Ever since their heart to heart, Dipper spent a lot of time with Ford. He mainly sorted things and looked through some of the data collected on supernatural creatures. The boy would then add things he had discovered during the course of the summer to whatever Ford had noted down over thirty years ago – he fixed the things that were outdated or simply entirely wrong. A part of him wished he could do more, help his great uncle build things but it seemed that the man was still a bit weary of letting anyone other than himself manipulate some of the sensitive objects and material in his laboratory.

Today was like any other day. Ford was typing away on his computer, the screen was covered in code and it was amazing how he could just read and write it. He supposed that over the years of using it, he had become fluent which made things a lot easier. Dipper was sorting through boxes mostly filled with files. Once, the boxes had formed a series of tall towers, nestled against the wall but now, only half a dozen remained. Dipper pulled on the box nearest him and popped off its cardboard lid. A cloud of dust rose, clogging his airways and getting into his eyes. He coughed noisily and rubbed the dust away.

The box was seemingly covered in yellowed papers containing seemingly insane scribbles. The boy picked the first one from the top, examining the writings, signs, and drawings, and slowly began to piece things together. He recognized the jumbled letters as codes and later deduced the signs were hieroglyphs though they didn't resemble anything from Earth. Lastly, the drawings were in fact blueprints and once he pieced everything together, he found that he held one of Ford's early plans for the portal he had created and later dismantled.

"This is amazing…" Dipper mumbled to himself as he gathered more papers and blew the thin layer of dust from them, "This is incredible…"

"What? What is it?" Ford asked absently without sparing him a glance.

"Your research papers…" Dipper explained slowly as he looked over more details of the portal's conception. "They're really incredible…"

"What are they about?" Ford asked.

"It's all in code so I'd need time and the key to decipher it," Dipper explained as he packed some of the papers together and reached down to grab more. "I'm pretty sure this was when you were first theorising about the portal."

He glanced down at the box and stilled his hand. The jottings were different, solely in the alien hieroglyphs, and the drawings weren't at all in rapport with the portal. There were some objects, and creatures with a few words of English scribbled around almost like reminders of the like of "poisonous", "radioactive", or "sharp teeth".

"Wait…" Ford mumbled.

Dipper collected the documents detailing a different project carefully and after moving a few of the sheets aside, he found a drawing à la Vitruvian man of a young man with skin the colour of the earth and tousled hair as golden as wheat. He was rather breath taking but the most peculiar thing about the illustration were the notes scrawled around with arrows pointing at different parts. There was even what looked like to be a small list at the bottom with words crossed out or with check marks next to them. He was just about to grab it when Ford snatched the box away from him.

The boy looked up at his great uncle, perplexed and shocked by his abruptness. Ford looked troubled himself by his own actions and he struggled for just a moment to justify what he had done. His mouth moved, making no sounds and uttering no words until, finally, he thought of something to say. "This box has information I need to destroy." He said, "I don't want anyone to be able to rebuild the portal. It's best you read none of this."

"Well it's not like I can read code as well as you." Dipper pointed out, "Plus, most of the things you wrote are in hieroglyphs I've never seen before."

Ford flinched at that and his eyes hollowed for a moment. It was like a memory had surfaced and he seemed considerably grimmer afterwards. "You should go play outside, Dipper." He said forlornly and went back to his desk with the box.

"What? Why?" the boy asked, offended and hurt by the suggestion.

"You're a kid, you should be enjoying what the summer has to offer, at least for a little while." Ford said, "Wasting away in a dark basement is the last thing you should want to be doing."

"I don't mind!" Dipper insisted, "This is all super cool and I'm learning new stuff and—"

"Go see Mabel." Ford said and he offered a weak smile, "She did want to spend time with you today."

"But I want to do this—"

"You'll have another opportunity to do so." Ford stated, "But for today, go be a kid while you still can. You'll regret not having seized the day otherwise."

Dipper was ready to continue arguing but Ford had not only made valid points, he'd gotten him to understand that he wasn't going to let him have his way. With a reluctant and frustrated sigh, Dipper stood, dusting his knees, and left the laboratory. He spared a look at his great uncle one last time, frowning before leaving. Something was going on with Ford but there was no use in trying to get any information from him. Though he had said there would no longer be any secrets between the two of them that could only be so true. There were just some things you couldn't share with someone else – whether they were family or a friend.

Ford listened to his great nephew's steps as he climbed up the stairs and slammed the door behind him. He waited a few additional moments before peering back into the box and scooping out the papers Dipper had almost gotten a hold of. Even if the boy still struggled to read code as easily as Ford, he was intelligent and great at deducing. He'd managed to figure out that the first few documents he had found were the early conceptions of the portal regardless of being unable to read anything written without the means to deciphering it. Surely, had he seen the other papers, he would have realized that Ford had recreated Frankenstein's sin thirty years ago.

The Vitruvian design of the man was a bittersweet memory. So much research, adventuring, and laborious hours of overall work had been poured into making it a reality. Never would he have imagined such a task were possible had he not discovered the supernatural world. Perhaps not going to that fancy college upon graduation hadn't been so terrible. Ford was sure he had accomplished more with independent researching in Gravity Falls than he ever could have in that Ivy League institution. The proof was that he had created life.

Ford carefully scooped the document and sorted through it, reorganizing some of the pages that had accidentally fallen out of place. He saw the detailed drawings he had made of the face he envisioned giving the body, the eyes he sought to create for it, the lips, the nose – everything. Never had he been more detailed with any of his projects before – including the portal machine. The reason for that stemmed beyond the fact that creating life was a delicate procedure; it was mostly because it was very special to him.

His heart clenched at the thought. He had been so excited and yet he later had to destroy it. Ford found the lid and covered the box before hauling it out of the basement and into the Shack's living room. Behind all of Stan's junk and that obnoxiously big TV was a fireplace that was ever rarely used anymore. He fetched some logs they kept in the backyard for some reason and tossed them into the pit then lit the ablaze. He watched the red flames lick and spread and for a moment he thought he saw a blue spark but it was likely just his imagination.

No one else was in the house. Stan was probably conning more unsuspecting tourists in the museum and store portion of the building while Dipper and Mabel were both likely outside. Ford propped open the box's cover again and tossed it into the fit. The flames died a bit at the sudden addition but roared back to life once they began eating through the cardboard quickly enough. He then grabbed the first few papers regarding the portal's conception and tossed them in. He watched the papers disintegrate slowly into nothing before reaching for the research on creating a habitable human body. Ford could almost hear Bill whispering in his ear, beckoning him to keep the documents or, at the very least, the full body drawing.

He threw the papers in and winced, a painful sting jabbing at his heart. He immediately regretted his decision but it was too late. Ford only wished he could have beheld the beautiful body he had made one last time. Even after thirty years and a heart breaking moment, he still loved it – he was still in love.

The rest of the box was not filled with more research documents but rather with Polaroid pictures that really tore at Ford's heart strings. The first he pulled out was of the man from his drawings. He was laying on his back, glancing over his shoulder with a cheeky smile on his face. He caught only a small bit of his golden orbs as most of his face was cropped out of the photograph. And in that moment, Ford remembered everything. He remembered being young and full of life, completely captivated by the beautiful thing he had created as a gift. He remembered being happy, hopeful, and simply crazy with love. In the moments before he had snapped that picture of the young man, they had had sex – something they had done quite often before everything went downhill.

Ford had pinned him down to his bed, his lips eagerly trailing down his neck and tracing the bones and lines that stood out in his torso. He remembered the beautiful sounds the blond had made, the way his back had curved, craving for more sensual touching, and how his slit pupils had been so blown with lust they were practically round. He remembered fucking him senselessly with the energy and vigor only a young adult could have when he was so utterly in love. He still remembered the other man feeling so tight around him and yet so good. The blond would throw his head back, moaning and screaming his ecstasy for the heavens and other planes of existence to hear. He had honestly had no shame.

He still doesn't. Ford thought to himself.

Regardless of the giant shit storm that had followed, the time he had spent with the exotic beauty he had created had probably been the best in his whole life. Even now, Ford remembered the time he spent in bed with the impossibly gorgeous man fondly albeit a bit bitterly. He had felt so soft and sweet pressed flushed against him, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the afterglow of their sex. God, Ford had never wanted the time they spent together to end.

He threw the picture into the fire and soon it was no more. The next photograph he took had been taken around the same time as the one he had previously destroyed. This time the blond man was lying on his back, fingers intertwined in the bedcovers on which he laid, while sporting a sexed out expression. He wore a lazy grin and his cheeks were tinted red but it wasn't particularly obvious what with the dark colour of his skin. He had taken that picture while they had been having sex – sometime around the beginning of their ministrations because Ford remembered he had thrown his camera aside fairly quickly to concentrate on his exquisite lover.

He tossed that picture into the flames as well and he bit his lip as he watched a hole burn through the beautiful blond man's face. Ford didn't stare for too long at the next few photographs he collected. They were mostly of the same instance, with the man posing in different ways, exposing different parts of his body as they got ready to fuck or were already fucking. He was glad he had gotten to the box before Dipper could have discovered the Polaroid pictures – Lord knew he wasn't ready to discuss that part of his past let alone explain sex to a twelve year old.

With most of the lewd pictures fed to the fire, the more tamed and family appropriate ones remained. A couple of them were of Ford as he worked on the portal. He was young and very focused but a playful smile was etched on his face. He remembered how the blond had decided to take a plethora of pictures of him for fun. The blond had actually wasted all of the cartridges they had that day on silly portraits of him.

"Here we have Stanford Pines, the man that changed the world, in his natural habitat," He had teased while snapping a picture, "Observe this majestic creature as he slaves away at his desk, scribbling things no ordinary human would ever dream of for the benefit of his kind."

He threw all of the portraits of himself in the flames. Ford felt regret and sadness which angered him. After all that time, after all the crap he had gone through because of that man, he couldn't believe he still felt such things. He remembered what the blond had done, what terrible things he had attempted to do all the while duping him. That monster – that demon had been planning to kill him as soon as he got what he wanted. He had only been using him. He shouldn't feel upset that he was destroying any proof relating to the intimate time he had spent with him.

Just then the door leading to the Mystery Shack door swung open and Stan walked in counting bills he had conned from people. He noticed him quickly, raising an eyebrow in question upon noticing the fireplace. "A little early for roasting marshmallows, isn't it?"

"I thought you would be working longer." Ford said.

"Eh, short work day." Stan said and sat down next to him, keeping the box in between, "Weather turned to shit so no one wants to go outside and those who are outside want to go home. Except for Mabel."

"What is she doing?" Ford asked and he wanted to cover the box with something but he had thrown the top into the fire first. How stupid of him.

"She's having a mud fight with Dipper." Stan said as though it was a normal thing to do, "We'll have to hose them down before letting them in."

"Good thinking." Ford nodded.

Stan then peered at the open box and reached for one of the Polaroid pictures. Ford thought to stop him but a part of him wanted his brother – or just someone – to know. They still weren't on the greatest of terms but perhaps this could help them pave the way back to what they had once been to one another. The picture his brother took was that of the blond man smiling, eyes closed, with a cigarette pinched between his plush lips. His face was the man focus of the photograph and exploited all the fine and beautiful details of his complexion.

Stan whistled, "Who's the stud?" he asked with a grin.

"B—" he began but stopped himself, "He's my boyfriend – or rather my ex."

"Hun." Stan huffed, looking the picture over, "Always knew you had something for guys."

"You didn't." Ford rebuked.

"Of course I did." Stan insisted, "Everything you did to impress women into going out with you was way too forced. I also noticed how you looked at men – mostly Steve, my wrestling buddy."

Ford denied the small blush on his cheeks. He glared at the fire instead, opting to not confirm nor deny the allegations made against him. Even if they were true. Very true.

"So what happened?" Stan asked as he flung the photograph into the fire. Ford said nothing for a moment, watching the fire devour another memory, "Did he move on while you were away for thirty years? Married some other guy?"

"No." Ford said with a light shake of the head.

"Just a bad break up then?" Stan guessed, "One you didn't have time to deal with while you were away?"

"Sort of." Ford granted.

He couldn't just tell him the truth. Stan didn't know much about the supernatural aside from the small encounters he had had, it wasn't like he knew the creature inhabiting the body; but still, Ford wanted to avoid any form of criticism or reproach for his past actions. It was easy to judge him now that everyone involved had more information, but back then he hadn't known. He was stupid. He was young and in love. And he just hadn't known.

"Need help burning all this, Point Dexter?" Stan asked.

"Sure." Ford said and they spent the rest of the afternoon throwing the Polaroid photographs into the fire. They didn't really speak, sometimes they would just examine the pictures before destroying them – Stan trying to understand in what context it had been taken while Ford just remembered. Once it was all done, they tossed in the box and closed the fireplace's door. Ford felt both lighter and heavier.

That night, when Ford had fallen asleep, he predictably fell into a colourless dream world where up was down and down was sideways. He stood in a patch of dead grass for a moment when a figured appeared from a blue flame. A young man with hair as yellow as the sun and skin like chocolate. He bore a large grin, taunting, and his golden eyes twinkled with mischief and bad intent. He was cladded in a black suit with a sleeveless vest which displayed a large portion of his lemon-coloured dress shirt.

"That wasn't very nice of you." He said. "I wanted to keep those pictures."

"What do you want, Bill?" Ford frowned.

The demon floated closer, so close, in fact, that Ford took a step back to keep a comfortable distance between themselves. Bill ignored that and moved closer and closer until their lips were pressed together. Ford stiffened, refusing to respond to the intimate contact and clenching his fists together, eagerly await for the other to back off. When Bill finally did, his smile was softer and yet more wicked. Ford also noticed his pupils were dilated.

"I came to remind you." He said, "Remind you of what we had, the things we did, and how that would never change even if you burned all the pictures and my body."

"You repel me." Ford stated firmly.

"Do I now?" Bill grinned.

And Ford hated how transparent he still was. Even after everything, after being misled and betrayed by Bill, he was still in love with him.