them limped away from the griffin, holding one of its arms close to it's chest as it retreated carefully toward the woods. One last huffed from Stanford and it scattered in seconds.

A deadly silence fell over the clearing as the dust from the fight settled down around them. Only broken by the sound of their breaths, their scared uneven breath filling the chilling air. But one breath was different then the others, it was deep and raspy and seemed straining. It worried Stan and he had a good idea of where it was coming from.

He left Fiddleford alone and took a careful step toward his twin.

Ford turned his head toward them. Stan let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when he saw his eyes normal and his shoulders dropped in relief. But only for a second.

The Griffin's eyes rolled into their socket and he fell on his side, lifeless on the forest floor.

"STANFORD!" Stan shouted as he rushed to his twin's side.

His heart rate was hammering in his ears and he gasped in horror when he saw how wet his brother's coat was. His hand hovered worriedly over the griffin. He didn't know what to do or where to start! Tentatively, he dug his hand under the heavy feather coat that covered his twin's body, wincing at the wetness of the feathers. He managed to get to the skin and felt relieved when he sensed Ford's body rising and dropping with each small breath he was taking.

Stan retrieved his hand and crawled to sit next to his brother's face, his hand petting the soft feathers around his eyes and beak, trying to get a reaction of some sort.

Stanford cracked open one eye, raised his head a little and stared at his brother. A strained whine escaped his throat. It broke Stan's heart.

"Wroo…" he moaned before slumping back.

He sat back and took the time to examine his brother, cupping a hand over his mouth as he assessed the damage.

There were patches of missing feathers all over Ford's body, exposing a pink skin. A huge open gnash was on his back, just above his shoulder blade that the biophysicist quickly covered by ripping the sleeve of his shirt. If it wasn't exposed skin, it was blood that Stan saw everywhere. As he had feared, one of the wings was badly damaged, by what he had no idea but it had been something big. His back leg was also broken, if the weird angle at which it was bending was any indication. He wouldn't be surprised if a few ribs were broken.

How was he supposed to treat those? Could they be treated? Did Stan even have the right material to heal his brother? He would have to take care of him on top of everything?

Moisture accumulated in the corner of the biologist's eyes and he whipped them off even as a lump was forming in his throat. He couldn't lose his brother! Not like this! Not when he had found a way to save him.

"Stanford… Please don't leave me..! I'll be better I swear!" Stan pleaded to his unconscious brother, not caring that tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Stan-Stanford… Or whoever you are… Can ya explain what is going on?" A southern voice asked quietly behind him.

With everything that had unfold in the few moments, Stan had forgotten about Fiddleford. Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, he answered without taking his eyes off his brother.

"Sorry, I lied about my identity. I'm Stanley Pines." He said with a tight voice. He rested a warm hand on the griffin's face, a soft rumbling noise started in the latter's throat. "This is the real Stanford Pines."

sketch made by LemonFordDrizzle on tumblr