The portal shut down with a blinding flash. Among the flickering lights and the scent of ozone, Ford stumbled out of the machine, coughing.

Stan caught him in a rough hug, patting his back hard.

—"Welcome back, Poindexter!" he said, relief clear in his voice.

The first few minutes were filled with rushed explanations, scolding, and old arguments. But then, as Ford wandered through the shack like he was seeing ghosts, Stan pulled out his phone. Glancing at Ford, he quietly made a call.

—"Hey... Yeah, he's back. You can come over," Stan said lowly, throwing his brother a mischievous look.

Ford, distracted with rearranging some papers, barely raised an eyebrow.

—"Who did you call?"

Stan just smirked.

—"You'll see."

A little while later, footsteps creaked on the porch. Ford turned—and nearly lost his balance.

There you were. Just as beautiful as he remembered. But you weren’t alone.

Two small children—a boy and a girl, nearly identical—peeked out from behind you, their eyes wide with curiosity.

Ford stared, speechless.

—"Are they...?" he stammered, glancing desperately at Stan for answers.

Stan crossed his arms, grinning.

—"Last time you saw them, they were still on the way... Meet your little geniuses, Sixer."

Ford felt his heart pounding wildly. He stepped closer, looking at you, then at the kids, his eyes wide and overwhelmed.

One of the children reached out a small hand. Ford knelt down, accepting it with trembling fingers.

Looking up at you, and then at the tiny faces before him, Ford whispered, voice cracking: "My family... They've been waiting for me all this time."

A single tear slid down his cheek as he smiled warmly and said: "I'm finally home."