Hey-o, everybody! Now, just to let y'all know, this is NOT my own work. This is the work of "ineffablye". You can go take a look at their story stuff, but basically I offered to post his chapter and Au idea-oneshot thingy onto here. Can't recall if it's actually going to become multichapter, but either way, go check out their work!
Guest Author's Note: "Hi! I'm ineffablye! The story you're about to read is the first chapter of my own fic, "In This Together." I spent God knows how long editing and changing things around in this story, but hopefully it's turned out alright. Check it out if you're interested in what happens next!
I'm super excited to be able to post this as a guest author in Liliana's work! She had originally come to me with the idea of a guest chapter as well as a collaborative fic, and I am pumped for both!
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!"
Drabble 9: In This Together(borrowed)
Stanley grunted a bit and wrenched at the transmission, shifting into third gear with some effort. Almost immediately, an awful grinding sound erupted from the engine, and Stan yelped a bit in surprise. Leaning forward, he stared wide eyed at the hood of the car, holding his breath in anticipation. He only allowed himself to exhale after the noise dulled to a soft putter.
Christ, that had startled him.
He gave the steering wheel an absentminded pat. The old car certainly had its quirks, but it still ran like a champ when push came to shove. It was like him–it had personality, chugging along no matter what the circumstance.
Now that he thought about it, it was probably more successful at the latter than he was.
He sighed and glanced over to the passenger seat. The postcard Stanford had sent lay there innocently, or as innocently as it could with its vague-and-yet-ominous message hastily scribbled on the back. There was something foreboding about the small card, and even underneath the overwhelming awkwardness and anxiety that came with the prospect of reuniting with his twin, Stanley could tell there was something even darker lurking under the surface.
He pushed those thoughts aside hastily. He was just over thinking things now, an idea that in itself was actually kind of funny. 'Over thinking' as it was, had once been a foreign concept to him, but in recent months he discovered that he was increasingly doing just that.
Shaking his head, Stan tried to reassure himself. Nothing bad was happening. It came to reason that his brother would want to see him again, after all this time. Maybe the thought of international treasure hunting had regained that adventurous glow that had originally drawn the two to the idea. Hell, he was probably bored to death, holed up in some little nowhere town with his research...That had to be it. Hadto be.
He let out a sharp, bitter laugh, although nothing about the thought had been particularly humorous. Who was he trying to kid here? Certainly not himself.
Stanley tightened his grip on the steering wheel and returned his gaze to the road.
The snow thickened as he neared Gravity Falls, and a few miles across the city boundaries, he was finally forced to pull over.
It was a complete whiteout.
Stan grunted a bit in irritation, drumming his fingers against the rim of the steering wheel. It was becoming clear that unless he wanted to try his luck against the steadily dropping temperatures, he'd have to tough the rest of the way out on foot. Half turning, he shoved a couple boxes of failed merchandise off the seat behind him and grabbed his duffel, slinging it over his shoulder with bitter exasperation.
Then, finally, accompanied by only his pack and the begrudging air of someone who really didn't want to ask for directions, he pushed open his door, stepped out of the car, and headed off to do exactly that.
It took ten weary minutes of being given a series of convoluted instructions for Stan to pry an understandable route from the conversation. And, while he certainly didn't appreciate having his ears talked off, he managed to learn some of the history surrounding his brother's stay.
Apparently Ford come to Gravity Falls a few years prior, and had remained reclusive in his home. However odd lights and strange noises had drawn the attention of a few of the more curious locals. Reports of supernatural creatures began to grow as well, particularly in the last few weeks. Gnomes, fairies, scientologists…some were more dangerous than others. The woman continued to drone on, listing off any other abnormalities she could think to name.
Stan couldn't help but scoff at the notion, and chalked it up to local superstition. Heck, if this woman was anything to go by, then the residents of Gravity Falls weren't exactly the brightest in the box. Who knows what they were really seeing? Swamp gas or weather balloons…it could have been any number of things.
Shaking his head, he thanked her for her help, and began the cold trek towards 618 Gopher Road.
He arrived at what he assumed to be the house fairly quickly. As it turned out, he wasn't that far off course, having parked his car only just down the road. Pushing aside a few brambles, he brushed himself down and stepped out into the clearing.
It looked like something out of a movie.
The windows, as far as he could tell, had been boarded up ages ago, and a rotating satellite dish took up most of the front yard. Stanley glanced at the sign beside him. It was wrapped in barbed wire, which spun out from it's base and littered the ground in every which way.
Ford certainly knew what to use to add that extra homey touch.
Carefully, Stan walked up the creaking porch stairs and raised his arm to knock, but in a moment of self doubt, he hesitated.
He could feel himself begin to get cold feet*.
He felt like turning on his heel and running away–back to his car, back to New Mexico, back to his crummy motel...The conflict of emotions involved in this was beginning to feel like too much. It was like he was standing at the telephone booth again, fidgeting with the cord as he nervously waited for Ford to pick up.
Except that this time, there might not be another opportunity to call again.
Stanley took a deep breath and looked at the door. He had driven over a thousand miles to meet his brother. He couldn't afford to turn back now. Whatever it was his brother had called him here for–he needed him, that much had been obvious.
He squared himself and lifted his arm to try again.
"You haven't seen your brother in over ten years...It's okay. He's family. He won't bite."
The weak attempt at reassuring himself didn't do much. Nevertheless, he banged on the door and listened to the knocks echo throughout the house.
He waited.
And then suddenly he was staring down the shaft of a very real, very deadly crossbow.
"Who is it? Have you come to steal my eyes?!"
Panic flashed through Stanley as he jerked back in surprise, but the shock of the situation quickly turned to irritation and concern as he realized it was his twin. His frown deepened.
"...Well, I can always count on you for a warm welcome."
There was a brief pause as his words sank in, and after a moment of scrutiny, the look of animalistic fear on Stanford's face faded to recognition. He lowered the weapon, but the tense stance and wary look remained.
"Stanley," he started. There was a hint of relief in his voice, but it was immediately overshadowed by a grim caution, "Did anyone follow you? Anyone at all?"
The amount of paranoia in the question warranted an eye roll. Stanley was familiar with the fear that came with being on the run–one of the many perks of his own occupation–but even this seemed excessive.
He shifted his weight. "Hello to you too, pal–AUGH–"
Stan was abruptly yanked into the house, tripping over his own feet as Ford pulled him up by the collar and examined his eyes.
"HEY–" After a moment of struggle, Stan managed to smack down his brother's arm and quickly took a few steps back, distancing himself. "What is this?!"
A guilty expression quickly passed across Ford's face, and he rubbed the back of his head nervously.
"Sorry, I just...had to make sure you weren't..." he paused for a moment's consideration, then shook his head dismissively and motioned for the other to step inside. "It's nothing. Come in, come in."
Stanley closed the door behind him as he entered the house, then turned to his brother, waiting for an explanation.
"Look, are you going to explain what's going on here? You're acting like Mom after her tenth cup of coffee."
Or possibly her hundredth.
He folded his arms and looked Stanford over carefully for the first time since he arrived. There was really only one way to describe the other's appearance; in the most simple of terms, he looked like shit.
The normally put together scientist had dark bags circling his eyes, which were bloodshot and wild. His clothes were rumpled, hair greasy and unkempt, and the scruffy five o'clock shadow covering the lower half of his face gave off a disheveled air that didn't fit into the other's normally pristine demeanor.
"Listen," Ford started, "There isn't much time. I've made a huge mistake, and I don't know who I can trust anymore."
The sudden comment jerked Stan out of his thoughts and he looked worriedly at his brother, gesturing for Ford to calm down.
"Hey, easy there...Let's talk this through, okay?" He gave what he hoped to be a reassuring smile, but it came out as more of an awkward, twitching grimace. Moments passed, and even that began to waver as the silence between them grew.
Then Ford spoke, a quiet sort of voice Stan had to strain to hear. "I have something to show
you...Something you won't believe."
There it was; that old melodramatic attitude, as per Stanford. If Stanley hadn't been so terrified he might've actually laughed, but instead he simply let out a scoff. "Look, I've been around the world, okay? Whatever it is, I'll understand!"
"There is nothing about this I understand."
Stanford seemed to be fighting back a heavy sigh, but nonetheless turned away from the machine to face his brother. He gestured behind him at the portal and began to explain.
"It's a trans-universal gateway; a punched hole through a weak spot in our dimension. I created it to unlock the mysteries of the universe, but it could just as easily be harnessed for terrible destruction." There was a pause to let the information sink in, and he lookedat Stan gravely.
"That's why I shut it down and hid my journals which explain how to operate it. There's only one journal left, and you are the only person I can trust to take it." Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a rust colored, leatherbound book, a golden six fingered hand pasted on the front. He held it out for Stan, who took it with a bewildered sort of awe.
"I have something to ask of you. Remember our plans to sail around in a boat?"
Clutching the journal, Stanley nodded. How could he have forgotten? He'd give anything to be in that boat with his brother, to live the life they had dreamt of as children. The thought that perhaps it was still possible brought a small, yet hopeful smile to his face.
"Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as you can! To the edge of the Earth! Bury it where no one can find it!"
Instantly, the smile vanished, morphing into a glare, and his fingers gripped the book tightly. He could feel his nails digging into the leather.
He clenched his teeth and stepped forward.
"That's it? You finally want to see me after ten years, and it's to tell me to get as far away from you as possible?!"
"Stanley, you don't understand what I'm up against! What I've been through!"
"No, no." He was shaking now. He could feel the shudders traveling down his body and he saw red. Angrily, he jabbed a finger into Ford's chest, "You don't understand what I've been through! I've been to prison in three different countries! I once had to chew my way out of the trunk of a car! You think you've got problems?!" Stan grabbed at his own hair and gestured to it wildly, "I HAVE A MULLET, STANFORD!
Whichever of the three hit the hardest, Stan couldn't tell, but an ashamed expression had crossed Ford's face. Stanley himself even felt a pang of guilt, but he quickly brushed it aside, his anger getting the better of him.
"Meanwhile, where have you been? Living it up in your fancy house in the woods, selfishly hoarding your college money because you only care about yourself!"
The other gave him an incredulous stare.
"I'm selfish?" Ford said softly, as if in disbelief. "I'm selfish, Stanley?! How can you say that after costing me my dream school?!" His volume had grown increasingly with each word and now he was practically shouting. "I'm giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life, and you won't even listen!"
"Well, listen to this! You want me to get rid of this book, right? Fine!" He waved the journal in front of Ford and shoved his hand into his pocket, desperately grasping for his lighter. "I'll get rid of right now!"
"No! You don't understand–"
"You said you wanted me to have it so I'll do what I want with it!"
"My research–"
A body slammed into Stanley and he shouted, tumbling over, frantically kicking and wrestling to keep the journal. His mind was racing in a blurred frenzy. He couldn't think.
"Stanley! Give it back!"
He could feel his back hitting buttons and levers, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All those years of resentment towards his twin, all those years of anger towards Stanford for leaving him, for not speaking up, for never even trying to call–
The portal made a crackling noise as it began to power on.
"You want it back?! You're gonna have to try harder than that!" He shoved the other as hard as he could, sending him sprawling. "You left me behind, you jerk! It was supposed to be us forever! You ruined my life!"
"You ruined your own life!"
Stan could feel the other kick him in the chest, knocking him back, and then there was a pain. It was a blinding, searing pain in his shoulder. Tears came to Stan's eyes and he let go of the book, screaming.
He fell to the ground, clutching at his arm breathlessly.
He could faintly hear his brother apologizing and asking if he was alright, but he didn't care. Pushing himself to his feet, he flung a fist out and was satisfied when it was met with a resounding crack.
He began to walk towards Stanford, an icy glare boring into the other's forehead.
"Some brother you turned out to be! You care more about your dumb mysteries than your family! Well, you can have 'em!"
He shoved the book at Ford angrily, squeezing his eyes shut, and felt a strong tug as a hand wrapped around his wrist.
He stumbled forward, tripping over his own feet, and he flung out his arms to break his fall.
It never came.
Wrenching his eyes open, he looked down, the ground now a good three feet below him.
"Whoa, whoa, hey–what's going on?" He looked to the other, terrified, briefly forgetting about the fight they had seconds earlier, "Hey, Stanford!"
"Stanley!" Ford's grasp on his wrist tightened, "Stanley, listen to me! Whatever you do–Don't let go of me, alright?! Don't let go–!"
Stanley could only nod, speechless as he turned his head towards the portal, and gripped at the other's coat in fear. The light from the portal was almost blinding and he could feel a warm jolt as he began to pass through.
Then, everything went black.
*Literally, too. It had to be in the northern boonies, didn't it?
Again, this is the work of " ", not me, and I've just been given permission to help share this idea. I might do this in other places and with other fics, but it's not super-likely, as I'm not sure how much permission I'll gain here-and-there, and I refuse to steal or copyright.
Please review!