*shrug* It's not canon, so disregard any and all inconsistencies, like why aren't the agents there anymore if they still arrested him? Where is Soos? I will let you make up excuses for this poorly executed plot.

He was used to it.

He was a tool. A pack mule.

Stan Pines was expendable.

That's what he was when he threw himself in front of a perfect stranger to stop a bullet. When he ran into a burning home to a kid who was screaming mercy. That's what he was when he pushed forward through hundreds of undead bodies. It didn't change when he was arrested, pushed into the dirt, small red dots roaming his front. Hundreds of snipers threatening death at every moment.

When he turned on the portal.

When he was punched to the ground.

They didn't need him. Stan Pines could be replaced.

He knelt on the ground where the real Stanford Pines had struck him down. Years of harbored hopes and dreams leaving him, draining him dry.

Stan felt empty.

He knew he was supposed to be happy. Or angry. But it wouldn't come. Ford was yelling something at him, but he couldn't hear it past the overwhelming lack of emotion.

He was only made aware of the tears when an angry, upset Mabel No no no! That isn't right- squirmed her way into his lap.

"Grunkle Stan? Are you crying? Do I have to make the scary man go away?" She sounded concerned, bless her little innocent soul. Make the scary man go away?

"No!" Stan shot upward like a bullet, barely catching Mabel, who looked really freaked out now. Stan felt bad about that somewhere inside the void that was his heart.

Ford watched on, confused, only now aware that Stan had been crying. "Stanley?"

Okay, now Ford was freaked out. It was okay when they were both yelling at one another, both inflamed with anger and desperation, but this? This was confusing. This wasn't Stanley...

With that thought, Ford pulled out his equalizer and leveled it at Stan's head. Dipper and Mabel gasped, but they didn't know what to do, shocked into inaction.

Ford growled. Years of mistrust taught him to never hesitate. "Who are you!? Where is the real Stanley Pines?!"

Stan blinked. This was unexpected. The tears kept coming, but he didn't move to stop them. He didn't move away from the gun either. "What?"

Pushing the gun closer to his head, Ford repeated his question, his voice a 'no-nonsense or I will shoot you' sort of tone. Stan didn't really know what do to.

"Poindexter. Sixer. Ford. I am your brother. I'm a dirty two-bit con-artist who likes the sea and eating ice cream for breakfast. I don't know what you want from me, but if you're gonna shoot me, can ya let the kids leave first?"

Stan ignored the high pitched cries from behind him. He looked Ford right in the eyes. He saw Ford's eyes flit to the kids who were staring at him in horror. Ford felt guilt flood him, not for putting a gun to whoever this was, but for scaring the kids. They looked upset and confused. They didn't need this.

Ford gestured to the elevator. "Leave."

The boy shot forward, "NO! Not if your gonna kill him! He's our grunkle, even if he's a lying weird old man! I won't let you!" The boy pushed at his legs. Ford stepped backward, but only because he didn't want anyone touching him. The kid was strong, but not that strong.

Stan leaned forward and held Dipper by the edge of his vest. Dipper looked up from where he was hanging with surprise. Stan placed him by his traumatized sister and pushed them towards the elevator. He put on his cheek splitting smile.

"I'll be up in a minute with this nerd, alright? I promise."

Mabel looked disbelieving, but Dipper gave him one long hard look before nodding, pulling Mabel to the exit with him. She reached out weakly, brows furrowed in concern,

"Grunkle Stan..."

Stan winked at them and they went upstairs. Ford watched all of this, impassive. Stan turned back to his brother, smile gone.

"who are they, and who are you?" Ford glanced at the retreating forms as they slipped upstairs. Stan gave a real, small smile at that.

"Shermie's grandkids. Mabel and Dipper."

Ford blinked, brows furrowing, "Twins?" Stan forced a laugh.

"Yeah, guess it runs in the family, huh?" Stan moved his hand to rub his neck and the gun was suddenly back in his face. Stan put his arms back at his side slowly. Ford glared at him suspiciously.

"Depends if you're really family. How do I know it's you? I know there was a shapeshifter here..."

Stan shrugged. "I don't know about any shapeshifter. What do you want me to tell you, Ford? If you really think I was replaced, then your going to assume I was tortured for information so I could be properly impersonated, but honestly, why would anyone impersonate me? Who else would spend thirty years trying to bring you back?" Stan stepped closer. Ford tensed, still unconvinced. Stan sighed.

"I'm done, Ford. I did what I wanted to do. So if you really want to shoot me..." Stan stepped closer, gun pressed against his chest. "Then do it. They don't need me, you can just send them home. They were just stayin' for the summer anyway. Although, you might find being Stanford Pines is a little different from what you remember." Stan chuckled, but it lacked any warmth or humor.

Ford looked disgusted, "You took my identity?! Stanley!" Ford holstered the gun. Stan blinked. He did it.

"Let me guess, you went and gave me a rap-sheet that could wrap around the earth, didn't you? Tell me I'm wrong."

Stan shook his head. "I can't."

Ford was expecting a laugh, maybe. He felt bad for threatening to shoot his brother. They had issues, but it wasn't that bad. He was convinced it was Stanley when he noticed the bloody bandage on his hand, although his speech was a little concerning.

The sagging, crying man was a surprise, really. His brother was a silver-tongued talker with a smile, ready to pull it out faster than Ford could pull out his gun. This may be Stanley...but it also wasn't. This wasn't how Stanley was supposed to be.

"Stanley?"

Stan looked up, he wasn't smiling, he wasn't frowning. Stan didn't look...didn't look right. Ford frowned. He recognized that look, he'd seen it many times.

Ford placed a six-fingered hand over his mouth. "Stanley?"

Stan looked away.

Ford walked up behind him. He was suddenly reminded of the moment before he fell into the portal when he- he branded his brother. Ford, straight-faced, placed his hands on Stan's right shoulder. He thought maybe Stan would jump up in surprise, something Stanley like, maybe spout profanities.

Nothing. Stan sagged further underneath Ford's hand and Ford ran his thumb over where he remembered the mark was.

"I'm sorry. For this. For punching you. Stanley, I'm sorry."

Stanley didn't want an apology. He didn't care about the burn or the bruise. He cared about the heart-ache. About the fact that his brother had been ready to shoot him. About how he messed up again.

Ford's hand felt like the weight of the world. All of his failures, his mistakes. His flaws. He couldn't bear it. He sank to his knees again and sighed when Ford's hand slipped away.

"Stanley, you need to get up." Ford was seriously concerned by now. He couldn't let this continue...whatever it was.

Stan pulled himself to his feet again. Okay, now that was creepy. Like a machine following commands. "Ford, just go upstairs, I'll follow you up in a minute."

Now that was bull-crap if Ford ever heard it. "No, you need to come with me. If I go up alone, those kids will think I- Will think I killed you." Ford gripped Stan's forearm and pulled him along to the elevator. Stan moved forward limply. Ford thought he looked...

resigned?

They made it up the elevator and the kids were waiting on the other side, Ford saw Stan put on that weird smile again.

"Grunkle Stan!" Mabel lunged at his legs and Ford stepped away. The boy was looking at his hands. He was gaping.

"You-Your-"

Ford grimaced. "I know. It's a polydactyl." Ford's hands went behind his back- an old habit he didn't realize he still had. The boy shook his head.

"No no, I know that, but you-you're the author! Your hands match my- your journal!" He was bouncing with energy and pulled out a journal that glinted gold. Ford blinked.

"My journal? You've read my journals?" Ford took the book and flipped through the pages. He noticed the extra scribbles that were scattered without. Ford cocked a brow.

"Leaf-blowers? Really? Fascinating..." Ford looked up with the first smile he had since he'd stepped out of the portal minutes ago. "Did you add these? These are brilliant!" Ford put the journal in his trenchcoat for safe-keeping. The boy looked like he was going to explode in excitement.

Mabel looked less so. "So who are you? Why do you look like Grunkle Stan?"

Ford turned to her, hand outstretched. "Greetings. I'm the real Stanford Pines." Ford pointed over his shoulder at Stan, who was leaning against the wall, "At that is my twin brother, Stanley Pines."

Mabel couldn't help it. She smiled and laughed, "So I have two Grunkles now!? YES!" She took his hand and oohed. "Wow, six-fingered handshake! That's a full finger friendlier than normal!"

Ford chuckled, feeling more comfortable with every passing second. "I like you. You're weird." Mabel fist-pumped {because why not?} and went to stand by her brother. They all looked at Stan, who shrunk away, almost imperceptibly.

"I think you owe us some explanations, Stanley."

I don't know...I didn't know how to end it...so if you like, want this to go on...then...maybe. Yeah. BYE!

Stan: You really need to stop forgetting about us. I wanna say something too!

Ford: Yes, I have something to add as well.

Me: WELL I DON"T CARE MWAHAHA!

Ford: *levels gun at my head* Stanley! She's been possed by Bill! Get the rope!

Stan *Runs out to get rope.*

Me: I"M NOT POSSESED! I"M JUST LOUD! MWHAHAHA!