WARNING: This fic has repeated mentions of injury and mentions of implied self harm. If you are not comfortable with those topics, please do not read further.
As if his extra fingers aren't strange enough, Ford is endlessly fascinated by the anomaly that he and Stanley (and all twins) share; when one of them becomes injured, so does the other. It sounds a bit morbid, he knows, but he and his brother find it more convenient than anything. The pain (along with the injury itself) doesn't transfer— only the signs of injury.
So if someone roughs up his brother, Stan knows about it. And if Stan gets injured, he can't hide it from Ford.
While the twins are together, this ability seems like a blessing.
But when they're apart, it makes life all the more painful.
Since graduating high school, Ford doesn't get hurt very often. No one bullies him at college— the worst he gets is the occasional scrape or cut while building something, or paper cuts from too much reading and writing. Mild injuries, to say the least.
Which is why he notices immediately when Stan's injuries start to appear.
Ever the scientist, Ford tries to swallow his panic and reason his way through the sight of the giant purple bruises blooming across his (their?) ribs.
Stanley was always getting into fights when they were younger— Ford shouldn't be surprised that he's getting into fights now.
But Ford wonders who would do this to his brother. He wonders what would cause this sort of injury. He wonders if his brother's ribs are broken. He wonders if his brother is alone. How much pain he's in…
Of course, asking these questions doesn't really help either of them. Ford doesn't know where Stanley is, or what he has gotten himself into. And why should he drop everything in an attempt to rescue the person who had deliberately ruined his life? It was hardly as if Stan would do the same for him.
Besides, Stanley is nothing if not durable. Ford is sure he'll be fine.
(And really, Stan might be stubborn, but if he truly needed help he would ask for it, right? He knew Ford wouldn't turn him away, right? Ford would help his brother in a heartbeat if he asked.)
He takes to wearing sweaters and jackets (sometimes even gloves) to hide Stan's injuries, from everyone else and himself. Eventually the first set of bruises fade, but new injuries always appear, and some of them look gruesome (was that a burn? Were those signs of stitches? Where did his brother get stitches? Was that infected?). But Ford can't worry about Stanley, no matter how much his conscience tells him otherwise.
(A memory keeps resurfacing of the two of them long ago, Ford helping Stan patch up his scraped knees, promising his little brother that he'll always be there to help him when he's hurt.)
Stan has made his choices, and now he has to deal with them. He turned his back on his family when he destroyed his brother's future, and now he has to deal with his problems alone. They both do.
Ford thinks this for far too long before he finally decides to call his mom and see if she can give him his brother's address.
Stan has lots of scars that are his, but he always pays more attention to the ones that aren't. The little red lines that indicate Ford's mishaps in engineering or reading are the only connection Stan still has to his brother, and he finds them to be a strangely reassuring reminder that Ford is still out there somewhere in the world, living his life (even though Stan screwed it up).
But now Stan wonders what kind of life his brother is living.
Thin white lines have been appearing on his arms as of late, and they stand out against Stan's own cuts and bruises. They aren't nearly as sloppy, or random— they're clean and precise, deliberate, and they cause him much more pain.
Someone is hurting his brother (or his brother is hurting himself) and he doesn't know what to do. Is this some sort of cry for help? If Ford is doing this, he must know that Stan will see it. Is he trying to ask for help, or just hurt them both? Is Stan capable of helping Ford without making everything worse? His track record does nothing to reassure him. Would his brother even want his help, after everything he's done?
One night, when a new set of such scars appears on his arm, Stan steps into the bathroom and screams. Where his reflection stares back at him, his (Ford's?) eyes are glowing yellow.
He's going to visit his brother. Now.
His first night on the other side of the portal, Ford knows that he and his twin are both in pain. In more ways than one.
The burn he'd given his brother during their fight he'd also given himself. (It was an accident, but Ford felt terrible. Even after everything they'd been through— Ford knows how badly Stan has been hurt over the years, and he never really wanted to hurt him further. He tried to stop the fight after that but Stan was just so angry…) None of Stan's injuries have actually hurt Ford before, but this one does, more than he cares to admit.
He speculates that it's something about the symbol— what it is, or means— and realizes bitterly that he doesn't even know. Bill had told him to put it there, and he'd complied without question. How blind he'd become.
And now, in their combined stupidity and blindness, he and his brother have separated each other forever. Ford doubts he will ever see Stanley or his own dimension ever again; the only connection he has to either are the scars and (for now) the pain that they share.
For some reason the thought that their bond stretches this far makes Ford's eye water.
He touches his shoulder, gingerly, and hisses. If the phantom pains hurt this much, he doesn't know what his brother is going through. Because of him…
That's a scar they both share for the rest of their lives.
Stan often wonders if his brother is going to die before he brings him back through the portal.
Make no mistake, he's seen his own share of grisly injuries in the past, but some of Ford's scars frighten even Stan. Burns of various severity frequently appear on his skin (Stan wonders about futuristic laser guns); a giant set of claw marks stretch down his back (a monster must have caught Ford from behind); at one point his face is covered in tiny nicks and cuts (clumsy brother must have fallen on his face).
Stan's stomach twists into knots when he notices these marks and many more, but he convinces himself (or at least tries to) that if he and Ford share this connection, he'll know if Ford— … if anything happens to him.
Stan repeats this like a mantra when he wakes one night to find a scar winding around his head.
During his inter dimensional travels, Ford notes that the conditions of himself and his brother seem to have reversed.
He's constantly covered in a wide variety of injuries (being a multidimensional criminal will do that to a man), and though it can be hard to tell them apart at times, it doesn't seem like Stan gets many injuries these days. And the ones Ford thinks are Stan's remind him of his college days— though the thought of Stan attempting to be an engineer or reading makes him want to laugh.
In the Nightmare realm, as he prepares for his final attack on Bill, Ford notices a bright red splotch (burn?) appear on the back of his hand.
What on Earth was Stan doing…?
Stan and Ford sit in the dark, alone in their rooms. They rub the shared bruise on their jaws, and feel miserable.
To think, today was supposed to fix everything.
Stan fell asleep, annoyed at the world. Despite the fact that his idiot, genius brother had brought about the apocalypse, everyone's top priority seemed to be rescuing him. But Stan was not on board. If Ford had just stayed with his family— if he had for once realized that he couldn't and shouldn't fix everything by himself— he wouldn't be in this mess. None of them would. And if he was so smart, and if he didn't need (or appreciate) anyone else's help, then he could escape Bill himself.
Stan continues to think this until he jolts awake, and sees the angry red skin (burns) on his wrists. His bitterness towards Stanford instantly flickers to worry, and he grits his teeth and fumes.
Oh, he's going to murder that triangle.
When Stan and Ford finally reconcile, neither of them can tell which scars are theirs and which scars are their brothers. They manage to laugh about it. Though they certainly haven't lived the lives they planned, they have had some pretty spectacular adventures (their younger selves would be impressed). Now they decide to continue their adventures together— with one important difference. Neither of them intends to let anything hurt their brother again.