Even when they made it out of the tunnels back into the night air, Ford refused to allow Stan to open the hand containing the centerpiece, telling him to wait until they were back on the boat. He said it was just to be certain that there was no residual magnetism surrounding him, which was technically true. His reasons went a little deeper than that, however.

Being the one to erase Stan's mind had given him a horrifying clarity into what his brother's life had been like for the past three decades. He had barely been able to handle the twenty minutes or so between then and Mabel's scrapbook being able to start bringing Stan's memory back to life; he didn't think he could have handled it for a day, much less another thirty years.

That feeling, that he had lost his brother forever because of a mistake he himself had made, was something Ford never wanted either of them to have to go through ever again. And he didn't give a d_mn if that sentence was grammatically correct or choppy or anything else; it was still 100% true.

Maybe it was just paranoid of him, but he knew he wouldn't feel safe until they were back home.

When they found the Stan O'War II, Shanklin was just exiting the cabin; he waved, and made his way to the rail of the boat, leaning on it as they climbed onboard.

"You made it back!" he said, beaming at Ford. Then he looked at Stan and tilted his head quizzically, eyebrows rising in mock confusion. "Who's that?"

"Very funny, smart aleck," Stan growled at him. He looked at Ford. "Can I let go now?"

Ford hesitated, then finally slipped his own watch off his wrist. "Yes, it should be all right now."

Stan opened his hand, letting the watch part slip free into his pocket. Fortunately it was the hand he'd had to bandage; otherwise he probably would have held onto it tight enough to leave an imprint.

Shanklin stared at them with wide eyes. "Whoa, what happened?"

"You want the long version or the short version?" Stan asked, heading for the cabin.

It was Ford's turn to throw together dinner while Stan told Shanklin about their adventure, and Shanklin took the ingredients they'd acquired and blended them together into a viscous, lime green, glowing liquid.

"This'll do the trick until I can get some more cosmic sand," he said when he finished, proudly giving it a final shake like a bartender, and then setting it on the table. "Need to let it settle for about an hour, and then I should be out of your hair."

"Yeah, better go rescue your Ford before he gets his head chopped off or whatever," Stan said, accepting a plate from his own brother and digging in.

"Actually, if I remember correctly Ronald intended to use the death of a thousand cuts," Ford mused.

Stan stared at him with wide eyes. "And the people were actually in favor of that? Just how big of a tyrant were you?"

"I was not a tyrant!" Ford was well aware of how petulant he sounded. "I told you, I was working on reforming them into a democracy!"

"Yeah, that'll do it," Shanklin said, pretending to nod sagely. "Tryin' to change people's lifestyle-shame on you, Sixer!"

Ford made a face at them as he dished out some tinned peaches for dessert. "I was just lucky Ronald didn't find out about my criminal record. The Finger Dimension has some very creative methods of execution."

For a few minutes after that they ate quietly.

Ford asked Shanklin if he could have the third journal, and drew out a map of the dungeons and the surrounding area as best he remembered it (meaning, of course, that he included little detailed pictures of the different trees planted in the courtyard, down to the shape of their leaves and with notes about height and width), and made a list of suggestions for escape routes and a few people he could go to for help if he had no other choice.

"It's still kinda incredible," Stan said out loud, pointing at Ford with his fork. "He's just as big of a criminal as I am. Who'da thought?"

"I know, right?" Shanklin gulped down his latest mouthful and grinned. "He even kidnapped a princess once."

"I did not!" Ford squawked, looking up from his notes. "She asked me to help her escape an undesirable arranged marriage! I tried to make my involvement as little known as possible, but-!"

Too late; both versions of his brother were already guffawing. He glowered at them over the tops of his glasses.

Finally Stan sat up straight, rubbing his streaming eyes. "Sorry, I know I shouldn't laugh at you too much..." He grinned devilishly. "King Koopa."

"I will hurt both of you."

Stan looked at Shanklin. "I call being Mario."

"Fine by me."

Ford finally just rolled his eyes at both of them and went back to work.

He was able to tune them out for a while, until he heard Shanklin say, "One time I actually got arrested when I got to a dimension Ford had just left. But they had to let me go because they realized I wasn't him. I didn't have...certain distinguishing marks."

Ford froze. Oh, sweet mother of mercy, please don't let him be about to say what he thought he was about to say.

"They actually counted your fingers for once?" Stan asked.

"That too." It was Shanklin's turn for a mischievous smile. "But they also noticed my distinct lack of tattoos."

Stan made a spluttering noise like he wanted to do a spit take, but couldn't because he didn't have a drink in his mouth. "You got tattoos, Ford?! Is that why you always wear that dumb turtleneck?"

"I-It was a heat of the moment thing!" Ford could feel his cheeks burning.

Stan, furthering his embarrassment, looked almost...proud of him. But then his eyes narrowed a little. "Please tell me you at least got good tattoos, and not something super lame."

Shanklin leaned forward. "Depends on if you think calling yourself an 'All-Star' is lame."

More raucous laughter ensued.

When it finally ended, Stan managed to get out, "I guess I should be glad you didn't get 'E=MC2' or a picture of an atom or something."

"Shut up, Stanley. Both of you." But by now there was a resigned amusement to his tone.

Several amusing stories later (fortunately they became less focused on embarrassing Ford), Shanklin decided he'd better get going. He poured the mixture into the hourglass part of his portal gun, and retrieved the clothes he'd arrived in. He tried to return the clothes they'd lent him, but both older Pineses insisted he keep them.

They sailed the boat far enough out to sea that nobody was likely to see anything unusual, and then, after checking around for the third time to make sure he hadn't left behind anything (especially not the journals), Shanklin looked at them, shuffling awkwardly.

"Well...I guess this is goodbye." He swallowed. "It's been fun."

"Indeed." Ford, after a moment, stepped towards the Stanley line, offering his hand. But then he felt a hand from behind shove him in the shoulderblade, so what he'd intended to be a semi-formal handshake turned into an extremely unexpected and somewhat stumbling hug.

Despite their mutual surprise and embarrassment, Shanklin actually wrapped an arm around his shoulders for a moment before they separated.

As Ford turned to protest to Stanley, his twin cut him off by saying, "He needed it, trust me. 'Specially 'cause the other you isn't gonna feel like giving him one anytime soon."

Shanklin smiled a little, and offered his palm. "Long distance high five?"

Stan grinned back and held his up. "Long distance high five."

Ford, since he was standing between them anyway, held up both his hands and allowed them to high-five him at the same time. It created an odd tingling sensation to run through his body, making him really glad that he'd known what would happen if the same person from different dimensions touched.

Without further ado, Shanklin turned and pointed the gun, squeezing the trigger. He looked a little like he wanted to say something cliche, but decided it was better to just get going.

The gun sparked, then a burst of light came out, creating a mini portal hovering in the air just above the deck.

Despite himself, Ford took a tiny step back, and felt a tiny bit relieved when Stan wrapped a hand around his shoulder. This time, the gravity around them was unaffected; the fuel they'd created was working like a charm.

Shanklin waved one last time, and then he jumped into the portal, and was gone.

They stood for a long moment, just staring at the spot where moments ago the younger Stanley had been.

Whether they admitted it or not, both of them had felt a small rush of fear at being this close to a working portal again, no matter how different the circumstances had been. It was comforting to know that both of them were still there after it was gone.

"He'll be okay," Stanley said at last. "He's got a nerd brain like you."

Ford snorted. "He also has your unique personality. A dangerous but effective combination altogether."

Stan squeezed his shoulder one more time before releasing him. "Hope the other you's not gonna be too annoyed that he's not the only one who knows stuff anymore."

"He'll get over it." Maybe he was being a little too hard on his younger self, but part of Ford felt like he deserved to get a taste of humble pie once in a while. He just hoped things could turn out as well for them as it had for him and his brother. Or maybe better, since it had taken forty years and a Weirdmageddon for them to get their acts together.

In the meantime, it was time to finally get rid of the Stanley line, and figure out where they were going to go now.

Not the best ending, I know. I just wanted to get this finished so I can move to the next part of the "Shanklin Pines" saga.

I am thinking of making another doc with some bonus chapters, if anyone's interested; they're parts that I thought of, but that don't fit with the rest of the story, you know?

Until then, adieu to you all.