-There is a way out of here for me- Part 2

Lee stared after them.

And then he stared down at the blocky rectangular 'phone' he was holding.

That older Sixer had told them all not to take gifts from demons every single time that they'd tried to do it. Every. Single. Time.

...every single time except this one.

And Lee wasn't exactly up right now for trying to figure out whether this one going without some kinda warning was some kind of 'oversight' or not.

Lee waited until he could no longer see or hear either of them -- any of them -- anymore.

Then he promptly turned around and chucked the 'phone' over the side of the railing, out and into the ocean waves in front of him, as hard and as far as he could.

Then he let out a breath as he wasn't struck by lightning or anything in the next couple of seconds, and turned away, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he tried to figure out what to do next--

--and froze in place for a moment as he felt something big-ish and kind of blocky in there.

...He slowly pulled out the 'phone' and stared at it.

And then he just as slowly shoved it back into his pocket.

'Great…'

Lee pulled in a deep breath of that nighttime ocean air, and... he walked into the cabin on-deck. He wasn't sure yet if he was gonna go after Sixer or not, whether it was a good idea or not, but either way, having some warm drink waiting for his twin once he was back -- tea, or coffee, or hot chocolate mix, or something -- would be better than not setting that up for him. ...Y'know, in case he went out looking for him and the demons had been lying about where he was, and he came back early first, before Lee found him. Just in case.

Lee let out a breath, as he took a look around the cabin, and mentally took stock of everything he was gonna have to handle for himself and Sixer from now on. --They had the boat, a lot of cash, and plenty of food both in the galley and down in the hold. The 'list of names' was up on the wall, and Lee-- Stan grimaced at the list of names, thinking that the first thing he was gonna spring for was a dark and pretty thick curtain to cover over that.

He took a quick moment to place his hand against the wall and-- yeah, the demons' names came right off of it like they were never there, along with the two older-thems' names, which had both had '-- Dimension 46'\' next to them, for some reason. Le--Stan let out a sigh. Damn. Stupid demons; he was having to get used to his own name all over again.

He looked down and saw a few more gold coins on the countertop and snorted. 'Extra rent', sure. He pocketed them. ...Food, yeah. Really, in the dried goods they had, it was enough to last them for months if need be. And they didn't need any more supplies to make the place livable; they could even save their quarters for stuff other than the laundromat. With all the stuff that Miz added into and around the boat over the past few days... Stan looked around and realized that, heck, the boat might be small, but between the cabin up here and what he'd been doing with the rest of the spaces belowdecks? They almost had a better furnished living space than their parents' house. ...And, bonus, everything was solar-powered so they wouldn't need to pay any electricity bills -- just 'gas' bills for propane tanks if they really wanted to use the fire ranges on the stove to cook.

And as for money, beyond what Lee (--Stan!) had had in the boat account (a decent sizeable chunk) and his own checking account (almost nothing)? Stan had counted through all the money they'd been given by the old-man him, over the weekend. Most of it had gone into a couple of new bank accounts that the old-man him had helped them open -- which meant the money in the bank would be untouchable until they each turned eighteen -- but the old-man him had told them it was good to have some put aside. Less chance of being stolen, lost, or spent needlessly, while they weren't yet used to the idea of being flush, but also needing to save as much of it as possible, in case they couldn't (or didn't want to) get jobs for awhile, themselves.

They still had a lot of cash on hand, too, in a safe that Miz had built with DNA scanners to prevent theft. That was safely sequestered away below decks, too.

Stan sighed as he pulled out the list of wrecks that Miz had given him. That was better than a bunch of diving equipment that he couldn't use, and probably couldn't sell without a lot of questions asked. --Worst-case, he could sell the locations if he had to, one by one. Maybe even do it for a share of the profit, or the treasure found?

He let out a breath, as he sat down on his bunk and looked around the cabin. It was empty, almost like nobody had ever lived here before. ...Well, maybe not empty-empty, but it didn't feel lived-in, just… filled with stuff that was waiting for somebody to live in it.

He felt it sink in that he was all alone. Really alone. --His brother wasn't here, and he needed to take care of him--

...except the old-man him was right. If he went running off after Sixer now, he wouldn't appreciate it. He'd just get mad all over again. He'd called him clingy before, and if Sixer was at home crying in front of their ma--

Stan winced at the very thought. He didn't want to risk Sixer getting caught out doing that, and getting all angry about it.

...which left him all alone on the boat, by himself, havin' to look out after himself...

Stan shoved his hands into his pockets again, hunching his shoulders, and paused again, blinking.

He slowly let out a breath, and tried to tell himself that things weren't really so bad...

And then the whistle on the kettle went off on the stove, and he got up.

---

Miz was throwing blue fireballs into the sky and ocean, screaming in frustration. Stan quietly watched her as she threw her 'little' tantrum, waiting for Ford and the kid to show up. Finally she seemed to wear herself out and slump over in the sand. "Lee's not stupid. And neither are you." Miz sniffled.

Stan sighed. "Why're you so angry, dragon-lady?"

"Because you're a wonderful man and you don't appreciate yourself enough." Miz wiped at her face. "I don't like seeing you two putting yourselves down all the time." She pulled her legs up to her chest. "It's not fair."

"Life ain't fair, and the world likes kicking people when they feel down," Stan told her straightforwardly, walking up to her side, and crouching down next to her on the sand gingerly. (He sure as hell wasn't gonna sit his tush down onto any of it, this time of night. Glass Shard Beach had its name for a reason.)

"But this isn't the world, it's you and your own view of yourself. Lee isn't stupid, Sixer's mad because he's an angry child. It's not Lee's job to appease Sixer when his precious feelings get hurt. Especially not when Sixer never gives a shit about making Lee feel better whenever he gets upset."

"Hey…" Stan reached over to cat-pet Miz on the head, "That's not on you either." It was more of a stroking motion than a patting, Stan having realized how much it really did make a difference, when it came to her letting go of some stuff and calming down faster. (Mabel had her hugs; Dipper did less soft arm-punches and more 'words of wisdom', kinda. Wasn't like he wasn't used to different kids needing different stuff. ...Hell, even the kid did better with soft, almost-hair-mussing head-pats.) "He'll feel better soon. And ma ain't gonna kick him out, exactly," at least, Stan was pretty sure she wouldn't. "It's Pa getting ahold of him that's gonna be a problem. Ma'll help SIxer feel better, and Lee's gonna feel better after that, after he's back."

Miz nods slowly. "...okay…" she sniffled. "But it sucks."

Stan sighed. "Yeah, well, getting kicked outta the house sucks. --Not like that's news," he said, mussing her hair up a bit at the last, with a rueful half-smirk.

Miz sighed and slowly got up. "I hope they work this out."

"They'll be fine," Stan told her, while trying not to think about it too hard. (Hell, he had his own mess with his own brother to try and handle here, himself.)

He glanced off down the beach as the wind picked up, and sighed as he spotted Ford dragging Bill down the beach towards them. Stan groaned a little as he pushed off of his knees, straightening up from his crouch. "C'mon, Miz. This ain't our problem anymore. Let's go."

---

Bill was concentrating on reopening the portal. Luckily, he'd set it up to be still there and merely had to open it and not create it. Much easier on his energy reserves! (Especially since, as part of their leaving, he was going to need to finish...)

Bill HAD to admit, though, that he'd been feeling… a bit more energetic in general since he'd started eating his sister's cooking. (...Possibly because he'd been eating MORE of it? HM. Stanley had told him that he should try to eat more if he wanted to feel more 'awake' and 'energetic', once or twice...) His stupid human-ish body was easier to move around, for one thing -- far more responsive than usual, and with far less concentrated effort required!

Well, whatever the reason was, he hadn't found it as hard not to smite that Stanford for dragging him around earlier, and it was easier to concentrate on what-all he was wanting to do more than that, instead. He finished his work, then set his shoulders and braced himself as he commanded--

--and soon enough, the portal was open again.

Ford was staring at it. His worry over the niblings came back. And part of him still thought that they would be safer if Bill wasn't there with them… but…

Miz gave her brother a comforting nuzzle before he braced himself again, and she stepped through the portal.

Bill was marginally less jittery about the necessity (and procedure) of his sister leaving this time. Marginally.

Ford watched as Bill slowly lowered his hands away from his chest.

Ford glanced over at Stan. ...No, he couldn't force Stan to stay here, in a dimension not his own. He couldn't even request it. And Bill certainly hadn't been lying when he'd been talking about time-traveling portals… or bringing people back from the dead.

Ford clenched his fists. There was no easy solution to this. Not yet. --They couldn't keep the niblings safe, not as things stood, and even if they somehow managed to convince Bill to stay here, with them, until the niblings had led out their full lives and died of old age...

Ford closed his eyes in emotional pain at the thought. ...Right here and now, he had no choice but to keep following Stan, who seemed to be both following and not following Bill -- though largely going along with the demon's whims, regardless.

Nothing had changed. Not really. Stan had been in danger before -- and he was in as much or more danger now, with having given himself over to Bill in the manner in which he'd done it, while they'd all been here -- but…

But things had always seemed insurmountable, when it came to Bill Cipher. Up until they hadn't. This wasn't exactly new to Ford, even though he didn't like it. (He certainly didn't have to like it!) --Bill was not invincible or unstoppable, and Ford would handle it as it came. He would do it. He had to. To keep his niblings safe, he would do most anything...

"Kid," Stan said. "C'mon, now."

"That Stanford first," Bill said almost demandingly, and Ford suddenly realized that Stanley had nearly stepped through the portal just now, and Bill was physically blocking him from entering it.

"Kid," Stan said in descending tones, "If I go through next, then your sister--"

"No," said Bill.

"Kid, said Stan.

"That Stanford, you, me," Bill said, and he looked… odd. Ford couldn't place the emotion.

...There was a teenaged girl standing in front of them, being obstinate. This was what Stanley was seeing.

Ford pulled in a breath, and said, "Bill, where does that portal lead?"

"Back to the dimension we came from, out in front of Stanley's house, five minutes after the last portal I made there from here closed," Bill snapped out at him.

...Something was wrong, but Ford couldn't figure it out. Bill was starting to shake slightly again.

"Okay," Stan said, trying for reasonable tones. "How about together." Ford blinked and looked over at him. "We all came here together, right? Why don't we do that instead, kid."

Ford watched as Stan held out his hand to Bill, in a sort of horrified amazement.

...And if Bill hadn't been staring at that outstretched hand with something like the same facial reactions to seeing this that Ford was feeling himself, Ford might've worried about that a bit more.

"C'mon," Stan said, lifting his hands up and turning Bill back around, to face the portal instead of him. "Portal-time, let's go. --Ford?" he said, looking back at him.

Ford pulled in a breath.

...And Ford took those few steps forward, to come up to Bill's side, standing at the demon's left.

Stan was standing at Bill's right, and he was already grasping Bill's hand.

Ford tried not to twitch. He wanted to tell Stan to force Bill to move to his left, so that Ford himself could stand at Stan's right. But...

Ford had a sinking feeling as he looked at Bill, and Bill… kept on looking at the portal. Because...

...this wasn't going to be the first time that he'd held hands with Bill since their doomed and terrible deal. He'd held hands with him once already, on the boat, after that horrible nightmare. He'd done it a second time, in the basement of Mr. Harman's house (and it occurred to him to wonder, had Bill given him a phone, too?), though Bill had rather tricked him into it, then.

It would be the height of stupidity on his part to try and protest it all now. Because if Bill was going to try anything...

...at least in this respect, then he would have done it down in that basement a few days ago.

So Ford pulled in a sharp breath, and he threaded his right hand around Bill's left.

And he tried very hard not to think about both how right, and how utterly wrong it felt. Five fingers instead of four, and no flame to be seen...

He half-expected to light up blue again. He'd been bracing himself for it.

It didn't happen though.

"Okay, time to go," Stan said, and Ford took that as his cue and started walking forward, and Stan--

--Stan did too, but then they had to stop.

Because Bill hadn't moved forward with them.

"Kid?" Ford heard Stan say, as Ford turned back to face him, and he preemptively braced himself, already expecting a terrible laugh, or a too-wide grin with gleaming eyes, hands about to burst up in flame and who-knew what else, as Bill taunted them. Told them that no, they weren't going back, how stupid were they to think that he would do that, just let them go off and--?!

Bill wasn't moving. He was not-quite at arm's length, and hadn't moved from his spot.

Bill was still staring directly at the portal surface. The triangle demon looked pale in the combination of the moonlight and the light of the portal, and...

...Ford suddenly realized that he could feel a tremor in his hands, and it wasn't coming from him.

"It's fine, kid. Take your time," he heard Stan say lowly, and then...

...then, as Ford saw Bill seem to move his shoulders oddly, as Bill continued staring at the portal surface...

...as Bill swallowed and seemed to manage to take one single step forward...

(...managed?...)

Ford had to force himself to remain expressionless as Bill Cipher, one of the most -- if not the most -- terrifying forces in all of the multiverse, wide and far-ranging and weird--

--managed to seem to build up enough steam with squared shoulders and a growing steely look in his eye to walk his way up to the portal.

And as he and Stan both turned in unison, to move along with him -- to not give the demon an excuse to slow himself down or stop moving -- Ford remembered how they'd gotten there.

Miz had made the portal that had gotten them there. Bill had outright taunted her into changing it from one they could step through, into one that they would fall down into, instead.

The portal they'd walked through into that 'anti-Bill's dimension had been like an open archway -- no blue and rippling surface, just air. Permanent, until taken down by Bill alone, and immutable otherwise.

Ford could still feel the tremor in Bill's hand come and go. Stronger and weaker. It wasn't going away.

The demon hadn't reacted much differently the last time he'd created this portal, Ford realized, and Bill wasn't afraid of the dimension that he was re-entering or the people within it, Ford knew that much. Which meant...

Bill was afraid of walking through portals.

Why?

Was this why Bill had wanted to go through it last? Wanting to avoid showing any fear, any weakness of his? So that none of them would see this, to know that--

...Bill wasn't slowing down now, though. They all had enough momentum going now, that...

Ford glanced off to his side, gave the Stan O' War one last look as they all stepped through the portal, together.

----

The portal push and pull was nothing Ford was not used to, other than the hand-holding. They walked through, stepping into and beyond the surface of the mechanism of their interdimensional travel, and…

Ford felt a terribly far too familiar sensation upon exit from the portal, and he'd barely sucked in the breath to start cursing, as they began to fall.

"BILL!!!" Ford yelled, with his death-grip on the demon's hand, because curse the triangle demon, he'd said where and when, but not how far up, and--!!

--Ford felt the breath fly out of him with a cough, as he hit a jiggling surface below him with force, Bill's "AHAHAHAHAHAHA!" of ringing laughter in his ears, but cutting off just as abruptly at and with his own outrush of breath.

It took him a few gasping breaths, and a similar number of moments to realize that the heaving colorful surface that he was on was a…

"GRUNKLE STAN! GRUNKLE FORD!" Mabel screamed as she entered Ford's vision and almost immediately tackled him, and Ford lost at the air in his lungs again with a 'whoof'.

Ford had never been more relieved to discover himself breathless in his life. He couldn't stop the smile, and barely held back the tears.

He didn't know when he let go of Cipher, to grab up his grand-niece in a two-armed hug, but he only really realized that he'd done it after he had to move one arm away from Mabel, to wrap it around Dipper, in order to return his grand-nephew's own hug.

Stan let out a slow breath, and slowly let go of the kid's hand himself, hiding a wince as he slowly pushed himself up. He nearly had a heart attack at the sudden drop -- and then again when they'd all hit the surface of the bounce house -- but he was otherwise fine.

Stan watched the niblings with Ford, and left them to it. He looked around and saw that it was getting close to nighttime here, the sun working its way farther down. Summertime sunset. He looked back over at the niblings, and saw that they were in the same clothing -- the both of them. So, probably still the same night. --Good. Nice to know that the kid hadn't been lying, and could back up that whole time-traveling portal thing when he needed to. Would have been damn bad to have left the kids alone much longer than a couple minutes or so.

"See? I told you I'd bring them back." Miz said, bouncing off the bounce house (where she'd been waiting for them) and blinking as she stared at the Miz collapsed on the ground. Oh right. She'd left this vessel behind when she'd used the local Door to get to her brother. She nudged the empty vessel with a foot, wondering what to do with it. Not eat it, Ford would get all upset at her if she did that. With a shrug, and realizing that it might be useful to have a vessel lying around for her to use in case of emergencies, Miz converted the vessel into a stuffed animal of a dragon and tucked it under her arm beside Iseblonker. She could leave it upstairs in Bill's room, to use as a backup vessel if she needed it.

Once Bill had slid along the surface of the bounce house and out of the way far enough, Ford let go of Mabel briefly to reach over and pull Stan into the family hug himself, leaving Dipper and Mabel between them, both gripping onto both of their grunkles tightly.

Ford slowly slumped in place in relief, trying not to tear up at seeing that they were both really and truly fine.

Bill, now with his two feet on the ground again, was closing the portal that was above and behind them.

And as soon as he'd finished waving the portal closed, it wasn't a half-second later that a loud horrible screeching sound intermixed with ringing and several other noises went off in Bill's back pocket.

Bill froze in place for a moment, then whipped out his phone.

"...Kid?" Stan said slowly, as he and the rest of his immediate family looked over at the demon-kid, who was expressionless as he worked something with the screen, froze in place again, then did something else and started to flick, and flick, and flick his fingers against the screen, scrolling on something--

"Kid, is there a problem," Stan demanded to know, starting to push himself away from the niblings and Ford.

Stan was almost to the edge of the bouncy house when Bill stopped, and finally blinked (the kid hadn't done that since he'd started staring at the phone, damnit), and then...

...the kid tapped it a few times, closed his eyes and put it away.

"Kid, talk to me," Stan said, because there were only two sets of people the kid talked to on that thing that might cause a reaction like that, and one of them was standing on the ground right next to them. Which meant… "There some problem coming our way?"

"Did you just get all your notifications all at once?" Miz asked.

"It's not our problem, it's theirs," the kid said to Stan tersely, putting his phone away. "And yes, little sis, I did. Somewhat." The kid slowly reopened his eyes and glanced over at Stan again. "They didn't…" The kid had a grim grimace going. "It's fine," the kid said finally. "The fight is not coming here anytime soon, and the events that could have happened could have gone worse than reported." But when the kid looked over at him, Stan couldn't help but stare back, then finish sliding his way off of the bouncy house and back onto his own two feet.

"...Why ain't I feeling better at hearing that," Stan said slowly. He'd recognized that the kid had gotten less and less happy about what had been going on with those folks overall over time -- even if there had been some major ups and downs with what the kid was reading back from them from time to time -- but...

"Because the signal cut out and I can't reach them anymore!" Bill said, sounding irritated in the extreme. (...Yeah, okay. Stan was starting to get what the problem was for the demon-kid now.) "I wasn't able to locate them before that happened. --The ones you would be more worried about are alive and no longer being directly threatened, as of last communication received," Bill said, looking away from him. "But I don't have enough information about the situation to know how long they'll stay that way." And the kid sounded disgusted about that.

Stan pulled in a breath, then let it out slowly.

"Yeah, okay," Stan said tersely, then patted the kid on the head. "...Hey. Best anybody could hope for. Right?" Last he'd heard from the kid, those other younger-them people had been running some kinda death gauntlet, almost. Hearing that they were all 'not directly threatened' anymore was insane-triangle-speak for 'that Bill isn't trying to kill them anymore'.

"For now…" Bill said, not meeting his gaze.

Stan let out a sigh, then let his hand fall. ...And at the looks he was getting from his family, he said, "Kid told me a little more about the folks on the other end of that thing, and how he was talkin' with them. --The whole line was unstable," he told Ford for his benefit. "Signal cutting out was somethin' we kinda expected to happen, sooner or later. Don't worry about it."

Ford continued on frowning, but Stan wasn't about to get into it. The kid had confirmed that there was no 'Bill Cipher that was maybe crazier than him' that he 'couldn't understand' coming their way, that those other thems hadn't died, and that nobody was in danger of getting blown up or murdered by a crazy triangle demon anytime soon. That was enough for Stan right now; more than, even. (Hell, they could talk about the rest later, when they weren't all dead-tired as anything-- and, y'know, when Ford and the kids weren't right next to them listening in, breathing down their necks.)

"Grunkle Ford, are you okay?" Mabel asked him. "Why did the portal close?" Then she gasped and looked a little worried. "I didn't hit you with my grappling hook, did I?" she asked, starting to look over the side of his head. "Or Grunkle Stan?"

"--No, no," Ford hurried to reassure her, as they all slowly slid their way over to the edge of the bouncy house. "You didn't hit either of us with your grappling hook, my dear."

"Good," Mabel said, giving him another hug at his side.

Miz walked back over and poked Mabel's shoulder to get her attention. "Here's the other end of your grappling hook." She handed it to Mabel. She'd ask later if Mabel wanted it fixed.

Mabel looked over and after a long moment, nodded and took the offered item. "...thanks."

Miz looked around for her discarded magic nullifying cuffs and frowned. "Where'd they go…"

They hadn't been gone long, just a few minutes at most. And shouldn't they be dropped right next to her body?

Eh… it was fine even if the cuffs got lost. She'd scanned them, wouldn't be hard to recreate them.

Bill glanced around at the ground when he heard what his sister had muttered, and then over at Pine Tree and Shooting Star…

Bill didn't say anything, or seem to see anything, though. And after looking around a little more, Miz shrugged and waved her hand, building herself a new set of cuffs. Then she thought about it and modified them into a different material. The metal was heavy and uncomfortable. So she made it into smooth wood instead. Still magnetic clasps, same effect, but this time with the runes necessary for it built right into the wood grain.

Miz twitched when the clasps clicked on and she felt a part of her very being sealed away. Always felt weird when that happened. She didn't like all the seals and binds she had to wear, but it did bring down her hyperactivity a little bit. And it made the humans more comfortable. It wasn't like she wasn't used to hiding parts of herself just to make other people like her. It's why she went around making up her different Personas after all.

She shrugged off the missing cuffs, and started walking towards the Shack, wanting back inside. Leave the humans to their reunion. She was a little tired. And the sooner she went to bed, the sooner it would be tomorrow and she'd get to play DDNMD! Plus...

Miz reached back to take Bill's hand; her brother had followed almost immediately after her, and with his longer legs, he'd caught up to her quickly. The older demon was swaying a little as he walked, though. The modifications to the boat that he'd helped her with, and the portal and further work he'd had to do with the dimension before leaving it, had all taken a lot out of him. (Even though the portal had taken less energy to open this time with the way he'd set it up the first time, he'd still needed to put out slightly more of an energy expenditure than that would have taken alone, for what he'd had to do with that dimension, in tying up loose ends here and there before he'd left.)

Miz glanced back at him, noticing this as they slowly made their way up the stairs to the attic, and she resolved to make him an extra nutritious breakfast tomorrow. "Is Lee going to be okay?" she asked quietly.

Bill stretched slightly in place, as he thought about how he might want to reply to his curious little sister on this one.

"If you want to know, you can See for yourself," he told her finally, as they continued ascending the next staircase. "I didn't lock out Sight before we left, just Incoming Travel." (Bill generally didn't lock out Sight from any place he had or claimed Ownership of -- not very often -- since he wouldn't put it past another demon to figure out how he did it from too many example-cases just lying around. He doubted most demons even knew that was possible to do; he certainly didn't want to give any of them a possible incentive to do so!)

Miz nodded. "I hope he feels better. He seemed kinda upset."

"Mm." Bill didn't feel much more than ambivalent about it one way or the other, really. Interested in seeing Lee's reactions after the fact, definitely! But Bill didn't particularly care what those specific reactions were; right now, he had no reason to, and no investment in him.

"Remind me to add you to the 'exceptions' whitelist for this dimension tomorrow," Bill told Miz, though even the act of saying it out loud to her would be enough for him to remember it as important first-thing upon waking, even if he might still be tired and hungry at the time (and thus potentially prone to logic errors at that point). He'd have done it right away earlier, but he knew that he was too tired to do it tonight. ...And he'd be too tired still even tomorrow to change things to allow her Travel access to every other human dimension that existed in his own 'set here so far. Just in case she might want it.

"Alright, any special requests for breakfast tomorrow?" Miz asked him as they both made it up the final set of stairs and into the attic. She pulled out her hat, where she had a bunch of different spices and ingredients from the many shopping trips she'd gone on to use up the money from her earring sales in that other dimension. (Couldn't give them to the twins, so she'd had to use them up.) Getting permission from Stan to cook for her brother was delightful.

Bill shrugged, walked over closer to the window, sat down on the floor of the attic, pulled out and flipped open his eyepatch into his own hat, and then upended it over one of 'Miz's pillows. (He'd basically given her the few -- read: two -- pillows he'd had up here from the bed in Stanley's room downstairs, the first night that she'd come up here. Though, from the look in Miz's eyes, she was probably going to be adding her own pillows from inside her sandcastle to the bedding up in Bill's room. Bill was fine with that. Whatever made his little sister more comfortable here.)

Tired as he was, his Mind was being more impacted by the state of his body than usual, and the connection he had to his human-ish brain had sunken in rather low indeed. And because of this, Bill Cipher's body's brain had not-quite misfired and sent along a not-so-usual output for his thought process for him to his Mind (a 'logic error', as he called it). And thus the demon made the rather nonlinear connection between 'Miz wanting to cook breakfast the next morning for him', to 'Miz liking and wanting ingredients to cook with in general'.

So Bill closed his eyes, let out a few soft clicks and clacks, and a few food items fell out of his hat and onto the pillow; three were clearly not Earth-grown, but one was a bundle of ears of fresh corn. Miz blinked, and scooped them all up, looking them over, and Bill paused, thinking -- he REALLY needed to catalog everything in that one dimension of his that his hat was currently connected to at some point in the near-future, instead of having to scan through his own memories of putting things into it consecutively -- and then made another set of slightly different clicking noises, and a few more food items popped out...

Bill did this a few more times, with Miz scooping up the ingredients each time to look at them, until Bill's eyes drooped, and the older triangle demon of the pair announced, "I'M TIRED…"

...and Bill promptly flipped his hat back into an eyepatch, shoved it into his pocket, and then slumped over sideways onto the floor, ready to sleep.

Miz giggled. "Ok." She put the food away for now and pulled out some more pillows and blankets -- the ones she'd made for the sandcastle at the boat -- before snuggling down beside her brother. "I'll make you something yummy tomorrow." She yawned as she shifted a little to get comfortable.

"Mmm…" Bill hummed out, already almost half-asleep. He had his hat back now, and all the ingredients and edible food items in the dimension connected to it. So when Miz brouggght up yummy food, he made yet another nonlinear connection to: "I should make better teeeeea…" he trailed off as he drifted off into a deep sleep.

Miz smiled at Bill's sleeping face. "Good night Brother." She sighed as she closed her own eyes. They were back (sort of) home. She didn't have to be near that Mini-Ford anymore. That was… nice...

---

Stan got himself, Ford and the niblings back inside the Shack. "Ugh… I'm so tired," Stan complained. Mabel was still holding onto him, afraid to let go. Stan had one arm draped around her. "Hey, sorry it took us so long. A couple things, y'know, came up."

...So long? "How long has it been?" Dipper narrowed his eyes, picking up on Stan's tone and Ford's weary expression. They seemed drained. And Great-Uncle Ford looked really… sad.

"Uh…" Grunkle Stan exchanged a glance with Great-Uncle Ford, then looked down at Dipper, and...

"It's been a little over a week for us," Great-Uncle Ford told him. (Ford didn't like how Dipper was frowning up at them, looking at the as though he was expecting them to lie. And at the look of alarm that both niblings got at his news, Ford quickly explained.) "--We're fine, we were just…" He almost glanced over at Grunkle Stan, then looked away. "Taking care of our younger dimensional counterparts," he ended, to both Mabel's and Dipper's surprise. "You don't have to worry about them, now. We left them both quite well off."

"Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!" Mabel said at about a hundred miles an hour, squishing her own cheeks with her hands, eyes shining. "Did you fix the science fair thing! Did you kick their demon butts for messing it up! --Were there ice cream sandwiches and parties involved when Younkle Ford got into college?"

Grunkle Stan winced. So did Great-Uncle Ford. And neither of them were looking at each other -- which even Dipper noticed.

"The demons didn't do nothin' to the project, kids," Grunkle Stan told them. "It broke, and… well." He scratched at his cheek. "We ain't really sure why it broke this time, but... yeah. We, uh, we handled the aftermath."

Dipper rubbed a hand over his face and groaned out something about Wendy and carnival games, that Stan didn't quite catch, though it had Ford looking at him askance. "--But are the teenage yous okay?" Mabel asked them almost anxiously. "I mean, really-really okay?"

"Yeah," Stan told her, crouching down to place a hand on her shoulder, despite his fatigue. "They're gonna be really-really okay," he told her, with a little bit of a smile. "Like Ford said. Me and Ford, we got 'em all set up; no worries."

Dipper frowned. "Did Bill or Miz try to mess things up for the younger versions of you?"

"Bill gave Stan's younger counterpart a phone to call him with, if ever they run into trouble in the future that they may not be able to deal with," Ford told them all quietly. "He expressed his willingness to hand his own phone directly to Stan and without hesitation, should such a need arise."

"That's, uh," Stan stared up at Ford, trying not to feel all… what was it called… discombobulated at that little piece of information? He'd known that the kid had wanted to say something to his younger self that maybe he hadn't wanted them to overhear, but… he hadn't been expecting that. (He'd thought that maybe it would be something about 'the saboteur', or Carla, that the kid obviously didn't want to tell either of them, but that the kid had been 'letting' Miz get away with bringing up to Carla and their younger twin selves at school.) --Because that, right at the end there, would have been the only time that the kid really couldn't gotten away with that, when the kid would have been alone with both Lee and Ford, when Ford would've been watching and Stan wouldn't have heard about it.

"...Kinda how most of it went," Stan told the kids slowly. "Bill wasn't tryin' to mess stuff up on purpose; kid just had a couple things he didn't want to talk about to the rest of us, and he didn't even kill nobody at school or nothin'," he told them. And while the kids were reeling from that one, Stan said next, "Hey Ford, maybe you wanna take this one, instead?" with an internal smile at the look Ford got on his face at that.

Ford frowned, unsure how to feel about everything they'd gone through. "Stan managed to convince both Bill and Miz to attend classes at the local high school with them," Ford began, trying to explain the 'high school' part to the niblings rather quickly, and with as little fanfare and alarm as possible. "Ostensibly in order to keep either of our younger dimensional counterparts from skipping any classes while we were settling things out for them with their living situation and their finances." Ford couldn't help but send Stan a look at that one. He rather didn't want to get into Stan's second 'bet' with the dream demon right then and there in front of the niblings; they were both tired, and the questions that would result had the potential for keeping them all up for the rest of the night. "The man-eater tried to give them several things to 'help' with their living situation -- and they accepted them, which was unwise," Ford noted. (Stan rolled his eyes.) "Miz built them a combination solar-powered washing machine and water purifier… and an air filtration device… among many other things… as we also did, to help to make the Stan O' War a place where they could continue to live since they lost their home."

Stan winced at the worry the twins got at the 'living situation' part, and decided to take over at the horrified look the twins both got at the 'lost their home' bit. "--Look," said Stan, "I got 'em a bunch of money -- legally, even! -- and me and Ford fixed up the Stan O' War for them, made sure they could keep going to school, and even got the thing out on the water -- finished it off and made it into a real houseboat for them," he told Dipper and Mabel both, circling his arms around them. "They're okay, the demons didn't kill or torture nobody -- yeah, 'as far as we know', fine Ford -- and we're all back in once piece. ...And, y'know, dead-tired, cause it was pretty late when we all jumped back, too. Just, y'know, a week later," Stan told the twins next. "So you think you could cut us both a break, and let us tell you the rest of everything about everything in the morning?"

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other, and Mabel bit her lip.

"...Do you want us to sleep with you tonight?" Mabel asked them both seriously, though she was looking more at Ford when she said it.

"Uh, well," Stan began, rubbing at the back of his neck. (He wasn't really feeling like having another sleep session in the living room, or sleeping in sleeping bags on the floor of Ford's bedroom, when his own bedroom was just right down the other hallway. He'd been kinda looking forward to sleeping in a decent bed, once they'd got back. Not least of which because of his back, ugh. But if this was gonna make the kids feel better about everything...)

"I wouldn't mind if Stan slept in my room with me tonight, but I think you two would be safe in your room upstairs, unless you feel unsafe and would like to sleep with us in my room also," Ford said quietly, not quite looking at any of them.

Stan blinked at this. "Uh, sure," Stan said. "We can do the bunk across the cabin thing again." He didn't really mind. They'd done it on the boat, and the Stan O' War II, and...

...Stan saw the niblings give each other a look, and then Dipper said, "We're not afraid of Bill or Miz." And when Mabel smiled and told them, "We'll be upstairs if you need us!" Stan started to get the feeling that something was going on with his brother that he hadn't picked up, but that maybe the kids almost definitely had.

He got himself a couple of hugs from the niblings -- which he, of course, grumbled about as usual, with the biggest of smiles on his face -- and he took his time slowly standing up while he waited for the kids to finish giving Ford a pair of twin hugs, too.

The kids made their way upstairs, and then...

Then it was him and Ford.

Ford gave him a glance, and then turned on his heel and started walking for his bedroom. --Ford's bedroom, not his.

...Right, because the kid would have to give permission for Ford to be sleeping in Stan's -- and his -- bedroom. Y'know, the one which actually had two beds in it. Not that Ford would probably want to be sleeping in either his bed or the kid's bed, anyway. Great. ...Well, he'd really stepped in it this time, hadn't he.

Stan sighed, but then kind of shrugged it off, and followed his brother down the hallway.

It wasn't until Stan had followed him in, and Ford had closed the door behind him, that Stan realized something a hell of a lot bigger was up, because he hadn't had more than a breath to turn to Ford and say, "So…" to start asking after how the hell they were gonna manage this with one bed and a couch that Stan kind of didn't really want to be sleeping on because of his back, when he practically got the breath knocked outta him for the third time that night, for the hug that Ford was giving him now.

Ford's thoughts were in a complete and utter disarray. He'd learned too many terrible things today. The fact that his science project had been wrong, and that Stan had known and simply never said anything because he'd assumed for whatever reason that his own doubts must have been wrong, because… Because Stan thought Ford was brilliant and he must have gotten it right, and Stan himself must've gotten it wrong? Not to mention the horror of finding out that Stan had really, truly believed that their parents wouldn't have taken him back, even if he'd come back that night after being thrown out, or at any time after. That Stan thought that Pa would have just thrown him out all over again, back out onto the streets, if he'd tried. That Stan had thought their Ma wouldn't have even tried to defend him against their Pa. That she wouldn't have thought that Stan was worth it--

...that Stan even now thought that he wasn't worth anything...

--that the reason why Stan had never come back home, had left Ford all those years ago and never come back, never even tried to contact him himself, was because Stan had thought he wasn't wanted--

It scared Ford, that he didn't know what Stan might think of him, too. That Stan thought Pa and Ma wouldn't have taken him back was… was terrible in and of itself, but it also begged the question of… did Stan think that Ford would not have defended him, as well?

Ford self-admittedly had not thought much on the realities of living on the streets without a home, when he'd been younger. He'd thought Stan had been fine, would be fine; Stan had always been the one with plenty of friends, who'd always had a plan of some sort, who'd always seemed to land on his feet, one way or another. ...But Stan had not been fine, out on his own. Ford knew that now. 'In jail in three different countries', and a box full of fake IDs. The look of him when he'd shown up on his doorstep in the middle of that snowstorm...

Whatever Ford might have felt for his brother, no matter how angry he was at him for ruining his life so many years ago… he would not have wanted his brother to starve to death out on the streets. If Stan had come back home, or come to him begging for help… Ford would not have been pleased with him, but he would have done it. ...Likely the bare minimum that could possibly be expected of him, as family, but… he would have done it.

He would have told his parents that it wasn't right for Stan to be living in such danger, or left to be starving himself out on the streets. He would have taken him in, however unwillingly, into his house there in Gravity Falls, fed him, given him a cot to sleep on, called his parents, and then passed him along and back to his parents the first chance that he got, with a nonrefundable bus ticket (one that Stan wouldn't be able to cash in and cash out on for cash money that he might be able to sell and spend on other things) and a ride to the bus stop to see him off (so that Stan's choice would be going home or nothing).

He would have hated Stan for it, and hated himself for doing it…

(...because he'd be giving in and helping Stan when he knew Stan would just hurt him, all over again…)

(...because doing so, forcing Stan to leave again would have been the only way he had to protect himself from… from anything else that Stan…)

(...because he knew that giving in and letting Stan into his life again for even such a short period of time would damn near destroy him all over again, because he knew he wouldn't be able to stand it, having him around again, so he'd have to make him leave for his own sanity, yet forcing him away again would hurt him so damn much and he knew this, he'd know this going into it…)

...but… he would have done it.

He would have done it anyway.

If Stan had shown back up on the doorstep of the pawnshop, to darken it once again, begging forgiveness, begging for a second chance, even the very next day...

...Ford would have gritted his teeth and borne it, his parents' decision to let Stan back in. But he would have moved himself and his things up into the attic. He would not have been able to fall asleep in the same room with him, as if nothing had changed irrevocably forever, as if nothing was horribly wrong. He would not have forgiven, or forgotten, no, but… he would not have sabotaged Stan right back. He would not have protested, said 'no, what are you doing, toss him back out before he ruins us all again!' or anything at all in like kind...

But Stan thought that his parents -- their parents -- would have done that, when Ford himself was so very sure that they never, ever would. And if Stan thought that of them, still, to this day...

...And Stan had gone into the pawnshop to talk to their younger counterparts' father. And Stan had said nothing to any of them about the words that had been exchanged there, not even a single one, since.

But he'd walked out of there with a piece of paper stating a transfer of guardianship for them both. Ford had seen a glimpse of that sheet of paper, and that handwriting. He'd seen their parents' names forged on permission slips by Stan at the last minute for field trips before, and he also knew what their parents' signatures actually looked like. And the signature on that piece of paper had been unmistakably been...

...The signatures on that piece of paper had been...

Ford pulled in a shaky breath and hugged his brother even tighter. He'd thought that Stan had convinced their parents somehow, because Stan was so good at being so very convincing, after thirty years of being a successful tourist trap conman. But he knew what Stan sounded like when he was lying, and what he did when he wasn't. And when Stan had said… about their parents… and he'd said...

There had been no shaken faith there after having talked with them once again. Stan had been absolutely certain of what he'd said there, even after talking and meeting with them, then. It hadn't been a question, or even an opinion; to Stan, it had just been a plain fact.

It had just been a fact.

--Their parents had thrown Stan out of the house over a science fair project that didn't actually work, and never had, because it didn't do what Ford had told them that it was supposed to do, broken or not. The reality of the situation had never been what Ford had thought it was or would be. And Stan...

"I'm sorry," Ford whispered out to his brother hoarsely, unable to keep the tears from falling anymore, as he hugged Stan even tighter. "I'm sorry, Lee. I'm--"

"Shit, Ford. C'mon…" his brother said slowly, rubbing circles on his back, just as he hugged him back, even as Ford started to shake. "You're tired as anything. So am I. --I ain't mad now, and I ain't gonna be mad in the morning, okay?" his brother added next, as Ford hugged him that much more tightly. "I ain't been mad about it for a real long time, Ford," and Stan sounded nothing but quietly tired at that. "Let's just get some rest, okay? Some real sleep? --We're home, yeah?" Stan told him, letting out a breath, and still hugging him back. (And Ford was half-anxious about it, waiting for when he'd get annoyed then angry with him and push him away.) "We're home. It's okay, Ford. We're home."

Ford didn't remember if he'd ever stopped crying that night. What he did know was that Stan had managed to coax him over to the bed, and they ended up both falling asleep on it together, curled up in each others arms... like they'd used to do when they were kids, and Ford had had another nightmare again.

(The last time that he'd done that with Stan, he'd been twelve. By the time they'd turned thirteen, Stan had refused to do that for him anymore.)

And when Ford woke up the next morning, with aching eyes and Stan still curled up next to him in his arms, and looking somehow both 'grumbly old man' and peaceful in his sleep, Ford felt a dizzy sort of uncertainty slowly envelop him.

(...Because if Stan was actually okay with doing this sort of thing for him now, to keep the nightmares away in his and their old age, then why had Stan been so insistent that Bill 'fix things' with whatever connection they supposedly had, instead of simply deciding to fall asleep alongside him, instead? Didn't Stan still think he was such a bother, for wanting to be able to get in so close and actually just hug him forever, sometimes?)

(...Or did Stan simply not remember that yet? How much he didn't like Ford doing that anymore? It didn't happen often, not after that first week post-Weirdmageddon, but from time to time Stan would still get that very particular frown, as he remembered something that he hadn't quite had in his mind and his memories then, that he'd once had in them before.)

(And if Stan didn't remember that yet… how many times could Ford get away with doing this sort of thing before he did?)

Ford stared over at his brother, still sleeping and not-quite snoring, right in front of him, right next to him, and Ford slowly closed his aching, still slightly teary eyes.

(Maybe he was taking advantage of Stan in some way, doing this when Stan didn't remember that he didn't want Ford being all 'babyish' and 'touchy-feely' and 'girly' and such to him. But even though Ford knew it was wrong to do so, because he knew better, knew Stan's clearly expressed wishes otherwise, from so many years ago, and repeated ad-nauseum multiple times, to Ford's horror at the time… Ford still wanted to do it. He'd desperately missed that closeness with his brother, his twin, long before Stan had begun to replace 'twin' with 'brother'. Long before Stan had replaced those hugs with those odd and so out-of-place arm-grabs around his shoulders. --For picture-taking only, and only when Ford was doing something of note. It had made Ford feel sick, like he was suffocating almost in-reverse, his brother's self-insertion into his life and then immediate removal of it, so quickly and so sickeningly and obviously not done for Ford's own benefit or comfort that it had hurt, every single time that Stan had done it.)

Stan didn't seem… to hate it, though. Not right now; not anymore. Stan had done it himself a few times on the boat, that sort-of around-the-shoulder gesture. But it had felt different that time -- those times that he'd done it, plural. When Ford had returned them -- trying neither to rush it nor overthink it -- they'd felt more like one-armed hugs than anything, and…

'Stan doesn't seem to have any problem giving, taking, or receiving hugs from the niblings', Ford realized, with that odd sleepy molasses slowness that was characteristic of one's thinking after slowly waking up from a good night's sleep, but still long before coffee was even a thought upon the distant horizon.

(Maybe, just maybe… Stan had changed over the years and didn't mind it so much anymore? ...Yes. Perhaps that was it. His brother had been through a lot. And Soos was rather huggy and, well, almost clingy at times. --More emotionally clingy than physically clingy, necessarily, but while Stan griped about it at times, he didn't seem to actually dislike it, necessarily. And while, most times, he refused to humor Soos by hugging him back -- just standing there and taking it with no aplomb whatsoever -- Stan never actually tried to shove Soos off of him, even though the Stan of Ford's youthful memories had done so to him. ...Maybe, perhaps, a small part of Stan had actually come to miss that closeness that Ford had so desperately wanted and missed for so very long, too? Ford hoped this was the case…)

Ford's thoughts turned around, and around, in slow circles at this. And, despite the waking hour, and the sunlight that was beginning to stream through the curtains over the windows…

Ford slowly fell asleep once again, one hand still entwined in one of Stan's own, one arm still thrown over his brother's side, just below his shoulder.

And even as his breathing evened out, Ford still felt like crying all over again.

---