It’s time to rebuild.
Rev!Fiddlestan, mentions of past abuse.
Letting go of all that pain is impossible.
Stanley woke up in his hotel room still half drunk to the sound of paper slipping beneath the door. He rolls out of bed with a yawn and picks up the small envelope, opening it to reveal a shakily written note.
Stanley Pines,
You don't know me. But my name is Fiddleford McGucket. I've been working with your brother for a while now, and went to college with him. Ford's gone off the deep end. You're our only hope of getting him under control. Please. The fate of humanity depends on you.
-Fiddleford
Well, that was sobering. Stanley decides to get ready and head out, unsure of what he'll face.
“WILLIAM!!” Ford chased after the little blue triangle, angry and unsure of how he managed to escape. Will flew down to the basement, hurriedly attempting to restart the portal. Even his deteriorating home dimension was better than this psycho. He manages to start the portal up just before being grabbed and yanked away from the controls, being held just inches from Ford's face. “It's bad enough Fiddleford stole my journals, But now you're trying to run from me? The person who saved you from literal hell? Who's so generously offering a home in return for your power?”
“Let go!!” Will releases some fire, burning Ford's hand and floating off to hide.
“You're going to pay for that you little shit...” Ford followed Will, cornering him in a small alcove between machinery. That's when Will noticed Ford's proximity to the portal. He suddenly flies up, startling Ford and sending him tripping backwards to be sucked into the swirling blue vortex. And just like that, he was gone. Will could relax. But not before being grabbed again.
“What did you do to my brother?” Stan had just walked in to see Will push Ford through the portal. An overwhelming rage filled him and was betrayed by the expression on his face.
“Stanley, leave him alone.” Fiddleford ran in, breathing heavy. He grabs Will from Stan's iron grip, holding the triangle gently. “Trust me, Ford deserves this.”
“What do you mean?! Why does he deserve what just happened to him?” Stan's voice cracks and tears well up in his eyes as he wonders what the hell is going on.
“I think it would be better to explain at my house.”
“I see...” Stan set down his coffee cup, looking from Fiddleford to Will happily playing with Tate off to the side, “I honestly saw something like this coming.” Fiddleford set down his own mug and stared at the demon and toddler, slowly blinking. “He wasn't always like this.”
“Really?” Fiddleford almost looked relieved, as though there was still hope to save Ford from himself. “Go on.”
“When we were kids, he was the sweetest, most genuinely good person. He was always willing to help others and was just so much fun to be around.” Stan fought back tears at remembering their early childhood, days he thought he'd never get back. “Around the time we hit puberty, though, he began to change. I suspected it was because of all the shit Dad was pulling. Ford began to clam up and refused to talk to me about his problems. By age fifteen, he was a completely different person.”
Fiddleford's face contorted in discontent as he took another sip of coffee. Stories like this never ended well. “Explain.”
Stan sighed, blinking away pained tears. “In public, he made himself out to be a decent guy, kinda nerdy but still cool. He had plenty of friends. But behind closed doors, he became a monster. And because I was always right beside him, I was his personal punching bag.” Stan stood, beginning to pace as he spoke. “People would ask where my bruises came from, and I blamed my boxing matches. He broke my arm at one point. I said I fell down the stairs. But I stated beside him, because I was the only thing keeping him from going off the deep end..”
Fiddleford stood and hugged Stan, letting tears seep into his shirt. Stan just looked at him for a moment, not knowing how to react, before returning the hug and petting his hair. “At times.... he was so sweet, and I felt like he really didn't mean anything by his actions....”
Stan flinched and felt tears pricking his eyes again. “He pulled the “you're very important to me” card, didn't he?” As Fiddleford nodded and began to sob quietly, Stan held him tighter. He hated that Ford was like this. That he used people. That he hurt people. “Well, when I get him back, you can rest assured that I'll teach him a lesson for what he did. Nobody deserves to be played with like you were.” They were quiet for a while before Stan smiled, holding him a little more comfortably. This man deserves all of the love in the world.
“What matters to me is that you tried your best to save him from himself. That makes you very important to me.”