Things are getting interesting...

I don't own Gravity Falls or any of the characters therein. The troupe is my creation.

I found the artist who originally created the Circus AU (which they call Cirque Du Pines). You can find them at notllorstel on tumblr.

On with the show!

As much as Stan worried about making the first (full) show Ford saw the best he'd ever done, the moment he locked eyes with his brother in the stands all tension melted away. For a glorious hour, he became the performer he'd always been as a kid, making Ford laugh with outrageous tales and enthusiastic magic tricks, and even though there was a bit more history written into Ford's mouth, the smile was exactly the same as it was back then.

Stan performed for his brother, and it took him until he hung Benjamin's old hat on its peg backstage to realize there had been other people in the crowd too.

With an hour and a half before the next show, Stan shed his crimson coat and donned his ratted jacket again. He met Ford and Fiddleford outside the big top. Fiddleford glanced around at the crowd, thicker than it had been the past two days. "Doesn't anyone recognize you?"

Stan tucked his hands into his pockets. "Nah, in the ring I'm just a hat and a coat. People don't care about the guy in the costume. Pretty interesting how a suit can make you a completely different person."

Fiddleford opted to spend his time at the hog races near the circus' perimeter, and Stan ushered Ford off to the game stands (sure to keep his brother in front of him so Ford couldn't see the way Stan's excitement manifested itself in his bouncing steps). He introduced Ford to the carnies, the people who'd become his family in ten years; Andrew, the popcorn maker who'd perfected the salt-to-butter ratio only last month. Meg, the quiet contortionist who gave them a warm smile as they passed. Charlie, one of the best barkers they had, who convinced Ford to try out the strength machine (he'd failed miserably, as Stan suspected, but Charlie offered a coupon for a free palm reading as a consolation prize). Stan saw the wariness in Ford's eyes at first, human beings had never been his forte, but as the hour passed Ford's smile came easier, and he didn't hide his hands as much.

Stan tried to conceal his glowing pride. I can't believe how well he's fitting in! Old family and new, side by side.

Now maybe he could die happy.

As time approached for Stan's second show, Ford chose to explore some of the circus on his own, promising to meet him by the entrance again later. This time, when they separated, they did so with a quick smile and a friendly shoulder punch instead of a baleful stare and closed curtains. When Ford said 'see you later', Stan believed him.

His second show went just as well as his first. And if he rushed it a little to see Ford sooner, well, that was between him and the hat.

Back in his civvies, Stan arrived at the entrance first. Ford wandered up, inspecting something in his palm. "Whatcha got there, bro?"

Stan only saw a metallic glint before Ford shoved the object deep into his coat pocket. "Nothing."

Stan frowned. Apparently Ford hadn't gotten any better at hiding his feelings, either. His brows pulled tight, eyes darting back and forth in an unfocused frenzy like he was trying to locate something just beyond his line of sight. "You sure? You look like you just saw a ghost." He laughed, trying to ease the tension, and let out a silent breath when the corner of Ford's mouth quirked up.

"No, no, trust me, that looks completely different." Uh, what? Stan filed that little comment in 'things to ask Ford later' as he pushed on. "It was just... something that fortune teller said."

Stan laughed again, deeper. "Oh, you went to see the Handwitch! Well, that explains the look, at least." He threw his arm around Ford's shoulder, leading him through the circus. The late evening saw less crowds, so the treaded dirt paths lay nearly empty. Music drifted softly on a cool breeze, rustling the surrounding trees, as the two of them left the main hub. "Yeah, she creeps me out too, Poindexter. But hey, we know better than anyone that all that fortune telling junk isn't real, right?"

Oh crap. Too late, Stan remembered not to bring up Jersey too much, but Ford's mouth twitched up as though he hadn't heard. "Heh. Yeah." The unfocused look returned.

Should he... should he push the issue? The night was already going so spectacularly Stan didn't want to mess it up. But anything to break the tension, right? "You sure? We can, uh, talk about it if you want." Please don't want, please don't want. This emotional stuff was awkward enough as is.

Thankfully, the lines around Ford's mouth eased. "No, it's alright. It was just... unexpected."

They lapsed into a not-quite-comfortable silence that grated the air like a serrated knife. Then, Stan perked. "Hey, you know what would get your mind off that creepy hag? You haven't been to the Menagerie yet, have you?"

Ford's eyes refocused. Gotcha. "What's that?"

"Geez, what did you do while I was performing?"

The smile turned sheepish. "Mostly just tried to figure out how your company kept all this maintained."

Of course. Leave it to Ford to ignore the 'show' part of a circus. Stan steered Ford towards the back of the big top. "The Menagerie is right up your alley, I'm shocked no one's told you about it yet." All the better, now Stan could show Ford himself. Oh, maybe he could introduce him to Cordelia too! The two would probably get along like a house on fire.

As they rounded the circumference of the tent, the vaulted archway to the Menagerie entrance drifted into view with a late fog. Stan had seen the dark wooden arches, ensnared by curling vines, every day for ten years, but tonight they sent a shiver across the back of his shoulders. Somehow they reminded him of the shadowed forest just outside the safety of the fence.

Ford paused under the arch, inspecting the vines with a critical eye. What, was he a botanist now too? "Odd place for it. Don't customers find it difficult to locate?"

Stan leaned his back against the other side of the arch. "Nah, Benjamin's a genius. He figured word-of-mouth is a better advertisement than anything I could come up with." And he'd been right. Even with the Menagerie out of the way, it was a major source of revenue for the company. People liked to think they'd found something secret, and when they exited near the entrance to the big top, a lot of them felt the compelling need to spill the secret to anyone they could find. To add to the mystery, Benjamin purposefully broke the standard circus aesthetic for the Menagerie, draping it in black canvas instead of the typical red-and-white, and allowing Cordelia to have her way with decorating the inside. The structure curved along the side of the main tent, the exit hidden from anyone who didn't know where to look. "Besides, makes this place a little creepy, huh?"

Ford bent to peer inside a glass display case resting on the grass to the left of the entrance. "Creepy is... certainly one word for it. What is this?"

Stan came up alongside, face splitting in a wide grin. "You like it? It's one of my finest creations!"

"...it's a gorilla."

"Yup!"

"With a chicken taped to it."

"Brilliant, right?"

"It's a fake."

"And yet," Stan elbowed the side of the display case and the money drawer popped out, filled with cash, "people go nuts for it."

Stan lost it laughing when he saw Ford's disbelieved gape. His brother shook his head and scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of a hand. "I swear, the citizens in this town get less and less intelligent every day."

Stan wiped away a mirthful tear with a finger. When was the last time that had happened? "Maybe you're sucking them dry of their brains, Poindexter. This is just the appetizer, anyway, the main course is inside." He pushed through the dark curtains into the Menagerie, and as they closed behind him, the last of the circus din fell silent.

The small room housed nothing but a three-legged stool and a wooden table, set right in the middle of the darkened space. Anything beyond the modest setup was obscured from view by a second set of black curtains, these ones strung across with a green ribbon. On it hung a sign, "staff only". Cordelia must have taken her break late. Stan fought his disappointment. There were more opportunities for her to meet Ford later, anyway.

Ford pushed through the curtains. "I must say, I'm underwhelmed."

"This isn't the whole thing, you nerd." Stan stepped over the green ribbon, beckoning Ford with a tilt of his head.

Ford hesitated, the lines by his mouth returning full force. "The sign says~"

"I'm staff, aren't I?" Stan shot a cheeky grin over his shoulder, and allowed a glow of pride when Ford's face relaxed. Dang, he was good at this stuff.

He helped Ford over the ribbon, holding the curtain open. Ford stepped inside, and Stan followed.

A different kind of din replaced that of the circus proper; sounds of creatures shuffling in the dim tent, the occasional cry of an animal, the occasional cry of something that might not have been an animal. The Menagerie stretched before them, a narrow dirt walkway bisecting rows and rows of steel barred pens. More vines curled up the bars and crawled into the rafters, heightening the impression of being in a forest. Every few feet, a lantern glowed, washing the tent in an eerie blue light. Seeing the Menagerie like Ford would, with fresh eyes, Stan couldn't deny the underlying wild energy pulsing through the flickering light and shifting sounds. Was it always this freaky in here, or was it just because Cordelia wasn't around? Don't be stupid, Stan, nothing's changed.

Stan dodged around Ford's frozen body, spreading his arms wide. "Welcome to the Menagerie!"

Ford looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

Y'know what, fair. "I know it's kinda overwhelming at first, here let me show you around." He latched on to Ford's sleeve and dragged him to the first pen. Why was Ford so limp? "Look, this thing is nuts, it's just like a normal duck, right, but its face is on its stomach!" No reply. Huh, he'd thought Ford would take to this stuff right away, he'd always been interested in weird things. Maybe he just needed to see more.

Stan pulled his brother down the path, stopping at the creatures he found the most freaky, keeping a running commentary in light of Ford's uncharacteristic silence. "I don't even know how they got this rock to move, you know. Or sing like that. A lot of people don't like the song so we have to tape it's mouth shut sometimes."

"This one is just lazy, look, all it is is a platypus with a dye job. But people love it!"

"I know what you're thinking, 'why doesn't this walking campfire set the whole place on fire'? Well, see we rigged that pail to drop water on it every hour. That was mostly Benjamin's doing, I don't know anyone else who thinks of that kind of stuff."

"Stan."

Stan paused at Ford's tone. His stomach dropped at the expression his brother wore. The lines were back with a vengeance, spreading up to his eyes and forehead. He stared, first at Stan, then at the lines of cages. The sounds of the Menagerie died under the weight of Ford's silence. It made Stan's hands itch. He stuck them in his pockets. Took them out again. Why did none of this feel right?

Finally, too long of a beat later, Ford looked at Stan again. "Stan, where did all these creatures come from?"

Wow. Stan thought Ford would have been way more into this than he seemed. He shrugged, trying desperately to keep his tone light. "I dunno, they've been around longer than I have. I think Cordelia and Benjamin came up with most of them."

Ford shook his head, slowly at first, then gaining speed. "This... this isn't right. They're so... dirty..."

Stan glanced around. "I mean... yeah, they haven't been cleaned in a while, and some of their batteries probably need changing, but you gotta admit this is still pretty rad, right?"

Never in all Stan's life could he describe Ford as anything resembling 'dumb', but as they locked eyes, he had to admit he was coming pretty close. "B-batteries?"

Oh. Oh, no wonder Ford was having an aneurism. "Ford, you know none of the things in here are real, right? They're just like the Gorr-icken. Fakes." Convincing fakes, sure, but Benjamin only ever wanted the best.

"No, these creatures are real."

Maybe too convincing. "Ford, has all this country air ruined your brain?" Ford bristled, but Stan pushed on, gesturing to the closest pen. "I mean, look at this. Gnomes don't look anything like this, right? You know that from your nerd game."

Ford's wide eyes swung to the pen. "Oh, god." He covered the distance to the bars in two long strides, sinking to one knee.

Stan took a step towards him. "Ford?"

"What's your name?"

It took a beat for Stan to realize Ford was talking to the gnome. "Ford, that thing's broken. All it can say is~"

"Shmebulock."

Right, that. Nonsense. So why did Ford grip the bars so hard? "Oh, god," he repeated. "I found you."

Oooookay, enough of this. Stan stepped forward. "Look, bro, maybe we should get you back home, you don't sound too good~" He reached out to set a hand on Ford's shoulder.

Ford pulled away and shot up in one swift movement, the swirl of his coat disturbing the sawdust in the cage. Stan backed away. He'd only seen that expression once before. No no no this isn't happening not again. But Ford spoke and the tone was the same and suddenly Stan was seventeen again standing in another dark room with an eerie blue glow and his storm cloud of a brother ready to erupt. "Not real? Did you not hear Shmebulock speak just now or are your ears crammed with cotton candy? Gnomes are real, Stanley!"

An old burn flared inside Stan like sawdust dumped on a dying fire. Was he serious? "Ford, are you listening to yourself? You sound like a crazy person!"

"Stanley, for once in your life, think about someone other than yourself and look around you. Can't you see you've ruined the lives of everything in this tent? How much pain do you have to put people through before you realize you're in the wrong?"

Stan's heart stuttered. His mouth went slack. Then, with the rising flame in his chest, his face darkened. "Oh. Oh, I get it. Now it's all coming out, huh? You're still singing that same dumb song? 'Oh, Stan ruined my life and I couldn't leave to go to a stupid school, he's the worst brother ever', right?"

"You sabotaged my future!"

"Yeah, looks like you really got the short end of the stick here. A house, land, your grant money. Wouldn't it be horrible if you were, oh I dunno, kicked out of the house at seventeen?"

Ford surged forward, hands balling at his sides. "Like you had it so hard! Snuggled up with criminals and animal abusers, conning innocent people out of their money across the country! Is anything you do legitimate?"

Stan punched Ford across the face, fist blossoming in pain. He'd felt worse. "How was that? Did that feel legitimate?" Somehow, the look in Ford's eyes as he rubbed his blackening cheek enraged Stan more than anything. "I made one mistake that cost me everything, you self-centered asshole! You had to bum it with scabs like me for a couple of years while you whined about everything you never got handed to you on a silver platter! You think some carny creations in cages is bad? Try being homeless. Try starving. Try finally finding a way to make a living while some entitled jerk calls you scum for wanting to eat another day!"

Nose to nose, Ford had a very different expression now, searching Stan's thunderous face with flickering eyes. His mouth opened and closed, blinking in that infuriating owlish way of his. Stan's chest heaved in time with the pulsing red haze at the edges of his vision, and he dared Ford to speak.

Ford's hand twitched towards the inside pocket of his coat, but then stilled. A beat. "T-they're real..."

Stan exploded.

"That's all you have to say?" A bitter laugh burst from between his teeth. "Of course, it's always about you. Fine, so what if they are real? They're freaks, Stanford! Maybe freaks belong in cages!"

The air in the Menagerie went deathly still. Even the animals fell silent.

And too late, Stan remembered. But Ford's face had gone carefully neutral. The temperature dropped several degrees at Ford's tone. "Is that right." His hands flexed, and Stan thought he might throw a punch. He wished he would.

Ford's spine lengthened, the blue lantern light glinting off the lenses of his glasses, and Stan's knees went weak. Seventeen years of an identical frown raced through his head. They look so much alike. What did that make him? "Stanford, I didn't mean~"

"Do I belong in a cage, Stanley?"

His words could have frozen the sun. Stan's throat closed up.

Ford stood there a moment longer, and unpleasant memories battered Stan's brain like sheets of rain, relentless and stinging. Then, Ford turned and started walking.

"...Sixer~"

Ford flinched, and Stan didn't say anything else until the back of Ford's long coat vanished behind heavy black curtains.

The Menagerie din returned to normal, and Stan sank to his knees.

By the time Stan found the strength to leave the Menagerie, the circus had long closed. Rancorous laughter drifted on the fog from the main tent as the company drank to another night of fleecing the locals, but Stan didn't feel like celebrating.

He'd had his brother back, and then lost him again. Not everyone gets a second chance. How could he have lost that too?

He really was a screw-up, wasn't he.

But Ford... Ford wasn't any better. And, okay, maybe the 'freak' comment had been out of line, but Ford seemed to genuinely believe the things in the Menagerie were real. There was no way, even Stan couldn't have made those up! A plaidypus? Really?

Fiddleford said Ford was acting strange, hadn't he? Was this what he meant? Chasing fairytales and losing his grip on reality?

The strings of lights lining the pathways grew dim as Stan passed into the trailer park, and his thoughts darkened with them. No, Ford had been perfectly sound of mind when he'd brought up that stupid school again. When was he going to let that go? Would he be an old man, sitting on a rocking chair, telling his grandchildren 'I had a brother once, but all he ever did was ruin my life'? Even if he lived that long, would Stan ever see him again?

Would Ford even care?

Argh, the night had been going so well, too! Maybe Cordelia would have some advice how to get through someone's thick skull.

But as Stan approached her trailer, he slowed. The lights were off, and no sweet-smelling incense joined the smell of a damp night. She hadn't been at the Menagerie when he left, and she was hardly the partying type. Just his luck, had Cordelia abandoned him too?

A strange noise filled the air, reverberating through his chest, and it took Stan a second to realize the low growl was coming from him. Could this night get any worse?

"That is most definitely not a happy sound."

Apparently it could. Standing behind him, shrouded in the shadow of one of the trailers, stood Benjamin. While it wasn't odd to see him in civvies, he somehow always managed to make a button-down and vest much more sophisticated than usual. Like he always wore the idea of a top hat even if his black silk one was hanging backstage. He studied Stan intensely, dark eyes taking in every detail.

Stan shoved his hands in his pockets (not to hide from Benjamin, though, he was just cold. Yeah). "I'm not a happy camper."

"The visit didn't go well?"

Cursed circus gossip. That's what happened when people weren't allowed to roam the streets enough. "He... he reminded me why I got disow~" his throat closed around the word. Ten years later, and it was still a pain to get out into the open. "Disowned."

Benjamin tilted his head. "If I may be so bold." He continued at Stan's nod. "Perhaps it was for the better."

"What do you mean?"

"Perhaps this is a sign. To cut ties with your old family and embrace your new one."

Stan's immediate reaction was to balk, say 'no there must be some way I can fix this', but he paused. He'd had ten years to try and fix his relationship with Ford. Hell, Ford had ten years to fix their relationship. Had he ever tried? Had he once reached out to Stan, even to ask him how he was doing? No. And tonight only proved that Ford couldn't let go of old mistakes, that he was still the same prideful, selfish boy he'd always been. Ford didn't need Stan, he'd made that very clear.

Tonight was also the first night that Stan felt maybe he didn't need Ford, either.

Benjamin seemed to sense the shift in Stan's brain. His boots barely made a sound on the grass as he came to stand in front of Stan. "I know it's been a while, but I'd like you to let us prove ourselves as your new family."

Stan perked. That sounded like a good thing. Maybe a betting thing. What he wouldn't give for a decent casino right now, something to take the edge off. "What did you have in mind?"

Benjamin glanced around conspiratorially, and now Stan was really interested. What could make Benjamin feel like he needed to sneak around? "This is a closed invitation, Stanley, no one else must know about this. But I trust you."

Stan's heart warmed with pride, but he kept his mouth shut.

"There's a reason Majorie and I came to Gravity Falls."

He couldn't help himself now. "I knew it! This place is way too small to turn a decent profit!"

The corners of Benjamin's moustache quirked up in a smile. "Clever lad. Yes, if all goes well tomorrow night, it'll mean more profit for the whole company. In fact, we may very well rise to the most well-paid circus in the country."

Stan swallowed his sudden build-up of saliva and spoke very carefully. "How 'well-paid'?"

Benjamin's eyes glittered. "Millions."

Oh, there was the saliva again. "What's happening tomorrow night?"

"Should you so choose to participate, I'll give you the whole plan after your shows tomorrow evening. Tell no one, the less people who know the better." He eyed Stan in a way that made him want to squirm. "Be warned this will likely not be an easy job. Whether you choose to come along or not is up to you."

The invitation was clear. And sure, maybe he wasn't a fan of all the vague promises (deals that seemed too good to be true usually were), but Stan had done dangerous jobs for Benjamin before. And the prospect of millions... He could almost see his Pa's face when the circus found itself in Jersey and he could go ho- back to the house with the duffle bag he'd been thrown out with stuffed with money. None would go to his Pa, of course. All he needed to do was show Pa he'd done everything that everyone said he couldn't. And that was incentive enough.

"I'm in."

Benjamin's eyes crinkled with his smile, and he set a hand on Stan's shoulder. "I knew you would be, son."