April 11th, 1988

It felt like forever before Stan finally rolled to a stop outside the Murder Hut (he should probably change the name to something a bit more family-friendly), with the clone still curled up in the backseat.

Okay, so he had a kid to take care of now. What do kids need?

He turned and stared at the boy still wrapped in his jacket. Clothes. Clothes would probably be good. And glasses, Ford had started wearing glasses around 6, Nicola would probably need them too. And what about books? This was a tiny version of his brother, odds are he was bound to be a bookworm.

So a shopping trip was in order. Stan could only hope the small collection of stores in town would contain everything they needed. In the meantime, he'd have to get creative with what they had.

"Can't be harder than taxidermy," he muttered as he reached into the backseat, gently shaking the boy by the shoulder. "Hey kid, we're here."

Nicola blearily blinked at him as he straightened in his seat. "Where's here?"

"Where you're gonna be living."

"With you?"

Stan nodded. "Yeah. Now get up, we've gotta find ya somethin' to wear til' we go shopping."

The clone obediently unbuckled and followed Stan inside.

Stan eyed the door to Ford's room. Nicola was just a younger version of Ford right? Therefore, Nicola would probably prefer Ford's clothing over Stan's. Surely, his twin wouldn't miss a single outfit.

Taking a deep breath, he ambled down the hallway and opened the door, immediately moving to the closet. "Anything in here you like kid?"

Nicola cautiously reached out to the nearest item, a turtleneck sweater, and ran his fingers along the sleeve. Slowly, a small smile spread across his face.

"This one's soft."

Stan pulled the sweater off the hanger and held it against the boy. It seemed absolutely enormous against the clone's tiny frame. Had he and Ford ever been so small?

"It'll work for a day if we roll up the sleeves." He decided. "Now try it on."

Nicola wasted no time in discarding the jacket and pulling on the sweater. It looked even bigger on the kid than it had off him. The boy didn't seem to care, wrapping his arms around himself and smiling contentedly.

"Are there more of these?" He asked.

As adorable as the sight was, Stan couldn't help groaning internally. Sweaters got expensive, especially the nice kinds that weren't itchy. If that's all the kid wanted to wear, it was going to cost more than Stan could afford to spare.

"I'll keep an eye out for sweaters while we're shopping okay? Now let's find you something resembling pants."

In the end, Stan had to surrender his sole pair of short shorts to get Nicola into something resembling a full outfit. The result made the kid look more like an extra from Oliver than a well-cared-for child, (yet another thing he'd have to explain to the curious townsfolk) but it still functioned as a decent covering.

Far more difficult was figuring out exactly how much Nicola knew. He spoke clearly and already knew quite a number of words, but didn't recognize items or understand their purpose, as Stan was discovering now.

"It's a fork, you're meant to eat off of it," he instructed patiently as the clone glared suspiciously at the forkful of scrambled eggs in front of his face.

"But the end looks sharp, how do I know it won't hurt me?"

Stan fought the urge to groan. He knows adjectives and self-preservation, but not utensils, of course. Because that would be too easy.

He grabbed the fork and shoved it in his own mouth. "There, see? Perfectly harmless."

The boy instantly brightened and began to imitate Stan's actions. There goes any hope of him having good table manners.

Stan leaned forward. "So, Nicola, you remember how we're gonna go shopping?"

Nicola nodded.

"I'm gonna need you to call me dad while we're out there, alright?"

"Why? Is that your name?"

"Cause it'll keep people from asking the wrong questions, that's why," Stan responded brusquely. He placed a firm hand on the kid's shoulder. "I don't want anyone to take you away." I already failed my brother, I can't fail you too. "So just trust me, okay kiddo?"

"Okay," Nicola replied softly.

Stan released the boy's shoulder. "Alright, we're leaving as soon as you finish your eggs."

Stan had never seen anyone eat so quickly.

Nicola was convinced the "main street", as Dad called it, was the greatest thing he'd ever seen in his life. There were so many things, so many people, so many new words he could learn!

Any attempt he made to run forward and explore was quickly halted by the large hand grasping his sweater, but Nicola didn't mind. Dad was safe, he'd keep the loud voices from getting him again. Besides, he had just as much to learn about Dad as he did anything else. Nicola had seen how similar the two of them looked when they'd stood in front of the mirror back at the place-where-they-lived, but nobody else they'd met looked like them. Was everyone supposed to look different? Was Dad supposed to look like him? And what was wrong with everyone's hands?

Dad's rough voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Let's start with glasses." The large hand guided Nicola through a door into a very white room filled with things.

"What are these?" Nicola asked as he pointed to the nearest thing.

Dad grunted. "They're glasses, you need them to see."

"I can see," Nicola pointed out. Did Dad think he couldn't?

"Probably not well." Dad walked to a different part of the white room and grabbed a squarish set of glasses. "These should be the right prescription, try 'em on."

Nicola took the glasses as he tried to puzzle out exactly how to try them on. Dad said they helped with seeing, so they probably went near his eyes. He slipped the wires on the side over his ears so the glass squares were in front of his eyes. The world was suddenly full of edges, little details that had been lost in the softness. He could see every little hair on Dad's chin!

Dad was smiling, but his eyes weren't matching his mouth. "Better?"

Nicola nodded, feeling the foreign weight of the glasses as he did so. "A lot better, you should try them!"

"Thanks kid, but I don't need glasses."

Nicola frowned. He hadn't thought he needed glasses, but he did. How would Dad know unless he tried? He held the glasses out and tried to mimic Dad's firm tone. "Try them."

Dad sighed and held the glasses, (which Nicola just now realized were too small for him), in front of his eyes. He blinked confusedly. "Wow, I am blind! Guess we're both getting glasses."

Nicola beamed and puffed out his chest. "Told you so!"

Stan left the eyecare place with stolen replacement pairs in his pocket, and a small six-fingered hand in his own. He tried to shake the melancholy fog that had fallen over him after Nicola had been proven correct about his eyesight. With the glasses and that cocky "I know I'm right" expression, the little clone had looked more like Ford at that moment than any before.

Is it just a matter of time before he finds me suffocating too?

A tug on his hand pulled him from his thoughts.

"Dad look!" Nicola said as he pointed at a shop window excitedly. "Sweaters!"

Stan peered in the shop window. Sure enough, one of the mannequins displayed was garbed in a purple sweater. (Who advertises sweaters in April?)

He turned back to the boy. "I'm guessing you want to go in here?"

Nicola nodded. "Yes."

Stan pulled them in the direction of the door. "Alright then."

The chime of a little bell above the door immediately drew the attention of the few occupants of the store. A teen at the register, a man looking at button-up shirts, and that one waitress chick who never sued him over the jacked-up eye. Well, time to lay on the act.

"Susan!" He greeted, waving at the waitress. "Fancy seein' you here! What are ya shoppin' for?"

She smiled, attempting to bat her working eye. "A new apron, maybe after I'm done you can stop by Greasy's, get a good look?"

Stan grinned right back. "I'd love to sugar-pot, but I promised my boy here we'd have some proper bonding time back home." He reached back to where Nicola had shrunk behind him and gave the boy a gentle shove forward. "Meet Nicola."

Susan walked forward, her wide eye fixed on the clone. "I had no idea you had a son."

Stan chuckled. "Up until recently, neither did I."

"How did that happen?" She asked as Stan watched the others try to hide the fact they were eavesdropping.

Perfect.

"It's all my fault," he started, his tone settling into the same one he used to scam tourists out of their cash. "I spent a night outta town, tryin' to have a little fun, and I met this lady. She seemed a little off, but she was pretty and I was lonely. Six years later, I get a call from another state sayin' my kid needed to be picked up or he'd go to a foster home. And that's not even the worst part."

Susan leaned forward, utterly transfixed by the narrative. "Then what is?"

He crouched down next to Nicola, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm gonna show 'em your arm, okay kiddo?"

Nicola nodded, though his eyes were questioning.

Stan pushed the rolled-up sweater sleeve past the boy's forearm, revealing the purple bruises left from where the wires had pulled out of his skin.

Susan gasped. "Did his mother do that?"

Stan nodded, picturing Daughtler and her pink lab coat. "She was a real piece of work. But he's with me now so that's what counts." He ruffled the kid's hair. "Ain't that right Nicola?"

Nicola smiled, grasping Stan's shirt. "Yep."

Susan cooed at the scene, and frankly, Stan couldn't blame her.

No wonder me and Ford got away with so much when we were little, we were freakin' adorable!

"Now," he stated as he rose from his crouch. "Let's get you some clothes that actually fit."

"Sweaters?" Nicola asked with an expression that made Stan think of an excitable puppy.

Stan glanced at the sweater from the window display and winced at the price. "We'll have to see how much the rest of your stuff costs first."

Susan stepped forward. "Oh, don't you worry about that Stan." She bent over to Nicola. "You pick a sweater and I'll buy it for you. Consider it a welcome to Gravity Falls!"

Once again, Stan found himself stunned by the townsfolk of Gravity Falls.

Either they're all really generous, or they're idiots.

Stan looked down at the clone. "Well, what are you waiting for? Tell Susan thank you and pick a swea-"

Nicola was at the window display before he could finish. "This one!" He exclaimed as he pointed at the violet sweater.

Susan laughed. "Such enthusiasm! The elementary teachers will sure have their hands full when he starts school."

Memories of fists and jeers and shattered glasses flashed in Stan's mind. Nicola seemed about six, and if Ford wasn't mad about the clone's very existence, he'd be furious if Stan failed to give him a proper education. So yeah, looked like school was next on the list of "Things to Somehow Figure Out".

Great. Stan mentally groaned.

This chapter was a weird one for me, mostly because Nicola can be a bit hard to write. I hope you enjoyed it!

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