Shermie had known that Ford was paranoid and anxious, but hearing it over the phone and seeing it in person were two completely different things. Ford questioned both him and Stan before he even let them in the house. He spoke in hushed tones and looked around nervously, like he was worried that they were being watched. And then there was the state of his house.
Ford had always been a messy person, too focused on writing out and exploring his ideas while they were in their head to bother stopping to organize and clean things up. But this cabin wasn't Ford's normal scattered, organized chaos. This was a disaster. Papers were everywhere, there were somehow clothes scattered around the floor, and the kitchen looked like it had never been cleaned.
Shermie was also worried that Stan didn't seem to have noticed that there was a problem. He didn't blink twice at the mess, or make a passive aggressive comment about it. Stan was acting like this was normal, and it had Shermie worried about the condition that Stan could have been living in. Did Stan think it was normal for someone to have all of their belongings in sight? Whether it be because they didn't have enough belongings for it to be a concern, they didn't have anywhere to put all their stuff, or they literally didn't have any time to tidy things up just a little bit.
All options were concerning when it came to Stan. Shermie wished he knew what his little brother's life had been like. He wanted to talk about it, but Ford was rambling right now, and Stan was talking to him in a quiet, concerned voice. He had every right to be bitter, but Stan was easily sliding back into the role of caretaker. He wouldn't do that if he didn't think that something was seriously wrong.
So Shermie would prioritize Ford, but keep an eye on Stan, because somebody had to.
Ford brought them downstairs, into a secret basement. He never stopped talking, and Shermie wasn't paying attention to any of it. Ford's tone and his overly loquacious language was hard to follow, and it was all Shermie could do to just wonder why he was talking like this.
Ford had always been so smart, but he usually dumbed things down and talked more casually. The exceptions were when he was nervous, and trying to use his smarts to hide it, or when he was angry, and using that big head to make the people around him feel like idiots. Shermie thought that the first one was the case this time, but he wouldn't be surprised if it was the second. After all, it had been ten years since Ford had reached out to Stan, and he'd been bitter this whole time.
Shermie desperately hoped that his brother wasn't just trying to talk all fancy and confusing like because he wanted to make Stan feel like an idiot, or to prove to their baby brother just how well he was doing without him. If that was what Ford was doing, then whether he was in trouble or not, Shermie would knock some sense into that knuckleheaded brain of his.
The basement was nothing and everything like what Shermie had expected. It didn't fit with the cosy isolated cabin feel of the rest of Ford's home, but it definitely suited his brother much more. Beeps and flashing lights that made Shermie feel like he had walked onto the set of a sci-fi movie. He would actually be concerned if Ford had a secret lab that didn't look like this.
Although, there were a lot more triangles to be seen than Shermie had expected.
They were led into a massive room with a big triangle thing that Ford called a trans-universal gateway. After hearing that, Shermie tuned everything Ford was saying out. This was just…this was a lot to take in. He hadn't come here to try to save the world, which he thought he'd heard Ford mention something about. He was here to save his brothers.
But Stan wasn't talking about what was going on with him, and Ford was talking about problems that had to do with everything but his own personal issues.
Shermie wanted to grab Ford by his shoulders and give him a good shake. He wanted to know why Ford had built a doomsday machine or something, only to prattle on about how dangerous it was. Why couldn't he have just made it to be less dangerous? Or just not made it at all? Why was he being so secretive? And who was it that was threatening Ford and scaring him so much?
But Ford was talking to Stan. He was looking him in the eyes and actually talking to him, without glaring, or yelling, or mentioning that stupid school of his. Shermie knew this couldn't last, but he just wanted things to be okay between his brothers, so he said nothing and instead examined the portal.
It looked like something that Ford would build, but there was something about it that felt so wrong. How could one person make something like this? And why? Was having an easy answer for all his questions really worth all this danger and paranoia? What had Ford been thinking? And why hadn't Shermie noticed before that something was wrong?
Ford had been acting weird for weeks, but this portal and secret lab would have taken far longer than that to build. How could he have not noticed what his brother was up to all this time?
All of a sudden, Shermie heard raised voices, and he tuned back into the discussion between his brothers. They had been having a civil discussion one second, and the next they were arguing about everything that they had let come between them in ten years. The distance. Their dream of sailing the world. That stupid, stupid school. And, of course, the usual game of 'whose life is worse'.
Shermie wanted to stop the fight, but he thought that this was something that needed to happen. Sometimes people couldn't let go of something until they had the chance to get it off their chest. Ford had ranted about all these things before, but the only one he had wanted to say these to had been Stan. This was his chance. Maybe when he finally said it, he could finally leave it behind him.
Shermie approached his arguing brothers, ready to step in should things get out of line or physical. In the meantime, he tried to figure out if there was a way he could mediate this conversation without shutting his two brothers down and making either of them feel like they weren't being heard.
Just as quickly as things escalated into an argument, they became a fight. Shermie wasn't at his brothers' side yet when Stan threatened to burn Ford's book, and Ford freaked out. Between the two of them, Shermie had thought that Stan would start a fight with a punch. Ford was either angrier or more desperate than he thought, because he actually tackled his twin, pushing both of them to the ground. Ford scrambled to his feet first, reaching for that dumb book of his like it was a priceless treasure.
"Stanford!" Shermie grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him back. "What in the world are you doing?" While Shermie had Ford in his grip, Stanley got up and dashed for that book. Something that he actually couldn't care less about. He was just going after it out of spite.
Shermie knew Stan. He knew that he might light the book on fire, but then he'd immediately feel guilty and put it out. The book cover was thick enough that it should be just fine. It could take a few scorch marks.
Ford was either so protective of his research that he didn't want to risk it, or he didn't really trust Stan anymore.
"Stanley, no! My book!" Ford squirmed to get out of his grip, and in doing so he accidentally kicked Shermie's twisted ankle. He grunted in pain and let his brother go. Ford ran into the other room after Stan. Shermie groaned, frustrated. How was it that he had ended up with the most stubborn, stupid brothers? He would do anything to help them, but they weren't making it easy.
Shermie heard a whirring sound and the entire room seemed to light up. He looked over his shoulder to see the portal glowing and turning on. He had a very bad feeling about this.
"Ford?" Shermie tore his gaze from the portal. He could still hear his brothers yelling and shoving each other into machinery. "Guys?"
He heard a horrifying sound that he was sure would haunt his dreams. A scream of pain, and it felt like it lasted forever. Shermie hadn't heard this scream in more than ten years, but he still recognized it all too well.
"Stan?!" Shermie ran to the door, despite the burning pain in his ankle. Ford was standing in the doorway, looking anxious and rambling apologies. He was the least of Shermie's concerns right now. He pushed Ford aside and reached out to Stan just as his brother lurched to his feet and lunged forward, his fist pulled back.
Shermie didn't flinch back or try to block a hit. He met Stan head-on and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a hug. Stan's body was so tense, but the second he was in Shermie's arms he seemed to have all of his fight drained out of him. Stan leaned against him, whimpering. Stan seemed to lose complete control and his legs didn't want to support him anymore. He would have collapsed to the ground if Shermie didn't catch him.
"Hang on, Ley." Shermie's voice shook. "Hang on. You…you're going to be okay, yeah? Look at me and tell me you know you're going to be okay." Stan didn't lift his head, or groan in acknowledgement. His body seemed to grow more limp, and Shermie could only support him for so long.
He lowered his brother to the ground, kneeling next to him and having Stan rest his head on his legs. Shermie got a good look at Stan's back, and he was horrified to see the bright red on his shoulder. It looked like a second or even third degree burn, but the part that made Shermie feel like he was going to be sick was that though there was a large area that was burned, he could see a distinct pattern burned into the skin.
A pattern that Shermie could see out of the corner of his eyes on one of the machines here. A bright red, burning hot symbol.
Stan had been branded.
Shermie blinked back tears. He couldn't afford to get upset right now. Stan was burned and either unconscious or pretty close to it. He could hear Ford behind him hyperventilating. Shermie was the older brother here. He needed to be the strong one. That was his job.
He took a deep breath and brushed Stan's long hair away from the burn. It didn't look like his jacket or shirt had melted into his skin, which Shermie couldn't be more grateful for. That was one less problem to deal with, and about a thousand others to think of.
It was hard to focus, and hearing Ford freaking out behind him was not helping.
"Ford, calm down." Shermie said. He reluctantly turned his gaze away from Stan to look back at Ford, only to see that he was leaning over his missions, pushing buttons and talking to himself frantically. "Stanford!"
"The portal. I have to…I have to turn it off." Ford sounded like he was about to faint. Shermie would normally feel bad for him and try to calm him down, but he was beyond sympathy for Ford.
"Stanford." Shermie raised his voice, not quite shouting, but certainly firm. "Help me."
"No, I need to do this." Ford said. "I can't let it turn on. I can't…I can't. I have to do this."
Shermie knew that Ford was very single-minded about things. He also knew that Ford had a habit of avoiding thinking about problems he didn't know how to fix by hyper-focusing on things he thought he had some control over. Him working on the portal could just be a defense mechanism because he wasn't ready to process the fact that Stan was injured. Shermie understood this, but he had no patience for it right now.
"Stanford Filbrick Pines, listen to me!" Shermie shouted. Ford flinched, but didn't look back towards him.
"The portal is dangerous." Ford said.
"You want to know what else is dangerous?" Shermie hissed. "A third degree burn when the closest hospital is two towns away, and we can't leave this cabin thanks to the blizzard."
Ford shuddered and stopped playing with his machinery. Shermie took a deep breath and continued in a quieter, but still firm tone.
"We're all Stan has right now." Shermie said. "If we don't get this burn taken care of, it'll get infected, and Stan could get seriously sick. Please, help me."
Ford was still for a long moment before he slammed his hands on the machinery and turned towards Shermie.
"W-what can I do?" Ford asked. Shermie was surprised, but exceptionally grateful that Ford was willing to divert his focus.
"Do you have a first-aid kit or something to treat a burn?" Shermie asked. And somewhere comfortable and clean for Stan to rest?"
"Yeah…yeah." Ford stood up. "Fid-Fiddleford's room is cleaner than mine. It might be dusty, but I can switch out the sheets." His gaze was kinda glazed over, but Shermie knew that his brother was completely focused. He was pushing down his emotions and trying to think about this as logically as he could. Shermie always worried a little when Ford did this, but he couldn't help but appreciate it.
"Lead the way." Shermie grabbed Stan and, after some struggling, got him into position for a fireman's carry. Stan looked like a hefty guy, but he weighed less than Shermie expected. It was concerning, but it was something he would have to put on the backburner. One problem at a time.
Ford took one last look at the portal before leaving the room, but he went to the elevator anyway. Shermie didn't exactly feel guilty, but he felt bad. "Will the portal be okay until we get Stan taken care of?"
Ford swallowed thickly. "I don't like it, but yes. It's not technically activated yet. It's just charging. As long as nobody turns it on, it should be fine for a little bit." That made Shermie feel better.
"I'll help you take care of the portal." Shermie said. "Just…let's take care of Stan."
They went back upstairs and Ford led him to a small bedroom that clearly didn't belong to him. Ford took some books off the bed, dropping them carelessly on the ground, and helped Shermie lay Stan down on it.
"Tell me where the sheets are." Shermie said. "I'll get them while you get the first-aid stuff." He didn't want to leave Stan alone for a second, but it would be faster this way. The sooner they had things gathered, the sooner they could take care of their little brother.
Ford took Shermie to a closet near the front door. "They're right in here." As soon as he showed him, Ford ran off to get the things they needed. Shermie grabbed the sheets, and then he remembered something in the car that might come in handy. Alex had started scouts the previous year, and Shermie thought he had his handbook in the car. There was all sorts of useful information about survival and injuries. There had to be something about burns in there.
Sheets in hand, Shermie went outside. He went to his car and grabbed the book from the backseat. Thank goodness for Alex leaving his things everywhere. At the last second Shermie grabbed the cold box of pizza and bag of food he had grabbed on the way up here. That had felt so long ago. He was hungry though, and he knew his brothers had to be starving. For all he knew, for Stan, it was literal.
Shermie wasn't in the mood for pizza, but he knew they needed to eat something. They wouldn't be at their best if they were hungry.
He returned to the room where Stan was. He set the food and scout book on the desk and brought the sheet to the bed. It would be too much effort to completely strip the bed right now, so Shermie instead just laid the clean sheet under his brother. It would have to be good enough for now.
Ford returned within a few minutes, a large duffel bag in his arms. "I scratched myself pretty badly once about a year ago. We got it taken care of okay, but after that Fiddleford insisted on having an extensive first-aid kit. I thought it was overkill, but, well, I'm glad for it now."
"So am I." Shermie said. Ford put the duffel bag on the ground and started digging through it. His hands were shaking. Shermie sighed and put his hand on his shoulder. "Ford, slow down. I'll take care of it. Sit down, take some deep breaths, have at least two slices of pizza, and then come back to this with a clear head."
Ford's shoulders started trembling too, and it took Shermie a long moment to realize that he was sobbing.
"I-I have to fix this." Ford said. "This is my fault. It's all my fault. I didn't want to…I never meant to…" He choked on a sob and lowered his head, curling in on himself. "I didn't want to hurt him. I didn't…I don't…I'm sorry."
"Hey, hey, Ford, it's okay." Shermie knelt and hugged his brother from behind. Ford leaned back into him. "These things happen sometimes." He would definitely be having stern words with Ford about what had happened, but that could wait until they had all calmed down and were okay.
"I just keep messing things up." Ford said, sounding far too young and vulnerable. "I feel like everything I touch just turns into a disaster." Shermie had remembered Stan saying similar things when they were younger. It broke Shermie's heart that as different as his brothers were, this was what they had most in common.
Shermie knew that Ford didn't mess everything up, and neither did Stan. It would be hard to convince him of that right now though. He had to try a different strategy.
"Well, that's what family's for, isn't it?" Shermie said quietly. "Helping you when you dig yourself in too deep." He gave Ford a tight hug. "You can't be so hard on yourself. You can't keep blaming yourself for every little thing that goes wrong." Even if a doomsday device and branding his brother's shoulder were undoubtedly really big things that had gone wrong. "You need to forgive yourself, and try to fix things. But you can't fix anything if you don't take care of yourself."
Shermie stood up, pulling Ford to his feet. "Just give yourself a few minutes. That's all I ask. And then you can help me take care of Stan. Fair enough?" Ford bit his lip and slowly nodded. Shermie breathed a sigh of relief. He gave Ford one more hug before dragging him to a chair.
"Five minutes, and then I'm helping." Ford said. Shermie smiled and shoved a piece of pizza into his hands.
"I can handle that." Shermie said. "And hey, Stan's going to be okay, and so are you."
"How do you know?" Ford asked, just like he would when they were small children. Shermie chuckled, having the same response.
"Because I'm your big brother." Shermie said. "It's my job to know." Ford didn't laugh, but he gave a small smile. It was a step in the right direction. Shermie picked up the scout book and handed it to his brother. "Here. See if there's anything in there that can help." There was a lot of information in that book. Ford was great at digging through things like that. Maybe if he felt like he was being useful, he'd be more willing to take it easy.
While Ford rested, Shermie knelt in front of the duffel bag and dug through it, pulling out antibiotics, burn cream, bandages, and pain relievers. It was something to start with.
It was still early midafternoon, but Shermie could already tell that they would have a long night ahead of them.