whatever it takes • gravity falls

carton and darnay

It was hard for Stanley to tell the story with half of it missing.

It was hard to see Stanford in Mabel and Dipper and talk about him like he's gone forever (dead, something inside him says, a poison drifting through his veins).

It was hard.

Stanley had thirty years of hindsight to sock him in the nose and it wasn't comfortable. He squirmed with a desperation to apologize to Stanford, a heavy weight in his gut getting heavier.

He told how they found the Stan O' War first. Stanley could remember clearly the sand beneath his toes, the sun kissing their skin, paint seeping into their clothes, the glint of Stanford's glasses catching the sun, and a sweet hope for the future that felt rotten now.

He spoke about salty air, warm nights, flashlights under blanket forts, milkshake mustaches, boxing lessons, lost DD&MD pieces, and imaginations that stretched farther than them both. Hopes for a future that wouldn't exist. Them versus the world.

That childhood innocence had slowly morphed into a twisted version of itself as they neared the end of high school. There was pressures and expectations. They were becoming their own people. What drove them in life changed.

Stanley put family before anything else, a left hook and a few well aimed words for those that didn't agree with him. He was; snapping along to your favorite song, warm leather sticking to your sweaty legs, the crunch of a nose under your knuckles, the uncontrollable laughter that you try to keep hidden in the back of class, passing love notes with your partner. Stanford lived his life in the pursuit of knowledge, dreaming of changing the world with his name in a textbook, a brewing argument for those who didn't agree with him. He was; the smile that overtakes your face as a well planned move is executed, finishing a life-changing novel at 2 a.m., the satisfaction of solving a math problem, sweaty palms and running fingers through your hair, poisonous words that knew the perfect place to hit, the terrifyingly uncontrollable actions that are a result of powerful emotions.

Together they were; a sentence ended in the wrong spot, feeling alone in a crowded room, a newly sharpened pencil breaking immediately, ice cream falling to the ground, socks slipping past your heels, a spoiled ending.

It turned to Them versus Each other.

Stanford was the independent variable, changing and controlling the situation, and Stanley was the dependent variable, changing according to the independent variable.

(Damn, all those science books were getting to him.)

When telling the story, Stanley skips a lot. Some memories he has to skip because he can't go and tell his whole fifty-something year old life - it would take too long. There's also some memories that Stanley keeps close to his chest, they feel too personal for the rest of the world.

An example of a memory that Stanley keeps close is the one where it's raining and Stanford is crying, for the first time in years, tucked in small corner under the bleachers. Stanley stood in front of him with harsh hands on his hips like their father but a worried look in his eyes like their mother. A girl had just asked Stanford to the movies, resulting in a blurted "Yes," and Stanford looking quite pale as he swept out immediately afterwards.

Stanley had followed him and Stanford had sat there with ragged breathing and hot tears and a confused Stanley for ten minutes before he caught his breath and spoke to Stanley, cutting right to the chase in the way he always does (Why waste time? He would say.) "I like boys." He hugged his knees close to his chest, pants soaking with mud, avoiding eyes, but sounding as confident as he always does.

If this had been anyone else saying this, Stanley wouldn't understand. (Things have changed over the years to 2012, but before, such a thing as boys liking boys seemed impossible.) But this was Stanford, so Stanley understood immediately. "You owe me." Is all he says before he shrugs off his jacket and gives it to Stanford who was shivering, turning away with a "Get yourself cleaned up. I'll go take notes for you in class."

And the next day Stanley is wearing Stanford's glasses, a button up shirt and red bow-tie. He picks up Stanford's date and takes her to the movies, even delivering a left hook to some creep and earning Stanford some school cred for the next couple of weeks.

Stanley doesn't tell this story. It seems too pure, as if saying it will crush it and take it away like it never even happened.

Stanley is only able to tell his side of the story. He isn't able to tell the kids how Stanford got to Gravity Falls, how he started writing the Journals, what made him build the portal. He's only able to tell how Stanford's story begins and ends.

Stanley's tale ends and his mouth feels dry and his throat tight. He feels more alone than he ever has. He feels old, tired, like a part of him died.

"You mean, you have a twin brother that you've been working for thirty years to save, and I just stopped you?" Mabel's voice sounded as broken as Stan felt.

Stan doesn't respond in any way. He doesn't have the energy to either agree with Mabel or bring down Mabel's guilt some.

However, Stan is saved some, as there are shouts from the FBI agents upstairs. Stan groans and pops some of his aging joints. A stab of pain through his heart reminds him that Stanford is the this old too. Stan wonders briefly what he looks like after all these years.

(Stan never considers that Stanford could've died already. If Stan knew anything about Stanford, it was that Stanford wasn't about to lie down and wave a white flag. There was no way Stanford was dead right now. Stanford wouldn't have allowed it. And besides, Stan firmly believes that if Stanford was dead, he would know.)

Dipper reaches in his backpack and takes out a weird gun-looking thing. He holds it out to Stan. "This is a gun that can erase memories. You type what you want erased and just shoot it at someone. I think we can use it on those agents."

Pain pounds through Stan's heart as he is reminded yet again of Stanford. Dipper is so much like him. Obtaining weird items and always having them on hand in case the one situation they could be used in happened.

Stan takes the gun from Dipper, feeling the cold brass in his hands. He turns the dial experimentally, giving little resistance as he settles on typing in the name Stanford Pines.

Stan stares at the name in bright green letters for a few long moments before sighing. He doesn't meet any of the kids eyes. "I'll go take care of the agents. You all stay down here."

With the Journal in one hand, and the memory gun in the other, Stanley "Stanford" Pines goes upstairs and erases Stanford Pines from the minds of the people.