Green trees. Blue sky. Red confusion.

"Oh, uh, hey there...kiddo. What's your name?"

Tears, shouting. Confusion.

"We had to erase his mind to defeat Bill."

More tears. A hug from a stranger, but that felt so right.

"You're our hero, Stanley."

A strange request to switch clothes. A walk through the bright woods.

"It's your place, Grunkle Stan."

What a funny title. He liked the sound of it.

"We saved the world, but what's the point? Grunkle Stan's not himself anymore."

Guilt. Confusion. Black, now. Black confusion.

"Don't you remember anything?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know what this is or who you are."

Stanley didn't want to sit up. He lay on his back in bed, eyes closed. His body ached, his mind ached, his soul ached. Ford claimed that Stanley was still himself, and Stanley felt like himself, but who was "himself" when he didn't have any memories?

"Stanley. That's your name. The kid's call you Grunkle Stan. You may not remember, but does it feel right to you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it feels right. And who are you?"

"I'm—" A pause to take a shuddering breath. "I'm Ford. Stanford. I'm your twin brother."

A walk to the bathroom, a look in the mirror. Two identical faces, so similar, and yet so different, molded by years of separate experiences.

It wasn't fair to forget your entire life but still have the effects weighing down on you. Stanley knew he was old, and it felt right, but it wasn't fair that he couldn't remember how each line and wrinkle got etched into his face.

"How did I lose my memory?"

A short laugh. "You won't believe me if I tell you."

"Hey, I may not remember my past but I'm still me. Try me."

Ford had been right. It was hard to believe.

"I sacrificed my memory to save the world?" A pause. "I was selfless enough to do that?"

It wasn't the evil-dream-demon-taking-over-the-town part that was hard to believe.

Stanley wasn't sure if it was worth losing his memory to save the world. Not that he would rather have the world destroyed than have his memory; he thought it a worthy sacrifice.

"Soos, I guess that makes you Mr. Mystery."

A sniffle. "I won't let you down, Mr. Pines!"

"Uh...Thanks."

No, losing his memory was fine, if frustrating. It was the effects on those around him that he couldn't bear. People whispering behind their hands, treating him like he had some kind of mental disease. He was still a fully functioning human being, he just couldn't...Remember anything.

And then there were those kids.

"Happy birthday, kiddos."

A small smile. "Thanks, Grunkle Stan."

Watching from behind, standing next to Ford. "I ruined their birthday, didn't I?"

Ford put a hand on his shoulder. "If you hadn't done what you did, they wouldn't have had a birthday at all."

Stanley knew the twins were heartbroken over his memory loss. Every time they gave him a sad look, every time he heard their breath catch in their throat when they talked to him, he felt another pang of guilt. Like he was being cruel by not remembering who they were.

"Well, I'm sorry," he said out loud to the ceiling, "I'm sorry I don't remember our entire summer together."

Today the twins were leaving Gravity Falls and going back home. Leaving Stanford to continue his research on how to restore Stanley's memories, Soos to run the Mystery Shack, and Stanley to...

To be Stanley. To try to figure out what being Stanley meant.

Time to sit up.

"Alright, Stan," he said to himself. "Another day, another random body pain."

A faint memory stirred in his subconscious, and he tried to grab onto it, but it slipped away. That happened a lot; it just made everything worse.

It took him longer than he wanted, but he got to his feet. He dressed in a suit, since that's all he seemed to own. He didn't mind, though; he was the one who bought them for himself, after all. He liked his taste.

As he stood in front of the mirror, his line of sight kept travelling up to the top of his head. The mussy grey hair seemed to be missing something, but Stan wasn't sure what. He wasn't really sure of anything nowadays.

He lingered in front of the mirror longer than he wanted to. Staring at his own face was uncomfortable. When he'd found himself on the forest floor a few days ago, it was like he was just waking up for the first time. Like he'd never really been alive before, or even existed. Then to be told he had, in fact, existed, and to have a grizzled old face to show it, but unable to recall any of that existence...

Stanley shook his head and left the mirror. Time to go say goodbye to those kids. Hopefully he wouldn't say anything insensitive during the farewells.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Stanford Pines growled in frustration and slammed his clipboard on the table. He was back to square one! With his journals gone, he was working solely from memory.

Ironic, if he thought about it.

Dipper and Mabel left a week ago, and Ford was surprised that his work was harder with them gone. He was able to focus more, maybe, but he'd come to rely on Mabel's spontaneous distractions and Dipper's constant questions to keep him from going crazy. After all, spending ten to twelve hours straight doing nothing but trying to get your brother's memory back took both a mental and emotional toll.

Sometimes, the constant mental exertion kept him busy enough to keep away the emotions. Other times, it was the perfect time for all the guilt and pain to come crashing down around him.

It was much easier to tell himself that the world was worth Stanley's memory when the world had actually been in danger.

Now he wasn't so sure.

Stanley didn't seem to blame him. He seemed to believe the memory loss had been his idea in the first place—which it was.

Still. Ford had pulled the trigger.

Every time he closed his eyes he could see the memory gun beeping as he input "Stanley Pines."

He could've input "Bill Cipher" and it would've had the same effect, wouldn't it? But no, he needed more nightmare fuel by putting in "Stanley Pines."

The burst of blue light coming from the memory ray had been almost a welcome site for his tired red eyes. But now, it seared across his eyelids whenever it could.

He shook his head. Back to work, Stanford.

He should go talk to McGucket. Fiddleford was the one to invent the memory device, after all. Ford wasn't exactly sure why he hadn't gone to talk to him yet. Maybe he was still feeling guilty that McGucket had gone insane, and that Ford could've stopped it.

Stanley's memory gone. Fiddleford insane. The twins heartbroken.

People's lives just came crashing down around their ears wherever Ford touched them.

Bang!

Ford jumped and spun around.

"Ford! I remember something!"

Stan raced into the lab, looking disheveled, half dressed. What time was it? Had Stan just woken up? As he thought it, Ford had to suppress a yawn.

"Ford?"

Ford blinked. "Right! What is it?"

"I-it's just a glimpse."

"Well, describe it to me!" Ford grabbed his clipboard, excited. Maybe they finally had a breakthrough.

Stan closed his eyes. "I see the ocean, turned orange by the sunset. My arm is around someone, I think you. We're small, and I'm saying something about...Travelling the world."

Ford jotted down everything Stan said, even though he could bring the memory up clearly in his mind.

"That's it," Stan said, opening his eyes. "Did that happen? Is it a real memory?"

"Yes!" Ford exclaimed. "Yes, that was when we were kids! Stanley, I think we're onto something!"

Stan's face lit up. "You really think so?"

"I do!" Maybe Stan's memory would come back on its own! Ford felt more energized than he had...in...

"Woah, there, Pointdexter." Stan's hand was suddenly on his arm. "You look like you're about to faint. How long has it been since you've slept?"

Ford waved a dismissive hand. "That doesn't matter. Did you just call me 'Pointdexter?'"

Stan shrugged. "Yeah, it just came out. Is that my nickname for you?"

"Yes, you've called me that my whole life. Do you—"

Ford stumbled again. Stan's grip on his arm tightened. "Alright, sleep time for you. No arguing."

Ford smiled faintly as Stan led him upstairs to sleep.

Maybe there was hope after all.

A/N I was going to write a third section that was really depressing, but I decided just to leave it here on a happier note.

Ford's wrong, though. There isn't much hope. Getting Stan's memory back fully would take longer than those two have left in their life span...

Anyways! Here's my Alternate Ending for @WattyFallers (or @EZ-Dayz). The moment the episode was over I was like: Stan needs to face the consequences for his sacrifice, otherwise it wasn't really a sacrifice at all. So this was born!