Chapter Text
Ford winced from the pounding pain on the back of his head. Along with the loud ringing in his ears. He really should have expected this, the fall out of being put as a show for Bill and his partygoers. No, he didn't have time to think about that. He had more important things to focus on.
Which reminded him. His eyes lingered over to where Mabel and Dipper sat on Stans's lap. He was surprised the rickety old armchair they were sitting on had not fallen apart. He remembered finding that chair at a sale for five bucks.
He watched Dipper and Mabel who were pointing at several pictures in the scrapbook, then telling the story behind them with vigorous motions. Stan almost got hit a couple of times but he didn't seem to mind, in fact, he had a fond smile on his face. The handyman (Soos?) was behind the chair grinning ear to ear and adding little facts the twins had left out, whether on accident or purpose. The girl to the side of him (Wendy?) had a smirk on her face when the twins pulled her into answering questions.
He smiled softly at the scene which was only slightly overshadowed by a mix of fear, and pure exhaustion. He wished he could turn off his mind for at least a minute, just to recuperate. Instead he got hit by a wave of dizziness that almost forced him to his knees. His hand stretched to the nearest wall to hold himself steady.
“Grunkle Ford, are you ok?” Mabel’s voice came from the yellow armchair.
Despite the fact his heart was deciding to jump around like he was in the Bounce Dimension he managed to say “Just fine Mabel.”
He waved his arm, but almost immediately regretted the action when his sweater rubbed against the burn on his wrist. The pain shot through his body like lightning. He tried smoothing the wince from his face, but Wendy’s (?) quizzical look told him he did a poor job.
“Are you sure man? You’re looking kinda pale.”
He opened his mouth once again to speak but quickly shut it when another dizzying wave passed through him.
Instead, he gave a quick thumbs up and smiled hoping it would ease whatever tension was created. It didn’t work. Instead, worry creased Dippers and Mabel’s faces.
“What’s up with him?” Stan asked gruffly.
“I’m fine. Continue with what you were doing I’ll be back in a moment.”
The rest turned back to the book with unsure eyes. In his best attempt at looking healthy he straightened his back and made his steps as even as possible. Hopefully, Stan had a first-aid kit in a drawer.
He closed the bathroom door behind him. Finally he let himself relax, swaying, before he caught himself on the sink. Dust tumbled off it in a small waterfall. A sigh escaped him when he lowered himself carefully down to the floor, trying to ignore the pain radiating from his body. Focus. He forced his hands to start digging through the splintered wood that was a cabinet. He spotted a bottle of rubbing alcohol that was half empty and a bandage wrap. Carefully he took off his sweater. After that his mind went on autopilot.
Ford had better things to worry about after all, like Stan’s memories. He didn’t want to face the reality of what he had done but he knew he had to. It should have been him under the memory gun. After all, he was the one who brought Cipher to Gravity Falls. If only it wasn’t for that darn metal plate he had gotten installed. It had been his mission to kill Cipher all those years in the portal, and he had been more than willing to die if that meant that monster was dead. It stung to think about how close he was to killing him and it was hard not to be bitter about it when Stan brought him back but after everything that happened he found himself grateful. Not that he was glad he didn’t manage to kill Cipher in the portal, after all that was his own failure. No, he was glad to have a family again.
He shook his head to clear his mind, he’d been in there too long. Whether he liked it or not he was the adult in the situation, what with Stan barely knowing who he himself was. The wrap around the injuries looked tight enough. It was for the better he was thinking about something to distract him from the image of the burns.
Fear, pain, it was so hot. Why couldn’t it just end?
“Grunkle Ford? Are you ok? You’ve been in there a while” Dipper's muffled voice shook him out of the memory.
“I’m alright my boy, I’ll be out soon” Ford tried to keep his voice reassuring and steady.
“Ok” He heard Dipper say unsurely, he hated that he was the cause of his worries.
Dipper's footsteps trailed away. He put his sweater back on valiantly trying to ignore the pain and heat radiating from the wounds. Ford made his way back to the living room, careful not to jostle any injuries. As soon as he walked into the room Wendy’s eyes turned to him. She raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, he looked away from her gaze and turned to where Stan was sitting.
“I’m going to check on the town, stay here with Stan,” He directed this at the twins.
“If either of you would like to join me you’re free to,” he paused “You don’t have to of course.”
“I’ll probably stay here dude, maybe start trying to fix some things up,” Soos told him.
Ford nodded, after all, that was a good idea.
“I’ll join you, man, I wanna check up on my family,” Wendy responded.
“Ok” He took a deep breath, noting that breathing was getting a bit more difficult. He put that in the back burner of his mind.
His eyes lingered on Stan and the kids before walking out of the Shack, well what was left of it at least.
Wendy trailed behind him awkwardly. He could feel the trepidation exuding from her.
This was going to be a long walk.
He scratched the back of his neck “So,” he cut off awkwardly “who are you related to?”
Equally awkward she replied “Dan Corduroy.”
Ford’s face lit up “Oh! Boyish Dan Corduroy.”
Wendy stopped in her tracks “What?” A smile widened on her face.
Ford stopped too “He’s the one who built my h- the shack.”
“Seriously? He was called Boyish Dan Corduroy? And he built the shack? How did I not know this!”
“What is he called now?” He was curious to know.
“Manly Dan, I’m so gonna lord that over my Dad.”
Ford chuckled quietly, he could see Dan in her. They resumed walking, once again falling into silence.
“Do you have any family here? Besides Stan and the twins of course,” Wendy asked causally.
“No, but I do have a um, close friend, we were roommates in college” Ford answered shyly.
“No way, who is it?” Wendy looked excited.
“Fiddleford Mcgucket.”
For the second time, Wendy stopped in her tracks.
“Old Man Mcgucket? Woah he went to college? Doesn’t seem the type.”
Ford frowned at that, he had heard what had happened to his dear friend.
“He was- is quite brilliant, especially robotics.”
Wendy nodded at that and kept walking “Yeah he’s the one who made the blueprints and stuff for the Shack-O-Tron” Wendy stuck her hands in her pockets.
His mind flashed to the relief he had felt when seeing it. His pride in the kids and Fiddleford.
“I assumed so, it’s nice to know for sure, however.”
Wendy nodded.
A beat later Ford asked “Are you injured at all? Weirdmaggedon doesn’t take kindly to anyone.”
She shrugged “I’ve been better, but I’ll be fine. You on the other hand.”
She stared pointedly at him, and it reminded him so much of the looks of disapproval Stan had given him in his youth when he would stay up late reading a book. He ignored the burning behind his eyes.
“I’m fine, nothing I’m not used to.”
That was a lie, and she knew it.
Wendy eyed him suspiciously but dropped it.
They walked in silence the rest of the way.
“Hey, Stan 2? What happened to the town? The last time I saw it, it was a mess!”
“Defeating Bill must’ve reversed the effects caused by Weirdmaggedon.” A jolt of pain shot through his head “At least to the town, it seems people are still affected.”
Wendy once again shot him a suspicious look “Seems reasonable, I guess.”
They walked into the town, it seemed everyone was gathered near the center. He saw tears spring to Wendy’s eyes when she saw her family, the only time she hasn’t looked calm since Ford had known her. She was the Ice Bag for a reason.
Ford looked around, there wasn’t a point in him being here longer than necessary. Everything seemed in place.
“Stanferd,” Ford jumped at the sound of his name being called.
He turned to see Fiddleford standing with a sad smile.
“Fiddleford, hello, are you doing well?”
“My memo-memories are gettin' better, so I reckon imma doin' good.”
Ford smiled softly at his old partner. Fiddleford looked him up and down, he tried not to squirm under his gaze.
“How’re ya doin' Stanferd?” Fiddleford asked with a suspicious look.
Ford rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly “I’m fine.”
Fiddleford gave him a piercing look so reminiscent of his old self that it made his eyes start watering for the 3rd time that day.
“I suppose I’m a little tired.” That was an understatement.
Fiddleford nodded. Ford motioned for a seat and with a nod they sat down. They sat in a peaceful silence, Ford was thankful for the respite from everything. However brief.
Speaking of, it was oddly quiet, like the world got muted. He felt his breathing pick up, as if the air was thinning, and his heartbeat pounded in irregular thumps.
Black spots filled his vision.
“Stanferd?”
Everything was too much, his body felt out of his control. Black covered his vision.
“I’m fine,” he managed in a slurred voice.
That was when he passed out.