Things will get better

This is where things change

Ford fidgeted quietly in the Portal room; the machine was shut down, but his hand was still on the Emergency Shut-Down button. He didn't look at the Portal, nor did he think of the incident or, God forbid, Bill Cipher.

Suddenly struck by the feeling of being watched, he fled the basement and closed the door behind him. Whispers of the wind and the whispers in his mind were the only sounds accompanying the creaking sounds of old wood and his own ragged breathing.

He curled up in front of the door, whimpering. Why was this happening to him? Why was it him? Why did He choose him to build the portal? Why not someone else? Why was he so ignorant? So naive? To believe Him. He was His puppet and he didn't know until it was too late.

Now, Fiddleford payed the price.

If he was dead or alive, he doesn't know. If so, he is stuck by the two choices. Leave him to the abyss and destroy the Portal or save his probably dead friend from the nightmare world that laid beyond the...

Ford shook his head. Don't think more about it. Don't think more about it. He stood up and went along the silent hallways, looking around warily as if something would come up and attack him any minute.

He didn't give a second glance to his reflection in the mirror. So he didn't notice the yellow eyes and grinning face on his other self. But it soon disappeared. The snow was falling fast and it covered the outside world like a blanket. Stanford continued to look out the window, looking for something even though he didn't know what he was looking for.

Then, suddenly, there was a sound of a car. He jumped startled. A long moment later of staring and eyes flickering around the surrounding area to see if he can see the car anywhere, a figure appeared through the blur of snow and he backed away from the window, terrified.

Who was it? Was it Bill? He remembered the incident with that demon in the café. Stanford slapped his head.

He can possess other people! Why didn't I think of that? He told himself in his head, angrily. Panicked.

He got impatient. He's going to use brute force. Or... he gulped steal my eyes.

But why bring another person?... then it clicked.

He ran to get the closest weapon to protect himself with. Although Bill might not give a damn if the person got hurt, it was better safe than sorry, besides if it could slow him down... He fumbled with the crossbow; he had a sudden blank and couldn't remember how to put the arrow in. Once he got it in, he looked out. The figure was closer, but it was still hard to see who it was. Too far away to see if it had that horrible grin and those inhuman yellow eyes.

His heart was beating fast as he stopped himself near the front door, waiting for the knock.

Stanley hesitated at the door, his hand stretched out to knock. He looked back at the array of fence wire and signs that said to 'Keep Out'.

"You haven't seen your brother in over ten years. It's okay. He's... he's family. He won't bite." Stan assured himself as he knocked on the door.

A mere second later, the door burst open, leaving Stan at the business end of the crossbow that Ford had clutched tightly in his hand.

"Who is it?! Have you come to steal my eyes?!" Ford yelled at him in a craze, which made the younger of the two step back in surprise.

The Stan frowned at the crossbow and looked at his wide-eyed twin, "Well I can always count on you for a warm welcome..."