A/N: Stanley makes a surprise appearance back in his brother's life during college crunch time in an attempt to work things out. To make matters worse, their mother is determined to reunite her family, and what better way to do it when they're all trapped under one roof?)

A thesis paper should be the easiest thing to write. Just pick up your pencil and write until the assignment is either complete or your roommate forces you to stop because your hand is now showing visible signs of cracking- or at least cramping. Yeah, it was that easy. Just gotta... Start writing it all down. Touch the graphite to the grounded tree pulp and... Go. That easy.

"At the very least, it SHOULD be that easy." Stanford sighed, closing his textbook.

He had been at this for almost an hour. Trying to force words onto paper but he always ended up just glaring at his blank paper in discontent. Usually, he would have been done by now and already started on his next four assignments that weren't due for months, but today he just felt odd- in the sense that he felt like the gears in his brain were clogged and refusing to move up to their usual speed.

"Should be what?" Fiddleford asked suddenly, busily working on his own project.

Ford almost jumped at the sound of his voice. His roommate was so quiet at times that sometimes he actually forgot that the man was still there. It was embarrassing to say the least, when he would talk out loud thinking that he was alone. Though, he had to say, this was his least embarrassing speel.

"This paper should be easy enough to write." Stanford reiterated quickly, holding up the empty sheet for emphasis. "But I can't seem to write a single word."

"Are you sick?" The concern was evident in his voice.

In an instance, Fiddleford ditched his pencil and homework and made an attempt to quietly inch closer to his bottle of disinfectant. Ford frowned at the action for a split second, but then shook his head.

"Perhaps," He admitted. "Do you have an aspirin over there?"

"Perhaps? And- perhaps. Let me look."

Well, the sound of rummaging on the other side of the room wasn't going to help Stanford much. Maybe now was as good a time as ever to take a break to converse further with his friend.

"Yes. A mix of a physical headache and a foreboding." A white tablet was suddenly flung at his head.

"A foreboding? Since when do ya'll ever pay attention to those?" Fiddleford asked.

"Never, but today it's distracting." Ford took the aspirin without water. He didn't have the time to get himself a glass. "Like something is about to alter my world again."

"How do you reckon?" Now his roommate looked twice as concerned.

"If I knew that, then I wouldn't be like this."

With a sigh, Stanford laid down on his side for once. Not to sleep, just to mull. As if sitting still might get the forces of the universe to come forth and say "Hey dummy, guess what!". Even if that wasn't feasible without a universal language translator and a portal to get there.

"I think you're just sick then." Fiddleford shook his head, walking over to Ford and snagging his textbook away.

This would have been around the time that Stanford would angrily snatch the book back and then proceed to fight him for the chance to overwork on his assignments. Yet another thing that was oddly different about this day.

Meanwhile:

"Ma, I just got into town- No, I haven't seen him yet!" Stanley said.

He was hanging over the side of a pay phone, trying and failing to talk to his mother (it was like he never left home). Down to his last quarter, this was his last shot at finding this damn college with help… Maybe he shouldn't have called his ma. It would have been safer if he just called random numbers and hoped one person who picked up the phone knew the location of Backupsmore. At least then he would still have his quarters instead of wasting them on continuing calls that his mother would run down while trying to catch up with him.

"Sweetheart, just be careful." She said softly. "Your brother is in a… sensitive place."

"Geez, you think?" He snapped, before quickly blushing. "I-I'm sorry, ma-"

He hated being short with her, but this was his last chance to get any information out of her and they had already been talking for two minutes now.

"Sweetheart, you're in a bad place too." He could almost hear her frown. "I wish you'd come back home. Your father is-"

Stanley's frustration with his mother shifted suddenly. Now he was remembering the OTHER reasons why he never called home. Not just because his Ma talked a mile a minute about things that weren't helpful, but it was also because he feared his father picking up the phone and making things worse on him.

"A jackass? Besides, I'm doing fine on my own." That was a lie and they both knew it.

"Very well… I'll give you the college address. Try to call me when you get there."

Half of Stan expected the quarter to run out before she had the chance to tell him where he needed to go. The other half was screaming about how he didn't bring a piece of paper with. Either way, he was finally getting somewhere and would have to remember pretty damn hard. He sucked in a breath, shifting all of his brainpower into his memory in an attempt to mentally take all this down.

"Okay, its on 12-" Son of a bitch. Looks like he was going to have to find another quarter and fast!

He never was particularly lucky, but he was always determined as hell.