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viceroywrites · 1 month ago

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deja vu - part six (ford route)

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader / ford x fem!reader

choose your own adventure / contains fluff and angst (w/ happy ending)

part five | part seven

interested in stan's route? click here for the masterlist

Gdl Gzkvh. Gdl Yilgsvih. Gsv gzkvh nzb wruuvi yfg ivtziwovhh, gsv gifgs droo yv ivevzovw.

With the car all packed up, you slide into the passenger side of the car, expecting Stan to take over the wheel like he did yesterday.

To your surprise, Ford slips into the driver’s seat.

“I thought you don’t usually drive?” You question.

“Well, Stanley wanted to catch up on some sleep still on the drive back so I offered.” Ford explains, the well-crafted lie flowing off his tongue as he buckles his seatbelt.

In reality, he asked Stan if he could drive instead for the opportunity to spend more quality time with you, being met with a thinly veiled threat if Ford scratched or dented the El Diablo while being handed the keys.

The drive back to the Mystery Shack was quite peaceful.

You rolled down the window a few inches, taking in the lush green scenery as the breeze hit your face, during the smooth drive. Ford glances in the rear view mirror, seeing Stan actually asleep, Dipper having his head buried in a book while Mabel looks through the photos she took on the camping trip, both of them having a pair of earbuds in, blasting their own respective music.

“Hey, Y/N, mind opening the glove compartment? Apparently that’s where Stan keeps his CDs.” Ford asks, hoping to fill the silence to drown out his brother’s snores.

You nod, reaching forward to open the glove box and pulling out the CD case underneath all the miscellaneous papers, scratched out lottery cards and… where those fake IDs? You decide to ignore it for now, grabbing the dusty case and thumbing through Stan’s collection.

“Anything catching your eye?” Ford asks after a notable amount of time of you still looking through the CDs.

“Hmm, nothing yet. Your brother really likes disco and jazz… as well as strangely enough, Icelandic pop music.” You hum, pulling out a BABBA CD.

“That actually might be mine.” Ford admits, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m guessing you don’t remember that BABBA is one of my favorite groups.”

You glance between the CD and Ford, expecting the intellectual man before you to be listening to Holst, Chopin, Tchaikovsky or perhaps even Eurythmics.

“You listen to Icelandic pop group, BABBA?” You parrot the information back to Ford who simply nods in response, “I have every lyric memorized.”

“Prove it then.” You say, almost challenging him as you slide the disc into the car radio.

Ford takes on your challenge, singing along to the lyrics albeit slightly out of tune in his deep voice. You can’t help the wide grin that spreads across your cheeks, laughing as Ford’s attempts to hit the high notes of Disco Girl.

Mabel looks up from her camera after sorting through the photos to see the two of you smiling at one another as you both sing along. She quickly turns off her flash, learning her lesson from this morning and takes a quick photo before nudging her brother.

Dipper looks at his sister with slight annoyance as she breaks his concentration, but as he looks over you and Ford, he can’t help but smile at the sight of his great uncle happy.

However, he pauses, realizing the words Ford is singing through skilled lip-reading and he rips out his earbuds to confirm what he sees.

“Great Uncle Ford, you listen to BABBA too?!”

You both look back in alarm, Ford’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment before you giggle, reaching over to poke his cheek, “Guess a love of BABBA runs in the family.” - After arriving back at the Mystery Shack and getting some much needed rest via a much needed long nap, you emerge from your room, letting out a yawn. The sun shone through the triangle shaped window, its golden orange hue signaling that it was mid-day. Your feet carrying you to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee in preparation of the night to come.

The scent of coffee hits your nostrils, catching you off guard. It appears that someone in the Pines family had a similar idea.

Expecting either Stan or Ford to be around the corner, you’re even more surprised to see Dipper standing on top of a stool, drumming his fingers against the wood of the cabinets as he waits for the coffee to finish brewing.

“Didn’t realize you drank coffee, Dipper?” You commented, walking into the kitchen to make your presence known.

“Oh hey Y/N, how was your nap?” Dipper asks. A 38-sided die that shines in Dipper’s hand catches your attention before you turn it back to him.

“It was good, much needed.” You chuckle, “Mind if I pour myself a cup of coffee myself from the pot you’re brewing?”

“Oh…” Dipper looks down at the entire pot of coffee before looking up sheepishly, “I don’t actually drink coffee, Y/N. This is for Great Uncle Ford actually. We were in the middle of a Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons game and he asked me to make him a pot to prepare for tonight.”

“The entire pot?”

“Yup.”

Somehow, this sounded like a habit that Ford developed in college from the memories you could recall of all the all-nighters you pulled with him.

“Mind if I join you downstairs to see if he’d at least let me have one cup?” You ask, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard for Ford and you.

“Sure, do you wanna join our game of Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons?” Dipper says excitedly.

“I honestly can’t say I’ve ever played it…” Dipper’s expression slightly drops, deflating a bit, “But I’d love to watch and see if I can get the hang of it to join maybe another time.” You admit, anticipating a very complex game system based on the 38-sided die.

“Trust me, it’s not that complicated once you get past the initial mechanics!” Dipper attempts to reassure you, guiding you to a part of the Mystery Shack that was starting to become eerily familiar the moment Dipper pushed aside the vending machine to reveal a set of stairs that descend down to the basement.

The basement that Ford would be holed up in night after night working on the portal.

The basement that was the setting of your nightmare last night.

You freeze at the top of the steps, a lump in your throat. Dipper realizes that you are no longer right behind him midway down the steps. He looks up at you in confusion, carefully holding the coffee pot in his hands. “Is everything okay, Y/N?”

You almost drop the coffee mugs in your hands until Dipper’s voice snaps you out of your daze. “Y-yeah, just spaced out for a second.” Taking a deep inhale through your nostrils, you start walking down the stairs, meeting up with Dipper as you both descend the stairs together.

“Great Uncle Ford told me that you, Grunkle Stan, and him are going to the Museum of History tonight to hopefully find your memories.” Dipper mentions.

You stare down at him in surprise, wondering what else Ford has told him, “Did your Grunkle Ford mention anything else?”

“No, just that Mabel and I can’t tag along… we were hoping we’d be able to help you out.” Dipper explains, “We discovered where the memories of the citizens of Gravity Falls were kept last summer… we helped Old Man McGucket get his memories back.”

Despite your perplexity surrounding how two thirteen-year olds managed to help your old friend gain his memories back, you can’t help but feel flattered at Dipper’s offer to assist, “Well I appreciate you and your sister wanting to help me even though we just met a few days ago.”

Your hand reaches down to fix the lumberjack hat that was starting to tilt down to cover Dipper’s eyes, and Dipper gives you a gratuitous smile, “You mean a lot to Great Uncle Ford so of course, we wanna help.”

Speaking of Ford, his voice calls out to Dipper, his face buried in the newest edition of the Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons rule book, “Dipper, come quickly! It looks like they brought back the Imposibeast but with a much better probability of defeating him!”

Dipper quickly dashes down the last few steps, and you follow behind him in amusement, “No way! I thought there was no way they were gonna bring him back when I saw the theories about it online.”

Ford looks up from the book, caught off guard as he sees you trailing behind Dipper who places the coffee pot on the desk and eagerly snatches it from his great uncle’s hands to take a look, “Y/N, I thought you were resting. We have a long night ahead of us.”

“Look, who’s talking.” You counter with a grin, placing the mugs down onto the desk. You glance down at it, having a brief flashback of the small of your back pressed up against the cool metal surface in your dream. Ford notices it immediately, standing up suddenly and placing a hand on your shoulder, “Are you sure you’re okay being down here?” He asks in a hushed tone, glancing over his shoulder to see Dipper still preoccupied.

You nod, placing your own hand on top of Ford’s and squeezing it gently, “I’ll be okay. I came down here to ask if I could have at least a cup of coffee from the pot.”

Your gaze flickers over to the two mugs, “Dipper mentioned you were gonna have the whole pot to yourself.”

Ford’s cheeks flush in embarrassment, reaching over to pour you a cup before pouring himself his own, “Yes, of course. I… uh… picked up the habit unfortunately during our college days.”

“I figured,” You grin at his flustered expression, finding it endearing. You take the warm mug from Ford’s hand, “Though it also wouldn’t surprise me if you were able to get through those all nighters through sheer will-power and a thirst of knowledge alone.”

Ford shakes his head, a deep chuckle escaping his lips, “Unfortunately, I have a human body that has its limitations of needing food, water and sleep to function properly. Though I always tried to test those limits.”

“Are you ready to play again, Great Uncle Ford?” Dipper asks, looking up from the rule book, “I wanna get a bit further along in the campaign we started a few weeks ago.”

“Of course, my boy.” Ford replies, taking a seat back on the floor. To his surprise, you join them on the floor, sitting between him and Dipper. “You don’t have to join us, Y/N.” There was a slight tinge of guilt in Ford’s voice, hoping you didn’t feel obligated to stay, especially knowing that you just had a nightmare within the confines of this basement.

You shake your head, “I already promised Dipper I’d stay and watch. Besides, it's better than trying to convince Stan to give up the TV. I passed him on the way to the kitchen and he’s glued to his seat, watching some historical drama.”

Dipper and Ford look at each other knowingly.

Stan was on another The Duchess Approves binge.

“Well, where did we leave off? Ah, yes! You enter the cave, lulled in by the soothing, melodic tones of a sweet song. But it’s a trap!” Ford begins to spin a tale, twirling the 38-sided die between his fingers with skill.

You watch in amusement for the next few hours, seeing the two excitedly play the game before you while you take sips from your coffee and refill Ford’s mug throughout their campaign.

While Dipper is taking his turn, Ford can’t help but relish in this moment, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of you watching intently when Dipper rolls his die, giving him a high five when he rolls a perfect 38.

Truth be told, this was a reflection of the life he had hoped you two would have at one point. Playing DDNMD with what Ford thought would be your child together.

He hoped that tonight would bring him as close to that dream as he could get after losing decades with you. - The hours flew by quickly, almost losing track of time if it weren’t for Stan descending down the stairs and telling the three of you that it was almost 10 PM.

You quickly rushed up to your room, a thankfully roomy storage room inside the Mystery Shack, to get ready. After a quick shower and changing into an all-black outfit to aid in your stealth for tonight’s journey, your fingers ran over the ink of your journal, looking through the pages of the dreams you had cataloged over the past twenty plus years.

Tonight was hopefully the night you would uncover the meaning behind them.

Slipping the journal into your black fanny pack that you are thankful you packed, you close the door of your room behind you, decked in all black attire. You pass by the living room on your way outside, seeing the peaceful scene of the twins watching Duck-tective with Soos and Melody in the living room before making your way to the front door of the Mystery Shack.

As you step out into the cool summer night, you see Stan and Ford already standing outside, their deep voices bickering. Both wearing all black attire with gloves. They practically matched aside from some clear stylistic differences in their tops - Ford wearing a black turtleneck and trench coat and Stan wearing a black t-shirt and black leather jacket.

“Am I interrupting something?” Your voice cuts through as you approach, causing the two to whip their heads around and fall quiet out of embarrassment.

“I was just telling Stanley that it would be much easier if we just bring a pair of bolt cutters, that should be enough to just cut off the lock.” Ford argues, holding up the bolt cutters.

“When you’re breaking and entering, you want to bring as little equipment as possible - otherwise, you might leave evidence at the scene!” Stan counters.

“Well, let’s ask Y/N what she thinks!” Ford says with an already triumphant tone to his voice, his hands on his hips, confident that you will take his side. The two look at you expectantly, seeking an answer to their argument.

Jeez, you wondered how these two resolved issues when it was just the two of them on a boat in the middle of the ocean.

“You did ask him to come along for his lock-picking skills, Ford.” You point out hesitantly to which Stan triumphantly pumps his arm in the air before exclaiming, “In your face, Poindexter!”

Ford sighs, about to protest, but one look from your eyes had his frustration melting away. He finally concedes, “Alright, I’ll put back the bolt cutters then.��

The three of you pile into El Diablo, the twins sitting in the front and you sitting in the back. The rest of the drive to the museum goes smoothly for the most part aside from the twins’ usual bickering and bantering.

After you arrive in front of the museum, Stan steps out to scope the area. You take this opportunity to pull out your journal, skimming through it. Ford can’t help his innate curiosity from piquing, “Is there a particular dream you’re hoping to get clarity on tonight?” You pause at the question, not answering right away before your fingers turn through the pages before landing on one page. You passed the journal over to Ford, and he took it from your hands, staring down at a symbol that Ford was familiar with.

The Cloaked Figure.

An X through an all-seeing eye.

The symbol of the Society of the Blind Eye.

“In what context does this symbol come up in dreams?” Ford asks. He knows that the only context that you probably have of this image is when your mind was erased.

“I’ve seen flashes of it here and there… The main dream I have with it involves a cloaked figure standing above me, it’s on their hood.” You share, seeing Ford’s expression turn ashen. You started to get concerned at his reaction, “Is everything okay? Do you know what this symbol means?”

Before Ford can respond, Stanley interrupts the two of you, “Hey, the coast is clear.” Ford swiftly changes the subject, slipping out of the car, “We should get going then, time is of the essence.”

You can’t help but feel slightly annoyed at Ford’s avoidance of the topic. You take a deep breath to collect yourself before following behind the twins, hoping that tonight would give you the answer if Ford wouldn’t.

You’re not sure whether to be concerned or impressed by Stan’s vast knowledge of lock-picking, but you’re grateful for it the moment the padlock comes loose, dropping onto Stan’s hand. “Great work, Stanley, that went much quicker than I had anticipated.” Ford says, pulling a flashlight to illuminate the dark museum as the three of you slip inside, shutting the door behind you.

Making your way through the museum, the figures and masks that adorn the walls and space looking creepier in the dim lighting, Ford searches for the room full of eyes that Dipper had mentioned to him during their encounter with the Society of the Blind Eye. “Hey Ford, Dipper mentioned to me that Mabel and him found Fiddleford’s memories down here. How did they even end up here?” You ask.

“Would you believe me if I were to tell you that Fiddleford started a cult?” Ford lets out a dry chuckle at the statement, glancing over his shoulder to see your look of disbelief. “You’re gonna need to elaborate on that one, Sixer.” Stan pointed out. “Honestly, at this point, I would have believed you if you told me that you and Stan were actually clones more than that.” You scoff, causing the brothers to laugh.

“When Fiddleford first invented the memory gun, I had warned him about the potential risks it could pose if it fell into the wrong hands. Unbeknownst to me, Fiddleford continued to use it to deal with his anxiety. After…” Ford paused, clearing his throat of the nervous lump that got stuck, “After the two of you left, Fiddleford created what he called the Society of the Blind Eye. Its sole purpose was to help the people of Gravity Falls cope with the weirdness they witnessed on a daily basis by forgetting. Below this museum is where they would erase their minds and store the memories after.”

You stop in your tracks, your brain seemingly buffering. Just when you thought things couldn't get stranger, there was always something that caught you off guard.

“Excuse me, one second.” You announce, walking away from Stan and Ford into another exhibit away from them.

Ford looks at Stan in confusion before both of them jump at the sound of you exclaiming.

“What the hell?!”

You walked back into the room, letting out a sigh after getting that out of your system, “Alright, let’s keep moving.”

Ford and Stan look at each other and Stan pats Ford’s shoulder sympathetically, “Better get used to that, I have a feeling that’s gonna happen a lot tonight.” - After following Stan and Ford down a pole that Ford had insisted lead to where the memories were stored, your eyes widened, taking in the sight of a room full of capsules with different names laid across the floor, and a statue of a figure in a cloak at the center of the room.

“Jeez, how many minds did that old hillbilly erase?” Stan comments, kicking aside a capsule that rolls across the floor.

“I highly doubt this was all Fiddleford’s doing. Apparently, when his mind was gone after multiple uses of the memory gun, someone took up his mantle and took the job quite seriously by the looks of it.” Ford crouched down to survey the different names on the gold tubes

“Well… where do we start?” You ask, still dumbfounded at the sheer amount of memories that seemed to have been erased.

Ford glances around the spacious room before giving an answer, “Divide and conquer is likely the best strategy. I’ll take this area over here. Stan, could you take the area on the other side of the room? Y/N, you can check the capsules that are next to that statue.”

With the directions given, the three of you split up, the sound of metal clanking against the floor with each tube tossed to the side amidst the sorting. Each new name that you read causes a pit in your stomach to form, becoming more and more hopeless about the possibility that your name would be found amongst the massive pile. Part of you wonders how many hours, days, potentially years of memories of people’s lives are lost within this room.

The hours spent searching drag along, time standing still underneath the museum. “How long have we been down here for?” Stan asks, making it halfway through a pile in the far corner of the room. Ford pulls back his sleeve to reveal a calculator watch the twins had gifted him for his birthday, “Approximately two hours, eight minutes, thirty-one seconds.”

“Should we just call it? There’s still a good chunk of the room left to sort through. We’ve already lost sleep over this.” You sigh, tossing another tube to the side.

Ford looks up from his own pile of capsules, seeing the defeated expression upon your face. He gets up and takes a seat next to you, “Listen, I didn’t drink a whole pot of coffee for us to give up halfway through the night. I’m ready to forge onward if that’s what you want but if you would like to call it, we absolutely can.”

Your eyes flick to Stan who gives a noncommittal shrug, “I’ve got the energy to keep going. I’m caught up on all my sleep during the day.”

“Alright… let’s keep going.” You say to Ford, giving him and Stan the green light to continue sorting through the piles. Ford decided to stick closer to you for a bit, helping you sort through the capsules at a much quicker pace before moving back to the other side of the room.

Reaching the end of his pile, Ford grabs the last capsule, turning it over. His eyes widened.

‘No, this can’t be…’ Ford thinks to himself.

Before he can process what he had seen, your voice cries out excitedly, “I found it!” In your hand, you hold up a capsule that reads ‘Y/N L/N Memories’

Ford’s mouth hangs open, ready to speak up. Seeing the look of relief and elation on your face, he decides against it. He puts the golden capsule in his hand into his deep trench coat pocket and rushes over to your side of the room at your announcement, “My god, it actually is here. I was starting to worry that my theory that it may be here was completely off base.” He mutters.

The two of you look down at the capsule and back up at each other. Your eyes are full of uncertainty, and his full of regret. Ford places his hand atop yours, both of you holding onto this small object that contains your memories of the man before you.

“I’m not sure what lies ahead in these memories… but words cannot express how truly sorry I am for everything that unravels moving forward.” Ford sighs, “I know you may not want comfort from the person who hurt you deeply, but if you need any clarity in what you see, I will give you those answers.”

You look down at the capsule before letting out a sigh, “Here goes nothing.”

Your hands place the capsule inside the holder, the screen flickering on the moment that it is inserted. You sit on the floor, knowing you’re in for a long viewing. Ford and Stan follow suit, sitting behind you as to go give you space.

Memories flicker onto the screen like a tape, playing back every single interaction you had with Ford.

Your first meeting in the library.

All-nighters you pulled together.

Reading under the trees in the quad, Ford’s head on your lap.

Tender kisses exchanged, his six fingers intertwined with yours, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Ford carrying you on his back as you wear your graduation attire.

Ford watches on with a bittersweet smile. It had been so long since he had reminisced on these times so to see them so clearly laid out in front of him was comforting. He wonders how he ever let this go, how he let his need to be accepted by people who only sought to use him push away this wonderful person who accepted him in and out - you.

The memories from college that were still quite murky were becoming crystal clear, everything unraveling in front of you. You could almost feel the feelings of affection towards Ford come back, the butterflies in your stomach stirring.

They suddenly drop at the sight of an offer letter to the National Parks in your hands.

You were about to knock on Ford’s door before he suddenly burst out, grabbing you and spinning you around in excitement. “Ford, put me down! What’s with all the commotion?” You chuckle, still clutching the letter in your hand.

“Y/N, my grant proposal got accepted!” Ford shared the news excitedly. Your eyes widened, and you embraced him in response, “That’s amazing, Ford! I-” Ford cuts you off, “I’ve decided that I want to study anomalies, the oddities of the world like myself… There's a sleepy town in Oregon that is a hot spot for them!”

“Oregon…? That’s so far away from here… but I suppose we could do long distance while you’re doing your research.” You mutter, clutching the paper in your hands tighter.

“Well… we don’t have to.” Ford pauses, holding you by the shoulders, “I would love for you to accompany me on this journey. Oregon is chalk full of geological findings, I’m sure you could find work out there.”

“Right…” You trail off. You had to make a decision right here and now - pursue your dream job or follow the man that you loved to support him. You knew if you shared the news with Ford, he would insist on you taking the job.

“Is everything alright, my star?” Ford asks with a furrowed brow, seeing the conflicted look in your eyes.

“Yes… I’d love to join you in Oregon.” You say, crumpling up the offer letter.

Ford watches in awe, guilt washing over him. He was not aware that you had been offered your dream job right after finishing school. What was always a joyful memory from his perspective was a choice he unknowingly forced you to make - him or your dreams. He wonders in his excitement that he took away that moment for you to shine.

“Y/N, I’m so-” Ford is about to apologize but you look back at him, shaking your head.

“Not yet, Ford. Please save any apologies for now… we still have a ways to go.” You sigh, turning back to the screen.

Ford nods in understanding, looking up to see your drive up to Gravity Falls and him gifting you the sunstone. Seeing it shine just as brightly as you did underneath the sun.

Your first year in Gravity Falls flies by, showing your adventures with Ford hunting anomalies, several nights of attempting to get Ford to go to bed at a reasonable time that seemed routine, and Fiddleford’s arrival to help with the portal. S hortly after a clip of you, Fiddleford and Ford building a snowman in the front yard of the Mystery Shack, the beginning of your dream from the night prior plays on screen. Ford’s figure whips around revealing those vibrant yellow eyes and face-splitting grin characteristic of Bill’s possession.

“Y/N, maybe we should take a break. We can always skip over this.” Ford says in concern, seeing your shoulders tense up.

“No, let’s keep going.” You reply with a tightness in your throat.

“Kid, my brother has a point, you don’t have to sit through this another time. You already have this memory back.” Stan tries to interject, knowing from first hand experience how difficult it was for him to see his memories be played back before his eyes when he and Ford were reviewing the home videos from their childhood.

“It’s going to be painful. I know that. I know what I’m getting myself into.” You snap at the two before looking over at Ford, “Please… just let me keep going.”

Stan and Ford look at each other before backing off, allowing you to continue watching the memories that play out in front of you.

You wince as the screen plays out your nightmare before your eyes. Your hand clutches your necklace tight to your chest, almost wanting to rip it off as it feels constricting, your breath picking up in pace. Your body was stuck in freeze, unable to fight or fly your way out of the scene before you.

Ford watches the screen helplessly, watching Bill use his body like a puppet. Anger and sadness washes over him, wanting nothing more than to comfort you, but worrying that it may only make things worse. A war wages in Ford’s mind, wondering whether he should just bite the bullet and give you some form of comfort.

Just as a panic attack was starting to settle in, you felt the weight of Ford’s body pressed behind you. His arms wrap around you, embracing you from behind and helping to ground you. “Breathe, Y/N. You’re safe, Bill can’t harm you any longer. I’m sorry for letting him hurt you.”

You try to follow Ford’s gentle reminder to breathe. Your lungs expand, taking that first initial deep breath in. When you try to exhale, it comes out as a soft sob. You find Ford’s hand resting on the back of your head, pulling you into his chest. Shielding you from the sight as he watches Bill stand over you with a mocking grin, distorting Ford’s features in a way that almost looks like a caricature.

When the scene finally passes, Ford instructs Stan to pause the video. Ford continues to hold onto you tightly, almost as if you were going to slip through his fingertips. You peer up from Ford’s chest, flustered after calming down at how close you two are, “Um… Ford.”

Ford looks down at you, his thumb out of habit brushing away a tear that had formed at the edge of your eyes, “Yes?” You curse in your head, feeling those butterflies in your stomach pick back up at his affectionate gesture. You clear your throat, “You can let go now, Ford. I’m okay now.”

It dawns on Ford that he was practically squeezing you against his chest, and he quickly let go of his hold on you, “M-My apologies if I was too forward with providing comfort, you may not have been ready and I could have potentially made things worse-” You silence his apologies, pressing your finger to his lips, “Ford, it’s okay… thanks for helping me stay grounded.”

This action flusters Ford even more, his cheeks turning as red as his usual sweater. “O-Of course! Let’s take a break, I’m going to investigate if there is a way to take the memory display with us at the end of the night.” Ford quickly gets up from his spot next to you, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You look around the room, trying to distract yourself from the image of Bill’s hand around your throat that still lingers at the forefront of your thoughts. Your mind is still racing at a million miles an hour, blurry images in your subconscious slowly coming into focus. Your shaky gaze ends up landing on the statue that towers before you, staring at the daunting symbol of the Society of the Blind Eye.

An X through an all-seeing eye.

Your pupils dilate as the symbol suddenly conjures up a memory that was shoved deep in the back of your head.

The symbol glaring back at you, etched atop a red hood that cloaked its wearer’s face. Staring down the barrel…. though it was more like a bulb… of the memory gun.

The cloaked figure’s hand trembling, the finger on the trigger slipping off every time it tries to pull it.

The constant shaking causes the hood to fall out of place, revealing the holder of the Memory Gun to be Fiddleford before a flash of light clouds your vision.

The sleep deprivation over the past few nights mixed with the overwhelm of all these memories flooding back, caused your body to begin to slump over, your vision blurring and making the room hazy.

‘Y/N!’

One pair of hands keep you up right to prevent you from falling over, while the other cups your cheeks, slapping them lightly to knock you out of your stupor.

“Come on, stay with me, Y/N.” Ford’s voice rasps. Feeling six fingers against your skin tells you that Ford is the one in front of you holding your face.

Your eyes flutter open to see Ford staring back at you with concern, “What did you see, Y/N?” Ford asks, having a gut feeling that another memory had resurfaced.

“I-It was Fiddleford… he was standing over me, pointing what looked like a gun at me. He had on that cloak.” You explained to the best of your ability the details of your flashback, pointing to the statue.

Ford’s expression turned grim, “Maybe it would be wise to end the evening here, we can pick back up where we left off tomorrow.” This was a memory that Ford had no part in, but felt an enormous sense of guilt over, “I… wasn’t there for that memory so perhaps we should give Fiddleford a call tomorrow.”

“Wait… I’m okay… please, let’s keep going.” You say shakily, your hand grasping his forearm. After that memory resurfaced of Fiddleford, you’re now more than ever desperate for answers. Desperate to make sense of the voices ringing in your head.

‘I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone!’

‘Stop being a distraction.’

‘You’re useless.’

‘I thought you of all people would understand what I’m up against!’

You knew at least one of them had to be Ford, and your mind was tired of playing a game of constant tug of war - leaning into those feelings of affection that were rising to the surface again or keeping your guard up due to the implied pain Ford had caused you all those years ago.

“Y/N, you almost fainted. I fear that if we continue onward, the amount of memories resurfacing may be too much for your subconscious to handle, causing a physical toll on you. Similar things occurred to Stanley when he was gaining his memories back.” Ford attempted to rationalize with you, looking to his brother for back-up.

“Kid, I usually don’t agree with my brother, but he has a point. I know we didn’t get that far but you gotta pace yourself. Otherwise, you’re not gonna have any energy for tomorrow to keep getting those memories back.” Stan chimes in.

Both brothers both had points that you couldn’t argue against - you were on a tight schedule and any days spent purely on recuperating from the overwhelm would be a day wasted. You also did get back the memory you wanted to understand the most - albeit with no context. You let out a sigh of surrender, “Ford, did you figure out if we can take the monitor with us?”

Ford blinks at your sudden question before nodding vigorously, “Yes, thankfully Fiddleford created it with portable capabilities from the looks of it.”

“Alright then, we can call it for tonight. You and I will have to make use of as much time as we have left so expect to be up early tomorrow, Ford.” You say, already concocting a schedule in your head, “Stan, thanks for tagging along tonight to help us break-in.”

“No problem! Glad I could put these skills to use again,” Stan says with a sense of pride.

A sense of relief rushes over Ford as you agree to end here for the evening. “Stanley, could you go and pull the car up so we can get the monitor out of here smoothly? Y/N, you can go with my brother to get some fresh air.”

You go along with the plan, ready to leave the eerie former meeting place of the Society of Blind Eye behind you as you follow Stan outside.

Ford is thankful that tonight went relatively smoothly, grabbing the monitor and picking it up with ease. He pulls the capsule out of the slot, moving to place it into his trench coat pocket.

Any sense of relief that Ford had felt quickly dissipates, dread flooding his system as he remembers the unknown contents of the capsule that he had found earlier.

‘Y/N L/N Memories 2.’

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