Notes: Update was a while in the waiting, I know - if it's any solace, this chapter is quite a bit longer than the past I've posted. Sorry about all that. I have a relatively comprehensive plan of the entire fic so far, I just have to find time to sit down and write it out.

Introduced in this chapter is Shermy Pines - a bit necessary, since I didn't want this entire fic to be Ford and his internal monologues. Seeing how their character barely exists in canon, any iteration of them is pretty much an original character. But here, I'll be going with Sarielle's Shermy, who's Dipper and Mabel's grandmother, and who kicks all kinds of ass, honestly. No background knowledge is necessary (but y'all should check their fics on AO3, because they are amazing) but just giving credit where it's due.

CHAPTER 3

The cold fear coiled in his gut promised a sleepless night.

Never one to waste time, Stanford Pines cracked open his brother's phonebook and began flipping through the yellowed pages, in a vain attempt to keep his mind off of certain other topics.

There was no point in wondering where, when, and above all, why Stanley had gone. As things were, there was nothing Ford could do to change his present solution. First, he needed to get his identity back - and more specifically, clear his name. Incarceration was not his main concern - he had spent a significant portion of the past thirty years in some kind of alien prison. But he would damned if he was to be arrested on charges of llamacide.

His current task did little to distract him from his wandering thoughts, however. It was clear that Stanley had accumulated a large number of contacts over the past three decades, but the names and numbers meant nothing to Ford. There were cryptic notes scrawled near certain contacts, but they elicited nothing more than mild bemusement. Pug smuggler?

It took mere minutes for the names to start to blur together, and this came from a man used to deciphering millennia-old demon summoning incantations, written in languages lost to mankind. Park. Palmer. Pan. Pendragon raised an eyebrow. Price. Pines. Pitt. Pinckney -

Pines. Ford blinked, and flipped back a page. Ah, yes. Shermaine Pines (Shermy), written in neat letters, surrounded and almost entirely covered by scrawled notes. Following it was a whole collection of other Pines, most of them completely unfamiliar. Dipper and Mabel's parents, was written next to one number, and Ford subconsciously averted his gaze.

Yes, that was right. Stanley had made mention of Shermy, but with the distraction that came with the rest of the note, contacting her had slipped his mind entirely.

Ford remembered her, of course, even though it had been much more than three decades since the last time he saw his younger sister. She had been a five year old child then, and wasn't it strange to think that his baby sister was now a grown woman - a grandmother, even? If not for the familiarity of Mabel's wide grins and Dipper's defiant stubbornness, he would have found that impossible to believe.

Her name drew surprisingly vivid memories - Ford had thought the past thirty years had robbed him of most casual recollection of his previous life.

But they were meaningless - the person that Shermy was now, was in probability… a different person entirely. His baby sister had grown up into a stranger in the decades he had spent trapped between dimensions. Those were years he could never get back.

Yes, Stanley had brought him back through the portal. But what did he bring him back to?

Before all of this, Stanford Pines had been destined for a bright future. His research was promising - he could have made groundbreaking discoveries and elevated mankind to unprecedented heights. His whole life had been spread out in front of him, and what a life it was! With Fiddleford by his side and Gravity Falls positively teeming with mysteries to explored -

Could haves, would haves. All that possibility, all that potential - they were all lost now.

At best, he was now a laughingstock among his former peers. Fiddleford was recovering, but he had spent decades as a lunatic living on the very edges of society and lost even more than Stanford had. Ma and Pa had passed years ago, and Ford had never gotten the chance to say good-bye.

In this world, Stanford Pines was without friends, future, and with the exception of two - three people - family.

Yes, it was true that Ford had made his own… unfortunate decisions. He should have listened to Fiddleford's warnings. He should have never trusted Bill - that had been made very, very clear. But he had made up for that particular mistake… sufficiently, he felt.

But it hadn't been Bill who had taken three decades of his life from him, and expected thanks in return.

In the end, Ford had not wanted Stanley to leave. But that did not mean that he had truly forgiven his twin.

He wasn't sure he ever could.

And now, Stanley wanted him to talk to Shermy, the baby sister that time and separation (and, however indirectly, Stanley himself) had turned into a complete stranger.

Ford's first instinct was to refuse. All he had to gain from the phone call was heartbreak and the saccharine sentimentality that was his anathema - and that was if his sister even believed his story.

Really, why would she? Thirty years of disappearance, identity theft, faked deaths - it sounded like a plot straight out of that ridiculous duck show his brother was obsessed with.

But reality hit like a freight train. Shermy was quite possibly the only person alive who had known both Stanley and Stanford Pines - the only person who knew the differences between them. It was inevitable that she would stumble across this deception, and there was no telling the consequences when that happened - for everyone involved.

He dialed the number, for that reason only.

This was the logical decision, the best for everyone involved. Really - Ford certainly didn't expect to find some kind of familiarity, some kind of normality, in talking to someone who - who might as well be a complete stranger. There was no reason to believe that Shermy had not changed completely.

(So why did he still -)

His hand clenched on the phone. It took several minutes for the other line to connect. During that time, Ford had already regretted his decision half a dozen times.

The voice that broke the static was female, flat with disbelief, and completely unfamiliar. "Alright, who the hell is this?"

Ford paused, momentarily disorientated. This… He squinted at his brother's handwriting - perhaps he had misread one of the smudged numbers. "I, ah, apologize. I think I… might have the wrong number -"

"…Wait, Ford?" There was a brief, significant pause. "Is that you?"

He floundered for a few seconds. Shermy? But Shermy did not sound like the grandmother she was supposed to be - but then again, she would be relatively young for a grandmother, wouldn't she? But… how was it possible that she remembered him? She had been so young when Ford had gone into the portal -

Ah.

It became suddenly, uncomfortably clear - she thought he was Stanley. His brother really had assumed his identity, in every possible way. Ford wasn't sure how to feel about that. "I - Is this Shermai - Shermy? Shermy Pines?"

"…Ford, what the hell?" There was a shuffling noise. "Look, the only reason I'm not reaming you out for drunk dialing me at 3 AM in the damn morning is because -" A pause. "Oh, crap."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Is - Is it today? It is, isn't it. You wouldn't be drunk off your ass if it wasn't - "

It had been a while since Ford had felt so lost in a conversation. "What is today?"

An aggravated exhale of breath. "You know what, Ford. I've been telling you for years that you can, y'know, talk to me instead of stewing in your own misery. At least you're not doing this with the kids still in the house -"

"I am not intoxicated," he protested.

"You're a shit liar, Ford," she said flatly. "Look, I can't pretend that I can completely understand how it felt for you to lose Stanley, but he was my brother too. Besides… I thought we've moved past 'denial' by this point. We both know perfectly well why you're doing this."

"To lose Stanley - ?" The dots connect. Right, Stanley would have had to mourn for himself in order to keep up his deception. It seemed that he had been a tad… fervent in holding up his pretense.

"Are you talking about the, ah -" Ford had to think momentarily to remember what Stanley had said his story had been. "The car crash?"

There was a long silence, and Ford worried suddenly that he had misspoke. When Shermy spoke again, her voice was deathly serious. "Stanford, are you alright? …Hit your head on anything?"

"I am perfectly fine," he said, just a tad curtly. Rather understandable, considering he hadn't had a hold on this conversation since it had begun.

"Sure. Alright, whatever you say. You do remember the voicemail you left me a few days ago, right? I'm pretty sure that was the definition of, 'not fine.'"

Stanley. Stanley had left Shermy a voicemail, a few days ago - which, outside of Bill's time stasis, meant the day or two leading up to the Weirdmageddon. It was… convenient timing, which Ford could mark up to coincidence if not for a lifetime of experience.

He gripped the receiver tighter. This voicemail could be the key to finding his brother. "What did he - I say?"

"Ford?"

"What was in the voicemail?" Ford asked again.

"…This is not helping your claims of sobriety, Ford."

"Shermy, this is important. Just… answer my questions. I understand that they may seem… ridiculous, but I can explain afterwards." Ford let out a sigh. "Please."

His sister was silent for a moment, clearly shocked. But hesitantly, she said, "You apologized for taking away my brother."

Ford sank into his chair. "What?"

When Shermy spoke again, her voice was low. "Look, Ford. I've told you again and again, but … damn it, for someone so smart, you have a ridiculously thick skull. What happened to Stanley wasn't your fault, alright? I never blamed you. Neither did Ma and Pa - hell, I'm pretty sure they blamed themselves."

He didn't reply, too consumed by his whirling thoughts. What was Stanley apologizing for? The most obvious possibility was that his brother felt guilt for pushing him into the portal - and a small part of him said vindictively, good. But when followed to the logical conclusion, it didn't make sense -

"I used to think they were right, y'know. Pa was the one who kicked him out. Do you know the survival rates of teenagers on the streets? It's a miracle that Stanley… even got as far as he did," Shermy said bitterly. "I never even got to meet him. Not until the funeral. Do you have any idea how fucked up that is?"

- because at the time of the voicemail, Ford had already returned from the other side of the portal. In fact, Ford had already been back for weeks at that point. The timing simply did not line up.

Unless Stanley knew what was coming.

The realization shocked Ford right out of his thoughts, and he found that he could not tune out Shermy's words any longer.

He… had never considered, really, the fact that Stanley had never met his younger sister - Shermy had been a baby when… well.

"Sherm, I -"

"But… Ma and Pa lived with that guilt for the rest of their life," she continued, cutting him off. "You weren't home most of the time, but… Ma cried a lot. She shouted at Pa. She blamed him for what happened to Stanley, and… well, it's hard to tell with Pa, but I think he blamed himself too."

Shermy let out a sigh. "You have to learn to forgive, Ford. Else, you'll be carrying this burden with you for your whole life. Sometimes, that's the only way you can fix things. Stanley's not coming back, Ford."

The irony of the moment hit him all at once, and he had to stifle a bark of laughter. For what he had to do next, he needed Shermy to trust him - and if nothing else, Ford had learned that maniacal laughter was not a sign of a well-adjusted mind.

"…About that. Shermy, remember when I said I would explain these questions?"

"Yeah, Ford?"

Ford paused, steeling himself. "Stanley's alive, Sherm."

The other side went silent, but there was no clicking sound to indicate that his sister had hung up. Ford pressed on. "It's… a very long and complicated story. But Stanley faked his death, thirty years ago. Since then, he -"

"How?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Ford, how did he fake his death?"

He racked his brains trying to remember his brother's explanation to Dipper and Mabel. "He cut the brakes on his own car, I believe. There was a flaming car crash - much of the identifying evidence was destroyed in that, so Stanley was able to be legally declared dead without a body -"

"There was a body in the car, Ford."

Ford blinked. "There was a-"

"Look, Ford. It's not that easy to have someone declared dead - not without their remains."

The phone receiver hung loosely in Ford's hand. He stared into the distance as he tried to comprehend Shermy's revelation. "Are you sure?" Ford asked weakly.

"…Yeah. Ma and Pa went to identify it. There… was a lot of damage, I think. The funeral was closed-casket. Dammit, Ford. You were there - how do you not remember this?"

A great deal of physical damage. Closed-casket funeral. And Ford knew, for certain, that his brother was alive. Meaning…

…How identifiable was a severely burned body? Especially for a grief-stricken couple who hadn't seen their son in a decade.

The only conclusion that Ford could make, turned his stomach. But really, it explained everything - why Stanley felt the need to run, what he hadn't wanted Ford to tell Dipper and Mabel. The body used to fake Stanley's death was not his, obviously.

But whose body did he use - and, what had Stanley done to get it?

"Shermy," he said slowly. "There's something I need you to look into for me."

Gravity Falls, August, 1982

"You want - " A pause. "...Actually, I dunno what that means."

They explained. He was quiet for a long time.

"Alright," he said finally. "I get it now. Guess I should of expected. Not like I have much else to give."

They waited. They had time. He didn't.

"So," he said, like they knew he would. "Say I, uh. If I agree. What happens then?"

Many things. Nothing. A thousand, thousand revolutions of a lone planet around a lone star in a lone galaxy. It was all the same to them.

"...To me, I mean."

They -

They.

"You... don't know, huh?"

They.

"Damn it. Damn it. How the hell do ya expect me to agree to something with conditions like - "

They needed him.

"How - How do I know you won't screw me over? You could leave Ford on the other side, after. Not like I can do anything to stop you."

Ford. Stanford Filbrick Pines. The Author.

Everyone, this armageddon wouldn't be possible without help from our friend here. Give him a six-fingered hand!

His brother.

He was wrong. He could. When.

They said, you would do anything for more time.

They said, anything.

He hesitated.

He nodded.