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When Stanely had still been allowed inside the state of Nevada, he had gotten drunk-Vegas married to a woman who was even better cheater at blackjack than he was. Their eyes had met across the casino, and it had been a roller-coaster of crime and alcohol for the rest of the night. By the time they had ended up in the chapel, with an elvis-impersonator reading their vows, Stan’s memory only works in flashes. Snapshots of improbable but awesome wins cheated from gambling-dens and feelings of dangerous mushiness mixed with mutual wild horniness. His last coherent memories from their wedding night get a bit weird, because he could swear his new bride had almost turned into a horrifying owl-beast in the middle of ill-advisedly acrobatic sex. It had been very hot, but probably just a hallucinatory side-effect of all the vodka and champagne that had been consumed during the evening.
Once Stan had woken up with the peculiar neutrality that comes when you mix the pleasant afterglow of great sex with horrible hangover of great drinking, he could do nothing but watch from the hotel window as his new wife stole his car and drove off to literally disappear into a hole in the fabric of reality.
This was not the most ill-advised, black-out drunk, monsterfucking, get-married-on-a-whim decision that one of the Pines twins would make.
An entity appeared in front of the Mystery Shack’s front counter. To her credit, after the initial scream of terror, Melody took this new development on a stride.
“H-h-how may I help you?” She stammered, looking up and down at the floating configuration of tentacles, unsuccessfully trying to find a face amongst all… that.
“Are you Stanford Pines?” The entity said, somehow.
“I-I’ll call him for you.” Melody said, holding onto her wits by the fingernails. Soos had been introducing her to Gravity Falls’ weirdness incrementally, and she had thought that she was already a savvy hand at paranormal, but this thing was no gnome nor unicorn.
“STANFORD!!” Melody screamed through the doorway to the living space, where the Pines family was eagerly exchanging stories of their year at sea/California.
The entire Pines (and extended) family piled to the gift shop to gawk at the creature patiently waiting for the hassle to calm down.
“I’m here for Stanford Pines.” It finally said again, when the noises died down enough for it to be heard again.
“Ah.” Ford stepped forwards. “I see that my interdimensional fame precedes me.”
“I’m here representing Theraprism outreach, inclusion, transparency, and family connectivity program. It only just came to our attention that one of our patients had family in this particular dimension-“
“Wait what- I don’t-“
“We at the Theraprism are very sorry for this oversight and the stress and confusion our mistake must have caused-“
“Are you sure you have the right-“
“But we are happy to tell you that your spouse was admitted into our program at the Theraprism mental health facility at about a year of local time ago, and is both safe and healthy...relatively”
“What!” Said most of the people in the room, with varying tones indicating various meanings for their what.
Mabel’s excited squeal meant ohmygoshgrunkleFordwhydidn’tyoutellusyouhadasweetheart!!!
Stan’s offended grunt meant whatdoyoumeanyougotmarriedontheothersideoftheportalanddidn’teventellme!!
“I don’t have a spouse.” Said Ford.
“Yes, you do.” The entity pulled out a holographic binder. “Here, I have the paperwork. Marriage legalised in the dreamscape of Universe X23456788 during a lucid dream of head-priestess Cjhghlykuäjpkämjn.”
Ford, suddenly assaulted by ghosts of lost, alcohol-soaked, hazy, whisp-like memories circling in the periphery of his mind, went deathly pale and had to take a step back to lean his weight against the cash-counter.
After couple of Myoclonic Jerks, Bill spun both of them around in the weightless void of their shared dreamscape. Ford, uncharacteristically giddy and drunkenly loose, laughed out loud at the ease of spinning.
“Hey Fordsy- Sixxxsher….We should go dreamhopping!!”
“Whut?” Ford blinked, distracted by how beautiful and shiny Bill was. Like an angel. A perfect divine angel. Or an angle. Such sharp and even angles. The symmetry of him truly was enchanting.
“Yeaah!! Let’s crash a dream of some bartender! Find a real fun joint to celebrate! Somewhere where they have karaoke!!”
Stanford, who had always thought karaoke to be a baffling waste of time that only people with less intelligence (better social skills) indulged in, was suddenly hit with an unbearable desire to sing karaoke with his charmingly staticky voiced muse. Some other, lesser, beings might think that Bill had an annoying voice, but they were all wrong. To Ford, there was no siren-song as soothing as Bill’s maniacal, high-pitched laughter.
“Can we do that?” Ford asked, their spinning calming down, leaving them floating in the void, holding hands.
“I can do anything I want sixer!!” Bill declared, wobbling a little where he was floating. Bill had a generally good constitution for mind altering substances, but even for him, it had been a while since he had had Myoclonic Jerks.
With s snap and a risky shift (that sober Bill would not have tried as willy nilly as drunk Bill did) between dreamscapes later, the pair found themselves in a dream of a (to Ford) alien bartender. Conquering the karaoke machine, which inexplicably had decided to host (to the original dreamer) alien songs like BABBA classics, the pair setteled right in.
“I WANT I WANT I WANT A MAAAAAAAAN AFTER MIDNIGHT!”
The bartender having the dream wondered what the fuck he had ate before bed that had led to this.
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Bill screamed into the mic while pointing at Ford.
“WOON’T SOMEBODY HELP CHASE THE NIGHTMARES AWAYYYYY!!!” Ford headbanged to the beat, self-conscience and shyness only distant memories of the past.
As their twelfth BABBA rendition ended on a note as uneven as the rest, Bill flopped to rest his side against Ford’s head, the electric feel of him buzzing pleasantly against Ford’s scalp. “Oh Fordsy… You sure know how to party… once you get going… dats good…dats great… once- once-sthe portal is done… we’ll party like this every day…”
“Oh Bill… You- you bring out things in me…” Ford giggled and ran a finger down Bill’s other long side.
“Let’s get more drinks!” Bill grasped Ford’s hand and floated insistently towards the bartop. “Two sex on the asteroid fields” he confidentially ordered and only missed twice before managing to float down to sit on the surface of the bartop. Ford managed to settle on the chair with only one stumble.
The bartender set the ordered drinks in front of the two horrible monsters and wondered if maybe his late-night snack before bed had been laced with drugs.
Sipping on the slightly glowing drink, Ford looked at his muse with besotted eyes. “You know…you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me…”
“Oh Fordsy…Tell me more about how great I am!”
Ford snorted. “You’re so vain.”
“Hey-!”
“I like it.”
“What?”
“I like it when you aren’t playing a role. When you’re weird. And annoying. And petty.”
“Hey now-! I am none of- Wait, did you say like?”
“Hmm…” Ford leaned closer. “You’re really symmetrical, you know that?”
Bill could feel himself suddenly humming with the kind of energy that in a flesh-body would have translated to blushing. “Oh, I- Well-“
“I’m really lucky. Reeeally lucky. Out of all the people and you chose me…”
“You know what sixer…wanna hear a secret…I think your brain is really pretty.”
“Really?”
“Really. It lights up like…like these perfect fireworks when you are solving equations.”
Ford got a wobbly smile on his strange mammalian mouth, and using his widened sight Bill could see that Ford’s brain was lighting up like a field of stars now too. The neurons sparking were different than when he thought hard on a problem, somehow softer, the lights slower but at the same time equally transfixing.
“I’m glad I ended up picking you too.” Bill laced his fingers with Ford’s. They had mismatching number of fingers, but then again, Ford always had mismatching number of fingers compared to other people.
Floating closer and upwards, Bill Cipher transformed his eye into a mouth and kissed Ford, who at first startled in surprise and then kissed back like a drowning man drinks from an oasis. Even eyes closed, the gentle golden glow penetrated through his eyelids as Ford kissed his muse, his inspiration, his divine guide…his best friend.
“Are muses allowed to do that?” Ford said after they broke apart, lips still hovering an inch from Bill’s mouth and vision full of gold.
“Would you stop if I told you they aren’t?”
“No.”
“Good. I wouldn’t kiss a rule-stickler like that anyways.”
With confidence of a drunk man, Ford rose from his chair, and flipped his muse until the triangle was laying flat on the bartop and he was hovering over him, hands on both sides of the shape, caging him in.
Bill Cipher was experiencing a maelstrom of feelings, topmost a Deja vu to being two dimensional. The way Ford was looming over him, with the lamp behind his head haloing him, made Bill feel like a small, two-dimensional, creature trapped under the gaze of a third-dimensional eldritch horror. Poor, mad, Cipher and his crazy eye, beholding sights unfathomable. Scared and trembling in the face of indescribable knowledge.
It was making him unbearably horny.
Gripping at the front of Ford’s shirt, Bill growled: “come down here you horrible, three dimensional, creature, you-“
Ford followed his muse, like he always did, and got lost in the sloppy union of their mouths, while Bill’s noodly limbs were doing their best to wound as close around Ford’s strange, lumpy human body as possible.
The bartender watched the disturbing carnal passion between a man and a geometrical shape, vowing to find out what he had ingested before sleep to cause this and then never get near that substance ever again.
Eventually the subconsciousness hosting this particular dream made an effort to protect itself from too horrifying visions by manifesting a bouncer that firmly told the drunk couple to get out and get a room!
“Hey-! You know what would be a great idea!?” Asked Bill, arms still circled around Ford’s shoulders, necking at the man under his ear.
“I don’t think I should do that.” Said the high priestess who had found herself pulled into a lucid dream, not of her own prompting.
“Excuse me!!” The small, angry, triangle shouted. “Why not!!! What do you have against a man marrying a triangle!!??”
“Yeah!!” The strange mammalian creature agreed. “Can’t a man marry a triangle if he loves him!!”
“You love me?” The small, clearly drunk, triangle gasped, tears brimming in his eye.
“Of course I love you!” The clearly equally drunk mammal answered. “That’s why I’m going to marry you!!”
“Oh Fordsy!! I love you too!” The triangle looked at the mammal with a pathetic, wet, stare.
“So, you!!” The mammal pointed a finger at the high priestess. “Marry us!”
The high priestess pondered the scales between these creatures being powerful enough to dreamwalk into someone like her dreams, versus the fact that they were clearly impaired out of their wits.
“What are you, a bigot?!” The triangle pointed an accusing finger at her.
Well now, rude. Then again, who was she to babysit powerful creatures like these. If they could dreamwalk, they could deal with the choices of their own actions too.
“I- That- That cannot have been legally binding!” Ford gripped the edge of the counter digging into his back with white knuckles, while memories to this moment lost to drunken oblivion returned to him in an awful tidal-wave “No, there is no way-“
“It shows here that you went through an entire binding ceremony with full vows, with the head-priestess being fully lucid thorough the whole dream-sequence. The marriage was even fully consummated afterwards-“
At that point Ford had jumped the tentacle-entity with a desperate war cry, while his brother gave him a look which was both disgusted and disappointed at the same time.
The tentacled entity calmly floated upwards. “As the legal spouse of one Bill Cipher-“
“It doesn’t matter anyway!! I want nothing to do with that equilateral bastard!”
“- We at the Theraprism are obliged to keep you updated and involved in our patient’s mental health journey.”
“Isn’t Bill Cipher supposed to be dead.” Stanley pointed out, trying to recover from the psychic damage that the word consummated had just dealt him. He was choosing to believe that it referred to some mumbo-jumbo alien magic ritual.
“Yes. His demise was the instigating incident in him getting referred to our program.”
“Right. Why did I even ask.”
“But he is locked up? Contained?” Ford cut to the most important thing they all wanted to know.
“Of course. Our patients don’t leave until their mental health journeys are over.”
“Fine. Good. I don’t want anything to do with that psychotic, evil….liar. Keep him there and throw away the key!”
“Right…” The tentacles shifted in what almost looked like uncomfortable fidgeting. “But our policies-“
“That monster tried to invade my planet!! He ruined my life!! All he ever did was lie and use me!! All he ever wanted from me was this planet…just so he and his stupid friends could come over and party so hard they would wreck it!! I spent the last 30 years trying to ruin him just as he spent the last 30 years trying to ruin me!!”
“Yikes.” Said the tentacled entity. “That sounds rough, but uuuhh, I don’t really want to get involved in the personal lives of our patients…not really my jurisdiction...” It sounded exactly as Stanford remembers himself sounding when the professor of chemistry at Backupsmore had showed up to the lab drunk and ranting about his bitch wife taking his antique car just to spite him in the divorce. With awful, despairing resignation, Ford calmed down and asked:
“Could I talk to someone more up high. Like a manager?”
The spider-like, many-eyed, many-tentacled, alien-creature looked at Ford with very unimpressed look of a social worker who was secretly judging you inside their mind.
“Mr Pines, while we at the Theraprism won’t of course force you into anything, I’m afraid that cutting the patient’s spouse from the patient’s records and emergency contacts is out of the question.”
The creature had the kind of rumbling voice which you could feel in your bones and a drawling tone which made it very clear that it felt like it was not being paid enough for this shit.
“But I don’t want to have anything to do with him! I don’t want to hear about him, I don’t want to think about him-“
“Frankly speaking Mr Pines, if these are your feelings on the situation, you should have sough divorce years ago. Or is it maybe that now that the sickness part of in sickness and in health has come, your commitment suddenly isn’t there anymore.”
Ford could only gape in open-jawed astonishment at the creature before him. How- How dare-!
“I didn’t even KNOW I was married to that- that monster!”
The look on the social worker’s face told Ford that he had somehow managed to sink even lower in its estimation.
“If I knew where to submit those papers, I would be doing it right this second!”
“Mr Pines, we aren’t the legal office.”
“Do you think I want to be tied down to that interdimensional criminal?!”
“Your records show that you have an interdimensional criminal record yourself, Mr Pines.”
“My crimes were all justified! I was trying to find a way to stop Bill’s plans and kill him!”
The social worker muttered something to itself in an alien language that Ford’s translator did not pick up, but the way it was rubbing between its eyes with its tentacles let Ford know that he was probably better off not knowing.
“Look Mr Pines, I’m going way out on a tentacle here for you, but I’ll print the interdimensional marriage annulment forms and instructions on how to file them for you. But I hope you understand what a favour I am doing for you.”
“Ah, of course. Very much appreciated.”
“Don’t tell me that Theraprism has never done anything to accommodate for less developed life-forms.”
Back at the shack, emotionally wrung out Ford finally threw himself on the sofa and started to read.
Few minutes later he took a firm grip on a pillow, pushed his face against it, and screamed as hard as his lungs allowed.
Bill Cipher liked to think that he had photographic memory. It was not true in the slightest, but he still liked to think so.
Seeing Stanford again, from the other side of plexiglass, yes, but still, the triangle was hit with nostalgic I forgot how attractive he was when he is angry.
More accurately, Stanford Pines was gorgeous when he was passionate about something, but the only passion Bill had seen from Ford in the last 30 years was his passionate hate towards him. So, you know, you took what you could get.
“Fooordsy! Did you miss me, of course you did, oh how you must have missed me!” Bill cooed into the phone on his side of the plexiglass. The hateful scowl on Ford’s face darkened as he gripped his phone in a white knuckled squeeze.
“I was hoping you would be dead.”
“Aw, you don’t mean that.” Bill laughed, twirling the cord of the phone around one finger.
“I need your signature Cipher, and then we can go back to pretending that you are dead.”
Bill took a moment to bask in hearing I need you in Ford’s voice, before even processing the rest of the sentence. “Why Sixer, I could offer you so much more than that!”
Ford grimaced before pulling a simple sheet of paper from the pocket of his jacket, and slipping it into the teleportation device connecting their rooms. “Just sign the damn form.”
Bill had pressured enough shmucks into signing contracts without reading them through first to know better than to sign anything without reading it through several times. His first read-through produced confusion, which he masked ruthlessly. His second read-through summoned up hazy and alcohol-tinged memories from a certain karaoke-night, while his third read-through finally let the puzzle pieces snap into place.
“No.” Bill finally said, pushing the paper back through the teleportation machine.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO!” Ford yelled, shooting up to stand and slam his other hand against the plexiglass, other squeezing the phone so hard it was a miracle it wasn’t cracking. For that reaction alone, it had been worth it.
“I mean no. I won’t sign it.”
“Why not?? You can’t possibly want to continue this farce- Being tied to- Oh who am I kidding, it’s inconveniencing me, so of course you want to do your all to keep torturing me.”
“Oh Fordsy, such cruel words. Maybe I just don’t want to give up what we have!” The triangle fixed his eye on the warden hovering nearby, giving his most innocent, pathetic, sympathy inducing look. “Maybe I want to fight for the love of my life and the special bond we share!”
Ford looked like he might be sick with rage, and Bill turned that wide-eyed, innocent, stare towards him. He lifted his other arm and placed his hand against the glass, opposite to where Ford’s six-fingered hand was. “I won’t give up on us.” He whispered loudly into the phone receiver.
Watching Ford storm out of the room, trench coat billowing behind him, was the most fun Bill had had in… well, since they had locked him in this maddening health-hole. Ford would be back. He would be back, Bill tried to console himself, frantically willing himself to believe it.
“Interdimensional law doesn’t recognise no-fault divorce!!!!”
Stanley looked as his brother paced around the kitchen table, pulling at his hair, looking like he was rabidly spiralling into some type of mania.
“I’m pretty sure that there is a lot that Bill Cipher can be faulted for. You know, the whole Weirdmageddon thing.” Stan pointed out, taking another sip at his beer. One of them had to stay mellow and cool, while the other had a meltdown.
“You would think so!” Ford ground out, kicking at the trashcan, which spilled out dirty wrappers and plastics all over the floor. “But the interdimensional bureaucrats are all sadistic, unfeeling, rotten, BASTARDS!! You know what I was told when I tried explaining that Cipher is a lying monster who tried to take over my planet!?”
Stan, who had very particular feelings about the inherent humanity of all legal institutions, and had taken it for granted that their nature was the same no matter the dimension, sighed and asked “what?” while already guessing the answer.
“That if we were married at the time, it was technically also his planet!”
“Hmm.” Stan hummed and bought himself time from commenting by taking a long sip from his can.
“I mean, how hard can it be to get one fucking DIVORCE!!”
“Hey, whoa!” Stan winced, thinking of the kids. “Could you maybe not use the D-word around the house-“
“What?” Ford paused and gave his brother a flat look.
“It’s just…” Stan tried to find the right words, “you know that the twins’ parents are going through it.”
“What?” Ford’s anger slowly simmered out, giving space to confusion.
“Yeah…last summer they sent the twins to me to get some space to work things out. Expect it seems like it did not work, as they’ve started the separation process. Apparently, the custody negotiations are… not pretty. The twins are… bit sensitive about it all right now.”
Ford blinked at him slowly, before slowly and forcefully articulating. “I’m not staying married with Bill Cipher for the kids!!”
“Yeah, obviously not. That’s not what I meant. I meant that maybe avoid talking about it with the twins. They deserve a summer without having to think about Bill Cipher or their parents’ divorce.”
“Right. Right, of course.”
A somewhat comfortable silence fell around them, as they both sat around the kitchen table, staring at the old stains on the wooden top.
“Well, it’s like pops always used to say: marriage is terrible.” Stanley finally forced out a laugh.
Ford simply stared at him, looking tired.
“Yeah, he was not a man of many words, old pops.”
“No, he was not.”
“Alright Cipher!” Ford stared at the triangle stuffed (somehow) into an orange jumpsuit. It had to be said, seeing Bill like this, it had been a certain blessing. The eldritch pyramid creature of his nightmares had completely disappeared from Ford’s dreams, once he had seen the certifiably ridiculous current state of him.
“Sign the papers. Or else.” Ford had read through the legalise that the Theraprism directory had so kindly went out on a tentacle for getting to him and he was prepared. One way or another, he was getting unbound from Bill Cipher.
“Or else what?” Bill simpered into the phone.
“Or I’m taking us to couples therapy!” Ford spat out. They wanted proof that there was fault. Oh, Ford could give them fault! Ford could so prove them that there was fault enough to fill an ocean.
Seeing Bill momentarily blanch at the words gave Ford some satisfaction. It almost gave him hope that Bill would just sign the damn papers, instead of subjecting himself to a prolonged humiliating mummery. But then the triangle just leaned back where he was sitting. “Sounds great, Sixer!”
Session 1
Mr Pines. Mr Cipher. I’m so glad that you have chosen to take this road together.” The therapist sitting on a plush armchair had a soothing voice like an ambient soundscape of ocean sounds, and inscrutable face made of a slowly spinning disk of light. “Now, just to start things off, what would you describe as the main source of tension between you two.” The therapist continued, looking (?) at Ford and Bill, sitting tensely next to each other on a comfortable, but sturdy, inoffensive couch.
“The fact that he is an unrepentant psychopath who feels no empathy and thinks of nothing but himself”, Ford immediately spat out, looking from the corner of his eye as Bill happily preened on the sofa next to him.
“Now, now, Mr Pines, in here we don’t make statements about what other people are thinking or feeling. Instead, how about we try using I statements.”
“Fine! I think that the fact that he tried to invade my planet and kill my family made me feel betrayed and I think that if there ever was a sliver of real feelings from his side, he wouldn’t have lied to me about trying to invade my dimension!”
“Well, I feel like the fact that you were willing to leave me to rot in my decaying dimension justified me forcing the rift open. I felt like me and my friends deserved to get out of the way from the oncoming entropy of the nightmare realm!”
“And I feel like my dimension did not deserve to be destroyed for it!”
“And I feel that I wasn’t destroying your dimension, but making it better!”
“Oooo-kayy. Please sit down, both of you. I see that we have some big issues with communication to work through, first of all.”
“Marriage counselling!?? That’s your plan!!”
“Sure. I’ll get the therapist to agree that I’m an innocent victim who doesn’t deserve to be unfairly tethered to someone like Cipher, and boom, the divorce court has to annule the marriage.”
“Right… now don’t take this the wrong way Sixer…just how confident are you in your acting skills?”
“Why would I need acting skills?”
“Look- We all know what kind of a person you really are. It’s just that… for an outsider… you sometimes can come across a bit…mad scientist-ty. Which is not true! But. Those therapy jerks might get the wrong picture if you aren’t- if you don’t maybe fudge the details a little bit.”
“Ooor…Maybe you and Bill will remember how much you liked each other and he will apologise and promise to not be evil anymore and you can go back to being in love.”
“Mabel, sweetie, I thought you and Dipper were asleep.”
“But grunkle Stan…love!”
“Ugh….No Mabel, we are not getting back together. And c’mon Stan. What’s the worst that they could conclude? That we deserve each other or something?”
Session 2
“-And the first thing! The first thing he says after I’m finally back is to accuse me of cheating!! Of inspiring some other scientist behind his back-!!”
“-Oh please! As if you weren’t constantly nagging and whining about how much time I was spending with Fiddleford. Always with the jealousy-“
“-With this snide tone, not even asking where I had been- just immediately going: ‘Were you busy posing for tapestries for some other mad geniuses’- How do you think that made me feel-!”
“-Trying to drive a wedge between me and Fiddleford, just not being able to handle even the idea that I had friends outside of him-!”
“-Oh yees! Because you were so accepting of my gang of interdimensional criminals and nightmares-“
“-Got even into a snit about the idea of me getting a pet for myself-“
Session 5
“-You used to talk about how much you wanted to ‘show them all’ and make those ‘small-minded bullies regret not taking you seriously’ and how one day they would all ‘look back and lament how they hadn’t shown you the respect you deserved’! Of course I thought that you would be happy to rule by my side over a realm of chaos and revelry of our own!!-“
“I didn’t mean- I never actually wanted- I wanted people to be impressed because of my achievements! Not because my partner had turned the planet into a living hell-!”
“-Living hell!! Really Sixer?! When its your plans to change the world and guide humanity into new enlightenment, it’s an utopia just waiting to be realised, but when I try to re-decorate, I’m ‘creating a living hell’ I see how it is-“
“You are the most selfish, self-centred- Not once in our entire partnership did you talk honestly about your plans- And you KNOW it’s because you knew I would never agree to them- “
“What’s made you look so chipper?”
“I think I’m winning.”
“Winning at what?”
“Counselling.”
“You think you’re winning at marriage counselling?”
“I am.”
“You know what. I’m not even going to say anything. With my track record, I have no room to comment. Go win at couples therapy, Pointdexter.”
“Thanks Stan, I will!”
session 8
“-And possessing me! I would wake up with bloody knuckles and worse-“
“You were refusing to talk!! I tried over and over and over to just talk it out!! All those post-it notes, and you were just stonewalling me!! I had to get your attention-“
“You were trying to wear me down and you fucking know it! Until I would be scared and in pain enough to just do as I was told, before you killed me with your stunts!!”
“Oh please. We both knew that I needed you alive and healthy enough to work on the portal. Surely you weren’t dumb enough to think you were in any real danger? Besides, if you had just sat down to talk things through-”
“Fuck you Cipher, you gaslighting motherfucker. You were trying to make Stanley think I was suicidal.”
…
“What, no quick comeback?”
“I have. I have several. But I don’t think I want to say them.”
“Well! Isn’t this progress!! I would call this progress!” Their therapist clapped its hands together, and even without a face, one could hear a desperate, forced smile on its voice.
Session 10
“You KILLED ME Sixer!! Is that not enough? Are you not the winner? Didn’t you point a gun at me and pull the trigger? Hate me all you want, but between the two of us, I was not the one with the guts to kill the other.”
“Yeah? And what if it had been me threatening to destroy your precious nightmare realm? Threatening your henchmaniacs? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have reduced me into atoms.”
“No. I wouldn’t have.”
“Grunkle Ford, why do people stop loving each other?”
Listening to the raindrops drumming on the roof of the Shack, Ford had been sitting on the living room sofa, reading and drinking tea, when Mabel had tip-toed downstairs and curled next to him. It was late, late enough that Mabel should have been asleep hours ago, but the fragile tone in the girl’s voice halted Ford from saying that.
Well, sometimes you give all your love and devotion to someone who is secretly planning to destroy your planet, Ford thought, and also didn’t say that.
“What’s going on, pumpkin?”
“Nothing.”
“Clearly something is up,” Ford said and put his book away, giving the girl his full attention.
“I know that Bill is bad, and I don’t even like him…and he literally tried to destroy the world…but do you think there could still be a chance that you two could make up?”
Ford let out a long sigh. “Mabel… it’s…he tried to kill you.”
“It’s okay. You have my permission to forgive him.” Mabel’s voice was lacking all its usual energy and cheer, and it was making Ford worried.
“That’s not really how that works… Mabel, what prompted this?”
“I just… Mom called me earlier tonight.”
Oh.
“Mom and dad were so happy and so in love… and then suddenly they just…stopped. How can you live in a world where that can just happen? Where people just- stop loving!”
“I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“What if they stop loving me?”
Ford wrapped an arm around the girl who had retreated into sweater-town. “They won’t.”
“How can you know. They stopped loving each other.”
“It’s… I think that the love you feel for your children is different than for your spouse. It’s more…unconditional. People talk about unconditional love when it comes to marriage all the time, but that’s not really true. When adults fall in love there are a lot of conditions applied. Don’t lie to me. Don’t hurt me. Don’t use me. We forgive more from our children. Or at least most parents do… But the point is that people get married with certain expectations, and sometimes people change in ways that no longer meet those expectations… or they never did and you just realise that they were lying from the start. But with your children...it’s different.”
Mable did not emerge from the depths of her sweater, but she did lean a bit harder on her Grunkle’s chest.
“Did you really love Bill, at some point?” Could be faintly heard, beneath the layers of pastel-coloured yarn.
He could have said that no, of course not, that he had made a drunken mistake, that he had admired the so-called-muse, had been dazzled by the assumed divinity, that he had been so skilfully manipulated he hadn’t had any say in his own emotions- he could have said any of those things and maybe all of them would have been part of the truth- but – this was also the truth.
“Yes, yes I did. He was weird, and a little bit mean in a fun way, and so, so smart. He was easily distracted and easily bored, and being around him always left you feeling a bit more energised than before. And I genuinely thought that all those idiosyncrasies that I found charming were the worst of his faults. That I had peeked beyond the mask of the unflappable muse and seen the real personality beneath. I…. really loved that idea of him.”
“Do you think you could love him again? If you knew for sure, sure, sure, sure that he was really sorry and knew for sure, sure, sure, sure that he wouldn’t do evil things again, could you then forgive him?”
Could he? But that wasn’t really what Mabel was asking. What Mabel really wanted to know was if she should still believe in love, even in the midst of her parents (which sounded pretty ugly) divorce.
“First of all, love and forgiveness are two different things. You can still love someone even if you don’t forgive them. I think in a way I still do love at least that version of Bill Cipher who existed as my muse for that short time, whether it was complete fabrication or not. But to your question…if I was sure, sure, sure, sure…maybe.”
Mabel’s head peeked back out from the depths of sweater-town. “I think mom and dad are still mad at me. I did something…stupid back in California. I thought- I was trying to- I just wanted our family to stay as it was. I shouldn’t have meddled… I should have known better, learned my lesson, but I really thought- it doesn’t matter. Both mom and dad were really angry, and they say its fine now, but they don’t sound like they mean it- and I’m just afraid that what happened between them is going to now happen between us. That they will never forgive me!” Mabel was openly sobbing by the end of her spiel. “And they don’t even know all of the things I’ve done; they don’t even know that I caused Weirdmageddon!”
“You did not cause Weirdmageddon! That was all Bill’s fault. And if we go looking for others to blame, then it was me. I didn’t warn you about the rift, like I should have. Besides, you’re a kid. You’re allowed to mess up, even really mess up. It doesn’t make you unlovable. You didn’t mean to harm anyone and you feel bad about it now. That’s all anyone can ask of you.”
“But I did.” Mabel whispered into her grunkle’s shirt. “I’ve been thinking and- I wanted to trap us all into eternal summer. No matter what Dipper wanted, or what you wanted, or Soos wanted, or Wendy wanted, or grunkle Stan wanted. Isn’t that… kind of… like what Bill was trying to do?”
“Bill’s an adult. I’m an adult. Your parents are adults. We should know better. No, it’s not the same. And unlike Bill, you realised that what you did was wrong. And your parents- well I doubt that they are really angry at you. I think they are angry at the whole world and it makes them sound angry at everything. But… the most important thing I can say is that no matter what, you have two grunkles who love you to bits. And always will.”
“Thanks, grunkle Ford.”
Session 13
“Let’s talk about your separation after the portal incident.” The therapist says, as calmly and soothingly as always. “Bill. Why don’t you tell us how you felt after Stanford stopped communicating with you?”
“Eh, annoyed, I guess.”
“You weren’t upset?” The therapist asked, suspiciously like it was about to set up a trap.
“Pssssh. No.”
“Really. Because I have A dimensional authority report here that-“
“Wait, what-!?”
“-Reads that you visited O’Sadleys multidimensional pub and got charged with drunken and disorderly conduct.”
“-It’s a pub, you’re supposed to have drunk fun-“
“To quote, it says that ‘there’s a triangle, I think he’s had a lot to drink, he ordered one sixer please, we told him that didn’t make any sense, and he started crying-“
“-That…Must have been some other triangle…”
“The report goes on to say that you, ‘started, just, like, trashing the place-“
“-Sounds nothing like me, I would never-“
“-Then stole the phone and screamed at the dispatcher asking where your mom was.”
Ford couldn’t help but stare at the triangle next to him, vaguely wondering if it was ethical for the therapist to just read out Bill’s personal police records like that, but mostly just feeling vindicated seeing how mortified Bill looked.
“I don’t remember any of that happening.” Bill finally settled into saying.
“Would you say that your separation from Stanford was emotionally trying for you?”
Huh. As difficult as it was to imagine, that almost sounded like the Bill Ford had always thought he had known. Impulsive and annoying and more emotional than he himself realised. The image was pulling up unwanted memories from a certain karaoke night.
“Would you say that rearranging all your organs would be painful to you?”
“Certainly.” The therapist calmly chuckled. “Luckily nobody has the power to do so.”
Bill glowered even harder and kicked at the legs of his chair with his heels.
Stanford tried not to think I miss you.
“You know pointdexter, remember how you were planning to convince the therapist after couple of sessions to sign the interdimensional divorce papers? How’s that working out for you?” Stan didn’t even lift his eyes off of the magazine he was reading, while Ford combed his hair and dapped some nightmare-realm-dust behind his ears, for that eau-de-interdimensional-adventurer scent.
“I’m working on it.”
“Really?” Stan deadpanned. “Are you sure that you aren’t using this as an opportunity to have your cake and eat it too?”
“What are you talking about?” Ford turned to properly look at his brother, rooted on his armchair.
“I’m just saying that it’s pretty convenient, isn’t it. your homicidal ex kept in a secure cell, where you can visit him and play your little nerd mind games, with no real danger attached. Perfect little toy for you to take out and put back in the box.”
For a moment Ford saw pure red, before he took a deep breath and forced the cruel replies back in.
“It’s…not like that.”
“Isn’t it?”
The two brothers stared at each other for a moment, before Stanley sighed. “Just be careful.”
session 16
Ford looked at the crackling wound crossing through Bill’s form. It looked…wider than it had last time. The idea made something squirm uncomfortably in Ford’s guts.
“Bill- Your- that-“
“Oh that!” Bill also looked down at the gaping crack on his front. “Was thrown in the Solitary Void again! Can you believe it, just for some innocent mischief! For some reason it seems that the crack tends to get worse in the void… But who doesn’t enjoy seeing their own guts spilling out!! Pain is funny!”
Ford shifted on his seat. He didn’t actually know what the methods of care inside Theraprism were, not outside this room. He was almost on the verge of asking- what exactly he wasn’t sure- but their therapist started speaking with a voice like a gentle chime, saving Ford from that impulse.
“How about we talk about your past in the context of your troubles with forming healthy relationships.”
“I have no-“
“How did it make you feel when you killed your family and dimension? Do you think it has left you overly possessive of relationships you still have now.”
Ford almost choked on his own spit, which was nothing compared to the utter blankness that had overtaken Bill. And fuck it- Ford had ignored and denied it, but the nostalgia had creeped into his veins and attached itself there like a fungus. He had not forgiven, but he did still love.
“I don’t think that’s appropriate.” Ford said, as calmly as he could.
“I do think that in the context of-“
“No. It’s private. I do know what happened to his dimension-” and goddamit if he didn’t slide so easily back into that old feeling. That possessive hold- I know things about my muse that no one else does, he trusted me enough to tell- we are a team, don’t you dare to try to wiggle in, you outsider! “We’ve talked about it-“ and yes it did come off as territorial, “-and there is no reason to drag it up again now.” He wasn’t exactly proud of how easily he slid back into that feeling, but it was what it was.
The light circled few times, before it started speaking again. “I see. Of course, we don’t want to force anything in here, Mr Pines.”
It hit him then, that no matter how condescending the directories were towards him for being a 'lower lifeform', between him and Bill, he was still the only one who got his opinions and consent respected.
“Hey, grunkle Ford,” Dipper said trying to sound casual and failing, while they were exploring the forest together, mapping out gnome-migrations, “you know how they let you visit in that weird asylum prison thingy because you’re legally married to Bill or whatever.”
“Yes.” Ford said carefully, waiting to hear into which direction this conversation would go.
“Well, I was just thinking, if- I mean when, obviously, when you manage to get that binding broken or something- would they still tell you if Bill escaped?”
Ford paused where he had been walking and looked at Dipper. The boy was trying his hardest to not look scared, but he was failing. “Just, you know, if it did happen-“
“Calm down Dipper.” Ford placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, who was dangerously close to winding himself into an anxious spiral. “I-“ he had never actually stopped to ask that question himself “I’ll make sure of it.” He settled into answering. At least Dipper seemed comforted with it.
Bill Cipher’s important downtime of filling the white walls of his cell with pictures of red and blue triangles was interrupted by a guard who expressionlessly informed him that he had visitors.
Curiosity prevented Bill from putting up his usual theatrics with the guards, and instead let himself to be escorted into the visitors’ area peacefully.
From the other side of the plexiglass, he was met by two faces he had never, ever expected, nor especially wanted, to see again.
“Look kids, he’s completely harmless. Not a giant pyramid, and not an all-powerful chaos-god. Just a sad shape in an ugly jumpsuit.” Ford was holding the other end of the telephone off the wall, clearly because he wanted Bill to hear. Suddenly woken up from the grey medicated stupor, Bill rushed to his end of the phone-line.
“Hey!! I make this crime against fashion work!” He yelled into his side of the receiver.
“Oh wow, you weren’t kidding grunkle Ford. He does look sad and pathetic,” the lamer twin said, where he was still holding Ford’s hand, while the superior twin had rushed up to the glass and pressed her entire face against it.
“Wha- what is this Sixer?” Bill had to ask.
“The kids were having nightmares, so I thought that what better form of reassurance than to show them what shape you’re currently in.”
“Triangular?”
“Haha. Non-threatening.”
“I’m always threatening.” Bill grumbled, trying to still believe it himself.
“He’s so much smaller than I remember,” the superior twin said, where she was still squashing her nose against the glass.
“I’ve also come to tell you that I’ve made an important decision.” Ford continued. A sinking feeling suddenly settled at the bottom of Bill’s base, a foreboding that suddenly the world was going to shift on its axis and he would be left all alone
“I’m not going to divorce you.” Stanford said and world settled back into its place, but it felt like it shouldn’t have. Like it had already tilted too far and somehow it had settled back without anything breaking after all. It felt…weird.
“That’s right!” the superior twin exclaimed and pulled back from the glass. “Love wins!”
“Pretty sure that love just lost.” muttered the lamer twin, probably thinking that Bill wouldn’t be able to hear. The superior twin rushed to the teleporter and pulled a wrinkled piece of paper from her pocket. “Here, I made a quiz to commemorate this occasion.”
The paper materialised on Bill’s side of the barrier.
Do you still like like grunkle Ford??
- Yes
- definitely
- absolutely
“Hey!! This is rigged!”
“I know.” The superior twin smirked at Bill, almost impressively villainously. Well. Bill could work on it. Now that they were family and all.
“Oh Sixer. So you finally realised that being stuck with me for the rest of eternity is actually the preferrable mode of existence. Can’t fault you, I’m an awesome guy.”
“Grunkle Bill! Grunkle Bill! Grunkle Bill!” The superior twin had started chanting.
“Oh, Bill. My muse divine. I’m not stuck with you. You’re stuck with me.”
Bill couldn’t help the way his eye crinkled slightly. Ford recognised it for the tentative smile it was.