Broken Banjo
Chapter Four: A Land Without Sound
Ao3 | Wattpad
Welcome to the Broken Banjo AU, where Stanford and Fiddleford end up trapped beyond the portal together.
>> 4.3k words
>> fiddleford & stanford // fiddleford x stanford
>> slow burn, alternate universe, pov ford pines, hurt/comfort, young stanford & young fiddleford, alternate portal incident, the nightmare realm, psychological trauma
The first thing Stanford became aware of was the chilled, damp surface beneath him, and how it was softer than grass but tougher than a sponge. Intriguing. He blinked his eyes open, a stinging feeling bothering them briefly before the world around him came into focus. Above was the sky, an unfamiliar blend of muted colors – lavender and slate-gray swirling together, very unlike the blue sky on their home planet. There were also no clouds, just vast, endless lilac heavens. He could feel the faint warmth of the sun, but it felt much colder than Earth, even as the sun was in the middle of the sky, and the silence that enveloped everything was unsettling.
Secondly, he became aware that Fiddleford was already awake as his head turned to see him. There he sat, a short distance away, propped up on one elbow, staring into the distance with a look of confusion and just a hint of awe. Stanford pushed himself into a sitting position as well, then, trying to shake off the lingering fog in his head and in his eyes from the wormhole travel. The ground beneath him was almost springy as he moved, and the air was heavy with an oppressive, overwhelming stillness that seemed to absorb any sound. It made his head ache with how quiet it was, something akin to the pressure build-up in the ears when going diving. Well, he hadn’t been diving before, but he could surmise it was something like that.
Fiddleford’s gaze met his then, and he was given a small, relieved wave. “Stanford,” he said, his voice even softer than usual, as if afraid to break the extreme quiet around them. Stanford couldn’t blame him, though. He felt a tad bit awkward at just the thought of saying anything aloud himself. “Yer awake.”
Standing up, Stanford rubbed his eyes and tried to ground himself, planting his feet firmly on the ground, feeling a bit unsteady. The world spun for a moment before evening out. Though, he resorted to staring downwards until he was sure he wasn’t going to topple over. “Yeah, I am… Have you been awake long?”
Fiddleford shook his head, his expression troubled as he stood up as well, moving over to be beside Stanford, who could sense his concern. “No, I just woke up a bit before ya.” He paused for a moment in thought. “Everything’s so quiet. I ain’t never been nowhere like it. I thought the woods in Gravity Falls were silent, but this…”
Once everything stopped feeling so wobbly, Stanford took a glance about the terrain, taking in their surroundings more closely, noting the apparent differences from their home (besides the obvious different-colored sky, that was). The landscape was strange and alien, with a smooth, undulating terrain accompanied by a scattering of odd plants, some of which appeared to be glowing. And again, there was the palpable silence, almost as if the environment itself was absorbing any potential noise. It was all utterly fascinating.
“Oh, wow, look at that, Fiddleford!” Stanford’s excitement broke the oppressive stillness, though his voice still felt swallowed by the air. He pointed towards a collection of strange plants, their glow pulsing rhythmically, casting a faint light on the ground beneath them. The plants emitted a soft, almost imperceptible hum – though Stanford couldn’t actually hear it. Rather, he could feel it. The vibrations seemed to simply travel through the ground, right to him. It was as if the organisms were speaking to him, responding to his curious stare and gesture. His scientific curiosity grew, momentarily overriding his discomfort, as he moved closer to observe, kneeling down beside the cluster.
Fiddleford approached cautiously, eyeing the glowing flora with a mixture of fascination and wariness. “Ain’t never seen nothin’ like it,” he muttered, his voice still low. Nonetheless, it was very easy to hear and understand him. “But… don’t it seem a bit unnatural to ya?”
“Well, that’s the whole point! The excitement of it is that it is unnatural,” Stanford agreed with a nod, crouching down to examine one of the glowing plants more closely. He could see that its stems were smooth and translucent like glass, and small tendrils stretched out from the base, connecting it to the surrounding terrain in intricate patterns, illuminating through the ground like veins. He reached out to touch one, but Fiddleford grabbed his arm quickly before he could make contact.
“Maybe… Maybe ya shouldn’t, Stanford. We don’t know what it’ll do,” Fiddleford warned, glancing around as though expecting something to happen and making Stanford frown. “We don’t know about this place, nothin’ of it. What if it hurts ya or… or makes ya sick?”
As always, Fiddleford held the logic that Stanford did not. He had a bit of a tendency to get ahead of himself, and he was sure that after the portal incident, Fiddleford would be more cautious with him than before. Although he couldn’t blame him, he wasn’t all that happy with it. But he accepted it with a sigh, realizing he was likely right. It wouldn’t be the best idea to get himself killed, especially not after they’d both just escaped near death as it was.
With hesitance, Stanford pulled back his hand and felt Fiddleford let go of his arm as he did. He looked back at him, making a small smile. “You’re right. We need to be careful. Thank you for reminding me.” It was difficult to put aside his pride and his curiosity, but Stanford knew that Fiddleford had a point – he often did. He stood up, brushing off his pants and giving the strange plants one last glance before stepping back. The stillness returned, and with it, that strange, eerie quiet that pressed in on them like a weight.
At that, Fiddleford relaxed, his shoulders lowering as the immediate tension of the moment passed. He shot Stanford a look, a mix of understanding and mild exasperation, and Stanford frowned slightly in return. “Just… try not to go pokin’ things right away, alright? I get yer excited, but we’ve gotta be cautious. We don’t know if these plants are dangerous or if anythin’ else in this place is.”
Although his mind said otherwise, unable to stop thinking of questions and ideas as it always did, Stanford nodded. “Of course, you’re right.” Instead, he scanned the landscape again, noticing how unnaturally barren it seemed, aside from the luminescent plants. There were no sounds of animals, no wind rustling through flora, only that ever-present silence. His fingers itched for his journal, but he hadn’t come prepared for any kind of exploration. “We’ll still need to learn more about where we are if we want to survive. If we’re going to get anywhere, then we have to understand how things work here.”
“I reckon yer right about that yerself… but maybe we focus on gettin’ outta here before diggin’ too deep? This place just don’t sit right with me,” Fiddleford admitted, and Stanford could see the realization and the nerves beginning to settle into him. He knew he couldn’t do anything to calm his thoughts about it, because he knew no better than Fiddleford about the situation they were in, but he couldn’t sit and do nothing. Not while he could at least try to do something.
For a moment, Stanford was quiet, thinking, before he stepped closer to Fiddleford, closing the space between them. “We’ll find a way out of here, I promise. But you know as well as I do that knowing more about this place gives us a better shot at making it. If we figure out the rules of this dimension, this planet, we might find a way to get home faster than if we just run blindly.” Then, he offered a small, reassuring smile, hoping it would be enough to ease Fiddleford’s nerves, even if just a little.
Their eyes met, and Fiddleford let out a heavy exhale, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction more. It allowed Stanford to relax a bit more, too. “I know, I know. I ain’t mean to be like this, it’s just… after everythin’ we’ve been through, after everythin’ we’ve seen, I guess I’m more scared than I used to be. Scared we won’t get out one of these times.”
“I get it,” he replied with honesty, voice softening. He had times he wondered the same, and Fiddleford hadn’t seen most of them. Times when Bill had done the worst to him. Times when he thought Bill would kill him. “But… we’ve gotten out of worse, haven’t we? Don’t forget when you saved me from that Krampus!” Fiddleford managed to laugh at that. “You’ve stuck with me through every mess I’ve gotten us into, and we’ve always managed. We’ll get through this too.”
There was a pause, and then Fiddleford gave a nod, the edges of his lips twitching upward into the faintest of smiles. “Yeah… Yeah, I guess yer right.”
Most of the heavy tension and stress lightened, but lingering anxiety still weighed on Stanford, and he knew Fiddleford felt the same. There was no time to waste. They had to find shelter before nightfall, at the very least. “We should start by figuring out where we are.” His gaze swept over the smooth terrain, trying to see if there was anything that stuck out. It looked to be empty as far as he could see, though. Still, he held onto hope. “If we find a landmark, there’s a good chance we’ll run into some form of civilization.”
“Alright,” Fiddleford replied, voice steadier then. “But we’ve got to stick together. No wanderin’ off on yer own like ya tend to do, okay? We’re in this together, that means the both ‘a us.” He was even stern as he said it, crossing his arms as he looked at Stanford, who laughed, then nodded.
“This time I agree. We stick together. Promise.”
They set off after that, Stanford leading the way with Fiddleford close behind him. Very close, in fact. Stanford could practically feel him, the heat of his body. But he didn’t mind. He would rather they stay close, stick together as they agreed. Already he’d almost lost Fiddleford once. If it weren’t for the refugees, he would have likely been dead, and Stanford hated to think about it. Him almost causing his closest friend’s, his only friend’s, death. The thought of it, the remembrance. It made him feel queasy. Even worse, when he thought about Tate and Emma-May. If Stanford died, that would be okay. He had no one. No one to miss him, no one to wonder. But Fiddleford? He had everything he could ever want.
“Ya alright, Stanford? Ya been awful quiet. Yer usually always talkin’ about somethin’, that is,” Fiddleford interrupted his thoughts. Of course he would notice, but Stanford was glad that he did. He wouldn’t get anywhere being lost in his head about (mostly) trivial matters. The past was something he couldn’t change, only the future and the present. He had to stay there, he reminded himself. So Stanford offered him a smile, pausing his steps to allow Fiddleford to catch up to walking beside him.
“Sorry, Fiddleford. I was thinking about the possibility of fauna, and it’s so quiet I almost forgot you were there,” he explained, although it was an outright lie. But he was thinking about fauna now. If they existed, would they glow too? He would have to investigate if he got the chance.
“Don’t have ta apologize, I told ya. I don’t ever need ya to tell me yer sorry. Ya always look sorry enough when it comes ta it,” Fiddleford teased, as if trying to make him less guilty. It did work, though. Stanford found himself laughing, shaking his head, and they began to bicker lightly back and forth after that. For a brief time, he was content with not thinking about what could have been or what could be. He was okay with just talking. That was until he had to start thinking again as he spotted something in the distance. A few hundred feet in front of them, he saw it: buildings. Lots of them.
Stanford’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of it – too easy to find, a voice in the back of his mind went. Buildings, nestled together in the distance, jutted out of the landscape like foreign constructs against the otherwise empty horizon. The town was far larger than he expected, its architecture strange and geometric – unlike the rest of what they’d seen on the planet – with a muted palette that blended into the dull, lavender sky. He paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes, trying to take in every detail. It seemed… lifeless. There was no movement, no bustling activity. No sound.
Fiddleford came to a stop beside him, his gaze following Stanford’s. “A town…” he murmured, squinting. “But it looks empty. Where is everyone?”
Stanford studied the layout. He could see streets and what appeared to be shops and homes, but it was as if the entire place had been frozen in time. His mind worked faster than he could process, already creating theories and considering possibilities. “Maybe they’re inside,” he mused, though the lack of sound still bothered him. “It could be some kind of quiet hour… but if this whole world is like what we’ve, well, not heard, there may be something else at play. Or perhaps this planet has been abandoned? But I can’t understand the rest of it…”
Thoughts spiraling as he examined the town, Stanford couldn’t stop every possibility flashing through his mind then. Abandoned? Maybe. But then, why did the structures look so well-kept? They weren’t crumbling or weathered by time; they stood eerily pristine, untouched by decay. Was it on purpose? Had people been there and only recently left? The silence wrapped around them like a shroud, thick and suffocating, and it fueled his curiosity further.
“I don’t know if we should just… go walkin’ in there, Stanford,” Fiddleford said quietly, voice uneasy as he continued, “What if it’s a trap? What if this place ain’t as empty as it looks?”
That caused Stanford to hesitate. The logical part of his brain told him that Fiddleford was right again. Everything about this place felt wrong. But the other part of his brain instead screamed for answers to what he couldn’t make out. There was something there, something more than what they could see on the surface, and they needed to understand what it was if they were going to get anywhere. He glanced back, the weight of Fiddleford’s fear pulling at him.
“We’ll be careful,” Stanford reassured, though it sounded more like he was convincing himself. “We need to find out more. This place might have the answers we’re looking for, Fiddleford. If we can figure out what’s happened here, we might find someone that knows something, someone to help get us home.”
Fiddleford’s jaw tightened, but he gave a reluctant nod. “Alright, but remember, we stick close. And no gettin’ into anything that ya know could be dangerous!”
With that agreement, they made their way into town. The streets, wide and empty, stretched ahead of them, a labyrinth of stillness. Each step echoed faintly in the eerie quiet, though there was no wind, no ambient noise. And Stanford couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched, but no matter where he looked, he couldn’t see anyone. Not a single person or even animal.
As they walked further, Stanford began to notice something strange. Signs, etched in unfamiliar glyphs, hung above the doors of every building, and though the symbols were foreign, they felt important, like markers or warnings. He stopped in front of one, brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of it.
“What do ya think it says?” Fiddleford asked, stepping up beside him.
“I’m not sure,” Stanford murmured, tracing the outline of the glyphs, or letters, with his eyes. “But it’s not random. This is a language, or at least a code of some kind. If I could just–”
Before he could finish, a faint flicker of light caught his eye, drawing his attention down the street. At first, he thought he might’ve imagined it, but no – there it was again. A faint pulse, a distant beacon, glowing from behind one of the larger buildings. It was just like the plants, first the glowing and then the feeling that traveled to him.
“Do you see that?” Stanford whispered, nudging Fiddleford and pointing toward the light. He looked towards him as he tilted his head up, squinting a bit at the brightness of it.
“What do ya think it is?” Fiddleford said then, glancing after at Stanford in return, meeting his eyes, but it caused him to look away. Instead, Stanford focused on figuring out what exactly the light was coming from, but he couldn’t see very well from that far away. They would have to get closer. From there, all he could see were walls that looked to stretch for miles. Maybe that light was connected to them.
“I don’t know, but I believe that it may be worth investigating,” Stanford answered cautiously. He was suspicious, he had to admit. Why hadn’t they seen the light or the massive walls when they first arrived? They were painfully obvious now. They wouldn’t have missed the light at least, so it must have just turned on. A planted distraction from the signs.
Moving quickly, Stanford gestured for Fiddleford to follow. They made their way to the source of the light, able to see it more clearly then: a foreign, mechanical device embedded in the ground, its surface flickering with an eerie glow even more similar to the flora than he first thought. Maybe the light was made from them. Besides that, what looked to be thin wires ran from the machinery, snaking around a building beside it.
It made Stanford’s pulse quicken. “This could be our answer. Some sort of power source or… or signal transmitter?” He crouched down beside it, examining the intricate web of wires and circuits. Again, it was more complex, more intricate than how things worked on Earth. The technology was far more advanced. “If we follow these wires, they may lead us somewhere important.”
Clearly apprehensive, Fiddleford frowned. “Important, sure, but I’m gonna take a guess and say not in a good way. What if it leads us straight to whoever, or whatever, is runnin’ this place?”
“That might be exactly what we need, though,” Stanford replied, more to himself than to Fiddleford. “If someone is controlling or in charge of this town, then I can only assume they’ll have the answers we’re looking for.”
“But what if they’re no good? What if they’ve done somethin’ terrible to these people? They could do somethin’ terrible to us, Stanford…” Fiddleford was overthinking again, but Stanford didn’t fully mind it. In their situation, although becoming stressed like that could be bad, he knew that it also meant thinking of the worst plausible scenario. Things that even Stanford might not think of. That part could help them more than hurt them.
“We’ll just have to be extra cautious, then. But nothing will come from us standing here trying to make sense of what we can’t understand. We have to get answers, remember?” Stanford tried to reassure him again, but he couldn’t do it forever. At that point, he could really only hope that Fiddleford would relax, that he would realize they had few options. And with those few options, Stanford really was choosing the ones with their best interests in mind. The safest options.
“Stanford, I just don’t know about this…” His voice trailed off, and Stanford could hear the wariness that weighed on him. The fear was mutual, though Stanford hid it better, masking it beneath curiosity. He hardly even realized it. He only knew to ignore it, after all. That was what he had always done. It was just human psychology, uncontrollable and often unpredictable.
“Well I do. Listen, do you remember when you said you would trust me? I need you to right now, and I need you to in the future. Even though it’s difficult for you, please. We can’t afford to keep wondering like this. Please, Fiddleford. Trust me.”
Fiddleford seemed a bit shocked at Stanford’s sudden honesty, and Stanford became worried he wouldn’t take it well. But he watched as his face seemed to twist into some sort of understanding. He watched as he concluded that Stanford was right, that they couldn’t be afraid, even if he felt that way. It was difficult for him to watch, though. Stanford hated that he would have to be brave. He hated that he had to be someone else. But it was what had to be done.
“Okay, Stanford. Okay. Yer right, I know ya are. I’ll… be better about it. Just remind me sometimes, would ya? I don’t mean ta start thinkin’ too much, but sometimes I can’t help it,” he spoke with gentleness, laced with calm. And Stanford felt then that maybe Fiddleford really had come to terms with it, much easier than he thought. Probably much easier than Fiddleford himself thought, too.
“Come on then. We have things to do,” he said, and Fiddleford nodded with a genuine smile.
Without another word, they moved, following the wires around the building. Every little step made Stanford painfully aware of the silence, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t alone even as the town remained still. They rounded the corner and walked until they found themselves facing a gate twice their size embedded into the walls.
Stanford stood still as he followed the wires with his eyes. They disappeared into the shadows beneath the door, beneath the walls. “The wires lead somewhere. We should try to follow them,” he said with a quiet urgency.
Fiddleford hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he glanced around. “Stanford, I…” he began, then swallowed, remembering before continuing, “If ya think it’s the only way, then okay. I trust ya.” His voice was a bit rough, and Stanford could hear the wariness that weighed on him. The fear was mutual, though Stanford hid it better, masking it beneath curiosity. But it wasn’t so bad with Fiddleford there, trusting him.
So, he stepped closer, running a hand along the walls. It wasn’t just any door, he realized – it looked to be a sort of checkpoint. There were strange, glowing panels beside the gate, clearly high-tech, and faint symbols blinked on the surfaces in a code he wasn’t sure he could decipher. He studied the layout, his fingers already itching to tinker with it, to figure it out.
“This is a controlled entry point,” Stanford muttered. “If this is the gate, then some type of control room must be on the other side. These wires… they must be tied into a main power grid. Whoever controls this controls the entire town…”
Fiddleford’s eyes darted between the gate and the faintly glowing panels. Then he looked at Stanford, but he was too busy thinking to notice his stare consciously. “Ya think we can get through? We don’t even know how that thing works.”
Stanford’s mind was already working, of course, piecing together what little he understood already. “We don’t need to understand it completely. We just need to get past it. This device–” he pointed to the panel with the blinking symbols “–is clearly tied to the town’s infrastructure. If we can trigger the right sequence, we may just be able to force the gate open!” He became very excited as he began to formulate a plan.
“Trigger the right sequence? Stanford, yer talkin’ ‘bout hackin’ alien technology we barely know anythin’ about,” Fiddleford said with an awkwardness, like he wasn’t sure he believed Stanford could actually do it. But that just gave Stanford all the more confidence.
At first he didn’t respond, already moving his hands along the surface of the panel, tracing the symbols. He could feel the system’s warmth beneath the touch-sensitive surface, almost like it was alive. The technology may have been far more advanced than anything back on Earth, but the basic principles of control systems were universal – or so he hoped. His fingers danced over the symbols, attempting to mimic a pattern he’d seen flash briefly on the screen.
After a few tense moments, the panel emitted a low hum, the first actual sound they’d heard, and the symbols rearranged themselves. The gate creaked after that, shifting slightly as it began to open just a crack, just enough for them to slip through, and Fiddleford let out a small, breathy laugh when it did, half-relieved and half-incredulous.
“Ya did it… Stanford Pines, why do I ever doubt ya?” Fiddleford praised him, and Stanford would have typically relished it, but he was too stressed to bask in the glory of his accomplishment. He just shook his head, taking a deep breath.
“Let’s just hope we’re not walking into a trap,” Stanford responded, and Fiddleford nodded in agreement.
They squeezed through the small opening, unable to force the door open any further, and found themselves in an even quieter courtyard (if that was possible). The massive walls loomed above them, impossibly polished and far too symmetrical, perhaps being precision-built by machines. There was still no sign of any people, but they continued to follow the faint glow from the wires. They looked to lead off to yet another gate and yet another set of walls. Stanford felt his nerves growing then, especially given that, for once, Fiddleford seemed to be calmer than him. But he held the fear that maybe he’d gotten them into another bad situation. Maybe he’d really fucked them over that time.
Though he tried to remember the one thing that kept him steady: Fiddleford trusted him, and Stanford promised to get him home. That was one promise he swore he couldn’t break.
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