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Ford cautiously opened the vending machine door. He looked around and saw the rest of the family in the kitchen. He straightened his coat and hastily walked over, only intending to ask Dipper to come down.
Dipper and Mabel were hunched over the table with their backs to him, giggling over a book or something. Stan shuffled up behind them with a can of Pitt Cola in his hand asking curiously, "Hey kids? We got anymore Pitt Cola?"
Then Ford saw it.
Thin blue lines were etched into the right shoulder of his brother. They appeared to be seared into his skin. If he'd been someone else, he would've thought that it was a tattoo with the way they seemed to be placed on his skin.
But the memory of a hoarse cry, garbled with pain, and the sick smell of burning flesh pervaded the room.
Ford nearly choked as it came full force. No longer could he see the pleasant kitchen, feel the firm pine boards beneath his feet, hear the soft bird song and the hard knocking of the woodpeckers, or smell the summer air wafting in through the windows.
No, he was back underground where dirt and dust filled the air and the room was steel that reflected red warning lights and an ominous eerie blue glow.
Instead of the soft yet solid boards, his boot was pressing the equally soft and solid body of his brother into a burning brand, as his twin- his family- screamed in pain as a symbol of his brother's near hatred was seared forevermore across his back.
The smell was strong and pungent, the scent of burning flesh and old wet clothes and sweat rose all around him.
Ford stumbled backwards blinking, and suddenly he was back in the present, mouth dry as Stan still stood behind the children smiling and well with that blue scar still scorched across his skin, a (literal) mark of Ford's failure.
Ford swallowed and watched Stan laugh at something the younger twins had said. Stanford slowly walked backwards and turned around to go but a someone asked hesitantly, "Grunkle Ford?"
It was Mabel. She spoke again, "Do you want to come in?"
A squeaky yet endearing preteen voice joined hers, "Grunkle Ford?"
Ford turned to see his great niece and nephew standing before them with wide eyes. He half-smiled and opened his mouth to voice an apologetic decline when Stan came up from behind the kids and raised an eyebrow questioningly.
Or... Was there also... Hope?
Surprisingly, what came out of Ford's mouth after he saw this was, "I'd love too, Mabel."
Dipper and Mabel nudged each other and grinned before taking Ford's hand and pulling him away from the dark vending machine door that led to the dank basement of bad memories, into the light kitchen that had been filled with their carefree laughter just a few moments ago.
The thing that made Ford feel best though was when Stan allowed himself a small smile that glimmered with hope and barely concealed joy.
And in that moment, it felt as if the world had righted itself again.