— —★ There was too much going on. Too much for Stan to really realize what was happening. It had been ten years since he’d last seen his brother, but the minute he got that post card, he went running back. He should have known better than to hope that things would go back to the way they had been before, or that Ford would even want to reconnect with him, but he’d been dreaming of this day for so long that it was hard to not hope to have his brother back.
To hear Ford wanted him to take some book, hop on a boat and get as far away from him as he could had shattered his hope, and his heart. But Stan wasn’t one to cling to that brief, overwhelming feeling of sadness that washed over him. Instead, it morphed to anger, and that was something he could handle.
They ended up fighting. It seemed to be all they were capable of anymore, which only made his anger grew. He wasn’t aware of their movements as they pushed, shoved, and punched at each other. At least, he wasn’t until he felt Ford’s foot kick him back and searing hot pain bit at his shoulder, burning through his jacket to the bare skin below. Ford’s foot let up, and Stan sagged to the side, hand reaching back for his shoulder. He hissed at the throbbing pain below his finger tips. Distantly, he was aware that Ford was apologizing, asking if he was ok. No way in hell he was ok. Not by a long mile, and Stan’s fingers balled into fists and clocked Ford in the jaw, the momentum sending them both through the door into the opposite room. That weird upside down triangle was bright now. Distantly, Stan was aware that his punch had thrown Ford against some sort of lever.
“Some brother you turned out to be.” Stan choked out from the lump in his throat, hand on his shoulder once again. He must have been a pitiful sight since the fight seemed to ebb from Ford, who rubbed at his jaw. He turned to leave, to limp back to his car with his tail between his legs, but Ford wasn’t done.
“Stanley, no! You have to take my research!” he was practically begging, but Stan found that he didn’t have it in him to listen. Ford’s hands were on him again, yanking him backwards and shoving him backwards. “Please, Stan, just listen to me for once in your life. You need to take my research with you.”
He thrust the book back at Stan desperately, and the force of it send him stumbling backwards a step. He thought he was going to fall, but it took a minute for his brain to catch up and realize that he wasn’t falling. He was floating.
“Woah woah! Hey! Ford, what’s happening?” he yelped, twisting his head around to see that he was floating closer to the-- what had Ford called it-- a portal? A punched gateway in their universe? Panic coursed through him and he looked to his twin, hoping desperately that his brother would do something to help him. But for the second time, his hope failed him, and his twin was merely staring at him in panic as Stan drifted through the portal. The last thing he heard before he was swallowed by the portal was Ford yelling his name.
Light burst out all around him, sounds crackled all around him as the scenery changed too fast for him to comprehend. He had always imagined he’d die as a result of his stupidity; a deal gone wrong, pissing off the wrong guy, or maybe just plain starvation. He’d never imagined he’d die as a result of his brother.
But death didn’t come. Instead, he landed on a hard surface with a grunt. Stunned, he paused for a moment before he pushed himself to sit up, groaning at how sore he was. He gasped as he took in his surroundings, realizing that he was surrounded by... himself. “What the--?”
