#Aww bill liked ford’s body so much he decided to get his own :))))

[columboposting]

Okay there are a lot of hot twink human bill cipher designs roughly based on the premise that, if Bill were to choose a human form, he would choose an attractive one. But that premise begs the question… what does Bill find attractive?

Behold, my Human Bill design: PLAGIARISM!!!

[portalford]

Chasing Dreams ‘til We Reach Them

AO3

Mabel crosses her arms, decides against it, and puts her hands on her hips instead.  She wants to look scolding, not mad.  “Grunkle Ford, you haven’t been sleeping.”

Ford startles a little at her voice.  “What?”

“You haven’t been sleeping!  Dipper always gets bags under his eyes when he stays up too late, just like you.”  Mabel squints suspiciously.  “Do you chew on your shirt, too?”

“What?  No, I don’t chew on my shirt.”

“That’s good.  Sweaters are super soft, but they taste awful.”  She’s only tried it twice, maybe three times, but never again.

Ford’s just kind of looking at her, half-slumped over his journal, and Mabel stops trying to joke because this is just sad.

She walks over to him and clambers up into his lap.  He pushes his chair back to make room for her and she hugs him, mindful of his injuries.  She’s still got a few bumps and bruises from Weirdmageddon, too, but hers all have sparkly bandaids.  Ford’s just got boring white bandages, but he lets Mabel draw on them sometimes, so that’s good.

“Grunkle Ford, why don’t you sleep?”

Ford sighs.  She feels him rest his chin on her hair.  “I’ve never been very good at sleeping, Mabel.  Always too much to do, too much to see, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.  Dipper’s always up reading a nerd book.”

Ford’s chuckle ruffles her hair.  “I did that quite a bit at his age myself.  Stanley used to hide my books before bed.”

That’s a really good idea, actually.  Mabel usually just whisper-shouts until Dipper gives up and pays attention to her.  “Do you stay up late reading nerd books now?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

Mabel pulls away to look at him.  “What about other times?”

“Other times, I just don’t sleep.”

“Do you have nightmares?”

He won’t look her in the eyes.  “Occasionally.”

Mabel still hasn’t figured out how Stan’s twin brother can be so bad at lying.

Ford is smiling at her now, but it doesn’t make his eyes light up the way his real smiles do, so Mabel knows it’s fake.  “I’m fine, Mabel.  I’ve just got a lot of work to catch up on.  I’ve been away thirty years, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”  Mabel gives him another hug, willing every bit of her own happiness into her uncle’s body, before sliding off his lap.  “Have fun with your science stuff, Grunkle Ford!”

Ford smiles again, and it looks a little more real this time.  “I will.”

Mabel stops in the TV room to take a deep breath.

Plan A didn’t work.  That’s okay.  She’s got plans all the way through E by herself, and she’ll get Dipper and Soos for backup and invent a whole new alphabet if that’s what it takes to get Grunkle Ford to sleep.  It’s her life mission until it gets fixed.

Plan B: Grunkle Stan.

*****

“Grunkle Stan?”

Stan looks up from the gift shop counter and smiles at her.  “Hey, kiddo.  What’s up?”

“Not much.  How’s your brain doing?”

“It’s got all the useless information it had yesterday, so I’d say it's doin’ pretty good.”

Mabel laughs.  Stan always knows how to cheer her up.  She jumps up to sit on the counter, and starts kicking her legs.  “Actually, I did have a question.”

“No, you can’t set up the sprinkler system indoors.”

“That wasn’t my question, but I will ask about that later.”  Mabel kicks her heels against the counter a couple more times, listening to the hollow thump-thump.  “Grunkle Stan, why doesn’t Grunkle Ford sleep?”

Stan’s smile disappears.  “What?”

“Grunkle Ford doesn’t sleep.  Sometimes I come downstairs for a midnight snack, and he’s always in the kitchen working or I can hear him in the basement.  And he’s always got bags under his eyes, and not the usual old-man kind.”  Mabel shrugs.  “Just… not sleeping always makes me and Dipper super cranky and sad, and I don’t want Grunkle Ford to feel like that.  I want to help.”

Stan sighs and hoists himself up on the counter next to her.  “I know you do, sweetie.  You’re a good kid.”

“I asked him about it and he just talked about other stuff.”

Stan snorts.  “Yeah, he does that.”

“Well I don’t want him to!  I want him to sleep, because he’s old and needs to sleep and be happy.”  Mabel grabs Stan’s arm and looks urgently up at him.  “Why won’t he sleep?”

Stan tugs his arm away so he can wrap it around her.  “Right, how to put this.  Y’see, kid, it’s… you know how Dipper was, after that sock puppet thing?”

Mabel does.  Dipper kept having bad dreams and pacing around and clinging to Ford’s journal like it was the only thing holding him together.  It was one of the worst weeks of Mabel’s life, and she just had the apocalypse.  “Yeah.”

“Well that was, what, a couple hours of putting up with that demon?  You saw how bad it was for him?  Ford’s been doing that for thirty years.”

Mabel’s brain breaks for a second.  Thirty years of bad dreams and pacing around and hanging on to your weird nerd books just to keep it together?  She tries to imagine having nightmares and no sleep for her whole life, then twice that, and her brain breaks again.  She stops thinking about it and hangs on to Stan’s arm instead. “Grunkle Stan, that’s so sad.”

“Yeah.”  Stan sounds sad, and really tired.  “Ford’s just got a lot to deal with, you know?  Bill’s been after him for half his life.  It’s hard to stop running when you’ve been at it a long time.  Hard to believe you’re finally safe.”

Mabel looks up at him.  “Did you ever have to run from anyone?”

Stan shrugs.  “Once or twice.”

“So what did you do?  What made you feel safe again?”

Stan shrugs again.  “Just hangin’ out, mostly.  Having time to think about it and realize that it was really over.  Also changing my name and holing up in a tourist shack in the woods, but I don’t think Ford’s gonna want to do that.”

Mabel giggles.  “He already lives in a tourist shack in the woods.”

“Not his choice, I’ll tell ya.”  Stan ruffles her hair playfully.  “You wanna hear what really makes Ford happy?”

Mabel leans closer.  “A magic science thing?  Is it dangerous?”  She gasps.  “Will we have to go on a mission to find it?”

Stan gently bops her on the head.  “You can go on as many magic science missions as you want, so long as you don’t drag me into it, but no.  What really makes Ford happy is you and your brother.”

“Really?”

“Really.  You two knuckleheads mean a lot to him.”  He rubs the back of his neck.  “To both of us, honestly.”

“Aww, Grunkle Stan.”  Mabel twists around so she can hug him properly.  “I love you too.”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Stan’s tone is dismissive, but his arm tightens around her.  “I’m guessing you won’t listen to me if I tell you to just let Ford work it out on his own?”

“No way!  I’m gonna fix this.”

“That’s what I thought.  Just think of something that makes you feel good when you’re having a bad day, and as long as it’s not loud or glittery Ford will probably love it.  Or at least tolerate it for your sake.”

Mabel scowls and pokes Stan in the side.  “Grunkle Stan, I want it to make him happy so that he’ll sleep.”

Stan pokes her back.  “I just told you — if it’s something you’re doing for him, it’ll make him happy.  Just think safe and quiet.”

“Safe and quiet…”  Mabel jumps up so fast she falls off the counter.  She pops back up immediately.  “I’m okay!”  She hugs Stan around the legs.  “Thank you, Grunkle Stan!”

She’s already halfway out the door when Stan shouts “no karaoke!” after her.  She ignores it; Stan loves family karaoke.  Ford can join in next week, too, but first:

“Dipper!”  Mabel bursts into their room, almost knocking her brother over.  “Dipper, come on!  I need your help with something.”

*****

“So what is this about again?”

“We’re having a party!”

Ford doesn’t exactly pull back, but he definitely hesitates.  “A party?”

“Well,” Mabel amends, “it’s not really a party because it’s just me and Dipper, and maybe Stan when he gets back from his thing with Soos, but we might play truth or dare and other party games, so it’s a party!”

“Ah.”  Ford does pull back when he sees the living room.  “You turned the entire room into—”

“A pillow fort?  You bet!”

Mabel’s super proud of this idea, and it only took her and Dipper the entire afternoon.  They gathered up every pillow in the whole house, then every pillow in Soos’s house, then Dipper went to ask the Multibear and came back with a golf cart full of pillows.

“He’s got one for every head,”  Dipper had said, and that was that.

Mabel tugs at Ford’s hand.  “Come on!  Actually, wait.”  She points at his boots.  “No shoes allowed in pillow forts.  It’s the rule.”

“I see.”  Ford pulls his boots off and drops them near the doorframe.  “Is that better?”

“Much.”

Mabel had thought about all the things that make her feel better when she’s sad:  Dipper, Stan, Ford, Soos, Candy Grenda, Waddles, Sweatertown, ice cream, glitter, arts and crafts, disco parties, and about a hundred other things, but most of them probably weren’t things Ford would like.  Especially disco parties.  And that was fine, because disco parties were fun, but they kept you awake and energized, which was the opposite of what Mabel was going for here.

She’d landed on a pillow fort as the perfect thing.  You sleep with pillows and blankets, and you can play fun games and eat fun snacks and spend time with your family, and those are all good things.  She just isn't going to connect this in any way to their conversation this morning, because that’ll make Ford get all weird and unhappy and this is a Good Vibes Only zone.

Ford settles crosslegged under the big blanket tent Soos helped them rig up with eye hooks on the ceiling (Stan won't mind) and looks at her intently.  “So what do we do at this party?  Besides truth or dare.”

“Well, Dipper and I usually tell stories, or play video games, or braid each other’s hair.”  Suddenly excited, “Grunkle Ford, do you know how to braid hair?”

“Well, I’ve never tried to braid hair, but I know how to braid rugs.  Also, there’s a species on Jeevar 8 that braids its fur in different ways to keep it clean and show status, and I stayed with a family with three children who taught me—”

Mabel’s already flinging her headband across the room.  “Show me!”

Ford laughs.  “All right.”

It’s a very complicated braid, but Ford is gentle and only pulls once, and that’s really Mabel’s fault for getting excited and bouncing.

“Is it easier to braid hair with six fingers?” she asks.

Ford’s hands pause momentarily.  “I suppose I can hold more strands at a time,” he replies, twisting her hair up near the back of her neck, “but you could do this with five fingers.”

“Sweet, because I want you to teach me all the braids you know.  Including the rug ones.”  

“I can do that.”  There’s the slight scrape of a pin on her scalp.  “And… that’s done,” Ford announces, just as Dipper finally makes an appearance with the snacks.  

“Dipper!  Grunkle Ford space-braided my hair!”  Mabel twirls around to show it off.  

“That’s really cool, Mabel.”  Dipper sounds genuinely impressed, but that might just be because it’s a space braid.  Mabel runs to the bathroom to check herself out in the mirror, and that is definitely a space braid.  

“It’s beautiful, Grunkle Ford!”  Mabel yells when she runs back to the TV room.  “I love it!”

Ford looks up from one of the boxes Dipper brought in.  “I’m glad it meets your approval.  What’s this?”  

Mabel flops down next to the box.  “Pictionary!  It’s like an art guessing game.  You’d be great at it.”

Eight rounds later, Mabel is sort of forced to reconsider.

“Grunkle Ford, you’re so good at this you’re bad at it.”

Ford is comparing her drawing of ‘in the doghouse’ with his of ‘third wheeling.’  “Unfortunately, I think you’re right.”

“It is kind of funny to see the Author’s drawing style in Pictionary though,”  Dipper offers.

“That’s true.”  Mabel jumps up, scattering pencils and paper.  “Hey Grunkle Ford, if I pose, can you draw me but give me a really pretty dress?”

Ford looks confused, but he’s already reaching for a pencil.  “Why?”

“So I can hang it on my wall forever.”

Ford does, in fact, draw Mabel posing in a really pretty dress.  He also draws Dipper in an outfit that may or may not resemble his own portal attire, and Dipper and Mabel together as super-rad government agents.

Mabel holds this last drawing up triumphantly.  “With the power of imagination, we can be anything we want, and with the power of Grunkle Ford’s drawing, we can make other people believe it!

“Please don’t con other people using my art.”

“We’re gonna con other people using your art.”

“No, we’re not,” Dipper says hurriedly, snatching the paper away.

They play charades and a couple different card games and consider a game of Monopoly, but Dipper is already starting to nod off, so Mabel introduces Ford to origami instead.  The paper they were using for Pictionary isn’t really origami paper, but whatever.

Ford glances at a snoring Dipper over his origami Mothman.  “Should I take him to bed?”

“What?  No.  That’s missing the whole point of a pillow party.”

“Which is?”

“Passing out in a big pile.”

Ford folds out the wings on his Mothman.  “I don’t know if I’ll be very good at that part.”

“That’s okay.  Staying up all night is always an option.”

Ford gives her a Look.  “You do need to sleep at some point.”

Mabel bites her tongue on “so do you,” because that’ll make him suspicious, if he hasn’t figured it out already.  “I know.”  She holds out her origami pig to change the subject.  “Look, I made Waddles!”

Ford smiles.  “It looks just like him.”

An hour later, Mabel is curled up under a blanket against Ford’s side, listening to portal stories.

“So she really was a princess?”

“Yes, the last of her family and hereditary ruler of her planet.  It was right out of a fairytale.”  Ford shifts a little, adding another pillow to the pile he’s propped up on.  “It was a privilege to meet her.  She was very kind, and helped me immeasurably on my journey.”

“Sounds like you saw some really cool stuff.”  Mabel’s eyes are drooping, but she’s determined not to fall asleep.  Not until Ford does.

“I did.”  A pause.  “There was a lot that… wasn’t good, in the multiverse.  There was a lot that was good.  I had my fair share of both.”

“M’glad you’re back home now,”  Mabel mumbles.  Ford is warm and his sweater is soft and it’s really hard to think of things to say.  “Getting to meet you was one of th’ best parts of this summer."

There’s a long silence, then Mabel feels Ford’s hand run over her braided hair.  “I’ll go one better and say that meeting you and Dipper was one of the best parts of the last thirty years.”

“You win.”  Her eyes are shut now, but she hears Ford laugh softly.

“I think we both did.”

*****

Mabel wakes up slowly.  She’s warm and comfortable and last night was wonderful, and—

last night.

Ford.

Mabel is awake in an instant.  She messed up; she wasn’t supposed to sleep until she figured out something that would help Ford sleep and they have to go home in a few days and—

her common sense catches up to the rest of her brain and tells her to chill, and also to look around.

She does, and sees the pillow fort is more or less intact.  Dipper is still asleep with his face mashed against the Pictionary box, and he’s gonna have a heck of a red mark when he wakes up.

Ford is—

Ford is behind her, and fast asleep.

Mabel rubs her eyes to make sure she’s not dreaming, then rubs them again, even harder.  They start watering and she has to rub them a third time to clear them, but she’s definitely awake.

She’s awake, and Ford’s not.

He slipped off his pile of pillows at some point during the night, and now he’s curled up on his side.  Curled up around her, actually, which explains why she’s so warm and comfy.  

Ford slept last night, at least for a little while.  Mabel kind of wants to give a victory whoop, but she’d have to go out into the woods to avoid waking him up and she can’t be bothered to move right now.

Heavy footsteps cross the carpet, and Stan’s head pokes around the corner of the blanket.

His eyebrows shoot up when he sees Ford.  He glances at his watch, then back at Ford, and then at Mabel.  She beams proudly at him.

“You did it, kid,” he whispers.  “Remodeled the TV room, but you did it.”

“I sure did,” she whispers back.  “Power of Mabel!”  She wiggles one arm out of her blanket and points at the stairs.  “Can you get the camera?  I want a picture for my scrapbook.”

Stan winks and slips away.  Mabel carefully settles back against Ford, thinking up and discarding photo poses.  In the end, when Stan returns with the camera, she just decides to lay her head on Ford’s shoulder and smile.

“I want a copy of this picture,” Stan says, pointing at the camera.  “Photographic proof that Stanford Pines does, in fact, sleep.”

“You got it.”

“Whassat?”  Dipper blearily raises his head.  Sure enough, he’s got a big red mark on his cheek.  

Stan immediately takes another picture.

Dipper groans and rubs his eyes.  “Ow, ow, Grunkle Stan it’s—” a brief pause while Dipper realizes that he has no idea what time it is— “too early for this.”

“It’s eight o’ clock, kid, so I agree, but three out of four are already awake.”

“Three out of—”  Dipper turns.  “Oh, hey Mabel.  Is Grunkle Ford still sleeping?”

“Yeah.  He must have been really tired.”

“Idiot’s been up all week.  And injured, too,” Stan grumbles, but his expression is fond when he looks at Ford.  “Good on you for getting him to sleep, kids.”

“Thanks, Grunkle Stan.”  Mabel glances down at Ford, suddenly anxious.  “What are you gonna do when we leave?  Is he going to stop sleeping again?”

“I’ll make him a pillow fort every d—dang night if that’s what it takes to get him to sleep.”  Stan’s voice is dead serious, and it makes Mabel feel better.

“Okay.”  She leans against Ford again, determined to stay until he wakes up on his own.  “I don’t think you’ll have to, though.  I think he’ll be okay.”

Stan smiles at her, a kind of contented she doesn’t usually see from him. 

“I think we all will, pumpkin.

Mabel smiles back.  She thinks they will, too.

[thepeanutbutterwizard]

Precipice Chapter 5: The Saddest Song

Here we go!  The angst train is leaving the station!

Chapter 4       Chapter 6

Warnings for blood, violence, and some...freaky-deaky eerie magical implications.

This one guys, this one got painful.  Enjoy!

Ford was paralyzed.  No, no, nonono.  This can’t be happening.  This can’t be real.  His breath hitched in his lungs, and it felt like ice was forming in his chest, squeezing his heart.  He was caught like a deer in the headlights under the yellow glare coming from his brothers eyes.

”IN THE FLESH FORDSY!” Bill cackled through Stan. “WELL, NOT MY FLESH YET, BUT THIS IS BETTER THAN NOTHING.  ESPECIALLY SINCE YOU DECIDED TO BLOCK ALL MY CALLS.”  Bill awkwardly moved Stan’s broken arm and knocked the plaster cast against his head, hard. “TALK ABOUT RUDE.”

Blood stated to seep through the bandages around Stan’s head where Bill had banged the cast against it.  The sight of the crimson stain growing on the white bandages snapped Ford out of his stupor. “BILL!”  Ford yelled, his voice thick with fear and rage “Get out of my brother!”

”AWW LOOK AT YOU FORDSY, PRETENDING TO BE A CARING BROTHER AFTER FORTY YEARS OF HATING OL’ STANLEY’S GUTS!  IT’S ADORABLE WATCHING YOU MEAT SACKS AND YOUR DELUSIONS OF LOVE AND ALL THAT JUNK!”  Bills grin impossibly got wider, stretching Stanley’s face to the point that it made Ford’s cheeks hurt just looking at him.  “BUT HEY, IF YOU INSIST ON PRETENDING TO LOVE YOUR DUMB BROTHER, I’LL PLAY ALONG!”  Bill twisted, swinging Stanley’s broken arm over to the one that was tied to the bed.  Before Ford could even process what Bill was doing, he grabbed Stan’s thumb and gave it a hard wrench.  A sickening ‘pop’ echoed through the hospital room, and Bill slid Stan’s hand through the restraint with a loud, pleased laugh.  “OHH MAN!  I FORGOT HOW AMAZING IT FEELS TO DISLOCATE FINGERS!  I MEAN, A DISLOCATED ARM IS FUN AND ALL, BUT THERE’S JUST SOMETHING SO INTENSE ABOUT DISLOCATING SOMETHING SO SMALL!”  Bill reached down and undid the restraints around Stan’s ankles, before throwing the thin hospital sheet and Mabel’s beautiful gift to the floor.  He swung around, hanging Stan’s legs off the side of the bed, and threw his arms out as best he could, tugging the IV lines taught.  “COME GIVE YOUR BROTHER A HUG SIXER!  WE BOTH KNOW YOU WANT TO!”

Ford took a step back, mind racing.  “This is a trick!  Enough of your games Cipher!  Leave me in peace!”  This was all a dream.  That was the only situation that made sense.  Ford must have fallen asleep in that chair, and left himself open, vulnerable to Cipher and his power over the Mindscape. That had to be what was happening.  Ford knew that Stan would never fall for Bill’s tricks and flattery.

“OH HO HO, YOU WISH THIS WAS A TRICK SIXER!”  Bill cackled  “YOU WISH THAT THIS WAS JUST ONE OF YOUR NIGHTMARES!  BUT, NOPE, THIS IS 100 PERCENT, CERTIFIABLY REAL!”  Bill waved Stan’s arms around, doing his best to aggravate Stan’s broken arm by banging it against his chest repeatedly.  “Y’SEE, EVEN THOUGH HE ISN’T QUITE PRESENT, STANNY BOY’S MINDSCAPE IS VERY MUCH ACTIVE!  WELL,  IT’S AS ACTIVE AS AN IDIOT LIKE YOUR BROTHER’S CAN BE!”

“Don’t you dare!”  Ford roared, pointing a finger at Bill and taking a step forward.  Hot rage and icy fear were both swirling in Fords chest, making it difficult to decide what to do.  Part of him wanted to flee, and part of him wanted to fight.  But Ford was certain of one thing: whatever he did, he wasn’t going to leave Stanley.  “Don’t you dare insult my brother!”

Bill waved Stanley’s right hand dismissively, making the dislocated thumb stick out at an awkward angle.  A small trickle of blood started to flow out from under Stanley’s bandages. “OH PUH-LEASE SMART GUY!  DON’T PRETEND THAT I’M NOT SAYING ANYTHING THAT YOU HAVEN’T THOUGHT!  I’VE SEEN EVERY INCH OF YOUR MIND STANFORD!  WE BOTH AGREE THAT STANLEY IS JUST A GOOD-FOR-NOTHING LYING BUM!”

“Shut up Bill!  Shut up and leave him alone, he’s hurt!”  Ford took another step towards Bill, hands held out in a placating gesture.  Over Stan’s shoulder, Ford caught sight of a small metal tray next to the bed, with a single needle filled with a clear drug, resting on it.  One of the doctors must have left it, in case Stanley had woken up violently again.  A vague plan, more like a snippet of one, started to form in Ford’s mind.  Perhaps I could use that to expel Bill from Stanley’s body.  I just need to get around him with out Bill figuring out what I’m trying to do, or else who knows what he could try to do to Stanley. Let’s see if I can get him rambling.  Bill loves to talk about himself.  “Leave, before one of the doctors comes to see why his breathing tube disconnected.”  Ford knew it was a clumsy change in topic, but he had to try.

“PFFT, AS IF SIXER!”  Bill didn’t seem to notice or care about Fords desperate conversation switch.  “I’VE BEEN TRYING TO GET AHOLD OF THIS BODY SINCE STANLEY BROKE HIS SKULL OPEN!  EVEN WHEN HE’S HALUCINATING ABOUT YOU TWO BEING ON THAT STUPID BOAT, STANLEY’S PRETTY CRAFTY!  A CONMAN AFTER MY OWN NONEXISTANT HEART, HE IS!”  Bill’s voice was filled with mock pride as he spoke.  It made Ford sick to hear him talking about Stanley, his Stanley, his brother, his twin, like he was some sort of prized protégée.  “I’M INSULTED THAT YOU THINK I WOULD WASTE ALL OF THAT EFFORT TO GET HERE WITHOUT MAKING SURE THE MEAT SACKS THAT FIX BROKEN MEAT SACKS WERE OUT OF THE WAY!  NO ONE IS GOING TO BOTHER COMING AROUND HERE FOR AT LEAST AN HOUR AND A HALF.”   Bill’s grin shifted into something more taunting.  A spike of fear stabbed Ford in the heart.  Oh no, what now?  “IN FACT I’M SO INSULTED, I THINK I MIGHT DO...THIS!!”  In one swift movement, Bill dislocated another one of Stan’s fingers, letting out another insane peal of laughter.

“STOP!”  Ford’s voice cracked as he screamed at Bill.  “Bill, please, please I’m begging you!”  He reached out to Stanley, taking another step forward.  Ford’s outstretched hand’s were mere inches away from Stanley’s wrists.  Maybe if I go now, I could get to the sedative, and end this now!

“REALLY?  THE HIGH AND MIGHTY DR. STANFORD FILBRICK PINES PhD TIMES TWELVE, BROUGHT SO LOW THAT HE’S BEGGING SOMEONE FOR SOMETHING?  I NEVER THOUGHT I’D SEE THE DAY!”  Bill taunted  “AND I NEVER THOUGHT YOUR DUMB BROTHER WOULD BE THE THING YOU’RE BEGGING FOR!”  Bill laughed, smacking Stanley’s thigh with his broken arm as he did so.  The cast clunked as it hit the brace on Stanley’s leg, and Bill laughed harder at the pain  "THAT IS RICH I TELL YA FORDSY!  BUT HEY, SINCE YOU’RE BEGGING AND ALL, YOU MIGHT AS WELL DO IT PROPERLY!”  Bill placed one of Stanley’s injured fingers on Fords forehead and gave a weak push.  Ford had no choice but to step back, further away from the demon wearing his brother’s skin and the syringe that could end the living hell Ford had to rescue Stan from.  “WHY DON’T YOU TAKE A COUPLE OF STEPS BACK FORDSY?  GIVE US SOME SPACE, AND KNEEL FOR US SIXER!”  Bill cackled.

Ford hesitated.  He couldn’t kneel to Cipher!  He needed to stay on his feet, needed to get to that sedative, before Bill tried to throw Stanley’s body down the stairs across the hall, or something even worse.  And even though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, a small part of Ford felt repulsed at the idea of showing any sort of subservience to the triangular demon, for any reason.  Ford was long past the days he thought Bill was worth any sort of praise.

Bills smile twisted sinisterly.  “WELL, THAT’S A SHAME THAT IS.  YOU CAN’T EVEN BEG FOR YOUR OWN BROTHER’S LIFE PROPERLY!  BUT HEY, WE BOTH KNOW YOU DON’T REALLY LOVE THIS GUY SIXER! YOU JUST WANNA PLAY THE HERO LIKE ALWAYS, DON’T YOU?  BE THE BETTER BROTHER AGAIN, RIGHT?”  Bill scoffed.  “BUT REALLY, THIS GUY ISN’T WORTH YOUR PITY.  YOU CAN DROP THE ACT FORDSY, IT’S JUST US TWO OLD FRIENDS HERE!”  Bill rolled his eyes in disdain and absently waved Stanley’s hand around, gesturing vaguely towards the ceiling with Stanley’s dislocated fingers. “WELL, STAN IS FLOATING AROUND HERE TOO, BUT HE’S A LITTLE, ‘OUT OF ORDER’ AT THE MOMENT, IF YOU CATCH MY DRIFT.” Bill laughed, lower and more sinisterly than normal.  The demons words alarmed Ford.  What could he mean by that?  Bill reached over and grabbed another one of Stanley’s fingers.

Ford’s heart leapt straight into his throat, almost choking him as he desperately cried out to the demon “WAIT!”  Ford held his hands up and dropped to his knees, looking up at Bill.  “Wait.  Please, I’m kneeling Bill. I am kneeling and I am begging you to leave Stanley alone.”  Ford watched in trepidation as Bill eyed him with an unreadable look on Stanley’s face.  A familiar feeling of unease settled in Ford’s stomach.  He could remember the days when Stanley and him had been able to read each others faces like open books.  Ever since Ford had been brought home, that bond had been achingly absent despite Ford’s attempts to ignore that feeling of loss, but it was the times when he would look at Stanley and not be able to read anything off of him that Ford felt the absence of that connection the most.  This time was a thousand times worse than all the other times though.  “Please, just give me my brother back, Bill.”

Bill laughed. “THIS IS PATHETIC SIXER!  YOU SOUND JUST LIKE STANLEY HERE DID WHEN WE MADE OUR DEAL LAST NIGHT.” 

Ford blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Bill groaned  “STAN’S MINDSCAPE HAS BEEN STUCK ON ONE PARTICULAR MEMORY SINCE HIS HILARIOUS LITTLE ACCIDENT.  SOME DUMB THING WITH THE TWO OF YOU ON THAT BEAT UP OLD BOAT.  HE KEPT IGNORING ME WHEN HE THOUGHT THE TWO OF YOU WERE STILL BUDDY-BUDDY, AND HIS MINDSCAPE IS SO MUDDLED THAT IT TOOK ME AWHILE TO DREDGE UP A DIFFERENT MEMORY TO STICK HIM IN.  BUT BOY, WAS IT WORTH IT!  IT TOOK BARELY A MINUTE BEFORE STANLEY WAS BEGGING ME ‘I WANT MY BROTHER BACK, PLEASE, JUST GIVE ME MY BROTHER BACK.” Bill mocked. “AND, AS A BONUS, THAT MADE HIM START FREAKING OUT OUT HERE.  NOW THAT WAS A GREAT SHOW!”

Ford gaped up at Bill.  “What memory did you-did you put Stanley in?”  Ford knew Stan had gone to jail before, and a vague memory having to do with the trunk of a car poked the corners of his brain.  He had no idea what could have been so bad, so terrible, to make Stanley react the way he did.

Bill smirked at Ford, leered at him down on the ground.  The blood running down Stanley’s face had increased, and had started to drip off of his chin.  The crimson droplets fell all the way down to the floor, landing on the blanket Mabel had knit.  The grey wool of the sailboat absorbed the blood, turning a murky, ugly color.  “I JUST TOOK HIM BACK TO THE WORST NIGHT OF HIS LIFE FORDSY.”  Bill said in a manner-of-fact tone.  “THE NIGHT HE GOT KICKED OUT AND STARTED LIVING IN HIS CAR.”  Bill held Fords gaze for a moment, yellow against brown, before he wrenched Stanley’s finger backward.  There was a sickening ‘snap’ along with the horrible ‘pop’, and Bill laughed hysterically as Ford cried out in desperation “STOP IT!”

“OH MAN OH MAN OH MAN, I THINK I BROKE THAT FINGER AND DISLOCATED IT AT THE SAME TIME!  I’VE NEVER DONE THAT BEFORE SIXER, NOT EVEN WITH YOU!”  Bill wiped a mirthful tear off of Stanley’s face, smearing the blood from Stanley’s head wound.  He grabbed another one of Stanley’s fingers, smiling with cruel glee.

“PLEASE BILL, PLEASE!”  Ford screamed at the demon, tears filling his eyes again. His hands smacked the ground, fingers spread wide.  “LEAVE HIM ALONE!!”  Ford couldn’t look up at the demon anymore, couldn’t bare to see those yellow eyes in his brothers face.  He bowed his head, screwed his eyes shut, and tried to look as submissive as possible.  Ford clenched his teeth, holding back a sob.  He felt so useless!  The only reason Stanley was in this mess in the first place was because of Ford and his research and his stubborn pride.  Ford had to play along with Bill’s sick game until he could get the sedative, and hopefully that would work.  If he had to kneel and beg, he would kneel and he would beg.  For Stanley.

“HMM, YOU KNOW, THAT’S A REALLY CONVINCING ARGUMENT STANFORD.”  Bills voice dripped with sarcasm.  “I THINK I’M ACTUALLY GONNA LISTEN TO YOU AND LEAVE THIS WORTHLESS WASTE OF SPACE YOU CALL A BROTHER.”  Ford’s hands clenched into fists on the ground as Bill insulted Stanley again, but he forced himself not to react.  There was a tense pause.  “HAHA, JUST KIDDING!  WE BOTH KNOW I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE UNTILL I GET WHAT I WANT FORDSY!”  Bill said in a sing-song tone, swinging Stanley’s good leg back and forth to beat out a solemn rhythm on the side of the hospital bed.

“The Rift.”  Ford breathed out, eyes snapping open to stare at the hospital floor.  Of course that was what this was all about.  Bill was holding Stanley hostage in order to get the Rift.  Ford’s stomach dropped in despair.

“DING DING DING, YOU GOT IT IN ONE TRY!”  Bill mockingly cheered, clapping Stanley’s injured hands together.  Ford felt nauseous when he saw the angles Stanley’s finger were bent at.  “NOW, HERE’S WHAT WE’LL DO.  I’LL PLAY COMATOSE FOR A BIT WHILE YOU RUN HOME AND GET THE RIFT!  WE TRADE OFF, ONE TEAR IN THE VERY FABRIC OF SPACE FOR ONE USELESS BROKEN OLD MEAT-SACK, AND THEN WE’LL CALL IT A DAY!  HOW’S THAT SOUND FORDSY, DO WE HAVE A DEAL?”  Bill offered Ford a handshake with Stanley’s mangled hand, a smug, self-confident grin on his stolen face.

“No.”  The word barely made it out of Ford’s mouth, but it still stung and burned his throat as he forced himself to say it.  “You can’t have the Rift.”  Ford knew he was condemning his brother to further torture, and every molecule he was comprised of protested.  But if Bill got the Rift, Stanley, as well as everyone else in Fords home dimension, would be as good as dead.  Ford knew he could force Bill out of his brother’s body, he knew that this was the right decision, the only decision that could be made.  But that didn’t stop him from hating himself for it.

“HMM.”  Bill hummed contemplatively, and Ford felt his heart stop and his blood run cold.  He had been expecting Bill to rage, and more than likely make Stanley suffer more.  Ford had been hoping that Bill would get so angry he could make a dash for the sedative.  Now, he froze to the ground, terrified of what Bill had planned for Stanley.  “WELL THEN,” Bill pulled Stanley’s hand back and leaned closer to Ford.  Ford sat up higher, leaning back on his heels, his face less than a foot away from where Bill’s eyes shone out of Stanley’s face.  “WHAT IF I SWEETEN THE DEAL?”

“What?”  Ford’s voice cracked as he spoke.  The knowing smile Bill had twisted onto his brothers face was unnerving, and his yellow eyes were far too close.

“Y’SEE FORDSY, THE PHSICAL WORLD THAT YOU’RE PART OF TIES DIRECTLY INTO THE MINDSCAPE.  IT HAS A LOT MORE INFLUENCE ON MY DOMAIN THAN I’VE LET ON BEFORE.”  Bill voice took on a tone that Ford remembered him using back when they were working on the Portal together.  It was candid, with a touch of condescension that had always slightly irked Ford back then, but he had ignored it in favor of learning from what he had considered a muse at the time.  Now, it sent unpleasant chills down Fords spine.  “STANLEY TOOK A HUGE HIT TO THE HEAD, AND ALL THE TRAUMA TO HIS BRAIN HAS REALLY DONE A NUMBER ON HIS MINDSCAPE.  THAT, PLUS ALL THE DRUGS THAT ARE PUMPING INTO HIS FLESHY MEAT-SACK BODY,”  Bill waved Stan’s arm, straining the IV lines further and causing blood to bubble up on Stanley’s arm where they were inserted.  “LEAVES STANNY HERE A PRIME CANDIDATE FOR SOME MUCH NEEDED...REWIRING, YOU COULD CALL IT.”  Bill gave Ford a sly grin.

Confusion swirled through Ford for a moment, before the full implications of what Bill was saying crashed down on Ford with the force of an asteroid careening through Earth’ s atmosphere and landing on him.  A small, choked gasp wheezed out of Ford.  Pure panic clouded his thoughts, turning them into a jumble of not possible, can’t be true, need to save Stanley, what has he done, and leaving him frozen in place.  “You didn’t...” Ford coughed out, horrified at what he might hear.

“DON’T WORRY, I HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING YET!”  Bill said  “I WOULD NEED TO MAKE A DEAL WITH SOMEONE TO HAVE ENOUGH POWER TO RESHAPE A HUMAN’S MIND AND PERSONALITY.”   He smacked Stanley in the head with the cast again.  “EVEN WHEN IT’S AS SCREWED UP AS THIS ONE IS.  SO!”  Bill clapped Stanley’s hands together in excitement.  “YOU HAND ME THE RIFT, I GIVE YOU A NEW-AND-IMPROVED TWIN!” 

“...new-and-improved...”  Ford murmured numbly.  This was worse than he could have imagined.  Bill was in Stanley’s head, and worse than that, Bill could...he could...alter Stanley’s mind and personality.  Bill could rewrite the core of his brothers being, his very soul.

All he needed was someone to make a deal with him.

And Bill thought Ford would want-would be the one to-his own brother-

“SOUNDS PRETTY GREAT, DOESN’T IT?”  Bill said eagerly, leaning closer to Ford with a conspiratorial look on his face.  “WHAT DO YOU WANT DONE?  YOU TWO ARE ALWAYS FIGHTING, SO I BET YOU’D LIKE HIM TO BE MORE SUBMISSIVE.  I CAN FIX HIS SENSE OF HUMOR TOO, MAKE IT MORE YOUR STYLE.  I CAN MAKE HIM LIKE THAT NERDY GAME YOU THINK IS SO GREAT.  AND I KNOW YOU HATE THE MYSTERY SHACK, SO WE CAN HAVE STANNY HERE SHUT THAT DOWN EASY-PEASY.  OH!  I CAN EVEN MAKE HIM SMARTER, BELIEVE IT OR NOT!”  Bill leaned back, throwing Stanley’s arms wide and finally managing to rip the IV lines out of Stanley’s arm.  Blood spurted, landing all over the knit blanket on the floor.  Bill didn’t notice.  “THE SKY IS THE LIMIT FORDSY!  YOU CAN MAKE THE TWIN BROTHER YOU ALWAYS WANTED!  WHADDAYA SAY?  DO WE HAVE A DEAL?”  Bill held Stanley’s hand out to Ford again.

Stanley’s mangled hand hung in front of Ford’s face.  He looked at it, and his eyes trace up Stanley’s arm, past the fingers that were sticking out at odd angles, the blood that was dribbling down his arm and dripping onto the blanket, and Ford focused on Stanley’s face.  Not the lurid yellow eye’s with slit-like pupils, not the too wide, unnerving grin, but the ghost of a six-knuckled bruise on his jaw.  The bruise Stanley had gotten because he was stubborn, and unwilling to listen to reason, and loyal to a fault, and for some reason he though that Ford was worth more than an entire dimension.  The horror Ford had felt at Bill’s talk of remaking Stanley ignited into rage.  Ford pushed himself off of his knees.

“No.”  This time he said it firmly, his voice stronger than it had been during the whole cursed conversation with Bill.

Bill looked affronted “NO?  YOU’RE TURNING DOWN AN OFFER LIKE THIS?  YOU GIVE ME ONE MEASLY TEAR IN THE FABRIC OF REALITY, AND I GIVE YOU THE PERFECT TWIN BROTHER, A ONCE IN A LIFETIME OPPORTUNITY, AND YOU’RE TELLING ME NO!?”  Bill growled out the last word.

“I would never agree to doing something like that to anybody, no matter the circumstances!”  Ford growled back, fists clenched at his sides.  “I’ll never hand the Rift over to you, and I’ll never take your deal for the ‘perfect twin’” He spat the words out like they were venom.  “All I want is to have my brother back!”

Bill was silent for a moment, then he let out a derisive snort and forced Stanley’s body to stand.  He swayed for a moment, distressing Ford, before he found his balance, standing with most of his weight on Stanley’s left leg.  Ford saw his chance to grab the sedative. “WRONG CHOICE SIXER.”  Bill snarled.

Ford dove around Stanley’s right side, aiming to vault the bed, but Bill lifted Stanley’s broken arm, and Ford’s face collided with the hard plaster cast.  Ford reeled back, stunned, and Bill staggered, but managed to keep Stanley’s body upright.  Ford recovered first, diving onto the bed and reaching for the sedative.

“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?”  Stanley’s cast clipped the side of Ford’s head, spinning him around.  His fingertips clipped the edge of the tray holding the sedative, tipping it over onto the bed.  A bony knee pressed down onto Ford’s stomach, and Ford instinctively curled his hand into a fist, pulled it back, and-

-he dropped the fist as quickly as he had made it.  Don’t hurt Stanley!  Ford put his hands again Stanley’s chest and started to push-

-until he felt the broken ribs.  He couldn’t do anything to defend himself without hurting Stanley!

“WHAT’S THE MATTER FORDSY? AFRAID OF HURTING YOUR IDIOT BROTHER?”  Bill laughed over Ford, and reached for his throat with Stanley’s right hand.   “HEY! THIS’LL MAKE A GREAT STORY FOR THE NEWS! ‘STAN PINES WAKES FROM COMA JUST TO MURDER HIS BROTHER AND JUMP OFF THE ROOF’!”  The dislocated and broken fingers meant Bill had to press the heel of Stanley’s hand against his wind pipe, forcing Ford’s head down and back, the top of it pressing into the mattress.

Ford struggled to breath, and already darkness started to encroach upon his vision.  Upside-down, Ford was able to see the syringe. Clumsily, with his sight dimming and everything starting to go fuzzy, Ford wrapped one hand around Stanley’s forearm, and with the other he snagged the syringe, miraculously without stabbing himself with the needle.  With a strangled gasp, Ford plunged the needle into Stanley’s forearm.

For a moment, nothing happened.  Everything around Ford faded to a murky blur, with the bright yellow of Bill’s eyes staying vibrant.  The word’s I’m sorry, Stanley echoed through Ford’s head.

Then, Stanley’s arm buckled.  Ford gasped, sucking in a desperate breath of air.  Above him, Bill was resting Stanley’s forearm on Ford’s chest, the syringe sticking out of it.  Ford could feel blood soak into his sweater.  “WHAAT WAS THA SHTUFF?”  Bill slurred, blinking and shaking Stanley’s head back and forth.  His yellow eyes got hazy and half-lidded, and Bill struggled to keep Stanley’s body upright.  “YOU THINK THISH IS OVER SSHIXER? WON’ BELON’ FOR I’M BACK STANFERD.  GONNA MAKE ‘NOTHER DEEL SHOON, ‘NTHEN I’LL GET TH’ RIFT.  YER GONNA SLIP UP, N’ WHEN YA DO...”  Bill struggled to say more, but Stanley’s body finally gave out, succumbing to the drug, collapsing on top of Ford.  “UUUGHHHnnn...”  Bill gave a final groan, his voice fading out and Stanley’s deeper, more gravely voice filled Ford’s ears.  The yellow faded from Stanley’s eyes as they slid shut.

Ford lay on the bed for a moment, stunned and trying to catch his breath.  Stanley rested on top of him, unmoving.  With a sudden jolt, Ford remembered all of Stanley’s injuries, and his IV’s needed to be reinserted, and his breathing tube was- Stanley’s breathing tube was out!

As quickly as he could without being too rough on his brother’s battered body, Ford wormed out from underneath him.  Ford checked Stanley’s breathing quickly, and was relieved to find a trickle of air passing through his brother’s lips, though it was weak and irregular.  Ford felt bile rise in his throat as he redid the restraints around Stanley’s wrist and ankles, but he couldn’t let the hospital staff know what had really happened.  At best Ford could see them removing him from Stanley’s room, and at worst they would retain him on suspicions of mental instability.  Neither was a viable option.

Ford carefully relocated and set Stanley’s injured fingers, which were swelling and turning lurid shades of blue and purple and green.  Stanley’s arm was still bleeding, so Ford peeled his new sweater off and wadded it around Stanley’s arm.  Before leaving he retrieved the button-down from the bathroom and threw it on, only doing up a few buttons as he sped out of the hospital room.  Stanley was the only patient in the ICU, and there wasn’t a doctor or nurse in sight.

Ford skidded out of the ICU, swinging his trench coat on.  He made it down two more hallways before almost literally running into a pair of doctors.

After some shouting and overly excited arm waving, Ford was able to rush the doctors into Stanley’s room.  Luckily for Ford, his frantic behavior discouraged the doctors from asking too many questions.  While one doctor tended to Stanley, the other insisted on looking at Ford’s bruising face.  Not for the first time, Ford’s nose had been broken, although this was the first time Ford had been injured by Stanley’s hand.

At a request from Ford, the blanket and sweater Mabel had knit were taken and washed quickly.  He couldn’t bare to think of Mabel seeing that the gifts she had made for Stanley and him were missing.  One of the doctors, with the help of a nurse he had brought in, jury-rigged a restraint for Stanley’s broken arm.

After Ford was left alone with Stanley again, he collapsed into his chair.  Ford couldn’t take his eyes off of his brothers face, which was slack and relaxed now, a contrast to the manic grin Bill had forced onto his face.

Ford sighed, hanging his head.  Bill had possessed Stanley.  It was something Ford hadn’t considered a possibility before, and now because of his short-sightedness, Bill had manipulated his brother, tormented him both physically and mentally. 

And then, there was the...rewiring Bill had talked about.  Simply thinking about what Bill was suggesting made Ford feel terrified.  More than that, it made Ford feel completely helpless.  Ford could protect Stanley physically- though he had already failed at that-but there was nothing Ford could do to protect Stanley in his own mind!

All Bill needed was a deal.

It didn't matter who he made it with.

And Ford would lose his brother again, but this time, there would be no possible way to get him back.

“Oh Stanley, what are we going to do?”  Ford sighed.  Unsurprisingly, Stanley didn’t answer.

Ford stood and paced, trying to think of a plan, a course of action, anything!  But the only thoughts that filled his head were of Bill, poking around in Stanley’s mind, scrambling it, reshaping it, remaking his brother into someone he wasn’t, and the knowledge that Bill could be doing so at that very moment.  If there was any food in Ford’s stomach, it would have come up again.  He couldn’t think, there were too many thoughts swirling through his head.  Ford longed for one of his Journals, just so he could have some way to organize his thoughts!  At the thought of his Journals, a small plan started to form.  He would have to work fast, and he needed to look through his Journals first, but maybe, just maybe, he might have a chance to fix things.  But first he needed to get his Journals, and he couldn’t wait till morning.

The door clicked open, and Ford whirled to face it.  A young nurse walked in, holding Stanley’s blanket and Ford’s sweater, freshly cleaned.  She started at Ford’s behavior, but she quickly relaxed and gave Ford a kind smile.  

“Here you go sir.”  She held the knit items out to Ford, and he snatched them out of her hands with a murmur of thanks.  Ford gently draped the blanket over Stanley, feeling a twinge of painful nostalgia when he saw the sailboat again.  He quickly turned back to the young nurse, catching her attention before she left.

“Excuse me, miss?  I need to use a phone.  And a phone book.”

The nurse lead Ford to the desk just outside of Stanley’s room.  Ford felt immediate unease leaving Stanley alone, but it was necessary.  

It took Ford far too long to find the number for the Ramirez household, and even longer for him to get the exhausted Soos on the other end of the line to give him the number of Wendy’s cellular phone.  Then it took him two tries before Wendy responded.

“Whotheflipisthisit’soneinthemorningIhopeyouhavelifeinsurancecauseI’mgonnashankyouwhenI’mconsciousyouflamingpieceof-” 

“Wendy, it’s Dr. Pines.”  Ford cut off her slurred, half-awake tirade.

“It’s one in the morning.”  Wendy said flatly.

“Yes, I am aware of that-”

“Why’re you calling me at one in the morning old man?”  Wendy growled into the phone, before giving a small gasp.  “Did something else happen to Stan?”

Ford hesitated briefly before answering “No, Stan is fine.  I need you to do me a favor.  It’s urgent.”

On the other end of the line, Ford heard Wendy shifting around.  “Okay.  What do you need me to do at this ungodly hour Stan Two?”

Ford blinked, mildly surprised at her quick cooperation.  He was about to request that she collect his Journals and bring them to him at the hospital, but he saw two looming flaws in that plan.  One, the time it would take for the Journals to get to him, and two, he would have to leave Stanley alone if he were to put his plan into action.  

“Hey, Stan Two, are you still there?”  Wendy’s voice brought Ford out of his reverie.

“Yes.  Wendy, I need you to listen to me, very carefully.  This could help Stanley’s recovery, but speed is of the essence.”  Ford carefully listed off everything he needed Wendy to do.  Occasionally, Wendy would have him repeat something, and Ford could hear the sound of something scratching against paper on the end of the phone. 

“Is that everything Doc?”  Wendy asked.

“Yes.  That should be all.”  Ford said, running through everything in his head.

“Okay.  I’ll get started on all of this...weird junk you need me to do.  See you in a bit.”

“Wendy?”  Ford stopped her from hanging up on him just yet.  “Thank you.  For helping me and my family with all of this.”

“Yeah.  No prob, dude.”  Wendy’s voice had a touch of concern to it.  “Just hang in there.”  She ended the call.

Ford returned to Stanley’s room, finally changing back into the sweater from Mabel.  It was still warm from the wash.  Then, he waited.

An hour passed.

Then two.

As the third hour passed, Ford was ready to tear the hospital room apart.

A knock came from the window, making Ford jump.  He stalked over to it, cautiously peeking through the curtains.  Wendy was perched outside of the hospital window.  The fourth floor hospital window.  Ford pulled the window open and Wendy slid inside.  Instead of her typical Corduroy family flannel, she had on a dark tank top with a wolf on it and shorts, and she had a backpack slung over her shoulders.

“What were you doing out there?”  Ford scolded her.  “You could have fallen to your death!”

Wendy swung the backpack off and started rummaging through it.  “Relax old man.  I’ve been climbing trees higher than that since I was eight.”

“I don’t doubt your skill Wendy.”  Ford said.  “I would just prefer that no one else ends up in the hospital anytime soon.”

“Oh.”  Wendy gave Ford an unreadable look.  “Sorry, Dr. Pines.  Visiting hours are closed right now.�� That was the only way I could get in.”  She started to hand things to Ford; a small cloth sack with contents that clinked softly, several old mercury thermometers stolen from the Gravity Falls museum, photocopies of Journal 3 that Ford had found in his basement lab, a bottle of glue, a few tools Ford had picked up from other dimensions and, to Ford’s complete surprise, a small sandwich bag full of rainbow toned unicorn hair.

“How in the multiverse did you manage to get this?”  Ford stared at the unicorn hair in wonder.

“Fairy Dust.”  Wendy said shortly.  “I’ll give you the whole story tomorrow.  Or, y’know, when today feels like daytime.”

Ford winced apologetically.  “I’m sorry that I had to wake you at this hour.”

Wendy shrugged her backpack on. “Eh, it’s cool dude.  You’re just trying to help your brother.  I know the feeling.”  She gave him a small smile before slipping back out the window.  Ford watched her make it safely to the ground before setting to work.

It took him around twenty minutes to bury the moonstones and mercury in the linoleum floor with the tools he had gotten from Dimension Z#’m, and another fifteen to glue the unicorn hair around the whole room, going up and around the door frame.  It was far too much time.

Ford didn’t finish the barrier completely.  Right next to Stanley’s bed, down near the floor, there was a tiny gap.  Ford didn’t know if Bill was in Stanley’s mind or not, and he had to make sure that Stanley’s mind was free of the demon before he sealed the room.  Ford moved his chair close to the head of Stanley’s bed and rifled through the copies of his Journal.  With a satisfied hum, Ford found the page he was looking for.  The incantation that would allow him to enter his brothers mind.

Ford reached out to place his hand on Stanley’s forehead, but he hesitated.  What would he see in his brothers mind?  If Bill was to be believed, Stanley’s mind was currently in a state of disarray.  There was a chance that Ford could cause more damage in there than good.  And, if he was being honest, Ford dreaded finding out just what his brother thought of him.  Stanley must hate him by now.  But if Ford did nothing, than Bill could-he could-

‘...MAKE ANOTHER DEAL SOON...YOU’LL SLIP UP AND WHEN YOU DO...NEW-AND-IMPROVED TWIN...MUCH NEEDED REWIRING...’  Bills sinister words came back to Ford.  It didn’t matter if Stanley hated Ford, and Ford wouldn’t blame his brother at all if he never wanted to see him again after this.  Stanley needed Ford’s help, not for him to turn away again!

Ford took a deep breath and placed his hand on Stanley’s forehead, carefully minding the fresh bandages and stitches, and read the incantation.

“Videntus omnium. Magister mentium.

Magnesium ad hominem. Magnum opus.

Habeas corpus! Inceptus Nolanus overratus!

Magister mentium! Magister mentium! MAGISTER MENTIUM!”

Everything faded to white.