So glad I could get this done before the year ended! I'm super proud of this story and all I've learned from it!

Plus, all I've learned too late. Do you have any idea how many times I could've used the term 'roustabout' in this story? Why did I only learn what it meant yesterday?

Anyway, nothing but the troupe belong to me.

On with the show!

Stan allowed his eyes to slide shut, the dawn sun turning the inside of his eyelids a muted red. He gingerly uncurled his cramped fingers from the trigger of Ford's crossbow (oh yeah, Ford had a crossbow) and set it on the dewy wood of the back porch. Dawn, and not a single sign of Benjamin all night.

Ford had offered his couch when they'd arrived back to the shack, but the threat of being found after what he'd done kept Stan far from anything resembling sleep. He'd done jobs with the troupe, he knew what they were capable of, and no way in hell was he going to let Benjamin kick down the door to threaten Ford while Stan still drew breath. Even being at the shack was enough to put Ford in danger. So while he had retreated upstairs to nurse the plaidypus, Stan had taken vigil in his current spot, scanning the foggy forest and jumping at every tiny noise.

Benjamin wasn't really the pitchfork-and-torches type, but he must have known Stan couldn't get too far. Why hadn't he burst through the clearing yet? That was weird, right? Or had Benjamin just decided Stan wasn't worth the effort? Did he really mean that little to his mentor? Well, his former mentor now. The thought stung, despite how much Stan dreaded the thought of Benjamin manifesting out of the trees like a vengeful ghost.

Hours passed with no sign of the ringmaster, and now, as the watery rays of sun pierced through the persistent fog cover, Stan dared to entertain the idea that Benjamin really wasn't coming. He let his shoulders drop, the exhaustion of the night finally gripping his form. Sweet Moses, he was tired. Even if Benjamin was planning a confrontation, it would he stupid to try anything in full daylight. Especially on a house that looked like it was constantly prepared for a military invasion. That was a comforting thought, maybe Stan could actually manage to fall asleep with that in mind. Ford's couch was looking mighty comfortable right about now…

Stan's eyes drifted halfway open.

Then he shot to his feet, heart in his throat and fists at his chest.

A figure stood in the center of the clearing; statue-still, shrouded in fog, lit like a spectre by the thin morning sun. Too far for Stan to see its features, but close enough it must have been able to hear the pounding of his heart. It wasn't Benjamin, no, too short for that. The sunlight brightened and a gentle breeze blew through the clearing, shifting the fog enough to reveal the figure in detail.

Stan squinted. "…'Delia?"

It was Cordelia, but it wasn't. The thick sweater and shorts were right, and the bare feet, and the neutral set of her features, but something was different. Under the certain light she often had a green tint to her skin, but now she was positively verdant. Her hair, stark white instead of its usual ashen blonde colour, bushed out in thick waves past her knees, dappled with tiny pink flowers that reminded Stan of the teacup she used for readings. And there was… something else. Something fresher about her whole appearance. She glowed, radiantly healthy. Too bright for the world around her.

They stared at each other, unblinking, the only movement being their hair as the breeze intensified, then dropped. The world settled into tense stillness.

The sides of Cordelia's mouth pulled up in her familiar smile. When Stan was eighteen, that smile made his heart race. Now, it just roused suspicion. "Stanley."

"Cordelia." He glanced away long enough to scan the surrounding forest. His hands flexed, frustratingly empty without the crossbow he'd left on the deck, but he didn't dare move towards it. Not when something could be lurking out of eyeshot with a weapon at the ready. "I guess it was just a matter of time."

Her smile widened into grin territory. "You are not a hard man to find."

"In my defense, it's a small town," he shrugged. "So you've come to the armpit of nowhere to, what, get revenge? Beat me to a pulp? I assume Theo is somewhere, or Babbit. Or did you lead Benjamin here so he could murder me himself?"

"On the contrary, I'm likely the only thing keeping him from finding you."

Stan's fists dropped a fraction before he caught himself. "What are you talking about?"

She glanced upwards. "Take a moment to think about it."

On impulse, Stan followed her gaze and got an eyeful of sunlight for his trouble. Ow. It wasn't that bright before, was it? What time was it anyway? Manfri taught him a long time ago how to determine time by the sun's position and the horizon, but he could barely see his own nose with all this fog~

Wait.

Stan relaxed his fighting stance, reaching out one hand and watching the way the fog rolled thickly between his fingers. "This stuff should've burned off by now." As if in response, it ducked and curled around his hand like a living creature. Freaky.

Stan's eyes flicked to Cordelia. Her persistent grin betrayed more joy than Stan had ever seen her express. "What have you discovered, Stanley?"

There was no way. "You… are you doing this?"

She didn't confirm, but she didn't need to. "The fog will prevent you from being found, and I have some friends who will encourage Benjamin elsewhere should he draw too close. Rest assured, he won't find you."

Stan blew out a puff of air. "Geez, he's really on the warpath, huh? How mad is he?"

Cordelia's smile turned sympathetic, head tilting in the smoothest movement. "Livid. He's issued 'detain on sight' instructions to the family."

Should've guessed. "Then if you're not here to hand me over, what do you want? And, not that I don't appreciate it, but why go through all the trouble to help out a bum who just got rid of the circus' cash generator?" Ah crap, he was just handing over reasons to turn him in, wasn't he. Shut up, Stan!

She gestured towards him with a hand. "May I approach, or is that weapon of yours thirsting for blood?"

Oh right, the crossbow. Stan's hands itched towards it, but something about the way Cordelia had changed gave him the impression that a crossbow wouldn't do much to stop her if she didn't want to be stopped. Not to mention Stan had absolutely no idea how to use the thing. He gave the best nonchalant shrug he could while also being kind of weirded out by her (but not scared, not Stan Pines).

She started forward, inhumanly graceful. Maybe… Well, after the revelations sprung on him last night and everything Ford said about Gravity Falls and its inherent weirdness, was it too much to believe that maybe Cordelia wasn't entirely human either? She'd always been a little eccentric (and, on some occasions, creepy). He was used to her eyes now, but they'd made his skin crawl when he'd first met her. He'd chalked it up to a typical circus deformity, but could there actually be a different reason behind it?

She stopped an arm's length from him. Yup, her skin was definitely greener. "I came to thank you."

Stan blinked dumbly. "What?"

"I've been waiting too long for an opportunity to release the creatures held in the Menagerie. I want to thank you for doing what I never had the courage to do. It is because of you that those under my protection no longer have to suffer."

Stan heard the words. They passed through his ears into his brain like most words did. But something must have gotten lost in translation. "Run that by me again, I must be delusional from lack of sleep. I just got rid of your livelihood, and you're thanking me?" Okay, definitely time to stop digging this hole, Stanley.

Cordelia's face soured. "Working at the Menagerie, working for Benjamin was never my livelihood. It always has been and always will be my only job to watch over this forest and protect it from threats. Once, many years ago, I shirked that responsibility, and Benjamin was able to capture the creatures in the Menagerie out from under me. I left my place here to track him down, to make sure I could offer those I failed comfort in their captive state. It wasn't too difficult to convince the ringmaster at the time to take me on as a worker." She spread her hands, indicating to herself. "I was much closer to my original form back then, and I'm quite the oddity myself."

Understatement. What would Stan have done in that same situation? In a flash, he realized he'd gotten a taste of what he may have done only the night previous. "Why didn't you just let them go right away?"

"We were far from Gravity Falls at that point, and I couldn't guarantee safety for all of us on the journey back. I figured the touring schedule would eventually lead us back, but Benjamin became ringmaster soon afterwards and he made a point to keep the circus away from here. Perhaps he thought we would grow more powerful the closer we became to our home forest."

Looking at Cordelia now, there didn't seem to be much evidence to argue that point. "But you could have let them all go our first day here."

"I was not yet strong enough, he simply would have gathered them all up again on his little excursion last night. One more day, I kept telling myself, just to get a little stronger. Prolonging their suffering due to my fear." She laughed, but the sound was bitter. "How selfish."

Stan searched the treeline again. Was there something moving in the fog, or were his eyes playing tricks? "Do you think he'll go on another hunting trip tonight?"

"No," Cordelia's irises flashed, just for an instant, and goosebumps rose on Stan's shoulders. He could've sworn the temperature just dropped. "Because this time I'll be there to stop him."

Stan stared at her. "'Delia, what are you?"

A door opened behind them, and they both turned. Ford stepped onto the back porch, eyes hard, positioning himself just in front of the abandoned crossbow. The plaidypus was curled tightly in his arms, its head tucked into the flannel of Ford's shirt, and Stan would bet actual money that Ford hadn't put the thing down all night.

"Good morning, Stanley," he said in a voice like ice. Stan tensed at the tone, far too familiar over the past few days. Ford lifted his chin at Cordelia, "who's this?"

Stan relaxed a little. The voice wasn't intended for him. What a nice change, although he'd better set the record straight before Ford decided to put a bolt through somebody's head. "Uh, Ford, this is Cordelia Delight. She was one of my circus friends." Probably better not to mention she ran the Menagerie. "'Delia, this is Ford."

Cordelia's expression softened at Ford's appearance despite his obvious overwhelming hostility. "Ah, this must be the brother. Wonderful to meet you at last."

Ford shifted his head to Stan, though he kept his eyes on Cordelia. "What is she doing here?"

"Geez, Ford, she's here to thank us for letting the Menagerie loose, don't give yourself an ulcer."

Finally, Ford looked at him. "And you believe her?"

Oh, that was… that was a good point. Stan turned to Cordelia, who met his gaze levelly. It was entirely possible for her to be lying, right? Getting his guard down with some fabricated sob-story before bringing Benjamin and who knows who else back for the main event? Ten years on the road, doing less-than-legal jobs and interacting with hundreds of people who'd like nothing more than to see him die in a ditch, Stan learned immediately that trust should be given slowly and warily.

On the flip side, you don't travel ten years in close quarters with a person, sharing good times and bad times, quiet mornings and raucous nights, without trusting them just a little. While Cordelia had always remained a degree of separation away from the circus family, Stan had considered her a friend for almost as long as he'd considered Ford a brother. She'd never done anything in the past to give him reason to doubt her now.

"Yes," Stan said without breaking her stare. Her eyes sparkled at the word. "Yes, I do believe her."

He tracked Ford's eyes darting back and forth between them by feel more than sight. Then, almost too quietly for Stan to hear, he said, "very well."

In his arms, the plaidypus stirred.

The movement drew Cordelia's attention, and warmth filled her face. "Ah, I see you've made a friend."

Ford looked down at the creature in his arms, and Stan swore he'd never seen his brother look at something so softly. "Yes, he was quite shaken last night. I cleaned him up best I could, but the poor thing was exhausted."

Cordelia lifted a hand towards it. "May I?"

Ford startled at the question, eyebrows furrowing uncertainly. He glanced to the plaidypus, up to Cordelia's outstretched arm, back again, probably wrestling with enough thoughts to burst a brain, even one as big as his. Stan almost smirked at the obvious debate crossing Ford's mind and playing out through his face. A dozen different micro expressions he'd learned to read as a barker and a gambler finally settled on reluctant acceptance. All through this, Cordelia waited, patient and motionless. Ford took a halting step forward, then another. He came to the edge of the porch and carefully extracted the fuzzy parasite from his shirt, lowering it into Cordelia's steady hands. When her fingers brushed its coat, the plaidypus made a small sound, as if activated by her touch. She brought it to rest against her chest and it snuggled in like a content cat, chittering. Cordelia clicked a series of sounds back to it. Stan guessed he'd seen weirder.

Cordelia lifted her smile to Ford. "You've cared for him well, but now it's time to finally reunite him with his family. He misses them dearly."

Stan's heart squeezed. Something about her voice made it seem like she was setting an ultimatum. His mouth spoke without input from his brain. "You sure you don't want to come in for some coffee?"

Her eyes softened. "Stanley, I~"

"Or some tea, maybe Ford has tea somewhere under all his dirty dishes."

"Stanley~"

"Y'know what, we should probably give that thing one more check-up, just to make sure it's~"

"Stanley." She halted his babbling with a gentle hand to his jaw, turning his face until she forced his avoidant eyes to hold hers. She searched his face with more tenderness than Stan had seen… probably ever. "It's time for me to leave."

His shoulders slumped. Of course she saw right through him, she had for ten years. He leaned into her touch, the lump in his chest moving up to block the base of his throat as she brushed her thumb gently over his cheek. "Where will you go?"

"Back to my duties, and finally back to my tree. I've spent too much time away, and I need to recover my strength."

"You're not entirely human, are you?"

Something at the back of Stan's mind said he ought to tell Ford to learn how to read the room, but Cordelia's air of finality took precedence. "Will I ever see you again?"

She smiled, and didn't answer. She didn't have to. Instead, she guided Stan's head lower and placed a gentle kiss against his forehead. Stan swallowed hard, but dammit, that stupid lump wasn't going anywhere. "Stanley Pines, you have done me and this forest a great service. You are a brave, intelligent man, and you have done and will do great things. The forest does not forget an individual such as yourself." She pulled back, hand and eyes lingering on his face for a moment longer before slipping away, light as silk.

"This~" Stan's voice caught around that lump, but he cleared his throat and pushed on, "this is what you meant with your leaf reading, wasn't it? About paths and loyalties?"

"Fortunes are a tricky business, my friend. Just because the troublesome moment has passed doesn't mean the reading has run its course." She winked, so quickly that Stan would've thought he'd imagined it if he didn't pick up on the mischief in her voice, and the lump got a little smaller.

She extended a hand to Ford, like she was instigating a handshake. Stan didn't miss the hesitant flex of Ford's fingers before he slowly reached forward and accepted. A small noise of protest burst through his mouth as Cordelia pulled his hand closer and kissed his knuckles, but she released his hand in one smooth motion before Ford had the chance to jerk away. Though, from the way his brother was frozen, hand outstretched, ears an alarming shade of pink, Stan got the impression that Ford wouldn't have pulled away even if he'd had the chance. Probably had something to do with the fact that Cordelia wasn't, y'know, human.

Cordelia held his eyes, stare considerably harder than when she addressed Stan. Ford squirmed, and that was more the reaction Stan expected from him. "Stanford Pines, I don't need to do a reading for you to know you will have choices to make in the future. Consider your own loyalties very, very carefully." Ford nodded, blessedly mute for once.

Cordelia stepped back, figure ghostly as shafts of sunlight illuminated her through the swirling fog cover, and regarded both of them. Words caught in Stan's throat, things to say and questions to ask, too many to count, but not one of them forced their way out if his mouth. He trembled with the urge to say everything, and then said nothing.

Cordelia turned and disappeared into the forest. She never looked back, but somehow, that was okay.

"Well," Ford stared fixedly at the back of his hand, "you certainly made some interesting friends in your time away."

"Yep." Oh, that reminded him, "Benjamin won't be finding us anytime soon. 'Delia took care of that."

"I assume the fog is her doing? It's unusual to see it so long after the sun's come up."

Stan hummed an agreement, and the two of them stood in silence for a moment. From the way Ford's stare was burning a hole into the back of his neck, Stan assumed he wanted to say something more, but talking was low on the list of things Stan wanted to do right now (only just above 'turn himself back in to the circus'). He kept his eyes on the treeline and silently encouraged Ford to drop whatever he was thinking about.

"Er, Stanley~"

Oh, there he goes.

"~Do you… That is, what's your plan now?"

He really didn't want to have this conversation. "I dunno."

"But that place was your home, correct? And now you can't ever go back~"

"Yeah, okay, thanks Ford, I'd totally forgotten."

Ford huffed a compressed sigh, the one that always meant he didn't want to be having the conversation either. Stan half expected Ford to just retreat into the house. Heavy footsteps on wood seemed to confirm his theory until Ford moved into his peripheral, joining him in the clearing. "That… that wasn't what I meant. I just… want to know what's next for you."

The problem was, Stan didn't really know. Here he stood, homeless and friendless once again, his whole life cycling in a vicious pattern. He had a decent amount of money saved up from circus pay though, so maybe he wasn't quite starting from scratch this time. He had his car, and enough for a hotel room for a while. Maybe an apartment. Pfft, imagine him, Stanley Pines, settling down. He shrugged, trying to make the action look easy, carefree. "Who knows? Maybe I'll head down to California. It's a nice state, they're always looking for performers. Not like I have many other marketable skills, am I right?" He laughed. It sounded hollow. He really should be able to act better than this.

Ford raised one hand, twisting and turning it in the fog. "Your friend said this is what was keeping the circus leader from finding you? What happens if you leave the perimeter?"

"I'm sure I'll figure it out. Benjamin probably won't risk the whole company looking for one guy." Speaking of, now that the Menagerie was out of commission, probably forever, was the circus going to be able to turn a profit? Had Stan condemned the whole family to bankruptcy in an attempt to connect with his estranged brother? Would they all find themselves in the same position as him in a few months? He should've asked Cordelia, she would've known.

Ford made a noise like he didn't approve, because of course he didn't, and Stan braced for a lecture on 'Having a Sixteen Step Plan' or 'How to be an Effective Member of Society After You've Been Kicked Out of the Only Home You've Ever Known Twice in a Row'.

"I don't enjoy the thought of you leaving the protective confines of this fog while your boss is so close by."

Oh, that was unexpected. "Gotta leave sometime, why not get a head start on the rush?"

"You don't have to."

Stan's heart stuttered to a stop. He didn't dare move, if he looked at Ford then Ford might explain further, and Stan didn't want to know what he was implying. Didn't want to get his hopes up. Didn't want them shattered again.

Ford explained further, because he was Ford. "I mean, you don't have to leave right away. That is, not if you don't want to. It may be safer for you remain stationary for a few days. Or maybe longer if you wish. But if you don't, that's perfectly fine too, don't let me~"

"Ford," Stan interrupted the word vomit. If he had to listen much longer, his frayed nerves might snap. "Spit it out, would ya?"

Ford paused, then sighed, a deep one this time. "I think it would be a good idea for you to stay here, at least until the circus leaves. I understand you risked a lot on my word, and I'm not your favourite person at the moment, but~"

"Whoa, whoa," now Stan did turn to Ford, "who says you're not my favourite person?" Wait, that sounded too sappy. Play it off. "I mean, one of my best friends just walked into a fog, never to be seen again, and the rest of them probably consider me a traitor, so I'd argue that you're the only person who could possibly be my favourite right now." Nope, too depressing. "Not that I'd play favourites anyway." Nice save, Stan.

Now it was Ford's turn to avert his gaze. He stared off into the fog cover, sunlight reflecting off his glasses in a way that obstructed his eyes, but Ford's face had never been his tell. It was always the hands. They now folded behind his back, flexing uncomfortably the way they always did when he confronted emotions he didn't understand.

Stan followed his brother's stare, and they lapsed into silence again. Any other day, Stan may have been tempted to pry, but after last night and now Cordelia's departure, he didn't have the energy to feel feelings. If Ford wanted to say something, he would.

"I… I haven't forgiven you, you know." Wonderful start. Thank Moses Stan was too drained to argue. "There are still things I don't want to talk about, and I know you don't want to talk about them either."

Here we go, time for the inevitable stab through the heart. At least Stan had a little warning this time. His shoulders tightened, waiting for Ford's final word.

"But I think we should."

Uh, what?

Stan dared to inspect Ford's face. The glint to the glasses was gone, replaced by those flickering, uncertain micro expressions again. And under all that, behind the raised eyebrows and the tiny turn up of his mouth… hope? Or was Stan imagining things?

"I'm not blind to the sacrifices you made for me yesterday," Ford said quietly. "I would like for you to stay with me. At least, for a little while. I know ten years of resentment can't be fixed in a day," one hand came up to settle gently on Stan's shoulder. His muscles eased under the light touch. "But it might be a good place to start."

Stan blinked back the pressure building behind his eyes. What could he possibly say to express the way a weight ten years in the making lifted from his mind, his heart, his back? The words hadn't been invented yet.

So Stan, mouth twitching upwards in a smile that only barely covered tears, held up a hand.

Ford stared at it for a beat before recognition warmed his face. He touched his palm to Stan's, and the two of them fit together just like they did when they were kids.

Ford lowered his hand first, heading back towards the house, but Stan didn't miss his brother's smile. "I'll put on some coffee."

Stan hummed appreciatively. Coffee sounded so good right now. He followed Ford up the porch steps, but stopped when he got to the threshold, twisting to look into the forest one last time. Was there a flash of green and white, or was that just his imagination?

Whichever it may have been, the radiant glow in his chest was real. It seemed he'd chosen his loyalties right after all.

Stan crossed the threshold and shut the door behind him. He and his brother had a lot to talk about.

END

So begins an AU of the Mystery Trio AU, where Stan has some, ah, VERY SPECIALIZED skills of his own to contribute.

And now, no more fanfiction for Benny until she finishes Brightest Stars! Which means I'll see y'all again in March. Of 2022.