Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Mr. Pines, this needs to be taken seriously.” The doctor says, solemn as all hell. Stan scrubs the back of his hand against his nose and leans back in the rickety plastic chair.

“Yeah, yeah, I am serious. As a heart attack.” He waves the doctor off. There isn’t time for this shit. He’s gotta figure out a power source for the portal, seeing as his previous attempts to power up the core have been less than successful. He’s close though. Whatever he ends up using is bound to have a fuck ton of radiation, so he’ll have to figure out how to deal with that. As soon as this doctor quits yapping.

“Yet you've been neglecting to take your hypertension medication as well, it seems.” Dr. Moreno says without sparing a drop of her irritation. Now that gets a rise out of him.

“I take’em! Most days!” He huffs, folding his arms over his chest. “That shit’s expensive, I need to make it last.”

“That’s not how—!”

“You quacks all make a big deal outta nothin’.” Interrupts Stan. “I wouldn't even be here if my nosey employee hadn'ta caught me nappin’ on the job.”

“Mr. Pines. Over my entire time at this practice, I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen you.” She says very seriously. Stanley rolls his eyes. “The only reason you came in today was because Mr. Ramirez forced you to this follow up visit after he found you unconscious in your office.”

“Damn kid needs to learn when to mind his business.” It wasn’t like he wanted to freak out Soos that day. He had just stood up too fast from his chair and–... Well, he woke up later to the kid shaking his shoulder and looking like he was about to burst into tears. That had been awful. The kid wouldn’t leave his side until he agreed to go to the doctor, and this led to that. Now he’s here being scolded by a doctor half his age.

“Clearly, he cares about you! He's worried and so am I.”

“Look, I'm too old for this cushy bedside manner shit. Quit pussyfootin’ around hit me with the news. I got eight days to live or somethin?” He means it as a joke, but the hard line of his doctor’s mouth tells him that maybe, just maybe this isn't the time.

“Stanford, the results from your biopsy indicated abnormal cell growth through your entire lower digestive system, extending nearly up to your stomach.” She shows him a sheet of paper, but he can’t read a thing. “Had we caught it earlier when you started experiencing symptoms, we might have been able to do something, but at this stage it's progressed to a point where it’s inoperable. The most we can do is put you on some medications to lessen your discomfort and improve your quality of life for a period of time.”

“Well, shit.” Stanley feels odd. He’s light headed in a way, almost like he’s high. It’s not as fun though. He isn’t 20 years old doing a bump of coke to get through the next hour of door to door sales. “I feel fine! I'm still doin’ tours, doin’ my work around the house! It ain’t like I'm dying!”

“Except you are, Stanford.” He hates hearing her say his brother’s name in this situation. If it were Ford here, dying–... he doesn’t even know what he’d do. His genius brother could probably figure out a cure before Stan had the chance to spell out ‘chemotherapy’.

But Stanford isn't here. Not yet.

“At this rate, I can only confidently give you another year at most. And that's if you follow my advice and make a considerable amount of lifestyle changes.”

Stanley feels his heart in his throat. A year? A year to finish the portal and get his brother back? Can he do it? He has to. There's no other choice. Failing Ford once again simply isn't an option. If he dies before Stanford is back then all these years working his ass off would have been a waste. Worthless. Just like he has always been.

“Well… guess I'm on a time crunch then.” He rises from the awful plastic hospital chair, its creaking and groaning loud as a scream in the quiet room. “Best if I get back to work.”

“Mr. Pines! Sit down!” Dr. Moreno calls after him.

“I've done enough sittin’ around, I've got shit to do!” He growls as he opens the door, then lowers his voice a bit. “And apparently a time limit.”

“Whatever work you've got to do couldn't possibly be worth more than your life!” The doctor moves to follow after him, but is stopped by the old man’s weary sigh.

“Kid…” Stanley looks back at her, feeling so much older than he’s ever been. “This work might be about the only worthwhile thing I've ever done with my life.”

“Mr. Pines! Mr. Pines!” The doctor keeps calling after him, but Stanley isn’t listening.

He arrives back at the cabin in a daze, heart is thrumming rapidly in his chest. How much longer will his shitty body last? The portal still isn't ready. Stan still hasn’t fixed his mistakes. Dying isn’t an option!

Not until he gets his brother back.

“Back to fuckin’ work, I guess.” He mutters to the kitchen, empty save for a bag of prescriptions he picked up on his way back. They feel like a waste. They certainly weren't cheap, but if he’s going to bring his brother back, he needs to at least keep functioning for a little while longer. But if he just works harder, maybe cutting down on tours–

The phone rings. It’s the home phone, not his Mystery Shack business number. Not something ‘Stanford’ can ignore.

“Whaddaya want?” He snaps, knowing the few people who have this line are not any he wants to talk to right now.

“Hey, Uncle Stanford.” It’s Matthew, Shermie’s son. He sounds tired. With a sigh, Stan leans against the wall. It feels cool against his skin. “I know it's been a little while, but I have a favor to ask of you…”

Chapter Text

It’s been four months since Stanley had gotten his diagnosis. And you know what? He thinks that bastard doctor must have been lying. Because he feels fine. Hell, he’s even stopped having to wear the damn girdle since he’s lost a bit of weight, not to mention it was really screwing with his guts. Even with the kids here for the summer, his work on the portal has hardly slowed down. And sure, his head fucking hurts and so does his back and stomach, but when hasn’t it? So what if sometimes his vision goes gray around the edges when he stands up and his head gets stuffed with cotton. It always clears away after a while. And okay, he’s shitting blood and mucus in clumps, but... Well, it's just nasty old people things, really. He's fine. It's fine.

Stan can handle it, he has to. He’s certainly been through worse and made it out the other side. There’s no stopping now that he’s getting close, he can feel it. If only he had that last damn journal.

But that can wait. Because right now, he has two little brats running around town with chaos seemingly always on hot on their trail. As much as he hates to admit it, those kids are about the only reason he’s had enough energy to keep going like he is. They’re charming, if a hell of a lot of trouble. Dipper is an anxious kid, but more than smart enough to get himself out of all the trouble he gets into. Most of the time at least. He’s always wanting to prove himself, a feeling Stan knows like the back of his hand. And Mabel? With all her unbriddled joy and energy, he can’t help but be reminded of being pulled along the beach by his rambling twin.

God, he misses his brother. The kids remind him so much of his long past childhood that it aches in his chest. He needs Ford to be home. He needs his brother.

And he needs these kids not to fall into the same dangers his brother did. Nothing reminds him more of that than almost losing everything to that evil toddler Gideon. If Stan had lost the shack for good, well, it was just another road block. He’dve sent the twins home and turned back to his old habit of B&E. But that didn’t happen. The kids are safe. The shack is back in his hands. And the portal… Still looms below. Everything is fine, more or less.

“Uh, you kiddos settlin' back in okay?” He asks exhaustedly, glad to be back in his own space.

“Yep!” Beams Mabel. “All of my favorite moldy spots on the ceiling are still there! Even you, Daryl.”

“Hey, Grunkle Stan,” Uh oh, Dipper has that look. The one where he starts sweating and seems like he might start to gag like a cat. “Me and Mabel have been talking, and I think there's something we should finally tell you.”

He feels his stomach drop. They must want to leave. They surely have had enough of his piss poor management of the dangers of this town and are finally making the smart choice. It would be better for them, safer. Then the boy pulls something out and for a moment, Stan’s brain won’t even register exactly what it is.

“This is a journal I found in the woods.”

It can’t be.

He can’t breathe. Grey creeps into the edges of his vision as his heart pounds like an oncoming train. This whole time, the third journal had been right here? And more than that, it was the cause of so much of the trouble the kids had been getting into. All of this research was incredibly dangerous and Dipper had been following it around like some kind of adventure guide! Stan feels sick, dizzy.

“Grunkle Stan?” He blinks once. Twice. The twins' hazy figures stand before him, feeling like a ten story drop below.

“Hah!” He coughs out weakly, trying to shake himself back into clarity. “Now I know where you've been getting it all from! Spookums and monsters.” Can they hear him lying? Can they hear his voice shake? He needs to get away. He needs to bring this down to the other journals.

Dipper begs and pleads for Stan to believe him. And while he hates to see the boy disappointed like this, he can’t just let this go. Finally. Finally, he has all three journals. Success is so close he can taste it. Though, success apparently tastes like salt and iron. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except that he can finish the portal now. Simple, just a few more pieces to go. Now this, this is what a real high feels like. Adrenaline pumps through his veins better than a bump of cocaine.

Of course it would be powered by nuclear waste! It’s so obvious. It’s been a long time since he’s pulled a real heist like this, but theft? Now this is his wheelhouse. Certainly more than quantum mechanics and alien technology. Soon, he’ll have everything he needs and then it will just be a matter of days before his brother will be home!

Stanford will be back.

And Stanley can finally–... well, he can finally rest.

—

A few days later, everything goes wrong.

Well, not wrong. He got Ford back! Maybe it didn’t go quite as smoothly as he’d hoped, but when did anything in his life ever go as planned? Stanford is back. That’s what matters. Everything he’s worked for has finally paid off. But it seems like peace was mostly a pipe dream. And Stan certainly had practice in facing the reality of those.

“You look like Pa.” It's a joke, but Stan feels a little sick for it.

“Ugh, don't say that!” He forces out a laugh, jabbing his twin with his elbow. When was the last time Ford had seen their father? Neither of them had been there when the man finally kicked it. Filbrick had been as mean and stoic as ever until the day he died, even when he was hunched and old, barely able to maintain the shop. It was a relief when he passed. Maybe he should have felt guilty. Maybe he should have attended the funeral, but he didn't. Rather, Stanford didn't. Instead he watched from a distance as Shermie helped their Ma move into a care home, where she remained sharp as a whip until the day she died.

Their parents. They weren't perfect or even particularly good parents, but they were family. And they were just another thing he stole from Stanford apparently.

“When the summer's over, you give me my house back, you give me my name back, and this Mystery Shack junk is over forever. You got it?” Ford wants everything back. Of course he does. It made sense. But it still hurts. It still simmers angrily beneath his skin.

“You’re still not gonna thank me?” Stan asks bitterly, not looking back from his place on the stairs. On one hand, he knows Ford owes him nothing, not after Stan has ruined his life twice now. On the other hand, he's furious that his brother won't even acknowledge all that he's done. The decades of work he put into saving his family.

But apparently, Stan's body is plenty ready to acknowledge its suffering even if his brother was not. When he wakes up the next morning, his back aches, as does his head. His gut cramps something fierce any time he moves. Oh and his shits are rank and bloody. That wasn’t anything new. But for some reason it feels heavier than before, everything does. God, he hates this. He’s just so damn tired of everything. So damn tired of living. Luckily, the kids' presence these past couple months has livened him up a bit, but he feels it all weighing on him again. The overwhelming feeling of ‘I want to go home’ plagues him during the day. He hasn’t felt that one in a long time and now it’s just more irritating than anything else.

Luckily, the shack is still closed for repairs and he has a break from tours. Normally, he’d hire someone to do the big tasks then enlist Soos and Wendy to help him fix the rest, but right now, he just doesn’t have it in him. Thank Moses for gullible insurance adjusters. Though, it's not like he’ll need the money much longer anyways. There will be plenty left in his savings for his brother to figure out what the hell he’s doing after the shack is closed for good.

Part of him wonders why he’s even bothering with repairs. In a few weeks, this will all be gone for good. But it would certainly upset the kids if he didn’t keep up business as usual, as well as Soos and Wendy. And maybe, just maybe, he just wants to pretend everything is fine while he still can.

It’s a perfect lazy Tuesday. At least, that's what Mabel calls it as she downs an entire pack of cheesy snacks. Honestly, this is just what he needs. A day to do nothing. No work on the portal, no running from his debts. Just sitting here in his, well, Ford’s home while he still can. Who could blame him for savoring it while it lasts? This place has been his home longer than anywhere else in his life, save for his car of course. He’ll miss it, but at least he won't have to miss it for long.

Then BANG! The kids scream as the basement door slams open.

“Everyone get down!” Shouts Ford. But Stanley can only manage to roll his eyes. He watches as his brother and the kids run around the room yelling and screaming at the weird green octopus thing that looks about as troublesome as the raccoons he deals with in his trash.

He barely says a word to his brother as Ford deals with the gross little thing, just commenting on its disgusting smell on his way out.

“Great Uncle Ford!” Dipper begins chasing after him, much to Stan’s dismay. “I’ve read all about these in your journal and I think–”

Ford shuts him down point blank. That pisses him off. Can’t he even hear the kid out? He never used to be like that when they were younger. Sure, Stanford definitely got caught up in his own head a lot, but he never shot Stanley down like that when he had an idea. Then again, maybe that’s exactly the reason why he’s like this now. He learned his lesson trusting Stanley with anything. Now Stan knows better too.

“My brother is a dangerous know-it-all and the stuff he’s dealing with is even worse!” He huffs, feeling exhausted from just this little bit of excitement. “Do yourself a favor and stay away from him, you hear me?”

The last thing he wants is for the kids to get into more trouble. And besides, Stanley knows Ford doesn’t exactly see him in a positive light. He doesn’t want his brother’s opinions of him pushed onto Dipper, when the kid already knows he’s a liar and a crook. It’s not fair that the moment Ford arrives, the kid is enchanted. Stan is the one who’d been taking care of them this whole time. Why does Ford get to arrive with his stupid super hero entrance and take all the spotlight. It pisses him off. But the truth is, he really likes his niblings and he’d like to leave them with a decent impression of him in their minds. There’s just so few family he has left to remember him.

Luckily, Mabel seems to like him plenty and is his best bet of keeping Dipper from realizing how much of a loser Stan really is. Just a few more weeks to go and this whole mess will be over.

For now, he’s just going to take a nap.