#ford so badly wishes he could stop having any kind of feelings about bill anymore. especially the lingering remains of fond feelings

[detectivejigsawpines]

ORN-Part 12 (Lex talionis)

Ford was an absolute heel.

Actually he deserved a far worse description, but until he could think of one that was harsh enough he was going with “heel.”

At first, all he felt was a kind of numbness in his chest, and all he could do was stand there, staring at his twin’s back. But slowly the full impact of Stan’s words sank in-you didn’t.  Say.  Anything; I’m pretty sure if I dropped dead nobody would care; It hurts that all it took was one dumb mistake for you ta throw me away-and then the pain came, both vicious and visceral, sending him stumbling back against the cave wall, and from there sliding his back down until he was sitting on the floor.

Ford’s vision was suddenly very blurry, and there had to be a leak in here or something because there was water on his face, except it was a lot warmer than he’d expect cave water to be, and he knew what was really going on but he didn’t want to admit it since their father had drilled it into him so many times that Men.  Didn’t.  Cry.

Ford closed his eyes, and bit down on his hand, trying to calm himself or at least keep it quiet; he didn’t deserve comfort, even in the unlikely event that Stan would be willing to give it, so he didn’t want his brother to feel any kind of obligation to do so.

Despite his best efforts, though, it was ten minutes before he opened his eyes again.  To his relief, Stan hadn’t left; he was still sitting with his back to him, visibly shivering.  Ford rubbed his face on his sleeve, and then cleaned his glasses of the “cave water.”  His head throbbed, a sign that he’d gotten dehydrated during the last ten minutes of just sitting here and letting “cave water” drip on his face and it was giving him a headache; Ford dismissed it as immaterial in comparison to figuring out what he should do now.

Stan’s dumb mistake that had bruised Ford’s ego seemed so minor now compared to the damage he’d inflicted in return.  His brother didn’t even seem to see himself as a person anymore; he’d accused Ford of “throwing him away,” like he was a broken toy or something.

He remembered what Stan’s reason was for coming here in the first place: someone had told him Ford would destroy the world if he didn’t.  He didn’t think he could come for any other reason, so as a result he’d spent five years living on the streets.

And it was all Ford’s fault.

Ford swallowed, hard, and felt his eyes fill up again.  How could he possibly fix all of that?

He looked down at the teeth still clenched in his hand, which he wished now he’d never bothered to pack.

And he came to a decision.

****

“Stanley?”

His brother didn’t acknowledge his voice.

Ford cleared his throat and stood, grabbing the lantern and heading towards him.  He stopped three feet away, and spoke again.

“Stanley...I’ve been a terrible excuse for a brother.”

Still no reaction.

“Please look at me, Stanley.”

Stan’s shoulders tightened, but Ford waited.  After a minute, Stan’s head finally turned, and the upper part of his body twisted around until he was more or less looking at Ford.  Who held up the lantern, and opened his mouth so he could see the gold sparkling inside.

Stan’s eyebrows, which seemed to have acquired a unique ability to defy gravity as he’d gotten older, rose up into his bangs.  He blinked, and then asked, “...Did you wash those before putting them in your mouth?”

“No, I just wiped them off on my shirt.”  Ford winced at his own words; he’d forgotten what it was like to wear the truth teeth.

“Ugh,” Stan grimaced, “y’know, it’s been awhile since I last brushed.”

“I’ve been trying very hard not to think about that ever since I put them in, and now that you brought it up it’s the primary thought running around in my head, so thanks a lot.”

The smirk he received was marginally better than the flat, challenging stare he’d been on the receiving end of...but it didn’t last.  At least Stan turned around all the way, though.

“It seemed fitting to make my punishment fit my crime,” Ford said, setting the lantern down.  “Specifically my crime of forcing you to wear these; though if you wanted to take my home away and abandon me to an impossible lifestyle I wouldn’t blame you.”

Stan frowned, but it was Ford’s turn to keep speaking.

“I was so wrapped up in my excitement over the brochure on West Coast Tech that I barely paid attention to what our principal said about you.  And even what I did hear, I told myself was ridiculous-because you wouldn’t be stuck in Jersey forever, you’d come up with some clever scheme that would make you a ton of money and before anyone could blink you’d be gone on some kind of crazy adventure.”  He closed his eyes.  “It didn’t occur to me that-you wouldn’t see it that way.  I should have thought about the fact that you would be listening in, and how words can hurt you just as easily as they can hurt me.”

Without considering it, Ford began pacing back and forth in front of his “audience,” hands clenched behind his back.

“And I was so angry when you just blew off my feelings about my project and tried to get us back to the boat like none of it was a big deal, but...you were just a kid, you shouldn’t have been thrown out like that, and I knew it.  Just a kid who’d made a stupid mistake.”

Ford squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to calm himself before continuing.

“I...I know this sounds bad, but I liked the idea of going away to college because it gave me a chance to just be myself.  It wasn’t that I didn’t care about you or wanted you out of my life, or that I didn’t like the idea of sailing away from everything-I was just tired of the way people always grouped us together, and the only way they seemed to see us as individuals was if they were making fun of my hands or being jealous of my intelligence, or if you were causing some kind of trouble.  And I wanted a chance to show the world what I could do on my own-” he swallowed- “but I hadn’t meant to hurt you in the process.  I never intended to do that when I talked to you on the swings that evening.  And it never did, but it should have, occurred to me that if you were hurt badly enough you might start to-to think your life didn’t matter anymore.”

Stan stared at him, expression unreadable.

Ford started pacing again.

“I know you’re probably right about Bill, I just don’t want to admit it because everything he promised is exactly what I want, and if I’m wrong about him then what does that say about me, that I can be so easily influenced by someone else’s flattery?”

His shoulders hunched in shame.  “Nothing good, that’s what.”

“Ford…” Stan began, but Ford cut him off.

“I’m sorry, Stanley.  I’m so, so sorry for holding onto a stupid grudge for so long, especially because in the long run the only person who’s suffered because I didn’t get into West Coast Tech is you.  I’m sorry it’s taken all this-” he gestured around the cave- “to get that through my thick skull.”

Stan shrugged.  “I deserve-” “Stop!” Ford snapped, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him, “Stop saying you deserve to be hurt, you don’t!  I almost want to punch you for that, except I realize as I’m saying this that hurting you for saying you deserve to be hurt is a little counterproductive.”

Stan managed a laugh; so did Ford.  After a second he released his brother, and took a step back, scrubbing a hand over his face again.

“You deserve better than this.  Better than me.”

“Then who’s that leave me with?  Shermie?  He’s not nearly as fun ta get in trouble with.”

“But he never wanted any of this to happen to you.  And I did,” Ford admitted, shame rising again.

Stan stared down at the lantern with a dejected frown.

“...I’m a monster,” Ford whispered.

****

“No you’re not-” Stan objected, looking up.

“I can say it while wearing these teeth, so that makes it true.”

“But I also said that I deserve everything that happened to me cuz of my mistakes while wearin’ them.  Ya can’t have it both ways, Sixer.  Either we are what we say we are or we aren’t.”

After a moment Ford sighed, and nodded.  “I think part of what the teeth perceive as ‘truth’ is based on the perspective of the individual wearer.  Which reminds me, you hardly have a right to be criticizing my fashion sense, mullet head.”

Stan looked at a few strands of his hair self-consciously, managing another brittle smile.  Then he said at last, “You can probably take those out now.”

Ford pulled out the truth teeth, wiping them on his shirt again.  He cleared his throat.  “We should figure out what we’re going to do about Bill.”

Even if things didn’t exactly feel resolved between them, Bill had said he was only giving them “a few minutes” to make a decision, and they had taken a lot more time than that; this needed to be dealt with.  He hoped that the so-called muse had just given up and left, but something was telling him it wasn’t going to be that simple…

********

Knowing Bill, probably not.

But at least they’ve cleared some of the air between them, right?

[badonkodank]

A Simple Word So Heavy

ao3

Chapter Six: I Continue to Face Them

A/N: Okay, this is the last chapter in this little adventure. Thanks to everyone who followed along and encouraged me, it really means a lot! You guys keep me going. ;) OH! The some of you might have noticed (or you may have not) that each chapter is a line from the song "I Have Made Mistakes by the Oh Hellos"- give it a listen if you want more feels!

When they say it then, they're content and know it's time to stop keeping count. There will be so many more instances in which it's said in the future, so there's no need to cling to the moments. They both know the other feels the same way.

Weirdmageddon had come and gone, and with it, had left the anger, the resentment, the petty grudges. All of it seemed to have been sucked into the rift along with the horrors that had never belonged in their world. And as if making up for him missing out on the the twisted, perplexing events of Weirdmageddon, Ford's emotional state had been thrown through the wringer and spit back out within the space of a few hours.

He'd dreamed of the moment Bill Cipher was vanquished so many times in his life, imagined the relief that would wash over him as he and millions across the multiverse rejoiced, for the triangle's reign of terror had ended. After his meeting with Jheselbraum, it had become a cemented into his mind that not only would it come to pass, but it would be him to do it.

Never once had he considered an alternative to the prophecy. Never had he wondered if Cipher's defeat would come by someone else. Never had he considered that the circumstances resulting in the defeat of the demon would be devastating.

Because it hasn't been he to save the universe, but Stanley.

Stanley had saved everyone.

And he wasn't able to remember.

No longer had there been a Stanley around to remember, just an empty shell, blinking slowly as if dazed, the look on his face not unlike that of a child discovering the world for the first time.

Ford hadn't been able to completely identify the feeling tightening his chest, but he hadn't bothered to truly make an effort. He knew enough to be aware that the his inability to breath had nothing to do with a physical problem. He wanted to be numb, to push everything he felt into a box for later review, but the plethora of emotions rushing through him wouldn't allow him to do even that. Instead he was left with an ache in his bones that resulted from far more than just residual soreness of the battle, which had ended minutes ago. He wanted to ignore that, too, just like he wanted to ignore pressure behind his eyes as he knelt down and bit back the urge to scream at the man in his arms to just hug him back already!

He didn't allow himself to break down just then. As he stepped away from the man on the ground, he forced himself to get pulled together. He knew he had to keep a hold of himself if he ever planned to get through the rest of the day. And he had to get through the day, if not for any other reason than the fact that he needed to be there for the kids. Dipper and Mabel, who were so broken up over the events that they remained huddled together, staring at him with their grief on display for all to see. It broke Ford's heart even more.

Yet he knew he couldn't allow them to become swallowed by their pain either; if they did, they might never recover- especially Mabel. She and Stanley had had such a special bond, that he had known after seeing them interact for only a few minutes. If she was allowed to wallow in her sadness, she could be hard pressed to ever come back to them.

Perhaps the same thoughts had gone through her twin's mind, because Dipper grabbed his sister's hand and dragged her to her feet to envelope her in a tight hug that seemed to calm her. Ford hated the way his heart clenched painfully at the sight, less for the reason that it was gut wrenching to see the two hurting so badly, and more because he wished more than anything that he had his sibling to help him get through this.

He cast his attention back to Stanley and saw he'd gotten to his feet and looked around with eyes still so curiously wide. He hadn't bothered to right the fez, which still sat crooked atop his head, and Ford swallowed the lump in his throat. It wasn't right. Nothing about it was.

Stanley was a hero, and he didn't even look like himself.

Ford wanted to grab the man by his shoulders and shake him, scream at him to cut it out and complain that he still hadn't gotten a thank you, that the sweater he wore wasn't comfortable when compared to the crisp dress shirt he was used to. He knew it would do nothing, because there was no Stanley in there to remember. He of all people knew how well the memory gun worked, and how useless it was to try and bring lost memories back. Still, Ford couldn't stand seeing his brother not looking like his brother.

Soos helped him assist Stan in changing back into his suit, and the entire time Ford felt like he should've said something to the handyman, something to comfort him. He'd seen how much the man cared for his brother, and he hadn't missed the affectionate looks Stanley had shot him when he thought nobody was looking. The two clearly had some form of bond between them that went beyond just a boss and employee, and Ford wanted to say something to him, though he couldn't think of what.

After that, Ford handed Stanley off to the kids. They needed him, even if it wasn't him. He could see it in their eyes, their body language, that they still didn't understand, and Ford was reminded of just how young they were. It was easy to forget that they were only children on the cusp of teenhood. He watched as the children and Soos led the man who was and yet wasn't theirs with varying expressions of worry and sadness. They would refuse to believe Stanley was gone until they'd exhausted all their options, Ford knew, because that was who they were. They were the kids who had endured the horrors of Weirdmageddon and come out possibly stronger because of it; the kids who, instead of running away from the strangeness of Gravity Falls, tried to understand and help it. They were amazing kids.

He wished they wouldn't try. He already struggled with figuring out how to deal with the overwhelming guilt of taking away their uncle, and the sorrow of losing his brother, he had no idea how he would be able to handle the grief stricken children when they finally came to terms with the fact that their uncle's mind was gone, and with it, him.

When Mabel brought out the scrapbook, Ford almost left the room. He didn't think he'd be able to bear to watch, knowing how devastated she would be once she allowed herself to give up when she realized Stanley wasn't going to remember anything. He'd almost allowed his own selfishness to pull him away from the kids instead of help them, even when he knew it was a lost cause- he could see that much in the confusion on his twin's face as Mabel went on about the macaroni interpretations of her emotions.

Yet he could also see that, while he couldn't remember, he wanted to. Oh, if Mabel and Dipper's desperate attempts to get his memory jogged was heartbreaking, then Stanley's expression of genuine bewilderment as he squinted, trying to remember something he wasn't even aware he should remember, was just devastating.

But then Waddles, that swine that Ford had been highly irritated to have had roaming the halls of his house when he'd first been introduced by Mabel, tipped the balance and it was Ford's turn to be confused. It was the best kind of confusion, certainly, because soon as Stanley had said that pig's name, Ford felt his heart slam hard against his ribcage and he was quick to join Dipper, Mabel and Soos, crowding the man that wasn't yet his brother, hoping beyond hope that maybe... just maybe he would be.

He had no idea how it was possible for Stanley's memory to be returning, but he refused to ponder it's possibilities until he was sure the moment hadn't been a fluke. Yes, he would hope for the best, but he wouldn't allow himself to get caught up in the excitement. Not like Dipper and Mabel had.

And it had all gotten simultaneously better and worse after that. Stanley had started to remember: The Shack, the kids…

Pretty much everything except Ford.

That much had been evident in the first hour they'd all talked. Ford hadn't been able to stop smiling as his brother remembered, but as Stanley had interacted with the three younger people of the group, Ford had noticed he kept shooting glances his way. Each time his brows had furrowed and after the fourth or fifth time Ford understood why, and the realization that his brother still couldn't figure out who he was had slammed into him like Xanthar had way back when.

Ford had to swallow several times to force the lump of dread in his throat back down where it belonged. He'd known, logically, that it made sense for Stanley to remember Dipper and Mabel when they were, after all, the ones in his most recent memory. But when he began recalling first hiring Soos, and being there for the twins' birth -memories which were decidedly not recent- Ford began to worry.

No, not worry- that wasn't the right word. Worry was when someone tripped and you thought they might be hurt. Worry was when you couldn't remember whether or not you'd left the stove on. It was empty wallets and crumbling dimensions and a crying child. What Ford felt then, was dread. It was the same feeling he got when Bill showed up in one of his dreams, and when he found himself somewhere with bounty hunters on his trail, and most recently, when Bill had gone after the kids. It was cold and stiff and no matter what you did, it lingered, always in the back of your mind, always whispering "what if's" in your ear.

And for Ford, it wouldn't stop one traitorous "what if" in particular:

What if he doesn't ever remember you?

Ford had done his best to ignore that. That voice that shouldn't have been there anymore, still preying on his deepest fears despite no longer existing. It would be fine. Stanley would remember him. He knew he would. He just hadn't yet because the right memories hadn't been brought up.

Stanley would remember eventually. He'd have to be patient, Ford knew, and he had been… for quite awhile, actually. He'd known how important it was that he let Dipper and Mabel re-bond with Stan, so he hadn't interrupted. In fact, he'd been enjoying listening to all the stories they told about their summer adventures, recounted all the times his brother had punched a supernatural creature in the face. However, evening had come and the sun began to set, casting the room into softer light and his patience out the door. It had gotten to be too much, the waiting, the wondering, the watching Stanley remember everyone but him.

Mabe had mentioned being hungry a bit earlier, but hadn't gotten up to remedy that, and Ford decided it was as good a chance as any to remove them from his brother's side for a few minutes. It wasn't that he didn't wanted the kids around when Stanley remembered him, but it also… was. There'd been things in his and his brother's past that were meant to be private- in fact, pretty much the whole of their past had been that way; only meant for them. He loved them, but when it came to Stanley remembering him, he didn't want them around.

Ford glanced over at Soos, clearing his throat softly to get his attention. Soos stood up from where he'd been knelt next to Stan and smiled at him. Ford tried to return the sentiment but failed when he replied immediately to the unasked question.

"Do you think you could take the kids to get something to eat?"

Soos had met the his gaze steadily a moment, silent as he considered the request and Ford nearly sagged with relief when the handyman nodded a second later. Ford had had to hold in a thank you when he smiled, asking the kids if they wanted to head out and eat.

Mabel seemed about to protest, clearly not wanting to be parted from Stanley, but Dipper stopped her by grabbing her hand and giving it a light squeeze. He was much less subtle in his movements when he motioned over his shoulder and Ford waved awkwardly when Mabel whipped her head in his direction, her eyes growing wide as she realized what Soos and her brother were getting at.

She was quick to get up after that, dragging Dipper with her and asking Stanley if he'd be hungry for anything. Of course he said no and told them to go have fun, which had been the end of that, and Ford once again found himself impressed by how perceptive his niblings were. He was also thankful that they'd been so willing to give up time with their favored uncle in order to give him a moment alone. He made a mental note to give them hugs specifically for that later.

It hadn't been easy after that. The two of them stood awkwardly, unsure of where to start or what to do with themselves. Ford did his best to remain relaxed, to act as if everything was fine and he hadn't gone with Mabel and Dipper solely because he hadn't been hungry either. It was difficult to manage when he wanted nothing more than to pace in an attempt to calm his nerves.

After some silence, Stanley sat back down in his chair, petting Waddles' head when the pig snuffled at him. When he looked at him again, recognition continued to elude his gaze, and Ford sighed heavily while leaning against the TV. He had no clue where to start and was one of the most frustrating things.

It didn't help that the dread that hadn't ceased eating at him began making him wonder whether or not he deserved the confusion in his brother's eyes. After all, he'd been the one to erase his memories in the first place, so maybe it was been fair that he hadn't been remembered. Still, the thought of possibly being forever removed from Stanley's memory made Ford want to curl in on himself and disappear.

Of course, being full of surprises, Stanley crossed his arms and fixed him with a hard stare before breaking the silence.

"Alright, so why are you important?"

"What?" Ford blinked, surprised by the familiar blunt manner in which the question was delivered.

"Look, I kinda got the gist of how this remembering thing works. If your important, I've got ya somewhere in here," he tapped the side of his head, "and ya keep looking at me like I should've figured it out a long time ago. So help me out here."

"Oh." Ford thought he'd been doing a good job of hiding his distress, but apparently it would seem he'd failed miserably if someone with no knowledge of his tells could figure him out. Still, he had no idea of how he was supposed to tell Stanley. He was stuck between being blunt, taking the route of, "well we shared a womb for nine months, so yeah I'd say I'm pretty important", and the "I don't know if I'm important to you, but you're my brother, so you're at the very least, important to me", approach.

He had the perfect opportunity to have Stan remember him without disturbance, and he couldn't figure out how he was supposed to do it. So, of course his first response was to panic and clamp down. "I, uh, it doesn't… it doesn't matter."

The look Stanley gave him made Ford think of their mother when one of them had tried lying to her and she'd struggled with deciding whether she wanted to smack them or laugh at them. It had been ages since he'd seen anywhere wear the expression, and seeing it on his brother made him both suddenly nostalgic and extremely wary.

"Oh no ya don't," he argued, getting up from his seat and pointing angrily at him. "Just cuz ya don't wanna put the effort into helping me don't mean ya get to say it's nothing!"

"It's not that I don't want to put in the effort," Ford protested, "it's that I don't know where to start."

"Oh, gee, I have no idea what that's like." The bitter snap made Ford pause and curse himself. He'd been tactless with his words there. Of course Stan would be sensitive about not remembering things; Ford could only imagine how frustrating it must have been for him, to know he knew something, and yet not know a thing at all.

Still, he shook his head, deny his brother answers. He didn't want to confuse Stanley more by trying to give him their life's story. After all, that's where the kids and Soos had started with him: Where they'd first met him in their memories. How was he supposed to find a good place to begin? And dammit why hadn't he thought about all of this before he'd sent the kids away?

Of course, the motion's true meaning was lost on Stanley, so he tightened his hands into fists and glared at him. "Knock it off! Just because I don't remember doesn't mean I'm an idiot, Ford, so just tell me!"

It took a moment longer than it should have for him to process the words, but when he did, Ford stood shocked, not daring to move, or even breathe as he watched Stanley. The way his expression went suddenly from irritated to slack and wide-eyed nearly broken Ford, he himself daring to believe then that he'd heard correctly. However, just as soon as the slack expression had come, it disappeared once more, replace by a downturned mouth and scrunched brows.

Ford held his breath completely, watching as Stan's mouth began moving ever-so-slightly mouthing his name, until, after several seconds of tense silence, the confusion on his face disappeared.

When he finally looked up at him again, Ford didn't miss the tears threatening to spill over in his eyes. And when Stanley smiled tentatively as cleared his throat, Ford resisted the urge to wring his hands together. For his part, Stan seemed unsure of what to say, if the way he continually opened his mouth only to close it immediately after was any indicator.

"So, um," he started slowly, "doesn't this mean thanks are in order again?"

Ford couldn't have stopped the the sob from tearing out of his throat if he'd wanted to as he all but threw himself at his brother, burying his face into Stanley's shoulder, the small, "Whoa!" he got in response making his chuckle thickly.

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely into his twin's jacket. He whispered it over and over until it seemed to have lost its meaning and it was hard to believe he'd ever had a hard time saying the words in the first place.

He couldn't bring himself to loosen the white knuckled death grip he had on his brother, even when he heard the kids return. Stanley didn't try to pry him off either, though -in fact he held him just as tight- and that made Ford's tears flow harder.

Forty years. Forty years Stanley had been waiting for this. When he'd hugged him in that clearing, the first time he'd dared embrace his sibling since returning home, and had been met with nothing but limp confusion, Ford had been so sure that wish of his brother's would never be fulfilled.

He'd been so sure that his mind would be forever lost, and he'd felt all the more devastated with the knowledge. Because despite every chance he'd been given to hug his brother before and during Weirdmageddon, he hadn't. That left the embrace hurting him more than the torture Bill wrought for the sole reason that… it was the first hug he'd given his brother in forty years and Stanley hadn't even known who he was, or how important the moment had been. Hell, he hadn't even returned the gesture. And Ford had thought that would be it.

Now, knowing it wasn't, that he could hug Stanley and that he knew who he was and how much it meant, it was enough to overwhelm Ford. He didn't even think he would've step away from Stanley if he could right then, afraid he'd collapse if he did.

In the space of only a few hours, he'd been abused and terrified, he'd watched his some of his family nearly be destroyed by the demon he'd invited into the world, and then he'd witnessed his twin taking the fall for his own mistakes. He'd proceeded to destroy said twin's mind, and then he'd been crushed by the guilt of doing so. He'd suffered in a prison of his own mind, even for a short time, worrying about the kids, dreading what would become of his brother's memories of him, and what would become of his brother in general. Then, through a simple argument that particular pain and fear disappeared

All of that, in the space of a few hours. He didn't know how to process any of it other than to cling to his brother for dear life and comfort himself with the reminder that Stanley had called him Ford. Stanley remembered. Stanley was back, and he was okay. And it was fascinating, how arguments seemed to be what surrounded all the pivotal moments in their lives. In a convoluted sort of way, how Stan remembered him made perfect sense.

How he was remembering continued to remain a mystery to him, but Ford still wasn't interested in figuring it out just yet. For the time being, it didn't matter. Stanley was okay, and he was back, and that was all that mattered. And Stanley was there and hugging him back, and he didn't hate him.

And then it struck Ford, with that thought, that Stanley didn't remember everything. It made him aware his sibling probably didn't even know he should have reason to be hating him, which left Ford's relief slowly melting into apprehension, as he realized the next step in getting all of Stanley's memories back would be the same as everyone else's.

Just like Mabel and Dipper had begun going over the parts of their lives with their uncle in them, he'd have to do the same until his brother was able to piece things together himself. He'd have to remind him of all the fights, all the hurt and heartbreak… and the reason he'd lost his memories to begin with. He didn't want to. Not yet, anyway. He wouldn't be selfish and never tell Stanley, but it could wait, if only for the night. Just a little while longer.

Ford started when he was pulling from his thoughts by two pairs of arms wrapping around his and Stanley's waists, squeezing tightly. Ah, right, the kids. Ford sniffled, quietly as he could manage, and ruffled Dipper's hair before releasing Stanley in order to do the same to Mabel. He didn't miss the way his brother scrubbed roughly at his eyes when they broke apart, and Ford sent him a shaky smile, which was returned without hesitation.

Dipper and Mabel took the opportunity their distance provided and tackled Stanley back onto the sofa chair. Ford chuckled softly and joined them, perching on the skull-table and doing his best to ignore the way both kids looked between him and his brother slowly with knowing expressions. The smiles that broke out on either of their faces had Ford shaking his head and Stanley grunting and changing the subject before they had the chance to ask any questions.

"So, where'd Soos go?"

"Oh, he said he was going to help Wendy 'clean up some of the chaos'," Dipper said, shrugging.

"He'll be back later," Mabel finished, tucking herself into Stanley's side and releasing a content little sigh.

They all remained like that for some time, until the sun had set and Mabel had dozed off, drooling a bit onto Stanley's arm. Dipper was debating whether or not to wake her up and get her to bed, and Stan, of course, was being no help in deciding. Watching the three of them interact, it made Ford smile fondly. They may have had a long way to go in helping Stanley remember everything, but if every day went as well as today, Ford had high hopes for the future.

When Stanley came back into the living room carrying a fresh bowl of popcorn with Mabel at his side telling him about the progression of TV quality, and one of his favorite shows, "Ducktective", the last thing he'd expected to find was his brother with a big device in his arms, Dipper trailing behind carrying a circular case. He had no idea what this would be about -but then, that was normal now, wasn't it?- but it looked nerdy, and he frowned.

"Aw, c'mon, I'm not even back into the game a week and you're gonna bore me?"

Ford rolled his eyes at him as he set the device, which looked a whole lot like a projector, if he remembered correctly, onto the skull beside the chair. Dipper carefully set the box onto the floor beside it and then stood off to the side, watching them. Mabel went over to her brother's side, to no doubt ask what was going on. Stan wanted to know too, since Ford seemed pretty serious about whatever he was doing as he set up some more things that confirmed for him that what his brother had was, in fact, a projector. Good, he enjoyed getting things right.

Though, what he planned on showing them, Stan had no clue. He had no plans to be quiet about his curiosity, though. "Hey- ho, what's all this for?"

"I found these upstairs," Ford explained, "It's from when we were kids. I thought you might like to see them."

"Oh." Stan blinked in surprise. He still couldn't remember everything about their history together, but for the past two nights Ford had explained as much as he could think to, telling him why he'd lost his memories and apologizing until he wasn't doing much more than stuttering over the same remorse filled words repeatedly.

He'd been doing really good with remembering things, that was what everyone had assured him of when he'd gotten frustrated, but the sharper details of his childhood with Ford were still a bit of a blur to him. He'd tried and tried to clear them on his own, but the moments seemed determined to remain hidden from him. So if Ford seriously had film, he definitely wanted to watch.

He refused to get emotional over the fact that his brother had kept such delicate, precious things all these years, though. He hadn't even known they'd existed, and from what he could recall, he'd been the one living in the Shack the longest. Or maybe he had known? Nah, if he had, the memory would've come back once he saw the projector.

From what he'd figured out on his own and what Ford had explained to him, his remembrance seemed to be triggered by familiar faces and images that were important to him. He was pretty sure if he was touched by the sentiment of the device now, it would qualify as "important" and have triggered any memories if he'd had them. Which left him wondering just what would be on the film reel. He also wondered how close his brother was to being done setting up, because he wanted to see them sooner rather than later.

They'd gotten a lot of his memory back during the day today alone, having gone all over town, reminding him of all his favorite places, introducing him to some people as they went. They'd gotten dinner at Greasy's Diner and Mabel had, after getting onto the topic of his cooking skills, helped him to remember his special brand of "Stan-cakes". With all of that finished, they were coming up on the end of the day and Stan was looking forward to it, because even if it meant staying up until he was beyond exhausted, it also meant going over his past with his brother, specifically.

He enjoyed the time spent together with Ford. The portal and Weirdmageddon had been some of the first memories involving him to come back, and so while at times it was distressing and confusing, putting the puzzle back together in order, he treasured every moment he had with his sibling. He knew just how important their time together was, and he was more than happy to occupy his brother's time.

Part of him had a hard time believing Ford cared enough to want him to remember everything so quickly, because according to more recent memories, Ford supposedly only cared about himself, but Stan did his best to shut that part of his brain up. It was true, he'd thought those things about his sibling at some point or another, but he didn't now. And maybe that was only because he didn't have all his memories of Ford. Either way, until he had all his memories back and could make an educated decision on how he felt, he'd continue to tell himself to be quiet. Ford cared about him, and whether or not Stan initially thought he did wasn't important.

Once he looked to have everything set up, Ford smiled widely and Stan snickered under his breath. He was acting like a kid on the first night of Hanukkah, practically bouncing from foot to foot, wringing his hands and motioning for him to sit, which made Stan all the more eager to see what was on the film.

"Well, we're set up, so… whenever you're ready…"

"Ha, yeah, alright." Stan punched his brother's shoulder as he took a seat.

Ford nodded, probably more to himself than anyone, and stood there a moment, staring at the wall before groaning softly and turning back to the projector. Stan bit his tongue to keep from laughing. It was funny when Ford was so focused on doing one thing that he forgot the main part. "One moment." He blushed and went to getting the reel into the projector.

Stan waited patiently, not saying a word, just listening to the rambling he always got from his brother; Ford tended to talk when he was nervous and doing work with his hands. Stan was pretty sure it had something to do with the fact that he was used to explaining what he did to everyone around him, since his mind moved twice as fast as theirs.

"I don't remember what's on this, precisely, but I know they're nice- all of them. I used to watch them before McGucket moved in to work on the Portal. I suppose you never heard about that though, so nevermind. Point being, I think you'll enjoy these. I just have to put this here and..."

Stan smirked in amusement at Ford when the man grinned as the reel clicked into place. He opened his mouth to cut his brother off before he could get going again, but stopped when he saw Dipper grab Mabel's hand, the two of them moving to retreat from the room.

"Oi, where you headed?"

The children startled and Dipped scratched the back of his neck while Mabel saved him by answering. "We're just gonna leave you guys alone now. Personal bizz an' all that. Yeahhh."

Before he could say anything in response to that, Mabel winked and took a turn dragging her sibling out of the room, Dipper uttering a short, "G'night." before disappearing from sight. Stan could hear them clambering up the stairs, whispering to each other softly enough that he couldn't catch what was being said. He only shook his head fondly at their antics. Those two really were the lights of his life most days, and it was times like these that that was brought to his attention.

He didn't know how he'd ever gone through life without them around, but he couldn't imagine never having met them now. He did know that once they went home, life would get pretty boring again. A final sharp click made Stan flinch and check on Ford, who'd completed hooking the film up, and he hummed under his breath. Actually, with him around, it might not be too boring at all...

It would take a period of adjustment to get used to someone other than the twins being around the Shack twenty-four-seven, but Stan would be more than happy to go through that period of time it if it meant Ford was the one whose company he would be getting used to. Stan was kind of thankful for these nightly memory joggings because those alone had allowed them to get used to each other faster than they might have and talk about things that had never been discussed in depth before then.

Stan wasn't exactly thrilled that he'd lost his entire life's story, even if it had been his idea to start with, but, shockingly enough to himself and probably everyone else, he was actually glad it had all worked out the way it had. Even if not remembering everything in one sitting grew progressively annoying, he and Ford had been able to just talk openly, about everything, and while he wasn't completely sure of where it was they stood exactly, he rested easy on the knowledge that Ford… probably wasn't going to kick him out of the Shack like he'd wanted to when he'd first been brought back.

Stan wasn't sure exactly what they'd do about their living arrangement, but if he'd taken anything from the way his brother had been treating him the past few days, it was that they would figure it out. He sure hoped that was what Ford was thinking anyway. He was a little afraid to ask. He'd do it later- probably after the kids left. Yeah. Probably… Maybe.

"Okay," Ford said, jarring Stan out of his thoughts, "Sorry about that. Just let me know when you're ready."

Stan couldn't help but laugh at his brother then. Ford was practically vibrating with… well, he wasn't sure if it was excitement or nerves, but either way he looked like Mabel after her tenth cup of Mabel Juice™ and it was pretty hilarious to see his brother's mannerisms parallel his bubbly great niece. Ford only watched him with a mixture of bewilderment and concern. "What?"

"Nothing," Stan chortled, getting a hold of himself once more and waving his brother's next question off, "No, I didn't remember anything new."

After a moment of scrutinizing him, Ford nodded and turned his attention back to the task at hand, satisfied with the answer. He flicked on the projector and settled into the collapsable chair beside the sofa, his designated spot for the routine. It took a few seconds for the reel to begin playing, but Stan kept his attention glued to the wall where the picture would be popping up. He had no idea what he was in store for, but was eager to see nonetheless, because if the moments had been worth filming and saving for so long, they had to be special, and there was no way he wanted to miss even half a second of that.

The two watched and talked for hours, chatting after each individual clip before continuing with the next captured moment. They kept to the cycle until the late hours of the night crept up on them and one or two clips were lift on the reel that they were too tired to watch.

Ford was the first to break, surprising both of them with a yawn big enough Stan briefly worried his jaw might've been dislocated. Of course, that had set off a chain event, causing him to yawn too and realize just how beat he was. Neither one of them made any move to get up, though, as that had become part of the routine too. They'd exhaust themselves reminiscing, and then they'd just go to sleep. It wasn't the best thing for their backs, but the two didn't much care. There was something comforting about being able to fall asleep right next to the other. Something familiar.

Stan's lip twitched into a smile when he pictured the bunkbeds littered with random toys and knick knacks from their youth. Yeah, those had been the days, when it had just been the two of them, full of their childlike spunk and irrational senses of optimism. They'd sure had some fun back in the day. The short clip of him chasing Ford around with a paintbrush on the beach came to mind and Stan smiled as he peaked an eye open to check on his brother. He'd already closed his eyes and leaned heavily against him, his hair tickling Stan's chin when he tilted his head down.

A fond and content noise made it out of his throat and Ford purred back in response. Stan closed his eyes and chuckled softly. That was one of the weirder noises he'd heard from his brother since he'd come out of the portal, but it was one he could at least get behind. After all, if that was one of the more subtle ways Ford expressed happiness, who was he to complain?

Stan contemplated taking his hand out of where it had settled in the popcorn bowl to ruffle his twin's hair like he'd have done when they were younger, but he didn't feel like mustering up the energy it would take to move. He was comfy and he didn't want to ruin that. Besides, his limbs felt heavy enough he wasn't sure he'd make it all the way up to where Ford's head was rested against his shoulder.

Instead, Stan settled for a soft mutter. He hadn't dared to say it since… had it been right after that DD and More D thing with Dipper? Yeah. He hadn't said it since then, too afraid he wouldn't get the response he wanted, or any response at all. This time, it came as easily as telling Wendy to get back to work, and Stan knew it would be well received.

"G'night, Ford."

He didn't look to see his brother's reaction- he didn't have to when he felt Ford's arm wrap loosely around his shoulders, giving him a tight squeeze. The affection in his brother's tone when he finally responded made Stan's smile solidify on his face to the point where he didn't think he'd be able to get it off.

For so long he'd been waiting to hear the words echoed back at him, and from the way Ford spoke, his own smile evident, it sounded like he had been too.

"Goodnight, Stanley."

But nothing is a waste, if you learn from it.