Chapter 34

Disclaimer: Alex Hirsch owns Gravity Falls, not me. THIS IS PART ONE OF MY DOUBLE UPDATE.

"Ugh...w-what...what the...?" Stan grumbled into the darkness, glasses missing from his face. He reached out to his night stand, but frowned, when his hands found air instead. His mind felt thick with a fog swirling around, the recent memories unable to be reached. His hand grasped at the air, attempting to find any holding that his glasses could be on. His eyes were as blurry as his mind. Stan was startled as he brushed across a thick and soft substance, nearly as though he was grasping a handful of hair, a prickly sensation beginning to take hold of his fingertips. "What the he-?"

"Are you looking for your glasses, Grunkle Stan?" His grand-niece questioned near him, causing a jolt of surprise on his part.

"Uh, yeah...what...w-what's going on, sweetie? I'm sorta...ugh, m-my head feels sorta...ugh..." He moaned dizzily, feeling distant from his body, hand dropping from the silky hair he had gripped.

"Dr. Thompson said you would feel confused, cause of the all morphine he gave you...hold on, let me turn on the light..." A moment later, the light clicked on, causing him to squint against the brightness, eyes burning. "Here."

His glasses were pressed onto his face, Mabel's face swimming into view, revealing bandages to be wrapped around her head, covering her forehead. She appeared concerned by his behavior, though he felt as though her condition should be more concerning than any state he was in. His eyebrows furrowed together, eyeing the bandages. "Are you ok, kiddo?"

She frowned. "Grunkle Stan, you just had surgery and you're asking me if I'm ok?"

"Surg-? What are y-Oh...Oh. Shoot, where's Dipper?" He abruptly recalled the entire events that led him into the hospital in the first place, though his first thoughts jumped to the missing twin and his condition.

"He went to the bathroom..."

"Is he ok?"

"Yeah, he's not really hurt...um, Dr. Thompson told me to get him when you wake up." Mabel reached over his bed, pressing a button labelled "NURSE", on the railing on either side of his body.

"What about Gideon?" He continued on, distracted from the comment by his concern.

Mabel frowned. "Um...well...uhhh..."

"Good evening, Stanley," Doctor Dick Thompson greeted, as he entered the room, coat billowing behind him, leaving the rest of Mabel's words a mystery. He reached out to the sack of morphine dangling above the elder man's bag, poking the bag with his pen, before writing on the sheet on his clipboard his observations. Without a glance upwards, he continued on. "How are you feeling?"

"Uh...a little...numb and lightheaded...my fingers feel all tingly, but I think that's all..."

"Those are simply side effects of morphine, so you shouldn't worry much about that...Mabel, perhaps you and your brother head to the cafeteria. I know you two haven't ate since this morn-oh, yesterday morning and you need to keep up your strength if you want to be completely released from here."

"But, I-" She began to protest.

"Mabel, I need to speak to your grandfather, alone, please," Mabel finally deflated, reaching up to her bandages, stroking the material. She nodded after a moment, before standing from the seat she was in, heading out from the room. He glanced up from the clipboard, facing morphing into a scowl at the injured man before him. "Now that she's gone...What the hell is going on, Stan?"

"Look, it's really complicated and I-"

"Well, I have all day to hear it."

"Dick, this...oh, shit, where's my-?" His eyes had widened as he remembered his brother was back.

"Your son?"

Stan blinked in confusion. "Uh, yeahhhhh."

"Stanley Jr. is still out," The doctor sighed, as Stan realized that one of the twins had perhaps told the doctor that his twin brother was his actually his son. He supposed that would make more sense than having a twin brother half your age. "We had to give him a high dosage of sedatives, considering the amount of pain he would be in, if he woke. That's why I'm a bit surprised that you're awake now, though I'm glad you're not in pain at the moment."

He frowned at this. "Uh, how long have I been out?"

"Well, Dipper called me Thursday morning and it's Friday nigh-excuse me, early Saturday morning, so roughly two days."

"Two days? Jesus...And, how's Stanley's injuries?"

"Well, his injury on his shoulder was the worse, the muscles torn into from the...'bear' attack. They should mostly mend, though the function of his arm well no longer be as strong as his other one anymore."

The elder man squeezed his eyes shut, guilt consuming him. "...damn it..."

"It's not as bad as you believe it to be. Most of the function will be regained within time. I was slightly worried by his leg injury, but that was mostly a surface wound...you, honestly, are lucky to be alive I must say...moving that heap of metal on top of you was a bad move on my part, I must say..." He finished off sheepishly.

He raised an eyebrow. "You think?"

"As a doctor, I should of known better than to move any items from the scene, before accessing the damage done to the patient. I'm sorry fo-"

"Just tell me what the damage was, Dick." He cut off his friend, not wanting to hear the apology.

He glanced down at his clipboard, sighing, before drilling off the injuries. "The metal pole went cleanly through your stomach, out through your back, when you were first lying on it. You attempted to sit up it seemed as some point, because the opening increased in size from the movement. Luckily, it wasn't anywhere close to penetrating your spine, since it was off to the side of your stomach, instead of directly through the middle. When you were in surgery though...well... this is where it becomes odd, as your injury was already...well...it was..."

"It was what?" He prompted the confused doctor.

"The exit wound had nearly closed itself up, which I don't quite understand how in that amount of time could be poss-" Stan's ear rang at the sentence, the echoes of Bill Cipher haunting his mind, lost in the past. As I told you, you can't die, as you're part of my wheel, and my wheel has just begun it's movement. He couldn't breathe at the thought, after all these years, the notion that destiny controlled when he would die, caused him distress. "-ley? Are you in pain?"

He blinked, returning to the quiet hospital room. "Uh, yeah, I mean no. I'm fine. I was just thinking that it is weird, like you were saying, is all..."

Dick's eyes narrowed at him, though he didn't question that topic further. "I'm quite curious about the 'bear' though. They typically don't attack folks around here, unless provoked, so my question is...what was your son doing to provoke one?"

He figured one of twins told the doctor this lie as well and realized they wouldn't quite know that unprovoked bear attacks were rare, due to living more in the city. It seemed he hadn't taught them to lie in tense situations as well as he had originally believed he had. He needed to think fast to correct the mistake, but his mind continued to feel unnaturally foggy from the drugs coursing through his veins. "Uh... uhhhh...he uh...he got scared, since he hadn't seen one before... and uh...sorta freaked out. I tried to pull him away, but he got attacked before I could..."

"Hmmm, I see...and you brought him to your secret basement, instead of a hospital why exactly?"

Shit. "Uhhhhh...well, uhhh...I thought I could fix him up myself?"

"...Stan, I've known you 20 years and that's the crap you come up with? Honestly, from your reputation, I'm not impressed."

"Well, I'm not the one to come up with the bear story, so that lie ain't on me."

"Well, I suppose listening to your granddaughter, who believes a unicorn lives in the Northwest manor, wasn't the brightest idea on my part. Would you like to finally inform me of the truth though? Or, is this gonna be like the other thousand times you've averted the truth?"

Stan gulped, glancing away, feeling guilty about the lies he had told one of his few friends. "Dick...I...I can't..."

Dick hummed. "Well, I suppose I never will know exactly what your secret basement was for...anyways, at the rate you're healing, you'll be out by Monday."

"Dick, seriously, I wish I could tell y-"

"I'm going to check your injury now, Pines," He snapped on a pair of gloves, ignoring the wince he received at the use of his friend's last name. He set down the clipboard and tore Stan's covers from his body. He grasped the material of the elder man's hospital gown up, revealing his skin to the cool hospital air. The doctor gently tugged off the surgical bandage over his wound, revealing a stitched up wound in the front, partially healed skin combined with the stitching, though it appeared that they could be removed soon. "You don't have to look, if you feel squeamish."

"Nah, I've seen worse. Just don't touch i-" Stan released a gasp, as Dick's finger prodded near the opening, he felt a spasm of pain consume him.

"Is it tender there?"

"Yes, yes! Don-Ow! Stop touching it!" Stan swatted away the hands, the tingles of pain vanishing.

"I was worried that the dosage for your pain might of been too high, but it seems fine for the moment. We'll begin to ween you off later in the day. You may experience pains when we ween you off at a certain point, but you'll simply have to endure them."

"Alright, alright, just stop touching it!" He groused, while the doctor rolled his eyes at his dramatic cries. Dick began to reapply a new bandage over his wound, pressing down onto it, causing the spasms to briefly return. "...uuuugh...h-how's the kids' injuries?"

"Dipper was mostly unharmed, though he has bruising on his sternum, from an unknown object digging into the area. He did have two separate occasions where he had endured a panic attack while you were in surgery, but we were able to calm him down."

"God, that kid just never can relax...always worried about something..."

"That's what occurs when you have anxiety."

"Yeah, I know, I know...what about Mabel though? She had all those bandages on her head."

"A foreign object collided with her forehead, likely from the explosion, causing her to forcefully make contact with a wall. She's pretty bruised up on her back and I had to stitch up an open wound on her head. She also has a minor concussion, though I would of suspected worse when I first had a glimpse of her body. And, Gideon...well, since his nose has been broken before, it happened again, and is heavily bruised over this time. I had to pop it back into place, though I did it when he was unconsciousness, since I wasn't sure about his reaction. He woke up before Mabel did, Thursday night. He was pretty worried about you, though I assured him you were alright. You had just gotten out of surgery. Mabel woke around Friday afternoon."

"Jesus Christ..."

"Since I'm not a surgeon, I wasn't there during your son's operation, but he apparently woke, even though we had him heavily sedated, when they were half way through...he was pretty hysterical, though I would be too, if I woke having a scalpel being dug around inside my shoulder. They ended up slicing through one his tendons when he jerked upwards, but they were able to successfully stitch the damage back up."

"Of course he woke up..." He sighed out.

"...Stan, I would advise you against attempting to get up and finding your son for the time being. You're in no condition to be up and about."

"I ain't gonna do that."

"Stan."

"Ok, ok, I won't, I promise." He rolled his eyes, grumbling, strangely reminded of his brother by the tone aimed at him.

"I'll let you know when he's awake and perhaps we can eventually arrange for you to visit his room...the rate you're healing at, you should be fine the day after tomorrow..." Dick informed him. "...you know, I had to lie to my fellow employees about your condition."

The elder man gulped, glancing away. "You didn't have to."

"Yes, I did. If I had told them that you actually had an exit wound that had closed within minutes, they would of been stunned beyond any of their imaginations. If word had gotten out about your miraculous healing, you would of been in a world of trouble. And, image if the patient's grandchildren had to be sent home, after the patient's family had been informed that he was incapable of taking care of them. One would think, that after lying about a patient's condition, not call their relatives, both which could endanger my job, would the patient actually tell me the truth."

"Shit, Dick! You're making me feel like I'm a asshole with the guilt tripping you're doing! You wouldn't believe me, even if I told you!" He cursed, stomach beginning to feel tight from the pressure of his yells.

"I have been your friend for 20 years, I've seen you suffer through your alcoholism, and even tear apart the relationship with your nephew, and you still refuse to trust me!"

"I DIDN'T TEAR APART OUR RELATIONSHIP, HE DID IT HIMS-" He cut himself off with a strangled gasp, hand grasping at his stomach, hot pain jabbing at him through the haze of drugs he was on.

"Stanley, take a deep breath..." The doctor told him, hand pressing onto his shoulder, steadying him as he choked on his pain. Stanford gasped inwards, holding in his breath, before releasing it as a shudder, pain reducing by a fraction. He continued to repeat the action, before the pain completely melted away from his senses. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't of started an argument with you when you're injured like this. I honestly wish you would put a bit of faith into me though."

"I..I know...but..." Stan started at one of the few people he called friend in his life, the concern in the younger man's eyes, the trust he had placed into him over the years. The last person he had done that with, attempted to erase the existence of his twin from his own mind. Though, despite that knowledge, he continued to trust Fiddleford McGucket, though not with his life any longer. Richard Thompson hadn't betrayed him in any form and he knew he needed to take a chance, for the friend he had thought he had all those years ago. He released a weary sigh, sweat dripping from his browline. "...My name isn't Stanley; it's Stanford."

Dick raised an eyebrow. "Your son isn't named after you."

"Uh, actually, he's my...twin brother."

"...That's quite difficult to believe."

"Yeah, I know...it gets more hard to believe, trust me. I guess I should start from the beginning...Uh, my brother needed help to do this project he was working on, so he came to Gravity Falls, to meet up with Fiddleford McGucket..."

~!-?-!~

Dipper wrung his hands, pacing in front of the hospital room that his great-uncle and Dr. Thompson were in. He had been completely hysterical when the doctor had caused the elder man to lose consciousness. Dr. Thompson had released a series of curses at that point and had to send him away, to Gideon and Mabel, so that he couldn't witness any other traumatizing events. He had immediately scrambled from the heap of metal they were on, falling to his knees a few feet away from his sister, losing the contents of his stomach. He had begun to sob, voice coming out as a blubber, as he apologized repeatedly to his great-uncle, for nearly trapping him in a pocket dimension. He was brought back from his memory of the event, as Mabel grasped onto his shoulder, halting his pacing. "Bro, you need to chillax."

"I-I can't! Grunkle Stan is-"

"-fine. I told you that already."

"I-I know, but, I just want to see him, so I can just...see myself t-that he's ok..."

"You will, but Dr. Thompson didn't want us in t-" She was cut off by the sound of muffled angry yelling coming from the room, causing Dipper's face to crumple with worry. "Grunkle Stan is probably just mad about, uh, the lost of money, since we keep closing the Mystery Shack. He's ok...I think..."

The yelling died off, as Dipper nodded, releasing a sniffle. "Yeah...he would be mad about that...ha..."

"See? He's done yelling now and pretty soon we can both see him!"

"Yeah...w-where's Gideon? He's going to miss seeing him."

"I think he said he was going to go see his mom...she still hasn't woken up..." Mabel trailed off, feeling saddened by this fact.

"Oh...Do...Do you think she'll ever wake up?"

"I don't really know...I hope so..."

The door swung open, revealing the blank faced doctor, whose hands were clenching his clipboard. Mabel caught a glimpse of the sentences scrawling across his papers, gulping. Decrease morphine dosage tonight...may need to be watched, in case he decides to sneak off to see son... He shifted the board, hiding the rest of his sentences, as he stared at them. "You two may see your grandfat...uncle now..."

"Wait, you know?" Mabel asked, appearing surprised.

"Yes...your uncle told me many fascinating details...I need to head home and think this over...if you two need anything, ask Nurse Glenda for help..." He trailed off, shaking his head as he mumbled to himself. "...multiple dimensions..."

The twins glanced at one another, before watching him disappear down the darkened hallway, leaving them behind. The moment the doctor was out of sight, Dipper dashed into Stan's room, crying out his name in concern. The elder man cringed, when Dipper wrapped his arms around his aching torso, biting back the cry of pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, stroking the 13-year-old's hair, voice attempting to come out steady. "H-Hey there, kiddo."

The head of his great-nephew was burrowed into his chest and he buried his own face into the brunet's hair, breathing in the scent of pen ink and faded bug spray. He felt his concern melt away, replaced with an ache about what he had seen. He knew Dipper needed him close, especially after nearly witnessing him die before his eyes. Dipper's voice came out hoarse with emotion, words wobbling. "I-I missed you..."

"Missed you, too..." He muttered back and his great-nephew squeezed his torso tighter.

"What am I? Chopped bacon?" Mabel interrupted the scene, causing the pair to glance up at her scowling face, hands on her hips.

Stan grinned at her, shaking his head. "Come here, you little gremlin."

Mabel gulped, eyes filling with tears, before she sprinted to his opposite side, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face into his shoulder. He released a hiss of pain, before stroking her hair with his other hand. The twins wept into him and he sighed, feeling content. He glanced up from the pair, feeling eyes on him, revealing Gideon to be hesitantly lingering by the doorway. Stan studied the swelling of his nose and the bruising surrounding it, though he didn't comment. When he realized that the freckled boy wasn't moving towards him, he rolled his eyes. "You gonna stand there all day or come cry on me, too?"

Gideon warily approached his bedside, eyeing the twins. Stan waved him over, beginning to grow irritated with how long the 10-year-old was taking. "It's now or never, kid. I ain't doing a group hug like this, again."

"I-I'm n-not..."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not what?"

"I-I'm n-not f-family..." He whispered, barely aloud.

The twin's head whipped around at Gideon, appearing upset by his statement. Dipper's voice came out confident, the stutter vanished from his voice. "You are family, Gideon!"

"Yeah, and we love you!" Mabel continued on.

"Uh, yeah, what they said. Now, get over here." Stan concluded.

Gideon's lip wobbled, before he leaned forward, hugging the other side of the elder man's neck. A hand reached out to stroke his hair, causing him to burst into tears. "T-Thank y-you..."

~!-?-!~

"About damn time you woke up," His brother's voice wavered into his ears, as his eyes sluggishly fluttered open. Stanley licked his lips, releasing a groan, as Stan's face appeared, sitting in the chair before him, clad in a white button-up and a pair of dark slacks. He flipped through a magazine labelled "Gold Chains for Old Men Vol. 28", featuring the imagine of an older man in a water float, surrounded by women in swimsuits holding golden chains and wristwatches. He frowned at the cover, feeling creeped out by the image it held. "I'm talking to you, poindexter."

"I...I know...just...what the...hell are you reading?" He mumbled, voice thick with disuse.

"Only the greatest magazine in the history of the world."

"That's what...you said about Mad...magazine when we were...little..."

"Yeah, well, things change..." Stan muttered, eyes appearing distant, as the magazine laid in his lap.

Stanley would of picked up on his tone of voice, if he hadn't been as drugged as he was now. His voice came out slow, even to him, causing his words to slur together as he spoke. "Where...Where am I?"

"The hospital. You passed out cause of all the blood you lost."

"Oh...mhmm...what year...is it, again?" He asked, eyes fluttering shut.

"2012. It's July 29th, 2012."

"2012...ugh...2012...it's...2012..."

"Yeah, like I just said."

"Why is everything so...fuzzy?"

"Cause you're on morphine. More than I was, apparently, since you're acting like you're in the god damned clouds."

"Oh...you...alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just minor damage, like I said before you passed out."

"Oh...good...mhmm...can't feel my...shoulder..."

"That's supposed to be a good thing, poindexter. They tore pretty badly into your shoulder...and...Stanley...I'm...I'm sorry...if I didn't distract you when I showed up, they wouldn't have hurt you and if I didn't make that dea-" He began to ramble, voice tight with stress.

"You're rambling...stop..."

"No, seriously, I almost got you kille-"

"...no...you helped me..."

"What? How can you say that? Didn't you just hear what I said?"

"I did...you didn't almost kill me though...I'm here, because...you saved from there...you saved my life..."

"Jesus Christ, how could you forgive me after the deal I made?!" Stan exploded.

He frowned. "Deal?"

"Yeah, the deal, you know, the one I made with..." He trailed off, observing the confusion on his brother's face, before hunching over, hands forming into fists as realization hit him square in the face. "...you don't know what I did."

"What...did you do?"

"...It's my fault you were stuck there in the first place."

"What?"

His fists shook, becoming overwhelmed with nerves, yet he continued on, aware after he revealed the truth, his twin would be consumed with fury at his foolish actions he committed years before. "I made a deal with...B-Bill Cipher and in exchange...he would get to control my body. When the portal opened, he took me over and attacked F-Fiddles and the rope fell from his hands when I...b-broke his arm...all because I wanted to make that damn deal..."

"...Why?"

He felt tears welling in his eyes, but he held them back. "I-It's not important...it's my fault though, so if you hate me and never wanna see my ugly mug again, I ain't gonna hold it against y-"

"You're rambling...again...and I don't hate...you...I never could...you're my brother," Stan's head lifted at the words, gazing into his twin's hazy eyes, tears finally rolling down his aged cheeks. "It doesn't matter...why you made the deal...I'll always love you...Stanford..."

The elder man's lips wobbled at these words. "S-Stanley...I...I..."

"You can...tell me."

"I...you and Fidds were so...upset that the p-portal wouldn't work and I couldn't do anything a-and I wanted to h-help and...oh god...I-I'm sorry!" He completely fell apart at the end, the emotions of his brother appearing before him after all these years and the regrets he had held in, came washing out of his heart, leaving him a sobbing mess.

"Oh, Stanford...you didn't..." Stanley whispered, realizing his actions.

"I d-didn't know that would h-happen...I'm so s-sorry, god..." He trailed off, hunching over, hands grasping the material of his slacks. When he heard the moan released from his brother, his head shot upwards, revealing Stanley to be panting from his attempts to pull himself into a sitting position. Stan leaned forward, wrapping one of his arms around his waist, the other on his uninjured shoulder, assisting him to sit up. "What're you do-?"

He was startled, as the uninjured arm wrapped around his shoulders, Stanley flush against him, as he buried his face into the elder man's button up. His arms naturally wrapped around his twin's back, confusion overcoming him. "Uh, what...uh, w-what are you doing?"

"Hugging...you..." He breathed out, voice slurred with exhaustion.

"Uh, why...?"

"...did he hurt...you?"

"Wait, w-who?"

"Did...Cipher...hurt you?" Stan flashed back to the horror of his brother being trapped in another dimension, the reaction Fiddleford had given him, the nights of agony that followed, triangles mocking him throughout his attempts of sleep. In flashes, he mind provided him with images of himself staring at pictures of his brother for hours on end, Fiddleford ignoring his attempts of communication, the whiskey bottles piled throughout his living room as he would remember every detail of Bill Cipher controlling his body. The whiskey, oh god, he would only leave the house to buy that, that and Twinkies, his brother's favorite dessert. He drank and only ate Twinkies, as he body began to waste away, from his neglect. The triangles he hallucinated, the thick blood cascading across the floor, an endless flow of a river, drenching him it the wake that followed each and every night, NIGHT AFTER NIGHT, STANLEY'S BLOOD HAD BEEN DRENC-"-ford...?"

He jolted away from Stanley, as he removed himself from his flashbacks, frozen in place. He covered his face, glasses crooked, as he peeked through his fingers, viewing the red slipping down his twin's body. Shit, he couldn't do this anymore, the flashbacks were beginning to return, triggered further by thoughts of Stanley. He felt a hand run down the center of his chest, as though the movements were uncontrolled, the hand feebly clinging to the material, the wetness of thickened blood seeping into his button up. "What's wrong...?"

His eyes darted up from the hand, parts of brother's face seen in-between each finger, blood coming down in rivets, rivets thicker than the rivets of sweat beginning to take form on his own face. He dropped his hands, glasses shifting back into place, before he smiled at Stanley. No need to alarm him, especially with situations he had dealt with on his own for years. "Nothing. Yeah, he did hurt me, but it healed up. No scars or anything, Sixer."

The younger Pines grimaced, leaning back, eyes fluttering shut. "Please...don't call me that anymore...call me poindexter...or Lee...that name...reminds me of when...Bill would call me that..."

The blood continued to haunt his vision, as his brother faded off, back to a deep slumber, the distant cackling of the dream demon echoing around him. He would take these visions to the grave, the explicit details of the visions and his suicide attempt. Not a soul would discover these, though the dream demon would always hold the knowledge. "Ok, Lee..."

End Chapter 34

THIS IS PART ONE OF MY DOUBLE UPDATE. To celebrate the end of the world (I'm confident everyone reading this knows exactly what I'm referring to), I present to you lovely readers, a double update! Now, on to the next chapter, where I finally keep with my promise and have Gideon's 11th birthday, July the 31st!