Towards the Sun

by Foil Candle

Ford follows his brother into the nightmare realm, and now it is a race against time for him to safely get them both out alive.

2. Chapter 2

Author's note: And here's the next part. A bit of a calmer chapter before the hurricane :P

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"Beneath the heart of darkness

Lies an old machine that's reeling

Forgotten dust and sunlight

Silent and removed from feeling

The peace in my mind is drowning, fading down

There's nothing left burning, it's all out"

'Beneath the Heart of Darkness' - Ed Harcourt

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Where am I?

The thought slowly filtered into Stanford's blank mind like grains of sand into an hourglass. Gradually, other senses joined the thought and they began to jog his sluggish brain into action. Something tickled his cheek, gently scraping back and forth as though to wake him. An odd mixture of half-whispered sounds accompanied the listless scraping. Muffled whistling from a tired breeze, the rustling of dry, reedy grasses rubbing against each other, and the dull roar of the ocean echoing faintly far, far beyond it all.

Stanford groaned, muttering a few earth and alien curses to himself. His head was throbbing against the confines of his skull with all the vigor of a child throwing a tantrum. The rest of his body didn't seem to be faring much better. He wasn't exactly sure how to describe his overall condition, save that he felt as though he'd had the entirety of his skin thoroughly scrubbed by very coarse steel wool, and his bones trampled over by some kind of six legged beast. Maybe even a herd of six legged beasts, he amended to himself as his right shoulder gave an especially painful twinge. After taking a few seconds to test his limbs a little and mentally assure himself that nothing below the neck seemed to be broken, Stanford clumsily bent his arm up to bat away at the irritating object still brushing against his cheek and then around to probe at the most acutely aching area of his body. The back of his skull.

Even his slight touch sent razor-sharp bolts of pain streaking down across the nerves of his neck and upper back, and Stanford couldn't stop a loud hiss from slipping past his tightly clenched teeth as the agony ran its course. He took a deep steadying breath and once again traced his fingers along the to the back of his head with a bit more caution. Stanford was only somewhat surprised to discover that the injury didn't seem to be bruised or bloodied. Given how badly it stung, he was expecting a couple of goose-egg sized lumps at least.

'Well since I don't appear to be hurt too badly…' Another tired, disgruntled groan eased out of Stanford as he debated the very appealing concept of just letting himself fall back asleep for… maybe just a couple more minutes? The more strict and sensible part of himself, however, the part that had allowed him to survive on the other side of the portal for so long while remaining relatively sane and unharmed, chimed in and shot the idea down almost instantly. As a general rule of thumb, sleeping wasn't allowed until he'd personally confirmed that he was in a safe place to do it in, and he had no real idea where he was right now. Stanford couldn't even remember how he'd come to be in such a state, though he figured the strangely aching spot on the back of his head probably had something to do with that.

Stanford wrestled for a moment against the unreasonably heavy and uncooperative curtain of his lids, before finally cracking open his eyes and taking a good look at his surroundings. An exhausted, irritated eyebrow started slinking its way up into his hairline. Oh goodie, just where was he now?

A dense and seemingly endless sea of wheat stretched out before him; slowly shimmering between dark, dingy amber and bright silver as they swayed lazily in the wind. Stanford turned his head slightly to gaze away from the towering grasslike vegetation closing him in on all sides, and up to the sky above. It was dim, not quite as shaded as twilight, but about as murky and lightless as a smokey November evening after a wildfire. A very muted, peach colored sun with a weak and hazy glow provided the only light for the area below. It was grey too. Actually, nearly everything around him was different shades, textures, and variations of dull, lifeless grey. The rough dirt beneath his cheek, the gloomy atmosphere, the tall wheat in front of him, were all confined between the strict hues of deep shadowy blacks to grimy dulled whites.

There were hints of brownish, sepia tones as well muddled into the world, ones that unexpectedly whisked Stanford back decades and decades. Back to Sunday nights at the Pines Family household, the smell of old metal and cigarette smoke, and the itchy feeling of stretching out flat on the shag carpeting far too close to their tiny TV. Bonding nights, his mother would call them, as she'd force her two boys to join her in watching some drama unfold on the 'Black and White Period Piece Old Lady Boring Movie Channel'. Being young boys as he and his twin were at the time, ones who much preferred high-stakes action and bright colorful cartoons to anything that boring old adults might like, they had usually ended up groaning unapologetically all throughout the first act. Then Stanford would fall asleep by about the second, and Stanley would start to be invested in the plot (to the point where his eyes would sometimes water, not that he'd ever admit to it).

A melancholy sigh slipped out into the still air as Stanford opened his eyes again to dispel the old recollection. It really was surprising, he thought, how much something as simple as just watching TV with the family could be missed.

Stanford allowed himself to just lay there blinking for a moment or two, once again brushing aside the strand of bent grass that had first awoken him and was now reaching down to scrape lightly at his glasses. He was more than a bit puzzled by the strength and the ease at which the memory had sprung to his mind. After all, it had been a long time since he'd thought about anything like that; about his family in general.

After his… 'fallout' with Stanley, the subject had become a sort of taboo for himself, a subject that needed to be set aside and ignored to better focus on his studies. That was something that hadn't really changed once he'd gotten engrossed in the mysteries of Gravity Falls, and had only been further reinforced when he'd fallen through the portal and had been swept far away from anything that even remotely resembled home. An odd sting of remorse ran through Stanford's chest at that, as he shifted his body into a slightly more comfortable position on the pebble-strewn earth. He gazed upward, passed the iron-colored tips of the wheat and to the smoky haze of the sky above, before slipping his fingers beneath his glasses and rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

He was… What had he just been doing again? Where was he? Another alien world? Another strange dimension, or altered form of reality?

A few drowsy, uneventful seconds passed. Then almost instantly everything came rushing back to Stanford. Bright bursts of disjointed images and mixed sensations blurred by so quickly and dizzyingly that he couldn't help but let out a small breathless gasp. A dam in his mind suddenly snapped open, sending overwhelming amounts of thought, emotion, and memory all flooding throughout every crevice of his still dazed brain.

Stanford abruptly shot upward in realization, ramrod straight, heart beating in an adrenaline-fueled frenzy against his ribcage. He struggled to get himself to a standing position for a moment or two, scrambling to his feet so quickly that his sense of balance couldn't quite keep up with him and nearly caused him to fall back flat on his rear. Twice.

"Stanley! Stanley!" Stanford hollered out a bit raspier than he's intended, the haze of white noise hanging in the air muting his call slightly. His eyes scanned wildly, darting swiftly back and forth as he took in his surroundings. From what Stanford could tell, he was standing in the middle of a familiar, waist-high, dingy, rust-colored wheatfield with smoky ashen skies stretching out endlessly towards the perfectly flat horizon.

That in itself wasn't too surprising given that these were defining features of his current mindscape; which Stanford now recalled as exactly where he'd been aiming to get to in order to escape the nightmare realm. As evident by the unfamiliar bits and objects scattered throughout the colorless field, however, it was also apparent that the world around him was more than a reflection of just his own internal reality.

Every thirty feet or so, tall dark pines ominously towered up out of the shining sepia-tinted grass, flickering slightly now and then as though composed of tightly bound, shadowy flames. There was something haunting about the oddly spaced forest, a foreign presence emanating from the silhouettes of its trees that made it seem aware of him somehow. A gathering of gaunt, wood textured wraiths all staring down upon him and watching his every move. Stanford couldn't help but feel somewhat boxed in despite their relative distance from him in the wide-open field. Captive. Trapped.

'No. I can't leave. I can't leave here. Not till I make sure he's safe. Not till I bring him back home. It's my fault he fell through the portal. I-It's all my… I won't… won't leave here till he's safe, no matter how long it takes. I won't abandon him, even if I'm just doing all of this for a corpse. Either I bring him back, or I die a lonely old man in this shack in the woods. I won't leave. I'm not gonna run away from this!'

Stanford stumbled a little, turning his head away from the towering shadows of the pines above to stare down at the flattened dark bronze wheat beneath his boots. The bitter sting of deep-seated guilt, hopeless acceptance of self-imprisonment, burning resolve, all surged so intensely and abruptly throughout his mind that he was physically stunned by the force of it.

These were his twin's thoughts and emotions that he'd just gotten a taste of, Stanford noted dully as he reached up to rub at his aching temple; that much was obvious by the mentions of the portal and the shack. However, it was a little bit of a surprise to him how closely the foreign feelings had echoed his own when he'd been frantically searching for his brother in the nightmare realm. You never really know someone till you walk a mile in their shoes, eh?

"Stanley!" Stanford tried again, cupping his hands around his mouth in an effort to make sure that his voice carried throughout the dim grassland. "STANLEY!" The only sound to answer him back was the hiss of wheat waving lethargically around in the warm, sluggish breeze. As the seconds of relative silence ticked on, the tempo of Stanford's heart started to increase slightly. A horrifying thought suddenly sprung up in his mind.

"No…" Stanford whispered hoarsely, craning his neck up in a futile attempt to see past the smoky white haze of the sky. "No, I couldn't have. I-I couldn't have left him back up there in…" His face suddenly drained of color as his voice trailed off into nothingness. Brown eyes darted down almost meekly, unable to continue even considering that possibility. Taking a deep breath, Stanford shook his head slightly, trying to dispel the icy wash of fear that had started seeping into his veins.

"No, no." Stanford's sharp denial was loud in the relative silence as he sternly admonished himself. He moved his coat back slightly and placed his hands on his hips in an unconscious imitation of his mother on the numerous occasions that she'd been in a scolding mood. "Come on Stanford, don't panic. Think logically about this. You were holding on to him when you went through the rift, remember. You grabbed onto him before you left the nightmare realm, and it wasn't till afterward that you'd lost your grip on him. That means he has to be down here somewhere with you, it's… i-it's just a matter of finding out where down here."

Besides, if Stanley wasn't down here with him then these dark trees and the strange feelings that accompanied them shouldn't have been either. That was proof enough. Really, there was no need to panic now. The most dangerous part of their escape had been making it out alive from the nightmare realm, and he and Stanley had already accomplished that. By comparison, the mindscape was a far, far safer place to be, especially now that they weren't likely to run into any troublesome dream demons meandering through the place. The fact that Stanley hadn't answered him when he'd called probably just indicated that his twin was either too far away to hear him, or was otherwise unconscious as he'd been when Stanford had seen him last. Aside from confirming that his brother wasn't in any mortal peril from that strangely glowing wound on his chest, one he must have received during his earlier scuffle with Bill, there was no rush, and no real need to worry. Nothing was chasing after him. He could take his time and think things through.

Feeling significantly calmer from his self-assurances, Stanford shuffled back and forth awkwardly in the waist-high grass for a few minutes furiously racking his brain. If he could get himself to remember the trajectory at which his brother had fallen away, he figured that he might be able to calculate where Stanley had landed and narrow the scope of his search significantly. Deep down Stanford knew that it was impossible to really locate anything in the mindscape like this, given its constantly shifting and reality breaking nature, but the familiar habit at least brought him some manner comfort and semblance of control over the situation. And hey, he sardonically snapped at himself, at least it would give him somewhere to start.

However, just as Stanford had decided on a direction to set off in and taken his first purposeful steps through the gently swaying wheat, something being carried on the warm breath of the wind caught his attention. It was a slight, almost inaudible gasping noise. Crying, he realized after a beat or two of struggling to identify it, and not just any kind of crying either. This was the soft, high pitched, hiccuping sound of a child crying, one who seemed to be trying their best not to be heard but couldn't quite help the racket they were making.

Stanford pivoted halfway towards the direction he'd heard the muffled sobbing and hesitated for a moment. The source of the noise wasn't immediately apparent as far as he could tell. Stretching out on every side of him was just more of the same empty rust colored plains, occasionally interrupted by the black body of a tall pine or indistinguishable bits of broken metal that could have easily come from either of the twins overlapping mindscapes.

The internal machinery of Stanford's brain was going at it again. He recognized the crying as sounding like Stanley's had when he was a child, but that didn't necessarily mean that it would actually be worth his time checking it out. If anything, that fact in and of itself should have cemented his resolve to ignore the noise as it undoubtedly had to be coming from a memory, and getting lost in that kind of recollection certainly wasn't going to help him find his brother any more easily. After a few seconds of thinking it through and debating with himself a little more, Stanford finally settled on the latter, and once again began making his way through the deep grass in the opposite direction of the quiet weeping.

He only managed to wade in a few more steps before an especially sharp wail cut through the murky air, causing him to flinch slightly and bringing him to another halt. Stanford gave a frustrated sigh as he looked back over his shoulder. He hesitated for a couple of seconds before sparing a moment to curse at himself under his breath, and giving into his piqued curiosity. Reluctantly, Stanford starting making his way towards the noise.

Stanford wasn't sure how to explain it, but as he trudged across the shadowy plain the sound of the crying seemed to wake up something odd inside of him; a compellingly strange mixture of curiosity and… and something else. The second emotion felt sort of similar to the ever-present homesickness that he'd endured while wandering throughout the multiverse in his thirty-year exile. There was an almost lightheaded wistfulness to the way it pulled at him, seeming to mute the constantly buzzing logic and calculated focus of his mind. Nostalgia was the only thing that he could compare it too, but even that didn't feel quite right.

Probably, Stanford mused grimly to himself, because anything that involved his brother had a tendency to unearth up whole caskets full of inconsistent and supposedly long-buried emotions within him. Like 'sort of protectiveness', and 'not quite guilt', and his ever favorite 'lowly simmering frustration'. The fact that it was obviously a much younger version of his brother making all this noise only made these phantom feelings more potent, and seemed to be resurrecting a part of himself that hadn't been present in his mind for almost a lifetime.

The crying gradually became louder and louder as Stanford drew in closer and closer, and after weaving around a couple of dark trees that had been obscuring his view earlier, he finally caught sight of the perpetrator.

It was a… a swingset. Two of them actually, crisscrossed one over the other. They were duplicates, twins, pulled from the same shared childhood. Even just gazing at them was enough to make Stanford hear the faint echo of high-pitched giggling, and feel a clammy, brackish breeze sweep across his face and twist through his hair. A soft orangish-pinkish hue started to color their metal frames before Stanford shook his head to refocus himself and dispel the oncoming memory.

Both swingsets were half buried in the dingy waist-high grass, but one stood taller and was in significantly better condition than its counterpart; almost appearing as an exact replica to what it had been in the past. Meanwhile the other was… well, it looked as though it was a miracle that the thing was still standing at all. It was old, dented, dilapidated, rusted over, and outright broken in some sections. The bent poles of its frame were completely overgrown by vines and choked by weeds, indicating that the playground equipment probably hadn't been used or even touched in a very, very long time.

Stanford felt something in his throat tighten uncomfortably at the sight of it. The better kept one he recognized well enough from his own mind on the occasions he'd gotten to see it. That meant that the swing set that was coming apart at the seams must have belonged to his brother, and Stanford wasn't entirely sure he wanted to understand the implications behind that realization.

The soft crying was still ringing out almost eerily from somewhere near the base of the more decaying metal poles, and like a moth to a flame, Stanford could feel himself being inexplicably drawn in by it. Creeping forward cautiously, though not all that silently, he inched nearer till he could just peek over the grimy bronze tips of the wheat. Slowly, the true source of the noise came into full view, and upon finally catching view of what he'd been tracking Stanford couldn't help but let out a disappointed sigh. Yeah, he thought sardonically to himself, that was pretty much exactly what he'd been expecting to find.

What was curled up and crying softly in the small crater of flattened grass just under the swing set was merely another memory; an exact replica of how his brother had appeared at around ten years of age in full color and unflinchingly accurate detail. The small boy was even wearing Stanley's favorite red striped shirt, which had been badly ripped from a bout of roughhousing and thrown out by the time the two of them had entered into fourth grade.

It struck Stanford as a bit odd that there didn't seem to be an obvious boundary to the memory, as some of the area around him probably should have been in color too. It was also strange he couldn't seem to recall himself when exactly this particular event was supposed to have taken place. But then, that was easy enough to explain away, wasn't it? Whenever this had happened it had undoubtedly been over fifty years ago at least, so it wasn't too surprising that he might not remember it. And as for the boundary, it was probably the small circle of wheat that the child was hiding in. It was even possible that the rest of it didn't contain color like the younger Stanley did because of how out of order things had gotten while their mindscapes had mixed like this.

Shaking his head slightly, Stanford was just about to turn back down the trail of flattened grass he'd made previously and continue with his search, when a young voice calling out to him suddenly stopped him ice cold in his tracks. He blinked once in surprise, and then twice, before slowly letting his gaze fall back down to the young boy huddling beneath the broken wooden seat of the swing set.

"Stanford?" The child shakily sniffed again as he stared up at the older man with large, watery, brown eyes. Stanley's small body had uncurled slightly, and he'd now turned around to face his brother fully. His tearstained face was about as guarded and disbelieving as Stanford felt his own must have been. A few seconds ticked by as the two of them started to recover from their initial shock, and after taking in Stanford's towering form for a second time, Stanley's expression suddenly broken out into a wide, ecstatic smile. His eyes lit up in bright sparks of childish delight as he shouted the name a bit more confidently this time. "Stanford!"

Stanley's small body instantly sprung up from his crouched position like a bouncy ball, before he bolted out of the circle of dark amber grass and dove face-first right into Stanford's unprepared knees. Stanford stiffened abruptly at the touch, his eyes widening almost comically behind the flashing lenses of his glasses as the younger boy nearly bowled him over.

"S-stanley!?" He barely managed to stutter out, staring down at the child gripping onto his pant legs below him in complete bewilderment. Stanford didn't understand this, any of this.

It wasn't the fact that he'd found his brother as a child that had startled him so badly. After all, this was the mindscape, so it was more a rule more than a rarity to stumble across ghosts from the past while wandering through it. No. What had actually alarmed him was the fact that the boy hugging onto his knees had not only taken notice of Stanford's presence outside what he'd assumed to be the perimeter of the memory, but had also just darted out of said parameter and was now physically touching him. From all of Stanford's previous experiences with the mindscape, he knew that this kind of awareness and interaction shouldn't have been even remotely possible. Memories were mere recordings of past perceptions, and all but set in stone like an old familiar movie.

As such, having one suddenly pop out and touch him was about as jarring and unsettling to Stanford as a character suddenly bursting out of a TV screen and giving him a friendly pat on the back. There was absolutely no way that this could be real, and yet, the slight pressure of the slim arms wrapping around Stanford's shins was undeniable. That could only mean that… but, no… How could that be possible?

"Ford! Ford I can't believe you're here!" The small child below him chatted on as he beamed up at his brother, seemingly oblivious to Stanford's own internal turmoil. Stanley's eyes were still watering a little, and his voice was slightly shaky. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! They left me; the other two just left me. I-I thought I was gonna be stuck out here all by myself forever. And… and…" Stanley's brows furrowed suddenly in a guarded confusion. "You're… not just another memory, right?"

Stanford shook his head hesitantly, still too stunned by whatever madness was going on around him to recall how to speak properly. Thankfully, the younger version of his brother seemed to take his silence in stride, and simply hugged his legs even tighter before continuing on anxiously. "I… I-I don't care. I don't care what you are. It doesn't matter. Just p-please, please don't leave me behind. Please don't leave me behind again. I-I'll do better this time, I promise. I promise." Stanley's voice faded as he pressed his face into his twins knees again, and his speech started devolving into a stream of murmured pleas and quiet apologies.

Stanford still hadn't the slightest clue about what was actually going on here. If anything, whatever nonsense the ten-year-old version of his twin had just spouted out, what exactly he'd meant by 'other two', had only deepened his confusion. The young boy below him wasn't a memory, that much was apparent, but he couldn't have really been the older Stanley either. While it was possible that Stanley's avatar within the mindscape had simply taken on a youthful appearance, it didn't really explain his childlike behavior or actions. The Stanley that he'd become familiar with once he'd returned from the other side of the portal was far too proud to ever reduce himself to the kind of honest to goodness blubbering that had initially attracted Stanford's attention, and he couldn't exactly picture the older man ever apologizing profusely into his kneecaps like this either. No, there was something else at work here, and Stanford knew that he wasn't going to figure out what that was till he stopped standing around like a dumbstruck buffoon.

"Stanley. Stanley, calm down." Stanford finally managed to choke out softly, offering the boy below him what he hoped was a reassuring smile in order to pacify his agitation. "It's alright. Come on now, do you really think I would have gone through all this trouble of rescuing you if I just intended to abandon you?"

Stanley looked up at him with wide eyes and hesitated, just for the smallest of moments, before shaking his head. A moment later Stanley's gaze hardened as he seemed to get a better hold of himself, and the results of his efforts made him look slightly older in spite the softness of his features. Stanford bit the inside of his cheek pensively as he noted this. He couldn't help but toss out another inquiry, just to be on the safe side. "So, you really are my brother then?"

"No. I'm Saunterblugget Hampterfuppinshire." Stanley snarked back, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Seriously Poindexter, did your glasses get messed up or somethin'? Who the heck do I look like!?"

Encouraged by his brother's quickly returning brashness, Stanford eased the child's grip from his legs and kneeled down to speak with him face to face. "Alright. Well, I've certainly seen stranger things in my time beyond the portal, so I suppose this is something I can accept. But it shouldn't be too hard for you to guess the reason why I had to ask that. Would you… mind telling me exactly what's happened to you? Why you're…um… well…" Stanford floundered for a moment, not quite finding the right words to say.

"Why am I a half-pint all of a sudden?" Stanley completed for him, before shrugging his shoulders and looking away from his brother in thought. "Beats me. I mean… I don't really remember much about what happened after Bill and I… we were… I mean, we went into the rift together didn't we?" The child scratched his head, before gesturing vaguely to their surroundings. "And now we're in the mindscape, I think, and I've got no real idea how in the world that happened, or…" He turned back to Stanford, furrowing his brows as he shot his brother a puzzled glance. "What you're doing here exactly…."

"I followed you into the rift right before it closed." Stanford explained. "And after I found you, I managed to get the two of us out of there by entering into the mindscape."

"…Really? But-But I don't…." Stanley was muttering almost more to himself than the man before him. He stared at his brother in complete bewilderment for a few long moments, before folding his small arms in front of his chest and shooting Stanford an oddly skeptical look over. "Why? I mean, why'd ya come after me?"

Stanford froze a little at the question, not really understanding what his brother was supposed to be getting at. Now it was his turn to stare back at Stanley in confusion. "Well… I… what kind of question is that?" He shot out a bit more sharply than he'd intended, brow rising into his hairline. "Isn't it obvious?"

Stanley's gaze fell away from his brother and back down to the ground. He kicked slightly at the ashen dirt sending a small puff grey of dust flying up into the air, before answering uncertainly. "…No."

As soon as the softly spoken word had escaped from Stanley's lips, the whole of the mindscape around them gave a tremendous, teeth-rattling shudder. Instincts kicking in, Stanford quickly lunged at his brother's small form and held tightly onto him as the ground beneath them started bending and swaying wildly. The inky bronze field of wheat all around them waved and rolled several feet above their crouched bodies in a mighty earthquake that resembled a colossal swelling of ocean water. Tall pines that had circled the clearing, as well as the metal frames of the swing sets, were all sent flying up into the hazy grey air. As the seconds ticked by, the trembling all around them only seemed to grow more violently intense, and Stanford's stomach started clawing its way up to his throat. He couldn't help but close his eyes to brace for the impact that he was sure would follow this sudden surge of chaos. Stanley gave a small yelp as his brother's grip around his shoulders constricted severely.

Then, like a light switch flicking off, everything suddenly stopped.

Something cold and stringy swayed to a halt as it brushed up against the top of Stanford's head, and was quickly followed by little bits of what he assumed to be rocks and dirt showering down upon his back. Tentatively, Stanford cracked his eyes open once more and found himself looking at a series of long black tree roots hanging just above his head. Looking out beyond that, the destruction all around them was almost breathtaking. The trees, bits metal, and everything else that had been forcibly shaken up into the air was still hanging there, suspended as though caught in the antigravity field of the portal. A few of the floating objects were now rapidly spinning or twitching about, almost spasming in pain, and some of their shapes were twisted unnaturally or outright clipping through other objects. Random patches of blank, blinding white had badly marred the surface of the smokey grey sky making the view as both brothers gazed up more than a little terrifying.

"Woah! W-what the heck was that?" Stanley squeaked, shakily pushing himself away from his brother as he finished taking in the damage for himself. Stanford managed to barely stagger up to his own feet, his younger twin having to catch him a little as his unsteady legs tried to buckle beneath him twice, before answering him uncertainly.

"I-I… I'm not quite… Oh." Stanford's eyes widened suddenly, realization hitting him like a glass of ice water to the face. He groaned and slowly dragged his hand down across his jaw in frustration with his own lack of foresight. "Oh of course! I can't believe didn't factor that in earlier!"

"Eh? Mind explainin' what's happening for the rest 'f us, Poindexter?" The young boy below Stanford chirped up at his brother in a 'not so odd for Stanley' mixture of genuine worry and teasing sarcasm. "Just 'cause we're in the mindscape doesn't mean I know what's goin' in that big head of yours any more than usual."

Stanford's voice nearly shot up a frantic octave as he rapidly tried to explain the gravity of their current situation. "Look Stanley, we don't have time for this right now! The mindscape is an infinite series of pocket dimensions meant to act as a separate reality for each individual whose mind it's currently reflecting. However, the ratio is usually supposed to be maintained at one person per one pocket, meaning tha-"

"Hey!" Stanley interjected testily. "Could ya slow and maybe dumb it down a notch for those of us who don't speak nerd?"

"In layman's terms," Stanford continued on, barely missing a beat. "it can't support the strain of two minds inside a single chamber. When we passed over from the nightmare realm into this dimension, we entered in through the same door, at the same time, and apparently into the same pocket. The fact that our minds were transported here together seems to be creating an instability, as quite obvious by our surroundings." Stanford gestured at the writhing disaster floating just above their heads. Worry caused the lines on his face to deepen severely as he gazed up, and his voice when he spoke again turned low and grave. "I fear that if we don't remedy this situation soon that instability could cause the whole of the space we're in to collapse on itself."

A beat of tense silence passed between the pair before Stanley decided to break it with a rather unhelpful observation."… Ya know, ya didn't really dumb it down all that much."

Stanford whirled on his brother, using his height to his full advantage as he shot down an exasperated glare. "Stanley-Oh for goodness sake! We have to get out of here quickly or else we are going to die. Is that simple enough for you?!"

"Yeesh." Stanley balked impishly, holding out pacifying hands in contrast to his brother's tightly balled fists. "Ya can tone down the sarcasm a smidgen. I didn't say I didn't understand ya, just that you didn't really explain it all that well."

Stanford allowed the tension in his shoulders to melt slightly before releasing a heavy sigh and reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose."Just… please." He beseeched, waving vaguely at his brother's small body. "Briefly explain whatever you last remember happening so I can figure out how to fix you and get both of us out of here."

Stanley frowned a little at his brother's request, his previous confidence quickly draining away from his expression leaving uncertainty and fatigue in its place. Somehow, it had the effect of making him look both younger and older at the same time.

"Sorry. I didn't mean…" He murmured quietly before giving a small shake of his head and apparently thinking better of it. "Nevermind. Ok, soooo… I remember goin' into the rift, then pretty much nothing 'cept lots of black storm clouds and everythin' bein' really fuzzy. Then I was-I mean, we were fallin' in like a really crazy whirlwind or somethin'? And I-I kept feeling really, really awful, like I was breaking apart at the seams, or like parts of me were being torn off a-and left behind." Stanley shivered and hesitated a little here, hugging himself tightly as though he was trying to hold his body together

"And then what happened." Stanford gently encouraged. Taking note of his brother's growing distress, he kneeled down on the flattened grass once more so that the two of them were at eye level.

Arms still folded defensively, Stanley continued nervously picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of his shirt for another moment or two before quietly resuming his story. "Then there were two others… parts of me. One was…well, he didn't seem like he was doin' too hot. I… I don't know. He wouldn't wake up no matter what we tried, and we tried a whole lot of things. I-I'm not really sure what was wrong with him. And the other one…." A dark look flashed across Stanley's young face. There was a sudden somber weight to his voice that hadn't been there previously, and the abrupt transition caused an ominous chill to seep its way into Stanford's blood.

"He was in a lot worse mood than usual. I think because of the whole Bill thing. He wasn't too happy about the choice that the other one made. I guess I can understand why, but… I just wish he wouldn't get all scary like that."

"All scary like what?" Stanford asked hesitantly, his own unease spiking at the mention of the dream demon's name.

Stanley closed his stance slightly and seemed reluctant to meet his brother's eyes. He shrugged his shoulders almost dismissively. "He got real frustrated and dragged the other one into the shack. Said that he was gonna 'take care of him', but I'm not sure what he really meant by that. I don't think it was anything good."

A jarring thought suddenly occurred to Stanford as he was kneeling down in front of his brother. Stanley jumped as he prodded at his chest, but Stanford ignored him and his frown deepened as he felt a mixture of both distress and wonderment. The glowing fracture that had been prominently displayed on Stanley's chest, had completely vanished. Stanford's mind wildly put together the pieces of the puzzle, and finally, he grasped the gravity of his revelation. The fissure on his chest had broken, and literally caused Stanley's soul to splinter apart.

Stanford closed his eyes and released a heavy sigh, bemoaning whatever cruel grudge that fate had apparently taken up against them. Of course, something like this would happen. Of course, Stanley hadn't been able to endure the transition into the mindscape. Of course, he'd split apart into three separate pieces. Of course, those separate parts were now apparently fighting amongst each other. Of course, the mindscape was further collapsing in around them every second they stayed in here. His luck had been unceasingly abysmal ever since he'd entered through the rift, Stanford mentally snapped to himself, so why should that suddenly change now.

"Sorry."

Though the apology was softly spoken, it sounded quite loud compared to the relative silence hanging around the two brothers. Stanford's eyes flew open as the quiet word brought him out of his own internal musings and back to the present. The younger Stanley stood meekly before him, a troubled and somehow much older expression etched almost unnaturally upon his features.

"I know I should'a done more to stop him, but I… I-I don't know…" The boy trailed off in a frustrated self-reproach before giving the dirt below him a weak kick.

"No, no, it's alright." Stanford assured tiredly as he shook his head. "Don't apologize. It's not you, it's just…" He fixed the younger boy with an almost helpless look. "So, what you're saying is… you're actually just one-third of my brother."

The portion of Stanley he was speaking to offered a small nod at this, and Stanford's eyes trailed regretfully to the rust-colored wheat below. Guilt was making it difficult for him to meet his brother's gaze.

"You'd degraded so much while in the nightmare realm," Stanford continued on quietly as he looked down, seeming to be talking more to himself that his twin. "I was afraid that the journey to the mindscape would be rough on you, but I never imagined that it would cause something like this. It should've occurred to me that…."Stanford closed his eyes briefly, resisting the urge to internally curse at himself before letting out a long exhale. He finally looked back at Stanley again and offered him a small smile."Well, I guess it's too late for regrets now, isn't it? We'll just have to find the other two parts of you and… I suppose find a way to put you back together somehow so we can get out of here."

Stanley didn't say anything back at that, but he did at least return the smile and give a small nod of approval.

"Actually, since we are in the mindscape," Stanford added on suddenly, eyes brightening a little as a realization just now dawned on him. "I think that all we'll need to do is imagine a doorway out, and we should be able to make it back to the real world." He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "Just like that."

"Sounds like a plan to me, poindexter!" Stanley chirped as he shot his brother a toothy grin. "So we should start heading to the shack then?"

"Yes. That would be prudent." Stanford agreed, pushing himself into a standing position again. "Do you have any idea where it is in here?"

Stanley nodded before pointing out to something on the horizon to their left. It took a moment for Stanford to figure out what his brother was trying to direct his attention towards, but once he saw it he couldn't help but want to facepalm in frustration with himself. Of course, he actually had seen the shack when he'd woken up in the mindscape and taken his first good look around, he just hadn't recognized that he'd seen it.

From what Stanford could see now, the shack, unfortunately, seemed to be suffering just about as much as the rest of the mindscape around them. The building was of course normally a bit on the worn and slightly splintery side, even in the real world, but it's condition in this black and white wasteland seemed to be exponentially worse. It was patched together with repeating steeples and windows that clearly didn't belong, severely tilted to the side, and balanced in a way that shouldn't have been physically possible on one of its corners. From a distance, its basic shape didn't even resemble the shack's in the slightest, and what was more was that the whole of the bottom tip of the building was either half buried or half clipping through the ground. Meanwhile up near the top, inky black shingles and brightly shining, iron-grey planks of wood were hanging chaotically in the smoky haze just above the horizontal tilt of the roof; suspended in a mess of debris that vaguely haloed the building like a flat ring.

All in all, it was an unpleasant sight to behold, and beyond unsettling. Or, at least, it certainly was to Stanford. His brother on the other hand…

"Ha, race you there!" Stanley called enthusiastically back at his twin, not even sparing the decayed husk of the shack a second glance as he darted off wildly into the thick wheat.

Stanford just stood there for a moment, still too stunned by the condition of the shack to react to his twin's recklessness properly. After finally managing to gather his wits somewhat, he barely had time to holler out a combination of protests and curses before he was forced to jump back into the field himself. It was all he could do to blindly stumble after his brother in order to avoid losing him. Being as small and quick as he was, Stanley was able to disappear almost completely underneath the shimmering waves of grass. That meant the only real ways for Stanford to get a fix on his location was through the trail of flattened wheat he was leaving in his wake, or the sound of playful giggling that occasionally filtered up from somewhere in the shadowy amber field around him. Unfortunately for Stanford, Stanley seemed to be having a grand old time racing in aimless circles around his older twin, leading them both into a rather pointless game of cat and mouse.

"Stanley! Stanley, wait! I can't see where you've gone." Stanford shouted out into the murky air, more than a bit breathlessly after having to high step through the tall wheat for several yards. He crouched over, placing his hands on his knees and panting for a moment or two.

Stanford wasn't actually tired of course. This was the mindscape, and his physical body here wasn't bound by the same laws that governed it in reality. However, he figured that putting on a show of fatigue might make his brother a little more sympathetic, and thereby help to draw him back out into Stanford's line of sight.

"Come on." He tried again, groaning a little for dramatic effect. "I'm getting to be an old man. Go easy on me."

His gambit seemed to work as Stanley bounced out of the grass over to his right, letting out a little whoop before falling back beneath the sepia-hued shimmer. "Over here, ya old fogey." He called out, raising a hand above the tops of the wheat a few seconds later so Stanford wouldn't lose sight of him again.

Stretching out his back and smirking a little at his own craftiness, Stanford meandered his way over to the wiggling fingers at a much more comfortable pace than he'd been going before. He had to struggle to resist the smile that was trying to tug at the corners of his mouth upon reaching his destination and spying the little troublemaker staring oh-so-innocently up at him with big brown eyes. Stanford steeled himself, folding his arms deliberately in front of his chest and shooting his brother a stern look.

"How about we stick a little closer together from now on. Hmm?" He chided lightly, before offering out a hand for the boy to take.

Stanley's brows rose skeptically as he gazed upon the new limit being imposed to his mischief, but nevertheless, he reached out to accept it. Just before their hands touched, however, he hesitated, eyes widening and sparking up suddenly with excitement as though something brilliant had just occurred to him. A very impish grin spread across Stanley's features as he stared up at his brother and gave him a knowing look, and though they might have been twins, it took Stanford a few moments to decipher what exactly was meant by it.

"No." Stanford adamantly refused, completely stone-faced once he'd figured out what was being silently asked.

"Aw, come on."

"No."

"It'll be fun."

"Absolutely not."

"Aren't you the one who doesn't want to lose track of me?"

"Yes, and that can be achieved just as well by you taking my hand."

Stanley offered the older man another taste of his big brown eyes and toothy smile, clasping his hands in front of him as he begged. "Pleeeeease."

Arms crossed and staring out into the field beyond them unrelenting, Stanford stood there stubbornly for a few more seconds, determined not to give in to his brother's childish request. Of course, that was far easier thought than done. Almost without his permission, his gaze started slipping back down to his twin's pleading expression, and he couldn't help but feel something in his chest give a little at the sight of it. After rolling his eyes and releasing a heavy sigh of exasperation, Stanford finally relented and bent down onto one knee. Stanley gave a triumphant cheer, not wasting any time before grabbing at the folds of his brother's coat and scrambling up onto his shoulders. Once his twin was securely perched up there, Stanford reluctantly drew himself back to a standing position.

"Woah wicked!" Stanley exclaimed enthusiastically, putting a hand up to his forehead and taking another look at the dirty bronze plain around them now that he had a much higher vantage point. He started bouncing up and down slightly on his new seat, barely able to contain his excited energy and causing Stanford's shoulders to give a painful twinge in response. "Check me out Ford, I'm even taller than you now." He chirped, beaming down at his brother.

"Yes. So I've noticed." Stanford grumbled back with far less energy. He grabbed hold of the boy's dangling legs and stepped out once again into the wheat field to resume their journey through the mindscape.

"Onwards, Nerd-a-saurus Rex!" Stanley boldly pointed out to their destination with one hand and grabbed at Stanford's messy mop of greying hair with the other. "To the shack!"

"Ow! Stanley, if you're going to do something like that then grip onto my shoulders instead." Stanford scolded from below. He did his best to bat his twin's small hands away from the top of his head. This only seemed to encourage Stanley further, as he soon after reached down to cup his hands playfully over the older man's glasses.

"Guess who."

A frustrated groan escaped from between Stanford's clenched teeth. Looking out into the slivers of dusky grey mindscape peeking out from between the dark lines of his brother's fingers, he could still sort of make out where he was going. Having to work around the obstructions, however, was pretty annoying and not something he wanted to do as the traveled across the whole field. Attempting to force his own digits beneath his brother's, Stanford started to pry the small fingers away so as to avoid tripping over something. "Stanley, I already know that it's you. Let go. I'm not going to play this game."

"Really Ford?" Stanley complained, countering Stanford's efforts to regain his sight surprisingly well for having such tiny hands. "Who are ya tryin' to impress here? There's no one else around besides the two of us. Nuts to dignity and all that junk. Just enjoy yourself a little. Come on, make up something fun for me." Stanley made his request again, fingers tapping mischievously across his brother's spectacles to the Jeopardy theme. "Guess who I am."

Stanford walked on in silence for a few moments, doing his best to stubbornly ignore his brother's antics while navigating through the gloomy wheat field with his now very limited scope of vision. Then, finally giving in to the amused smile that had been trying to wrestle itself onto his face for the last couple of minutes, he shot off a teasing retort up to his twin. "Hm. Let's see. Are you an annoying pest?"

Stanley took the insult in stride, and in fact seemed more than a little proud of it. "Ding, ding!" The boy smirked back. "That's correct. Your prize is absolutely nothing. Well, except maybe getting your sight back." He amended after a moment, removing his hands from his brother's face.

"I appreciate it." Stanford hummed duly. Unfortunately, he barely got any time to relax before something else out to their left seemed to catch his brother's attention and caused him to start bouncing up and down on the older man's poor aching shoulders again.

"Whoa, is that the … the Stan O' War!?" Stanley shouted quite loudly next to his brother's ears. Stanford couldn't help but wince slightly as he reached up to rub at the side of his head. Looking out to where the younger boy was pointing he managed to spot a stony-grey wooden structure that indeed appeared to be a run aground, very large replica of the remains of a ship. It was undoubtedly the one the two of them had come across while exploring a sealed off cave when they were kids, the one they had soon after claimed as their own and spent most of their childhood refurbishing. Stanford stared at it wistfully, only for a moment as the smell or saltwater and saw dust permeated the air. But just to give his awful luck consistency it proved to be a moment too long. The distraction provided by the flood of memories and the sight of the ship gave his younger twin all the time he needed to start causing trouble again. Stanford only barely had enough time to bark out a string of protests before, with little to no warning, Stanley hastily began scaling down the back of his trenchcoat and hopped down onto the ashen dirt below with a slight thump.

"Stanley, what are you-"

But Stanley had already dashed off into the shining waves of grass before Stanford got the chance to complete his sentence. Muttering an especially fitting curse under his breath, one that he had managed to pick up while traveling through dimension 54, Stanford set off after his brother into the field and towards the towering hull of the Stan O' War. Having a pretty sizable head start, Stanley managed to reach the ship first and slammed into its side with his arms spread wide open, laughing a little as he gave the wooden structure in front of him a big splintery hug.

"I-I can't believe it!" Stanley exclaimed, brushing a few of the grey slivers of wood from his cheek. A wide grin stretched across his features as he pulled back a little to stare up at the hulking form before him. "I haven't seen this old girl in my mind in foreeeeeever. Not since… Well, my other selves didn't ever want to think about it after that happened."

Stanford jogged up just behind the younger boy, slowing to a walk as pulled near the Stan O' War and next to his brother. He stared at the ship above him for a moment, a somber nostalgia tightening something uncomfortably in his chest, before hesitantly reaching out to touch at the dully shining steel colored planks. It felt surprisingly solid under his fingers as they traced along the rough grain of the wood, not nearly as unstable and degraded as most of the other structures in their combined mindscapes appeared to be. Well, not any more than it was when they had originally found the aged remains at least. The hull was a lot larger than the ship had been in real life, stretching almost twenty feet lengthwise from the stern to where it broke off in the middle, but otherwise, it looked almost exactly as it had when they were children. Even down to the inky black lettering of the name scrawled in Stanley's familiar messy handwriting.

"They didn't like it anymore." Stanley continued on quietly to himself as he stared at the ship in front of him, suddenly looking very sad, and very alone. He didn't react at all to the questioning glance that Stanford shot in his direction, and indeed, seemed almost completely oblivious to his brother's presence a few feet to his right. "They thought that it was just a… a symbol of hopelessness or… or just garbage from the past that didn't matter. A stupid dream."

After a few moments of silently gazing into nothing, the dark look on Stanley's face hesitantly melted into an uncertain smile. He turned his head upward to take in the whole of the ship, and a couple of low thumps echoed throughout the hollow wooden hull as he gave it a loving pat. "But… I don't think that at all."

Without wasting another second, Stanley sprung up from the ashen ground and started climbing up the hull of the ship. Once he reached the banister he pulled himself up and over, and landed lithely on the creaking deck. He turned back down to look at Stanford and gave him a small salute while grinning wildly. "All aboard the Stan O' War, the most powerful ship that ever did sail the mighty Atlantic. We'll give all ya survey scallywags who try to take our treasure a taste of our cannons." Quickly hopping up to the top of the cabin to get an even higher vantage point, Stanley ducked partially behind the mast and started making small sound effects as he pointed gun shaped fingers in his brother's direction. "BOOM! WOOSH! KAPOW!"

Try as he might, Stanford couldn't quite stifle the amused chuckle that was bubbling up in his chest as he watched younger boy's antics.

Seemingly encouraged by his twin's smile, Stanley beamed brightly himself and vaulted back down to the deck. Bending over the banister, he reached below and offered Stanford a hand. "Hey Ford, come on up here and join me!"

Stanford spared a glance at the outstretched limb before folding his hands behind his back and shaking his head in the negative. "Hm. Tempting as the proposition is, I think it'd be better if you came back down and we continued onwards to the shack. We still need to gather up your other selves so we can fix you up and get out of the mindscape, remember."

Stanley's smile slowly fell away at that. He withdrew the offered hand and turned his back to Stanford, gazing up at the mast towering high up above them. A hushed quiet stretched between the two for a few long moments, only broken by the sound of the tattered sail fluttering gently in the weak breeze. Patience wearing thin, Stanford was just about to speak again when his brother's soft voice echoed faintly out into the smokey grey sky.

"Can't we just stay here forever?"

Stanford furrowed his brows and hesitated before answering, confused by the odd question. "No." He stated simply, after a beat. "As I said before, this pocket dimension is highly unstable and possesses a very limited lifespan. It will collapse in on itself if we linger here too long."

Once again, Stanley didn't respond immediately. From what Stanford could see of his brother's silhouetted back, outlined by the dull glow of the grimy orange sun, he looked tense and pensive; almost lost in thought. The seconds ticked by, on and on, before finally, after almost half a minute of uncomfortable and sullen silence, Stanley spoke up again.

"Would it really be so bad if we played around here for just a little while?"

"We can't afford to waste any time goofing off like this." Stanford denied unrelentingly.

Another awkward hush passed between the pair. Even the sound of the slowly flapping sail stilled and died off into the thick white noise of the hazy air around them. When his brother still refused to turn around and face him, Stanford looked away over to the chaotic mess of the shack, and let out a tired sigh.

No one would ever accuse him of being an idiot, and he wasn't. He understood perfectly well what this was actually about. It was just that… it wasn't something that he really wanted to tackle. There was more than a little unresolved business between the pair, after all; old and festering feelings of hurt and betrayal that had never really been addressed for either of them. Digging up all of that was going to be a long and painful process, and it was something that neither he nor his brother were all too eager to get to. Given that truth, it wasn't hard to guess why Stanley was so attached to this place in particular. Times had been much simpler back when the only thing they'd ever really argued about was what design they were going to put on the flag of their ship.

Allowing the hard edge in his voice to ease up slightly, Stanford offered up a hand to his brother's back and gave a quiet response to the true nature behind Stanley's questions.

"Things change Stanley, whether we want them to or not."

Stanley finally turned his head around and gazed dejectedly down at his twin. A very haggard, very world-weary, and very jaded sigh eased out slowly from his small frame, sharply contrasting his youthful features. So much so, that when combined with the dim orange light of the setting sun flooding across half his face, it had the effect making him seem almost ageless in a way. Stanford's brow inched up into his hairline as he observed the strange transition, but it wasn't long before a small smile returned to the child's face again and washed away the decades that had been trying to creep into his expression.

"Yeah." Stanley agreed quietly, taking the offered hand and clambering down. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Sorry… I just- I-I guess I missed this… it a little." As he brushed off some of the silvery splinters on his jeans, Stanley shot his brother a puzzled glance and changed the subject slightly.

"Where do ya think this one came from anyways?" Stanley motioned to the old boat. "I mean, the other two parts of me kinda… burned ours up. So I don't really know how it could have been fixed up like this."

"Burned it?" Stanford questioned in mild concern, before continuing on with his best guess. "Well, this Stan O'War in particular seems to be an exact replica of the one housed in my mindscape, so I would assume that it came from there."

"From… yours?!" Stanley's eyes widened suddenly. "But I thought you… Wait, wait, wait!" He shook his head slightly. "If something is in your mindscape, then that means that it's gotta be real important to ya, right?"

"That's correct."

Stanley stared up at his brother, mouth hanging open slightly in complete bewilderment. ."Then…" He continued after a beat. "I don't understand. Why would this be in your mindscape?"

"What do y- " Stanford tried before he was briskly cut off.

"I mean, you abandoned this." Stanley gestured out wildly to the Stan O' War, almost seeming angry now. "You… you didn't want it. I've accepted that. You were always really focused on bein' smart, and gettin' recognized, and figuring out all those nerd theories and whatnot. And… and I get it, alright. Why would ya wanna waste your time travelin' around the world with your brother, when you could go to a big important school like West Coast Tech instead and make a name for yourself."

Stanley paused in his rant for a moment, gazing away into the empty field beside them more than a little bitterly. "Lookin' back, I… I can't say I'm surprised that ya ended up choosin' that. So, that's why it doesn't make any sense for…" His brow furrowed as though something had suddenly occurred to him, and he looked back to Stanford almost cautiously now. "Maybe… I mean, does that school take up an even bigger area in your mindscape then, or somethin'?"

Stanford stood there blinking for a minute or two, completely thrown for a loop by his twin's intense interest in the subject. "No it- It doesn't take up any room in my mindscape at all that I'm aware of." He managed to stutter out. "Is this really such an important line of questioning at this point in time?"

Stanley's young face was oddly guarded and unreadable. The piercing way that he was staring up at his brother made Stanford feel as though he was being examined under a microscope. "Well… Yeah….." He muttered lowly.

The world around them gave another tremendous shudder just as Stanley trailed off. It started out as it had before, with the sepia-tinted field rolling like the waves of the ocean on every side of them, but that only lasted a few moments before the violent intensity of the shaking skyrocketed. A deep and distant roar rose so powerfully up from below them that it made the soles of their feet tingle. Patches of the dark earth began bursting out jaggedly as the ground around them split apart at the seams. Wide, yawning chasms cracked all throughout the plain as though it were shattering glass. Clumps of rust-colored wheat were sent flying up into the hazy air by the severe tremors before glitching out into strangely twitching, polygonal shapes.

Stanford stared out in horror, so transfixed by the devastation going on around him that he didn't notice the black patch of earth that suddenly erupted out from underneath his own foot. A sharp cry rang out into the dark dusty air as he started falling backward into one of the gaping cracks in the ground, and Stanley instantly raced across the short distance between them. He grabbed at Stanford's legs, struggling to help brace him up. The two stayed like that, eyes tightly closed and fiercely gripping onto one another, till the trembling finally died down a few moments later.

Stanford was breathless, heart pounding wildly in his chest as he stumbled back. His twin crumpled down to the earth beside him sending up a puff of dark ashen dirt as he landed. Both of them were panting heavily as though they'd just run a marathon race.

"Stanley look." Stanford gasped, shakily running a hand through his hair as he tried to collect himself again. "Whatever's bothering you about the Stan O' War being in my mindscape, it doesn't really matter. We have much more pressing issues that we need to focus on right now."

Stanley glared up at his brother, pouting a little between his gasping breaths. "But I don't-"

"Now!" Stanford's eyes flashed as he snapped impatiently.

The younger boy flinched slightly at the shout, but Stanford turned away and paid that no mind. Quite frankly, with the whole of the mindscape falling down around them he had a lot more important things to worry about than something as trivial as one-third of his brother's hurt feelings. Taking a deep breath, Stanford visually sized up a wall of upturned earth standing between him and the shack, before dashing up to the ledge and quickly vaulting right over it. He couldn't see Stanley from behind the obstacle, but he soon heard the telltale patter of his twins small feet racing up to his own position, and the boy darted over the wall a few moments later.

Looking out at the ominously disjointed building that served as their destination, Stanford noted that the two of them had thankfully already traveled across most of the dark amber field in their earlier unhurried pace. There wasn't much farther to go now. Taking a breath to prepare himself, Stanford began sprinting forward quickly, assuming that his brother would follow behind him. A silent tension born from the older twin's frantic determination and laser-guided focus permeated the air as the two brothers darted through the rest of the ruined wheat field.

Stanley was struggling to keep up with Stanford's much longer stride, as evident by his heavy breathing, but he didn't ask his brother to stop or slow down. Stanford thought that it was either because he wanted to hurry forward as fast as possible too, or, more likely, because he didn't want the older man to start shouting at him again.

Going at full speed, the two of them actually managed to break out from the tall, dark bronze grass and into the imposing shadow of the shack in fairly good time. Before he knew it, Stanford was struggling to get up the tilted wooden steps of the grey front porch. He managed to grab onto the splintering door frame of the front of him at the same time that Stanley made a little noise of distress behind him. Looking back to see his brother's small legs continually slipping down the steep incline, Stanford sighed quietly before reaching out to take his brother's hand and helping the boy up. As difficult as it was to navigate on the outside however, the angled slope of the shack seemed to right itself completely as soon as they both entered into the swirling inky gloom hanging just in the doorway.

Not that it's going to be of much help, Stanford thought to himself as he took in the nightmarish, twisted discord of the shacks interior. Eerily floating exhibits from the Mystery Shack's showroom, sparse planks of drifting wood that were probably supposed to belong to the floor, random assortments of various doors both blocked off and left open, and other objects that Stanford couldn't quite identify, all hung suspended in a bottomless void of pitch black stretching out on every side of them.

"Where did you say the other two ended up going in here?" Stanford directed the question vaguely to where he thought his twin was beside him, somewhat distracted by the slowly gliding series of shining silvery stairs out to his left.

"I didn't." Stanley answered briefly, shaking his head a little."I just saw the scary one draggin' the other one to the buildin'. I've got no clue where they might've gone to after that."

Stanford finally finished his gawking and turned to face the small boy. Crossing his arms pensively, he hesitated for a moment as he attempted to dispel a bit of uneasiness that was beginning to take root in his mind. There was something about all of this that had been bothering Stanford for a while now, and he felt compelled to get to the bottom of it before continuing any further in.

"Stanley." Stanford started abruptly, but as he noticed his twin flinching a little in response to his harsh tone he couldn't help but pause. Releasing a somewhat self-reproachful sigh, he made an effort to soften his voice and the hard expression on his face slightly before he spoke again. "You implied earlier that the 'scary one' was going to do bad things to the 'sleeping one'. What did you mean by that?"

Stanley looked meekly away from his brother at this. In an almost defensive gesture, he shoved his hands deeply into his pockets before shrugging his shoulders and offering up a quiet answer. "He just… he seemed really angry. He's always angry, but usually the other one tries to keep him on a pretty tight leash. I think he resents the other one for that. He's always accusing him of bein' weak, and a loser; thinks that everything that goes wrong is always the other one's fault…." Stanley trailed off slightly.

A worried frown etched its way onto his features, and his voice softened to the point that it was little more than a whisper "Now that the other one's at his mercy, he… h-he might try and… I don't know." The young boy looked back up at his brother, and Stanford couldn't help but notice the sudden spark of raw fear in those coppery brown eyes. "He may hate all of us, but… even he wouldn't try and do something as crazy as that… right?"

"I'm… not sure I follow you." Stanford responded slowly, struggling to interpret what his brother had meant by all of that. After a moment he stopped himself and shook his head, deciding to let the matter slide and just figure out the situation for himself later.

"Alright, alright." He tried again. "You know what, here's a better question. Since we're trying to find the other pieces of you, why don't you tell me what to you represents a…" Stanford paused as he gestured vaguely to the air. "A secret place in your mind. A place that you would go to if you wanted to hide something important."

Stanley's brows furrowed as he thought the question over for a few seconds. At about the same time that he looked back up at his brother with a knowing smile quickly springing onto his face, Stanford's own eyes widened in sudden realization, and they both ended up shouting out the answer at roughly the same time.

"The basement!"

"The basement, of course!"

"Wicked!" Stanley cheered, pumping a small fist up into the air as he shot his brother a toothy grin. "To the gift shop then, let's go!" And with that he started enthusiastically leaping down a nearby set of hovering stairs, his earlier distress seemingly all but forgotten.

Stanford swiftly followed after his twin, having next to no idea how to navigate through what was obviously Stanley's portion of the mindscape himself, and not wanting to get lost. The levitating floorboards creaked ominously under his weight as he descended down the steps a little more carefully than his brother had, but thankfully he didn't have to go very far before he caught up with him. Stanley had ended up leading them into a rather closed off hallway, and several of the floating displays from the museum had bunched up in there like a clogged pipe. The largest among them was the slate grey taxidermy bigfoot that Stanley was currently doing a very poor job of trying to slip past. A small smile struggled to lift the corners of Stanford's mouth again as he watched his twin grunt in frustration and wiggle around it for a few moments, but he did his best to cover up his amusement with an exasperated sigh. Of course, he thought, Stanley would just charge in head first while apparently forgetting that this was the mindscape they were in, wouldn't he.

"Gosh, this place is a mess!" Stanley griped loudly. He was attempting to squeeze himself between the ape-like creatures stuffed arm and the wall behind him, but the gap provided didn't seem to be quite large enough."Kinda reminds me of the-urk cleanup we had to do after all of that gravity anomaly junk with the portal."

Ah, Stanford thought, gravitational anomalies. Now there was an idea. A few moments later Stanley paused in his wrestling match with the piece of taxidermy and stared up at his brother almost completely dumbstruck. Stanford for his part, was effortlessly floating towards the ceiling as he aimed for a large gap placed quite high in the mess of debris.

"That's so cool!" Stanley cheered, eyes practically sparkling with excitement. "How are you doing that?"

"This is the mindscape remember." Stanford chided as he gracefully pushed himself through the gap and out to the other side. "It's not bound by the same laws of physical reality that our world is. You just need to imagine something and it will happen."

"Oh, riiiiight." Stanford heard his brother's muffled answer from the opposite side of the clutter. He turned back to look at the jumbled pile of museum exhibits and inched towards it slightly, attempting to peek through one of the gaps and see what his twin was up to. "So say if I imagine something like, oh I don't know, a soda jetpack…"

Stanford made a slightly concerned face at the suggestion. "Well, I think that might be a little-" He tried to retort, but was interrupted by a series of loud bangs that nearly sent him jumping ten feet into the air. The sprawling mess before him was abruptly blasted aside as bits and pieces of it were sent wildly bouncing off the walls. His brother burst through the mess like a bullet from a gun before the fizz from the bottles of soda strapped to his back finally died out. He skidded to a halt on the wooden floor a couple yards away from where Stanford was ducking to avoid getting hit by any loose debris and shot his brother a cheeky grin over his shoulder.

"Pretty neat, huh Ford!" Stanley exclaimed. "It's like I'm rocket man, but way, way cooler!"

Stanford sighed and ran a hand slowly over his face, waiting for his heart rate to drop back down to reasonable levels. "Yes, yes. That's very nice." He offered, kicking aside some sort of horrifying turkey creature that seemed to be frankensteined together before trying to get them back on track again. "Now, we were headed to the gift shop I believe."

Stanley hummed in agreement and then pivoted around in his spot a couple of times while his eyes darted between the surrounding doors. "There we are." He finally chimed after a moment. Darting out a few meters to reach the door handle, Stanley wrenched it open dramatically to reveal the grimy and colorless room of giftshop beyond. "Ta da!"

Smiling slightly at their progress, Stanford made his way over to the entryway of the gift shop that his brother was standing in front of. As he passed by several of the closed doors that lined the hallway, he couldn't help but noticed that more than a few of them had been boarded up and sealed off.

That in and of itself probably wouldn't have bothered Stanford so much if it wasn't for one barricaded door in particular. Shimmering golden light seeped out from the cracks between the wood. A word coded in the caesar cipher was scrawled in thin black lettering just above its frame.

KRSH

Stanford felt something tighten uncomfortably in his gut as he walked on past the door. His eyes were drawn away from the word etched above it and down to the light flickering out from the bottom gap like the weak flame of a candle. Just as it had been before with the swing set he'd run across, Stanford wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to understand the meaning behind the boarded up door. The golden glow almost seemed to dim slightly as his creaking footsteps drew further and further away. It probably wasn't really his business anyway, Stanford justified to himself.

If Stanley noticed what had temporarily caught his brother's attention then he didn't comment on it, and after Stanford reached his twin the two of them passed through the open doorway and into the dimly lit gift shop.

Stanford's eyes were almost immediately drawn like a magnet to the secret entrance that led down into the basement, but upon seeing the condition of the vending machine that served as its door he paused. His whole spine abruptly stiffened in horrified shock. The snack dispenser wasn't on the wall where it was supposed to have been, and instead sat in a wreck near the corner completely ripped off its hinges. The metal frame had been severely bent and twisted into a nightmarish shape, one of its lights still flickering hauntingly in its carcass. Glistening bits of shattered glass mixed in with the various grey bags of snacks and candy bars to form a mess of spilled innards that were spread out below the machine.

"Wha-What happened here?" Stanford managed to stutter out. His brows furrowed deeply as he shot his twin a wary look, more than a little alarmed by the ferocity of the destruction. "Is the entrance to the basement always like this in your mindscape?"

Stanley's eyes darted down as he stubbornly refused to meet his brother's gaze. He seemed to shrink a little in a sudden guarded anxiousness. "No. It isn't."

"Then why-"

"I told ya that he was angry, didn't I?" The boy muttered quickly, cutting Stanford off. "He's always doing stuff like this when he thinks the other one isn't looking. He seems to like it when things are wrecked and hurting. Says it's what we get for bein…"

Stanley hesitated for a moment. His eyes seemed to water slightly as he stared down at his feet. "for bein' weak." He finally finished despondently.

Stanford's hands clasped nervously behind his back out of habit as his gaze drew away from Stanley's sulking expression and out at the ruins of the vending machine. The same nagging suspicion that had been bothering him earlier was now returning in full force, and he couldn't help but want to voice that theory.

"Stanley, are you sure that this 'scary one' is actually part of you?" Stanford questioned delicately, as he turned to his brother again."You seem to behave as though you're familiar with him, but you have been through quite a lot in a relatively short amount of time. Has it occurred to you that you might just be a little confused about all of this?"

Stanley blinked a little in surprise before offering a puzzled look up at the older man. His voice was uncertain. "What do ya mean?"

Stanford gave a slight sigh, biting the inside of his cheek and wringing his hands a little behind his back as he explained his theory. "It's just that he seems awfully… hostile to the other parts of yourself. Back when we were in the nightmare realm, I was so focused on breaking open the doorway to the mindscape that I wasn't really paying attention to what was going on around me. I thought I was being careful to make the hole only small enough for the two of us, but it's possible that something might have slipped through just as we did." He gave the boy below him a meaningful look. "Perhaps one of those creatures is what caused you to tear apart when we were descending, and is what's now holding your other half hostage."

Stanley didn't answer back at first, his expression unreadable as he gazed up at his brother. A beat passed before a worn and strangely sarcastic smile began stretching across his face in a way that, once again, seemed to age him decades.

"You… heh." He started, choking back an almost bitter chuckle. "You really don't know me at all, do ya poindexter."

For a few long moments, Stanford studied the child in front of him very closely. He was part of his brother; part of his twin. Supposedly, Stanford was the person that should've been able to understand his brother better than anyone else in the universe. But as he thought back to the broken swingset, the boarded off door, and now the ruined vending machine in front of him, Stanford began to seriously question just how well he actually knew his brother, and… how much of that ignorance was his own fault.

"… I." Stanford tried, but whatever words he was searching for wouldn't come to him. He stared despondently at the entrance to the basement, guilt creeping up within him like a heavy sludge pooling in the bottom of his lungs and making it difficult to breathe. Shaking his head slightly, Stanford harshly shoved aside the phantom emotions and set his face into a determined grimace.

"Well, I suppose we'll never figure out what's really going on by standing up here forever." Stanford was almost speaking more to himself than his brother. He reached out to take the younger boy's hand. "Come on Stanley, let's get to the bottom of this. Literally."

As he tried to grab at his brother however, Stanley shook him off and briskly stepped away, his posture closed off and guarded. Stanford might have been a bit hurt by the reaction if it wasn't for the way his twin's gaze kept frantically flickering to the wrecked vending machine and then back down to his own shoes. His eyes seemed to be shining with a cold and desperate fear, and it wasn't difficult for Stanford to guess why.

Stanford shook his head to dispel his own nagging sense of foreboding before walking purposefully over to the basement entrance. When he didn't hear his twin following behind him, he shot the boy a sharp glance over his shoulder. "Let's go. We don't have any time to waste."

Stanley hesitated for another moment, looking back at the doorway and out to the rest of his mindscape, before making a small, distressed groan and tentatively shuffling over to his brother. His small fingers wrapped themselves tightly in the fabric of the older man's pant leg, and Stanford lightly placed his hand on the child's back, hoping the gesture would provide some form of reassurance.

Stanford's eyes hardened with a cold conviction, his glasses flashing briefly as he tilted his head and looked down into the unnatural, pitch-black darkness at the bottom of the stairs where the elevator should have been. His chest rose as he took in a deep breath, and then, steps creaking ominously beneath him, Stanford Pines descended down into the basement, one-third of his twin trailing reluctantly behind.