Ford was starting to doze off again in his chair when Stan stirred. The hospital staff had allowed him to use the bed next to Stan's and stay the night. He was lucky he was in Gravity Falls or he wouldn't have gotten away with that. Despite their hospitality he hadn't slept well. Every half hour or so he would wake up in a panic and wouldn't be able to go back to sleep until he was sure Stan was still there and breathing.

As Stan's heart monitor began to pick up, Ford woke up the rest of the way. He leaned over to hit the nurse call button. He was supposed to notify them as soon as Stan woke up, but he paused when his brother let out a whimper.

Stan was starting to jerk and move around, his eyes twitching under their lids. He mumbled something. Ford couldn't understand what he was saying, but Stan sounded anxious and fearful. Likely a nightmare. He frowned and stood up.

"No… No… Por favor!"

Stan's voice was desperate and pleading. His face scrunched up and his thick grey brows drew together. He started to thrash around in his covers, left hand hitting weakly against the sheets.

Concerned that Stan was going to hurt himself and hating to see him in distress, Ford moved to his side and gently rested a hand on his shoulders.

"Wake up you're dreaming."

Stan shot into an upright position and jerked away from his hand, yelling, "Por favor, me no mata!"

His eyes opened wide and swept around the room before coming to rest on Ford. For one heart wrenching moment there was no recognition in those brown orbs, only fear and desperation.

"Stan, it's me," Ford said gently, hand outstretched. He hesitated, afraid of spooking Stan again. A part of him that feared Stan had forgotten him. Perhaps the trauma would set Stan back to that place where Ford was just a stranger who shared his face.

The clock ticked noisily for a few seconds before he could see it click in Stan's mind. His eyes finally focused on Ford and he truly saw him. Stan's shoulders shook for a moment and his lip trembled, then he lurched forward and latched onto him in a tight hug. Ford reciprocated, but tried to pull back when Stan let out a hiss of pain. His brother wouldn't let go. Gnarled fingers twisted into the back of his shirt like he was a life raft. Ford settled for keeping a firm but gentle grip as Stan shook violently against him.

They stayed that way for a while until the worst subsided and Stan let go with another hiss of pain. Ford gently lowered him onto the bed.

"W-what happened," Stan asked in a weak voice.

He grimaced.

"Ugh, I sound pathetic, shaking like a baby. I'm such a wimp"

He clutched his fist into the sheets in an attempt to stop it from shaking. Ford rested one of his own hands over it and then gently tilted Stan's chin up with the other.

"No, you are not." He said firmly.

"You just went through something horrible and it's normal to be acting like this. I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty I would not be doing any better."

There was a grateful gleam in Stan's eyes even if he still wouldn't make eye contact with Ford.

"How did I end up here?" He asked hesitantly.

"The last thing I remember is… is.. the trunk was leakin' an' it hurt and.. and.."

Stan's breathing increased and hand started clenching and unclenching sporadically on the sheets.

Ford cut him off by resting his hand on his shoulder.

"I went looking for you when you didn't call me down for dinner. I found your car parked by the grocery store with some blood by it. Multibear helped me find you and rescue you from the trunk. You were briefly conscious, but not very lucid. I suppose you do not remember that."

Stan shook his head.

There was a soft "A-hem" and the two turned to see a nurse standing awkwardly by the door.

"If you don't mind I need to check you over, Mr. Pines."

She wheeled a tray of bandages and medical instruments over to the side of the bed opposite Stanford.

Over the next half-hour or so she checked him over, then cleaned his wounds and redid his bandages. Ford noticed that Stan would flinch occasionally, even though the nurse was being as gentle as possible. Occasionally his eyes would dart around as if looking for an escape route. Ford suspected the only reason Stan hadn't tried to make a run for it was his presence at his side.

There were a lot of people, literally the whole town in fact, that wanted to check in on Stan, but Ford made sure they kept the visitors to a minimum. Stan was jumpy and too many people or a lot of noise put him on edge. Every once in a while he would have a panic attack or Ford would find him just staring blankly at a wall. Those times scared Ford the most because he would be completely unresponsive, often for more than an hour.

It was the third day after Stan had woken up that the doctor said he could go home. He felt that Stan's mental health would be better in a familiar environment.

Ford decided it was time to ask him about what happened. He wasn't entirely sure what the right time was so he brought it up rather abruptly when they were sitting in the living room having lunch.

"So can you tell me about your history with this "Jorge"?"

Stan tensed up and Ford prepared to backpedal, not wanting to upset his brother.

"No that's okay," Stan said noticing his panicked expression.

He sighed and averted his eyes to the side.

"Actually I think it's probably important for you to know a little about my past just in case someone else comes after me."

Ford frowned, that didn't sound good.

Stan gave a little self-depreciating chuckle and drew his blanket tighter around himself.

"Honestly I hadn't remembered much about that time before this happened."

Ford moved closer and draped an arm over his shoulder. Stan leaned into his touch and relaxed a little.

"Over the years that I was on the street I did some pretty bad things. Things a lot worse than conning some suckers and evading taxes. I've tangled with a lot of people I shouldn't 'av. I met Jorge when I was in prison in Columbia, we worked together during a prison break and then, afterward, he offered me a job. I was pretty low on options at that point, so I accepted."

Stan was keeping his face turned away from Ford while he was talking and his shoulders were hunched in. Ford couldn't read his expression. He paused and took a deep shuddering breath.

"He wanted me to… to move some… slaves that they were going to sell over the border. Even I have lines I won't cross and this was beyond wrong. I acted like I was going along with it, and then let them off at a safe place. Afterward I hightailed it back toward the States. I made it about as far as South Mexico before a gang that he was allied with caught me."

Stan wrapped one arm around his shoulder and the other hand drifted to a spot on his side.

"They turned me over to Jorge, who had apparently got into a lot of trouble over my actions. He beat me, locked me in the trunk of my car and left me in the desert to die."

A memory surfaced in Fords mind of that conversation, well yelling match, before he got sucked into the portal.

"You said you chewed your way out of the trunk of a car."

Stan nodded.

"Kinda. I actually used my teeth to rip a big enough hole in the car boot to get at the locking mechanism."

They sat for a moment in silence as Ford processed this.

"So this bastard did this to you before?"

More of his anger must have reached into his expression than he thought, because Stan flinched away, eyes widening. Ford closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He was ready to hunt down and kill this Jorge with his bare hands, but he didn't want to unintentionally let out his anger around Stan. No he would push it down deep inside and save it and then when he had access to Jorge, then he could let it out all at once. It wouldn't do to be impatient.

"Thank you for telling me."

Ford gave Stan's arm a reassuring squeeze. In the past Stan would have tried to laugh it off, but over the past few months they had spent in close quarters on the Stan o'War they had started to realize they didn't have to fight their personal demons alone.

"Would you like some more stew?" Ford asked Stan.

He shook his head.

"I'm not terribly hungry anymore. I might just see what's on TV."

Ford gave an understanding nod and went into the kitchen to wash their plates.

In the privacy of the kitchen Ford set the plates down a little harder than necessary and let his anger rise to the surface a little. He couldn't go looking for Jorge but then he didn't have to. Jorge would be coming to him very soon.

He smiled slightly remembering the town meeting that had occurred while Stan was still in the hospital. Ford had explained what had happened to Stan and asked for their help. The townsfolk were outraged and had readily agreed. He suspected they would have gone after Jorge anyway even without Ford asking. The townsfolk and some of the friendly supernaturals would hunt him down and bring him back to Ford for the final payback.

Ford let a wicked grin spread across his face. He was going to enjoy this.