Chapter Text
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-=-=-=-
There was no denying that Stanley Pines had made a ton of progress as of late.
Whilst his memory was still far from perfect, the man’s memories had returned in fits and starts, fuelled by his brother’s tireless dedication to sharing endless childhood tales and family photographs. At first, Ford’s tearful eyes and tight hugs confused the sixty year old, but as the weeks flew by he came to understand the real significance of his confused feelings. After all, Stan had spent a majority of his life feeling he was nothing more than an unwanted disappointment to his brother. But it turned out Ford was still sorting through his own baggage, each new pleasant childhood memory came with a sharp sting of pain and regrets, often vocally expressed and full of apologies. And as challenging as it was to comfort a twin he hadn’t seen for thirty years, Stanley, ever the softie, ending up holding him tight, telling him it was okay, that all was forgiven. Even if he couldn’t entirely understand or fully remember whatever the guy had been so distraught about.
The Stan-O-War was a cramped ship, Stanley had spent the majority of his life being used to empty rooms and his own guaranteed privacy, but was now practically living in his brother’s pits. Another issue was that there was no television on board, therefore no game shows and no period dramas to watch, not to mention his beloved couch. But the third and worst issue he had was, being on a boat in the middle of the pacific ocean: there was no way to storm off after a petty squabble. While the two were generally delighted to be reunited, living out their childhood fantasy, they soon returned to classic sibling dynamics.
However, despite all the downsides, Stanley truly felt like his life had never been better. Together they visited remote islands, discovered a new species of man-eating double-headed crabs, witnessed the aurora borealis, caught bioluminescent jellyfish, and even solved a couple of mysteries. Admittedly, they were still working on the ‘treasure and babes’ part of the dream. But above all that, what mattered the most to Stan was that he was reunited with his twin, a brother he feared he’d never see alive again. A brother he long feared would never forgive him, and yet here they were, best of friends once more, sharing secrets they’d never told anyone. Spending long nights drinking, idly chatting and gazing up at the stars. It was all he had ever dreamed of.
Sadly though, if his long and arduous life had taught Stanley Pines anything, it was that brief moments of peace, serenity and joy were moments to cling to wholeheartedly, due to their rapidly fleeting nature.
There was, deep in his bones, a sense that something dreadful was looming far across the earth’s horizon, waiting for him.
This sense of impending doom began to prove itself one night when, as usual, the pair had been drinking. His brother’s previous lab assistant: FiddleFord, aka: Old man McGucket, had invented a truly deadly contraption; parting gift, a device which turned seawater into liquor. It was diabolical. Truly diabolical. After the third night, Ford swore he’d demolish the thing “for the goodness and sanity of all humanity”… After they’d completed their trip of course! (it was in the spirit of being a scientist that Ford insisted they ‘test out’ this new form of alcohol, mixing it with every island fruit they could find.)
It was therefore easy to dismiss his paranoid fears on the intoxicating and sweetened seawater. The sixty year old found his eyes blinking heavily, body low in his beach chair, listening to Ford’s slurring voice reminiscing about… well, something or other. He felt himself on the brink of falling asleep when suddenly the sensation struck him like a bolt of lightning. Goosebumps trickled down his neck and drifted down his shoulders and arms, and his heart began ticking faster as though he’d taken a mean shot of espresso. Ford’s voice melted away, and the sounds of the waves and the gulls faded away into silence.
Again, hardly an immediate concern. He had rationalised that the batteries on his hearing-aids were running low, and the bodily sensations as yet another symptom of ageing: random aches and pains just happened more frequently, he shrugged to himself. But what happened next made him drop his glass. His vision sharpened, the sky around him brightened suddenly as if it were noon, the cloudless night sky now heavy with ominous dark purple clouds and the sky was tinted baby pink, while the ocean turned golden. The most unnatural, and unnerving psychedelic colours.
“Stanley Pines.” The voice in his head giggled. It pronounced his name as if savouring a fine wine, drawing out each syllable with a seductive, yet sneering tone, echoing around the inside of his skull. Why did that voice sound so familiar?! It continued it’s throaty thunder-like laughter, until it slowly faded out into silence.
The glass smashed on the boat’s deck, and his surprised yelp sent his brother into a panic, face sobering and grabbed his gun. “Wha-what is it?!”
As soon as the scene had changed, it disappeared as if nothing had happened. He jolted upright, eyes wide, scanning the world around him, his heart stammering out of his chest.
Ford dropped the gun and knelt by his side, his eyebrows knitted together with concern. He must have noticed the hand laid flat against his chest because he then asked: “Stanley, tell me. Are you having a heart attack?”
“N-no.” He answered, still his tone of voice betrayed him. It was dripping with uncertainty. “I don’t know what it was- it- didn’t feel- normal- I-”
A warm six-fingered hand laid against his hairy forearm. “Shh, it’s okay, tell me what happened.”
Stanley stopped scanning the skies and ocean around them to focus on his brother’s slightly sobered expression. His body kept drifting slightly to the left, along with the boats sways but he was clearly trying his hardest not to.
Why did that voice sound so familiar? Looking into his brother’s eyes, he suddenly remembered.
“BILL!” He blurted out, a hand raised to cover his mouth. But how was that possible? He was dead, he’d destroyed him- no- THEY’D destroyed him- together. Clearly Ford was going through his own thought spiral, the panic part now settling in and painted his face with dread.
“B-Bill who? Bill- Bill Cipher?” He asked, desperate eyes searched his.
Stanley’s shaking hands came together, and formed the sign of a triangle up in the air between them. His twin gasped and karate chopped the digits apart as soon as it was formed.
“AHH!! NO!! No no no. Stanley, you’re- you’re wrong. He’s dead. We- we-”
“-Killed him? I know. I can’t explain it-” Stan leaned forward, almost headbutting his twin who had been kneeling so close, too close, and cursed the alcohol for making the words so challenging to form.
“-All I know is- I was drifting off, and all of a sudden the night’s gone day, the ocean’s gold and I hear his voice calling my name!”
His twin threw a disrespectful rigid finger at his nose. “You’re-you’re drunk. Or you’re messing with me, which one is it?!”
Stanley grunted, pushing himself up from the flimsy deck chair, and stood up straight rubbing his lower back. “Maybe you’re right, Six. Heh, I told you I’m losing my mind, eh? I’ll- I’ll go get some sleep and forget about it.”
Beside him, his brother stumbled awkwardly to his feet, smoothed his grey hair back with one hand swipe, feigning sobriety and cleared his throat. “Right, yes. Ahem, indeed. Uh, good night Stanley.”
“G’night Poindexter.” He smiled warmly before walking back inside the cabin.
-=-=-=-
For a moment it had worked, choosing to ignore it, pretend it didn’t happen. Blaming the drinks, blaming his mind. But as soon as he got back to their sleeping quarters, the goosebumps returned. He gripped onto the wooden doorway, steadying his feet against the usual sway of the ship against the waves and heard that thunderous giggle once more.
“Bill.” He growled under his breath.
“A little lost in the sauce, are we Stanley?” The voice echoed around his skull, like headphones with deep bass, each word sending vibrations down his spinal cord. And still he saw nothing.
“Where are you? What do you want from me?!”
The demon refused to answer, a barely audible laugh faded once again into silence, until his regular hearing returned as normal. The sounds of waves and the thrumming of the many machines aboard the Stan-O-War.
“Bill?!” He hissed, and repeated it again shortly after receiving no reply.
It was challenging to settle down to sleep after that, but eventually he drifted off into a deep sleep. Having intensely vivid dreams full of psychedelic colours and distorted stars.
-=-=-=-
A few days passed since Bill’s first intrusion. No more hallucinations, auditory or visual, and Ford seemed to have forgotten the entire experience. It wasn’t until the fourth day that the demon came back in full force. From Stan’s point of view the ‘trip’ had only lasted seconds, but when he came to, he learned that he had been out for hours.
This time his brother was sober, he grabbed his trusty journal and took detailed notes of what happened. Bill’s voice, inside his head.
“-he told me he’s been waiting-”
“Waiting? Waiting for what?”
“I don’t know.” he groaned, holding the compress against his aching forehead. “- that’s all he said, I tried to ask him what’s going on, he wouldn’t tell me, it’s like- it’s like I can hear him but he can’t hear me-”
“Is he... real? Is it really him or was it just in your head?”
Stanley shot him a withering scowl. “I didn’t make it up! It was real, Sixer. VERY real!”
The twin sighed, setting down his journal and pen and edging closer along the bunk. “I didn’t mean it like that. What I’m trying to ask is: did it feel like a memory, or- or a recording, perhaps? Did it feel like it was happening to you in real time?”
Rubbing his sore head, he groaned again. “I don’t know, how am I supposed to tell the difference?”
“That’s a good point.” Ford sighed, crossing his arms tight across his chest, his gaze wandering out to the waves from beyond the window’s glass. “When Bill visited my mind, it felt like time slowed down, but at the same time intensely immediate. I accessed him through hours of meditation, in that meditative state you find yourself neither in the past nor future, all there is, is ‘the now’.”
“Do I look like I give a flying fuck about meditation?”
Agitation swept over his double’s face, before he shook it away with one swift motion of his nose, replacing it with a smile tinged with sadness. “No, no I don’t suppose you would know what I’m talking about, would you? Never mind Stanley, rest your head. We can talk more when you’re feeling better, alright?.”
-=-=-=-
The rate at which Bill entered his mind began rapidly increasing, each ‘experience’ lengthening, alarming his brother. They both decided to cut their travel short and return to land as soon as possible. Still, that was easier said than done when you’re in the middle of the ocean, they were still miles from the nearest shore.
“It’s definitely him, Poindexter. He’s still in there, somehow. Clinging on like some nasty little infection.” He said tapping his forehead harshly before clutching his chest. He anxiously paced the deck as Ford processed the details of his latest visitation.
“It just doesn’t make any sense, I thought we destroyed him.”
“So you keep saying! And yet here the little jerk is! What are we going to do about it?”
“Short of brain surgery, I’m not entirely sure.” Ford confessed with a sigh.
“Oh hell no! I saw what you did to the toaster, you stay well away from my brain!”
The scientist stood up to defend himself, wrapping his thick jacket tight around his chest in the ocean’s harsh winds. “I fixed the toaster!!”
“Yeah! AFTER you made the damn thing burst into flames!!”
The pair stood glaring across the boat at each other before Stanley gave in, a hand ran along his scalp, the wind blowing the hair right back into his eyes seconds later. Every argument pained him, each time his blood pressure spiked, each time Ford corrected his grammar and nit-picked, it only reminded him that barely a year ago he would have given ANYTHING to hear the man’s voice at all.
“-Look, I-I’m sorry Six- it’s this damn triangle’s fault, ya’know? It’s stressing me out.”
Ford scoffed with an easy smile, he broke the distance between them, laying a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Trust me if there’s anyone who could possibly emphasise, you know it’s myself.”
Stanley wrapped his arms tight around his brother’s smaller frame, eyelids squeezing, internally cursing himself for lashing out at the most important man in his life. He felt six fingered hands comfort his shoulders in return, Ford making no effort to shove him off or complain.
“This is what Bill does.” He heard the man sigh into his collar. “He makes you lash out at anyone who could possibly help. The ones you care about the most. It’s easier for him to manipulate you if no-one can stand being around you.”
Clearly he was talking about how he’d pushed away Fiddleford, Stan thought, staring at the horizon, tears still rolling down his cheek. He took a long moment to gather himself, grounded in his brother’s embrace, before pushing him away, gripping him by the upper arms.
“I was in ‘there’ much longer this time. It-it sounded like Bill was -ah, I dunno- bickering with someone. Not anyone I could see besides him.”
“You told me he was taunting you, this time. About the fact that you could see him? Do you remember his precise words?” Ford asked with the eager determined look in his eyes which he always had when investigating a new mystery.
“Uh, he said something like: ‘wait shut up, I think he can see me now! That must be the right one, turn it up higher!’ and then he got closer, like he was following my line of sight, and said: ‘well, well, well. Stanley Pines, aren’t you a sight for sore eye!’”
“’the right one’… so his henchmaniacs are assisting him?”
“Or some other goons he found down in hell.” Stan groaned, rubbing his head. Just recalling the visitation hurt to think about. It shot across his cranium like a bolt of electricity. “Maybe this time he found some squares.”
Sixer chuckled. “Perhaps. You mentioned arguing back? Could you- could you touch him?”
“Touch him?” Every pore in his body shivered with disgust. “Why would I want to touch him?”
“Well… each time that this happens, you tell me there are more sensations. Extra senses, the smell, the details of your surroundings. At first it was all… ‘psychedelic’, now you say it’s photorealistic, that your skin feels the cool air. It sounds to me like he’s tapping into more and more sensory parts of your brain. What we really need to find out, is if he can feel you as well.”
He hugged his chest tight, stepping back. “What does that matter?”
“It can help us locate the precise parts of the brain that Bill is accessing, I need to record every detail I can, it might not mean much to us, but it could be the answers Fiddleford needs.”
“Alright, alright I’ll try and touch the creepazoid. Happy?”
-=-=-=-
The next time he lost consciousness, Stan was getting the hang of it. He reached out to the side of the boat, pulling himself down so he could black out as safely as possible. As his vision petered out, he caught the blur of his brother’s horrified face rushing down to him.
Blinking back into ‘Bill’s world’, this time finding himself on a ghostly desert island with light blue sand. He knelt down to grasp a handful of the sand, watching as it fell through his fingers. He heard the wail of the wind through the sparse trees and the salt of the ocean in his nostrils. A scowl already on his face, searching around for his tormentor to finally make his presence known.
It must have amused the demon to watch him turn around in circles, searching high and low with the same irritated growl he made when he had lost his pills. Bill laughed in his ears, that low thunder-like buzz that started in the bones of his neck and travelled up to his forehead. The sound echoing off his skull.
“Show yourself, freak!!”
Once Bill had satiated his amusement, he made himself visible. Lounging on a deck chair, wearing a ridiculous single-lensed pair of shades and a bright orange Hawaiian shirt. Before the triangle could say a word to mock him, he ran towards him, remembering his brother’s request.
“Woah! Nice to see you too, old boy! WHAT THE- HEY!!”
Black rubber-hose hands attempted to hold him back as Stan grabbed the shades from his eye and tossed them aside, he then rapidly pulled back his fist before projecting it straight into Bill’s giant exposed eyeball. The moment his fist made contact, Stan fell to his knees. His act of violence now hitting him back with as much force as he had given. Clutching his skull and howling out in agonising pain as the lightning strike burned him, the sounds of Bill screaming as hot as fire inside his mind.
He had bent down against the striped beach chair, clutching his agonising head as the chair tumbled aside. Out of the edge of his vision, he saw Bill backing away from him with horror. He then seemed to stare at invisible beings above his head, turning his head to the side as he screamed orders at them. Through all the pain, he struggled to make out every word, reluctantly releasing his hands from the sides of his skull, lifting his head and eyes to listen in.
“I’m telling you! It’s Sixer, he’s interfering somehow!! Fuck!! -How am I supposed to know, you idiot?!- I don’t CARE- just make it work!! We have one last chance! Hurry up!!”
As if finally remembering that his assaulter was there, he looked back. His black arm cartoonishly extended out close to Stan’s face, and the last thing he saw was the two black fingers snap. And with that he was back on earth, back in reality, his reality. With Ford.
-=-=-=-
Stanley opened his eyes to find himself still laying with his back flat against the Stan-O-War’s deck. Ford was sat cross-legged close beside him, eyes closed, back and neck straight, and his brother’s hand was placed flat against his chest. His lungs seemed to remember that breathing was a requirement for living, making him gasp, shooting his upper body up. Ford’s eyes remained closed for a few more seconds, his mouth mumbling as if he was conversing with some unseen person.
“Six! What are you doing?”
His twin opened his eyes, blinking before fussing over him. “Stanley! Are you okay? What happened this time? What did he do to you?!”
“-he said -you did something, that you were ‘interfering’”
“So it worked?” He seemed just as confused as he was. “Did you- could you touch him?”
“Yeah, I punched the son of a bitch! Right in the eye socket just like before, then he freaked out. Telling these ‘idiot’s they had ‘one last chance’”
“One last chance to what?”
Stanley was about to repeat every word he had managed to hear while he could still remember, but something in his chest suddenly felt heavy, like his heart had dropped. And he had just enough time to let out an expletive before he passed back out. Horrifyingly faster than the time before.
-=-=-=-
“Take me back you jerk!!” He balled his fists, storming back to the over-turned empty beach chair, eyes not bothering to look around this time. He knew Bill would be right where he’d left him.
“Whatever you’re planning on doing, Ford will find a way to stop it! So just give it up already, unless you want another fist in the eye!!” Holding his fist up in the air, ready to prove it.
“-same mistake the time baby made. You can’t reason with it, you gotta make Time your bitch!- Woah- hey, hey, hey it’s working! There HE is!”
Bill appeared in what looked like pixels from one of the arcade games, the pixels rapidly building themselves into reality until the demon was staring close to his face. Seemingly not worried about the large airborne fist ready to plant itself in his face.
“Stanley! Aw, you missed me, but your aim is gettin’ better!! Ahahaha!”
The twin tried to hit him but found his fist frozen in mid-air. The sound of Bill’s voice shattering through his spinal cord, it’s intensity growing with his laughing fit. The demon had clutched what appeared to be his stomach, throwing his ‘head’ back, by tilting his hat.
He couldn’t even open his mouth to tell him to go ‘fuck himself’’, for his whole face and body were frozen too, vocal chords included.
“Stanley, Stanley, Stanley.” Small hands wrapped behind the triangles back as he floated around, circling his frozen form. “Really, getting Sixer to do your dirty work. Tut-tut. What are we gonna do with you?”
Bill may have taken his voice but he could still think, his mind thinking back to Ford’s meditation position, the hand pressed against his heart. All the while Bill’s unblinking eye scanned him carefully.
“I see, I see. Well ain’t ya’ll cute? A little brotherly love, eh? Shame that there’s nothing he can do to help you now. That’s the problem with you humans, you always think you can outwit a GOD.”
‘you’re no god, you’re just some algebra teacher’s fever dream.’ he thought. ‘a piece of undigested cheeseburger, and not even the good kind.’
At that thought, the demon burst into a burning red shade. “YOU TAKE THAT BACK!! I’LL SHOW YOU TO MESS WITH ME, STANLEY PINES!!”
So he could read his thoughts. Neat trick. But he was above other conmen and their tricks. He had been Mr Mystery for more than twenty-five years, there was no outperforming him.
“We’ll see about that.” Bill turned his gaze up to the invisible beings he had been communicating with.
How is he even here? Stanley couldn’t help but think to himself. Quickly scolding himself for thinking something he now knew Bill could hear too.
The golden triangle had returned to it’s normal colour, and after a few seconds of squinting up towards the fake sunny sky, his iris turned back to meet his frozen face.
“Thirty years, two months and seven days.” Came Bill’s cryptic response. “Remember what happened on that day, Fez? Well, do ya?”
Suddenly the demon had split into seven identical versions of himself, all surrounding and staring at him. He felt his body slowly unfreeze, however his shoes remained planted in the sand and his raised fist stayed right where it was. He coughed his vocal chords back to life before spitting out some words.
“Thirty- what are you talking about? TAKE ME BACK!!”
He felt the sound of the multiple Bill’s low muffled laughter shiver through his skin.
“Oh! But that’s precisely what we’re planning on doing.” The Bill’s said in unison. Their forms began to spin around him anti-clockwise and the sky darkened around him.
-=-=-=-
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