I'd like to thank Human Customs Still Elude Me for beta reading this story. Couldn't have done this without them!

This story has been finished beforehand, so you can count on a chapter update every Friday.

"Mistakes are the portals of discovery." - James Joyce

CHAPTER 1 – SOMEBODY ONCE TOLD ME

Ford had distanced himself from Stanley in every way possible, but in that moment, the only thing Ford wanted was to stop drifting away.

"Oh no! What do I do?"

Stanley's voice barely registered in Ford's ears. He was much more aware of the circle of white what was growing closer with every second, threatening to eat him alive. The gradual slip toward the portal felt like something out of Ford's nightmares. In seconds, he would be subjected to whatever drove Fiddleford to madness, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. For once, he had no solutions-the only thing he had was the journal in his hands.

"Stanley! Stanley, do something!"

In a last ditch effort, Ford threw the journal. It landed just outside the caution line at Stanley's feet.

Stanley grabbed journal. He looked up at Ford, the light of the portal reflected in his eyes.

The next thing Stanley did was beyond anything Ford could have predicted: he ran and jumped. He caught Ford's foot and held on as they both floated toward the unknown.

The action was enough to snap Ford out of his terror. "Stanley! What are you doing?"

"Something!"

Stanley's hand was tight like a python around Ford's boot as they passed through the haze of the portal.

The smell of burnt hair made Ford gag. The backdrop of this dimension-an assortment made up of acid green, putrid yellow, and Pepto-Bismol pink-swirled together like a purgatory for colors. The zero-gravity made Ford's stomach roll with nausea.

"YOU'RE AHEAD OF SCHEDULE, IQ."

Ford turned his head in the direction of the familiar voice and gasped. Bill Cipher sat on a throne amid his cronies close to them. The yellow triangle was dwarfed by his chair, but that didn't seem to matter to him or any of his goons. Bill's friends sat by his armrests, grinning at Ford and laughing as though this was all a practical joke.

None of it felt real. The creature that had plagued Ford's nightmares was there, meeting him face to face. Ford had nothing to fight with and no idea what to do.

Stanley's face was blank with shock. "Ford, what is that?"

Even if they weren't in the Nightmare Realm, Ford wouldn't know how to explain it all. How could he get Stanley to understand the terror and paranoia he'd lived in, all in fear that this creature would destroy the world while he slept. And it would all be his fault.

"WELCOME TO THE NIGHTMARE REALM. I'D INVITE YOU TO STAY FOR SOME PRIMORDIAL SOUP, BUT YOU'VE TURNED OUT TO BE A POOR INVESTMENT FOR WORLD DOMINATION. SHAME; I HAD BIG PLANS FOR YOU. BUT THERE'S ALWAYS ANOTHER GULLIBLE FOOL. JAZZ-HANDS, DO YOUR THING." Bill snapped his fingers. "DON'T LET HIM ESCAPE." On command, a spider made of two gigantic, hairy hands fused at the wrist pushed off the throne and floated through the void.

In a knee-jerk reaction, Ford kicked his foot free from Stanley's grip. The monster flew through the space between them.

Ford flipped around a few times before he hit a stationary asteroid. Latching onto it, he watched as the hand monster wiggled its fingers at Stanley.

Stanley noticed the monster and yelped, then tried to swim away through the zero-gravity. The monster tried to cage its fingers around him. Stanley kicked the monster's fingers and pushed himself away.

"Hah! Keep your hands to yourself, you creepy monster... thing..." Stanley said.

A white light cut through the air behind Stanley-a tear in the fabric of the universe. It pulsed with energy, threatening to change the course of everything.

Ford reached out a hand, unable to do anything as Stanley drifted closer to the tear.

Stanley turned around too late. He cried out as he disappeared into the glowing rift, vanishing from sight.

Ford hid behind the asteroid before the hand monster turned around. He listened to the laughter of Bill and his friends, his heart pounding. His fingers clawed at the rough texture of the asteroid as he tried to think of a solution.

He could only imagine where the rift had taken Stanley; the possibilities were endless. He could be literally anywhere, he thought, but he's probably safer than I am.

Ford peeked around the asteroid. Bill was still at the throne, but his goons had spread out to look for him.

"COME OUT, SIXER. WE JUST WANNA TALK."

Ford winced at Bill's screaming.

A rift might actually be the only way out. It's not ideal... it could take me anywhere. But if it can get me out of here, I'll do it.

He looked across the shifting colors and found a smaller rip a ways off. It was far, but with a swift kick, Ford was ninety-percent confident he could make it through without being caught. With every second, the tear grew smaller; it would be gone in minutes.

With his jaw set, he waited for Bill's cronies to pass, then pushed off from the asteroid like a torpedo. The monsters shrieked and followed after him.

A creature with enormous jaws flew at him, but before it could bite down, Ford breached the surface of the portal. He floated through the blank space until gravity returned.

He hit the ground on his hands and knees. The rift closed behind him, plunging him into darkness.

Lights came on and illuminated an office area with a long table and rotating seats. A row of photographs was on the far wall; each portrait had unsmiling lips.

"Where... am I?"

"Security breach," said a loud voice. "Conference room 009. Security breach."

Ford ran to the door, but there wasn't a door handle. He ran a hand across its smooth surface, finding nothing that could help him. There wasn't another exit. The best he could do was look for a weapon, but the only thing he could find was a plate of doughnuts on the table. He grimaced and picked up the plate, prepared to attack someone with the saturated fat.

Two guards walked through the door brandishing guns. With a combination of body armor, high-tech weapons, and shiny black masks to conceal their faces, they looked like the least friendly security force Ford had ever encountered.

Both of them fired blue darts at Ford with a synchronized motion. Ford managed to block the darts with the plate of doughnuts. He tossed it at the guards, but they stepped aside, unfazed. The plate shattered against the wall.

One of them pulled out a second, smaller gun and approached Ford.

"Wait, stop!" Ford held up his hands. "This is a misunderstanding. I can explain everything."

The guard that approached lowered his gun as though he was going to say something. Ford dropped his hands, hopeful. As soon as he did, the guard lunged forward and pressed his weapon to Ford's neck. He felt a sharp pain, and then nothing.

{}{}{}{}{}

Ford! Help me!

Ford sat up and gasped, clutching bed sheets. An image of Stanley falling toward the rift clawed at him from beyond sleep.

Wait? Sleep?

With a flash of panic, Ford swung his legs over the bed and grabbed his head. After having sleep as his enemy for weeks, it felt like surrender to snooze even for a second.

How long was I asleep?

The side of his neck stung. He reached for the pain and rubbed; there wasn't any evidence of a wound-just an aching spot.

The portal... Stanley... Did that really happen? Fighting over the journal, getting pushed into the portal... Where am I?

Ford swiveled his head and squinted at the fuzzy, indistinct objects around him. He felt around for his glasses and found them on a nightstand.

For a moment, he wondered if he dreamt the encounter with Bill, but when he put his glasses on, he was met with an unfamiliar room. The bed he was sitting on was empty except for sheets, and the gray walls were bare. It was like a vacant apartment that had only a few essential furniture items.

The base of his skull buzzed, a sign that he was still sleep-deprived. His eyes darted around the room as he looked for potential threats. There was no evidence that Bill had possessed him, and from what the demon said, Ford was no longer a concern of his, but still...

He looked down at his hands and noticed a metal bracelet on his wrist. It didn't seem dangerous, but it made him nervous all the same. Ford poked at the buttons on the complicated device, looking for a way to take it off. It was comfortable-so much so that he wouldn't have noticed it had it not crossed his line of sight.

The guards probably put it on me while I was unconscious. Maybe it's a tracking device.

The bracelet wouldn't budge despite his best efforts. It was clamped firmly around his arm.

I need something to pry it off with. This place could have something useful lying around.

He stood up and peeked into the next room. The door was open, letting him see beyond into an empty, minimalist living room.

Look's safe enough.

As soon as Ford entered the living room, there was a hissing sound, as though someone had opened a giant bottle of soda. He whipped around and grabbed the nearest weapon-a tacky lamp. The door to the apartment slid open.

Standing in the doorway was a man dressed in a suit. Two guards were at his side.

"Hello Stanford," the suited man said. He was distracted by the glowing clipboard in his hands. "Sorry for not knocking." The three of them walked in. The door closed behind them.

Ford backed up, wary.

The suited man looked up from his clipboard with bored, half-lidded eyes. His oily hair was slicked back, and he wore prominent frown lines on his face. "There's no need for violence, sir. You can call me Evanston."

Ford lowered the lamp and blinked, regaining his ability to speak. His questions bumped into each other in a hurry to get out. "What is this place? Where am I? And how do you know my name? What is this thing on my wrist?" He held his hand up.

Evanston breathed in slowly, then listed the answers to his questions in an impatient tone. "It only took a quick scan to identify you as the Stanford Pines from dimension 47'\. As for where you are, this is dimension 83-C. You're on the P.S.S., or the Prometheus Space Station. And the thing around your wrist is a universal translator. Without it, you'd be hearing a different language coming from my mouth. Now, it's my turn to ask the questions. How did you get here?"

Ford was stunned for a moment by the information. Although new questions were threatening to overwhelm him, he put them aside for the time being.

"I was tricked by Bill Cipher into creating an interdimensional portal. I escaped through a rift and appeared here."

Evanston clutched his clipboard tight, as though we wasn't expecting this answer. "You... Bill Cipher... you made an interdimensional portal in a closed dimension?" He swallowed. "Is your portal still operational?"

"No. It closed after I... after I passed through. It's fuel reserves were depleted. It would take an enormous burst of energy to start it again."

Evanston relaxed. He shook his head and covered his face. "If what you say is true, then we were on the brink of disaster." He gave Ford a hard stare. "Just to confirm, you are from a closed dimension-a dimension that doesn't have interdimensional travel. Is that correct?"

Ford nodded. "That's right."

"Then there's a lot you wouldn't know. Bill Cipher is one of the most feared beings in the multiverse. His dimension-the Nightmare Realm-is unstable. It will eventually collapse. I bet that's why he targeted you; he wanted your dimension for his own." Evanston seemed to be talking to himself more than Ford. He typed something into his clipboard. "The U.I.R. cracks down on rogue, unregistered portals because of that ever-present threat. Yours is an unstable disaster that leads directly to the Nightmare Realm. When we send you back to your home dimension, dismantle it."

"You're sending me back home?"

"Yes. You need to speak to Director Gunther first before we do anything, though."

"Director Gunther?"

"He's a part of the U.I.R. council and the one in charge of this station," Evanston said. "In fact, I'd like to take you to him now, if that's possible." He looked Ford up and down, taking in his disheveled appearance. After skipping sleep, showers, meals, and then being thrown into the Nightmare Realm, this was probably the hardest toll Ford's hygiene and sanity had taken.

Ford picked at his wrinkled shirt, suddenly uncomfortable, but there was nothing he could do about it. "Lead the way," he said.

The door opened again with a hiss. "Right this way." Evanston walked into the hall. Ford followed him, and the two guards fell in behind him.

They snaked through a series of corridors. As they came to a catwalk, Ford looked at the scene below with his mouth open.

The ground below was a mess of activity. There were hundreds of computers with monitors in orderly rows, and an employee at each one. The employees in black uniforms and headsets typed away, filling the room with the sound of clicking. Some of them talked, but Ford couldn't make out their conversations.

A purple being with a body like a slug sat at one of the computers, wearing the same uniform as the others. It turned its head, letting Ford catch a glimpse of its strange features; its eyes were golden, and it had tendrils hanging from its mouth. Ford pulled in a breath through his nose.

"What is that creature, and what is it doing here?"

Evanston stopped walking and looked across the workers. "Oh, that's Tilum from the Hydroxean-8 dimension. We could use more like him to keep the alien inclusion activists happy, but change is slow when you're cut off from actual Republic civilization for so long."

A real, living alien... Ford stared at it, breathless. "Can we go down and talk to him? I have so many questions-"

"No," Evanston said. He kept walking, but Ford lingered behind, taking in the unusual scenery.

The most eye-catching part of the room was a blue, holographic rotating planet in the center. It was different from Earth; the surface was mostly covered by oceans with barren clumps of land. Stats and bar graphs that Ford couldn't make out sat next to it, with the name "Vesta" at the bottom of the hologram.

There were several other holograms below, but one in particular caught Ford's attention. It depicted the layout of a cylindrical structure, with boxes ringing the outside. Thousands of yellow dots moved around in the structure, like ants in a farm. To the side, there was title that said Life Count.

Until that moment, it hadn't sunk in that he was on an actual space station. He gripped handrail, feeling faint and giddy at the same time. For years, he wondered what it would be like to travel through space, and now he was there, with aliens.

As he looked over the edge, he noticed an emblem on the floor. The letters U, I and R were printed in bold lettering in the middle of simplified spiral galaxy.

"What do the letters U-I-R stand for?" Ford asked.

Evanston turned to wait for him at the end of the catwalk, his eyebrows pinched together. "The United Interstellar Republic. It's an intergalactic government that's spread over many dimensions. If we can continue, Director Gunther can answer any of your remaining questions."

Ford stepped away from the railing reluctantly and followed Evanston.

They walked down another hallway to a larger door. This one had the U.I.R. symbol spread across it. Evanston placed his thumb on a scanner. The scanner hummed, then beeped as the gigantic door parted in the middle.

Evanston entered the room first, the footfalls of his dress shoes echoing in the cavernous room. The walkway led to a single oversized desk with a plaque that said Director Ralph Gunther on top. A wall-sized window that viewed Vesta sat behind the desk. The planet seemed peaceful, with greenish blue oceans and wispy clouds covering most of its surface.

I'm a long way from home, Ford thought. His mouth went dry as he studied the gold and blue planet. It was as though the office was designed to make him feel small and insignificant; between the unnecessarily large office and the planet framed above, Ford was keenly aware of how much of a speck he was to this new multiverse.

"Mr. Gunther, sir," said Evanston, "Stanford Pines is here."

The black chair behind the desk swiveled to face them. On the other side sat a tall, spindly man wearing an earpiece.

"Ah, Mr. Pines. Please, have a seat." He gestured to the only other seat in the room, which was a small chair right in front of his desk.

Ford sat down. There was a Newton's cradle within Ford's reach, so he set it in motion while he waited for Gunther to finish his earpiece conversation.

"I have another matter to take care of, Amanda," Gunther said. "We'll schedule this later." He pressed his earpiece and rubbed his forehead. "What a fiasco." He leaned forward made a tent with his fingers. His dull, black eyes regarded Ford with interest-a new problem to solve. "Sorry about that. I'm Ralph Gunther, the Director of this place. Evanston, you can leave now." He waved him away.

Evanston stiffened, then nodded, turning away with his guards in tow. Gunther watched them leave before continuing.

"So, I take it your experiment was a success. You've traveled to another dimension. How does it feel?"

"I've felt better," Ford said. "How do you know about my experiment?"

"It's not too hard to figure out. We've had a lot of closed dimensions open themselves up. Usually, it's because a curious scientist wants to push the limits. Am I wrong?"

"No, you're not," Ford said. He cast his eyes down at the shiny black surface of the desk and looked at Gunther's reflection instead of the real thing. It was difficult to look at Gunther for long; his face unnerved Ford. The lights overhead cast his hollow cheeks in shadows, and there was something eerie about the dark circles under his eyes. "Evanston told me that you want to send me back home."

"That's right."

"You can't do that. At least, not yet."

"Why not?"

Ford looked up. "Bill Cipher wants my home dimension and many others for his own. I can't let that happen. Let me go, and I'll find a way to stop him-once and for all."

Gunther laughed. Ford jumped at the harsh sound. It echoed in the spacious room. When the Newton's cradle stopped clacking, Gunther sent it going again. The ends of the cradle snapped.

"Mr. Pines, even if Bill Cipher had a weakness, it's unlikely that one person could do him in. Don't concern yourself with defeating him. He's contained in the Nightmare Realm for now, and eventually it will collapse, killing him inside. Let us send you back home. There's a portal hub on a nearby planet called Janus. I can arrange for a ship to take you there." The cradle lost its momentum. Gunther tapped his wrist, bringing up a holographic keyboard from his silver bracelet. He typed in a message and sent it.

Ford's face hardened. "This issue with Bill is my responsibility. I'm the reason my dimension is in danger. You can't just send me away."

Gunther didn't look up from his wrist. "You can't kill him. You're a fool for thinking it."

Ford's pulse quickened. He curled his toes in his shoes. "There's more than one reason why I can't go home. I lost my brother. We went into the Nightmare Realm together, but we were separated when Bill attacked us. I can't go home without him."

Gunther gave Ford a long look. "Do you know how lucky you were to land here, Mr. Pines?"

Ford didn't answer.

"Those rifts have the chance to take you anywhere in the multiverse. The fact that you landed on our space station and not in the middle of space, or somewhere else dangerous, is a miracle."

"Are you saying my brother is dead?"

Gunther's lips pressed together, the answer in his dark eyes as he looked at Ford with pity.

Ford gripped the edge of the table and leaned closer. "You don't know that! He could still be out there."

"I suppose. There's not much you can do for him now, though. If he's alive, there's no way you'll find him. It's like trying to find one number in a pile of infinity."

Ford sank lower in his chair. As much as he hated to admit it, Gunther had a point. It would be unthinkable to search for a lost person in even one universe. With many infinite universes, the odds were stacked against him.

Until then, Ford had been pushing away the idea that he might never see his brother again. There hadn't been a chance to breathe and think about it. Now that he had come face to face with the thought... he couldn't believe it. Just hours ago they had been fighting over his journal.

His eyes searched the stars behind Gunther's head, as though he could somehow find Stanley among them.

Stanley... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for things to end up like this. A wave of frustration followed, mixing with his guilt. Agh! If only he hadn't pushed me! Now we're both in a predicament because of his selfish agendas.

Ford pushed away the feelings of frustration and despair. He needed a plan of action-some upside to this dark situation. I can't let them take me home. Bill Cipher will pay for this.

"This isn't a matter for debate," Gunther said. "We can't keep you here. A cargo ship will take you to Janus in ten hours."

Ford considered arguing, but going along with Gunther's orders was his best option. If they did take him to another planet, he could always find a way to escape. If he somehow used a portal they hadn't intended, then maybe it would be possible to get away.

Ford relaxed his face. "I have my reservations, but I understand."

Gunther looked at Ford with narrowed eyes. "Good. I'm glad we're on the same page."

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