Chapter Text
To some, sleeping on a rock hard mattress in a smelly motel room in a neighborhood where gunshots were more common than cricket chirps would be seen as horribly uncomfortable. And it was. But Stanley Pines had learned years ago that comfort wasn’t a luxury he’d be blessed with. Comfort was a distant memory, smelling vaguely of warm cookies and salty air, and feeling almost like being wrapped in a blanket with another body next to yours. But those feelings had slowly faded into memories, replaced by a harsh reality of cold concrete walls and cigarette scented air.
All that was to say, he wasn’t too displeased about his current sleeping arrangement. It was better than a street corner or the trunk of his car. He was almost able to fully drift off before the harsh ringing of the phone pierced the air.
Stanley groaned, rolling over and squinting at the bright red clock on the nightstand, revealing it was just past one in the morning.
As much as he wanted to unplug the thing and go back to sleep, he knew he shouldn’t. For all he knew, it could be Demitri getting back to him about those pugs he was smuggling in from Canada. So, much to his body’s resistance, he got up, picked up the phone, and placed it to his ear.
“Hello?” He yawned, only to be met with panicked breathing from the other end of the line.
“Sta- Stanley?”
As soon as he heard that familiar voice, Stanley was wide awake. He’d know that voice anywhere.
“Stanford?” He asked in disbelief.
His brother hadn’t called, written, or spoken to him in nearly ten years now. They hadn't even seen each other since the night Pa threw him out. (And Ford had just stood there and let him without so much as a word.) And now, he just decided to call him randomly in the middle of the night. Anger boiled in his chest, and he nearly started yelling before Ford spoke again.
“Stanley, I… Oh god.” He sounded hysterical, audibly huffing and puffing into the phone like he’d just run a marathon. “L-listen, I know how mad you are at me. I know you must hate me, and you’re right for that. I just… Can you please just say something? Anything at all? I really need to hear your voice right now Stanley, please.”
When his last word broke off into a sob, Stan felt the anger suddenly drain away, replaced by some deep, protective urges he hadn’t felt in years.
“Hey, hey, calm down Stanford. I’m right here. What’s going on?”
“He- Oh god. I’m so sorry. I didn’t…. He’s gonna-” Ford’s sentence broke off into panicked breaths and sobs that Stanley recognized all too well.
“Ford. Ford. Listen to me. Take a deep breath.” He loudly inhaled, trying to coach his brother through the breathing technique they’d developed many years ago after a particularly terrible encounter with bullies left Stanford on the verge of a full blown panic attack.
He kept inhaling and exhaling loudly, waiting until he could hear Ford’s breaths stabilizing on the other end of the phone. He let him repeat the exercise several times until his voice had calmed down, although he could still be heard sobbing. Deciding that was close enough, Stan spoke again.
“Okay, now tell me what’s going on.”
“I just needed to call you. I needed… I needed to say I’m so, so sorry Stanley. I know I’ve been a terrible brother. I should have called sooner. I should have… should have…” Stanley was about to say something when Ford spoke again, his voice deathly serious this time. “Listen closely. I need you to hear me. I’m sorry for everything, Stanley. I love you so much, and I always will. I don’t care if I call you tomorrow and take it all back or say I hate you, that’s not true. I love you so much, Stanley. You’re the greatest brother I could ask for, and don’t ever forget it.”
Stan stared at the wall, mouth open, as tears started to stream down his face. He’d wanted to hear those words for so long. He's convinced himself he never would again. That the brother he’d loved had grown to hate him, or worse, forgotten him. As much as he wanted to be overjoyed at it though, something was clearly, horribly wrong.
“Ford, I love you too. I love you, but what’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“I just…. I just needed you to know before it’s too late. I don’t want you to think I died hating you.”
An ice cold chill ran down Stan’s spine. Something was very, very wrong.
“Stanford, what does that mean? What happened to you?”
“I thought I was doing something good. I thought I could trust him, but I was wrong. I was so stupid, stupid, STUPID!” There was a loud slamming as if he was hitting his head against something hard. “I let him in, Stanley. And now he won’t leave me alone. He’s in my head. He controls me. He makes me forget things, makes me hurt myself. I- I think he’s going to kill me, Stanley.”
Stan jumped out of the bed, clutching the phone tightly with both hands. He’d never heard Stanford sound this scared in his life. Not even when Pa came home drunk and the two of them hid under their beds, cowering. This was something else. The kind of fear Stan had felt the first time he’d been held at gunpoint. And hearing that kind of fear in his big smart brother that he’d always thought was so brave was somehow even scarier.
“Ford-”
“Oh god, Stanley, please. I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die, please. Please, I’m so scared. He’s going to kill me.”
“Stanford. Listen to me closely.” Stan forced his voice not to show how scared he was. His brother needed him. “Where are you right now?”
“I’m so scared. Please, I’m not ready to die, but he won’t- Please help me, Stanley. Please.”
“Sixer. I’m gonna help you, but first I need you to tell me where you are.”
There were a few seconds of silence, filled only by muffled crying, before Ford spoke in such a weak voice: “Gravity Falls. Gravity Falls, Oregon.”
“Okay, hold tight. I’ll be there soon.”
“You… you’ll… Wait, NO! NO! STANLEY DON’T! DON’T COME HERE!” He was now screaming into the phone. “STAY AWAY STANLEY! HE’LL KILL YOU! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT HE’S CAPABLE OF! DON’T!”
“Staford, calm down! Stanford!” He pleaded into the phone, but Ford was clearly spiraling into an anxiety attack over this ‘Him'.
“Oh, god. He's here. I can hear him. Stanley, I love you. I’m sorry. Stay away from Gravity Falls! Stay away from-”
The end of his sentence was abruptly cut off by a tone as the line went dead. Stan stood there, rigid for a moment, before dropping the device on the ground and sprinting outside to his car, the sounds of his brother’s fearful sobbing and terrified screaming echoing in his ears the whole time.