Chapter Text
The changing of the seasons brought with it the inconsistency of weather. The storm sounded through the walls of the shack, rain pattering against the windows. The sound became white noise as Ford rubbed at his tired eyes beneath his glasses before refocusing his vision on the notebook in front of him. He had returned from his lab in the basement just before the storm had started and was surprised at how late it had become. Ford took a seat at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee nearby as he had already learned his lesson about Stan’s designated chair and the history of the couch, wondering how mad his brother would be if he were to replace the thing.
The weather remained unpredictable at times with late spring, Ford convincing Stan to stay at the shack for now until the weather calmed down. He had begrudgingly agreed, Soos and Melody excited to welcome them back earlier into the season than usual. During the summer, they would stay at the Mystery Shack, now run by Soos, and spend time with Dipper and Mabel who would visit every summer. They had been adamant on visiting for five years now, a sentiment that went both ways.
Ford realized they were due to visit in a few weeks, thinking that it would probably be best to brainstorm some ideas to keep them occupied. With the twins now older, they tended to attract less trouble, a bit more seasoned with the supernatural in Gravity Falls and knowledgeable of any potential dangers. Ford smiled to himself fondly at how Dipper would always insist on accompanying him on his own research expeditions. Now he had no need to convince him, having proven himself ever since Weirdmageddon. Of course, he would always ensure the trips were mostly safe before ever bringing them up to his grand nephew. Stan had given him a good “scolding”, as to put it lightly, after Dipper had come back injured after a trip gone wrong.
Ford was broken out of his thoughts by a thud at the door, barely audible with the rain picking up. He leaned back to peer into the living room, Stan’s seat vacant.
Ford preferred his brother to answer the door usually as most of the visitors who knocked were Stan’s problem- from issues with tax evasion to personal vendettas, he’d rather not be mistaken for his twin and earn an earful. The knocks sounded more like spaced out thumps at the door, as if raising their arm to knock was a struggle. The sound made Ford’s hair raise, instincts kicking in. He shook his head, reasoning if it were a threat, they would simply break into a window instead rather than take the time to knock.
Ford finally stood, slowly approaching the door, ready to attack if the other were some threat- supernatural or not. Seriously- how did Stan manage to make that many people hate him? Then again, it wasn’t unusual to approach an anomaly either, especially with his increased visits into the woods.
He unlocked the door, opening it slowly, confused before looking down. An uneven trail of blood on the muddy path and a man on the ground greeted him. Ford' s eyes widened, immediately kneeling down to inspect him, having fallen awkwardly onto his front. He carefully pushed his shoulder forward so that he could be on his back.
The man looked middle-aged, a few gray streaks running through his golden brown hair, now appearing darker from the rain and a bad looking head injury, blood having run down his face. His hand had been placed over his side while his leg had a large gash, twisted at an unnatural angle. Other cuts were visible on his face and hands. Ford looked up and around, trying to figure out where the man had come from and if there was a potential threat nearby. From the looks of it, he mustn't have come from far considering the severity of his injuries. With the closest hospital over an hour away, he opted to at least put his survival medical skills to use before a long drive.
He dragged him through the doorway, lifting him from beneath the arms and onto the couch, not wanting to further any of his injuries. He checked his pulse and breathing, finding it weak, his breath more akin to wheezing. He then entered the kitchen to grab the first-aid kit stashed there. The extensive supplies had come from a paranoid Ford after a few too many injuries from the twins and their aptitude for trouble.
He wiped away the blood, still flowing as he found the wound, applying gentle pressure with some gauze. With his other hand, he lifted his shirt, assessing the damage. There was no visible blood, but he knew from the extensive bruising, he had more than a few broken ribs.
Looking down at his leg, he grimaced at the sight. Securing the gauze to the man’s head injury, careful not to jostle him, he proceeded downward.
It was obviously broken, bone visible with a large gash on his outer lower thigh. With equal care, he patched up the less severe injury, assessing his work. Small glass shards were stuck in the man’s arms and legs, the rain almost washing away the smell of smoke. Despite his injuries indicative of a car accident, no car had been visible in the area.
With a sigh, he realized he would eventually have to get the man real medical care. His breathing evened out before he figured he would call for him, remembering the phone in the other room. He nearly ran into Stan on the way over, having come in through the side door.
“What’s got you in a hurry,” he joked before catching a glance behind him and the man on the couch. His expression turned into a grimace, brows furrowed.
“Please don’t tell me he’s dead,” Stan managed to speak, focus drifting back to Ford.
“No, not yet,” he spoke, voice slightly tilted with the idea of having accidentally killed a man in his family’s home.
He brushed past him, heading towards the phone set on the table.
“Going to call for him since there’s nothing we can do for a compound fracture. I’d rather not make it worse,” Ford spoke a bit hurriedly, picking up the phone.
“A compound what?” Stan interrupted, voice raising to be heard from the other room.
Ford halted his actions, phone still in hand.
“Fracture, his leg is broken- badly,” he added, trying to remember how to dial on Stan’s rotary phone. He had barely touched it even when he lived here himself.
“His leg looks fine to me,” Stan replied from the other room.
Irritated and confused, Ford set the phone down on the receiver, entering the room he had left the stranger, Stan now in front of him, looking down at his leg.
“What do you mean, you can literally see his-,” he spoke, stepping to Stan’s side before trailing off, looking at where the injury was.
The man’s leg was in its proper position, only a gash where the break had been. An uneasy feeling filled his gut, looking up at Stan now. His expression must have given away his worry, Stan’s confusion leading to concerned worry.
“What did you drag into the house, Sixer.”
Against his better judgment, Ford had removed the gauze on the man’s leg, checking the injury. Despite the blood, the large gash was now half of its size since the past 20 minutes, only solidifying the idea both of them had in mind.
“We should probably just toss him back outside,” Stan spoke up, still studying the unconscious man on the couch from a safe distance.
“I’d rather not risk accidentally killing a man on the property,” Ford replied with an even voice before joining him a few paces back.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he rubbed his chin, brows furrowed. “I’d assume if it were a true danger, it would have already attacked us. It knocked on the door to get in rather than breaking in,” Ford rambled, lost in thought as Stan turned to glare at him.
“You let that thing in?” He spoke with an edge to his voice, attention fully on the other now.
“It was passed out bleeding at the front door! What was I supposed to do?” Ford turned to face him, voice raised in response.
“Probably wouldn’t have this problem if you stopped galavanting in the woods! Likely pissed something off out there!” Stand argued back.
“Honestly, there’s no need to-” Ford began before the door opened once more, Melody stepping inside before Soos followed next. They both stared wide eyed at the couple who in turn looked back before glancing at the couch, eyes widening at the bloodstains.
“I can explain, he-”
“Poindexter brought something inside that he shouldn’t have,” Stan cut him off with a stern glare. “But don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” he cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders, preparing to grab the stranger and throw him out the door where he came from.
Ford went to stop him, protesting as Stan brushed past him before Melody approached, stopping Stan with a hand on his elbow. She gazed down at the man, face seemingly more relaxed as if he had merely fallen asleep.
Melody had moved in with Soos after he had taken over the Mystery Shack. They had gotten married a year later, being the perfect team to run the place. In the end, they both called the shots with Stan away. That being mostly Melody as Soos was often too nervous or unwilling to correct Stan about anything. Like when he complained about the amount of baby-proofing Soos had done around the shack recently in preparation for their first kid. Melody had cut his complaints short with a simple glare.
“Let’s just kick him out after he wakes up,” she reasoned, looking up at Stan and his brother nearby.
“Also, I have his wallet,” she motioned, flipping it open to find his ID.
“Soos, you’re a lucky man,” Stan spoke, anger fizzling out as they both studied the wallet’s contents.
The ID showed a man with dark brown hair, gray eyes, and a tanned complexion, his age being just a few years younger than the older twins. Ford glanced over at it before back up at their mystery guest. He kneeled next to the couch, opening one of the man’s eyes before frowning, finding that he was missing an eye. He couldn’t remember if he had a face injury beforehand with the amount of blood dripping down his face. Moving onto his left eye, he shone a light into it, watching the almost golden iris shine with it, his round pupil constrict unnaturally into a slit, much like a cat’s. This only deepened Ford’s frown, about to pull away before the man beneath him gasped for breath, immediately shooting up and hitting the man above him in the head. Ford fell back, wincing as he held the spot on his forehead he had just met skulls with. The man hissed through his teeth, rubbing his own forehead before slowly sitting up, a bit dazed. His one eye roamed the room before settling on Ford in front of him and looked away. He promptly fell back, letting out a strained laugh.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he spoke to himself, sucking in air again as he looked at the ceiling, pointedly avoiding their confused looks. His voice was nasally, audibly gravelly from a previous strain. His hair was damp now, appearing a muddy blonde, shorter than that in his ID and mussed from rain and blood. The stranger finally, slowly looked down at Ford, still sitting on the ground with a wary expression. They stared at each other for a few moments before a dawning horror filled Ford, scrambling back.
“No,” he shook, still on the ground but now a good distance away from the guest. He reached for his holster on his side, cursing as he remembered it wasn’t on him since he had been in the lab all day. He silently prayed that twin telepathy was real in that moment. Stan looked down at him in surprise before making eye contact with the familiar stranger. His face turned to one of anger with silent recognition, motioning Melody to step back as she confusedly watched the scene in front of her.
“You have some nerve showing up here,” he spoke darkly, already pushing his sleeves up.
The man’s golden eye widened in fear, scrambling to get away, attempting to leap over the arm of the couch before Stan yanked his leg. He shouted in pain, trying to claw away as he yelled at him to stop. He managed to dodge two punches to the face before one landed, lifting his arms to shield from the ongoing attacks.
“STOP!” Melody shouted, a volume never heard before from the woman, surprising Stan enough to stop for a moment, looking back.
“I don’t know what’s happening, but you will not beat a man to death in the house,” she glared at Stan, the man shrinking slightly.
“Now, we bought some furniture for the baby, and it would be very generous if someone could help Soos get it from the car,” she spoke lightly, the hidden finality not unheard.
Stan mumbled something along the lines of, “I’m not dealing with this,” and headed out to help Soos who had also retreated outside. The rain had let up, leaving the outside damp and humid.
Ford still remained sat on the ground, eyes glued to the man now also on the floor, panting for air, shock evident on his features.
“Stupid, stupid, Stupid Lizard!” he pounded a fist down onto the ground, seemingly speaking to the ceiling, sitting up to hold his head in his hands.
Ford still watched with wide eyes, slowly morphing into cold anger.
“Bill, I don’t know why you’re here or why you took that poor man’s body, but just know, there’s no way you’ll be starting anything you had in mind,” Ford spoke coldly, now on his feet and glaring down at the demon.
“ ‘Start’?, there is nothing to start, Sixer! Therapy Learning, that dumb axolotl has no idea what he’s talking about you know, just my luck!” he seemed to be rambling, fits of half laughing- half wheezing as if he couldn’t breath. He moved to stand before being kicked over again, pinned beneath Ford’s boot.
He pressed down, causing Bill to hiss as he tried to get away.
“Listen to me! You’re not going anywhere until you spill why you’re here! No chance in hell that I’d let you roam free,” Ford spoke, leaning down to meet Bill’s widened eye, as if he had forgotten the other twin was there.
“There is nothing! ” He yelled, meeting Ford’s glare, breathing heavily in anger.
“I should just kill you now,” Ford muttered, wishing he had his weapon on him.
“Yeah! Do that! Maybe I’ll be free of this meat sack!” Bill challenged.
Ford turned at the sound of the door opening again, this time with Soos and Ford carrying in boxes with furniture kits, one for a crib and one for a high-chair. The boxes were obnoxiously large, as to why Melody wanted someone else to help as she was in no state to be doing any heavy lifting.
Stan held a sour expression, his frown deepening in silent ire as he looked down at Bill. Melody followed in, thanking them before looking over at Ford, still pinning the demon down on the ground.
At her confused expression, he started, “Melody, he’s dangerous, but he’s even more dangerous wandering about. I can contain him in my bunker until we figure out what to do with him,” he glared down at him again.
“Why don’t we just keep him here for now?” She spoke with a question in her voice. “Easier to keep an eye on him,” she offered, looking over to Soos who had a worried expression.
“If you think I’d let that evil-fuck live under that same roof as me, you’re wrong,” Stan spoke before Melody furrowed her eyes in thought. Her stomach rumbled loudly in the quiet room.
“How about we have dinner first and then figure this out. I’d rather not have another death match in the living room,” she spoke, following Soos who was grateful to escape towards the kitchen, insisting on helping with dinner. Hushed voices could be heard as they worked. Stan rejoined Ford as he removed his foot, causing Bill to scramble backwards before his back hit the couch.
“Why are you here,” Ford began again, anger still simmering, not wanting to alert the couple in the other room of another fight.
“Because the universe wanted a sick joke, Sixer,” he flatly replied, hoisting himself up with visible effort onto the couch, still looking crumpled and disheveled.
Ford led a begrudging Stan away, keeping a close eye on the demon on the couch.
“Stanley, we both agree he should be gone. Believe me, I want to kill the sick bastard as much as you do,” he spoke in a hushed voice, aware that it didn’t truly matter if Bill heard.
“Yeah, how about after dinner,” he replied quickly, squinting over.
Ford let out a pained sigh, meeting Stan’s glare.
“He mentioned being trapped here. He also mentioned that if I were to kill him, he might be ‘freed’ from whatever is containing him,” he added, watching the gears turn in Stan’s head.
“Oh no, no,” Stan bit out, now glaring directly at Ford, having already had a hunch as to what he was leading on, voice raising.
“No, absolutely not,” he backed up, fully facing his brother.
“You think I want to do this?” Ford retorted, voice raising as well.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care! But you are not allowing that bastard to be running around here!” Stan replied, arms motioning angrily to the man pretending to ignore the loud conversation, now turned argument.
“We just need to figure out how to get rid of him and I’ll deal with it, alright?” Ford managed to keep an even voice, pleading with his brother.
“You’re not doing this alone, Poindexter, no matter how smart you think you are,” Stan replied sternly, voicing it like an insult, but the two knew better. Stan had had a stern conversation on the Stan O’ War II about Ford’s streak of dealing with problems all by himself. He had argued that that was what led to Bill and the portal, a harsh truth Ford struggled to accept. He begrudgingly agreed, Stan pulling him into a rare hug, adamant that he didn’t want to worry about losing him again. Similarly, he voiced it like it was an inconvenience, but Ford knew better now.
Ford tightly nodded, avoiding Stan’s gaze before he clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“I still want to beat the bastard, you didn’t say I couldn’t not kill him,” he smiled, walking away.
“Stan-” Ford started before being cut off.
“I know, I know, not right now,” he stepped away, heading towards the kitchen where Soos was setting up the table.
Ford returned his attention to Bill, who was still staring off at nothing with an unreadable expression. He was debating what to do with him before Melody walked into the living room.
“Dinner’s ready, we made extra for our guest,” she smiled, looking over at Bill who finally snapped out of his trance, genuine surprise in his features.
Ford was about to argue before realizing it was better than leaving him out here to potentially run away. Bill looked completely out of his element as he attempted to stand, nearly falling over as he tripped. Melody caught him with steady hands, making Ford bristle before she led him towards the kitchen.
“You look pretty banged up, take it easy,” she spoke softly, eyeing the blood and bandages still on him.
“Have a rough night?” she joked as they approached the table.
“Something like that,” he replied stiltedly, slowly attaining his foothold and walking a bit more steadily.
Dinner was tense, silent all around as Bill stared off distantly again, not touching his food while the twins remained equally quiet.
Stan chewed silently, avoiding looking at Bill and Ford simultaneously, quickly finishing his plate. He proceeded to leave the table in record time, heading to his room judging by the creak of floorboards down the hallway. Melody’s attention turned to Bill, brows furrowing before looking to Ford with a soft expression.
“She knows, I told her,” Soos whispered loudly, avoiding looking at either of them as he stood up to remove everyone’s plate, leaving Bill’s behind.
“Ironically, I was here for the um-” she trailed off clearing her throat before looking at Ford again. “So, I am aware, however, based on what I’ve assessed,” she said, fixing him with an unsteady look. “I still think he should stay in here,” she finished, aware Ford would most likely argue and preparing herself for it. It made him wonder if she had spoken to Stan outside about the matter. She leaned closer, eyeing Bill before replying in a hushed voice.
“You can chain him to the couch if you’re worried, but we would definitely know if he ran into town,” she assured him, Ford mulling it over in his mind.
It was true, the only point of civilization was the town and everyone knew the residents within it. A stranger looking like he got hit by a bus would definitely stand out, especially during the off season.
Ford finally nodded with a defeated sigh.
“I suppose so,” he glanced at Bill again, who appeared to be attempting to chew his food only now, squinting down at it curiously. He had been provided a plastic spork most likely found at the bottom of one of the drawers.
“I’m hoping it won’t be too much trouble to watch him for a few minutes while I fetch something to restrain him from my lab. I don’t trust him down there ‘nor outside,” he spoke, looking between Melody and Soos.
“If anything, Stanley will definitely make sure he doesn’t step out of line,” Ford replied, looking over to find Bill’s plate miraculously clean. Soos removed Bill’s plate and utensil, his one eye following him into the kitchen with an unreadable expression. Ford stood, stepping out and into his lab in the basement. He was grateful he still had all of his safety precautions in place after the incident five years ago that had basically wrecked the shack.
He sighed in exasperation, this was going to be a long summer.