Stan knew Ford wouldn't want him to be in the lab. He had been trying to get his brother alone, but he hardly ever came upstairs. Stan couldn't handle the tension between them anymore. He had to talk things out with Ford.

His brother was facing away from him examining some sort of glass ball with what looked like black liquid inside it. Ford was always oblivious when he got going on a project.

"Ahem." Stan tried to be as non-threatening as possible. It didn't seem to work since Ford jolted like a cat who got its tail pulled.

"Stanley, what are you doing here?" Ford was trying to hide whatever he was working on from Stan.

"I just wanted to-"

"Leave. Now."

"Ford, just hear me out." Stan approached his brother who responded by whipping out his gun and pointing it at Stan. "Seriously, Ford? You're gonna shoot me?"

"If you come any closer, I will."

"I'm your brother, Stanford!"

"The same brother who pushed me into the portal."

Stan felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Ford couldn't be so mad that he wished Stan dead, was he? "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

"You'd kill me for some stupid science thing?" For a second, Stan thought he saw his brother's gaze soften. But he must have imagined it.

"Yes."

Stan knew things were bad between him and Ford, but he still held on to the slim hope that their relationship wasn't beyond repair.

He spent thirty years trying to get Ford back and was rewarded by a punch in the face. The kids clearly thought more highly of Ford than him just like everyone else did.

He didn't care about any of that. He would have spent thirty more years on the portal if he had to. He could live with being seen as the lesser of the two brothers if they could at least be brothers again.

Stan had to face facts. He'll never have his brother back. The bitterness in Ford's hardened eyes proved it.

Something inside him snapped.

"You wanna shoot me? Fine." Stan moved closer to his brother. This wasn't the first time he's had a gun in his face. He learned a few tricks for whenever those occasions occur. He could easily knock the gun out of Ford's hands. He could even turn the gun on Ford if he wanted.

Stan grabbed the barrel of the gun and pulled it to his own forehead. "Then, do it."

"What?" Ford looked legitimately shocked by Stan's actions. He took some pride that he could stump the almighty Poindexter.

"Go ahead. Blow my brains out. I know you want to. Besides, Stanley Pines has been dead for years anyway." Stan felt dead long before he took his brother's identity. "Bringing you back was the only reason I didn't off myself years ago."

Ford just stood there with his mouth agape like a deer in the headlights.

"Just do it! Pull the trigger! PULL THE TRIGGER, STANFORD!" Stan's scream was choked by a sob. He fell to his knees at Ford's feet still holding the gun to his forehead.

He could hear his father berating him in his mind. He would be telling Stan to stop sniveling, stand up straight, and die like a man. He didn't see why he should bother to die with any measure of dignity. It's not like he's ever lived with any.

"Please...please, Ford…I can't take it anymore. I just…I just wanna die, Ford. I just wanna die." Stan deserved to die, and Ford deserved to be the one to do it.

Stan closed his eyes then. He didn't want the final image of his brother to be hateful and bitter. He thought of a younger Ford that still loved and cared for him. He wanted to take that picture with him to the next life, whatever that may be.

He let go of the barrel and waited for Ford to kill him. Instead of feeling a hole blast through his head, the gun was pulled away. He wondered if Ford decided not to give him the quick, clean bullet to the head. Maybe Ford was going to shoot him in a place where his death would be slower and more painful. That was fine with him. He can take it. He accepted whatever Ford wanted to do to him.

A loud bang echoed through the room. But it wasn't a gunshot; it was the sound of the gun hitting the floor.

"Stanley…" The catch in Ford's voice got Stan's attention. It didn't hold the angry or condescending tone Stan had gotten used to. It was…he didn't know what it was.

Stan looked up at his brother. Ford had a hand over his mouth and had a horrified look on his face.

"Stanley…I didn't mean…I thought you were…I had to make him think…" Ford had been startled when Stan snuck up on him. Considering how little they spoke to each other, he found it strange that Stan had come to his lab. He considered the possibility that Bill might have possessed Stan to get the rift. If so, he had to make Bill believe he was willing to shoot his own brother. Ford knew he couldn't, and he thought Stan knew that too. The bluff for his enemy had been real for his brother.

"Stanley…" Ford knelt down to be level with him. He cupped Stan's face with his hands and used his thumbs to wipe his tears. "I could never hurt you."

Stan's whole body shook. Even though he was only wearing boxers and a wife beater, Ford didn't think it was because he was cold. Still, he took off his coat and wrapped it around Stan's shoulders. Stan tried to bury himself in it like a baby bird trying to hide under its mother's wing.

For the first time in forty years, Ford hugged his brother. Stan stiffened as Ford wrapped his arms around him. He didn't want to say or do anything that would push Ford away again. Somehow, Ford knew the right words to say at that moment.

"I love you, Stanley."

Any doubt in Stan's mind was abandoned as he returned his brother's hug and wailed into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ford. I never meant to hurt you. The project was an accident, I swear!"

"I know." Of course, he knew. Ford should have known all along that his brother would never betray his trust, but he let his anger blind him to the truth.

"I didn't mean to push you. I didn't mean to-"

"Shh, shh, shh, shush now." Ford placed a kiss on top of his head. "None of that matters anymore."

"I'm so sorry, Ford."

"I'm sorry too, Stanley." Ford tightened his hold around Stan as though he could literally shatter if he let go. "I'm so sorry."