Work Text:
Bill woke up in a cold sweat, his throat uncomfortably tight and itchy as he breathed. He coughed out, ragged and heavy. This seemed to wake up Stan, who was asleep next to him.
“Bill? You okay?” He turned around to face him and Bill only let out a whine in response. He was shaking and weak, dwelling pressure in his chest. He coughed again, feeling himself gag over raw air and his own spit. Stan immediately got up, grabbing the trashcan nearby and helping Bill sit up straight.
He positioned the trash can underneath Bill's head, pulling his hair back. It had gotten longer since Ford had gone, and was pushing just above the middle of his chest. Bill continued heaving until nothing but stomach acid flowed out of his mouth. He could feel himself crying and panicking as his throat convulsed and expelled the contents of his stomach.
He had never been sick before, especially in a human body. The last time he remembered throwing up was.. when he was with Ford and the days leading up to his surprising conception. He felt panic overtaking his body as he continued to throw up, nearly choking on his own vomit. He tried to breathe, only to get a lung full of his own stomach acid.
Stan could see Bill panicking and he rubbed his back, letting him get everything out of his system. He couldn't really tell what was going on, confused as to why Bill was so afraid.
Bill could only see flashes of what had happened to him, feel him sliding down his throat and the pain in his stomach all those months ago. When he was done and his stomach was empty, he backed up against the wall, clutching at his chest and kicking his legs out in a rhythm. Stan cursed under his breath, petting at Bill’s hair and trying to calm him.
His touching only worsened Bill's delusions. He could only feel Ford, and nobody but Ford. He could only see Ford in Stan's face, curse them for looking so similar. Bill kicked his legs out, trying to get away and nearly falling off the bed. He cried loud and pleaded with everything in his body for Ford not to hurt him.
Stan still didn't understand, trying to grab Bill, to calm him down, but nothing worked. Bill's crying seemed to wake the twins upstairs because seconds later Mabel was at their door.
The twins, after their 18th birthday that summer had decided to stay in Gravity Falls. Their parents almost didn't seem to care, too caught up in their own affairs to really notice. They were too busy arguing against each other.
“What happened?! What's going on??” Mabel asked, rushing over to Bill and Stan.
“I don't know! He just threw up and started panicking! He won't let me get near him!”
Mabel could tell the signs of what was happening to Bill. A mental attack of some sort. She was glad she had taken those psychology classes.
“Give him space- throwing up probably triggered him somehow and now he's stuck in the past, in his own head!” Stan reluctantly let Bill go, standing up next to Mabel. She stepped forward, sitting on the edge of the bed. Close enough to talk to Bill, but far away enough to give him space.
“Hey, hey- Bill! Look at me!” She pleaded, and by some miracle he did. He looked at her and her heart tightened. You could only see pure fear and confusion in his eyes, he looked distant, far away somewhere else. His lip quivered and a choked sob left his throat, she could see there was still some vomit sticking to his chin, crusting over now.
“You’re okay, you’re okay. Just breathe. He’s not here anymore, he’s gone.” She reassured him and he glanced to Stan. The aging man felt his heart sink. Bill had thought Stan was him. Him of all people. He could almost feel himself tear up at the realization. He was supposed to bring Bill comfort, and now after everything, Bill thought he was the person bringing him harm.
Mabel seemed to notice because she followed his eyes to Stan standing a few feet away. Her brows furrowed.
“He’s not going to hurt you, you’re safe. Stan loves you, I love you, we all do.” When Bill still wasn't sure, she asked Stan to come closer, which he did hesitantly. She grabbed his hands and Bill’s joining them together. Bill squirmed a little, sobbing again. He shut his eyes and shook his head vigorously.
“No, Bill stop. Look. Open your eyes and look down. You have to trust me.” He shook his head again until Mabel finally convinced him. Slowly, he unscrewed his eyes and looked down.
10 fingers.
5 on each hand.
He ran his thumb over Stan’s digits and it seemed like something clicked. In an instant he was sobbing out loud and throwing himself into Stan’s arms while apologizing profusely. He gripped onto Stan’s shoulders, body quaking as he sobbed into his chest.
Stan wrapped his own arms around Bill, uncaring if he was sick or not. He pet the back of Bill’s hair, soothing him and whispering affirmations. Mabel, still seated on the bed, looked at them with furrowed brows and a frown. While they had this happy ending for now, who knew what could happen in the future. Not to mention if Bill thought Stan was someone else again. She cast her eyes down, fiddling with her fingers.
Bill was coughing his lungs out, woozy and exhausted. Stan set him on the bed again, helped him lay down on his back.
“Mabel, could you make some soup? And bring some Gatorade?” She nodded and left the room. Stan sat next to Bill on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair, overwhelming dread filling the very object of his soul. Bill thought he was Ford. Even if it was only for a moment, that moment was enough to set in an everblooming insecurity in Stan’s heart.
Mabel had finally finished the soup, giving the bowl to Stan after he propped Bill up gently. Bill’s eyes were puffy and his nose was running, sniffles being heard from him and a groan.
Stan scooped a spoonful of the soup and guided it to Bill’s lips, letting him slowly take the food into his mouth. Stan continued this until Bill was on the verge of falling asleep, setting the bowl down and guiding him back down onto the bed. Mabel gave Stan a small smile and he returned it, although it was much more dull. Mabel noticed and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s gonna be okay, Grunkle Stan. He doesn’t actually think that of you.” She knew exactly what he was thinking and he chuckled bitterly, almost unbelieving.
“I hope so.”