Memories flicker to life. It's small at first, not much more than a spark, but then they catch, and he remembers. A scene, suspended in time, comes back to him: a campfire, a forest, a clear night under stars, before the gun, before the what-they-made. He'd told Stanford that then, hadn't he? They'd talked about the future, and he'd told Stanford that he wanted his inventions to improve people's lives, and that maybe one day he'd be able to afford a nice place for himself and his family. And Stanford -- Stanford had wanted to publish something, something enormous. It was going to catapult him into fame, put his name in the history books, make experts question the very way reality was understood...
He'd wanted to be there for it. For when Stanford Pines changed the world.
...with all the force of a kick to the gut, Fiddleford realizes that he misses him. He's no stranger to missing people, of course: he's missed his family for thirty years. But Fiddleford has had time to get used to missing his family; he's learned how to brush it off, how to look away, how to turn off those parts of his mind so it doesn't hurt so much. Missing his friend, though, is new, fresh in a way the loneliness he hadn't forgotten wasn't. It isn't just Stanford, either: the way Fiddleford remembers feeling, when he shared hopes and dreams with a trusted friend in a world that seemed so full of possibility, aches just as much.
There's an emptiness he hadn't realized was there until he tripped over it. It's like taking a step and finding empty air; like tearing down wallpaper and finding a six-foot hole. Before, Fiddleford had wanted to go to Stanford for answers about what he can't remember. Now, he just wants to talk.
Fiddleford stares down at the PokeGear in his hands, silent, mouth shut, looking at that last message. He really should stop here. If Team Rocket finds out he's been sending messages in code, he's going to have a hard time convincing them he's harmless. He should delete them, wipe the PokeGear, maybe even drop it into the smelting furnace by accident.]
no subject
Memories flicker to life. It's small at first, not much more than a spark, but then they catch, and he remembers. A scene, suspended in time, comes back to him: a campfire, a forest, a clear night under stars, before the gun, before the what-they-made. He'd told Stanford that then, hadn't he? They'd talked about the future, and he'd told Stanford that he wanted his inventions to improve people's lives, and that maybe one day he'd be able to afford a nice place for himself and his family. And Stanford -- Stanford had wanted to publish something, something enormous. It was going to catapult him into fame, put his name in the history books, make experts question the very way reality was understood...
He'd wanted to be there for it. For when Stanford Pines changed the world.
...with all the force of a kick to the gut, Fiddleford realizes that he misses him. He's no stranger to missing people, of course: he's missed his family for thirty years. But Fiddleford has had time to get used to missing his family; he's learned how to brush it off, how to look away, how to turn off those parts of his mind so it doesn't hurt so much. Missing his friend, though, is new, fresh in a way the loneliness he hadn't forgotten wasn't. It isn't just Stanford, either: the way Fiddleford remembers feeling, when he shared hopes and dreams with a trusted friend in a world that seemed so full of possibility, aches just as much.
There's an emptiness he hadn't realized was there until he tripped over it. It's like taking a step and finding empty air; like tearing down wallpaper and finding a six-foot hole. Before, Fiddleford had wanted to go to Stanford for answers about what he can't remember. Now, he just wants to talk.
Fiddleford stares down at the PokeGear in his hands, silent, mouth shut, looking at that last message. He really should stop here. If Team Rocket finds out he's been sending messages in code, he's going to have a hard time convincing them he's harmless. He should delete them, wipe the PokeGear, maybe even drop it into the smelting furnace by accident.]
VBD V JJVU ETKR FBPWZBNT YVRW VBD
[Just one more, then he'll put it away.]