Author Note: I got talked into uploading the final deleted scene, so everyone say "Thank You" to AO3 reviewer Silvea_Sea! This ending IS canon. I ultimately decided against posting it because I wasn't sure I liked the tone it set for the end of the story. But, I've been told it helps complete the story, so here it is. I hope you enjoy.

As the town of Gravity Falls faded from view, America let out a soft sigh and wriggled slightly in his carseat, settling in for several long hours of non-stop driving. He hated leaving. Hated that once he was back in DC it would be politics and policy and angry, frightened states yelling at him for vanishing the way he had.

But he didn't have a choice. That was just the way things were. He was a Nation and if he wasn't in Washington or working with the government his people had chosen… well, what would be the point of it all?

In many ways, he envied Stan and Ford. They were preparing to embark on the adventure of a lifetime, bound only by the bonds they chose and the rules they set.

They had a freedom he could only dream about.

And risk, he had to admit. They were old now, by human standards. Still strong but less resilient. Less capable of bouncing back from injury, stress, or strain. And after everything they'd been through over their lives, they probably had even less time than others. Or perhaps more. Humans were interesting that way.

Still.

He wanted to stay in Gravity Falls. Even if it was just for a few weeks or a few months. A century ago he could have gotten away with it but the downside to the Information Age was how much harder it was to take personal time that way.

Stan and Ford- they still had a number of issues to work through, both personal ones and the decades of pain that had kept them separated for so long. They were riding an emotional high right now. Rejoicing at Bill's defeat, reveling on being at peace with each other for the first time since they were in high school, taking comfort in the enduring affection Mabel and Dipper held for them.

That high wouldn't last. America hoped it was just level out but suspected it would be a far more dramatic crash. That was the Pines way, after all.

As he sped down the interstate, America's mind turned over the pains each twin was hiding.

There was Stan, still suffering from the weight of being cast out, unwanted and unloved by family who should have stood by him through everything, no matter how bad. The pain of endless self-flagellation, of a deep-seated belief that he deserved to suffer, to make up for Ford's lost opportunity. Stan had spent most of his life thinking himself a burden or worse, a destroyer of hopes and dreams. Forty years of self-ridicule and loneliness twisting and tearing at him, the dark emotions seeking endlessly to rip him to pieces. And all of that on top of a life scrambling and scavenging for food and medical care, for warmth and cleanliness and comfort. Stan was worn out, physically, mentally, and emotionally and so unused to having anyone want to take care of him that someone trying to do so would be a profound, unsettling shock.

Ford, by contrast, might have faced greater danger while traveling the multiverse but he'd also had opportunities for higher quality care. As a result, he was physically healthier or would be again once he'd healed from Bill's torture. The things he'd seen and done, however, were a terrible weight. His mind had been mercilessly battered by a malicious, sadistic foe and the years spent in involuntary exile had forced his psyche to change, to remap neural pathways and form new connections just so he could process the myriad different worlds and beings without completely breaking in the process. And now he was home, back in his original dimension and more lost than he even realized. He hadn't gone grocery shopping yet and been shocked by inflation. There'd been no trips to the hardware or computer store to search for components common in other dimension but not yet invented here. Everything appearing to be almost right, almost what he remembered, almost like what he'd lived for the last thirty years but just off enough to put him in fear for his own mind.

Both twins carried the scars of a harsh and unyielding childhood. They'd clung together for years, certain only that their other half truly cared and loved them. Their mother had loved them but her own self-doubt and anxiety spilled out in a knotted web of lies and half-truths that made accepting anything from her a double-edged sword. And while their father did care for them, his temper, his struggle with his own emotions and the lingering pains (physical and mental) of war and the worry and stress of raising a family - it all lashed out in angry shouts, low snarls, swinging fists, and violent outbursts. Too proud to apologize, too broken to realize how much damage he was causing.

It had all been a perfect storm to fester unhealthy bonds and an inability to communicate so bad that the final eruption had shattered the entire family.

Stan hadn't meant to break Ford's experiment and perhaps he didn't. But it broke and he couldn't bring himself to even mention the possibility, not with the fear of being left behind, the unwanted "stupid twin".

Ford had been fully justified at being angry at Stan for the accident and the failure to warn him of the potential damage. But the interruption of their father prevented that anger from being dealt with and instead it sat unresolved for years and years until it warped into something bigger and nastier.

Stan hadn't deserved to be cast as the "stupid twin". It had prevented him from forming any other kind of personal identity and ignored that he was every bit as smart as Ford - just in different ways, with different strengths.

The future outcome of the entire family sure as hell shouldn't have been placed on Ford's shoulders. It was a miracle he'd managed to shake that, to fix his eyes on the chance to do his own research and find a place where, for the first time in his life, he felt he belonged.

No, the twins were hurting in ways they didn't even realize. America knew it, saw it, felt it. Worried about what would happen as it started coming out.

With another heavy sigh, America groped at the console of his bugout car, digging for the small pad and pencil he kept there even as he continued to steer the racing vehicle. With luck, he might be able to convince California to offer them some kind of therapy. And the twins that this was a normal requirement for physicals.

His Stan and Ford were happy right now. And there was nothing America wanted more than for them to stay that way. And for once, he was actually in a position where he could do something about it.