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Ford wandered around in a daze, as he had been for who knows how long. The world he traveled had long since ceased to be familiar so all comfort had gone out of it.
Everything he saw was just another thing he'd destroyed. Or at least something he'd failed to save.
Sometimes there were people and something invisible would prod him towards them. The first few times, he'd followed it. But there was no enjoyment in it. Now he just ignored it.
Sometimes the invisible thing would prod much harder, directing him away from something rather than toward it. Then he would listen. He figured it was just Bill trying to keep him out of trouble. He didn't want trouble.
Bill was waiting for him to "get over himself" and Ford let him. He didn't care how disappointed Bill was with him. The little motivational speeches he liked to give Ford went in one ear and out the other.
For once, Bill was just going to have to live with the consequences of his actions. Just like Ford had to.
Because at the top of the long list of things Bill wouldn't let Ford do, was die. Though Ford wasn't sure what he was doing could necessarily be called living. He simply existed and that was awful enough.
Sometimes Bill asked what he wanted or what would make him happy but he never liked the answers Ford gave. Ford didn't understand why he asked. Maybe Bill missed him. Once upon a time, Ford had missed Bill, but of all the people he missed now, Bill was at the bottom of the list.
It was funny. Bill had done so many terrible things to him. He'd lied to him and betrayed him. Then came the games: the horrible scenarios Bill had forced him into across the multiverse until everyone around him started to look like a tool or an obstacle, until the only things that mattered were himself and his revenge, until even The Oracle had feared him (though, she'd still offered her guidance). All of that, he probably could have forgiven—or at least ignored.
But when Ford returned to the place he'd reluctantly started to think of as home, something changed.
A man he despised had moved mountains to bring him home, something he had gone on to prove time and time again that didn't deserve. And two children, who should have been damaged beyond the ability to trust anyone, had accepted him, even after learning what he'd done. When he had to face the thought of leaving them, he'd schemed a dozen ways to keep them at his side, but he couldn't go through with it. They deserved better.
That didn't mean he didn't ask them to stay, though, looking back, he probably could have gone about it better. The one time in over a decade that he tried to do the right thing because it was the right thing and the world had ended.
He gave it one last-ditch effort but, when that failed, he knew he'd do anything to keep his family safe and happy, no matter what it cost him.
The world?
A small price to pay.
His soul and whatever humanity he had left?
Take it.
His revenge?
Fine. He'd just blown his last chance anyway.
A small act to prove his loyalty?
What could go wrong?
But Bill just had to play one final game, didn't he?
He had witnessed the fear and betrayal on a little boy's face and decided to take a victory lap.
Ford should have been more suspicious of why Bill insisted he prove his loyalty before the deal went into effect. Sure he'd expected it to come back to bite him, but not like that.
Drowning in memories, Ford looked down at his hands and wondered if he was imagining the stain.
It was a mistake.
It wasn't just blood he could still see.
For just a moment, Dipper lay helpless beneath him again, crying and begging him to stop.
Ford had wanted to stop, even as he'd meticulously cut into his nephew, drawing out the death with a smile. He'd never wanted anything more in his life. Every ounce of willpower he had gone into regaining control of his body but it wasn't enough.
Then the vision shifted, and Dipper was damaged beyond recognition—no longer a little boy but a pile of meat.
And when whatever horrible control Bill had released, well… He could still hear his own screams ringing in his ears alongside the laughter that he was sure could be heard for miles.
Bill thought it was just another game. He thought Ford would bounce back in a couple of days and accept his position at Bill's side with a smile. He thought he'd completed the final step in making his monster.
And why would he have thought differently? Ford was a monster; he would have done the same thing to another child and walked away unaffected. Alienating his family and overriding their free will was already an accepted part of the deal. Hell! he might have traded Dipper's life for the others' safety willingly. It would've hurt but he would have done it. Logically, what Bill did, wasn't any different.
So why had it broken Ford?
He forced himself to look away from the gruesome mirage and kept walking. The only thing he could hold onto was that Stan and Mabel were alive and safe and happy. Strangely enough, Bill had included Stan's employees as part of the family, so they were safe too. Ford could only assume that whatever other family he had left out there would be spared as well.
Oh, and Ford would be okay.
What an injustice! What an absolute cosmic joke!
Everyone and everything else would eventually be destroyed, but Ford would still be here. Alone. Forever.