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Chapter Text

"What the hell were you thinking, Sixer?!"

There were times when the jokes broke away, clattered down into the dark grey waves below. When the storms brewed and the dams burst.

When the banter and jovial tones morphed into something sharp and desperate, filled with worry and fear and a myriad of other painful emotions.

Times when anger took the stage.

Of course they would have disagreements, that was to be expected. Full scale arguments ricocheting across the deck in thunder claps of biting words when things went particularly wrong. Knowing they were inevitable, didn't make them any easier to deal with, however. Fortunately, they didn't happen often, and usually the worst arguments were fuelled more by nerve wracking fear for the other than anything else. But they couldn’t go for the rest of their lives always on the same side of a debate, it just wasn't possible, try as they might to compromise where possible. They were too unique, too different, too busy being stubborn and set in their own thought processes. They saw the world through different eyes, as they should, and whilst sometimes this led to frankly astronomical feats of brilliance that they would later regale the kids with, there were other moments when they clashed as fiercely as any storm the sea tried to dash them against the rocks with.

Actually, their arguments were somehow worse than anything the sea could throw at them.

…In fact their first proper fight was the worst for Ford.

Not because it was their first, mind, not because of that nervous stomach lurching worry that things were turning south. No, that quickly became lost amidst the cacophony of other panicked voices that would soon be recognised, their ringing words crashing over and swallowing whole any wayward thoughts of their wobbly bridge of a relationship being broken once more.

No, he would take whatever the sea had to throw at them rather than ever have that happen again.

It had all started with an average adventurous morning.

At least in his eyes.

In hindsight, he had been too reckless, too ready to jump full pelt into the unknown. His enthusiasm and curiosity had gotten the better of his common sense, throwing caution to the winds and unrepentantly watching it dance across the foam.

He could see some of that now, taking a step back and watching from the sideline like his brother must have done. But even with this knowledge, he didn’t know if he would do anything differently the next time, if and when another moment presented itself. Sure, with the knowledge of where it had gotten him, if he was given the chance to go back in time to that morning, he would be more cautious, more skeptical. But if it happened again in the future? He knew the answer to that already. He just wouldn't be able to resist the siren call.

He had seen a chance to investigate and he had taken it. The whispering curiosity, his own spinning sparkling thoughts and the thirst for knowledge as always taking over his senses with little room for logic or suspicion.

Or- he had tried to take it. Stan had grown suspicious almost immediately when he found Ford with the creature on deck, having been given no warning to their uninvited guest. His gut instinct on the matter had made the decision for both of them. He had voiced his concerns as soon as the shock of seeing it had worn off but Ford had brushed the words aside with a quick flippant gesture. Stan's concerns had almost irritated him, the flare of concern and shame that the creature would be offended dampened only by the comprehension that Stan was just trying to protect them.

Not everything was untrustworthy in the sea, no matter how much Stan believed the opposite. Everything they found he gave a wary, shifty once over before he approached, fists tightening in his pockets around his knuckledusters just in case they'd be needed even against the most docile looking creatures they came across. He’d much rather doubt, be cautiously mistrustful and skeptical, and apologise later for his actions, than walk naively into a trap on the very slim chance that this time it wasn’t one.

But Ford just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t view the world that way. He had to take risks, had to take the chances.

He couldn’t miss his shot.

If he hadn’t taken his chance, they wouldn’t even be on this trip in the first place.

Stan didn’t feel the same way about the world. That was for sure.

Unfortunately for Ford, Stan was also very good at reading both people and creatures. And if he was completely honest with himself, he did know, deep down, that Stan's gut feeling was usually something to be listened to, and if the creature really was docile, he would relax within a few moments and leave Ford to it or come over to join in on the research if the creature piqued his interest enough as well.

...This was not one of those times.

He had abruptly dragged Ford away from the enthralling creature, getting only a disconcerted and frustrated sound for his efforts. The sound died fairly rapidly, caught somewhere before Ford could actually get any reproachful words out. The creature's seemingly well-tempered nature had shifted almost imperceptibly and Stan had heeded the warning, locking on to the subtle body language that something was not as it should be. And not a moment too soon, a sharp glittering rain of needled darts falling where they had both been standing only seconds before, peppering the wood with enough force to stand upright.

Ford didn't even have chance to take a breath before Stan had left his side again, landing a solid punch on the creature, raring and ready to follow up the motion with his own rain of blows in return to its attack. It took that moment before the second blow hit, to finally break away from the boat and slipped back into the sea from whence it came. Stan watched it go, lip curling viciously, snarling all the while, as if daring it to come back for another round in the ring with him.

Suffice to say, it did not return.

And when he was sure that it had received the message, he turned that anger on Ford.

Ford froze, still half sprawled across the deck where Stan had dropped him, as granite cold eyes locked onto him, pinning him to the floor with their intensity. He felt like a deer in headlights as Stan turned to him, face filled with a ferocity he'd never expected to see directed at himself.

"Well? Were you even thinking?" Stan scoffed at his own words as Ford continued to stare up at him, mouth open, his tongue made useless from shock. "No, of course you weren't! For a genius you aren't half-" His words strangled themselves as he gestured around wildly. "Why can't you just listen, Sixer? It was so obvious that that thing couldn't be trusted but no, you know exactly what you're doing at all times, don't you? Don't need anyone's help ever, now do you?"

For some reason the words snapped him back to reality, stung more than they should have as he finally straightened and stood up, dusting himself off as he did so as nonchalantly as he could muster. "Now, come on, Stan, be reasonable."

"Reasonable? Reasonable? Kind of hard when you put your life on the line for no good reason." Stan huffed, arms crossing as he tapped his foot in agitation, short sharp bursts of pent up rage and adrenaline filled fear cracking through the deck with every footfall.

"I didn't put my life on the line, you're exaggerating." Ford rolled his eyes, sighing in exasperation as he walked over to examine one of the barbs the creature had left behind. He had barely even leaned down to pull one out of the wood when he was harshly tugged back by the collar of his coat.

"Didn't- what do think those things are, Sixer? Friendliness spikes? The way whatever it was says 'hello'?" Stan's frustration was bleeding through the words, but it was the fear gleaming in his eyes that really turned Ford's stomach and caused the stream of cold, cloying shame to slide down his spine. "Come on, bro." His words came out like a concerned parents', desperate to prove his point. "You can't just take everything at face value and blindly hope that it's safe."

The shame burned away at his words, irritated offence rising up to obliterate it as he yanked himself from his grasp. "Really? And what should I do exactly? Just stay on the boat and never do any research at all?"

Stan growled, hands flexing as he tried to figure out what to do with all the emotion threatening to bubble over, especially now Ford wasn't within shaking distance. "No, you know that's not what I meant! I- Just- you need to be more careful, Sixer!"

"What? Be like you, you mean? Never giving anything the benefit of doubt before you're suspicious of it?" Before Stan could respond, his face obviously in agreement, he shook his head vehemently. "I can't do that, Stan! I don't want to do that. There are so many wonders out there and you want me to treat them all with mistrust. Can you even imagine how many chances I'd miss doing that? All the valuable research that would be lost by taking a step back?" Ford head continued to shake as he took a step back, though slower now, his gaze appraising Stan sadly, disappointment marring the words he knew in hindsight he should never have let slip out. "What happened to you, Stan? You were always up for a challenge, but now you-"

The words died almost as soon as they left his mouth, shrivelling up and falling flat in the air in front of him as he realised just what he had been saying. Stan's eyes narrowed, the fear in them sharpening back to incredulous anger and Ford couldn't help the gulp, nor the shiver that went down his spine as the tension in the air darkened tenfold. "N-now, Stan-"

"What happened to me?" Stan's voice was as cold and sharp as the North wind. Each word, hard and heavy as stones, dropped to the floor one by one to crack loudly and ricochet across the otherwise silent deck. He might as well have thrown one from the flinch that Ford gave, the rumble of thunderous rage making him instantly regret his mouth running away with him. "What happened to me? How about we talk about what happened to you?" He pointed at him, freezing him once again in place. "How about we talk about you and how that god damn thing lured you out into the water? Or how about how I lost you for thirty long years because of it, how about that?"

"Stan-"

"No? You don't want to talk about that? You don't want to talk about how that creature twisted it's way into your head and out you went in that boat of yours-" Stan's hands danced, flippant and dramatic, to the side as they mocked Ford's oblivious motions in the past. "-without a care in the world? You don't wanna talk about where that got you?"

"Hey now, that's not fair." Ford's resolve hardened, stubborn and steadfast, his own irritation brewing at the fact that he didn't really have anything to throw back at him, his mind blanking out in the face of Stan's questions. But even so in his heart he knew that there was a fundamental flaw to Stan's words, one that smothered his own quaking doubts.

"Not fair? Not fair?" Stan looked up at the sky for strength, his arms wide and open in disbelief. "I can't believe you. Not fair?" His head flopped back down to fix Ford with a bitter reproachful expression. "You know what's actually not fair? Losing you for thirty years. Me bringing it up when you're obliviously making the exact same mistakes again? I think that's damn well fair!"

"I am not making the same mistakes again!" Ford snapped back. He took vindictive pleasure in reaching down again for some of the spines, snatching them up before spinning on his heel and going towards the cabin, done with this entire exchange. "And I'll prove it! These spines were a self defence tactic in response to your actions."

"...Are you really that blind, Sixer?"

The words were quieter, more lost and vulnerable but the fire was still burning for Ford and he knew if he turned around, then that would be the end of it. He refused to turn around and give in. "No, I'm not. You're the one in the wrong here. My research is valuable! We don't get anywhere by keeping our distance and not interacting with the specimens." His hand tightened around the spines, feeling them crunch slightly at the action. "You're the one making the mistake here, Stan, not me. You can't expect me to be cautious of everything we come across."

"I can't expect you to be careful?"

Ford snorted. "This? Coming from you? Of all people?"

"God damn it, Sixer! I can't lose you again!"

The words burst out from behind a dam, laced with insidious concern and unadulterated fear that bit deep into Ford's resolve, his own sparking fire doused quickly by the wave of emotion rolling over his back.

He knew Stan's anger, his fretting and his hesitance all came from the heart, all with good intentions.

But really- what was the point in this trip if they were just going to sit quietly by the sidelines all the time?

They might as well have stayed at the lighthouse, if that was the case. Couldn't Stan see that?

Honestly, he thought they'd gotten over this hurdle before they'd even left.

"Stan, I'm going to go back to my studies now. Once you've calmed down, we can discuss this." The words came out in a disappointed sigh.

"Calmed down? No, we're talking about this now!"

"If you can't be reasonable, then there's frankly nothing to talk about."

Silence met the cold hollow remark for a few seconds, the atmosphere brewing thicker and darker with every held breath.

And then a snarl tore through it all.

"Fine, you wanna play that game? I can play that game."

Ford wasn't sure if he was relieved or nervous as he heard Stan's footsteps stomp further away, the man otherwise completely silent. Part of him was glad for the peace and quiet after the outbursts, but it was so unlike Stan to be that quiet, to give in, that it unnerved him, his gut churning that he had made a terrible mistake.

The barbed spines crunched in his hand as he worried them, dragging back his wayward thoughts. He glanced down at them with a nod, steeling himself as he ignored Stan and continued into the cabin.

He just had to prove Stan wrong and then he'd be able to argue his case.

"Why did you have to be right?"

Ford leaned back in his chair with a long suffering sigh. After running a number of tests he had determined that the barbed edge of each individual spine was covered in a viscous liquid that upon further investigation were very much venomous. This on it's own didn't give him the final conclusion but now armed with the knowledge and the other evidence he had managed to gather at the time, he was starting to suspect that even in this he didn't have a leg to stand on.

He groaned again, flopping forward to hold his head in his hands, his mind racing as he tried to piece it all together into a narrative he understood. The creature had been startled by Stan's movements, that had caused the self defence reaction. The venom on the spines was to stop them following-

But he knew that wasn't the case, deep down. He couldn't actually tell now as he cast his mind back who had moved first- the creature or Stanley. And not only that but the mannerisms, the camouflaged sea toned scales and the way it had slowly shuffled him closer and closer to the edge of the boat as if it had done the motion countless times before with curious sailors, all now pointed towards an intelligent predator instead of terrified prey.

There had been no hesitance in it's movements, no alert, nervous shifting whilst aboard the boat, nor had there been any wide eyed panic to accompany it's 'self defence' tactic.

In fact, it hadn't seemed phased by anything that had happened, not until Stan had thrown a punch at it and caught it off guard.

Only then had it deemed either of them a threat and left them alone.

Admit it, you were wrong.

Ford whined again, frustratedly into his hands. How was he meant to prove Stan wrong if he kept being so right?

He couldn't always be right about these things! He had to be able to prove to his brother that there was actually some good to come out of the sea.

He had to make him see that the world wasn't as dark as he envisioned it.

He had to prove to him- no, to himself that the world was filled with things other than the monsters. He needed Stan to be wrong, he needed to know there was something out there, breathtakingly kind and beautiful to strive to find. He needed to know that the water held glimmering specks of light that would keep him afloat, dazzling fascinating creatures that held no malice to keep him from drowning in the darkness and taking everything with him.

He needed to know that being idealistic wasn't naive.

He needed to know that the creature in the bay, and its ice cold, silent prison, had been left far behind and the rest of the world lay ahead of them, filled with wonder and excitement. Every hit from a new creature tricking him, luring him in, was another chink in the armour that said you're wrong, the world is filled with monsters. Every time it happened, he found himself losing a little bit of the spark that kept him from hesitating, losing a little bit more of the adventurous gleam that had him rushing forwards wherever the wind and waves would take him.

Left him wondering whether any of this had been a good idea.

Left him wondering whether Stan had had a point all that time ago, high up in the lighthouse, about staying safe. That maybe there was something for them both on land that would be less harsh, less perilous than this trip upon the waves.

And every time his heart ached at the thought. And what was to say the land wasn't any less treacherous?

No, this was on him. It didn't matter where they went, this would always happen. He just couldn't resist temptation, the thrill, the excitement, the thirst for knowledge.

Reckless. Useless. What will you do if Stan gets hurt because of your foolhardy nature?
You always thought it'd be the other way round. That Stan would forever get you into trouble.
But Stan grew up. When are you going to finally follow suit?

Ford shivered at the voice, the snarling, barbed, shameful tongues slashing through any arguments he tried to dredge up against the onslaught. In their wake they left behind images. Stan falling into the waves, Stan pushing him out of the way to receive the blow from a creature-

Stan riddled with barbed spines, dropping to his knees in front of him.

He should have left you in the water where you belonged. At least he'd be safe.

Ford froze at the callous whisper, so familiar and yet so alien to his thoughts. That voice had filtered through his nightmares, slipped into the crevices of his thoughts to startle him awake or to whisper from the darkness of the cabin when the world was still and silent, leaving him feeling cold and clammy, his stomach roiling nauseating as he stumbled up from his bed.

But never had the voice been so clear, the words sharp and whole and far more real than in the dead of night.

He listened intently, holding his breath and waiting patiently for that glass sharp chuckle. His eyes flickered wildly for any sign of toxic yellow glittering from the dark spaces of the room, his heart beat quickened as his eyes locked to the edge of the bed, the dark space below a gaping maw where anything could be hidden but his body refused to check, locked in place as he held on white-knuckled to the edge of his chair. He still continued to look though, still continued to listen and wait for a sign- anything that would prove that it wasn't all in his head, that his own mind wasn't playing tricks on him.

Really though he was mostly hoping that it was his own treacherous thoughts. His own vitriolic emotions twisting his words into another creatures voice to make them ten times worse, instead of the world actually having shifted back into colder, devastating waters.

Silence met him as he continued to wait. Nothing moved, nothing glinted.

Nothing.

Yet the seed of doubt had now sprouted. The crawling, shuffling panic refused to be so easily quelled beneath logic and rationale. The breath he had been holding rushed out of him in a gasp of frost, his chest heaving beneath the sudden need for air, the sound loud and ragged to his ears even as he tried to clamp a hand over his mouth to muffle it.

After all, all he'd been all day was wrong. How could he trust his own thoughts, his own senses, when earlier he couldn't even tell the difference between predator or prey?

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as his mind swirled, anxious and unrelenting. There were still no signs of danger, yet the air around him became charged with his suspicions and doubts, fizzling and sparking with even the slightest movement. His skin crawled, small whispering trails carving goosebumps into his flesh as the gloom seemed to draw inwards, the corners of his vision blurring and darkening as his breathing quickened further. He shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself and hunching over as he tried to get his breathing back on track, the noise grating painfully to his ears and he half expected to see an icy mist stutter away from him with every exhale.

It was the damnable silence that got to him though, the echoing cavernous abyss. He choked on air as the solid wave of nothingness hit him, abruptly underwater again as he gurgled and spluttered. Water encased his ears, muffling his own clattering as he forced himself away from the desk, the water obstructing his throat, the thin tinny whistling of his own constricted airway, the only thing he could focus on as the memory took over his senses.

It was too quiet, too cold, and he couldn't trust his senses when they swayed between a dreamlike vision of a boat cabin and the steady unrelenting abyss that had been his reality for so long. Couldn't trust any of it, when his vision tunnelled, everything blurring at the edges, dark spots blinking in and out of existence as if he was staring at two water stained photos.

Move. Get out. Get to the deck. The light and the heat will help. Just. Move.

The sharp crack of the chair falling to the floor brought some marginal sense back to him, eyes pulled unwittingly towards it as he took a deep lungful of air, his throat free from water once more as the brackish abyss fizzled in his peripheral instead of engulfing him entirely. He took the needed push the sound granted him, fumbling towards the door in a rush of shaking steps and throwing it open in a quick burst of adrenaline.

The light engulfed him, blinded him and suddenly he could breathe freely again as the ice thawed from his veins and reality became sharp and tangible once more.

Ford blinked rapidly, eyes watering, but he couldn't allow himself to close them for any long period of time, the darkness behind his eyelids too much to bear. He knew this wasn't the end of it, knew the insidious thoughts were buzzing away behind the stinging light, just waiting to drag him back down below the surface if he gave them chance.

Unlike his vision, his ears were still clogged with phantom water that he couldn't seem to shake away, giving every sound a muffled, ringing quality. The sea was there, he could see it, smell it but the slapping waves were nothing more than a tinny mumble to him, so close and yet so far all at once and he knew it wasn't enough to focus on. He could feel himself slipping, feel the whispers beginning to seep back through to drown him once more and there was nothing he could do-

A much louder, more commanding sound broke through the glaze in a short sharp burst of energy. It tore the stuffing from his ears as the sound continued, a piercing painful melody to drag him back to Earth with.

Or as much of a melody as the angry sound could physically muster. But as awful as Ford would normally find it, he couldn't help but think, in that moment, that it was the most perfect thing he'd ever heard.

His breaths came more easily after a moment, the tight constricting band around his chest easing as the loud ruckus ripped through the fog in his head. It cut the swirling, spiralling strands of thought into ribbons that fell away to nothingness and left his mind blissfully blank as he stumbled across the deck. The giddy hysterical notion that his body was acting like he no longer had sea legs just managed to slip past the high pitch cacophony that had made itself at home in his head as he made his way over to his brother's back, the offending harmonica tight in his hands as he blasted his anger out across the waves. He could see it in his tense shoulders, in his straight back and gritted jaw- all that fear, all that frustration billowing out of him and although a flicker of shame rooted itself inside him at the sight, it fell short of the thrum of pure boneless relief that flowed across his skin and washed away the crawling sensation that had been there before.

He blinked, and in that instant found himself abruptly beside Stan, the short trek it had taken to get to him a mystery, in the heady daze he had found himself in. He hesitated for a second at the realisation, hands gripping the railing tightly. He didn't like how bewildered and lost he felt. His skin was not his own, tingling and fizzling like something sat below the surface, every movement felt sluggish and strange, as if the route between his brain and muscles had become a winding maze without him noticing. He was trapped, both inside and outside his own head, fighting for some semblance of normality, as his thoughts refused to co-operate and let him logically think, too caught up in the nauseating sensation of just how wrong everything felt..

The sharp short whistle of the instrument in his brother's hands caught him again before the the panic could really set, dragging his focus away from the disconcerting feeling of not being there entirely.

He continued to move his hands across the metal rail, letting it soothe him, letting himself tap out a soft beat in the hopes his heart would follow suit even as he continued to listen intently. He closed his eyes for a second, basking in the warmth of the sun, the last dregs of the cold mist evaporating before he finally turned to his brother. He opened his mouth to say anything, hesitating only then when he belatedly remembered that the last time they had spoken had been in the midst of a full blown argument.

Ford didn't know what to say.

" Hey Stan, turns out you were right?"  
"Hey Stan, I know I was wrong but I can justify it-"
"Hey Stan, so- I'm sorry?"

None of them sounded quite right.

But he knew he had to start somewhere as his brother continued to stare resolutely out towards the sea, the heat of his ire practically pulsing out of him, hotter than the sun.

Ford winced but stood up straight, steeling himself up for the moment.

At least Stan's anger was warm and real and ever so loud.

As much as he didn't want Stan to be angry with him or upset in any way, shape, or form, Ford couldn't deny that his pure, unadulterated presence did wonders for the damp nothingness that had started to leach into his skull.

"Hey, Stan?"

Stan purposefully ignored him, eyes still locked on the horizon as he played his harmonica, the sound viciously loud as it echoed out across the water.

Ford gulped at the stark coldness of his response against the burning heat of his body language. The crawling itch resumed, running down his spine once more.

Maybe he should have started with the 'I'm sorry' after all.

He just knew that the next words that would come after would be 'I'm sorry, really I am, but you need to understand-'.

And from experience with not only Stan but his old friend and assistant Fiddleford, he had learnt long ago that that was a terrible way to apologise and usually ended with, at the very least, another argument if not worse.

The itch spread further, tingling into his extremities, the feeling that something was watching them both, eyes burning ice cold into the back of his skull.

"Come on, Stan."

The words came out unbidden, tumbling out as the force of his unsettled nerves set things into motion.

He needed Stan to acknowledge him, even if it was just to shout at him again. Anything to confirm that the darkness wasn't looming over him again and tugging him back down into it's gaping maw.

Anything to stop him from drowning in the depths of the panic that was ebbing and flowing through him like the tides, crashing waves hitting him from every angle as the currents of his fears tried to drag him down with them. It crept up and up, the waters rising through his windpipe, slowly pushing onward until he was sure it would soon submerge him completely, suffocate him- and there was nothing he could do, not on his own, his mind struggling against the currents fruitlessly as they dashed him against the rocks. He was captured entirely in their sway as his heartbeat pulsed in his ears, his throat constricting painfully-

The music beside him came to a sudden, sharp halt.

Ford blinked, his breath whistling out of him in a warbling hiss as he turned to his brother. He watched him inhale deeply, twisting the harmonica in his hands a few times as he gazed at the light hitting the silver surface with rapt attention. He breathed in tandem with his twin's even breaths, smiling softly as the sudden shifts in noise brought him back to reality over and over again.

And now with the harmonica away from Stan's lips, perhaps he was ready to talk to him again.

"Thanks, Stan."

Ford frowned as Stan continued his scrutiny of the instrument without so much as glancing up at his words.

There was nothing between them now, no way he couldn't have heard him through the small breeze fluttering around them.

"I- are you waiting for me to say 'sorry' because I can do that if you want-"

Stan sighed deeply, cutting him off before raising the harmonica back to his lips and starting on another tune, one more melodic and less filled with irritation but another song all the same.

And the world fell around Ford's ears, crashing into the waves below and leaving him completely hollow and weightless.

Is he- Can he not hear me?

His breathing started to quicken again as Stan turned away from him, walking across the deck as if he'd never seen him beside him. The fuzzy darkness returned at the edges of his vision, the looming cold crawling across every expanse of skin as the wind cut through him. A voice in his mind told him none of it was real, it was just a breeze, a warm one at best, and yet he couldn't stop the shivers, shuddering as it danced across his flesh over and over again.

None of it mattered, Stan hadn't heard him, Stan hadn't seen him.

You're invisible. You're just a ghost.
You're all alone again.

Well... not entirely alone.

The voice re-emerged. Sickly sweet and soothing in the worst kind of way. It set his teeth on edge, every fibre of his being telling him to flee, not to trust it, not to let it in, not to let it trick him or calm him down again. It's peace was a lie, one that stripped him of his mind, his memories- everything that made him him.

It had made him forget Stan.

The thought send another flood of panic through him, his throat constricting further and refusing to co-operate as he sunk to his knees, his hands clawing as his neck, expecting to find some kind of resistance there that was stopping him from breathing, his eyes still locked to his brother's retreating back.

A ringing started to sound through his ears, muffling Stan's tune, the real world becoming a blurring mass behind his own heavy breathing and the constant tinny ring that quickly morphed into a dark twisted chuckle.

Stan couldn't see him, couldn't hear him and the creature was back and it was going to make him forget everything again, all that they had done together in the time that he had escaped. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know why it was happening this time and he couldn't seem to get his body to respond to his own thoughts, the panic too all-consuming for him to fight through. And every layer added a new fresh wave of hysteria, his legs refusing to hold his weight, his vision fading in and out, all pointing him towards the dizzying, terrifying conclusion that his body was already lost below the waves again and he hadn't even known it.

You're not really here. He's already got you and Stan doesn't even know.
He doesn't know you need help this time.
And soon enough you're going to forget he even exists, forget he would ever come looking for you if he could.

The fear rose to a crescendo and suddenly broke the dam, the water flooding out of him along with a panicked trail of choked words as air rushed in.

"Stan! Stan, please! I'm sorry- so- sorry. Please-"

Stan was already beside him after the first 'please' but the words kept rushing out even as his brother knelt before him.

"I can't do this alone- not again- Stan, please. I'll apologise forever if you can just hear me-"

"Hey, Sixer, I'm here. I'm right here."

"I think I'm there again, I don't want to forget- please don't let it make me forget-"

"Sixer!" A large hand engulfed his shoulder, cutting his panicked thoughts and words short. The solid presence let him breathe in again, gasping for air as his eyes found Stan looming above him, eyes wide with concern and swimming with guilt though he couldn't quite fathom why. "You're not there, Sixer, I promise. I've got you, you're safe, you're right here on the Stan'O'War II just like you're meant to be." His eyes steeled into something darker, his other hand coming to cover his other shoulder, the harmonica clattering carelessly to the floor as Ford's eyes followed the movement listlessly before zoning back into Stan's eye contact, dazed and boneless, exhausted with relief. "That thing's never getting hold of you again, do you hear me? I won't let anything hurt you, Sixer."

A small traitorous voice in his head reminded him that's all he was trying to do this morning.

But in that instant the voice fell on deaf ears as Ford's shaking hands went to latch around Stan's wrists, taking so much comfort in the feel of his pulse, in the knowledge that this was real and he wasn't floating into nothingness. It took a lot of effort for the movement, his entire body feeling worn out, as if the adrenaline had left him in one fell swoop to puddle on the deck listlessly. The words slipped out again, much quieter and in a warble of pure exhausted emotion as he stared at Stan with watery eyes. "You- you can hear me."

Stan blinked at him a few times, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly before a surging stream of vehement expletives left him. He glanced up towards the sky, as if gathering his thoughts, and then back to Ford, giving his shoulders a tight squeeze, eyes once again brimming with heated frustration and behind that, a deep set self-disgust.

"Jesus, I should have realised. I am so sorry- You said to- But I still shouldn't have- I was just so-" He closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath before he opened them once more, reproach welling within them but Ford didn't know who for. "You told me to leave you alone until I could be reasonable, Poindexter. I may have taken that a bit more literally than you actually meant, it seems."

Ford stared at him owlishly, the argument from that morning slowly trickling back into his skull in drips and drabs, his mind sluggish from the upheavals that had happened since. The morning felt like it could have been a week ago, not mere hours. Until suddenly it clicked.

"If you can't be reasonable, there's nothing to talk about."

And the first thing he said to Stan as soon as he gave him a moment to was-

"I- are you waiting for me to say 'sorry' because I can do that if you want-"

It was little wonder really that Stan had irritatedly turned away from him without a word. Natural even. Stan wasn't ready to be reasonable when he thought he was in the right and Ford had shown that he hadn't actually come to see him to apologise.

It made sense, it really did.

It just hadn't at the time, with paranoia creeping up on him and the dreadful twisted thought that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't even here to begin with. He could still feel the tremors running through him at the mere suggestion, could feel Stan periodically tightening his hold in pulses to ground him in reality, his face twisting with a myriad of emotions that made it clear he regretted his actions entirely.

Stan was mad at him, of course he was, but he never wanted to hurt him.

He hadn't meant to give him the silent treatment for any other reason than the fact that Ford had actually suggested the action from the beginning.

So if he hadn't thought that through himself, how could he have expected Stan to?

"Oh."

Stan winced at the sound, flinching ever so slightly back as he waited for a more visceral response, waited for Ford to snap at him or throw a punch for scaring him like that, but Ford didn't have it in him to be angry through the relief, nor could he really blame Stan's actions. Especially not when even whilst waiting for some kind of backlash his brother was still carefully maintaining contact, his hands now running up and down Ford's arms as if to keep him warm.

"Oh."

Stan turned back to him skeptically as he continued to just make small noises of understanding, his eyebrows furrowing together as he hesitantly spoke up again. "I mean- you did tell me not to talk to you."

Ford gave a wobbly half-hearted smile as he sagged in towards Stan, letting him engulf him in a hug. "I- it appears my calculations on the matter were rather incorrect."

"Yeah, I can see that." Stan ran a hand up and down his back, continuing the soothing pressure as Ford finally let his body relax entirely, his eyes shutting as another shuddering breath tore through him and left him wearier but far more reassured than before.

There was something nagging him though, a small snippet of a voice that told him he should make things better before he fell asleep.

"Hey, Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"You were right, that creature wasn't acting in self-defence."

"Self-de- you really thought it might be- damn it, Sixer." Stan sighed, a long deep suffering sound that made Ford wince.

"I just- I wanted to prove to you that some things aren't as bad as you think they are."

Stan sighed again, more of a disappointed understanding groan, but gripped him tighter at the same time. "I know. I know that you can't help it and you want to see the good in the world but it just- it terrifies me, Sixer, how easily you'd walk into danger."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I know. I'm just scared one day I won't be able to help you."

Ford gave a dark hollow laugh that had Stan clutching him tighter. "I- I think I learnt that today."

"I wish you hadn't. I'm sorry." Stan propped his head on top of Ford's. "I- I've got to get used to you running headfirst into things. I'm not used to it being that way round. It was always me who did that, cause I could take it." He ignored the disapproving noise muffled into his coat. "But- what matters is the fact that, I'll always be here, you know? For moments like this morning when I had to drag you away from that- whatever it was-" He again ignored the muffled response that said Ford had decided to try and educate him on the matter. "No matter how angry I am at you, or how much you tell me not to get involved. I'm always going to be there, right beside you to pull you out of harms way, OK?"

Ford nodded against him, hands pushing him away so that he could lean beside him instead, resting his head on his shoulder as Stan shifted to give him a one armed hug, the pair of them staring out to sea. "Yeah." He gave another shuddering breath, relaxing into the hug. "Yeah, OK."

There was quiet for a while after that, though a much more peaceful lull than the one before, the pair of them basking in the warm presence of an argument finally breaking like a storm and leaving them back on familiar ground. Or more of a semi-quiet, punctuated by soft hums, questioning and concerned, and steady movements as Stan kept checking up on Ford and on making sure he knew he was right there beside him. Not that it was strictly necessary, the constant pressure of his arm around him was doing wonders for that sentiment.

Ford wasn't complaining though, warmed by the comforting gestures.

And then Stan gave a soft chuckle, a vibration of strange amusement that rattled Ford where he sat.

Ford's eyebrows furrowed, though his mouth twitched upwards slightly at the change in atmosphere as he shuffled to look up at Stan curiously, nudging him when he didn't get the hint.

"Sorry, just-" Stan looked down at him, a mischievous grin on his face. "Guess you'll have to deal with all my complaining from now on, won't you?" He prodded Ford in the side, tickling him slightly and making him squirm. "No running away from an argument next time, we're gonna have to talk it through like adults."

"You?" Ford swiped at his hands half-heartedly, smiling himself as he raised an eyebrow. "An adult?"

"...Fair. But if you think I'm letting you out of my sight next time, you've got another thing coming."

Ford gave a relieved sound, one that sobered the moment slightly as the mischief vanished from Stan's gaze. "I'm fine with that. Absolutely fine with that." The words came out slightly more desperate than he had intended, Stan's quick nod a show of how seriously he was taking it, even if he was trying to joke around the subject.

"Don't you worry bro, there won't be no more silent treatment on this boat."

"Thanks, Stan."

Stan laughed, turning round to him fully, cheeky grin back in place. "Oh, I wouldn't thank me yet. We still haven't sat down and been reasonable about what happened earlier, so how about we start with that?"

Ford gave a deep groan, rolling his eyes, though a similar smile marred his features. This really was far preferable to the gloomy fog that had engulfed him on his own, the silent, cold, darkness that his mind had presented him with when an argument loomed so heavily Stan wasn't ready to speak to him.

He would take whatever Stan could throw at him rather than ever have that happen again.

Thankfully, if Stan had anything to say about it, it never would.