And the second part to this story when Fordie explains where he got the red marks on his shoulder mentioned last chapter.

God, why is it so hot? Ford rubbed his sweaty forehead and wished there was some sort of invention to relinquish the immense heat in Gravity Falls.

And, of course, when an invention had conveniently been there to solve whatever problem Dipper and Mabel were in, there wasn't now.

"Hey, Sixer," Stanley greeted as he walked into the porch. "Any better out here?"

"No," Ford replied, shaking his head.

"Really? Kinda seems like it. Maybe it's cause you never take off that sweater." His brother sat on the rocking chair opposite Ford.

The sweater he was currently wearing he had gotten in the multiverse, at a bazaar of some sort on a dusty planet with a mix of human and alien races alike.

"This sweater was made to keep in body heat when it gets cold, and cool you down when it's hot," Ford said. "Obviously, the ones who made it have never encountered Gravity Falls."

Stan grunted and Ford felt like he needed to explain. "The people who gave it to me made the best armor around," he said, picking at the red material. "It self-cleans, never rips, can sustain most attacks including physical and magical, and maintain a constant comfortable body temperature. It's the best thing I've gotten from my travels. It even fits anyone who puts it on perfectly. Self-sizing."

Stanley didn't say anything.

"But it's not working here," Ford said. "Maybe it's just not made for Earth."

"Why don't ya take it off, then?"

Ford shrugged, dropping the subject, but really he knew why. He ran a hand unconsciously over his arm, feeling the bumps and rivets that marred his skin. His scars were the only reason he hadn't taken it off since he'd gotten here, and even when he'd gotten it he only took it off a few times.

Maybe it would be cooler in the Lab. He stood up. "I've got a lot of stuff to work on," he said. "See you later."

Minutes later he regretted his decision. It wasn't any better than anywhere else in the house, and if he turned on the fan it only succeeded in blowing the hot air around.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to take it off, Ford thought. Stanley's opened up shop by now; no-one's gonna be down here for a while.

He sighed. Fine, he said to himself, although he really didn't know who he was arguing with. He shed his sweater and relished in the sudden absence of heat. The fan even seemed to help now, so he put his sweater on his desk and got to work, trying to ignore the red marks scattered across his body.

"Hey, Pointdexter, I brought ya some din-" Stanley stopped in his tracks as he saw his brother's body.

"Hmm?" Ford said distracted, engrossed in a strange-looking object that Stan couldn't identify.

"S-Stanford... What happened?" Stanley set down the plate of hot dogs and beans on the desk and walked over to the examination table.

Ford finally looked up from his experiment and saw a Stan, looking horrified at him. Ford realized instantly, and made a grab for his sweater, but only managed to expose himself more.

"Ford... Where did you get all these?" Stanley asked, unable to take his eyes away from the mark that marred his brother's skin.

"It- It's nothing. I'm fine, see? It's-"

"How did you get these? Why didn't you tell me?" Stanley interrupted. He reached out to touch a jagged line going from his shoulder to his elbow, but stopped at the last second. "...Sorry."

"Well... because... all the other versions of you I met didn't exactly care... so I thought the original wouldn't either," Ford explained, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"Then I'll beat all the other me's up," Stanley growled. "Of course I care."

Ford chuckled weakly. There was a moment of silence.

"So, care to explain?"

Ford sighed. "Well... t-there's just so many... To be honest I don't even remember how I got them all."

"Then start from where you remember," Stanley demanded.

"...Okay," Ford sighed. "Probably... the earliest ones I can remember are these ones." He pointed to his neck, where the skin was chafed badly and puffy. "I got these from a race that collected other rare races and sold them as slaves. They... locked me up and the collar I had to wear... Well, let's just say it wasn't comfortable. I tried for years to get the thing off-"

"Wait, years?" Stanley asked, horrified. "How long were you with these monsters?"

"...About... Uh, five years? Yeah, five years sounds right. Anyway, nobody bought me, so they took me out to put me down and I escaped then. The collar left scars... and ever since..." He trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air. "And... I might... actually still have it. I'd have to look."

Stanley didn't say anything, but waited for Ford to go on.

"Uhm, next..." He cleared his throat. "I think is this one." He pointed to the circle in his chest. "This I got from a blast to the middle of the chest. I was in a small village, being overrun by wild Pharmalsh. Uh, they had blasters... and I was caught in front of one."

"Why couldn't you just get out of the way?" Stanley asked, trying to hide his discomfort about what he had sent his brother into.

"Because the family I was protecting was defenseless. Unless you count me, but they didn't know I existed until I took that shot for them."

"Why put yourself in danger when others can do that for you?" Stanley asked.

"Because seeing others hurt is not my objective," Ford retorted. "If it happened again, I'd take the shot again."

Stanley shook his head.

"Anyway, I healed properly, thanks to them," Ford smiled a little, obviously stuck in the past. "The little girl who held my hand as she thanked me... I'll never forget that."

Stanley sucked in a deep breath. "Any more?"

"Well, what do you want to hear the story behind?" Ford asked calmly, although inside he was fighting off anxiety.

Stanley looked at him, all around him until he found one on his back that was apparently deemed curious. "What about this one?" He traced it lightly with a finger, and immediately Ford recognized which one he was talking about.

It was a swirl, tiny at most, but nonetheless the way he'd gotten it was still terrifying.

"T-that one.. " Ford's voice shook, but he pushed away the fear. They're gone now.

"Hey, it's okay if you don't want to talk about it," Stanley said. "I'm sorry."

"It's... It's okay," Ford said. "Some... demons- they captured me. I... I don't know how, I was watching... But they did. A-and... when they took me... They branded me. That's a brand. Uhm. It hurt... a lot. And... Then..." He took a deep breath.

"You know what Cipher did to me during the apocalypse... Well, this was worse. A million-thousand-to-the-third-exponent worse. And... they... didn't s-stop... Even when I a-a-asked and p-pl-pleaded... They wouldn't stop... And seemed to take amusement in it... But eventually... They left one day... and they forgot to chain me up... so I ran and r-ran... and I ran... and waited until I could escape the dimension I was in... And I hid until- until I could escape for good."

He heard Stanley gasp in horror at his tale. "I'm... I'm so sorry," he said. "I had no idea."

"It's okay," Ford said, "You couldn't have known."

"It's not okay!" Stan exclaimed. "It's my fault any of this happened to you. I pushed you in!"

"Hey," Ford said. He grabbed Stan's shoulders. "Stop beating yourself up. You didn't know. And besides, they're a part of me. They've helped shape me into who I am... literally. I wouldn't trade any of the experience I've gotten from them for anything. And the people I've helped by getting these scars... I've saved so many of them. Don't worry, Lee. It's not your fault."

"But it is," Stan whispered into his brother's torso. Ford felt a cold wetness and realized Stan was crying.

"But it's not," Ford said. "But I forgive you, if you do blame yourself."

Stanley just shook his head and burrowed further.

"And you know what?" Ford asked. "...Thank you, Stanley."

And they cried together until sleep claimed them.