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“…Stan?”
Ford stretched as he looked around the cabin, realising that he’d been so engrossed in his studies that morning that he hadn’t even noticed Stan wake up and leave his bunk. He turned around from his seat, half amused at his own antics as he noted the messy unmade bed and the haphazardly thrown items that marked Stan’s passing through the area. He knew there’d be a snarky retort when he made himself known to his brother, knew that Stan would have spoken to him at least three or four times before he left, probably even thrown in a few hand gestures to try and get a rise out of him before laughing at his futile efforts and just how absorbed his brother was in his book to not have noticed a moment of it.
Oh well, it made for a good start to the day. Plus he’d managed to read a fascinating entry on a sea creature not that far from their current position to point them towards as their next port of call once Stan had stopped mercilessly teasing him.
He groaned as he stood up, stretching once more as he made his way to the deck to find his, no doubt, indignant but chuckling brother waiting for him.
He opened the door, resigned to his fate with a small endearing smile. “Stan?”
The smile dropped slightly as he caught sight of his brother standing at the side of the boat, eyes glazed over, staring into the middle distance and hands tight to the railing. It was odd for his brother not to respond to his call, and ever stranger for him to be stood around doing nothing.
Stan was never one to stand around or sit down, always restlessly moving, always doing something with his hands to keep himself occupied. In fact the only times that Stan sat relatively still were when the niblings were video calling them, and even then Stan was hardly quiet both in sound and movement, his entire being having to tell the story where words themselves would not suffice. Always gesturing widely, always adding embellishing gestures to add that extra spark, that extra colour to the words falling from his lips.
For Stan to stand so still and quiet in the early morning sun, not even a fishing rod in hand or the radio on beside him and the hum of a tune on his lips, made a sliver of worry burrow down Ford’s spine.
Ford straightened his back, pushing the thoughts away as far as they would go before walking over to Stan with a smile plastered across his face. He slid up beside his brother and nudged his shoulder, jolting him out of whatever reverie had him quite so out of sorts. He tried not to think too hard about the way Stan flinched and stepped away from him, forcing a laugh out instead at the notion. “Wow. Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Jesus, Sixer! Give me some warning next time.”
Ford smirked as Stan rubbed at his chest, a soft reproachful glare marring his features. “I did, multiple times.”
“Oh, I must have been away with the fairies.” Stan grinned apologetically, rubbing at the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry, I was just thinking, I guess.”
Ford hummed playfully, bumping shoulders again. “What is it you always say when I say I was just thinking? ‘I’m going to need some more information than that, otherwise I’m going to worry about what you’re planning’? Or something like that?”
Stan snorted, shaking his head. “Well, thinking is a dangerous habit that I try not to do.”
“Quite. Running and jumping into things headfirst seem your general area of expertise.” Ford chuckled as Stan pushed him in indignation. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” The pair lapsed into silence for a few more moments, a quiet peaceful hush that Ford couldn’t quite let slide. His brother settled far too easily beside him, no bite back to his words, no snide comments about how he’d spent his morning, just a half glazed expression as his brother slipped back to wherever his thoughts actually lay. “So? What’s different today then? What’s got you thinking?”
“…I was remembering something, that’s all.”
Stan’s voice grew quiet, a whisper of thoughtfulness that had Ford frowning, assumptions running high that left a foreboding taste in his mouth as well as the dull thud of hope in his chest.
Ever memory was another step in the right direction but not all of them were good.
“What? A new one? You should have said! I thought we’d covered a lot of them but you know it’s great to hear when you have a new… Stan?” Ford’s frown deepened as Stan’s shoulders shook, his face hidden from view. “Oh. Oh, Stan, I’m sorry- it’s a bad one, isn’t it? I thought we’d covered…” Ford’s hands gestured wildly as Stan shook his head and rubbed at his face, finally turning to him, though now that Ford saw him he also saw there were no tears there at all.
“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. But wow, it really shows how messed up our lives got that me saying ‘I was just remembering something’ gets that kind of response instantly instead of just ‘oh? What about?’”
Ford flushed, embarrassment bubbling up thick and warm at the assumption he had made. He turned away from Stan, drawing back inwards as he opened his mouth to apologise but Stan beat him to it again.
“No, stop, Sixer. I mean- yeah, it was a new memory, but I just found it funny. So many screws loose in my head-”
“Stop that.”
“…Alright. I just meant… I dunno, I just thought it was funny. That’s all.”
Ford sighed, exasperation and endearment running through his smile in equal measures. He could see what Stan meant though, he did jump to conclusions quickly. He just wanted to make up for lost time and ground with his brother, wanted to look after him, help him. Be a brother again and let Stan do the same for him.
Even that morning, seeing his brother so quiet, the leaden pit that had opened in his stomach had probably already connected the dots poorly and speculated that Stan was so still because he was having another lost memory moment.
Still, Stan saying he had screws loose left a bitter taste in his mouth that he needed to dispel quickly. “Yeah, fair, it sums up all that we’ve been through.” Ford sighed, resting his arms on the railing to look over at his brother. “So? You gonna share the memory or not feeling it today?”
Stan rolled his eyes, leaning over the railing too, his elbow resting on it and his hand cupping his face. “Well~ I guess it’s only fair. You are in it, after all.” His expression grew hesitant then, eyes peripherally scanning Ford’s face. “It was the night after you came through the portal.”
Ford’s face soured, a pang of guilt fizzling through his chest as he looked away from Stan’s searching gaze. “I thought you’d remembered that… our fight, the conversation in front of the mirror…” He winced as he reminded himself, feeling Stan grip his shoulder reassuringly to ground him back to the present.
“Hey, yeah, I know. We don’t need to go over ground we’ve already covered. No, this was after that. A lot later…” Stan’s eyes unfocused slightly again as he thought back, his words coming out soft and quiet as if reminding himself more than Ford. “You found me, sitting at the kitchen table writing… well, just writing, I guess.”
Ford blinked, the flash of the recollection hitting him suddenly as if it was him that struggled with remembering and not Stan. He’d almost forgotten that moment. That awkward hushed conversation that left him for a loop with every turn, left him with more questions than answers and the overall feeling that there was something important that he wasn’t comprehending. He glanced over at Stan, his face guilty and apologetic and even now, he wasn’t sure why his brother was looking at him that way. “I- I remember that. You were…”
“Not in a great place?” Stan sighed, glancing out over the water again. “You weren’t really meant to see that, I thought I was alone. I was trying to get my head together, figure out what to… do, I guess.”
“You couldn’t really explain anything then to me, Stan, not that I blame you. I was hardly someone you’d want to talk to at that moment, considering… but could you explain it now?” There was something important in this moment, something that had been important then as well and if he’d really paid attention he would have noticed that his brother had been walking a tightrope, poised above a gaping maw, and his words and actions were pushing him onwards to a choice that he hadn’t even felt. Now he could feel it again, that fizzling atmosphere that he couldn’t quite grasp but this time he wanted to know, wanted to help, but there was that overlying worry that he wouldn’t be able to, that he wouldn’t know how.
Stan sighed again, a weary sad sound that had Ford itching to hug him. “I don’t know, to tell you the truth, Sixer…” He groaned, rubbing at his face. “This is hard.”
“We don’t have to-”
“No I… I think I want to, otherwise I would have brushed you off and left it at the jokes.” Stan smiled wistfully but he still refused to look over at Ford this time. “I didn’t know what to do, Sixer. Everything I had worked towards had led to that moment, to getting you back. I had no plans for the aftermath, nothing to fall back on when it was all over. Suddenly the purpose in my life had been ripped out from under me and I just- there was nothing there to take its place.” Stan’s fingers twitched as he spoke, trying to explain where the words wouldn’t. “I was terrified, and everything felt wrong. Nothing I did was right, nothing I could ever do was going to be right either. So… what was the point in trying?”
Ford felt cold, slimy and faintly sick. He hadn’t even known, not really, there’d been something there to make him worry but the extent hadn’t really settled in.
He’d been too angry, too upset. The world could have ended at any moment because of Stan’s actions and so he hadn’t even really looked, hadn’t tried to.
“Does that make sense?” Stan finally glanced at him, standing up straight as he did so, his face filled with soothing comfort. “Hey, no, don’t- this wasn’t to make you feel guilty. I didn’t understand it myself at the time, so how could you have? Nothing made sense, bro, that was the point. I was trying to find something, anything to keep me going and coming up blank. Every idea I had for the future was just coming back to me with more cons than pros, nothing felt right, I was just… floating… No, maybe drowning, sinking even, is the better word. Better off…”
“Please. Please, don’t say what I think you’re thinking, ‘cause it’s not true.”
“I… think I know that now.”
Ford gave a shaky breath, the fingers he hadn’t even known he was embedding in the wood relaxing slightly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I was thinking on those thoughts, that’s all.” Stan hummed, thoughtfully. “I’m not sure they’re better though, I was hoping you might help with that.”
“Always.” Ford turned to Stan, watching him patiently.
“I… I was thinking that if I’d… done something that night. If I’d given in and given up or whatever… then I wouldn’t have been there to help you all in Weirdmaggedon.”
“You mean save us all.”
Stan shrugged a shoulder before continuing. “Yeah, sure, that. But yeah I wouldn’t have been able to. And I wouldn’t have been there for the kids’ birthday, or to watch you all try so desperately to get my memories back... I wouldn’t have seen just how much you all cared. And now… Now I wouldn’t be able to chat to them every few days in video call… I wouldn’t be here doing what we always said we would, having the time of my life chasing after weird creatures with my favourite person at my side.” Stan smiled softly, a smile not meant for anyone bar himself and Ford’s heart ached at the expression. “I dunno, I was just thinking about how much I would have missed, that’s all and how glad I am that I didn’t... yeah, didn’t do that.”
“And how much we would have missed you.” Ford couldn’t help but pull up close to him then, bumping shoulders at the thought. “I’m glad you didn’t do that too.” The words were almost too quiet for Stan to hear, but his frown said that he had as he continued.
“I’m not saying everything is better. I’m still terrified some days, there’s still these... doubts, niggling away at the back of my head. One day you’re going to realise you’re better off without me again.” Stan spoke over Ford’s protests. “One day you’re going to remember I’m not a great person, and- I’m grateful, glad even that I’ve got this time now but… sometimes I wonder how long it will last. What I’ll do when I don’t have this anymore. Or I worry that you never really wanted this, that this was all for me. That you could be doing so much more without me hanging off of you. I worry that one day you’re all going to realise I’m just an old conman that’s been conning you all into believing I’m something I’m not.”
“Stan…”
Stan shrugged. “I’m just telling you the truth, Sixer.”
“It’s not the truth though. I wanted this, I love having you here with me. I just… wish you’d believe it.”
Stan’s face turned sad, glancing over to Ford for a moment before looking to his feet, shame bubbling up though Ford didn’t think Stan was guilty of anything other than needing help. “Some days I do, some days I don’t. Some days are just particularly hard to believe it.”
“Will you tell me when those days happen? Will you let me try and help?”
Stan paused in his remorse, turning back to Ford searchingly. “If you really want me to.”
“I really want you to.”
“…OK. Next time I have a bad day, I’ll tell you.”
Ford felt himself relax slightly, the tension in his spine slipping away with that promise. But it wasn’t enough, there was still another pressing matter. “And? How are you feeling today?”
“Better? Weird, maybe? Just different I guess. I don’t know…” Stan blinked, a stuttered broken laugh escaping him as if it suddenly all made sense. “I think that’s it actually. That night I didn’t know anything and it terrified me. I was ready to give up and stop but… I still feel the same now. I still have no idea what might happen in the future, good or bad but thinking back on the things I could have missed...” He bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth. “I mean, it feels like a good idea, what we’re doing now that is, but who knows if it’ll end in disaster like everything else I touch does…” Stan turned to Ford, his mouth twisting thoughtfully as he shook his head to stop Ford from arguing with him on that point. “Or maybe it won’t end badly, who knows? Either way… I think I’d like to see where the future takes us, instead of giving up without giving it a chance… just one day at a time, you know?”
The air left Ford’s lungs in a wobbling hiss of energy as he tugged Stan close, pressing his head against his temple and closing his eyes as the gravity of it all sunk in along with bright lightheaded relief.
“That’s all I need to hear, bro, that’s all I need.”