Chapter 24: Summer's End

The summer heat slowly went away, the green leaves turning into oranges, reds, and yellows as they slowly fell from the branches.

Business was starting to slow at the Mystery Shack as the autumn air crept into Gravity Falls. That was when Stan decided to work on the portal with more of his time and energy. A few tourists came and went, but with the cooler not many people seemed to want to be outside. Soon Stan was becoming much more sleep deprived, him sleeping more during the day after opening shop for a few hours a day.

He didn't attend his father's funeral that was a couple of weeks prior.

Stan did send flowers though, and a letter forged in Stanford's handwriting apologizing for not attending. A week later there was a letter of response from his mother, a newspaper article attached to her handwritten letter. She seemed deeply upset that "Stanford" didn't attend the funeral. Reading the letter was breaking Stan's heart, him feeling the dried up parts of the paper where her tears had fallen while writing.

According to her letter the funeral was very small, only a few members of the family was to attend, and that included Shermie with his new family. A few friends was there as well, but since the Pines family didn't have much spare funds, everything was held at the Pines Pawn Shop.

Stan knew he couldn't attend, his mother would know who he was on the spot, after all she was his mother, she would recognize him in an instant. He knew as Filbrick's son he should've went to the funeral, but a bitter thought had went through his mind: His father didn't even bother to try to have a funeral for him when he "died", so why should he have went to his anyway?

With a heavy sigh, Stan had put away the letter from his mother in a small box he kept in the closet in his bedroom. He then goes into the kitchen and pours himself a large glass of whisky and starts drinking it straight. It burned his throat, but he knew he deserved it.

He sat there, his mind wandering…

I'm a terrible son. I'm a terrible brother.

Stan knew that he was always the source of so many problems. He had gotten in trouble in the neighborhood a lot, causing fights when bullies picked on Stanford. He started lying at a very young age to try to mimic his mother, she praised him for the talent but warned him that there was a time and a place, advice that he wished he really had taken over the years. He started stealing at a young age because he knew his family didn't much money after having an unexpected third kid, him, and he wanted to try to make his twin brother happy.

Now because of him his family is ripped apart. He ruined Stanford's project and his chance to get into an amazing school. He ruined his family's chance to get better in life. He ruined his relationship with his brother… his twin brother.

Another glass of whisky was poured into the glass and he downed it like it was shot, causing him to cough violently and his throat burn. The edge of his vision started to get blurry, Stan was familiar with this.

"I'm just a terrible person in general…" Stan whispered to himself as he sadly looked into his empty glass. His eyes were heavy, the bags under his eyes prominent. "Just a couple of minutes…" he yawned as he leaned his face into his hand propped on the table by his elbow. Soon he was snoring.

"Hiya there, pal!" a shrill voice practically shrieked.

Stan screamed as he fell out of his chair. He saw before him… a floating yellow triangle. It wasn't just a triangle though… it wore a top hat and a bow tie, a giant eye in the center. The thing literally had thing arms and legs sticking out of it like it was some sort of rag doll. The triangle had no mouth, but it "spoke", its body flashing into brighter yellow with each word.

"What the hell!?" Stan screamed. He glares at his alcohol. "I need to stop drinking before sleeping…"

"That's right, Stanley!" the triangle cheered. "What you need to be doing is trying to get your brother back!"

"Can't do that if I'm so tired that I can't keep my eyes open…" Stan muttered. He shook his head. Why was he arguing with a dream?

The triangle puts its thin arms on its side, mimicking putting hands on hips. "Well, don't you want Stanford back or not? I mean, after all, it was your fault that he is trapped in some God forsaken place! I mean… who knows, he could be starving, frostbitten, hey, he could even be dead for all you know!"

With each statement Stan's heart dropped lower. It was his fault.

"So… how about you get cracking on that portal, Stanley?" the triangle suggested. "Maybe Sixer's room has some clues?"

Stan hadn't been in Stanford's room since the first night. He was so distraught about Stanford being sucked through the portal that he didn't go through his brother's items. Could he really just go through his stuff?

"Don't you want him back or not!?" this time the floating triangle was angry, a few sparks of blue flame coming off of him.

Suddenly, Stan opened his eyes and he was lying on his back on the kitchen floor. Groggily, he got up and made his way into the hallway, drunkenly trying to find a light switch; he gave up on that quickly. After what seemed like an eternity, he made it to Stanford's room and opened the door with a creak. Inside was just how Stan had left it, now with the addition of thick layer of dust.

He goes and searches the desk drawers, only finding empty jelly bean bags and chewed up pens. Stan did find books on physics and chemistry, more advanced than he was used to, so he snagged those. Obviously he was too drunk to even think about reading them, but it didn't stop him from trying.

Once again he sat at the kitchen table, the clock ticking in a mocking way with each passing second. Each second Stanford was trapped somewhere… each second he was closer to death. Stan had to get him back, he just had to. Of all the mistakes he had made in his life, this was the one that he most desperately wants to fix.

So, he sat there as the clock chimed midnight, signaling the last day of summer to end. It had been about six months since that terrible night… a night that haunts his nightmares.

Don't worry, Sixer… I'm going to fix this…

It was probably in his head still from his dream, but he could swear that the shrill voice was now laughing… and for some reason it seemed familiar…


A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry about the lack of updates, but between work and getting my hands on Journal 3 I have been swamped! Journal 3 is the best thing ever... I have 2 copies... I had pre-ordered on Amazon but because I have a small P.O. Box if I had went to pick it up after work I wouldn't be able to get it since my larger packages I have to go to the post office counter to get... SO I went to the store and bought a copy to read after work. Now I am Mabel and make the Journals kiss each other. BUT ENOUGH ABOUT THAT! So, after reading the journal some of my future writing will be influenced... BUT DON'T WORRY, as this is fanfiction I am still finishing this story with the way that I had intended to do. And, don't worry, there will be NO SPOILERS FOR JOURNAL 3.

Sorry this was short as well... I kind of got stuck.

And yes, between Stan's and Ford's time on their sides of the portal it is the SAME PERIOD. At this point Layla and Ford have known each other for about six months, it's just with all of their shenanigans it seems time is faster.

Thanks for reading as always!

~Skye Hendersen~