And in between the bickering, Stan was hard at work on his tourist trap idea. The Mystery Shack, he decided to call it. He would carve out big, wooden letters to place on the outside. The upstairs living room would become the gift shop. He’d turn the rest of this run-down house into his home, so he could make money by day and fix the portal by night. Jay hated everything about the idea, but there was literally nothing she could do about it. Stan had already started snatching up weird stuff scattered around the house and turning it into some kitschy display he was so certain would enamor people. Jay didn’t buy it for a second. He didn’t care.

“How are we ever gonna figure this out while you glue the arms of a raccoon onto a bear?”

Stan whipped around, one hand covered in glue, the other holding the bottle, both caked with fur. “How dare you insult the bear-coon!”

“Not calling it that,” Jay mumbled, crossing her arms. “Seriously, shouldn’t we be working on the important things here?”

“This is important, pipsqueak,” Stan said, narrowing his eyes and sticking his tongue out in concentration as he carefully glued a claw back into place. “I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you, this is what’s gonna make us money. Y’know, the thing we need to keep the lights on in this place.”

“Speak for yourself. I’ve never needed it.”

Stan snorted. “Yeah, because you live off sticks and mud and could get swallowed by a bird at any moment.”

Jay frowned. “A bird would never eat me.”

“Maybe if you were better lookin’ it would,” Stan said with one of those grins he only wore when he was very proud of his joke. Jay could only roll her eyes. “Did you whine this much around Ford? I barely know you and I can’t catch a break.”

That made Jay pause. Stan’s stupid wisecracks sometimes had a way of getting under her skin. Was she that whiny? Was Ford ever annoyed? If he was, he didn’t show it, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t. What she did know, however, was how Ford was when they first met. He wasn’t irritated in the way of somebody never shutting up, he was just… frustrated, that he couldn’t get what he wanted out of her.

“Hello? Earth to tiny?” Stan snapped a finger in her direction, not close enough to scare her, but just enough to make her jump. “Gah, I hate when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Zone out like that.” Stan had put the glue down, finally, and was facing her now. “Seems to happen a lot when I mention Ford.”

A long, almost suffocating silence followed. Jay knew what Stan was about to say, and he knew it. 

“Did… something happen?” Stan asked, more carefully than Jay’s ever heard him say something. “Y’know, before the whole – portal business. You never really talk about it.”

“Yeah, because I didn’t want to tell you,” Jay said with a breathy laugh. “It, uh… it wasn’t exactly an argument. Not like what you guys had. It was more like… he became unrecognizable.”

Stan tilted his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It was…” Jay paused. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to tell him about Ford at his worst. “He just… changed, a lot, from when I met him. He got more paranoid, more scared of everyone around him. Any time we told him something he didn’t wanna hear, he’d get upset.” Real upset.

“We. You mean, you and that… other guy.”

“Fiddleford.”

“Yeah. Fiddleford. Ugh. Who would name their child that?”

“Hey, be nice. Fidds was a nice guy. He was always kind to me.”

“I’m sure he was.” Stan paused, wondering if it was appropriate to ask this next question before he remembered he didn’t care. “And they really let you hang with them? They weren’t… I dunno, freaked out by your gross little hands touching everything? I mean, you’re the kinda thing my brother would just stick in a jar and ‘observe for science.’”

Jay shuffled in place, clearly unnerved, and Stan squinted.

“He did stick you in a jar, didn’t he?”

“Must run in the family,” Jay shot back, a little too defensive. She sighed as Stan threw his arms up.

“Hey, I said I was sorry! And I actually meant it!”

“Whatever,” Jay retorted. “I mean, it was fine. He let me out. Eventually.”

Stan groaned. He was tired of how vague she got any time they talked about Ford. “C’mon, kid, why won’t you tell me anything? He’s my brother, for pete’s sake! I can handle it!”

“Because!” Jay took a breath, not wanting this to get out of hand. “Because. I don’t… it feels – weird, to like, talk about all the things me and Ford did, knowing he, like… well, didn’t want anything to do with you.”

Stan blinked. He certainly wasn’t expecting that answer, or the kindness behind it. He didn’t know how to deal with niceties like this. He had to deflect.

“Psh.” He waved a hand. “Please. You think I’m gonna start cryin’ or something? C’mon, kid, you know me better than that. I’m tryin’ to gather evidence here, you know, so I can figure this damn thing out faster.” He jerked his thumb toward the portal room. “Besides, I wanna know what he said when he first saw you. Maybe, AUGH! Or or – OH, GOD, WHY?!”

“Okay, okay,” Jay laughed, rolling her eyes. “But he wasn’t exactly… welcoming.”

~~~

She had never seen a human quite like this one.

Sure, they were all weird and loud and intrusive. But this one was all those things dialed up to 100. He had just appeared in the forest one day, turning over rocks with a magnifying glass and frantically scribbling things down in a notebook. He wasn’t the first person to sniff around the woods, but he’d certainly lasted the longest. So long, in fact, that he built a house right in the middle of it all. Jay had watched the entire thing from afar, always cautious, always intrigued. She had seen the way he would treat these “anomalies,” as he loved to call them – most of the time, it involved wrangling the thing up and putting it through all kinds of stressful situations. If they could talk, he would talk back, but only while taking measurements and asking them invasive questions. 

It captivated her to no end.

She knew getting anywhere near the house was a bad idea, but the base of the tree was so cold. So lonely. If nobody was going to travel with her, she’d have to seek out company other ways, like watching the human. Maybe that's why no one wanted to be around.

Today, Ford was buried neck deep in some kind of plant he found outside. Jay had never seen it before, but it’s not like she had encyclopedic knowledge of everything in the forest. Ford muttered the word fascinating no less than 30 times. It looked like he would be here a while. Perfect time to snag a snack.

Taking stuff from the kitchen in broad daylight was no more dangerous than doing it under the cover of night. If anything, these guys were more active after midnight – it’s when they would guzzle gallons of coffee and finally remember to eat.

Or so she thought.

Ford was scatterbrained, sure. He was often consumed in his work to the point of his own detriment. Half the time, he forgot Fiddleford was even there.

But he was nothing if not observant.

It didn’t take him long to notice things shifting from their usual spots, even by a few inches. Food and drink he swore was there one minute was gone the next. But the real evidence was in the traces this little creature left behind – notably, the tiny little hand and footprints Ford was able to see with a blacklight. At first, he thought they were just amorphous blobs, but upon closer inspection, his breath was taken away – they looked just like human hands, only much, much smaller. He thought it could be a fairy, but why would a creature with wings be taking long treks across the counter? No, this had to be something different. So he laid the perfect trap.

Based on the frequency of his observations, it was clear this creature lived in the house, if not spent the majority of its time here. It was clearly intelligent to some degree, based on the attempted stealth and managing to stay fairly undetected. And almost all his evidence being in the kitchen pointed to its priority being food – as it would be for any wild creature, he reasoned. So he manufactured this exact situation – doing something he’d normally do, looking engrossed in something otherworldly, so the creature would let its guard down and scope out the kitchen. 

Ford snuck up to the door frame and pressed his back to the wall, clutching a glass jar with holes poked into the lid. His hand twitched as he peeked around the edge. The anticipation was killing him. What could it possibly be? Some kind of mouse-human hybrid? Or maybe a very tiny animal with human-like hands and feet. Maybe it was a fairy, but it was injured and couldn’t find its way out of the house. 

A twitch of movement caught his eye. He held his breath and rapidly scanned the counter until his eyes fell right on it.

On her.

Ford had spent so long cataloguing and studying this dimension’s weirdest and most horrifying creatures. The last thing he was expecting was… something so normal. 

It looked exactly like a person. Just. Small. Smaller than anything he’d come across in his research. It – she – had to be no more than a few inches tall. Her clothes looked like they had been fashioned out of scraps. She wasn’t wearing any shoes – that explained the footprints – and she had a miniature bag slung over her shoulder, another item that looked like it was made from a human-sized object. Her long hair was braided, slung over her shoulder, and she clutched a sewing needle in her hand, something that charmed Ford from the second he saw it. But he had to focus. He had to catch her.

Jay stalked across the counter, carefully hunting for any crumbs left over from the 4 a.m. snack session. She could have sworn she heard a bag of chips being opened at some point. But the more she searched, the more a pit began to form in her stomach. Something felt… off. Quiet. A bit too quiet for her liking. But not quiet enough to make her turn back and hide. She kept her usual level of caution, ducking behind whatever objects littered the surface, but not constantly checking the door. 

When she did, it was too late.

The jar slammed down over top of her at an alarming speed. It came so fast that she ran right into one of its walls, stumbling backwards and slamming her head onto the glass. Her needle clattered to the ground as she reached up to rub her throbbing temples.

Ford crouched down to get a better look, keeping one hand rested on top of the jar as he fished his journal from his coat pocket. Now that he was this close to it, he could confirm she was indeed a she. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He didn’t even know where to start.

Jay couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t just bad luck. No. She knew his patterns, and him coming into the kitchen like this was out of the norm. The realization came crashing down – she had been set up.

“Fascinating!” Ford’s voice was distorted through the glass, but commanding enough to still make her jump. “What a remarkable little thing you are. Are you a miniature human? Or a different species entirely? I haven’t encountered anything like you in my studies.” He adjusted his glasses as he began sketching. “Are you literate? Can you speak? Oh, I hope so. I don’t think the square-cube law applies to anomalies. Can you understand what I’m saying?”

Jay blinked. Was she supposed to answer all that?

“Ah. Well, I suppose if you were to speak, I doubt I’d be able to hear you.” Ford waved his free hand. “You can just nod your head yes or no.” He dropped his head and muttered, “Well, that’s all contingent on if she can even understand me…”

Jay was breathing so hard she thought she was bound to pass out. Humans were already fast enough, but Ford was moving at light speed.

“Let’s start with this. Can you understand my language?”

Jay stayed standing, her back pressed against the jar, cautiously eyeing Ford through the glass. For all the thinking and watching she did, she was wholly unprepared for this scenario. She knew she shouldn’t answer. She knew she shouldn’t give him anything to work with. It was against all sacred law to even be in this situation right now.

She had no idea why she nodded.

Ford’s eyes lit up like a light. “Wonderful! That makes this much easier. Can you speak?”

Another nod. Another smile from Ford. Another note in the journal.

“Do you have a name–? Well, I suppose you can answer that for me in a moment.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, but Ford kept going.

“Your bag and your clothes – you made those items yourself?” Another nod. “Remarkable. What craftsmanship. And the needle–” He pointed at it with his pen, completely missing the way she flinched. “–is it a weapon, or something of a tool for you?” Ford was still scribbling in his journal, so even if Jay had answered, he wouldn’t have noticed. In fact, he seemed to have entirely forgotten the question as soon as he asked it, because he simply wrote carries sewing needle before moving on.

“Now, we’ll need to start with basics.” He reached down to his side, but Jay couldn’t see for what. “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt at all.”

Jay stood there a moment, but it was too late. By the time she fully processed what he said, the jar was already lifted up and his hand was halfway to her.

“WAIT!” she cried, sticking her hand out and stumbling backwards like it would stop him. Ford didn't even notice as his fingers completely engulfed her view.

As if the normal five human fingers weren’t enough, the sixth added a sense of dread that felt inescapable. She squirmed and kicked and punched up at his fingertips, but all he did was smile in amusement as he lightly turned her from side to side and pulled her closer to his face.

“Calm down, now. I said I wouldn’t hurt you. I just need to take some measurements.”

Before she could blink, a wooden slab was smushed against her side. Jay shifted, trying to adjust her shirt collar so it wasn’t choking her. 

She had never been picked up by a human before. Hell, she had never even been this close to one. As much as she skirted the line of what was acceptable for a borrower, she never even dreamt of being so much as arm’s length away from a human. And here she was, dangling hundreds of feet in the air because this one wanted to know how tall she was. 

It was like death was gnawing at her from behind. She was so paralyzed with fear she couldn’t even think, couldn’t even formulate an escape plan. If she did manage to wriggle free, where would she go? Straight down onto the counter in a splat? All she could do was struggle. And hurt.

Ford sighed, and Jay’s eyes widened like saucers. “Please, stop squirming. I don’t want to have to pin you down.”

If his intention was to scare her, it worked like a charm, even if it was hard to stay still while being manhandled. The alternative was far, far worse.

“Ten point eight nine centimeters… approximately four-and-a-quarter inches… fascinating…”

Ford could hardly believe what he was seeing, let alone holding. He took some horizontal measurements of her torso before pinching her arm and holding it out to get her wingspan. He was amazed he could feel the way her muscles twitched and tried to pull away, no matter how hopeless the effort. Her arm felt lighter than a toothpick between his fingers. In fact, her entire body probably weighed no more than an ounce. Probably less. He’d have to make a scale sensitive enough to find out.

She was thrashing in his grip, and for a moment, Ford felt guilty. He supposed being dangled in the air wasn’t fun, but he had told her twice now that he wasn’t going to hurt her, and it would be much more comfortable for her to stay still.

“You’re certainly a feisty one,” Ford muttered to himself, jotting down another number. “It feels like your strength is quite great, proportional to your size. I wonder…”

Jay didn’t like the sound of that at all. But in classic Ford fashion, she didn’t have time to think. Just as promptly as she was picked up, she was plopped right back into the jar, her head spinning, her muscles aching.

She mustered up enough energy to get to her feet. “YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME HERE!” Jay shouted with all her might, and by some miracle, Ford heard her. His head whipped down, peering at her like she just spilled a secret only he knew. She flinched.

“My, your voice projection is much greater than I would have thought capable.” No matter what she actually said. “Were you shouting, or is that your normal level of speech?”

Jay was confounded by the question. He was captivated by the most mundane things. Of course she was yelling. The context of what she said should make it seem obvious. But he clearly didn’t hear her – not really.

“Hm. I’d imagine you were likely projecting. The glass probably absorbs a good bit of sound…” he trailed off, head back in his journal once again.

A terrible thought occurred to Jay. If Ford wouldn’t even let her answer the questions he was asking her directly… was he going to listen when he didn’t ask? Would he even realize she was talking? Would he ever hear her?

As she craned her neck to look up at him, she suddenly realized there was a sharp, nagging pain pulsing at the base of her head, right where her shirt collar was tugging at her. She rubbed it and immediately felt a rash. She closed her eyes, hoping for just a second where the world would stop spinning and she could get her bearings. Ford was touchy. He was inconsiderate. He lived in his own world. He would never listen to her, never let her go. So what could she do, to get out of this mess she made?

Unbeknownst to her, Ford had noticed that she’d gone still. He put his pen down in the spine of his open journal as he regarded her with something he usually didn’t with his discoveries – concern. Ford was science-minded, but he wasn’t an idiot. She was in clear distress. He must have been missing something. None of the other things he’s discovered have reacted like this; sure, the more beastly creatures didn’t know what was happening, and therefore needed to be contained. But she wasn’t the first intelligent being he’s found. The gnomes were quite pleased to have someone take such a liking to them. The fairies were dismissive, but begrudgingly obliged. Even the zombies responded in grunts. Did this – she – need to be in a jar? Probably. She clearly intended to bolt the first chance she got, and Ford couldn’t let a discovery of this magnitude go quite yet. Not when he had so many things he needed to ask. Not when he was this close.

But she seemed smarter than the gnomes. More aware of what was going on. She knew she was being observed and measured. Maybe Ford needed to incentivize her somehow. 

And then he remembered.

Without a word, he stood up and shuffled to the side. The tiny thing didn’t even notice. He rummaged through the cabinets, trying to find something he could use. Cans of soup? No. Cereal? Maybe. More cans, this time vegetables. Yeesh. They needed better food.

He settled on the Cheerios. Honey nut, to be exact. Fiddleford liked a little bit of sweetness.

Jay pried her eyes open and turned her head when she heard the crinkling of a bag. She breathed in disbelief. Was he really about to bribe her?

“I’ve noticed your footprints in the kitchen,” Ford began, sticking his hand into the box. Jay clenched her jaw. How have I been leaving behind footprints? “I can’t imagine your stomach holds much, if your anatomy is even the same as a normal human’s. Have you come here for food, or something else?”

Jay wasn’t sure how to answer that. Yes. No. Both? Everything?

Ford waited a few seconds for a response and got nothing. “Have you ever tried Cheerios? I like the plain ones, but these honey ones are all we have at the moment.” Nothing. Ford kept going.

“Well, I imagine you’re quite hungry. Your body must burn a tremendous amount of energy at that tiny size just to stay alive.” He pulled a single Cheerio from the bag, marveling at it for a moment. Something he could pinch to dust with his fingertips must be the size of a beach ball to her. “Besides, I found you in the kitchen, so you must have been hunting for food to begin with." He lifted the jar, too quickly for her to realize what was happening, and slipped the Cheerio inside.

“There,” he said, feeling satisfied. “All yours.”

Jay stared at it like it was a bomb.

“Go on now,” Ford nudged. He had crouched down lower now, his face level with the jar. “It’s for you.” It sounded like he was speaking to a stray animal.

“...or what?”

Ford’s expression perked up at her voice. “Nothing. I want to keep asking you questions, so I figured a little food might help you along.”

Jay blinked. “You’re just… giving it to me?”

“Yes.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“And I don’t have to… you won’t…”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “I hardly think I’ll miss a few Cheerios.”

Jay was awestruck. He was being serious. This wasn’t some kind of sinister trick. At least he was candid about one thing – he wasn’t going to stop questioning her. There was probably nothing she could do to talk him out of it. But he had clearly recognized her intelligence on some level and was trying to placate her, however patronizing it was.

And then it hit her.

She could bargain.

“...how many more of those do you have?”

Ford tilted his head. “The cereal? The entire bag, practically.” He tilted the box at her, and she saw it was indeed nearly full. “Plenty for you, though I suspect you could only handle two at most before getting full.”

Jay did her best to ignore that. She had to be smart about this. Careful. One wrong move and –

“Would you be willing to answer more questions if I supplied you with food every day? Perhaps water?”

Jackpot.

“Um…” she was really hamming it up now. “You’d really do that?”

Ford shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It’s not like you’ll exhaust my supply or anything. Though I must say, you’ve been putting quite a dent in the bread. Fiddleford thought we had mice.”

That made her stop for real. So they did notice. Gah! How could she be so careless? This is why borrowers always move. This is why she was told to never get comfortable.

But did she not have all the comfort in the world ahead of her, if only she answers a few questions?

“Well?”

Ford was staring at her, wide-eyed, no doubt electrified that he was even bargaining with a being as big as his thumb right now. Jay sighed. She couldn’t believe she was about to sign her life away to a mad scientist for a little bit of food. But it wasn’t just that, was it? It was food, water, shelter, and protection from the outside world. If she was Ford’s little prized possession, he would make sure nothing ever hurt her. She would be safe here, even if she was under a microscope.

It was worth it. She had to keep repeating it. This is worth it. Not dying is worth it.

“...Okay.”

Ford beamed brightly. The next word came out of Jay’s mouth before she could stop herself.

“But–!”

Ford had moved to grab his journal, but paused when she said that, turning his attention fully back to her. She shuddered. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to get used to that stare. It wasn’t exactly the kind of look that made her confident to say what she was about to say.

“I… you… you can’t keep me in this jar.” She searched his face for a reaction, but he gave none. He was simply observing. “It’s – you – you need to let me out.” She thought for a second, then added, “Please.”

Ford kept staring, mouth agape, trying to make sure he just heard her properly. Jay gulped. I think I just made a big mistake.

~~~

“Well?”

Jay blinked. Ford was gone. Stan was here.

“Well what?”

“What next? What did Ford do? Did he let you out?”

“No, he never did. I’ve been stuck in that jar ever since. A harrowing tale.”

Stan rolled his eyes and smiled. “C’mon, squirt. I’m serious. Y’can’t leave me hanging!”

“This isn’t exactly fun for me to recount, you know. Maybe you should tell me something from your childhood.”

“Oh, no. Don’t go turning this around on me. I asked first, and you haven’t finished yet.”

“Fine, fine.” Jay studied him. “You… don’t seem surprised.”

“HA!” Jay jumped at the noise. “Kid, this is the least surprising thing I’ve ever heard. The only thing that shocked me was that he actually offered you somethin’ to eat.”

“Me too, honestly. I thought I’d have to beg.”

Stan looked like he was going to make a joke out of that, but refrained. “Honey nut Cheerios, eh? I’ll have to remember that.”

Jay smirked. “It can’t possibly be that hard to remember.”

“Oh? What was that? Looks like I already forgot.”

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered with a dry smile. “Can I continue now?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stan waved his hand. “But can you hurry it up? I’m getting bored with all this buildup and detail. Get to the drama!”

Careful not to trip over fallen objects, Jay made her way from her little hiding spot upstairs to the small pulley system Ford helped her construct to get down to the bunker. That had taken a lot of convincing, since Ford didn’t understand why he couldn’t just carry her down with him every time – “It’s much more practical!” he would say, dramatically pointing his finger up in the air – but she eventually persuaded him because he liked a challenge. It worked just as lowering a bucket into a well did, a simple enough mechanism that Jay could use herself no matter what. Ford was always fascinated by her raw strength.

The house was dark and quiet – nothing new – but there was an eerie feeling in the air that Jay just couldn’t shake. Something felt… wrong. Ford’s presence was easily felt, and Jay couldn’t sense him anywhere. The only sound was the snowstorm battering against the thin glass windows, making the wood creak and shake but nothing more. With one hand, Jay clutched the sewing needle that served as her protection. The other was pressed behind her back, ready to fend off anything from behind. It didn’t make her feel much better.

“What did you do now, Ford…” Jay muttered to herself, eyes darting left and right. It was hard to make out much of anything, but the usual controlled chaos of the main floor felt skewed, and it was clear to see from up on the table. Maybe once she got to her makeshift elevator, she’d start to feel better.

But she stopped short of the bunker’s entrance, because a sudden noise scared the living daylights out of her. She flung her needle forward, but nothing was in her immediate vicinity. She cautiously lowered the weapon, and it didn’t take long for her eyes to find the source. Standing in the center of the main room, staring intently at the journal like it was his last remaining possession on Earth, was…

“Ford?”

Ford froze, stiff as a board. Jay swallowed the lump in her throat. He was probably pissed at her.

“Ford…” Jay paused. She didn’t really think about what she would say if – when – she finally saw him. “What–what happened? Is everything okay? It’s–”

She was cut off abruptly when Ford turned around, and Jay’s stomach dropped so fast she thought it might take her through the floor. He – this man – he had Ford’s face, but this was not him. The hair was all wrong (he had a mullet, for Christ’s sake). The posture. The clothes. The look in his glasses-less eyes as he stared right at her. This wasn’t him. Jay was baffled. Did he do something to himself? Is this just what he looked like now? Could he really have changed that much in a few weeks?

Not-Ford blinked, then blinked again. His mouth hung slightly agape, and his eyes were blown wide. He looked dirty and tired, but most pressing, he looked mad. Mad at Jay.

“What the…” 

Not-Ford’s gruff, hoarse voice was the final nail in the coffin. Ford didn’t sound like that. Even when he was losing his mind, he spoke with a surprising amount of authority. He was just like that. This man… he sounded lost.

The reality of the situation hit Jay like a freight train. Slowly, she held her hands up and began to back away, like she was retreating from an animal. Whether this was some weird, alternate version of Ford or a complete stranger, it didn’t change the fact that she was being seen.

Jay was quick. Not-Ford was quicker.

At a blinding speed that Jay would never get used to from humans, Not-Ford had grabbed a jar from an adjacent table and slammed it on top of her, eliciting a very high-pitched scream. She jumped when a piece of paper replaced the wood of the table underneath her feet, and in just a few seconds, her world turned upside down. Literally. She was flipped to the bottom of the jar as Not-Ford brought her shaking form up to eye level.

“What the hell are you?” That rough voice was distorted through thick glass, but still terrifying. “And what the hell do you know about my brother?”

Jay almost choked. Brother? Ford had never mentioned a brother.

“Wh–who–where’s Ford?” Jay barely had the courage to speak.

“Oh, it talks,” Not-Ford sounded intrigued for a moment. “What, are you one of his experiments gone wrong? You’re so… tiny.”

Jay opened her mouth to respond, but her words died in her throat when Not-Ford – Ford’s brother, apparently – tilted the jar to the side, causing her to fall to the side with an unceremonious oof. He was observing her, like some caged animal. She tried to regain her footing, but failed miserably each time. Her legs felt like they were still stuck in those tremors. She wanted to yell at him to stop, but she could barely get air in her lungs as she was swirled around like water going down a drain. 

“Huh,” Not-Ford said, going still after what felt like a million years. “Did my brother do this to you?”

Jay stumbled and tilted her head. “Do–do what?”

“What do you mean, do what. Make you tiny.”

“Make me – no, he didn’t make me tiny,” Jay shot back, almost insulted. She felt the anger boil up inside of her when Not-Ford almost smiled.

“Oh, man, you really got the short end of the stick, then. Literally.”

Despite herself, Jay rolled her eyes. Height jokes. Very original.

“L–look, I don’t know who you are, but–”

“Can it, pipsqueak!” Jay actually had to cover her ears at the sheer volume of his voice. “I’m asking the questions here. Did you help him with this – portal thing?”

The portal. The tremors. Jay’s eyes widened. No. He didn’t…

Ford’s brother evidently understood her look of recognition. “Ah, so you do know about it. Well, you’re gonna help me fix it.”

“Wh–” Jay didn’t get a chance to speak as he swung the jar to his side. She flew into the side, and she tried to ignore the way her arm crunched under the pressure. The world whizzed by underneath her feet, and she could barely keep her balance with the way Not-Ford was lumbering around. Looks like she was getting a ride down to the bunker after all.

Jay’s mind raced with ways she could get herself out of this. As badly as she wanted to figure out what happened to Ford, she didn’t care to have this guy help her. She could easily find Ford by herself. Maybe she could try to find Fiddleford, too, but for all Jay knew, he was halfway across the world at this point, so that was probably a fruitless effort. He was very adamant about quitting when he left that night, which always made Jay sad whenever she thought about it. She sorely missed his calm demeanor and gentleness with her. She liked spending time with Ford, but at the end of the day, he had a tendency to regard her as some kind of scientific marvel, not a fully functioning person. Fiddleford never seemed to care. He just wanted to make sure she was safe and happy.

A harsh jolt brought Jay back to reality. Oh. Right. Not-Ford. Ford’s crazy brother. It had taken her a bit to notice, but Not-Ford’s hands were shaking. And the anger… it didn’t seem like he was mad at her. That made no sense; the only crime she was guilty of was knowing Ford. But the way he spoke about Ford – like he wasn’t here right now – and how the portal needed fixing, and he wanted help doing it… what exactly happened?

“Stupid secret bunker… stupid portal… stupid brother…” Not-Ford muttered. He was glancing behind him, as if Ford would pop out at any moment and yell surprise!

Not-Ford definitely got discombobulated, but he eventually found his way back to the control room. He threw the jar onto the main control panel, and Jay shut her eyes, hoping the sensation of moving would fade away quickly.

“Alright, short stuff,” Not-Ford said gruffly, slamming a journal in front of her. “Tell me how to turn this thing on.”

Jay started blankly at the journal. It wasn’t even opened to the correct section, and she could barely see over the horizon of the pages.

Not-Ford grunted. “Well, what are you waiting for?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Tiny people can read, right?”

“Wh–what makes you think I can do anything?” Jay managed to choke out. It had worked on Ford when they first met; using her diminutive size to her advantage. She had wriggled out of so many things she didn’t want to do by playing the useless card. 

Ford’s brother stopped. He abruptly grabbed the jar, lifting it up to his dirty, unhappy face. Jay gasped and inched back until her head softly hit the glass. Through the distortion of her clear prison, it looked like he was actually considering her words. If he was anything like Ford, it would work.

He was nothing like Ford.

“Heh, if you want to weasel your way out of this, you’re gonna have to try harder, tiny,” he smirked, placing the jar back in front of the journal. 

Jay shook her head in disbelief. “But – what –” she paused. Trying to reason with him wouldn’t work. This guy clearly didn’t work like that. With wide eyes and trembling hands, Jay considered her next move. Her primary goal of getting the hell out of this jar didn’t seem like it was going to happen anytime soon, and he obviously wasn't going to fall for a sob story. She could help him, but based on the way he’s been acting, he’d probably put her in a closet and forget about her as quickly as he found her. She looked up, trying to read Not-Ford through the warped glass. His hands were tightly wrapped around his waist, and his eyes darted nervously at every little sound. His demeanor didn’t match his tough-guy attitude one bit.

A lightbulb went off in Jay’s head: He’s desperate. And she could use that to her advantage.

“I’ll help you if you tell me what happened,” she said, sounding way less assertive than she wanted to. Not-Ford regarded her in something of a condescending curiosity before bursting out into laughter. Jay felt the heat rush to her cheeks. Why was he laughing? What was so funny? Oh, she shouldn’t have tried to play tough. She was in no position to negotiate.

“Trying to do this my way, huh?” Not-Ford leaned back in his seat. “Alright, I’ll play along.”

Jay was stunned silent.

“Go ahead, ask me what you wanna know. But don’t think about trying to be slick, because I have no problem shaking you around like a martini.”

It took her a second to gather her thoughts. She wasn’t planning on conning him, because she knew the consequences, but it was interesting that Not-Ford defaulted to assuming the worst. There were a million things she wanted – needed – to ask, but he was volatile. She had to tread carefully. So she started simple.

“Wh… what’s your name? And are you really… Ford’s brother?”

“Name’s Stanley,” he said, brushing some loose hair from his face. “And yeah, Poindexter's my brother. We’re twins.”

“Twins…” Jay repeated. That’s why they looked identical, even down to their names. But why would Ford never say anything about it? “I… Ford never mentioned anything about having a twin.”

Stanley laughed. “Yeah, that’s not surprising. We haven’t seen each other in years. He was probably tryin’ to pretend I didn’t exist.”

Jay frowned. Stanley sounded miserable saying that out loud, and she didn’t need to ask to know what that meant. 

“And what are you supposed to be? Some kind of fairy or something? I know Ford was into weird stuff, but this is just unnatural.”

Jay crossed her arms. “I’m a borrower.”

Stanley blinked. “You say that like I’m supposed to know what that is.”

“Well, it’s what… I am,” Jay said, gesturing to herself.

“Okay… so, what? You were Ford’s pet or something?”

“I was not – no!” Jay cried as that familiar sinking feeling entered her stomach. She was not about to do this again right now. “I am not a pet!”

“Okay, okay, yeesh,” Stanley said, throwing his hands up. “Sore subject, I see.”

“We were… friends,” Jay said cautiously. “He respected me. I think.”

“You think?” Stanley laughed. “Oh, I’m sure he did. He loves listening to other people. Especially when they’re the size of a doll.”

Jay felt the tears welling up in her eyes, but pushed past it. There were more pressing matters at hand than her feelings. “Where… where is Ford? What happened?”

Stanley froze, like all his bodily control was stolen from him. For a moment, he stared off into the distance, something flashing before his eyes that only he could see. If Jay didn’t know any better, she’d almost say he looked… embarrassed.

“I – he – we got into a fight,” Stanley said, hanging his head a bit. “One second, he was here, and the next, some wacky machine turns on and he’s bein’ pulled right into it! And I can’t get it back on, because in case you haven’t noticed, I’m the handsome twin, not the nerdy twin. So either you help me get this thing back on or I’ll–”

“Wait wait wait. He went through?”

“What, are your tiny ears incapable of hearing? That's what I just said!” Stanley cried.

Jay felt like she was going to throw up. Fiddleford walked out on site from what he saw inside that portal, and Ford went mad trying to make sure it was never used again. If he got pulled through…

“...he might not even be alive,” Jay whispered, her voice trembling as violently as her body. 

Stanley leaned in, causing Jay to recoil. “What? You’re gonna have to talk louder than that, pipsqueak. I can barely hear you.”

“I said HE MIGHT BE DEAD!”

For a moment, Stanley’s face remained stoic. But it soon twisted into a cocktail of sadness, rage and annoyance, his eyes practically glowing red, staring straight through Jay’s soul.

Jay tensed up. Maybe that was a bad idea.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. F-forget I said anything,” Jay stammered, holding her hands up. She retreated – as if there was anywhere she could go. Stanley could kill her in 10,000 different ways, and she didn’t even want to speculate about any of them.

But instead of taking the jar, Stanley just sighed. “That’s right, tiny. I don’t wanna hear any of that. My brother may be the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever known, but he is one tough son of a bitch and there is no way some – stupid gadget killed him!”

Jay opened her mouth, but stopped. Something piqued her interest.

“How… how much do you know about the portal?”

Stanley glared at her. “Nothing. That’s why I’ve resorted to asking some half-baked person to help me.”

“No, I mean… did Ford tell you anything about what it does?”

“Yeah,” Stanley said, though he sounded unsure. “Something about a universal gateway into unfathomable knowledge, blah blah, boring nerd stuff. Look, it doesn’t matter, just – tell me how to get it back on already, will ya?!”

“I don’t–!” Jay started to yell, but she took a breath. She couldn’t lose her cool. “I was here – around – I would watch when Ford and Fidds were working on it, but it’s not like I understood any of it.” Jay shut her eyes, waiting for blowback, some kind of retaliation. But it never came. Stanley just stared at her, eyes shaking. “Besides, if you only have one journal, you can’t… Ford wrote three journals, see, and they have to be combined to build it. Sort of a failsafe thing. Do you have the others?”

Stanley shook his head. “He told me he buried them or something. He didn’t want to turn that thing back on, I – I don’t even know what happened.”

There was a long stretch of silence after that. The two of them just stared at each other, unmoving. It was hard for Jay to put all the pieces together based on the limited useful information Ford told her after Fidds quit, but one thing was crystal clear – that portal should be shut down at all costs. Ford kept saying he was tricked, and using the portal again would destroy the universe. Jay believed him, too, because the kind of stuff he got himself into always seemed bigger than themselves. If Ford actually was taken through the portal, then that means it was turned on… and the universe was still here. No mass destruction, no end of humanity, no triangles. Everything seemed to be okay… except for the noticeable lack of Ford.

Ford. The first human she had ever talked to; one of the only beings on earth she considered to be her friend. Sure, he was obsessive, invasive and sometimes lacked humanity… but he was also protective, curious and caring of her. Jay hadn’t had to hunt for food in a year. She had unlimited access to cold, clean water. The worst thing she had to endure was Ford’s endless stream of questions and experiments, but it was a trade she’d make 100 times out of 100 if it meant sustenance, shelter and safety for the rest of her life. 

Above all, Ford trusted her. He would let her watch other experiments, take her on trips, and even contribute to brainstorming sessions. She would listen quietly as Ford and Fidds reminisced about their Backupsmore days and the things they would do to change the world. She felt part of it all. Ford made her feel part of it all.

So what would he want her to do, right now, in this moment? He would never want to put himself above the safety of humanity; not once he found out what Bill was really up to. He would rather spend a thousand years in another dimension than risk the safety of this one. Maybe the portal didn’t do anything this time, but would they be so lucky again? Something told her no. Maybe there was a reason Ford didn’t talk to his brother anymore. Maybe he was just reckless. With Fidds and Ford both gone now… it really was up to her to keep everyone safe.

Jay sighed, realizing she needed to say something before Stanley shook her around again. “Look, even if I – even if I wanted to, you need those other journals, and I – I don’t really understand all that mechanical stuff. I’m… I’m sorry, Stanley. I don’t know how to turn it back on.”

Stanley said nothing. Jay gulped. Oh, boy, he was mad.

“I – I just mean – I can’t –”

“What do you mean, even if you wanted to?”

Jay paused. The temperature in the room seemed to drop 20 degrees. “I– well–”

“My brother is trapped on the other side of some – some – some inter-dimensional weirdness, and you don’t even want to get him back?”

“That’s not – I didn’t mean –”

But she didn’t get to finish her sentence as Stanley grabbed the jar off the table, throwing Jay to the back of the glass again. “Listen to this, tiny! I don’t care what some half-pint wants! He’s my family! And if you’re not going to help me get him back, then – then you’re useless to me!”

“Wait, Stanley, come on, I –”

“And stop saying my name as if we’re on the same level here! You’re just some – some – some thing my brother happened to find interesting. You don’t know anything about Ford!”

“You’re one to talk, considering I’ve spent more time with him in the last year than you have for the last 10!”

All the oxygen in the room seemed to evaporate. Jay didn’t mean to say that, not really – sure, it’s how she felt, but she didn’t want to say it out loud. Maybe Stanley didn’t hear her. Maybe he wouldn’t even care. Maybe he’d just say you’re right and come to his senses.

Maybe not.

It was perhaps scarier that Stanley didn’t say anything in response. Instead, he simply blinked a few times, took a few breaths, then got moving. 

He didn’t know where he was going, just that he wanted to be anywhere but here right now, talking to anyone but – but – damn it, he didn’t even know her name. It didn’t matter. This stupid little thing was right about one thing – she’d spoken to his brother more in the last week than he had for a decade. What did Stan do to deserve this? Just because he broke his dumb brother’s dumb science project back in high school? And just when he was hopeful Ford was ready to turn the page, they got right back into it – and now he was gone, with no way to come back.

He glanced down at the impossibly small figure in the jar. How was this even possible? He didn’t think any of that fairy tale folk junk was real. And Ford would befriend it, too. They probably forged some weird bond over being weird. 

Deep down, Stan felt bad. He barely knew this little guy, and he didn’t really have a right to keep them trapped. But right now, he was pissed off and feeling irrational. The more he stared at this tiny being, the more it reminded him of everything he lost with Ford.

So he found the highest shelf and stuck the jar up there.

“HEY! ARE YOU KIDDING ME! HEY!!!” Jay kicked at the glass, as if that would do anything. “YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME UP HERE!”

“I can do whatever the hell I want, pipsqueak,” Stanley mumbled, not even bothering to look her in the eye. In an instant, he was gone, head down and hands shoved in his pockets. He had work to do.

“STANLEY!!!!” Jay gave it one more try, but it was no use. Okay, don’t panic. You’ve been in worse situations. Maybe I can just push the glass off the shelf. Jay slammed her body onto the side of the jar until she became numb. It barely moved an inch. Okay, maybe if I… no, that won’t work. Or I can… no, that won’t do either. What if… if… if…

“If,” Jay sighed out loud, her legs crumbling beneath her. She was trapped. Stanley wasn’t coming back to let her out. Ford wasn’t coming back at all. She would die here. What first, starvation? Dehydration? Oxygen deprivation? It was all the same to her at this point.

Truthfully, she didn’t know how much time passed. The low light of the bunker was the same any time of day, and she never saw Stanley pass by, so either it had only been a few hours or Stanley was working nonstop for days. The whirlwind of everything had finally caught up to her, and the cool glass of the jar felt nice when she laid down and stretched her body out. There’s not much I can do right now. I’ll think of something later…

The first thing he did was unscrew the lid; he winced at the loud squeaking noise it made. He stood still for a moment, questioning if he really wanted to do this. He could just stick the jar back up on the shelf, behind some books, and forget this ever happened… but this thing, tiny as she was, was a person, with thoughts and feelings and apparent knowledge on the very thing he was puzzling over. And sure, she may be weird, but Stan could really use some company he didn’t meet in a Colombian prison.

He carefully tilted the jar down and allowed the tiny person to slide onto his palm, thinking that would be enough to stir them from whatever deep sleep they were in. But to Stan’s horror, it was like holding an ice cube in his hand. They were freezing. No wonder they weren’t waking up. 

He groaned, keeping his hand far away from his body like he was holding something poisonous. He twisted around a few times to see if he could use anything to warm her up. Didn’t Ford keep any space heaters down here? 

“C’mon, Poindexter, you gotta have something,” Stanley muttered. He glanced down at the tiny again. He was trying not to think about the fact that they even exist, because the moment he did, he would have to accept the fact that his entire worldview was now decidedly, permanently, altered from this. Somehow, with all he had been through, this was still the weirdest thing he’s ever seen.

And she was just – a person. But really, really small. There was no discernible difference, as far as Stan could tell. Boy, that really has to suck, he thought as he pushed aside junk on every table. How can anyone live like that?

Eventually, he found what he was looking for – sort of. It was a ragged cloth, covered in grease and, as a sniff test determined, various other fluids. But as long as it meant not having to hold some half-alive miniature human, he didn’t care. He unceremoniously dumped her into the cloth, once again relieved to see her still on this earth as she squirmed a bit at the new surface.

“Ugh. Finally,” Stan grumbled. He quickly set the cloth on the table and got up to continue tweaking the portal, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He stopped after a few steps.

He couldn’t just… ugh. He turned back around, flexing his hands. I can’t just leave ‘em here. Ew. Why was he thinking that? Because they’re smaller than a damn pencil and can’t survive here on their own. Okay, so what? And how did he even know that? He had no obligation to take care of anyone but himself. But they’ll die down here. Who cares? And it’d be all your fault. No, it wouldn’t. Just like Ford.

Stanley shut his eyes and rubbed them hard. Since when did he develop a conscience? That was inconvenient. But this pipsqueak had said something that Stan found he couldn’t get out of his mind – I was around when Ford worked on it. Even if she didn’t actually do anything, she knew Ford and had some semblance of understanding about the inner workings of this thing, which was more than Stan could say. Maybe she knew where the other journals were, too. Or maybe she’d be able to stop Stan from going insane.

Ugh.

He pulled up the rickety stool he was sitting on last night and flopped down, placing his elbows on the table and leaning his chin into his hands. He narrowed his eyes and concentrated on her tiny form, as if it would help her wake up. Though he didn’t do anything to jolt her awake, his concentration did pay off when he started to notice her breathing. It stunned his mind silent. He could actually see her tiny chest expanding, retracting, expanding, retracting with her breathing. Tiny strands of her hair were being pushed and pulled along with the movement. She was dirtier than she looked from afar. Can she even take a shower? Eugh. She had all sorts of scratches and bruises along her skin including a long gash over her left eye that would have looked kind of badass if it probably didn’t come from fighting a rat or something. 

It was hard to imagine Ford actually befriending something – someone like that, and regarding them as an equal. Stan wasn’t even sure he could think of them as equal. Ford had a condescending way about him; he’s been looking down on Stan since they were teenagers. Why should some four-inch-tall person get more respect than he did? It wasn’t fair. Stan was family. Family was the most important thing in the world. Right?

Stanley took one more long look at the tiny and sighed. Yeah, she probably wasn’t waking up anytime soon. Well, he was already sitting down… he might as well keep thumbing through this journal and see if he could make any sense of it.

*******

Why was everything so fuzzy?

It was like she was moving underwater. Even blinking seemed to go in slow motion. It didn’t help that she was wandering around some dark, dirty room. She couldn’t even feel her limbs moving. They just… did.

Who’s there?

That voice. It was unmistakable! She called out his name, straining her voice more each time.

Hello?

Why couldn’t he hear her? He always heard her. She screamed even louder. “IT’S ME!” she yelled. “RIGHT HERE!”

What in the world…

A form that didn’t even look like his loomed large over her. His glasses were opaque, his expression stoic. He seemed to have no regard for her as his foot slammed down next to her, causing her to fall. She tried to get up, but the sensation of him kneeling down was enough to keep her pressed into the ground. He extended his hand right at her, emotionless, unwavering, not stopping until he gets what he wants. He didn’t seem to hear her pleading, even as he snatched her up. The squeezing feeling was nearly suffocating–

Suddenly, she shot up. Her ears were ringing, and she was drenched in a cold sweat, but everything was moving at normal speeds again. She allowed herself a few heavy breaths before wiping her face with her hands. It had been ages since she’d last had a nightmare that bad. Not since…

“Sheesh, about time you woke up.”

Her blood ran ice cold as she slowly turned her head to meet the booming voice. Him. Ford’s brother. Stanley. The one who stuck her inside a jar last night and left her for dead. Maybe she was still dreaming. Or maybe this was the afterlife.

She began to inch back, planning on pressing herself to the back of the glass jar, but immediately sank downward. What the hell? She jerked her head down, discovering a grey cloth that was once probably white cushioning her. Before she could even think, stars filled her vision, and she clutched her head as her temples throbbed.

Stan raised an eyebrow at her reaction, letting out a small eugh at the way she wobbled back and forth. He guessed it had to be a bit disorienting to be stuck on a tabletop, barely even registering as a speck in this massive place.

He watched – in pity, he later realized, which made him shudder – as the tiny person whipped her head around, clearly disoriented and clearly freaked out by Stan’s proximity. When their eyes met, hers burned with a fear he wasn’t quite sure he’d ever seen before. He kept a straight face, but he knew he had to say something. This was starting to make him uncomfortable.

“Woah, woah, take it easy,” he grumbled, his voice softer than he expected it would be. “I’m not gonna do that again.” Her skeptical expression made him snicker. “I’m serious, short stuff. I was just… mad, last night. Lost my temper.”

Yeah, she thought, cold creeping up her spine. That’s the problem.

Stan couldn’t take looking her in the eye anymore, so he brought his focus back to the journal, pretending to scan through its pages. A few minutes passed, and the tiny didn’t move.

“You were freezing,” Stan started, not looking up from the book. “Inside that jar. So I found that cloth. Thought it might warm you up.”

Jay wanted to laugh, but nothing about that was funny. No wonder she felt so lethargic. She nearly froze to death. Somewhere inside her, she appreciated the gesture, but it didn’t take heightened senses to know this rag was gross. She would almost rather freeze than smell like… god, what even was that?

Stanley frowned. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised she didn’t want to talk to him, but it mildly freaked him out that she wouldn’t even look at him. She kept her eyes trained at the ground, trying not to make any sudden movements, like he would forget all about her if she stayed still long enough. Ugh. Why did he feel so bad about this? I guess it is my fault.

“Y’know, I never, uh, asked you what your name was.”

Jay blinked. No, he didn’t, and she sure as hell didn't want him to know it. It would just be another thing he could use against her if he had to. But what power did she have in this situation to stay silent? He could – no, would – just throw her back in the jar at the slightest inconvenience.

Stan shifted uncomfortably. “Look, tiny, I… I know I probably shouldn’t have put you in that jar.” Jay looked up, surprised. She wasn’t expecting an apology. Stan tried to hide his amusement at her tiny movements. “And I know you have no reason to trust me. But if we want to get Ford back, we need to work together, right? Not like you can fix the portal all by yourself.” Jay thought for a moment, brushing aside yet another size-related comment, then gave a tentative nod. She didn’t feel like facing his wrath by disagreeing. “So, whadda ya say? Truce?”

Truce was a strong word. She didn’t want to do this, but she had to. He was right about one thing – there was nothing she could do in this situation without Stan’s help. And she really, really just wanted to get Ford back as quickly as possible so she never had to see his twin again.

She flinched when a giant finger entered her view, stopping inches in front of her face – a reflex that did not go unnoticed by Stan. He was going for one of those handshakes that humans loved to do. Just like Ford had done when they first met.

Stan was grinning, but it had a smarmy edge to it that she didn’t like. He was amused by the size difference, and his smile only grew wider when Jay hesitantly reached her hands out and placed them on either side of his fingertip. He gently shook his finger, but the movement was enough to nearly pull Jay into the air from her seated position. She quickly regained her balance and shot Stan a nasty look. He just laughed.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” he said, wiping a fake tear from his eye. That was all Jay needed to get serious.

“Okay, listen, if we’re gonna be doing this, we need to lay down some ground rules.”

Stan’s eyes briefly lit up at the sound of her voice. “Oh? And what would those be?”

Jay rolled her eyes. “No touching me without asking. No, you know what, no touching me at all. I’m not your plaything. And if I say something, you actually have to listen. Don’t just brush me off. And…” she trailed off, unsure of how bold she wanted to be. 

“And? And what?” Stan was still smiling. Jay grimaced.

“And… you need to share food and water with me. It’s… what Ford did.”

The room grew quiet at the mention of Ford’s name, and even Stan could sense this wasn’t the moment for a joke. He didn’t put two seconds into thinking how she would eat or drink, but it’s not like she could just walk down the street and go to the grocery store. He didn’t feel like getting into the fact that he had no money for food or water or… anything.

Stan stole a glance at the tiny, who was clearly waiting for an acknowledgement. It didn't seem like she noticed him faltering. Stan leaned back, waving his hand dismissively. “Yeah, sure, whatever, easy enough. You should know that I’m not too good at following rules, though.”

Jay sighed. Just when she thought she had gotten through… no, it was fine. He had listened... in his own Stanley way.

“I’m serious though, kid, you gotta tell me your name. I doubt you want me calling you pipsqueak all the time.”

Jay crossed her arms. “You’ll do that anyway.”

Stan smiled. “Yeah, probably.”

Despite herself, Jay smirked. This giant definitely had Ford’s cockiness, but also his intangible charm. He was unapologetically himself. 

“My name’s Jay,” she said finally, taking a moment to meet Stan’s eyes. Her cheeks flushed red when he raised his eyebrows.

“Jay? Huh. Interesting. Is that short for somethin’?” Stan paused before bursting out into laughter. “Short for something – ha! I mean – you are, short for something – HA!”

“Okay, not funny,” she mumbled, her entire face now burning.

“No, it’s pretty funny.” Stan shook for a few more seconds. “Okay, okay, I’m done.”

“Do you actually want to know why that’s my name?”

Stan leaned down, intrigued. “Oh, there’s actually a reason? Thought it was just some weird tiny person thing.”

“Yes, there’s actually a reason,” Jay shot back, trying to hide her nerves. “All borrower names have significance.”

It took Stan a moment to remember what a borrower was, but he just nodded, prompting her to continue.

“I, um. I grew up in the forest,” she started tentatively, gauging his reaction. He just kept staring. Jay moved her gaze back to her lap. “So we relied a lot on nature. My, uh, family… they relied on birds, a lot. We helped them, they helped us, that kind of thing. So they named me Jay.” She paused, giving Stan room to say something. He didn’t. “Like the bird.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Stanley said, sounding a little breathless. He would never admit it, but that little detail had completely captivated him. She grew up in the forest? It really was like a fairy tale. Except she was no fairy, and this was no tale. After reading through the journal last night, it was clear that this town was full of wacky paranormal weirdness, because Ford didn’t have enough of an imagination to dream all of that nonsense up himself. 

But there was nothing in the journal about this tiny – Jay – that he could use as a reference. He was curious, sure, but he wasn't going to waste his time asking her details about her weird tiny life. He just wanted his brother back. She was a vehicle to make that happen. That was it. Nothing more.

Jay cleared her throat. “So if you could just call me that, instead of some degrading size-based nickname, that would be appreciated.”

“Hm? Oh, sure thing, short stuff.” Jay let out a long sigh, but Stan didn’t hear. He tapped the journal impatiently. “Can we get back to the important stuff now? Like, what does…” Stan squinted at the page, “...‘quantum entanglement’ mean? That sounds made up.”

Jay rubbed the brim of her nose. “It means–”

“Nope, don’t care,” Stan cut her off, flipping to the next page. “First lesson – don’t waste my time with a bunch of nerdy words that I won’t understand. I’m sure we can figure this out without you giving me a chemistry lesson.”

“It’s physics,” Jay mumbled, plopping down on the table. She allowed the journal to tower over her as she stared straight ahead, out into the vast room before her. She had spent a lot of nights down in this bunker, and it was hard not to feel a little wistful for the times when Ford would fall asleep with papers stuck to his face, or when Fiddleford was so hopped up on caffeine he would dance around the room and talk a million miles per hour, or the rare times when Ford would share personal anecdotes and forget all about the portal for a few hours. 

Now, in the blink of an eye, it was gone, replaced with a dark, musty room whose only occupants were a tired, run-down Jay and her best friend’s sarcastic, impatient twin brother whom she did not trust one bit. Ford was always telling her to trust no one. Maybe it’s high time she listened.

Stan silently flipped through the journal for another five minutes before letting out a loud groan and slamming his head down into the pages. Jay let out a small yelp, instinctively scooting back.

“This is stupid,” Stan said to no one in particular. “I’m getting a soda.”

Jay watched, helpless, as Stan disappeared down the hall, mumbling about Ford’s apparent stupidity. 

Eventually, Jay came to. She had shut her eyes tight for a while, hoping the pain would melt away on its own. Soon enough, it did, but even with her senses thrown off, the feeling of being loomed over was incredibly persistent. She didn’t want to see Stan, so gigantic and destructive, towering over her after he just tried to murder her. And she certainly didn’t want to hear his smarmy jokes about her begging for her life – the embarrassment of that was beginning to hit her hard. How could she even be in the same room as him ever again, knowing she had become the helpless, controllable little thing he so clearly saw her as?

Stan, trying to stay patient and silent, was only increasing Jay’s anxiety more. Why was he just… sitting still? She dared to take a peek and only saw Stan’s massive elbows pressing on the tabletop, his torso so big it looked more like an endless wall. She wasn’t prepared to hear him speak.

“Look, kid, I–”

But he stopped as soon as her eyes met his. The shock of her expression sucked all the air from his lungs. Her face was red and puffy, her eyes burning from tears. She was staring at him in horror, like he was some kind of – some kind of monster. Someone who acts so callously toward other people’s feelings and needs. A killer. Now’s not the time for this! But Stan’s mind wouldn’t let him rest. Not even as his hand twitched in his lap, unable to stay still. He jumped when she jumped; he had no idea how she was able to pick up on that movement. Disoriented and filled with anxiety, Jay slowly scrambled backwards until she found a stack of books to dive behind for cover. Stan just watched. There was nothing he could do.

Jay pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly. Not being able to see Stan’s movements was probably a bad thing, but she couldn’t bear to be in his line of sight right now. She hadn’t cowered like this since first meeting Ford, and it all felt so eerily similar. Stan was just like Ford in as many ways as they differed – even if they didn’t share a face, she would be able to suss out their relation to each other. They both had this air of unpredictability and superiority, and Jay was now twice caught in the crosshairs. She had to get her hook. She had to get out of here. She had to…

Stan felt sick, just as he did in this very basement a week ago. It had been so long since he actually interacted with people, and he found that a lot of his survival instincts he prided himself on were not transferable to the real world; or even to tiny little people in the real world. Why did he think he needed to use violence to assert himself over someone as tall as a golf pencil? Why did she react so scared this time? Probably because you almost killed her. But nobody ever took him seriously. Why did she have to be different?

Stan sucked in a breath. Quit it, Stan. You can’t be doing this. But if he kept sitting there and staring at the books, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Fine. Then go work on the portal. Go be useful for once in your life.

It took Jay a while to notice he had left. She was too busy trying to stop her hands from shaking, and it took everything in her not to black out again from how fast the blood was rushing through her body. The sound of her own hyperventilating snapped her back to reality. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t even have any thoughts going through her head. It was completely, totally silent. She wasn’t even sure she could remember what words to use. But she eventually noticed that the vibe in the room had shifted considerably. The silence had become eerie, and the suffocating feeling was largely gone, replaced by an anxious panic. She hoped her senses weren’t betraying her, but a quick, subtle peek around the books confirmed that Stan was no longer sitting at the table, waiting for her to come out. She couldn’t see through the window, but a lot of clanging and a lot of cursing confirmed Stan had gone to work in the portal room.

Jay took the opportunity to finally stand up. She needed to grip the spine of the books to pull herself up because her legs were completely drained of energy. In a moment of panic, she thought she was maybe paralyzed from the incident, but she was able to take a few shaky steps. She blinked as her brain oriented itself, her eyes stinging, her world still turning. She didn’t quite understand why Stan had left the room, but she didn’t care. The only thing her brain had the capacity for right now was escape.

She stumbled over to her hooks, which were still woefully incomplete. Fuck it, she thought, wiping the sweat off her hands, I’ll just slide down the table leg – link these together, she managed to hook one piece of bent metal around the other with her trembling hands, then use this, she picked up, dropped, and picked up again what she had tied together for rope, and I’ll just wrap it around myself, and I can – I can – I just need –

Jay tried her best to assemble something that could get her safely down from the metal table, but she was trembling so hard that she could barely keep the hooks from slipping from her grip. And the more time she took, the more she panicked, and the more mistakes she made. The risk from falling from such a great height couldn’t be any worse than seeing Stan again. She had to hurry, quick, before he—

The stinging sound of scraping metal made Jay freeze so fast she could feel her blood turn cold. She was too numb to turn around, but having her back to him was even more terrifying. She slowly turned around, gripping her hooks so tight she thought she’d crush them.

Stan gaped back, eyes wide. It felt like he glitched temporarily before getting his ability to speak back. “Oh. You’re still here.”

She shrunk back, whimpering a bit and putting her hands in front of her chest in a protective position, tightening her white-knuckle grip on the hooks. She didn’t dare move an inch.

To her surprise, Stan, very slowly, lifted his hands up placatingly. “Don’t worry,” was all he managed to say in a scratchy, hoarse voice that barely sounded like his.

Jay couldn’t budge even if she wanted to. She was frozen.

“Oh. I see. The, uh, metal things,” Stan said clumsily, nudging his head at her hooks. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. I’d want to get out of my sight if I were you, too.”

Jay knitted her eyebrows. This was not the tone of voice she expected from him.

“Look, I didn’t – I didn’t mean to – I’m – I’m sorry, Jay,” he stumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. Her heart skipped a beat when he actually said her name. “You probably won’t forgive me, and that’s alright, I don’t deserve it. It’s just – my life hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park. I don’t always… handle things the best,” he said, sounding profoundly embarrassed at admitting such a thing. “Never have, and I guess I never will. I’m just the Pines family screw-up.”

Jay arched an eyebrow. Her mind was telling her this was all an act – a pity party to draw her back in so he could do something awful. But her gut kept asking one thing: Why would he need to do that?

After a few tense moments, Jay lowered her hands and loosened her hold on the hooks. Stan, taking this as a sign of trust, slowly sat down, pushing the stool back a bit to put some distance between them. Now Jay felt comfortable enough to inch backwards until her back hit the stack of books. She didn’t even blink, in case Stan did something again.

“I know Poin–uh, Ford didn’t tell you anything about me,” he began, wringing his hands together, “but I, uh, don’t exactly have the most admirable past.” He took a deep breath. Why was this so hard? “I’ve had to do a lot of lying, a lot of stealing, just to scrape by. I lived out of my car for a while. Hah, I don’t even know how Ford tracked down the motel room I was staying in to send me that postcard.” He stole a glance at Jay, who wore the same skeptical look on her face. “What I’m trying to say is, it’s been a while since I’ve had… company. Or been around people who weren’t convicted felons. And when I came here, I wasn’t expecting to see anyone else but Ford. And I sure as hell wasn’t expecting anyone three inches tall. So I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is, I just… need to remember how to act normal again.”

Jay was floored. The depth of sorrow in his voice was something she didn’t think a human was capable of. And as freaked out as she was, she could clearly see this was an attempt to reach out to her, to offer an olive branch without having to keep apologizing and reminding himself of the terrible thing he’d just done. He acted impulsively, and he knew it. Even after what he just did, he was making the effort to at least try and patch it up.

Ford did the exact same thing.

“I, uhm, I can relate. Kind of.” 

Stan’s eyes lit up for the briefest of moments at the sound of her voice. He didn’t think that would actually work. 

“Uhm..” Jay had to pause. This all felt so foreign to say. She had never related to a human about anything. “About the stealing part. And the not being used to company part.” Stan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Jay sighed. Was she really about to do this?

“I’ve told you a bit about… borrower stuff,” she said, keeping it vague in the hopes that he forgot most of it. “A huge part of the lifestyle – probably the biggest part, really – is the… stealing from humans part.” She gave Stan a chance to insert a witty remark, but he stayed silent. “We basically take anything and everything we can get while they’re not looking. Food, supplies… whatever we can get our hands on. And it gets pretty lonely, because most of us – we travel in small groups, or pairs. It’s not safe to be in a big group. I’ve…” She debated if she wanted to say this, but judging from the small tidbits Stan had revealed, she guessed it wouldn’t be so embarrassing to him. “I’ve been on my own for a while. It’s – well, it’s hard to remember times with other borrowers. I could go weeks without speaking, and it – it would have been normal. This… this is all pretty new to me, too.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s new to me. I know how to handle myself,” Stan interjected, immediately regretting his defensive tone when he saw her exasperated expression. “I mean… that sounds like it was really tough on you.”

Jay huffed a laugh. “Yeah. It was.”

There was an awkward silence as both of them tried to figure out what to say next. Stan was remorseful, and a little freaked out, but he just wanted to feel okay with himself as quickly as possible. He could barely handle the nervous side-eye she was giving him right now, and he wasn’t even doing anything.

“Look, uh, you don’t have t’be scared of me, okay? I did somethin’ stupid, I know I did. I shouldn't have tried to – it was just a reaction. I’m used to havin’ to punch my way outta situations. Sometimes I forget how… tiny you are.” Jay felt her stomach sink at the direct call-out to her size, and she shrank even more as Stan peered at her. “Like, I could breathe on you and hurt you.”

Jay crossed her arms. “Yeah, okay, I get it. Weak and helpless.”

“Well, you’re a pipsqueak, that’s for sure,” Stan said callously before shaking his head. “But no, you – that’s not it, I just – I know this is weird for you, but come on, you gotta admit it’s even weirder for me. Up until a week ago, I didn’t even know something like you even existed. Now I’m talkin’ to a person who can fit in my hand, and you… you’ve been hangin’ around Ford for months. I’m just a… different version of him.” A stupider, worse version of him.

Jay thought about it for a moment. She hated to admit it, but he did have a point. Stan wasn’t the first giant she’s ever dealt with, but she was his first tiny. And he just lost his brother after not seeing him for a long, long time. That was a lot to deal with. She didn’t really know what Stan had been through, but judging from the way he spoke about it… it didn’t seem normal by human standards.

“...I know,” Jay said quietly, sheepishly, but Stan still heard. “And I’m… sorry, for riling you up. I said those things to make myself feel better, because – you may think I have this superiority complex thing, but I mean, how else am I supposed to compete? You… Ford, Fidds, you guys are gigantic. You can do things I can only dream of doing. Hell, you do things I can only dream of without even thinking about it. It’s… hard not to feel worthless in comparison. It’s hard to feel like I even matter.”

Jay immediately flushed red. Why on earth did she just say that? Why was she confiding in Stan? She was saying things she had never even told Ford. This is so embarrassing. He doesn’t care! He doesn’t have sympathy for you! 

But to Jay’s surprise, Stan didn’t laugh at her or make another joke about her size. Instead, he sighed. “Trust me. I know how that feels.” Jay’s look of pure surprise and skepticism told Stan he needed to elaborate. “You only knew my brother for a couplea months, but I spent my entire life with the guy. I grew up in Ford’s shadow. He was the smarty pants know-it-all twin, and I was the trouble-making, dumb twin. My folks cared more about Ford’s homework than whatever I was doing.” Stan stopped himself. The last thing he wanted to do right now was relive this. Why was he even saying this to her? “Hah. Looks like we’re more alike than we thought, pipsqueak.”

Jay crossed her arms. “Woah, let’s not get crazy now,” she said, slightly defensive. But her small smile betrayed her. Stan smiled in return.

“Hah, right.”

Stan rubbed the back of his neck, and after a few seconds of silence, he stood up, ready to leave and be done with this. He said his apology – he said more than he wanted to, in fact – and that was more than enough. The exhaustion was clearly getting to him. He’d slept maybe a total of 10 hours over the past five days. Yeah, that was it. He was just tired, not thinking straight. He needed a good night’s sleep. Maybe a day’s break from code-cracking and journal reading and tiny little people who could sit in his palm would do him some good.

He made his way toward the exit, but stopped at the threshold. Something was nagging at him, and he needed a clear head.

“You, uh… you gonna be alright, kid?”

Jay’s eyes lingered on Stan. Her heartbeat still felt elevated, her breath hitching every time his fingers twitched as he wrung his hands together. The thought of being picked up by him again made her head start rocking. It took everything she had to look up at him, and even then, she could only hold her gaze for a few seconds before the bile started to rise to her throat. She had to take a few concentrated breaths once she realized her breathing was still shaky.

“Yeah,” she said finally. She wasn’t sure how much she meant it.

“Okay,” Stan replied. He wasn’t sure how much he believed her.

Stan stood for a few moments, sorting through his feelings. Nothing about this felt real. It was all happening so fast. But he would go to sleep tonight and wake up in the morning and she’d still be here while Ford was gone. Just like it had been for the last week. Just like it was probably going to be for the foreseeable future. It was stupid, and unfair. But Stan was used to unfair.

He found himself staring, still unable to process how he could barely make out her form among the clutter of the table. If he didn’t know she was there, he wouldn’t have noticed her. He hated how much that freaked him out.

Ugh.

“I, uh, I guess I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

Jay stared straight ahead, then down to the table. Her hooks sat on either side of her. She had tied up enough rope. She had thought everything out. She knew the way out.

But then she looked back up. Stan leaned on the doorframe, hands in his pockets, his expression cautious, his eyes hopeful. He regarded her with curiosity, not disdain. He was waiting for an answer. She let out a long, deep sigh.

Now Jay was really confused, and she didn’t have to say anything for Stan to know. His face contorted into a look nothing short of horror.

“You lived with my brother – a Pines – for years and never even knew he was Jewish!” Stan cried, putting his hand over his forehead and dramatically slinking down. “Oh, the humanity!” 

Jay rolled her eyes. “I think you’re overreacting.”

“Absolutely not, kid. This is important stuff.”

“So, are you going to tell me what… han-ah-kah is? Or are you just going to faint about it?”

“You’re not saying it right,” Stan grumbled as he pulled himself back up. “Alright, alright. I’m just… surprised Poindexter never did anything for it, that’s all.”

“Is it… like Christmas?” Jay asked carefully. She didn’t want to actually offend Stan. This was clearly very important to him. 

“Kinda, yeah,” Stan said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Except better.”

“Better?”

“Better. Christmas, it’s only one day, right? Hanukkah is eight.”

Jay was intrigued. She had never heard of a human holiday that lasted more than a day.

“Yeah, I see you’re impressed. There’s presents, food, games… it’s basically a big weeklong party! And you get to light a new candle on the menorah every day until the last, that’s always my favorite part. Guess Ford never set one up, huh?”

Jay shook her head, but something else came to mind. “Fidds… he brought a tree inside one year. Is that normal?”

“Yeah, for those weird Christmas people, it is.”

“I got so mad at him.” Jay shook her head with a faint smile. “Like, who brings a tree inside like that? What if a clan used it as their home?”

“Don’t worry, kid, we won’t be having any trees inside this house as long as I’m in charge. But we should go out and get a menorah. I really would have thought Poindexter would have one here…”

Jay wracked her brain in case she was somehow forgetting about this holiday, but nothing came to mind; especially not this menorah he was talking about. “So… the... menorah, is like a candle holder.”

Stan shrugged. “A little simplistic, but sure.”

“And the latkes…”

“Potato pancakes,” Stan explained. “Basically, you shred some potatoes, add some onion, egg and flour, and fry the whole sucker up. Ma’s secret is to put a little bit of cheese and zucchini in it.” Stan’s gaze seemed to turn distant. “Heh, she knocked ‘em dead every year. Mrs. Levin never knew what hit her, that miserable old hag. Ma’s latkes are the best in all of New Jersey.”

Jay’s heart ached as Stan spoke. His entire demeanor changed any time he talked about his family or his childhood. It was like he was an entirely different person.

“You… never talk about your family much,” Jay started, preparing for blowback, but it never came. Instead, Stan shot her a look of… almost hurt. “Besides Ford, I mean. Your mom’s recipe… it sounds nice.”

Stan seemed to soften at that. “Heh, yeah, it is, kid. We can make it later.”

“We?”

“Yeah, we. Hanukkah, it’s… it’s about celebrating community, and – togetherness. And right now, we’re all we’ve got. So let’s go get us a menorah, and then you’re gonna eat so much potato your tiny little stomach will explode all over the place.”

Jay sniffed a laugh. “That’s gross.”

“Yeah, like you’d ever turn down food,” Stan smirked. Jay rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Now, come on, pipsqueak, we’ve got work to do.”

It was weird climbing into a mittened hand, but Jay understood it. She needed to bundle up even more than her human counterparts, but she had nothing from her old home. It was summertime when Ford found her, and by the time winter rolled around, it was firmly established that she was never going to leave the comfort of a heated house. She absentmindedly wondered if her stuff was still in her hiding spot as she ambled into Stan’s pocket, now lined with extra fur to keep her warm.

And warm she stayed, even as the snow pounded down on Stanley’s car like little meteors. He knew she hated being inside a moving vehicle, and he wouldn’t admit that was half the reason he parked it on the side of some random road and did the rest of the journey on foot. It wasn’t that long of a walk into town, but finding a place that sold Hanukkah things would prove difficult.

Stan kept glancing down. He knew Jay wasn’t going to pop out, especially in public, but it always worried him when she stopped moving in there. That anxiety compounded with his growing worry that he wasn’t going to find what he was looking for. Every storefront had colorful lights, wreaths, trees, and Christmas decorations plastered on the windows – but not a single sparkle of silver and blue.

Until he reached the edge of town.

“Jackpot!” Stanley cried. He had been wandering around so long that his face was numb, and even Jay was starting to get concerned. 

The store was tiny; it was tucked at the end of a road that didn’t even have a streetlight. But glowing bright as day in the center of the store’s only window was a Star of David. Oh, sweet Sally, Stan thought, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes!

The closer Stan got to the store, though, the more skeptical he became. Maybe the window was tinted, but it looked pretty dark inside, and there were no prints in the freshly fallen snow around the store; not even from a squirrel. This town already wasn’t the most welcoming place, and now, standing alone in front of this mysterious store, Stan felt like he was on an island of his own. The blinking window sign underneath the dim streetlight reminded him too much of–

No, Stan thought, forcefully shaking his head. It’s not like that. Not anymore. Not here.

Reluctantly, Stan pushed the door open, half expecting it to be locked. But a wave of warmth washed over him, nearly shocking him out of his negative thoughts. The lights were a soft, golden yellow, illuminating the aisles with an almost homey glow, like a thousand candles lit up at once. The store seemed to be more like a bodega than anything else, with shelves stocked to the brim with food, groceries and everything in between. Stan slowly shook the snow off his hood as he whisked it off his head. He could tell he was the only one here.

Jay couldn’t take it anymore. Stan’s slowed pace was not the reaction of someone who excitedly found what he was looking for. So using all her strength, she sat up, grabbed the lip of the pocket and hoisted herself up so only her head was peeking out. 

She was expecting to feel the cold, but she was instead greeted by the sweet feeling of a heated room. “Stan?” she called, but he was too distracted to hear her. Jay frowned. “Stan!” Nothing. She sucked in a deep breath. “STANLEY PINES!”

That seemed to work. Stan blinked and peered down, surprised. “What? What’s the matter, tiny?” 

“What’s the matter? Aren’t you gonna tell me what’s going on? Where are we?”

Stan rubbed the back of his neck. He was too embarrassed to admit that he forgot she was there. “Oh. Right.” He peeked around a bit more, taking a few cautious steps forward. He had to make sure he wasn’t about to get kicked out. “I thought this place was golden, just what I was lookin’ for – but I’m not so sure now.”

“What? Why not?”

“Well… I dunno.” He began to wander down an aisle. “It kind of feels like home.”

Jay furrowed her brow. “Isn’t that… a good thing?”

Stan absentmindedly picked up a microwavable cup of noodles and sighed. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you, kid.”

Jay didn’t even have time to ponder what that meant. The heavy sound of footsteps was unmistakable. She dove back into the pocket just as the echo of boots stopped reverberating.

“Can I help you, son?”

Stan flinched, almost throwing the noodles back onto the shelf. “I was gonna pay for that!”

The man raised an eyebrow, but nothing more. He was tall and stately, wearing a bright red pullover with a white collared shirt and a tie underneath. His glasses were far too big for his face, and it only seemed to amplify his curious eyes. A small brown mustache sat snugly on his top lip.

“Rough weather outside, huh?”

“Yeah…” Stan took a small step back. 

“Huh, it’s really comin’ down,” the man remarked, brushing past Stan to peer out the window. “Was just about to close up, in fact. You’re the only customer I’ve had in two hours.”

Stan’s face flushed red. Now he felt stupid. “Oh. Sorry for wastin’ your time, sir.”

The man waved his hand dismissively. “Come now.”

“Seriously, I should be going –”  

“Nonsense. What are you looking for? An easy-to-make dinner before Christmas?”

“No, really, it’s okay, I–” Stan stopped, wondering if he should even bother explaining. Maybe he just had the star in his window because he thought it looked nice. But it smells too much like home to be a coincidence. Stan stole a glance at the man, who was eyeing him expectantly. “Well, I, uh, I celebrate Hanukkah, actually.”

To Stan’s surprise, the man just smiled. “I thought as much.”

“What – how did you–”

“Sometimes… you just know,” the man said with a smile too sweet to be phony. “You’ll understand one day when you’re my age.”

Stan chuckled. He couldn’t imagine himself being that old.

“I think I have just what you’re looking for,” the man said, beckoning Stan to follow him. He did, silently, shooting glances at the shelves as if something would jump out from them. He looked down when he felt a small movement in his pocket. He gave Jay a shrug before she slipped back in.

“Now, it’s a little small,” the man started, climbing up a small ladder. “And a little old, too. But I think it should do you just fine.”

Jay was too curious for her own good. She poked her head out, gawking up at the man.

“What is he doing?” she whisper-shouted, causing Stan to jump.

“I dunno! Get back in there!” he snapped, pushing her down with his fingertip. She made a muffled noise of protest, but didn’t fight back.

“Will this do?”

Stan nearly burst into tears at the sight in front of him. It was a little small, but it was also a rich, milky gold, like it had just come out of the box. On top of the center pillar was a Star of David, and the features were ornate, but timeless.

Stan took it in his hands, turning it over carefully like it was made of glass.

“It’s perfect,” he breathed.

The man smiled as he hopped down. “Good. And don’t forget this.” He motioned for Stan to open his hand, and he dropped a dreidel into his gloved palm. “Now, you better hurry on home. Wouldn’t want you getting stuck in the snow.”

Stan blinked in shock. “Are – are you sure? I have money, I swear–” He fished around his pockets. Not much came out.

“No, no, please,” the man insisted. “This wasn’t for sale, anyway. It was actually my mother’s.”

“Your mother’s – I can’t have this, then! My ma would never–”

“But mine would,” he cut him off, putting on a serious face that made Stan pause. “Besides, she owns at least 10. She won’t miss this one.”

Despite himself, Stan laughed. “Ten? Must have one big family.”

The man shook his head. “Oh, no. Just me and my brother. She just really likes her menorahs.”

“Huh.” For once, Stan was speechless.

The man began ushering Stan forward. “Go on now. It’s getting late.”

“Okay, okay,” Stan said, hurrying to the front of the store. “I, uh… thank you, sir.”

“Think nothing of it.” He smiled that sunshine smile again. “Chag sameach, and be well, son.”

Stan could only give a solemn nod on his way out; the Hebrew he learned as a child suddenly found its way to the front of his mind, but all the words were caught in his throat. He didn’t say a single word on his journey back, and Jay didn’t know what to say. Something told her silence was for the better right now.

When they finally got home, Stan felt lighter. The first thing he did after putting his new possessions down was dig into his pocket and fish Jay out. He chuckled at her half-sleeping face of confusion at the abrupt change in altitude and scenery. He forgot how weary she got in the cold.

“You follow any of that, kid?” he asked, placing her gently on the counter.

“Not a single word,” she said with a smile.

“Hah. Well, you and me both. He just… gave me these,” he said, gesturing to the two items. “And I don’t know why.”

Jay got up and padded over to the menorah, taking it all in from her vantage point. It looked fun to climb. But she was even more intrigued by the dreidel, because, shockingly, it wasn’t taller than her. She could actually pick it up and hold it – albeit, not for long.

“Hm. Maybe he was just being nice.”

“Psh.” Stan rolled his eyes. “Doubt it. Nobody’s ever that nice without a catch. Maybe there’s a camera in here or somethin’?” Stan swiped up the menorah and began inspecting it for tiny hidden gadgets.

“Stanley,” Jay chided, groaning at how ridiculous he looked. “Not everyone’s out to get you, you know.”

“That’s rich, comin’ from you,” Stan snapped, sounding angrier than he actually was. “And the governments of at least three South American countries are definitely out to get me.”

Jay blinked a few times, caught off guard by his remark. He was right – that was funny, coming from her, the person who swore up and down that strange humans are not to be trusted. It was just so peculiar to her that Stan was just as untrusting. Humans weren’t supposed to be like that. 

Stan still felt on the defensive as he took off his coat. What did she know? She wasn’t even a human. Stan knew humans better than anyone. Nobody was that nice. 

Right?

“What’s this?”

Jay’s innocent question brought him back to reality. She was holding up the dreidel, clearly struggling to keep it upright. Stan smiled at the sight. “That’s a dreidel, used to play a traditional Hanukkah game. Very distinguished. A classic, really.”

“What’s the game?”

Stan grinned. “Gambling!”

It didn’t take long to teach her the rules, even throwing in a quick Hebrew lesson, but they quickly learned they didn’t have anything of value to wager. It didn’t matter, though. The real entertainment came from watching her grab the little handle with both her hands and put her entire body into spinning the top. It took her a while to get the hang of it; she threw herself to the ground on the very first attempt, causing Stan to burst into laughter and Jay to rub her head in shame.

“You didn’t tell me it was going to be hard,” she blushed, trying not to sound as embarrassed as she felt.

“You – HAH! You should have seen yourself!” Stan leaned back in his chair, wiping a genuine tear from his eye after a few more laughs. “You spun more than the dreidel! HAH!”

“Not. Funny,” she grumbled, but her inability to hide her smile betrayed her.

“You’re right. It was hilarious.”

“I don’t think I like this game very much.”

“Huh. Funny. I like it more than I remember!”

“Why don’t you show me how it’s done, then,” Jay said, crossing her arms.

“Fine! I will!” Very carefully, Stan pinched the handle between his fingers and held the dreidel upright. He took a moment, marveling at how a tiny wooden top could be as tall as a living being, before snapping his fingers with all his might. Jay yelped and jumped back, surprised at the force with which the dreidel spun. She watched, mesmerized, as it went round and round and round for at least 15 seconds before it started to slow. It clattered to a stop, with a symbol that looked like a backwards C on the top.

“Aw, man! That’s nun. If we were playin’ for real, that would mean I do nothing and it’s your turn next.”

Determined not to make a fool of herself again, Jay insisted on lifting the top herself instead of having Stan put it upright for her. It took her a few tries, but she successfully got underneath and stood it back up. A few deep breaths later, and the top was spinning away.

“Woah!” Stan wasn’t expecting her to actually do it! It didn’t last long, but it definitely spun like a top, and it landed on hay. “That’s hay. You’d get half the damn pot if this was real!”

Jay beamed. “I like this game now.”

“Oh, what have I done?” Stan laughed at her tiny, smug expression. “I’m gonna turn you into a good-for-nothing gambling addict like me.”

They spun the dreidel for at least an hour, until Jay’s limbs were so tired she could barely stand. Stan remembered about the peanuts he bought at the store earlier, and that was good enough to use as a wager. When all was said and done, Jay had 13 peanuts to Stan’s seven.

“Does this mean I win?” she asked all too innocently, staring up at Stan with doe eyes.

“Don’t play dumb, kid,” Stan mumbled lightheartedly. “You know you kicked my ass.”

“Yeah I did!” She looked at the peanuts like they were made of gold. “I beat the human at his own game.”

“Watch it now. I’ll stick you on top of the fridge and forget to take you down.”

“You can’t stop me!” Jay yelled, but her teasing may have gone too far. Stan raised an eyebrow, as if to say oh, really? And before Jay could realize her mistake, she was already dangling in the air.

“Consider yourself stopped,” Stan said with a grin.

“Put me down!” she cried, thrashing her legs around.

“Hmm, let me think – nope!” He moved his hand to his shoulder and dropped her down. He had done this enough times by now to know how to be careful. “Besides, it’s latke time, and you need to watch.”

“I don’t – need to do anything,” she said, grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt as he lurched forward.

“This one’s important,” Stan said, ignoring an opportunity to be sassy. “I haven’t made Ma’s latkes in…” He trailed off. He couldn’t remember.

Jay suddenly remembered what he had said before. There’s a lot I haven’t told you. She wasn’t very good with comforting words, but she found those weren’t the best for Stan, anyway. He seemed to respond most to a gentle nudge.

“Show me how it’s done, Stanley Pines.”

Stan turned his head to his shoulder and smiled. “Alright, kiddo. Watch and learn.”

And watch and learn she did. Even if she had something to say, she would have been rendered speechless by the delicate touch Stan used to cook. Every movement had purpose; every shred of potato, every cube of butter, every shake of salt. He used a knife in ways Jay didn’t realize could be done by humans. Stan explained every step, every flick of the wrist, and he even offered to try and let Jay do something, but she refused, not warning to get in the way of his mastery. The instant those lumps of potatoes hit the pan, sizzling with a sharpness rarely heard, Jay was overwhelmed with a scent that was so otherworldly she almost began to question everything about her existence. She didn’t even know smells like this were possible. Had her whole life been this drab before? 

“Like I said, Ma made these every year,” Stan said, poking the latke with a spatula. “She was a mean cook, my Ma. Always made sure to save her best for the important occasions. Like when she could show off in front of the other moms. She’d make ‘em cry if she had to.”

“She sounds… fun.”

“Fun is definitely the best way to describe her. Maybe fierce, too.” Stan let the latke settle for a few more seconds before forcing the spatula underneath it and flipping. “There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her boys.” Stan stared into the pan as if in a trance. The loud pop of food snapped him back to reality. “What about you, huh? Tiny people must have close families, right?”

“Sure, but… nothing like that.” Now it was Jay’s turn to be wistful. “I didn’t know my mom very well. Not really. Well, it’s more like I don’t really remember her.” She paused, giving Stan room to say something. He didn’t. “I’m… not sure how it is for other borrowers. Not all of them are from the forest. But we kind of… travel in packs, I guess. Clans. So I was with my family, but also ten other families. But I was – they all spent a lot of time trying to reign me in. I was kind of the problem child.”

Now Stan wanted to say something “You? A troublemaker?” 

“Oh, yeah. I was… too curious for my own good.” The spaces between her words told Stan this wasn’t something to pry about. “‘S how your brother caught me in the first place. I was snooping around much too close. Closer than most borrowers even think of getting to a human. My parents kind of kept their distance from me. I gave them a bad reputation.”

A sharp pain surged through Stan’s chest. “We’ve got that in common, then,” he snorted, flipping the latke back over. “My old man wanted nothin’ to do with me. No matter what I did, it seemed like I couldn’t please him. Nothing I ever did was good enough. Now, Ford? In the eyes of my father, he could do no wrong. Poindexter was the only one worth anything to him.” Stan let the latke simmer as he reached to make another. “But hey, it only made me stronger, right? I don’t need anyone. Except you, to tell me how great these latkes are. Go ahead, try one.”

Stan had siphoned off a tiny piece and slid it to the side, placing her down right in front of it. Jay hopped off his hand, still a little freaked out at how casual she had gotten around Stan. But he had just cooked for her – really cooked. Not the microwave pasta Ford was accustomed to scarfing down only when Jay reminded him he hadn’t eaten all day. Jay was ready to make fun of Stan for being bad at this, but it was clear she wouldn’t be able to do that. 

Carefully, she grabbed a strip of shredded potato and held it like a hoagie in her hands. She gave it a careful sniff first, then a tiny, tiny lick.

Stan couldn’t take it anymore. “Come on, kid! Just take a bite!”

“Okay, okay!” Jay took a deep breath, gave it one more good look, then closed her eyes and chomped down.

She was going to remember that bite for the rest of her life.

“I’ve… never had anything like this,” she said carefully, as if the food would evaporate from her fingertips. She bit off another piece, this time more like a wild animal. “I didn't… I didn’t even know food had flavors like this.”

“Hah, right, ‘cause you’ve been living off a diet of roots and sticks,” Stan said with a laugh, shoving his own forkful of latke into his mouth. His smile faded when she looked at him like she didn’t get the joke. He shuddered. “How do you even have functioning taste buds?”

“I might not,” she said, totally serious. “This is just… wow, Stanley. This is incredible.”

Stan ducked his head to hide his blush. “It’s nothin’.”

“You ate like this all the time growing up?”

“This? Not all the time. But Ma’s cooking… yeah. We ate this every day.”

Stan watched her eat like it was her first time trying food. Hell, it might as well have been. All the things Stan took for granted growing up and sorely missed now, he didn’t realize just how special it was until Jay got to experience it all for the first time. Ever since getting kicked out, he had no time to think about the luxuries of dreidel and holidays and homemade latkes. But he was slowly beginning to realize these were things he didn’t just cherish; he needed to cling to them desperately, as if any given day was his last one on Earth. There were creatures – people – out there who never even got to miss the taste of garlic and onions and butter. 

And Jay showed him that every single day.

The two ate in silence, finishing up the potato pancakes in surprisingly quick fashion. Stan wordlessly refilled her water thimble and kept supplying her with more when he noticed she was running low. The only sound louder than their chewing was the snowfall outside. It was peaceful.

“Wow.” Stan decided to break the silence. “That was a hell of a meal.”

“So this is what it’s like to feel full,” Jay quipped, only half-joking.

“I used to wonder why my old man always fell asleep after dinner. Now I know why.”

“Yeah… I’m beat,” Jay yawned, stretching her arms up high in the air. Stan felt his heart flutter like he was looking at a sleeping puppy. “I… I can’t thank you enough for that, Stan. Really. It… means a lot, that you wanted to make that for me.”

Stan waved his hand dismissively. “It’s nothin’, really. Now I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to sit in front of the TV for the rest of the night and do nothing. Whadda ya say?”

“Sure, I could go for that.” Again, like second nature, Jay hopped onto Stan’s palm when he offered it to her. She wasn’t even thinking twice about it anymore. 

It turns out there wasn’t much TV to watch – the storm was so strong, the only thing they’d be watching was black and white static dance around on the screen. But it didn’t matter, because the moment Stan sank into the chair, he was out like a light.

Perfect.

He awoke a few hours later, a little delirious and a lot tired. He glanced at the clock – it was half past 10. He grumbled as he rubbed his eyes, ready to head to the bedroom, when a small movement on the floor caught his eye.

“What the…?” He blinked the sleep from his eyes, squinting hard at the floor. He expected to see a small animal, but instead it was… Jay?

It had been a while since Jay was on the floor like this, staring up at a human so far away they felt unattainable. She wasn’t scared of Stan, not really, but her instinct couldn’t be suppressed when his knee slammed down on the ground beside her, and he loomed like a mountain. A very confused mountain.

“Kid, what are you doing on the floor?” Stan draped his arm over his knee as he bent down, heart aching at her unwittingly flinching at the movement. She was tiny. “Actually, how did you even get on the floor?”

“I – I climbed down,” she stammered with a shrug. “Not important. Um…” She was suddenly overcome with embarrassment. Should she even be doing this? Would he even appreciate it? He’s probably going to think it’s so stupid! 

“Spit it out, tiny,” Stan prompted. It was only then he noticed the square piece of paper she had behind her. “What is that?”

“It’s – um – you said Hanukkah was all about giving, right?”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “Yeah…” Where was she going with this?

“Well, um, I – I couldn’t stop thinking about how… how much kindness you’ve shown me. Since day one, really, after you took me out of that jar. You could have – you were well within your rights to throw me outside and tell me to scram. But you… allowed me to be warm, and fed. And I–”

“Just get to the point, kid!” At this point, Stan’s face was redder than a beet. He wasn’t used to this feeling.

“I… got you something,” she said finally, like the words had been forced out of her. “It’s not much, really, and I – I didn’t make it or anything, but it’s–”

“Gimme that,” Stan said, reaching for the paper behind her. She gawked at his arm towering so far above her and shuffled to the side as his fingers pinched the paper. 

Stan instantly began to cry.

“It’s this... photo, of Ford, see? And I’m in there too, but you can’t really tell,” Jay began, wringing her hands together and actively avoiding eye contact. “He was trying to take a… picture? Of us? He said he wanted it for his collection – which I thought was a science thing, but it turns out, it was a personal thing. He gave it to me as a gift, just something for me to have, I guess, and… I thought you’d want to see it. Keep it. I dunno, it’s stupid, I’m sorry–”

“Don’t,” Stan choked out, surprised to hear his own voice crack. “It’s –” he couldn’t even get the words out. He didn’t know when this was taken, and he suspected she didn’t quite know either, but Ford was beaming, happier than Stan remembered he could get, wearing a brown sweater vest over a bright blue shirt. On the table, barely a speck in the polaroid, was Jay, looking confused. Stan laughed a wet, sobbing laugh. It was stupid. It was perfect.

“I’m glad you like it,” Jay ventured to say, taking a step closer. “Just something to remind you of… what we’re working for, here, I guess. Together.”

“Together,” Stan repeated. He sniffed a few times, scrubbing the tears from his cheeks. “Where did you even – you went all the way downstairs to get this?”

“Oh, no, it was just… I used to sleep in Ford’s room, too,” she explained timidly. She knew she was going to have to reveal this eventually. “A lot of my stuff is still in there, actually. I just got it from there.”

That seemed to get his attention. He narrowed his eyes at her, suddenly uncomfortable with the way he towered over her tiny frame. “This whole time? You’ve had all your stuff there this whole time and never told me about it?”

“I didn’t–!” She took a breath. “I didn’t… know if I could trust you.” Then she took a bold step forward. “But I know now.”

Stan didn’t know what to say, but she didn’t need him to say anything. He was surprised at how well he was able to read her movements and facial expressions from all the way down there. He was going to have a hard time admitting the person he felt closest and most connected to in over 10 years was so small that a kernel of popcorn was a three-course meal. But she had made it beyond clear that trusting a human was the hardest thing anyone could do, and Stan tended to agree. People were mean and nasty. Unforgiving. Unrelenting. Never satisfied, no matter how hard he worked. But Jay was different. The smallest actions were enough to her. She just needed to be warm. To eat, to drink, to feel safe. It had taken this long for both of them to realize that safety was confined to these four walls and the people inside them.

For the final time that night, Stan gently lowered his hand to the floor, and she climbed right on. Wordlessly, he went back to the kitchen to get the menorah, taking it into Ford’s room – his room – their room – and softly closing the door. He flicked his lighter on and reveled in the soft crackle of the flame burning the wick. He sat down on the bed, watching the fire dance lightly atop the candle, its faint glow barely illuminating the room. But it was enough.

The two fell asleep that night, watching the candle together, sitting in silence. In one hand, Jay was curled up, so snug she didn’t even care it was a human’s plan. In the other, the photo of Ford, his smile rivaling the afternoon sun, happy to be in someone’s company.

The day after the incident was, admittedly, rough. And awkward. Neither of them wanted to say a word to the other, but Stan was clearly surprised to see her still on the table come morning. Besides a very long stretch of eye contact, he barely acknowledged her, but was clearly nervous to make any sudden movements and produce any loud noises. Jay didn’t really know what to do, and she was effectively marooned on the table, so she curled up around the stack of books and continued to sit in turmoil about, well… everything. 

“You, uh, want to keep staying here for the night? On the table, I mean.”

Jay snapped back to attention. It felt like Stan had just gotten down here. He had been working for 10 nonstop hours. 

“Um.” She wasn’t expecting to speak today. Her lip trembled as she gazed up at him. “It’s fine.”

“Okay then,” Stan replied, voice as neutral as she’s ever heard it. He stared at her for a good, long while, trying to figure out what he’d do if he came back down here tomorrow and she was gone. She was looking back at him as if he was about to strike. “It’s just – you, uh, you’ve been sitting on that table for like, a week now.” Huh. Has it really been that long? “Just thought you might – I dunno, get bored or something. And it’s freezing down here.” 

“It’s fine,” she repeated after a moment, mostly because her brain was too fried to come up with more words. But she didn’t like what he was implying, anyway. If she was going to get off the table, it would be on her terms.

Stan felt a slight frustration bubble up inside him, and judging by the way she reacted, it was written all over his face. He gave a quick sigh and opened his mouth to speak, but found he didn’t really have anything to say, so he left in an uncomfortable silence.

Over the next few days, though, it got better. Conversations were few and far between, but Jay mostly watched him work. It was actually kind of mesmerizing, the way he moved around so effortlessly and had a kind of raw strength not even Ford possessed. He was lifting pieces of metal and pushing around gigantic barrels that the two scientists used to need all their combined strength to even budge. He had stopped asking her for help, instead burying his face in the journal in an attempt to understand it all by himself. How much good that did him, Jay couldn’t quite tell, but he had managed to put a lot of the broken pieces back together, even if nothing actually turned on. 

Today had started mostly quiet, but as the hours passed, the curse words became more frequent and the slamming down of tools became a common occurrence. Stan was hitting a wall. He needed a drink.

“Hey, short stack, where does Poindexter keep the extra drinks?”

Jay peeked an eye open. She didn’t even hear him reenter the room. Had she been asleep all this time? “Uh oh, don’t tell me you passed out again.”

Jay pushed herself up on shaky arms. She had been sleeping a lot lately... 

“Um, I’m fine. And, I dunno… the fridge?”

“The fridge is empty. Drank up all his sodas and… other beverages. I need to know where the extra cases are. Poindexter’s always stocked up.”

“Extra cases?” Jay was hesitant. This felt like a trick. “Wouldn’t it… just be what’s in the fridge?”

“Haven’t you seen this place? It’s ready for the apocalypse. Besides, you’ve been here longer than I have, right?” Stan asked rhetorically, pulling up the stool and plopping down above her. Jay recoiled a bit, but regained her composure with a curt nod. “Shouldn’t you know where he keeps things?”

“Yeah, well, I–” she stopped. “I mean, you saw him before he… you know.” Jay shuddered at the memory. “He wasn’t entirely himself. I dunno where he might have put stuff.”

“Yeah, he pointed a crossbow at my face after sending me a postcard to come see him,” Stan grumbled, crossing his arms. He had tried his hardest to avoid thinking about that night. “Even after all these years… it didn’t feel like my brother.”

Jay nodded somberly. “Yeah.”

A sharp silence fell over the two. Their minds both swirled with questions about Ford; their time knowing him seemed to perfectly fill in the gaps that existed within both their relationships. Ford never talked about his time pre-Gravity Falls, except while reminiscing about college. Stan could tell her all about that. And Jay knew everything he’d been up to out on the west coast. But neither wanted to ask the other, and neither wanted to admit they were curious. So the silence stretched out until Jay was forced to ask the obvious, more pressing question.

“Is there… no food left? At all?”

Stan sat still for a moment. “Not really.”

“Oh.” Jay fiddled with her fingers. “Shouldn’t you, um… go buy some more, then?”

Despite trying to be as delicate as possible, she knew she made a mistake the moment the words left her mouth. Normally, the comment wouldn’t have bothered Stan so much, but he was at his wit’s end today, and he wasn’t in the mood to be bossed around. When he got particularly frustrated, there was only one rule — don’t say anything provoking. Just smile and nod and agree with everything he says. Jay was still learning.

“What did you just say?”

Jay shook her head. “Nothing, I was just – I meant –”

“No, I don’t think you understand. You’re not in charge here, you realize that, right?” A shadow passed over Stan’s face, and Jay clung to the cloth to hide her trembles. “You can’t tell me what to do. Nobody tells me what to do. Ever. Got it?”

Jay nodded her head vigorously, her gaze flickering between Stan’s giant, angry face and his giant, twitchy hands. “Sorry, it’s just – I thought humans needed to eat every day, that’s all.”

Stan gave her a look she could only describe as baffled. “What?”

“I – I meant –” Jay stuttered, her expression reserved. “What’s confusing about that?”

“You just called me human.”

Jay was even more confused now. “Isn’t that – yeah, that’s what you are.”

“Well, yeah, I guess, but –” Stan stopped, unsure where to go from there. He could practically feel the gears in his brain turning, trying to figure out why she worded that so weirdly, when he remembered that word she called herself – borrower. Clearly, there was a distinction to her. “What, and you don’t have to eat every day?”

She shrugged sheepishly. “Not… really. I can go a while without food or water.”

“Huh.” Stan didn’t think it would be any different. He suddenly felt stupid for leaving her food crumbs every day.  “That’s, uh. That’s strange.”

Jay didn’t say anything. What could she say?

Stan cleared his throat after a moment. “Well, I’m, uh… I guess I gotta go get some groceries, then.”

Jay blinked until realizing Stan was waiting for a response. “Oh. Okay.”

He pressed his palms on the table on either side of her and stood up, nearly causing Jay to fall backwards. Instead, she simply gawked at him as he walked toward the exit.

He stopped, though, and turned back around to look at her. They both stared.

“What?” Jay finally asked.

“What?” Stan repeated.

“Why are you just staring at me?”

“You’re the one staring at me!”

“Well, yeah, I’m waiting for you to leave!”

“Why? What are you gonna do when I’m gone?”

“Nothing! You just said you were leaving! So I’m waiting!”

Stan peered at her, taking a step closer. “Now I don’t trust you.”

“Wh–what could I possibly do!” Jay cried, throwing her arms out.

“I dunno, but you’re crafty. And trust me, I would know.”

“C’mon, there’s nothing I could even–”

“What if you’ve just been waiting for me to leave, and you try and sabotage that journal? Or mess with the portal somehow? I can’t take that chance…”

Before Jay could even process what that meant, her entire world was swept out from under her. She felt a familiar pressure on her stomach and back, and the blood rushed to her head as Stan pinched her waist and lifted her into the air. For a moment, everything was blurry, and then, darkness. She was flipped upside down on her back like a bug, comically flailing her limbs to swing herself upright. She eventually reached forward and grasped something soft, pulling herself up to her knees.

She knew this feeling all too well.

Stan lurched forward, not stopping for a second, his mission apparent. Jay used all her strength to grip the lip of his pocket and pull herself up.

“STANLEY!!!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “YOU CAN’T DO THIS! PUT ME BACK DOWN!”

Stan looked down – well, he tried to. All she could see was the underside of his chin, and all he could see was his red coat. 

“I can’t? Looks like I already did, kid,” he said mockingly. “If I can’t trust you to stay outta trouble, then you gotta come with me. Simple as that.”

“STAN–!” she would have yelled more, but she was thrown around when he stopped walking. “You can’t – I’m not supposed to –”

“If you’re worried someone’s gonna see you, trust me, they won’t,” he said, summoning the elevator. “I’m just goin’ into town for a minute and leaving. I don’t wanna be there long.”

“You don’t understand, people in this town, they’re –” she stopped, realizing her voice was shaking more than she wanted it to. “They’re – they’re too – curious for their own good, sometimes.”

“It’s cute of you to worry for me,” Stan said, stepping out onto the main floor. Jay squeaked in surprise as Stan gently pressed his finger down, pushing her fully into the pocket. “Now, pipe down unless you want everyone staring at us.”

“STAN!” she cried, but mainly out of frustration. He was right – she wanted no attention from those lunatics. But it wasn’t the fact that she was being brought into town that bothered her; it was that she was being brought into town against her will. In about 30 seconds, she had gone from sitting on the table by herself to being forcibly shoved into a dirty, smelly pocket. And it was dirty. Paper clips, lint balls, gum wrappers. Why was he even putting these things in his breast pocket, anyway? It was hard not to feel like just another piece of junk rattling around, destined to be forgotten.

Honestly, maybe it would be better to be forgotten. Why did Stan think she was going to do something to the portal? It’s not like she was never left alone down there. Some days, he actually remembered to go upstairs and sleep in an actual bed and not with his head down on the desk. Jay could have done anything during that time. But maybe trying to find logic in Stan’s actions was just a fruitless effort. He was just so – unpredictable. She never knew what he was going to say, how he was going to react. Any little thing could set him off. One second, he would be delicate, and the next, he’d grab her because he felt like it. She wasn’t sure how to work around that, or if she even could. 

The long trip gave her extra time to think, and her mind drifted to Ford. It was beginning to hit her that she may never see him again. Stan was admittedly noble for trying to figure out the portal, but it didn’t take Ford-level brains to see that he was probably not going to figure it out anytime soon, despite his efforts to make it work by sheer force. And he couldn’t seem to figure out if he actually wanted Jay’s help or just wanted to ride some kind of sadistic power trip over her. She figured he didn’t know, either.

She missed her playful banter with Ford. She missed when she would do something completely normal and he would treat it like a scientific breakthrough. She missed asking him about human stuff. She missed telling him all about borrowers as he excitedly jotted down, word-for-word, whatever she said. Ford was everything she knew a human could be. He cared about her struggles. Even if he didn’t fully understand, even if he didn’t always do the right thing, he tried, and that was all that mattered. And in all likelihood, she was never going to experience that again. Maybe it wasn’t meant to last more than a few years. Maybe that was all it was ever going to be.

High above her, Stan was caught up in his own turmoil. He tried to pretend that he wasn’t harboring a tiny being in his pocket, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t laser focused on the little weight in his pocket. He found himself wondering how it felt to be in there – carted around by a huge person, stuffed in a hot, tiny space. He would hate it. She probably did, too.

He couldn't decide if he liked her or thought she was disgusting. It was hard to imagine her being all that clean; but then again, he wasn’t exactly the shining example of hygiene. But she could get her little grimy hands all over his stuff! Like some kind of – little rat person. It all felt so unnatural. It was like having a pet he could talk to; but a pet with a really, really high IQ. 

Stan was a little baffled and a lot embarrassed at how much smarter she was than him. He supposed it was only natural after spending that much time with Ford, but it still made him angry. She was tiny. A pipsqueak! Stan could pin her down with one finger and almost no effort. She could get lost in the house and Stan would never be able to find her. How could something – someone – like that be so… observant? Astute? Sure of herself? It was just weird. Even in her moments of terror and confusion, she never came across as helpless, despite what she might think. If anything, she was intimidating at that size, carrying herself with a confidence that Stan knew he did not possess himself. And the way she reacted after the incident was nothing short of intriguing. Stan found it hard to care about people who weren’t himself, but the fear she exhibited in that moment of vulnerability surprised Stan so much that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. What had happened in her life to make her react like that? Stan knew she’d never tell him. But maybe one day, she would.

Suddenly, Jay’s vision was flooded with light, but all she could see was one of Stan’s massive eyes, peering at her, trying to make out her form. “You okay in there, short stuff?”

She was taken aback by the seemingly considerate question, so all she could do was nod. Stan barely saw it, but that was enough for him. “Good. We’re about to hit town.”

The next couple of hours were a blur. There was a lot of voices, a lot of stammering, a very fast heartbeat, and a lot of muffled protest. Just when Jay thought it was safe to peek out, there were no fewer than a dozen people following Stan back through town. And to her horror, he was leading them right back to the house, awkwardly trying to answer the questions thrown at him. Jay heard the familiar creak of the front door and nearly smacked her forehead. Why was he inviting them inside?! 

But not too long after, something in Stan’s demeanor changed. His body wasn’t rigid and nervous; it was pulsing with excitement. Jay’s stomach sank. This couldn’t be good.

Eventually, the noise stopped, and the voices died down. Whatever just happened, it was all over now.

“Oh, good, you’re still in there.”

Jay shut her eyes as light from the outside once again blinded her. She let out a squeak when Stan’s hand cupped her and lifted her into the air, holding her at eye level. Her heart was racing. He was beaming.

“Stanley…” she started, taking a moment to look around. Everyone else was gone, but she had to make sure this wasn't a trick. Stan’s hand twitched each time she pressed down on his palm with hers. “What just happened?”

“The best thing to ever happen to me just happened, kid!” Jay winced; he had never heard his voice so full of joy. “I mean, sure, those people? Total nutjobs. But they’re nutjobs with cash! Can you believe it? They want to pay for this junk!”

Jay was confused. “Pay for it?” 

“Didn’t you hear anything in there? I’m turnin’ this place into a tourist trap! We’re gonna be rich, tiny!”

Jay blinked. She had to suppress her desire to be sassy. None of this was making sense to her.

“Oh, don’t give me that look! It’s perfect! You can work on the portal during the day, then when I close up shop for the night, I can do all the stuff you can’t!” Stan tapped his chin. “Which is a lot, actually.”

Jay rolled her eyes, but he wasn’t done yet.

“Don’t you realize what this means? I’ll be able to buy us food, water, anything you want! We just have to fix this place up and get the word out, but if the tourists are even half as smart as the people in this town, that’ll be a piece of cake. Say, how does The Murder Hut sound to you?”

Jay stared, bewildered. Stan had this hunger in his eyes – the kind Ford used to get when he was on the verge of a breakthrough. But something still didn’t make sense to her.

“Hold on. I’m lost. You want to clean up the house and…”

“Make it a tourist trap, I already said that! People will come in, look at the stupid crap I set up, and then spend all their disposable income on gimmicky souvenirs! I’m sure all the weird stuff Ford’s been hoarding will–”

“Wait, wait. You mean… people, complete strangers, are just gonna be… wandering in and out of the house? All the time?”

Stan nodded with a grin. “Every day, baby!”

Jay was floored. That sounded insane! Ford wouldn’t want this! How could Stan even think to ruin his life’s work like that? And what if they discovered the portal?

“You can’t – this is Ford’s home! He built it from the ground up! This is is whole life! You can’t just–”

“Listen, kid, I know you don’t really know how this all works,” Stan cut in, trying not to get too angry. “But believe me when I say there is nothing we can do to get my brother back if I don’t have the money to keep the lights on. And right now, this is the best option I’ve got. All we have to do is move around some stuff and make this top floor like a museum. Nobody will ever go downstairs; it’ll be our little secret. Make sense?”

“A – museum?” Jay knew what that was. Humans would display artifacts and things they found interesting inside. And if Stan wanted to put all of Ford’s research on display… what would be more interesting for humans to look at than–

“Don’t worry, kid, I’m not gonna stick you in a display case,” Stan said, his usual snappiness pulled back just a touch. Holding her so close to him, it was painfully obvious when her mind wandered to the worst-case scenario. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Jay wasn’t sure if she believed him, but she had no choice but to trust him. “I mean – thanks. But I just – I dunno, I…” She stole a glance at Stan’s face, but quickly looked away. God, he was so close. So big. “That’s a lot of people to hide from, you know?”

Stan sighed. He wanted to roll his eyes and tell her to stop whining, but the tug in his gut made him soften his expression. “I’ll make sure nobody sees you, kid. I promise.”

Jay didn’t know what to say. Stan had never sounded that sincere before.

“Look, I know you don’t think very highly of me, and I guess I haven’t done much to prove otherwise. But there is nothing I wouldn’t do for my family. So if it means rearranging my brother’s home, selling myself out for a quick buck, and worrying about some shrimp who can’t even walk across the room without my help… then I’m gonna do whatever it takes. This is the only way, Jay.”

Jay sat in silence for a long moment before letting out a long, drawn out sigh. How did Stan do this to her? How did he manage to make her feel okay about all this? How did she feel so safe in his hand right now? It must be a Pines thing.

Stan waited with bated breath for Jay to say something. Just when he concluded she might not say a thing, the unmistakable sound of her tiny voice hit his ears.

“The Murder Hut is a terrible name.”

Stan blinked. He was not expecting that. He stared at her – this tiny, remarkable little being, just sitting in his hand, legs crossed, arms pushing down, regarding him with equal amounts of wonder and disgust – and burst out laughing. She flinched at the sound at first, but soon found that she couldn't help herself. Laughter was contagious.

“What!” Stan said through chuckles. “How – how could you say that! It’s a great name!”

Jay couldn’t stop smiling. “Why would people want to go to a place advertising murder?”

“Oh, come on! It’s edgy, it’s mysterious. It’s what the people want.”

“If you want mystery… why not just name it, like, the Mystery Hut instead?”

“Oh, please! That’s… huh.” Stan thought about it for a moment. “That’s actually pretty good.”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah! A mysteeeeerious old place, tucked away deeeeeep in the woods… a run-down shack, full of treasures, just waiting to be discovered! Are they even of this world? Come and find out!”

Jay giggled at his salesman voice. “Sounds like a place I’d want to visit.”

Stan found himself smiling at her amusement. “Heh, yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”

For the first time, the silence that fell over the two was comfortable, not suffocating.

“Alright, Stanley Pines. I’m trusting you here.”

Stan smirked. “Alright, Jay, uh… Jay Tiny. I won’t letcha down.”

“No, you really should.”

Stan furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Let me down. I’m getting dizzy up here.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’ve been holdin’ you up here for a while, huh?” I wonder how high up that looks. As gentle as he’s ever been, he lowered the tiny down to her familiar table. “There ya go.”

“Th-thanks,” she muttered, keeping her eyes down as she adjusted to the shift in perspective. 

“Now, you get some sleep, tiny. You’re gonna need all the energy you can get if we want to get this place cleaned up.” Stan paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “You, uh… you sure you don’t want me to take you upstairs? Check out Ford’s old room? Hang out with the human for a night?”

Jay smirked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that, I just – Ford always thought it was funny, too. Found it fascinating that we had our own observations on human culture. I kinda forget that humans don’t call other humans humans.” She cleared her throat. She was talking too much. “But, uh, I’m alright. I’ll just stay here tonight.” She really didn’t want to go back in his hand. “I, um, might look at the journal some more. See if there’s something we’re missing.”

“Suit yourself,” Stan shrugged, though his tone suggested he was a little dismayed. “I’m gonna get some shut-eye. That was the most social interaction I’ve had in a year, and I’m beat.”

Jay gave him a soft smile. Though he brought this entire situation upon himself, it was clear this was weighing on him, too. He kept his promise about keeping her hidden all day, and that meant something to her. 

“Goodnight, Stanley.”

Stan turned around, still utterly bewildered at how someone who can blend into the surroundings on a tabletop could be a good companion for him. Maybe he needed to be a little more open-minded. Maybe, just maybe, this whole thing could be good for him.

He was mindlessly flipping through the journal one day when he suddenly stormed off, presumably to find a soda, or something a little stronger. Curious as to what got him so mad, Jay trotted over to the open journal and ambled onto the page, setting her hands on her hips as she read over the impossibly large display.

Jay’s eyes scanned the page dutifully, trying to pick up the little things she learned from Ford. He had shown her that equations that seemed like a random amalgamation of letters, numbers and squiggles actually had meaning when you knew what stood for what.

That’s when she spotted it. It was a large, red W – something Ford called the “weirdness coefficient.” She didn’t know exactly what it was used for, but she actually recognized the string of data that succeeded it. She followed it along, running across the page a few times to get it all in her head. She was so distracted that she never noticed Stanley enter the room, drink in hand. The loud cracking of the can’s tab snapped her back to reality. 

“Ew,” Stan said, eyeing her with suspicion as he sat down. “Why are you so sweaty?”

“No! Don’t sit! You’ve gotta help me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think I figured something out.”

Stan nearly spit out his drink. “You? Figuring something out? Hah, sure, and I’m a millionaire.”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Jay retorted. “It’s not like you’ve done anything.”

“It’s only been a couple of days, squirt. I’m just gettin’ started.”

Jay rolled her eyes. Stan’s machismo attitude was really unmatched. “Okay, well, can you hear me out on this one?” Stan took a long sip of his soda, then nodded. “Okay, you see this here? This big W? That’s the weirdness coefficient. It’s supposed to account for the average amount of weirdness – or, anomalies – that can leak through to this dimension at any given time. So this equation here, it stipulates the maximum amount of W – weirdness – that can be allowed through P, or the portal. So, we have to make sure the leakage output doesn’t exceed this number here.” She pointed to a bold number circled in red, looking up at Stan, a little winded from all the talking. 

Stan blinked. “I have no idea what you just said.”

She groaned. “It means we have to input this number,” she tapped it again for good measure, “into that machine over there.”

Stan squinted at her tiny arm pointing outward, trying to hide his amused smile. He turned around, then turned back. “How do you know that’s the right one?”

“I just know. I saw Ford using it a million times.”

“What if you’re wrong and we blow up the place?”

“Hey, if you don’t trust me, you can just say you don’t trust me.”

“Alright. I don’t trust you.”

“Okay, you weren’t actually supposed to say it,” Jay said, crossing her arms. “Come on! How can we work together if you won’t listen to me?”

Stan tapped his chin. He seemed to actually be thinking about it. “You bring up a valid point.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Now, could you put the number in?”

For the slightest moment, Stan hesitated. The inflection in her voice, and the authoritative way in which she spoke, sounded so much like Ford that it almost made him scream. Yes, yes, I know might as well have been his catchphrase. Stan tried really, really hard not to think about it, but for a nanosecond, his mind was filled with so much pain at the reminder of this little person spending so much time with Ford that she picked up on his speaking patterns that it made him want to curl up his fist and –

He stopped. Come on, Stan, you need her. You know you do. The sooner Ford is back, the sooner you’ll never have to see her again.

“Where am I putting it in, short stuff?” he finally asked. Jay tried to point him in the right direction, but even when he found the right knobs, he didn’t know how to do it correctly.

“Ugh, why don’t you just do it?” Stan sighed angrily.

Jay furrowed her brow. “This again? Are you serious?”

“Don't think this doesn't hurt my ego. But the only thing worse than having you do it is listening to you squeak about it,” Stan grumbled. “Now, c’mon, just do this so we can move on.”

Jay nervously laughed. He didn’t sound like he was joking. “Stanley, I don't know if you’ve noticed, but I can’t exactly walk over there and start pressing buttons.”

“What, I thought you wanted to be all self-sufficient? And didn’t you say you were good at climbing?”

Jay clenched her jaw. Maybe telling him little things about borrower life wasn't such a good idea. “Well, yeah, but I don’t – that would take a while, and I don’t think you want to wait. So just, listen, you just have to–”

“Nope! Not this again,” Stan declared. He took a few steps toward her and was now looming over her, hand twitching. She knew what he was about to do, but was powerless to stop it.

“Be – careful!” she yelped. She felt her arm bend uncomfortably against her body as Stan stuck his hand underneath her and lifted her into the air. She shut her eyes tight as the pressure in her head mounted. Even when they stopped moving, it didn’t feel like it.

Stan stared intently, wondering why she wasn’t moving. “Uh. You okay?”

His booming voice only made her ears ring more. It had to be 30 full seconds before she finally felt centered again. Her stomach dropped when she opened her eyes and saw just how far the ground was. Sure, she had been up higher, but the anxiety of sitting in Stan’s hand only exacerbated her unease. She never even felt 100% secure in Ford’s hand, given the way he would sometimes forget she was there. Fidds was the only one she felt remotely comfortable holding her.

“Tiny? Hello?” Stan shook his hand a bit, as if the issue was that she forgot where she was. He felt the tiniest of pressures as she pushed her palms into his, and he immediately stopped moving. Oh.

“Please – move slower,” she croaked, not even bothering to look up at him. “And don’t just pick me up without asking.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” he said, sounding a bit dismissive. Truthfully, he was fully aware and then some about what he just did, but he didn’t want to admit that he probably fucked up. He walked the few steps over to where the control console was and stuck his arm out, holding her out in front like a platform.

“Okay, short stack. Just tell me where to move you.”

“The row of five switches with the red light up there.” Stan pointed to confirm, and she nodded. “Yeah, that one.”

She should have prepared for how fast he was going to move, but it still caught her off guard. She wanted to yell at him for not listening, but getting fresh with a giant while she was in their hand was not something she was interested in.

Stan chuckled in amusement at how much effort it took her to turn the knob, and it turned to a full-blown laugh at the way she couldn’t push one of the switches back up.

“Oh, is this funny to you?” she huffed, clearly exhausted.

“Oh, yes,” Stan grinned. “Extremely.”

“Just – flick it yourself, please,” she sighed, plopping down in his palm. His hand reflexively twitched at the movements, and he shot her a brief look. Man, she actually looks beat from that.

“Fine, fine. Let the big guy show you how it’s done,” Stan said with that smarmy smile. Jay watched incredulously at the way his arm seemed to stretch on forever from his body to the panel. It hung over her like a heavy barrier; something her weight wouldn’t even register against. He could swing his arm and knock her off his hand and he wouldn’t feel a thing.

It was even worse watching him flick the switch with ease. Sure, she had watched Ford and Fidds do crazy human things all the time, but something about the way Stan did it was different. It was almost… taunting.

“There. Now what?”

“Well, if I’m right, it should–”

Suddenly, she couldn’t speak. It was as if her entire body was frozen. A dull sensation reverberated through her, and then, pain. A loud popping sound zapped her ears and she fell backwards, landing hard on her butt, her head ringing, her body aching.

“Woah!” Stan shouted, flinching back. A small spark jumped out from the panel, but he narrowly avoided it. “Was that supposed to–” he started, but stopped. She wasn't moving. Again.

“Hey, tiny, you alright?” Nothing. “Kid?” Still nothing. She was definitely breathing, but seemed to be in a lot of pain. “Jay, you okay?”

She grit her teeth, trying to usher the pain out of her body. Luckily, it melted away after a few seconds, and even though her head was spinning, she was alright. It was no worse than being whipped around on Stan’s hand, anyway.

“I’m fine,” she finally said, though her voice almost sounded like it was glitching. She took another moment to recompose herself. “Guess it didn’t work.”

Stan almost forgot to respond. “I don’t even know what it was supposed to do.”

“It was supposed to – once you put in the W maximum, it should have calibrated a couple other systems. Thing must be fried after the portal was turned on.”

“Oh,” Stan said, pretending to understand. “So, how do we fix it?”

“I – don’t know,” Jay admitted. “I’ve never been inside there before. Not really sure what to do with the wires.”

Stan hummed, unsure of where to go from here. This was the most tangible progress they had made since forming this unlikely alliance, and it got them nowhere.

“Well, uh, if it makes you feel any better… good job.” Jay winced at the way he sounded like the words were being tortured out of him. “Figuring this thing out, I mean.”

“I got it,” Jay said, a small smile forming on her lips. Why did that compliment make her feel so… warm? “Thanks, Stanley.”

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t be expecting any more compliments from me,” he shot back, though there was no bite to it. “Don’t want you going soft on me.”

“Psh. Never in a million years,” Jay teased.

To her surprise, Stan set her down slowly on the table before burying his head back in the journal. He was only half-reading it, though, because he couldn’t get his mind off Jay. It was so contradictory – every time she did something impressive, like spout mathematical nonsense she had no business knowing, she would be rendered immobile by a slight altitude change or a small electric shock. She was so much more fragile than he thought. It was beginning to dawn on him that he actually did have to be careful, or else he might accidentally kill her. He shuddered at the thought. He couldn’t be so reckless when it came to someone’s entire life. 

Not again.

Ever since then, he seemed to care a little bit more about her opinion, which confused Jay to no end, but she didn’t complain. Even if he was invasive and had no regard for her personal space, he seemed to have a... gentler air about him. Like he was trying more.

But it didn’t always show, especially when he got frustrated. They were rapidly approaching that territory right now.

“I think the red wire has to connect to the other end,” she said, glancing at the journal. “No, not that one, the other one! Right there – you keep missing it!”

Stan clenched his teeth. He was getting tired of being bossed around. “Well, if it’s so easy, why don’t you come do it?”

Jay felt her blood boil. “I hate when you say that.”

Stan grinned wildly. “I know.”

“Ugh.” Jay flopped on her back. “We’re not getting anywhere.”

“We? You’re not even doin’ anything.” Stan abandoned his rewiring effort and joined Jay at the table. “Maybe you’re reading this thing wrong.” He grabbed the journal and pulled it to him, taking Jay along with it. She yelped and held on tight as she was moved at a blinding speed from one side of the table to the other.

“C’mon, get off,” Stan began to shoo her away like a fly, and Jay quickly jumped off the book. “I gotta look at this thing.”

Jay stumbled when she landed, staring up at Stan with a disapproving look until she gave up trying to telegraph her annoyance. The worst part was he didn’t ignoring her maliciously; he genuinely didn’t care that she was there. She swallowed, her unease growing at the extended silence as Stan scanned the journal. She had been in close physical proximity to him for basically a week now, and it was unnerving. She had no idea what he was ever going to do, and the only thing stopping him from picking her up all the time was that she grossed him out. But that didn’t feel like a strong enough motivator to stop him from swiping her clean off the table if he got mad enough.

“Ugh, what am I missing?” Stan groaned. He tilted his head, along with the journal, trying to find some hidden message.

Jay marveled at the way he so easily swung the book around. “I don’t think you’re missing anything. There’s only so many ways to read it.”

“C’mon, short stack, you hung out with my know-it-all brother more than any female ever has. You gotta know something. What about these…” he narrowed his eyes, “weird secret codes?”

“Yeah, I’ve tried my best with those, but I don’t think I know enough to figure them out.”

“I’ll say,” Stan mumbled under his breath. Jay heard it, but chose to ignore it.

Stan took a moment to think. Maybe I should go to the library and find a book about this or somethin’. Hah, now I’m really thinking like Ford. But the last thing he wanted was to go into town. There had to be an answer in the journal somewhere. Where there’s a test, there’s always an answer sheet.

But first, he was going to do it his way.

“I’m gonna go shove the lever around again,” Stan announced, grabbing the tool box and disappearing into the portal room. Jay knew it was a futile effort, so while Stan got himself needlessly tired, she would go back to working on her secret project — the new hook that would buy her freedom. 

At best, Stan was tolerable, and being at his mercy was giving her increasing amounts of anxiety. If she couldn’t go back for the contraptions that Fidds made her, she’d just have to do it the old fashioned way. But she only went to work when Stan was asleep or in the portal room. There was no way he could know about this.

Jay had been relegated to sleeping on the table while Stan was here. He had only gone upstairs to get food and drinks, often falling asleep right on the table and getting back to work when his own snores jolted him awake.

Thankfully, there was plenty of material to work with. Not so thankfully, none of it was a rope and a paper clip. She had already fashioned two hooks out of sharp pieces of metal, so her next step was either finding something long enough to lower her to the ground or tying a bunch of short but sturdy things together. Even a parachute could work at this rate.

Her mind flashed back to times with Ford, when they would test out her physics with paper hang gliders and makeshift obstacle courses out of rulers and tape dispensers. He went through a phase of trying to see how far a fall she could take before hurting herself, but that only lasted a week before Jay made him drop the subject. His final conclusion? “Very far.”

Evidently, though, she got too into tinkering, because she didn’t even notice when Stan walked back into the room, jacket shed and face sweaty from all the work. He watched her curiously, trying to see what exactly she was doing. Maybe she just messes with metal like it’s a toy or something. She was working on sharpening her hooks and finding heavy enough things to wrap them around when Stan cleared his throat, and she nearly shot 500 feet in the air.

“What’re you doing?” Stan asked.

“Nothing!” Jay squeaked. “I mean, not nothing nothing, I’m just – it’s –”

But Stan was no longer interested in her ramblings. He reached down and carefully pinched one of the metal hooks between his fingers, ripping it right out of her hands.

“HEY!” she yelled, but to no avail. Even if she could fight him for it, it wouldn’t have mattered, because her legs turned to jelly and her arms became numb the moment his massive fingers came next to her, filling her entire body with a sense of dread. She quickly let go to avoid being pulled up into the air.

“What is this…?” Stan turned the object, observing it intently, marveling at just how damn small it was. Jay felt sick at how miniscule her only path to freedom looked between Stan’s fingers. 

“It’s nothing! Give it back!” she tried, but one glance from Stan promptly shut her up and even pushed her back a few steps. God, he’s so far away.

“Huh… you made this?” he asked, holding it out to her. She just shrugged, unwilling to answer.

Stan wouldn’t have been suspicious otherwise, but he had spent the better part of his life either around criminals or being the criminal. He knew what guilt looked like. He also knew a bad liar when he saw one. He just couldn’t figure out what she was trying to hide.

Not at first, anyway.

He tried to think: if he was that tiny, what would he need something like this for? It certainly wasn’t for fixing the portal, so what was it for? Fun? Stan didn’t know what was so fun about bent metal. Maybe she was just bored? Then there was no reason for her to act so suspicious. She would have just said so.

Then it hit him. What’s the one thing she wanted more than anything, besides getting Ford back? To be left alone. And it wasn’t like she could just walk out of the room whenever she wanted.

She had been looking for an escape since Stan found her. She was manufacturing a way out.

Stan ahh’d in realization, and the way Jay’s face went pale was all the confirmation he needed. 

“Not sure how you were planning to escape with this, and I admire the effort. Really! But you can’t hustle a hustler, kid.”

Jay didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t matter. Her heart was pounding, her breathing labored. She had no clue what was coming next.

“Look, if you don’t wanna be here, I won’t stop you. In case you haven't noticed, I’m not running a charity here. I’m trying to get my brother back, and I can’t seem to figure out if that’s really what you want or not.” He callously tossed the metal back to her, and she scrambled out of the way as it clanged a few inches from her. “So scram, alright? Get outta here.”

Jay blinked. He was… really going to let her go like that? She didn’t believe him. Humans didn’t do that. They never did. They’d always be back.

But that part didn’t even matter, because she did want Ford back. Even with the threat of opening the portal, she wanted her best friend back more than anything. She just really, really hated working with his irritating brother, and she didn’t know how to deal with him. The only people she had ever dealt with this closely were Ford and Fidds. She wasn’t used to anything else. She couldn't handle anything else.

“I’m – I’m not trying to – to leave,” Jay stammered. God, that sounded so pathetic. “I just – need some freedom, that’s all.”

A light went off in Stan’s head. “You can’t leave, can you?”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Of course I can leave–”

“No, not this room, this house. You don’t want to leave here. There’s nowhere else for you to go.”

“I–” Jay started, but she had no words. He was right. He was right, damn it! He saw her as this helpless little thing, and he was right.

“Huh, so the squirt that thinks she’s better than me needs me to keep her safe. Right?”

“I don’t – I don’t think I’m better than you!” Jay said, but it didn’t sound convincing. And she didn’t even try and dispute the other point.

Stan’s face scrunched up. “Huh, you sure act like it. Well, squirt, you may need me, but I don’t need you. If you disappeared right now, I wouldn’t waste my energy lookin’ for you, because I’m the one who actually cares about fixing this damn thing and saving Ford!”

Jay knew fighting back would be a bad idea. It had never, ever worked before. But she couldn’t take the constant antagonizing. She just couldn’t.

“Stop acting like I don’t want him back, either!” Jay blurted. Stan looked at her in surprise, but it was too late. The floodgates were open. She was tired of hearing this. “It’s just – it’s dangerous! And there’s only so much I can do!”

“Yeah, and you do a pretty terrible job! Half the time you sit there and mock me for not knowing the “difference” between a picture and a diagram! And there isn’t even a difference!”

“There is!”

“See! You’re just like Ford, always talking down to me, acting like I’m just some – bumbling idiot who can’t possibly be on his level.”

“That’s not true!” Jay asserted. “I don’t think you’re an idiot!”

“Well you certainly fooled me!”

“You’re just – so stubborn!” Jay was nearing the edge of the table now. “You ask for my help, and yet you can’t even fathom that I would know something you don’t!”

“Maybe I’d listen to you more if you weren’t so damn tiny! I’m taking orders from someone who can’t even walk up the stairs by herself!”

Jay’s eyes widened in shock. Oh, so that was it. Of course it was. How could she think it was anything else? Her heart was racing now, her stomach churning. How could she respond? Why did she ever think she could fight a giant?

“And you act like you’re so much better because you were best friends with him,” Stan sneered, placing particular mocking emphasis on that part. “He’s MY brother! MY family! He probably only talked to you because you’re – weird and small and he felt bad! You’re just a thing, an experiment for him to get all excited about! He never cared about you!”

Jay knew responding would be a bad idea, but her lips moved faster than her brain. “Oh yeah? He didn’t even want to think about you! I didn’t even know you existed until you showed up here! Maybe if you weren’t such a lazy freeloader, he would–”

You had been getting ready for a borrowing trip in the dimly-lit apartment, which was extra dark now that the sun set before 4 p.m. in the winter months. Unfortunately, that spelled disaster for your tiny little eyes.

You had no idea the human had set up mouse traps until you were caught right in the jaws of one. You had heard horror stories about those things, which killed rodents in an instant. In retrospect, you have no idea how it didn't kill you, even if it just got your ankle. The pain was excruciating, made even worse by the human getting home. Crap. It was already 5:30?! You were supposed to be done with this by now! Maybe if you stayed oh so still, he wouldn't notice...

A jolt of pain shot up your leg, and you yelped in surprise before hurriedly covering your mouth and biting down on your tongue.

No such luck.

Chandler blinked, convinced he was imagining things. But no, the figure was still there, huddled and shaking and staring at him with a burning fear he had never really seen before.

What the hell was he supposed to do? Why -- how was this even possible? They looked just like a person, but...

He crouched down slowly, his heart racing. He had to get a closer look. His heart skipped a beat when a bit of red caught his eye -- it was a small trickle of blood running down their leg.

"Oh my god..." he breathed in shock. They were hurt. His gaze flickered to the mouse trap, just a foot away.

Oh, shit.

"Hey, um, are you... okay?" he asked softly, a hint of hesitation to his voice. Despite his overwhelming confusion, the last thing he wanted was to startle this... tiny person any further.

The small figure flinched at the sound of his voice, curling into an even tighter ball. Chandler cursed to himself. That was stupid. Of course they're not okay! Could they be any more hurt? This is all my fault, too. Way to go, dumbass, you just had to set up a mouse trap, didn't you?

No. Stop. He had to focus. How did this tiny person get into his apartment? And more importantly, how could he help them?

"Okay, Chandler, think," he muttered to himself. "What would Monica do?"

Well, Monica wouldn't hesitate. She would help them instantly, and she would fix up that wound first. Then, she would offer to cook them a nice, warm meal to calm their nerves and distract them from their fear.

Monica would be confident, kind and caring. So that's what Chandler had to do.

With a deep breath, he shuffled closer to get a better look, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"Hey there, little guy," he began again, keeping his tone gentle. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. My name is Chandler. Can you tell me yours?"

You hesitated. You knew this human was the more... intelligent of the bunch, but that didn't matter. He was a human. He had set up this mouse trap! He nearly killed you!

But he didn't mean to, you said to yourself. That clearly wasn't for me. And I might need his help if I ever want to move again.

The tiny person hesitated, clearly spooked out of their wits just talking to him. Chandler sighed, opening his mouth to speak again, before you cut him off.

"I'm... Ari," you whispered, voice barely audible. But Chandler heard you, and he smiled.

"Hi, Ari," Chandler said, almost breathlessly. "You... you're, uh, you're hurt. Obviously, you know you're hurt. Great observation, genius." He rubbed his eyes. Ugh, Monica wouldn't have said that. "Just, um... can I help you? Please? I promise I won't do anything to scare you. You just... you look really awful."

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with fear. You couldn't help it, he was gigantic. But even though his uncertainty, you could tell he was sincere. You gave him an almost imperceptible nod, still unsure if you really wanted to do this. But of course, he saw.

Chandler exhaled with relief. "Okay," he said, whipping his head up to the bathroom door. "Okay. I'm going to -- there's a first aid kit in the bathroom. Just -- stay right there, alright?"

He stood up slowly, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. He stayed still for a moment, marveling, making sure he wasn't bleeding from the ears and hallucinating. This little thing was so small. Obviously, you went to the mouse trap looking for food. His stomach twisted into a million knots. That thing could have killed her.

He pushed that thought out of his mind, grabbing the first aid kit as fast as possible. When he got back, he was silently relieved you were still there, though there was probably no way you were moving right now anyway. He down on the floor, cross-legged, a safe distance from you. You watched him warily as he opened the small box.

"Alright, I've got some antiseptic and some, uhm, bandages here. Well, I don't think the bandages will do you much good, since they're as tall as your whole body, but--" He paused, his face going pale when he noticed your reaction to that. "No offense, though! It's just -- well... you're really, really small, huh?"

You stared back, bemused. He sure was blunt, wasn't he? If you didn't know any better, you'd almost think he was... nervous.

He sighed, wondering if he had accidentally broken a tiny person taboo by pointing out your height. It wasn't his fault if he did, he didn't know!

You stared as he reached into the box with those impossibly long limbs and pulled out a cotton ball, soaking it in a clear liquid. You eyed it nervously. What was that?

Chandler noticed your ghostly white face and knew he had to stop messing around if he wanted to help you. "I'm just going to clean the wound first, okay? It'll probably sting, but I promise, it's supposed to do that. It'll go away quickly."

You eyed him cautiously, but nodded. He seemed very confident in that, and you're pretty sure you had seen it before with humans -- stuff that hurts wounds temporarily, but helps them in the long run. With a steady hand, Chandler gently dabbed at the cut on your leg. Your eyes widened at the cotton ball, which was as big as your chest, was pinched between two gigantic fingertips. You winced when he got close, but didn't pull away.

He was right. It did sting. A lot. You hissed, not wanting to embarrass yourself by screaming, but you had to bear down and suck it up. If the human thought you were too weak, he would never let you go.

"There. See? Not so bad, was it?"

You shook your head, pretending it didn't hurt like hell. The rest was a blur -- he cut a bandage into little pieces, trying to get the right amount of cloth and sticky part to stay on your leg. You had resigned to your fate, but as he kept working, you found you weren't as nervous. He clearly wanted to help, because nothing was stopping him from hurting you even more.

"There you go," he said, smiling. You blinked. He was done already? He had been so... delicate. "All better. Are you... how are you feeling?"

You shrugged, still a bit unsure, but less frightened than before. "I'm... okay."

"Good," Chandler said, sitting back on his heels. Gosh, he was huge. "Now, how about we get you something to eat? I think I have some crackers around here somewhere."

Before you could even respond, he stood up and walked to the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets until he found what he was looking for. In an instant, he was back in front of you. How did humans move so fast? It was dizzying to watch up close.

"Here you go, lil guy. It's not much, but hey, it's something, right?"

He laughed nervously, not surprised when you didn't respond. He gently placed the cracker bit on the ground and slid it toward you, not wanting his hands to get too close. It was freaking him out that you were as tall as his finger.

The tiny person took the cracker hesitantly, nibbling on it like a mouse. Chandler watched you, mostly fascinated at how a tiny human being could exist, but his mind was racing with questions. Why were you here? Were you in danger? Did you have somewhere to go?

"Hey, uh, Ari," he prodded gently. "Do you... have somewhere to go? Is there someone I can call to help you?" He instantly groaned. Yeah, because tiny people have itty bitty little phones they can answer. Stupid, Chandler, stupid!

You shook your head, and tears suddenly welled up in your eyes. Crap, why am I crying? He's going to think I'm more pathetic that I already am! "I... I don't have anyone. I was..." You stopped, eyes darting to the floor. You didn't need to tell him everything. "It's just me."

Chandler's heart broke. Nobody? Was she the only tiny person in existence? He didn't want to think about how that was possible. He had the sudden urge to -- no, Monica would never do that. She'd be more careful, right? But he wasn't Monica, and some way, somehow... he seemed to trust you. Hell, he let you dab antiseptic on your leg. That had to count for something, right? Joey didn't even let Chandler take out splinters for him.

After a moment of hesitation, he reached out, offering his hand to you. He tried to ignore the way you jumped at the movement.

"Well, you're safe here, okay? You can stay with me for as long as you need, or at least until your leg is better. We can figure this out together, right?"

You looked at him curiously. A human was... offering her a place to stay, after helping her clean her wound. Was this real? Did she actually die, and this was one elaborate scheme drawn up in her head? The pain coursing through her body told her no, she was alive, and this was very, very real. The human wanted to help.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with gratitude, even at the sight of a ginormous being. Ever so slowly, you reached your hand out to his, pressing your palm against his fingertip. This has to be a first for all borrowerkind, you thought.

"Th-thank you, Chandler," you whispered. You didn't know how he could even hear your voice.

"Hey, don't mention it," Chandler said. "We're friends now, right?"

Friends. You actually made a friend. That was a first for you.

"Can I..." Chandler started, unsure how to ask. "Can I help you off the floor? It's probably disgusting down there."

You blinked. He was asking to carry you. You had to go into the human's hand. You had nightmares about this kind of stuff. But somehow... it didn't scare you like you thought it would. Maybe because you had observed this human so many times, or maybe it was because of the kindness he showed you.

Maybe it was because he called you a friend.

You swallowed, but knew deep down it was the best idea. Being on the floor was unsafe and filled you with anxiety. At least on the counter, you didn't have to look up so incredibly far at him.

To your delight, Chandler broke out into a smile at your small nod. He gently lifted his hand, helping you stay standing on your good leg, before slipping his other hand underneath you and scooping you up. Huh. He was surprisingly good at that.

"I'll go slow," he said under his breath, eyes scanning the room for the best spot. A lightbulb went off in his head. "Mind if we sit on the chair? That way you have somewhere soft to sit. And the Knicks are gonna start soon."

You nodded with a small laugh. Now you were gonna watch sports with a human? This really was a day for the impossible to happen.

You were surprised that he actually stuck to his word -- his movements were slow, careful and deliberate, even if you could feel his hands trembling slightly. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.