Chapter Text
‘Whadda ya want?’ Fiddleford peered around the corner of his front door.
Stan hesitated. Yeah, what did he want? It was late at night, and he was surprised the guy had still been up.
‘I need, uh…’ He sighed. ‘I think something’s wrong with Ford.’ He looked down at his feet. His red sneakers were threadbare, his soles almost entirely worn through. He felt like they weren’t much use in this cold weather and wondered for a moment why he even bothered wearing them. He could hear the door closing and hatches unhatching. Still, he didn’t dare to look up yet. Maybe the guy didn’t want to help him. Maybe he wasn’t opening the door, just making sure there was no way Stan could enter his house. After a moment of silence, he almost expected the curtains to be drawn before the windows.
A soft click made him look up. Through the opened door he could see Fiddleford putting on a thick coat as he headed outside.
‘What’s wrong?’ the man asked, concerned, his brows furrowed.
Well... Where to start? A lot had happened in such a short period of time. He didn't want to share any of it. ‘He…’ He cleared his throat. ‘He asked me to tie him to a chair.’
Fiddleford nodded, as if that was the most normal thing in the world.
‘And just a little while later, he begged me to untie him. He didn’t seem… quite right.’
A deep frown. ‘Did he… seem like himself?’ he asked as he started towards El Diablo.
Stan hesitated. Did he? He didn’t know. It had been ten years since he’d last seen his brother. Everything had been different then, especially considering the week he was having. Ford seemed like a total stranger.
‘I don’t know,’ he said eventually. ‘I hoped you could tell me.’
—
They stood in silence as they looked at Ford, his body slumped in the chair, breathing deeply.
Fiddleford chewed his lip.
‘So…’ Stan said after a while, fumbling with this lighter. ‘What do you make of this?’
It took a moment for Fiddleford to reply. ‘I think…' He sighed. 'I think we need to leave him like this for a bit. I was terribibly worried when I saw him the other day. He looks like he needs some sleep.’
‘All tied up?’
'Uhuh.'
They stood there for a moment, both lost in thoughts.
‘We’ll need ta fix up his wrists, though,’ Fiddleford said after a while. ‘They don’t look too good.’
Stan nodded.
‘Could ya untie one of his arms? Just the one, please. We don’t want him runnin’ around if he wakes up.’ Fiddleford walked into the kitchen and came back seconds later with a big med kit.
Stan started loosening one of his brother’s arms while keeping a close eye on him. He looked utterly exhausted. He had never seen such dark circles, not even on himself. And he knew how to pull an all-nighter all too well…
With practiced hands, Stan cleaned up the blood as Fiddleford wrapped his wrist in gauze. Ford flinched but didn’t seem to wake up.
‘So… You know why he’s been...' He waved his hand at Ford. '...Like this?' He had been reluctant to ask, afraid of what the answer would be. He started retying the rope, after which he loosened the other wrist.
'He, uh... I guess he... Sometimes he...' Fiddleford looked out the window, a pained look on his face. 'Sometimes, he’s not himself. Hasn’t been for a long time.’
Stan shot him a worried look.
'I dunno why.'
'When did this sta-'
Fiddleford let Ford's wrist fall down. 'Look, I'm sorry. I feel like I should know, but I just… don’t. My, eh… my memory is not as good as it used to be.’
Stan wanted to say something. Maybe even reassure the guy (since when did he become a softie? Really Stan, pull yourself together!). Instead, he picked up Ford's arm and tied it to the chair again. He felt the other man eyeing his beat-up knuckles.
‘Do ya need some, as well?’
Stan grunted and shoved his hands in his pockets.
‘I’ll take that as a no, then. Just know that the med kit is under the kitchen sink.’
Fiddleford closed the lid and went back to the kitchen. Stan took a moment to look at their work. Was he just imagining things, or did his brother look a bit more peaceful than he had before? If you could even call this peaceful, all tied down to a chair.
Stan shrugged and headed outside. The icy wind blew snowflakes into his tangled hair. He was glad that he could sleep inside a real house, for once. He’d spent a couple of rough winters in El Diablo, shivering under stolen blankets, hoping to wake up again the next morning. He put a cigarette between his lips as he heard shuffling by the door. Next to him, Fiddleford rested his arms on the porch’s railing.
‘Want one?’ Stan offered.
‘Sure.’
He offered the hippy his pack and lit both their cigarettes. Stan took a long drag.
‘How do you know Ford?’ he asked.
Fiddleford looked into the distance, eyes all glassy.
‘We met in college,’ he said, eventually. ‘We were roommates. On the first day, we discovered that we shared a passion for the weird, the unexplained. And math. Science in general.’
Stan huffed, slightly amused. ‘Nerds.’
Fiddleford smiled. ‘Yeah, we were. And still are, I s’pose. We shared a dorm, graduated college early. He went on to get his PhDs, and I moved to Palo Alto. Then, one day, not too long after, he called me. He’d built this house as a research facility and wanted me as his assistant. I couldn’t say no to my best buddy, so… eh, here I was.’
Stan nodded. ‘But you haven’t spoken in some time?’
‘Yeah… Things became… difficult…’ Fiddleford’s voice trailed off as he stared into the woods. Then, he turned to Stan. ‘What about you? Where have you been hidin’?’
Stan's stomach turned. It was meant as a joke, he knew, but hiding was all he’d done in the last ten years. ‘Oh you know,’ he said airily, ‘doin’ this and that. Seeing the world, having adventures.’
‘And college?’
‘Heh, no. Ford was the smart twin; I’m just a high school dropout.’
Fiddleford frowned. ‘Why did you-’
Stan sighed. Why did this man care so much? He’d only known him for a day or so, and even then he’d been tied to his chair.
‘I wrecked Ford’s science experiment. My dad kicked me out, and that’s the end of that.’ He pressed his cigarette butt on the railing and flicked it into the snow. Then, he turned around and walked back inside, almost hoping that Ford would have woken up.