#but ford is projecting his guilt and self loathing as usual

[thethespacecoyote]

do you guys fw hate plague as a trope. can you imagine stan getting afflicted by some anomaly that causes it while they're adventuring, and it makes him say all the terrible things that ford believes about himself post weirdmaggedon? and ford nearly gives into despair and guilt before realizing that something is wrong with stan and figuring out a way to dispel it. and then they have to talk

[impishnature]

Comfort

Rating: G Summary: Prompt from @ghost-soda-blog ‘Your smile’s not as bright as it used to be’ AN: This one got huge and then my pc deleted it ;A; I managed to save about 4000 words and just got back round to writing the other 1000-1500. Fingers crossed it’s as good as the first version!

It was a quiet day in the Mystery Shack, a peaceful lull in amidst the usual daily visitors and the exuberant bursts of activity that only the Pines family seemed capable of.

Or at least it was quiet, the early morning sunlight filtering through the window, the air soft and hushed as the family inside slowly awoke from, for once, blissful dreams. It was a quiet, unusually normal, morning for the household, tranquil, warm and frankly calming in nature.

That is, until there was a sudden loud clatter from inside an open doorway, a cloud of dust escaping to billow out onto the landing along with a string of curses that quickly cut out into a coughing fit.

"God, this- hack- this place is a mess." Ford flinched back quickly as another plume of dust puffed out of the box he'd been elbow deep in. He hadn't meant to cause quite so much damage, the grit and grime of the room cementing onto his skin irritatingly, gaining another layer with what felt like every movement. It made him want to instantly leave and have a shower, maybe return with cleaning materials instead of making any headway into the job at hand. Procrastination reared it's head as well as he stared at the upended boxes that he'd managed to knock over, wondering about tidying them up, cleaning up after himself or continuing in his mission to find the precious childhood boxes that, even whilst angry with his brother, he hadn't had the heart to throw away.

He steeled himself as he visualised the boxes, cleaning and tidying could wait, a shower could wait, until he had found what he was searching for. He turned back to the open one he had managed to pull from the pile, the scrawled words across the side giving him hope as he trawled through it for the items he desperately wanted to find.

Anything to help with Stan's memories. Anything at all.

The fervour spurred him on, a small pile of items forming on the floor beside him, glittering memories to show him. Yet at the same time it had to contend with the nerves tugging at his heartstrings, the whispering, niggling voice in his chest that told him even now it was all for nothing. So terrified that the blank stare would come his way, the apologetic frown and guilty eyes that could so easily morph into self-loathing if Ford didn't school his disappointment quickly enough.

He wasn't sure he could take it. He needed Stan to remember him, but the thought of trying and getting nowhere... he didn't know if he had it in him not to break.

"I'm sorry. I don't remember."

It was hard to listen to his brother apologise so earnestly. It just wasn't like him.

None of this was like him, not the Stan that he remembered.

He sighed deeply, brushing the thoughts aside as he got to work, ignoring the steadily growing doubts. He couldn't just stop trying, that wasn't an option. Sure it hurt like hell, and his chest ached with every failure, but something had to give at some point. Something- anything at all, would at some point open the floodgates and let all the memories back in.

It had to.

So therefore, he couldn't just give up. Not when his brother was trying so hard, not when the kids had already shown it could be done.

He gave a high-pitch squawk, thoughts derailed as another item wedged behind a box became dislodged and fell at him, quick fumbling motions pushing it back upright and tilted to the wall. His hands hovered over it nervously, waiting for it to move again for a few more seconds, his eyes narrowed reproachfully at the inanimate object for stopping him in his efforts. He knew it was just a distraction, but he found himself latching on to it, anything better than his looming thoughts at that moment as he went back to the box, words slipping off his tongue to push back the silent darkness brewing and keep himself centred in the here and now. Right where his family was, right where Stan was. That's where he needed to be, right now. Right by their sides and ready to risk everything to stitch their little family back together again. "Honestly, Stan, is this really how you store things? This room's a death trap." He gave an exasperated but endearing huff as his eyes scanned the small storage room that clearly hadn't seen the light of day in years.

Nor had it seen a vacuum, or a duster, but Ford didn't really know if he was one to talk on that front.

"I guess I can't say anything. I let this place get the best of me when..." His eyebrows furrowed as he went back to looking in the box, his thoughts slipping back into the sapping gloom. His tangent of a distraction had ultimately led him to another set of memories that made his heart twist again, his stomach sinking as a myriad of emotions engulfed him. Sadness, guilt, regret, the sharp tang of shock and betrayal still so poignant even after all these years, after all the time in the world to accept that it had happened and heal.

They always said 'time healed all wounds' but Ford had yet to find the truth in the words. Blunted the pain, maybe. Dulled and scarred it back into a semblance of health but it was never truly gone, still there for all to see.

And so the thoughts slipped in even now, years later, filling him with a cold, cloying shame. Just how badly he had sunk into his frenzied paranoia. How much he had relied on Fiddleford before he ran from their project and left him to fend for himself and deal with the consequences of his actions... how busy he had then been focusing on thwarting Bill's plans that everything else had gone out the window. His health, his home, nothing else had mattered other than fixing the damage he had done by believing that Bill was his friend.

Never mind the house, I must have looked an absolute state by the time Stan met me.​

It almost left him wondering how much tidying and cleaning Stan must have done before the Mystery Shack- Or was it the Murder hut back then?- could actually function as a profitable tourist trap.

He shook his head, dispelling the thoughts. "Still, Stan obviously tidied up, lord only knows what state the kitchen was in..." He snorted to himself, the thoughts of possibly sentient experimental foodstuffs giving Stan a shock as he opened the fridge amusing him to no end. "So is this just where all the clutter went? Packaged up and dumped in here." The thought entertained him enough to slow his movements, mind drifting to images much more reminiscent of his brother, of 'cleaning' being moving things to where they were a lot less noticeable instead of putting them where they actually should be kept.

Out of sight, out of mind.​

The warm nostalgia dissipated as quickly as it had blossomed. The stark possibility that these items were hidden away because they were just too painful to look at bleeding through the cracks to join the more ironic and dismal present day circumstances that they now found themselves in.

Even more out of mind now. ​

"And that's why we've got to show it all to him again, that's all." Ford went back to his work with vehement energy, hands reaching desperately to grasp around a large heavy hardback book at the bottom of the box. "And we should be grateful it's all somehow still here, undamaged after everything that the Shack's been through during Weirdmaggedon." He paused, a mental note quickly filed away, one to come back to later, questioning what anomaly could have caused that particularly fortunate feat before continuing with the task at hand, tugging the book out from below it's peers. "So now that I know where all this stuff is, I can do something about fixing things. In sight, in mind, that's what we're working towards."

"I'm not sure that's how that saying's meant to go."

Ford yelped, a sudden presence behind him and softly spoken words making him jump out of his skin. The old box crumpled beneath his weight as he fell forwards, a soft groan escaping him as he found himself face down, book somehow still held aloft as if even subconsciously his brain had worked towards keeping it safe against all odds. He propped himself up, grimacing at the mouthful of dust he inhaled as he breathed in before turning to the now sheepish, and quietly trying not to giggle, girl staring back at him.

"Whoops, my bad." Mabel bit her lip, her mouth twitching into a full blown smile as she tried to look at least slightly apologetic. "If it helps- I think I like your version of the saying more?"

"That does help my bruised pride, yes." Ford smiled back at her, sitting up and shaking his head. He chuckled as her giggles intensified, bubbling past her still tight lips, a raining halo of dust escaping his hair as he moved.

"Your hair's even greyer now."

"I bet."

"Looks good though."

That really did get a snort, and a raised eyebrow at his niece.

"OK, maybe not, but I was trying to be nice." Mabel shuffled slowly into the room, slippers scuffing as she yawned and scrubbed at her eyes. "What ya doing, Grunkle Ford?"

Ford ignored the question, focusing on the sleepiness still permeating from the young girl. "I feel like I should be asking you that. There's no need for you to be up yet."

Mabel fixed him with a pointed look, smug and cheeky. "Yeah well... you're kind of loud?"

"Oh. Oh, of course, I'm sorry-" He hadn't even thought about how far the noise would travel around the house. What was he thinking looking through the storage room in the early hours? "I didn't mean to wake you, you should go back up to bed."

"Nah, I'm much more interested in what you're doing." Mabel leaned over him, looking into the now partially destroyed box. "Anything interesting hidden away in here?"

"Quite a few things actually." Ford nodded towards the small pile of items beside him, though his hands stayed trailing reverently over the book in his hands.

Mabel gave a passing glance to the pile before following his movements, the dots connecting as to which item was the more interesting. She sat cross-legged in front of him with arms outstretched, hands making curious grabbing motions. "Can I see?"

Ford grinned brightly, the smile mirroring on to her face quickly, happy to see him happy. "Yes! Of course." He looked up and down between her face and the book hesitantly, hands tapping against the cover. He wasn't worried that anything would happen to it, more just plucking up the courage to let go of it so soon after finally finding it once more. He struggled for a few wavering seconds before handing it over to her, brushing the nerves aside when he saw her patient expression. "Here."

He couldn't help but feel warmth spread as Mabel took the book slowly and surely, her face filled with concentration. She had obviously noticed his small distress at parting with it and wanted to be sure he knew he had nothing to worry about.

The book was in safe hands, that he was sure of.

She looked back up at him with a quizzical smile, hand laid flat on the front cover. It took a few seconds for him to realise she was waiting for an explanation before she looked inside. "Oh! Right, so this box here has-" He gestured behind him before giving a sharp bark of laughter. "OK, scrap that, the box is out of action now. This box was given to me when I moved out of college, my parents were throwing a lot of stuff out and said as I had my own place now it was up to me whether I kept any of it." He gave a sigh, remembering the gruff unimpressed words spewing from his father's mouth as he'd stowed the boxes in the back of his car. I don't know why you'd want the reminders, myself. They're not worth anything to anyone. If it's just to appease your mother feel free to throw it all away before you even get out of town. Good riddance to the lot of it. "A-anyway-" Ford smiled, awkward and not quite genuine as the words battered away inside his head, a small vicious battle looming as he argued them back to the recesses where they belonged. "I won't go into too much detail until later when Stan's awake. But that right there?" He tapped the cover of the book, her gaze following the movement. "That is a particularly special photo album of ours."

Mabel blinked a few times uncomprehendingly before an impossibly bigger smile blossomed across her face at the knowledge slotting into place. "It's a photo album?!" The words were exuberant though hushed, as her eyes snapped back to the front cover, glad to have waited for him to speak before she opened it now. "It doesn't look like a photo album. Why doesn't it look like a photo album? Is it you and Grunkle Stan as kids? We need more photos of you two as kids. What's special about it? Why is-"

"Whoa, whoa there, too many questions at once!" Ford held up his hands, batting away her questions with bright amusement before gesturing for her to open it. Her excitement was a breath of fresh air, brushed the brewing thunderclouds from his mind, the looming worries that it all wouldn't be enough to bring Stan back to them. "Why don't you have a look inside and tell me what you think is special about it?"

Mabel squealed softly, rocking from side to side as she did as he asked, her enthusiasm almost tangible in the still air around them. He didn't need to peer over her shoulder to see exactly what she was seeing, the book still a vivid fond memory even if, for some time, he hadn't been able to bring himself to look at it.

The first page was a sketch, scribbled and crude against what he could now achieve but he knew he'd been proud of it all the same, at the time. It was after all the first day in a myriad of bright memories that even then he had know were somehow important. It covered both pages, that drawing, a double page spread of a small shipwreck, white and shining, a stark beacon in the middle of a shadowed, mysterious cave.

There was a note beside it, not written by himself, one he had trailed his finger along countless times and was embedded into his memory as clearly as the voice he could still hear saying it. His brother's first addition of many to what he could probably say was his very first journal.

One day, Sixer, us and the Stan'O'War will be out there where we belong!​

One day.

He had begun to hope for that again himself recently.

The musings vanished along with the turning of the pages, a little gasp here and there as sketches became photos, an old camera that wouldn't sell in the pawn shop becoming their joint birthday present that year. They were both thrilled, the Stan'O'Wars restoration becoming photographed at every milestone they could afford, with either one or both of them somewhere in the mix as well.

The best photos were the ones when they'd managed to intrigue their mother enough to come and have a look, her snapshots of them both beaming proudly aboard their project some of his favourite images of all. He still had one, nestled tight in the pocket of his trench coat, that had survived the harsh journey through the portal and brought him comfort on homesick nights when Earth seemed just so far out of reach.

He smiled off into the distance for a few seconds, as Mabel lost herself in the book, his thoughts turning more optimistic. It was the perfect trip down memory lane, the Stan'O'War so ingrained in their childhoods-

Stan had to remember that once he saw the photo album.

... He just had to.

His smile dimmed as the nerves crept back in, those hissing thoughts that even this might not work latching back on, to tear and claw at his resolve. He dragged his gaze back to the present in the hopes that Mabel would kick the malaise away once and for all that morning. He needed it gone before he saw Stan, not wanting his own doubts to eat away at him too. Stan didn't deserve that, it would manifest as anger, self-loathing for disappointing Ford and he couldn't have that.

So who better to push all the doubts away than his little shining star?

He shifted forwards, smile forcefully pulled across his teeth, eyes squinting with the force he was exerting as he went to ask her what she thought of the album, hoping against hope that her usual expressive nature would brush away the remaining fog clouding his own head-

Only his words got lodged somewhere between his brain and his tongue, slipping out of his open mouth to scatter amongst the dust that littered the floor.

His little star didn't seem to be shining.

And he hadn't even noticed.

He gulped, his mouth suddenly dry as he shuffled awkwardly where he sat. Her face was so... hard to read, her usual expressive emotions so easily distinguishable nowhere to be seen. Instead there was just a small puckered frown, her mouth twisting down and her eyebrows furrowed but he couldn't quite tell if it was in sadness or in deep thought. There were no tears, not like the heartbreaking moment when Stan hadn't recognised her, nor the stark movements of her determination once they were home and she refused to give up.

This was so much... hollower, colder than anything he had seen from her before.

There were no tears, no loud bursts of anguish or denial, no optimistic chirps or that giggle that never failed to make him smile along with her.

Just her gaze locked to the picture in front of her, finger trailing across their faces as if she was seeing something he had no way of knowing. Silent and thoughtful, her face somehow impossibly sad and yet closed off all at once.

He didn't like it, not one bit and he liked even less that he might have caused it.

"Mabel? Are you OK, sweetheart? Have I done something wrong? I, uhh- oh, please don't look so- I never meant to upset you. I just thought you'd, oh, I don't know, like to see these old things- or s-something like that?" He couldn't come up with a cohesive sentence, his brain shutting down slightly in a cacophony of confused concerns. He tilted down lower to try and be at eye level as she blinked and seemed to come back into the room.

She shook herself, small hands jerking away from the book to pull her circling finger back into her tiny fists, held to her chest. She smiled up at him, still shaking her head. "I wanted to see, I really like seeing this, thank you."

"But?" Ford couldn't help but push, her smile was back but there was something unsettling about it, so almost perfect that he was even more keenly aware of the absence of her true smile.

"But..." Mabel's smile faulted, growing sad and understanding, levelling him with eyes that were far too old for her face. His heart thudded painfully, his own smile glued to his face in a semblance of normality even as he wondered just what toll this summer had had on the young girl.

She'd grown up suddenly- too suddenly. She shouldn't have needed to grow up so fast. Shouldn't be looking at him with a look that said so much and so little all at once about what was going on behind her sad shining eyes.

"....Your smile's not as bright as it used to be."

"Oh... I-" Ford sat back at the words, not having expected that as an explanation. Mabel let the book drop slightly so he could see the image, a copy of the one that he kept close to his chest at all times. That day when they had been so proud, so ready to go off on an adventure and take the world on, just the two of them.

He envied their smiles, he had for a long while. He'd envied the bond that had been broken when he had stared at it on many an occasion, wished for nothing more than his brother and his best friend back beside him once more, wished that he could go back in time and pretend again that his brother was the person he'd always thought he was.

The one who had always had his back.

But it had all gone up in smoke, everything turned on it's head that night when he'd felt so completely and utterly betrayed by the one person he never thought would hurt him. He'd envied his younger self's ignorance more than anything else, the bond before it had been torn to shreds and he'd been left doubting everything he thought he'd known.

Wherever we go, we go together!

He'd envied the lie.

And now? Now he envied that smile, that bright nostalgic moment for far different reasons though their components mounted up to the same conclusions.

Wherever we go, we go together!

Now he envied the truth.

That Stan had never meant to hurt him, not like that.

He'd told himself so many times that everything his brother had said must have been a lie, that he'd never been the person he'd grown up thinking he was, that he'd actually started to believe it himself.

Now... Now he just wanted his brother back again.

He hated that where his brother had gone, he couldn't follow.

He hated that he couldn't keep their age old promise.

But... the photo gave him far more hope than it once had.

Because maybe now, with it's help, he could bring his brother just that bit closer to being himself again.

Ford gave a soft smile, the worry that had begun to manifest as he went silent easing from Mabel's face with the expression. "A lot has happened since then, unfortunately."

Mabel nodded, understanding and reassuringly, though still sad. "Yeah, I just... wish it hadn't?"

Ford watched as Mabel's hand lightly trailed over Stan's face, soft and hesitant as if scared that by touching it, it would all vanish, and with the motion his heart sank just a little bit more.

A lot had happened since that photo was taken.

Both him and Stan had changed.

He might have lost his smile, but they had lost far more when it came to Stan. "Mabel-"

Mabel shook herself again as he spoke, hand once again pulled away quickly as she smiled up at him. It was closer, a soft sincerity to it, even if it wasn't exactly what had been expecting from her in that instant. Anything that gave her back her optimistic attitude was OK with him, however. "But! But- it's getting much better." She pointed at his face with obvious happy scrutiny. "It's already a lot brighter than it was when you first came back through the portal. And I mean, it's not surprising with all that weirdness going on that, well you know-" She gestured uselessly, frowning at her inability to word it. "But whenever Grunkle Stan remembers even a little bit more you get this big smile on your face." She nodded to herself, still appraising him, punching a fist into her other open hand. "So I bet we can have it this bright again when we get the last few of Grunkle Stan's memories back... right?"

He liked that she used the word 'when' instead of 'if'. That alone made him nod along with her, his smile soft but genuine.

"Yes, true, very true. We'll both get there."

"That's the spirit! And I bet we can get Grunkle Stan's smile just as big as well when he sees this and remembers all the great times you two had."

Ford could feel some of the tension lifting, her exuberant spirit rubbing off on him. His gaze grew more determined as he turned back to what was left of the box behind him, hands at his hips as he got himself ready for another dive into the dust cloud. "I can't argue with that. I think it's time to get back to it and see what else I can find. What do you think?"

"I think that's a great idea! Is it OK if I keep looking through what you've already found?"

"Of course it is, I always welcome your company, sweetie."

The was a strange tension to the air, it ebbed and flowed in waves across them and Ford found himself faltering, unsure as to what to do about it all.

He had dived back into his work with vigour, letting Mabel's chatter keep him focused in the present. Asking questions and pointing out bright shining photos that she thought would be the best examples to show Stan first. It had worked well, the pair of them in tandem, Mabel's presence a bright spark to keep him from sinking back into his thoughts or letting the dirt and dust get the better of him.

All this had a purpose, he could get cleaned up later, each new find an accomplishment as the pair gathered a now growing pile of assorted memories ready and waiting to be brought back to the forefront.

Each one brought a new set of questions, a gleeful chirping as Ford reminisced, arms gesturing widely with the stories he was spinning and half the time accidentally causing more cascades of boxes in the cramped quarters.

...The exuberant conversations didn't always last long though.

As soon as he went back to continue his endeavours, as soon as she thought he was zoned into his work, Mabel's voice dropped away from his peripheral. The atmosphere grew colder, quieter as she went back to staring at the book in her hands. It was like a switch flicked whenever she thought he couldn't see her, her bubbly optimism a mask that she wore to make sure he didn't worry. But he noticed, as much as she didn't want him to, he noticed as her words tapered off, caught out of the corner of his eye as her smile cracked and fell away, her eyes losing the spark of happiness he had grown to love.

And then the smile would be back full force, her words blossoming back out as she came back into the room and asked another question.

And for a while, Ford could doubt himself, could distract himself with the hope that he was just worrying too much and she was fine, that he had been seeing and feeling things. That he had projected all of his own doubts and nerves on to her and that was all it was.

For a while, the light would be back in the room, the clouds dispersed as they both distracted themselves and carried on moving forward, their little world turned ever onwards and they carried on pretending that everything was as it should be.

But then they'd run out of things to say again.

And the room would grow colder.

And Ford couldn't pretend he'd been seeing things any longer as the world went off kilter and his little star's glow grew faint and distant.

He didn't know what to do, what could he say? Was there anything that would actually help matters? He didn't want to lie to her, he didn't want to give her false hope but he didn't want to let her lose hope either.

Her hope had given them Stan back, she hadn't been able to give up on him and he'd never be able to thank her enough for what that accomplished.

He just hoped he'd be able to do the same when the time came, put together the last few pieces of his memories so that the person they all knew and loved could finally stand beside them whole again.

That didn't help him now though, not when it was Mabel that needed comforting.

He stood up from the box he'd been blindly rummaging in, biting at his lip as he wondered how to broach the subject.

And in that moment, her own words came back to him, his shoulders relaxing as an idea formed.

"Hey Sweetheart?"

"Yeah?" Mabel looked up from her spot, head tilted as she stared up at him with doleful eyes. She smiled at him, inviting him to continue but Ford could see right through the crafted expression, the light not quite reaching her eyes, even as she consciously shook away whatever it was distracting her.

"Your smile's not as bright as it used to be." Ford crouched down in front of her, face concerned and understanding as he regarded her now shocked expression. Her little face wavered, her lip wobbling as she opened her mouth and shook her head against whatever it was that was now bubbling up. He could see it, plain as day on her face, but she was still struggling so desperately to deny it, to keep on smiling, keep on pretending that everything was OK because that was what was expected. Part of him worried he was pushing but her mouth opened again as if the words wanted to flood out before she pressed her lips together in a thin line, her expression shamefaced and guilty.

She didn't want to worry him, she didn't want to say whatever it was on her mind because she was the positive one and she had to keep up the facade.

She thought she had to be strong.

That wasn't her burden to bear.

"Do you want to tell me what's troubling you?"

The words came out in a soft rumble of concern, reassuring and comforting in their warmth and in his willingness to listen. His heart broke when he saw the exact moment her willpower crumbled under the weight of it all, as if his words had opened the floodgate to all the things that had been festering away inside her without any outlet to disperse from. Her nod in return was almost lost beneath her sudden lurch forward, the book slipping from her knees as she buried herself in his chest. He fell back into a seated position, arms wrapping round her instinctively and protectively as she shook and sobbed into his shoulder, her words unable to slip through the overwhelming onslaught of emotions that had abruptly descended.

It had been a long trying time on all of them, these last few days, of course she needed a moment to let it all out.

He was only too happy to help, anything to get that smile back where it belonged.

Her proper smile, that is, not the mask of optimism she was so intensely trying to maintain.

Her smile, her bubbling attitude wouldn't just bounce back like she was trying to pretend it could but he was sure with time, with her family all around her, they could bring it back.

He shushed her firmly but gently as she hiccupped, a half mumbled apology on her lips that he refused to accept. She had nothing to apologise for. He rocked her gently from side to side, one hand running soothingly through her hair.

"It's OK. I've got you. Everything's going to be OK."

He didn't want her to pretend she was fine when she wasn't. She didn't need to apologise for needing help.

That's what he was there for.

He needed her to know that, needed her to know that they were all there for her.

He pulled her in even tighter, glad when her little arms followed suit around his neck, tightening as she burrowed further into his warm embrace as if glad for the grounding presence as she let all the emotion out.

"We'll all get there, I promise. Just you wait, I'll make sure of it."

The words became a mantra in the quiet room, a small safe bubble whilst the rest of household slept on.

"I've got you. We're all going to be OK. I promise, everything will be OK."

AN: And done. This prompt was just too good to choose who said it to who so both of them said it! ^o^