Author's note: Only one more chapter after this to tie up the loose ends. We hope you enjoy it and love reading all of your awesome reviews and theorizing ;) Thank you all so much!
"What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt"
'Hurt' - Johnny Cash
Black churning surf pounded against the shoreline beside them, sending a spray of salty mist up into the early morning haze of the air. Two figures faced one another on the edge of the infinite, lightless ocean, one towering over the other, raw savage power emanating from him like a primal force of nature.
The cracked pieces of shadow surrounding his brother's second fragment, one by one, fell away from his hulking form and crashed in large hunks to the black shore below. Each dark smoldering flake, its intangible nature violated by a combination of the mindscape's unreality and Bill's chaotic energy, struck the ground as heavily as though it were a dense chunk of volcanic glass. Sprays of onyx sand flung outward from the points of impact, creating a mess of craters at the creature's feet that could have put the scarred surface of the moon to shame. A thick haze of sparks, smoke, and skin-searing heat flowed up from the debris below, distorting the silhouette of the dark fragment so badly that Stanford couldn't quite distinguish his form. He didn't bother waiting around for the air to clear and reveal it to him.
He turned around, and ran.
Heart thumping like a jackhammer in his chest, feet sinking slightly into the black sand as he struggled to dash forward, Stanford tore along the length of the beach. It was all that he could think to do. 'A tactical retreat' was how he frantically justified it in his mind. And… maybe, he would admit, maybe the fear creeping up the nerves of his spine was getting the better of him. But in this situation, it would be beyond foolish not to be afraid! After all, Stanley had to have absorbed a tremendous amount of energy in order to have sealed the rifts between the various dimensions like he did, and if even a small fraction of that power remained in him, then there was absolutely no way Stanford would be able to stand against it. If he tried to take the fragment on in his current form, he would lose against that raw force of power and wrath as badly as a kite would lose in a fight against a hurricane. And the consequences of that failure would either forfeit his own life, or his brother's or, most likely, both.
And really, what else was there for him to try? What else could he do? He'd already attempted to reason with his twin, and that method had fallen flat on its figurative face. He didn't seem able to connect with him on an emotional level either, for whatever reason, no matter how hard he'd tried. He hadn't even been successful in taking Stanley down through force while the playing field had been relatively fair between them, and not horribly skewed by the power his brother had stolen from the ever thorn-in-his-side Bill. Stanford had failed using every method he could think of, and the situation had now turned too disastrous for him to see anything even resembling a clear solution for it. He wasn't even sure that running would do him any good, aside from delaying the inevitable for a little longer.
His frantic dash along the shoreline, along with his despairing musing, were abruptly interrupted as his foot caught itself on a splintering chunk of the Stan O' War that he'd been too distracted to notice sticking up out of the beach. Stanford gasped in shock as the sharp wood tore at his pants and cut through to his skin; his knee, already strained by the damage it had received from Bill's lumbering associate back in the nightmare realm, gave an especially agonizing twinge. It was enough to cause him to stumble and nearly lose his balance, but thankfully he was able to quickly right himself before his body was sent careening into the dark sand.
Despite the way his legs were now quaking painfully below him, Stanford didn't stop to collect himself for more than half a second. The thundering roar and teeth-rattling tremor that resounded from somewhere uncomfortably close behind him ensured that. He didn't even turn around to glance back and confirm whether Stanley's fragment still had the presence of mind to actually pursue him, or whether the man had been completely stripped of anything aside from violent and directionless rage. Stanford's breath hitched slightly at the thought before he continued limping off as fast as he could, sand spraying wildly behind his retreating form.
As he ran across the monochrome beach, it seemed familiar somehow. A sudden dim realization occurred to him. If the portal room had been the heart of his brother's mindscape, then he instinctively knew this dark and misty recreation of Glass Shard Beach to be his. It was the first sounds and feelings he'd really been aware of when he'd awoken to the sight of the sepia-toned grass with an acute ache in his head. The soft roaring of the ocean in the distance. The brackish wet chill in the air. The crying of gulls far up above.
Stanford could only guess, but... when the center of his brother's mind had been splintered apart by his out-of-control emotions, the mindscape might have defaulted to depositing them all here as a replacement. Like a program that had its core file deleted mid-operation pulling up the most similar one it could find to avoid an error message. Or maybe... maybe his own panicked thoughts and emotions had unconsciously drawn them all here in a desperate bid to regain some amount of control over the insanity of his current situation. Unlike the slight disadvantage he'd had on his brother's home turf, the foundation of his mind should have been a place completely under his authority.
Stanford didn't feel very in charge. Though this was the heart of his mindscape, he didn't even have the slightest clue where he was going. He hadn't darted away with any specific destination in mind aside from putting as much distance between himself and the monstrous fragment as possible. But really, what he needed right now was a quiet place to collect his thoughts, so that he could maybe figure out a way to contain this disaster before it got any worse. Because that was what Stanford did best. He didn't 'just wing it', he planned, and as long as things went according to his plans, he almost always succeeded.
In fact, Stanford mused grimly, now he thought back to it, his biggest mistake had probably been jumping straight into the nightmare realm after his brother like a reckless idiot. Stanford Filbrick Pines was better than that. He was a genius in more ways than one, and he knew not to let his emotions take hold of him in crisis situations. He should have waited. He should have come up with a plan beforehand, and then found some way to go after Stanley. He'd already built an interdimensional portal once for crying out loud, he could have done it again and then pursued his brother fully prepared for the curve balls of the nightmare realm and with an array of proper tools at his disposal. This whole mess, going into the mindscape at all, could have been completely avoided if he'd just…
The dark, churning sea beside Stanford rolled in on itself and crashed powerfully against an outcropping of rocks right as he was sprinting past, and he cursed breathlessly as a wild shower of foam and salty mist drenched his side with ice cold water. The clammy wind blowing in over the ocean and tugging insistently at his hair and coat did a good job of digging its fingers into his now damp clothes, chilling him to the bone despite the heat he was working up from his run. Smoky drops beaded on his glasses, obscuring his vision, and Stanford did his best to wipe the condensation away without slowing.
But then…. his Journals had been burned to a pile of ash, hadn't they. He didn't have the blueprints to the machine memorized. And even if he had found some way to make the portal again, if he had rebuilt it, would he actually have risked tearing open another rift and undoing his brother's sacrifice in the hopes of saving him? Would Stanley have even survived long enough in his present condition, and with Bill and his goons out for his blood, for Stanford to have reached him in time?
Was there really anything else he actually could have done, any easier path he could have taken, or had this endeavor been doomed to failure from the very beginning? Maybe the two of them were just cursed.
A patch of something dark blue suddenly popped up in Stanford's peripheral vision, and it immediately caught his attention in the monochrome palette of the mindscape. After a second of hesitation, in which he weighed his desire to keep putting distance between himself and Stanley against his desire to find a place to stop and rest, he altered his trajectory slightly to get a better look at it. It was a long and wavering gash of sapphire, framed on its outer edges by thin strands of frayed reality whipping about wildly in the cool breeze. As Stanford approached, slowing his pace to a light jog, it became a lot more obvious to him that what he was looking upon was a jagged tear that had formed in the fabric of the mindscape. No doubt a result of the immense strain currently being put on it by his brother's failing mind. But what was on the other side of this fluctuating rip? Stanford wasn't sure at first. It obviously wasn't the same cracks of bleached white nothingness that marred the skies above, and from what he could tell by just peering through it, there looked to be another beach like this one contained within; a beach lit by the dim rays of a low riding crescent moon. It must have been a displaced memory of some sort, Stanford finally concluded as he stopped a few feet away from the tear.
Another inhumanly low and deafening roar echoed through the mindscape around Stanford, causing him to flinch slightly as a thrill of fear to crept up the back of his neck. Immediately snapping back into attention and taking a breath to steel himself, he finally spared a swift glance over his shoulder to try and catch sight of his brother's former fragment. What he saw caused his heart to skip a beat, and his face to drain of color. The dark shape had apparently now finished gathering his bearings and had taken note his twin's absence. He was barreling towards where his brother stood at near breakneck speeds, closing the distance that Stanford had put between them in less than half the time it had taken him to make it.
Stanford didn't waste another second before tensing his muscles and diving full bodily into the tear. As he passed through the frayed boundary separating memory from mind, the unnerving sounds, ceaseless shaking, and terror-inducing energy of the crumbling mindscape around him, all seemed to fade away to a muted whisper. As his shoulder slammed against the far more course and pebble-strewn sand of this beach, they disappeared entirely. The now black and white rip in the memory sealed behind him completely, as though it had never been there in the first place. Stanford waited another moment for something else to go wrong, for the boundary to suddenly split open again and deposit the shadowy mass of his brother's second fragment right on top of him, but thankfully nothing like that happened. Save for the sound of ocean waves lapping against the shore, the night was around him was comfortably quiet.
Stanford drew in a slightly hesitant breath of something that wasn't quite relief, in the situation he was currently in that concept seemed little more than a fever dream, but it was… close. He had some room to think now, at the very least…. in wherever this was.
Some unpleasant thrill of foreboding started squirming in Stanford's gut, and he had to force himself to calm back down and get ahold of his emotions. Slowly standing up again, and absentmindedly brushing off the sand that now clung to his wet sleeves, Stanford finally took in his surroundings. The memory, images of a trash-strewn beach and a choppy ocean shimmering under a dark moonlit sky, the feelings of a lonely, uncanny tension that hung in the still air, belonged to Stanley. Stanford was fairly certain of that, he had no recollection of the small cove he was now standing in. He turned around even further to look at the small, dimly lit town behind him. Though, where his brother was located in this memory remained to be see-
"We have the same eyes."
Stanford jumped a little as a low, weathered voice creaked out from a previously unassuming pile of beach junk. A moment later part of the jumble clattered and moved, and a pair of dark, tired eyes flashed up at him in the dim moonlight.
"Oh, sorry." Stanford murmured in relief as he identified the frail old man sitting before him as part of the memory, and not someone, something, coming after him. "I didn't see yo-"
"Huh?" Another, familiar voice, this time from startlingly close behind him. Stanford jerked his head around and spotted a much, much younger, he couldn't have been any older than eighteen, version of his brother standing a few feet away from him, the backdrop of faint lights from the town behind the teen casting a soft yellow glow across his slicked back hair. Stanford logically knew that this Stanley was only part of a memory, a mere recording of times long gone. Yet his heart gave a painful twinge of an emotion that he couldn't quite place as he took in the sight of his brother, whole, unharmed and human.
Stanley's posture was slouched and yet slightly closed off, one hand tucked into his jacket pocket in an attempt to ward off the chill of the night, and the other grasping onto the handle of a metal detector that was haphazardly slung over his shoulders. He was staring right through his brother as though he wasn't actually there, and in a surreal way, Stanford supposed he wasn't. Stanley eyed the old beach hermit with raised brows as though he hadn't noticed the man's presence here at first either.
"Where you headed off to?" The vagrant asked, shifting slightly so that the clumped strands of long dirty hair framing his gaunt face fell back slightly, and revealed a worn scowl. He seemed to send Stanley an appraising look of his own as the took in the teen's appearance. "Nowhere in particular, I'd imagine."
"Uhhh…" Stanley glanced around the cove. "You talkin' to me or somethin' old man?"
"No one else around, is there?"
The teen rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly more than a little put off by the odd conversation being struck up with this random stranger. "So… you look like you've been livin' on this beach for a little while now…" He started awkwardly, and shrugged a bit as though the question he was asking was more for the sake of formality than because he actually expected a helpful answer. "Ever seen any World War two kinda, old-timey safes laying 'round here?"
The hermit made a disinterested grunt at Stanley's question. A collection of glass knick-knacks (were they bracelets perhaps?) hanging off from the rusted metal remains of a buoy sitting behind him started chiming against each other as a cool breeze kicked up. He reached up and rearranged them to stop the racket before absentmindedly answering. "What would you want something like that for?"
"Hmm? Oh, uh, ya see…" Stanford couldn't help but smirk nostalgically as he watched his brother screw his face up into a confident grin as he quickly scrambled to make up a rather unconvincing lie. "I'm… part of this archeology group. Ya know, for museums and all that. And… uh, I heard about this old navy wreckage that might contain parts of this exhibit thing…."
Stanley's easy grin and false bravado fell away so suddenly at the hermit's stoic glance, that his twin was forced to do a bit of a double take to make sure that he'd seen correctly. Something unspoken seemed to pass between the pair, and despite his best efforts, Stanford couldn't quite read it. "Look," the teen spoke again in a more subdued tone after a moment of oddly heavy silence, "some guys back up at that bar on Second street were chattin' all night about figuring out how to open this safe they found, and I thought maybe I'd try and loot it first before they got back here. If you'll help me find it, I'd be willing to split the profits with ya 80-20."
The old vagabond stared at his brother for another moment or so before turning himself around on his worn blanket, and going back to his previous task of gazing bleakly out at ocean beyond. "The sun's gonna start rising in about an hour or so." came his quiet mutter as the wind finally died down a little.
"… Uh, yeah, it will. That's kinda why I need to hurry up and find this thing before those other yahoo's show up." Stanley rearranged the metal detector to a more comfortable position on his shoulder before jerking his thumb back. "Whaddya say, up for some treasure hunting?"
The hermit rubbed his grimy hands together to warm them but otherwise said nothing back at first. It didn't matter. It seemed pretty obvious to Stanford that he wasn't even slightly interested in the offer anyways. His posture was loose, weary, and unconcerned, not that of a man who was ready to go romping around the beach in the middle of the night. And what was more was that he appeared… sickly. The crescent moon hanging in the starry sky above, and reflected back in the choppy waters below, cast a sallow light on the tattered man that made him seem almost spectral; an old drawing of a human who's charcoal lines had been worn too faint to see clearly. Behind him and the burdens of his travels, a massive, tangled mess of dark shadows stretched out sharply onto the course beach.
"This is my favorite time to be awake. Everything's somber and quiet, and the whole world feels like it's empty, like the night's holding its breath and waiting for day to finally wake up again. You know the sun's gonna rise in the end, but everything around you is so dark, that there's always that little bit of doubt in your mind you can't quite shake. What if the day never comes? What if this was your last night, and it's over now?"
Stanford swallowed slightly as something uncomfortable and heavy coiled at the bottom of his chest. The melancholy musings had struck a little too close to his own fears at the moment. Almost unconsciously, he took a step nearer to his brother's avatar in the memory.
"Yeah, that's um… pretty grim and whatnot." Stanley agreed from over Stanford's shoulder, tone a bit clipped. "Is there a point you're tryin' to get at here?"
The hermit didn't turn around. His shoulders hunched slightly, and the moonlight shining down sharply defined the bony ridges of his spine through his thin shirt. "I've been living on this beach for a while now, and the only people I ever see wanderin' around aimlessly at this hour are the kind who don't have anywhere better to be. Lonely folk who ain't got a home to return to, or a family wonderin' where they are. But you seem a little young to be in that situation, so I have to ask." His weak, raspy voice suddenly morphed into something that gratingly cut through the night air in an uncanny mixture of dark humor, and something that was almost genuine concern. Almost, but not quite. He finally glanced back at Stanley, eyes bright. "What exactly are you doin' out here, at this time of night?"
The teen bristled a little defensively, though he didn't seem nearly as disturbed by the old man as Stanford felt he should have been. "I could ask you the same question."
"Hmm. I think our answer would be the same then." The vagabond nodded to himself, grimly satisfied, before changing the subject. "The ocean's kinda eerie looking in the dark, isn't it."
Stanley raised his brow skeptically before looking out into the waters as well, and Stanford noticed the impatient scowl on his face softening into something slightly more introspective after a few seconds. "… Yeah. I guess a little."
"If we had any sense, we would stay far away from it. The sea has a habit of swallowing up people like us."
Stanley's gaze reluctantly shifted away from the churning sea and over to the hermit, tone puzzled and incredulous. "Whaddaya mean 'people like us', we just met."
The man turned back to Stanley as well, and though the long lines that marred his expression made him appear exhausted, the eyes boring into the teen from behind the curtains of his matted white hair were bright and unsettlingly intense. Stanford felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he realized that he recognized those eyes from somewhere. The wearied bitterness, the burning hatred, the guarded dismay, it reminded him a bit of… a certain pair of glowing orange pupils.
"I mean people who don't really have a place in this world." He murmured hoarsely, a bleak smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "The ones who come into it unexpected, unwanted, overshadowed, and who are just as likely to leave the same way. People whose ambitions aren't strong enough to carve a mark that will be remembered, whose desires are simple, and yet, something they can't ever achieve. No one mourns our deaths, and we're not entirely sure that we want them to anyway. Because we don't mourn them either."
Stanford glanced back over to his brother, his chest constricting painfully upon noticing the very open fear that flashed across Stanley's young expression. "No, I… I'm not like that." The teen shook his head and took a step back, voice cracking slightly as he denied his companions assessment. "I'm just out here to find a fortune so that my old man will be satisfied. Then my family'll forgive me, and everythin' will go back t-… to normal."
The hermit paid his brother's distraught protests no mind, and hummed wistfully, despondently, out at the sea. "They're waiting, ya know, the others like us who never should've existed; they're waiting for us out there in the ocean. They know we're going to join them eventually." His bright eyes seemed to dim and glaze over slightly, and Stanford wondered, not for the first time, if the old man was actually all there. "Perhaps we should go out and greet our fate sooner rather than later, avoid some unnecessary heartbreak before the end."
Stanley finally seemed to reach an appropriate level of freaked out for the situation and lost his temper, snapping harshly at the man. "Will you stop talkin' like that. Get ahold of yourself already!"
"Exactly!" Stanford chimed in, though he was well aware that his approval was falling on deaf ears. He smiled proudly at Stanley and moved out of the way, more for the sake of avoiding the disheartening sensation of someone walking through him than out of any technical necessity, as his brother tossed the metal detector to the ground and swiftly closed the distance between himself and the grim-faced vagabond. The proud smile lessened slightly as Stanley abruptly grabbed a fistful of his weathered shirt, tearing it around the collar, and the older twin couldn't help but worry for a moment that his brother was going to try and beat up the homeless man. Thankfully, that didn't seem to be the case, as he merely forced him to his eye level so he could fix the full weight of his burning glare upon him.
"Don't be sayin' things like that, alright." The teen insisted stormily, though his voice was soft and strangely empathetic. "I don't know what your problem is, but that's no way to go about fixin' it!"
The hermit, however, was unmoved, and merely stared back at his brother in a blank, only half aware despair. It was obvious that he was someone who'd already given up a long time ago. Stanley seemed to realize this after a moment, the dark, lifelessness of the older man's gaze draining away the ferocity of his own expression, and he lowered the man back to the ground. The teen's brows furrowed in something between doubt and dread as he sent the old man one final meaningful look, before his eyes gradually sunk down to the moonlit, opalescent sand below. The sea faintly crashed against the shoreline beyond, the only sound that filled the quiet of the cool night air.
Stanford nervously rubbed his hands behind his back and glanced between the two, not liking the direction that this was heading. For what felt like hours to him, though it probably only dragged on for a few minutes, a thick, suffocating hush hung itself ominously over the small cove like a hangman's noose. Stanford was tempted to start talking himself, for the sake of his own sanity if for no other reason, but just as he opened his mouth to do so the silence was thankfully broken by the croaking voice of the old hermit addressing his twin.
"If you were to just disappear off the face of the earth right now, could you say with any confidence that you'd be missed by anyone."
"My brother, Stanford." Though he didn't lift his head to look back at the man, Stanley's response was still automatic. Stanford might have found that more heartening if hadn't mirrored the younger fragment's earlier confidence in him almost exactly.
"I see." The drifter murmured vacantly after a contemplative pause. "And do you think your brother is out there somewhere looking for you right now?"
That got Stanley to finally look back at the man. "Well I… no," he admitted uncomfortably before shifting his stance away. He hastily threw an excuse behind him as he bent down to retrieve the fallen metal detector. "He's, um… h-he's probably busy right now. Picking out other colleges, or maybe writing a letter to West Coast Tech explainin' what happened or somethin'." Though the hermit couldn't see it from his position, Stanford got to watch as his twin's face screwed up into a sorrowful grimace before shifting to something more defiant, resentful, and frustrated. He propped the tool back up on his shoulder and gave a dismissive shrug. "Beats me."
The old man fixed his brother's back with a knowing look, stare still dull but uncannily piercing all the same. "Tell me, if something really matters to you, and it goes missing, how long do you wait before beginning to search for it?"
Stanley's posture stiffened. "It-…Things between us aren't that simple-"
"No, you don't wait, do you." The ragged man interrupted. He reached over to carefully wrap his fingers around one of the glass bracelets hanging on the structure behind him, gazing at it almost longingly. It was the first real hint of emotion Stanford had seen him express so far. His words slurred slightly as though exhausted by whatever burden his heart was carrying. "If they have a choice, then no one would put off looking for something that's truly important to them. You start looking for something as soon as you lose it, and the more you value it, the longer and harder you're willing to search. Because if you don't know where that something is, then you don't know what might be happening to it; and the longer you wait, the higher the chances are that it might get destroyed, or ruined, or stolen, or worse." He ran his fingers lightly across a crack that marred one of the beads, his mouth falling back to an empty scowl before he tucked it possessively away into his pocket. "If you're not around, then you can't prevent its mistreatment."
Stanford's hands clenched tightly behind him, and his eyes tore away from the image of his teenage brother to stare out at the small town faintly glowing in the distance. He was suddenly finding it very difficult to look on as his twin's young body tensed defensively, his expression saturated with something akin to hurt. Was this why his brother was so doubtful of his intentions, why he had such a hard time believing that Stanford truly cared about him? He supposed that it did make a disturbing amount of sense. After all, Stanley admittedly had ended up spending close to thirty years searching for him. But back then, back here when he guessed this memory took place, even knowing somewhat that things hadn't been going well for his twin, how long had Stanford spent searching for him? Simply put, he hadn't; not until he himself had needed Stanley's help. He'd considered going after his brother several times, had almost driven off to do so twice during an especially slow semester at Backupsmore, but… something had always held him back. Pride, anger, the fear that it was already too late to fix things between them, a burning desire to strike out on his own without having to worry about anyone slowing him down or ruining any of his other projects, a distracted mind filled with wild dreams of other worlds. Yeah, lots of… somethings.
And how badly had his brother been hurt because of this? Because when he'd needed it, no one had rushed to his aid? Because when he'd been lost, no one had searched for him? Because… he didn't think his life was important, that it truly mattered, to the people he cared about most?
If the second fragment's words and scorching wrath were anything to go by, then pretty badly.
Stanford's attention was drawn back to the scene before him as Stanley dramatically whirled around to face the old man, his jaw clenched in a poor attempt to hide the fear coloring his expression. "No! You don't-" He started, before pausing as he realized that he was shouting. The teen lowered the volume of his slightly hoarse voice, jabbing his thumb angrily at himself as he spoke."Look, I'm the one who screwed up, ok! I ruined his future. I'm the one who has to make things up to him. Alright. He- I'm the last one who should be holding a grudge against him if he doesn't-" Stanley looked away as he suddenly cut himself off again, eyes shining with what his twin feared were barely restrained tears. The wind on the beach picked up once more, filling the small stretch of silence with the sound of tinkling glass and Stanford's fluttering trenchcoat.
A steely temperament began to settle over his brother's face, but even with the pale moon clearly lighting his features, Stanford couldn't quite decipher what the emotion was. It didn't really seem pleasant. "He doesn't owe me anything." Stanley continued quietly after a beat.
"Stanley." Stanford whispered sadly, forgetting for a moment that this was a memory as he drew close and tried to put a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. "I… I didn't mean-It's not that I-" He flinched in surprise as his arm passed right through his twin, as though a cold mist was slipping through his fingers, as though he were a ghost. Or maybe, Stanford thought glumly as his brother took no notice of his presence, and guilt twisted itself like a knife in his gut, maybe it was he himself who was the ghost here; a phantom of apologies and sentiment coming forty years too late.
"It's not about owing anyone. I… you're important to me. You're very important to me, Stanley. I should have searched for you."
The hermit stared at Stanley for a little longer before shrugging indifferently and shifting his tired gaze back out to the open water. There was the slightest hint of purple creeping up onto the horizon. "Hm. If that's how you really feel," he clicked dryly, "then you should stop staring out at the ocean with sad eyes like mine. It makes you look like someone who doesn't care whether or not they live to see tomorrow."
Stanley let out an uneasy breath before nodding in acceptance of the man's words and reaching into his jean pocket to fish out a couple of crumpled ones. "It's kinda cold out here." He murmured, roughly shoving the change into the hermit's callused fingers and doing his best to try and cover up the kindness with his usual gruff tone. "Why don't ya go up to the docks and buy something warm to drink."
In a move that somewhat surprised both brothers, the old man spared the money a disinterested glance before shaking his head, and quietly handing it back to up to Stanley. After a moment of hesitation, his brother's eyes flashing with a mixture of sorrow and understanding, he reluctantly accepted, and stuffed the bills back into his pocket. Then, in a move the seemed to surprise Stanford alone, his brother set the metal detector off to the side, and sat down next to the dirty vagabond. The pair didn't need to say anything more to each other, and didn't even glance over to acknowledge the other person's presence. They just… gazed out at the rolling sea before them, watching silently as the first pink hues of dawn started melting into the sky above, and was reflected back by the water below.
Stanford wasn't sure what to make of this. It bothered him that his brother, his eighteen-year-old brother, could so easily understand and relate to this old, despairing, hollow shell of a man. It shouldn't have been this way. The hermit was half crazed and utterly hopeless, and… not like Stanley at all. He wasn't.
Stanford moved to walk over in front of the pair so that he could see for himself what expression was settled onto his twin's face. He had to know if Stanley's decision to sit here with the old man had been out of pity, or because he felt him to be a kindred spirit, or maybe his brother was just really tired and not thinking clearly. However, just as his back had turned towards the warm light of the rising sun, and he looked down upon Stanley's tired, and yet smiling and oddly content expression, he was caught off guard by the memory of his brother staring directly back at him, actually seeing him.
"He found you." The teen muttered. And that was all the warning that Stanford received before the memory around him started shaking so violently that he toppled over and was sent sprawling into the pebbly shoreline. A near deafening, ripping noise painfully screeched throughout his skull, and the sound scrambled his senses so badly that he didn't notice the long, midnight black fingers reaching for him through a new monochrome tear in the mindscape; not before it was too late. They wrapped themselves savagely around his waist, hot as metal under a summer sun, and Stanford was forcibly dragged out of the memory, abruptly flung back to the dark, crumbling shore that his brother's fragments were lost, dying, and raging within. The frayed rip immediately closed back up just inches away from his horrified face as he flew away from it.
He was sent crashing face down into the beach, thrown hard enough against the ground that the air was completely choked from his lungs. His glasses were nearly knocked off from his face and lost to the black sand. He gasped sharply, limbs trembling and vision spinning wildly. For a moment, it was all that Stanford could do to just gather himself up and kneel there spluttering. Small vibrations pulsed through the older twin's bones as few more tremors shook the mindscape around them.
Stanford blinked slowly as he finally noticed a pair of dark clawed feet pressed heavily into the black sand before him, the ebony fur that framed them twisting and squirming around violently like grass in a gale force wind. His heart gave a nauseating lurch at the wave of searing heat that suddenly radiated down onto his back, and the loud, low growl that rumbled from somewhere up above him.
"You can't escape me, Sixer."
This was it. There was obviously no amount of running or hiding that was going to save him, save either of them. If he wanted to bring himself and his brother both back home to Gravity Falls, to the shack, to their friends, and their twin niece and nephew, then Stanford was going to have to… he needed to…
Stanford didn't know. H-he didn't know what to do. What was he supposed to do!?
Heart rapidly beating against his chest, the older twin slowly, finally, lifted his head to stare wide-eyed at the younger, and take in what he'd become.
The second fragment, what monstrous form remained of him, was absolutely colossal. Visage bear-like in proportions, he was easily three times taller than Stanford standing at his full height on two powerful back legs. Pointed wolf-like ears sticking out on the top of his head gave the appearance of horns, and a long black muzzle was pulled into a feral snarl. H-his eyes, however… his eyes were the most unnerving, terrifying part of him, so much so that just the act of staring back into them unconsciously set Stanford's teeth on edge. He couldn't distinguish a shred of humanity left within them, awareness and recognition yes, but it wasn't the same. The fragment had numerous eyes now, running up the sides of his face in an odd bilateral pattern, scorching, loathing, and merciless. The orange inferno within them was the same glow from his brand, which now covered the entirety of his back. Dark wisps of shadow rose like a thick sooty smoke from the smoldering burn, trailing up a few feet into the corroding sky before dissipating.
For a few agonizingly long seconds Stanford couldn't think to do anything other than blankly stare at the creature towering over him, his expression frozen in a mixture of disbelief and dread. He scrambled up to his feet and stumbled another few steps backward, unable to look away from his brother, knees still aching and wobbling a little from his previous struggles. This wasn't how things were supposed to have turned out, not by a long shot. They were supposed to have cooperated and formed a doorway out of the mindscape by now. They were supposed to be safe at home, maybe even discussing the divide and misunderstandings that had separated them for all these years. He was… h-he was…. How? How could things have gone so horribly wrong?
The hulking, dark mass of a demon fell forward onto his front legs, curling black claws missing Stanford by inches, and the whole of the mindscape seemed to shudder with the impact. A series of snaps cracked from the creature's neck as he jerkily drew back his head, and gave another earth-shaking roar. The ground shuddered, crumbled, and split beneath them in a series of thick spider webbing fissures, pitch black sand flowing in waterfalls over the edges and disappearing into the deep bottomlessness below. Stanford lost his footing and nearly got his leg caught within a crevice as he scrambled backward, but he didn't take his eyes off of Stanley. Even the threat of existence tearing itself apart around them couldn't get him to look away.
"You."
The beast deliberately, menacingly, turned his immense head toward Stanford, voice gravelly, warped, and low enough to cause his twin's teeth to vibrate, and his ears to ring slightly. Stanley began to stalk toward him, gigantic claws leaving boulder-sized dents with each lumbering step into the soft beach beneath him. Stanford's heart thundered in his chest, as every primal instinct within him once again screamed at him to run, but this time with an urgency and intensity that he hadn't felt since his earlier years wandering the multiverse. Though it had taken a tremendous amount of self-discipline, and a few close calls to get the lesson to stick, he'd eventually been able to shutter away these more panicked gut reactions when faced with the stuff of nightmares, and had honed his intellect like a lightning-quick reflex to get himself out of tight spots. But now… now that buried feeling of complete terror and helplessness had overtaken him, and he was nearly blind with panic. Once again, he was frightened prey running from a monster that hunted him.
"You. I hate you."
The more Stanford struggled to move his feet, the more the ashen sand clung fast, slowing his movements down until it was no better than trying to run through sludge. Stanley drew closer and closer, an unstoppable avalanche of darkness and fury.
"You backstabbing piece of shit!"
There was a blur of motion as a claw slammed into the ground, and the near explosive impact inches from where Stanford floundered sent a spray of the sooty black particles flying up into the air. The shock wave completely swept him off his feet like a ragdoll, and he was airborne for half a second before abruptly crashing back down in a heap. Groaning, Stanford immediately forced his still reeling body back up, barely processing that Stanley's hulking, dusky silhouette had once again rounded on him. The voice that rumbled from his dark maw was thick with savage animosity.
"He always stood up for ya when everyone picked on ya for your freaky hands, but did you ever return the favor when people called us dumb and useless? No. NEVER!"
The other claw unexpectedly swung out at Stanford from his right, and he only had a moment to throw himself down onto the sand again before the massive fingers grazed through the locks of his hair. A spine-tingling burst of air swept across the top of his head soon after.
"You let us get kicked out of our home! You didn't believe us, you accused us, and you ruined our life over an accident! You were more bothered about what school some stupid paper said you graduated from than your own brother getting tossed into the streets!"
"Stanley, p-please I-" Stanford tried, voice cracking before he was forcibly cut off. He realized, two seconds too late this time, that he couldn't dodge the attack. There was a blow to his chest, as terrible and bone crunching as though he'd been hit full force by a sledgehammer, and it caused shocks of pain to spread through the nerves in his chest with the speed of a wildfire. Stanford's limp body was sent soaring into the air, his mind flittered on the edge of consciousness.
He and his brother were laughing, chasing each other across the shoreline of Glass Shard Beach. The sun reflected brightly off the wet, foamy sand, their feet squelching and leaving little hollowed prints behind for pools water to collect. They were so small that the waves, which would have been knee-high on an adult, crashed up against their chest in a brackish spray that nearly toppled them over whenever one came in. But they were so preoccupied with the game they were playing that they barely took notice. Stanford's slick fingers fumbled as he tried to catch the seashell. It had shattered so easily. A mess of broken shards littered at his feet before the sea came in and washed it all away.
Then the ground suddenly came up to greet Stanford and crushed the breath from his lungs. A sharp pop rang out from somewhere to his right, drawing his attention to the awkwardly bent elbow now attached to his arm. He lay there bonelessly, muscles in his throat spasming as he heaved and choked.
"You didn't even care enough to check on us once. Not once in TEN YEARS!" the creature screamed. His voice reverberated like the snap of gunfire, sending a sandstorm of charcoal flecks flying up past Stanford's prone form. They bit into his flesh, scraped against his glasses, and dug themselves viciously into his eyes. He gasped, bringing the fingers of his still functional hand up behind his spectacles to try and clear his vision from the stinging pain. His eyes watered badly, tears dirtied and dark with grit.
"We were homeless, and in poverty, and chased halfway around the world by cops and crooks who would gun us down if we so much as looked at them wrong. They abused our body, they hurt our soul. We thought that we were worthless, useless, dirty, incompetent, incapable; a parasite whose very existence just brought misery to the people we loved. We thought that no one would care if we lived or died. We hated ourself, and we hated the world, and we hated you!"
Both of the fragment's massive claws were slammed down upon his chest, the weight of each by itself equivalent to a cannon ball. Stanford felt a searing sharp crack arch through him, and he spit up blood, choking and coughing. His twin's claws dug into his shoulders pinning him into the quaking ground, sinking Stanford deeper into the dunes. Stanley leaned forward until his muzzle was inches from Stanford's face, multiple glowing eyes searing into his own gaze in vivid orange rows of molten metal.
"And then, then we sacrificed thirty years of our life to save your ungrateful ass from your own stupid machine. We destroyed our own name in a car crash. We taught ourself your codes and theoretical physics. We guarded your secrets. We spent almost every single night for more than three decades down in the basement trying to find a way to bring you back home."
Stanley's massive form quaked in rage, his eyes burning impossibly brighter as he easily wrapped his claw around Stanford's chest and pulled him up from the ground, closer to his face. His own low voice was strangely choked and struggling. "We were so worried for you. We were so afraid that you were already dead. We blamed ourself. We thought that it was all our fault. The guilt was unbearable. And we hated, we hated ourself so much. But we succeeded. Despite it all, all the time we had to wait, everything we had to sacrifice, we succeeded. And tell me, Poindexter, how; how exactly did you repay us for all of this when we finally saw you again for the first time in thirty years? Instead of thanking us for all that we had done, we got accusations, blame, and A PUNCH TO THE FACE!"
The dark mass of the second fragment balled an enormous fist and slammed it straight into Stanford's face. His head snapped back, as his glasses completely shattered. Droplets of blood and small shards of broken glass flew into the air, joining the rest of the showering debris. Stanford's dazed eyes trailed with them, ears ringing, body throbbing in pain.
"And you know what the worst part about all of that is though? It's that we actually kinda expected as much from ya. We did all of this even while knowing that if our positions had been reversed ya would have left us to rot on the other side of that portal for all eternity!"
"Th-that isn't true!" Stanford finally found his voice, even if it was gasping and laced with pain. An opaque fog was beginning to drift and creep upon the corners of his vision, and his mind swirled disorientingly as he tried to blink it away. But it didn't go away. It was everywhere, the mindscape was now responding to Stanford's own devastated mental state. The gloom slowly drifted in around the brothers. "Stanley… that isn't true."
"Really?!" Stanley scoffed, and barked out a cruel laugh that sent more bits of sand swirling upwards. "I find it hard to believe that someone like you would ever risk one life against the fate of the universe. Even if that life does belong to your own brother. Besides, ya already abandoned us for a decade, so what difference would the rest of eternity make to ya anyways!"
Stanley raised a beastly paw to strike Stanford again, but suddenly paused at Stanford's next pain-filled, trembling words.
"I… to get out of the nightmare realm, in order to save you… I cracked open the doorway between Bill's world and the mindscape. I-I invited the possibility that he would one day wreak havoc on our world again….so…so I could bring you back home. Stanley, please-"
The long jagged fingers of the claw plummeted down directly next to his head. In a haze of hot sparks, the sand was shattered into complete, bleached nothingness. Stanford squeezed his eyes closed, unable to hold back a whimper.
"LIAR! STOP TOYING WITH US!" the beast roared, utterly infuriated. "I know how you really feel. I know where your priorities lie. You would choose your dumb mystery world over us any day. Ya think you're so much better than us, better than everyone; that people should just line up to throw themselves down in front of you for the sake of your ambitions. Ya have no problem steppin' all over other people, but heaven forbid someone ever want to lean on you. Because anyone who ever needs your help or support, they're just burdens slowing the great Stanford Pines down and getting in the way his true potential, right? You don't have to care about other people because unlike them, you're special, and important, and going to do amazing things that will change the world. Ha! Your pride makes me sick!" The symbol on his back pulsed bright enough that Stanford could still see its glow even from the wrong side, and the shadowed smoke leaking from around his towering mass flared upwards into the sky. "IT MAKES ME HURT!"
Stanford flinched away, his eyes still tightly closed, as he braced himself for another debilitating blow. When none came, he cracked open an eye to see Stanley's own numerous glowing orange eyes staring down at him unblinkingly. His brother's fragment bent down close, until his grotesque face was directly next to Stanford's ear, and when he spoke again, his voice seethed with a quiet venom and cruelty.
"Ya know, I think you do actually belong with Bill and his little gang of freaks, but not because of your stupid six fingers. No, ya belong with him because just like him, you're a monster."
Both of Stanford's eyes flew open as Stanley's words struck something deep within him, as though he had torn through stitches binding together an old wound. "ENOUGH!" Stanford bellowed, as a sudden icy wave of fury surged through him.
Stanford swung his fist wildly trying to catch Stanley in his face, but a shadowy claw effortlessly caught his arm. Stanley's face broke into a sudden beastly grin, multiple rows of razor teeth glinting like the orange glow of his eyes. He let out a deep vicious laugh, seemingly taking an immense pleasure in Stanford's reaction.
"You-you're wrong," Stanford weakly tried to defend. "I'm not like him…" Then just as quickly as it had come, the brief flash of anger seeped out of him, leaving him trembling and plagued with self-doubt. He hung his head, tears stinging his eyes with a sudden vehemence. "I-I'm nothing like…" His voice trailed off, an old aching self-loathing digging nails sharply into his heart. Everything was rapidly becoming unhinged, it was all breaking, and it felt to Stanford as though he was plunging over a smooth surface, trying hopelessly to grab onto anything to stop his fall. But his hands kept coming away empty, and there was no safety net to catch him this time.
Because when his whole world had fallen apart on him like this once before, when Bill had first revealed his treachery leaving Stanford reeling, terrified, near insane with guilt and paranoia, with no one he felt he could trust, with the literal weight of the entire universe pressed into his shoulders, it was his twin who he had turned to. In his darkest hour, Stanley had been his safety net.
"Oh?" the monstrous form of his twin mocked in cruel delight. "Are ya saying that Bill Cipher doesn't use people? Just like you do. Are ya saying that Bill Cipher doesn't betray people's trust? Just like you do. It's no wonder that the two of you got along so well. YOU HAVE SO MUCH IN COMMON!"
Stanley again wrapped his large claws around Stanford's chest, and lifted him into the air before viciously slamming him into the shore. His dislocated elbow let out another blood-chilling series of pops, but the author of the journals couldn't feel it enough to truly mourn the loss of his dominant writing hand. Everything was just too dark and… hazy. Spinning. The mindscape gave a mighty shudder and the ground began to crack again underneath them.
"No, no," Stanford moaned, the tears that had welled up in his eyes now spilled freely down his cheeks. This was a nightmare, it was all just some terrible nightmare…
A wide toothy smile, wild and insane, cracked across his brother's face like a molten fissure. "It hurts, doesn't it Ford. IT HURTS, DOESN'T IT!" The creature threw his head back and howled in dark, unbridled laughter that might have horrified Stanford if he'd still had the presence of mind to be afraid. As it was, he could only gaze up at what wrath and hatred remained of his twin through his tears while the demon deliberately curled its long fingers around Stanford's neck.
This wasn't Stanley, it couldn't be Stanley, it just couldn't be-… but… but it was. It was his brother, and he was just as real as Stanford. Though, it was doubtful that he would be recognizable as such, either to himself or to anyone else, for very much longer. He was gradually losing himself as Bills energy coursed through him, becoming more savage, more obsessive, more cruel. More like a monster.
Stanford coughed weakly as he feebly tried to loosen the grip around his throat with his good hand, fingers desperately trying to dig into the coarse, hot fur. Stanley grinned viciously and raised his other arm, pointing it towards the turbulently thrashing water beyond, and directly at the hanging, unconscious fragment within the eye of the portal. Numerous lengths of shadowy chain burst forth from the dark sea, thrashing aimlessly around in the air for a moment before they were directed toward their target. They whipped towards the figure, wrapping around and binding him so utterly that even the dim glow from the wound on his chest was buried, leaving only his ashen face and pained expression visible. The smoldering leviathan slowly closed his fist, at the same time severely tightening the grip on his twin's neck. Stanford's eyes almost went back into his head from the intense pressure, and he heard a raw scream of agony carry across the chaotic storm of the mindscape as both he and the third fragment were crushed simultaneously. The second fragment's voice was barely audible above it all, building to a fever pitch, shaky, scorching, and wild.
"I want ya to hurt. I want ya to hurt. I want ya to hurt, Like I hurt."
"Stop it. Stanley, stop it! Just leave me alone!" Stanford sobbed, fighting to lift the claw clamped around his neck. Stanley pulled his other claw away from the fragment and reached down to wrap it around his twin's neck as well. The titan's ruthless grin was still fixed firmly in place. A hungry look glinted in his eyes, as though he were a child who couldn't believe that he was getting away with something bad. His claws were practically trembling in barely restrained glee against Stanford's throat.
"What's the matter Sixer?" He whispered bitterly, voice fluctuating madly with each word that followed as he became increasingly unhinged. "Ya seemed so adamant about taking me with you before. But really, this is more what I'm used to from ya. Push me away. Just keep pushing me away and play the victim while you ignore all the damage you've done to me. I'm hurting, so you don't want me around anymore. You think I'm bein' SUFFOCATING!?"
The unrelenting grip of his brother's beastly paws closed tighter around Stanford's throat. In a blind panic, he grabbed at them, pulling and clawing at the fur, his fingernails scratched against the vice-like grip as he tried in vain to gain his freedom. Stanley didn't budge. Not a centimeter.
No…
Stanford's vision flickered oddly, and the mindscape around him seemed to echo his fading consciousness by giving a vast groan, and then convulsing like a strip of paper caught between two bursts of wind. Above them, the dark grey void of the sky tore itself open. It spread, blinding, erasing white, steadily growing like a reverse black hole, devouring anything within its reach, and replacing it with a barren nothingness. The black sand and debris around him lifted up, his coat and hair whipping wildly towards the greedy blank vacuum.
All of Stanley's fragments either didn't notice or didn't seem to care. Stanford was barely able to turn his head, desperately looking toward the child fragment for aid. H-he… he'd helped him before. He hadn't wanted to be destroyed. He loved his family, loved Stanford, and wanted to see them all happy and alive again. He would help him, right?
The boy wasn't in a position to notice his twin's pleading gaze. The inky, thrashing tide had nearly covered his small form completely, and he sat within the rising waters as still as a stone jetty. His hands were still firmly covered over his ears.
Stanford's tearful gaze fell away and traveled to the third fragment suspended within the ruined portal. He watched hopelessly as the whiteness of the sky began to drip down onto his face, slowly engulfing his body from the top down, eating him alive. He was dissolving again, slowly coming apart like in the nightmare realm. But he didn't stir, didn't open his eyes.
A dull sort of acceptance of his inevitable death was starting to sink into Stanford, and he finally raised his eyes up to the dark fragment still intent on suffocating him. His monstrous face was pulled into a wild mask of hatred and rage, uncaring that he was going to die with his brother, counting on it. Stanford looked into the unemotive fiery eyes, and felt tears softly trickle down his face.
Stanford had failed him. Failed him in the worst possible way. He'd lost him to the darkness of his own mind, and now it was far too late for him to do anything about it. If only he had been there sooner…. in that memory with the hermit, what if he'd actually been there. What if after he'd punched and lectured his brother for that reckless gambit of opening the portal, he'd returned the hug first offered; if he'd let him know how much he'd missed him over the past thirty years. If only he had recognized, had realized… if only he had told him how much he truly loved him… how much he actually cared. If only….
It was too late.
"I-I… I'm sorry." The words escaped him in a rasping whisper, swallowed by the tumultuous shuddering of the dying mindscape. The ruthless claws around his throat twitched, loosening for the briefest of moments, before tightening again. Stanford stared into his brother's face, his arms dropping to his sides, no longer bothering to fight. The darkness in his vision grew, along with the void in the sky.
Stanford smiled sadly, tears dripping steadily from his eyes.
"I-I couldn't… save you, Stanley," he choked out, voice thick with sorrow. "I couldn't save you… like you saved me."
The tears on his cheeks floated into the air, pulled into the void along with everything else. "…. I've failed you…..I-I'm sorry."
Stanley froze.
"No," he growled, his voice reverberating dangerously. "No, you aren't."
Stanford looked directly into Stanley's eyes, seeing many reflections his own mournful face reflected back at himself from their fiery depths. "I'm sorry," he breathed.
A sudden jarring impact on his back emptied the rest of the precious air from his lungs. His head cracked against a remaining wooden piece from the Stan O'War half buried in the sand.
"STOP IT! Stop it or I'll KILL YOU!" Stanford was lifted again, and his body hung limp as a rag doll from his brother's claws. "I don't believe you! I'LL NEVER TRUST YOU!"
The leviathan pulled him forward, closer and closer to his snarling maw until Stanford was so close that his entire vision was filled with nothing but dimly glinting, razor sharp teeth.
"I'LL RIP YOU A̵̙͕̩ P̥͖̖̻̰̤ ͍̰͓A̴͙̪ ̢̗̦R͙̙̪͕̤̙ ̕T̘̘"
"I'M SORRY!" The words tore out from Stanford, from the very core of his being, and they echoed across the shuddering mindscape.
Stanley screamed and ferociously, savagely, flung Stanford across the dark sand dunes like he was skipping a stone. Their universe rocked violently, the void above them screeching like a rusty old machine before suddenly stopping, and dissolving away. Stanford hit the ground and tumbled listlessly, sending debris and black sand up around him. His body rolled for a few more feet, before skidding to a halt. He lay deathly still, not a sound escaping him.
Stanley stood there, panting, his many eyes staring at the fallen form of his brother. His giant body shuddered, and his pointed ears twitched backwards. "I told you… I warned you I would k-kill… why didn't you… why…."
For a moment, Stanford could only just breathe, the slight air slipping faintly from his slack jaw making a small dent in the charcoal grains of sand. He blinked once, dizzy, twice, disbelieving, before stirring weakly and letting out a quiet moan, his body trembling on the ground in pain. With every nerve on fire, he forced himself to kneel, and then stumble to his feet, turning back towards Stanley's second fragment.
"S-Stan…" Stanford swayed, his blurry vision focusing on the monstrous form of his brother. Tears streamed down his face, his breath hitched with sobs as he took a single step forward. "Stanley."
The ceaseless quaking of the monochrome beach suddenly quieted beneath his feet, as did the howling wind around them. The particles that had been whipping upward in the whirlwind slowly settled back down like a handful of debris sinking into water. It was though they had passed into the eye of a hurricane, danger still looming threateningly on every side, but for now, it had all stopped. The mindscape was halcon, clear, and peaceful, even if only ominously so.
Stanley shook his head. "No," he whispered, terror now creeping into his voice. "I don't belie-… I-I don't…"
A hush had fallen upon the entire mindscape, as if the realm itself was watching the brothers and holding its breath. Stanford shuddered as sobs wracked through his body and took another step forward. Then another. With every step Stanford took towards him, Stanley took a step away.
"What are you so afraid of?" Stanford murmured, and somehow his quiet voice carried across the empty shoreline. The youngest of the fragments twitched from his position in the now calm, gently lapping black water, raising his head slightly. The second fragment, however, only responded with a defensive, vicious snarl, continuing to back away from his brother.
"It… It'll be okay, S-Stanley," he said softly. Stanford slowly extended a hand toward him, feeling as though he were almost in a trance, wanting nothing more than to comfort his hurting twin.
"Don't touch me!" the creature howled, flinching away from his twin. His gigantic form stumbled backward as if Stanford's hand was an ocean's worth of icy water to his small burning flame. Tears continued to spill down Stanford's face, but he pressed forward, his steps purposeful. Gradually, Stanley had retreated until his back legs touched the edge of the grimy black sea. The waves sluggishly pulled at his feet, and the shadows spreading from Stanley's burn mark began to come alive with a renewed fury.
The mindscape had now completely quieted to an eerie stillness, the only sound the dull crash of waves. Stanley's smallest fragment sat up even straighter as his dark counterpart was pushed back into the ocean with him. Inky drops were dripping from his soaked hair down into the pale foam that had collected around his shivering body, and he peeked warily over his shoulder at the two approaching figures, eyes widening in surprise… perhaps hope.
As Stanford drew closer to his brother, the shadows writhed threateningly with increased agitation, ready to strike out at any moment. Stanley swung his head over his shoulder to look for an escape, but nothing was there but the expansive black ocean. His wolf-like ears flattened against his head in fear, as he frantically looked for a way out. His large body huddled away from Stanford, all four paws now in the water. A guttural growl rose from him, gaining volume until it filled the air like distant thunder.
Water sloshed over Stanford's pant legs, dark waves gently ebbing and flowing around him, but he paid them no mind. Stanford didn't slow his steps, even when the shadows arched toward him like black vipers. He didn't stop until he was directly in front of Stanley's second fragment, close enough to see each individual shadow twitching towards him, and the orange glow from Stanley's eyes and brand shone off of him casting his own body in an orange tint. The demon regarded him in a mixture of terror and rage, teeth bared and eyes flashing.
Stanford reached his hand forward, and gently placed it on Stanley's front leg.
His brother's fragment let out a shriek, as if Stanford's light touch had instead shoved a knife straight into his heart. The brand on his back pulsed a fiery glow of pain and rage. "GET AWAY!"
The shadows swirling around Stanley were done with their warning rattle and struck viciously outward. They shot up Stanford's arm and spread like a fire on gasoline. In an instant, the older twin was completely engulfed within them. They were consuming him. Stanford screamed, his soul igniting with a frozen fire, burning into the essence of his being. His heart shattered and shattered again, an eternal agony caught within a single moment that he was lost within. He was falling, utterly alone within the agonizing suffocating darkness, and for that eternal moment, it was all he knew.
Then another part of Stanford's soul blazed to life, shining with a burning resolve, and it told him not to let go. He kept his hand still as he let shadows tear into his soul, but they couldn't rip it couldn't, because he was was here for his brother, and Stanford wasn't ever going to lose him again, not to anything in the universe. Not to shadows, or to a demon's power, or even to Stanley himself. And then, just as it began, the flames that washed over him dissipated. They flickered weakly before retreating from him, down his arm, and back to Stanley.
Stanford came back to himself, gasping as warm tears streamed down his cheeks. He looked up at his brother and blinked in awe. His monstrous face was twisted into something resembling sorrow. From his multiple eyes, globs of glowing molten liquid trailed down his muzzle and splashed into the murky water with a sizzle, sending wisps white steam spiraling up into the air. The shadows were no longer thrashing around and were now curled protectively around him, but they didn't cling to him as closely as they had before. They were thin now, little more than a smoky haze. The brand had now lost almost all of its light, glowing weakly on his back. Stanford didn't remove his hand, a broken smile on his face.
"You've been hurting so badly… and I never even noticed. Some brother I turned out to be, huh?" A small humorless laugh escaped him.
Stanley was silent for the first time, his giant body heaving with shaky rasping breaths.
"You… You're afraid of me, aren't you?" Stanford asked softly. "Afraid that I'll hurt you again."
The fragment didn't answer him but shuddered under his hand. His fur was cold, almost frigid to the touch. Stanford turned his tired gaze to the water, voice quiet and choked with tears. "Y-you… I-I'm sorry Stanley. I'm sorry that I got so wrapped up in the excitement about getting into my dream school. So wrapped up that I never once considered your feelings or the p-position I was leaving you in. I knew that… that you would have been miserable stuck in a dead-end job like that. But I convinced myself that it wasn't… my problem."
Out of the corner of his eye, Stanford saw the child fragment now turn completely toward them, watching with rapt, undivided attention. His expression was oddly reserved and revealed nothing. Stanford swallowed thickly, and continued, his words halting.
"I didn't even…bother to n-notice how scared and alone you truly felt. And I'm supposedly a genius! I should have realized… at the very least asked h-how you felt, not ignored you. I'm… sorry. You're my brother Stanley. It was my problem."
Stanford sniffled and rubbed his thumb over Stanley's arm."I was wrong t- hgh, to do that to you."
The child wiped at his tear stained cheeks, the only evidence now of his previous crying, and was standing up in the waves. The shadows under Stanford's hand twitched weakly and slowly began to abate and fade.
"A-And when you got kicked out…" Stanford continued murmuring, his eyes closed. "You were so hurt by what dad did to you… i-it shouldn't have mattered if it was an accident or not… I should have reached out… o-offered some sort of encouragement or comfort. B-But I didn't. For ten years, I didn't say a word to you. I'm sorry that I didn't check up o-on… how you were doing until I needed your help. I-I was so angry after I thought you had sabotaged my chances of getting into my dream school. I… I didn't feel like I could ever forgive you. I didn't want to forgive you. I thought you'd betrayed me; convinced myself that you'd been lazy and were just riding off my success. I was so b-bitter. But also felt… so much regret. I-I didn't want to think about it. I just… I devoted myself purely to my studies so I could forget you. You needed me, and I wanted to forget you. You were suffering, and I… I abandoned you. I should've chased after you… I should have. I'm sorry I didn't."
Stanford tried vainly to reach under his shattered glasses and wipe away his tears, but they wouldn't stop. The shadows had almost entirely faded, from around his brother's second fragment. A soft grey mist was now beginning to shroud him, slowly obscuring him from sight. It was icy against Stanford's hand. As he looked on, it appeared as though Stanley was beginning to transform again, becoming smaller as his twin spoke.
"And I shouldn't've blamed you for what happened with the portal thirty years ago. What happened wasn't really your fault. It was an- guh, was an accident and I knew it. I… I called you out of nowhere and thrust you right into the heart of my own stupid mess without warning. I didn't…" Stanford winced and clenched his hand slightly. "I didn't allow you to destroy my research then and there, even though I knew it was ….it was… the best course of action. I knew, I knew, but I was too proud of my life's work to let it go to waste. If I had just let you burn it… so much grief could have been prevented." He spared another glance over to Stanley, his form now shrunk down to a normal height, although his features were still cloaked in the grey mist.
"It really c-could've been you that was lost to the portal just as easily as it-as it ended up being me. It was an accident. A matter of bad luck 'nd bad timing. The portal was my folly. It was m- .. not yours. That I ended up falling through it at all was probably just karma getting back at me for ever being-" He laughed bitterly at himself. "B-Being blinded enough to ever work wi…with s-someone like Bill," Stanford spat out the demon's name like a curse, filled with self-loathing.
The form before him was no longer a monstrous, intimidating force of wrath. No, now he resembled Stanley's second fragment almost exactly as he'd been before except… drained. A mere wraith of the imposing dark form he used to be. He resembled a worn homeless vagabond, his clothing shabby and frayed. The tattered gray suit hung off him loosely, rustling gently in the sea breeze. His face was gaunt, almost malnourished looking, and silver hair hung limply over his eyes.
Stanford's hand trailed down the shade's arm, over white scars disfiguring his ghostly, almost translucent skin, until it finally slid into Stanley's cold thin hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze.
Stanford glanced up at the still figure hanging within the portal. A lump formed in his throat and he absent-mindedly wiped at his tears again. There was only one left, but he wasn't sure what he could possibly do for him. If… if he would just open his eyes, maybe…
"And most of all," Stanford finally continued, turning his gaze back to the fragment still in front of him. "Most of all. I'm sorry for the way I've treated you e-ever since you got me back from the other side of the portal. I'm so… I'm so sorry. I was angry. But…. truly, I was angry at m-myself. A-And I was afraid the mistakes I'd made in my youth were going to doom our u-universe. I shouldn't've been so cold to you. I shouldn't've shut you out. I-I shouldn't've evicted you from the home you'd grown to love over the years. I d-didn't acknowledge anything you've done for me over the past thirty years, just to bring me home. I wanted to reclaim everything that my own foolishness had taken from me. I didn't realize at the time th-that you were one of the things that my foolishness had taken from me. I… I 'm sorry Stanley. That you've been brought to a point where you cared so little for your… f-for your own life that you could have just… tossed it aside just like that; without feeling any real loss, it's… that's on me. That's… on me."
The second fragment was looking down and away, face colored with shame; regret. Stanford gently cupped his twin's chin, and tilted his head up to look at him, to make sure his words were being heard, to convey their conviction and truth. To let Stanley know he could trust them. His eyes were sunken, dark and shadowed behind his limp grey bangs. No longer glowing fiercely with ire, they now gazed sadly back at him like fading embers.
"And… h-how can you think your life is of so little value, when it's the most important thing in the world to me! Stanley… Stanley. I'm your brother, and I've never-I've never… b-been there for you when you…. when you needed me. And I should've been. I… Stanley. I should've been."
Stanford kept his eyes locked with the man in front of him for a moment before risking another glance up to the third fragment. Still, he didn't open his eyes. The older twin stared desolately, mouth trying to work, but not quite forming words. He closed his eyes, and his head bowed to his chest as if made of lead.
"I'm sorry." He whispered, voice trembling in desperation. He couldn't have come so far only to have failed here and now. He couldn't have! He wasn't leaving here without his brother. "I'm sorry I've done this to you. I'm sorry I've hurt you like this. I…. please. Please. Please. I know after everything you've been through, it may be hard to believe… b-but I love you, Stanley….s-so much. P-Please trust me… "
His voice finally trailed off into barely audible, senseless mumbling, as he stared at the water gently ebbing around them. Tears dripped down his face, and his nose ran. He knew his face was a complete mess, but he no longer bothered to try and wipe it away. His breath hitched with quiet sobs as he cried.
A gentle tug on his sleeve brought him out of his despondency. He sniffed and glanced over to see what it was. Stanley's first fragment, his childlike form, was clutching his coat and smiling softly up at him. His eyes shone brightly with a fierce, deep assurance. After a moment, he turned and looked back towards the horizon, an orange hue gently shining on his young face. Stanford blinked and turned to follow his gaze. Vibrant color had flooded back into the mindscape, and a dazzling orange sunrise shone brilliantly on them all, reflecting off the now blue water with a breathtaking radiance.
Stanford realized the entirety of beach they were standing one had changed. It was no longer just the heart of his own mindscape anymore. It was now a memory. An important memory, for both of them. This was the beach from their shared childhood, where he remembered being so full of life and joy with his brother at his side. It held a lot of meaning in its deceptively shallow waters.
Together, he and the other two fragments watched as the sky was filled with the soft hues of the dawn. The light glinted off the ruined portal as the sun rose behind it, completely washing out the final fragment in it's overwhelming light.
After he'd finished taking in the vivid golden rays of the sunrise, Stanley's youngest fragment moved toward his counterpart and held out a hand for him to take. The 'Scary one' hesitated for a moment, before slowly letting go of Stanford's hand, and wrapping his own large one around the child's much smaller one. The boy grinned proudly, and gave him a small tug. "Come on."
He still seemed uncertain. "I… I'm scared," he confessed quietly. "I don't want to be hurt again."
"Then let me protect ya. You've protected us for so long …. but you can finally rest. Right now, we need love to help us heal. We need our family." The child glanced at the third fragment. "And I have a pretty good feeling he'd agree with me." His face softened and he looked back to his dark fragment. "There's always a chance that people are gonna end up hurting us when we let them get in close. But at the same time, we're never going to stop being in pain if we keep pushin' people away. It may be a gamble, but for the price of our and Stanford's lives, for the opportunity of seeing the kids, and Soos, and all our friends again…"
Stanley turned to Stanford, smiled brightly and winked. "That's a gamble I'm willing to take."
He tugged on the other's hand again with a gentle insistence. Finally, the second fragment moved forward reluctantly trailing after his younger counterpart. The worn man paused for the briefest of moments to look back over his shoulder at his brother.
"Sorry," he rasped quietly, and Stanford felt a sudden warmth wash over him. He looked down at himself, and was surprised to see his wounds had healed over, the stabbing pain was gone from his aching limbs and body. Even his glasses were replaced and whole. Stanford looked back up to perhaps voice his thanks, but then decided to just remain silent, enjoying the moment for what it was. The sea-breeze gently swayed his hair and clothes as he watched the two pieces of his twin approach the base the of the portal.
The shining sunlight flared within the circular frame of the ruined portal. A blinding glow dissolved their bodies away into gleaming white particles that danced upwards to where the third part of their soul slumbered. Stanford was forced to cover his eyes with his arm as the center shone with a sudden radiance. By the time it had died back down, the three fragments had finally reunited, settling back together to form the whole, unbroken soul of his brother.
Stanford stood quietly for a few moments, now alone, as the blue, sun-streaked waves swelled and ebbed placidly around him, lapping against the portal's shining metal base. Then from its center, a staircase materialized. It was as though it were carved out of gleaming sunlight, shimmering and transparent, but oddly solid looking all the same. It slowly descended towards the water, until it stopped directly at Stanford's feet.
He gingerly placed his foot on the first step, and breathing deeply, Stanford began his ascent up the stairs to the center of the portal, where his brother waited.