Reality Is Stranger Than Fiction

In The Woods Somewhere (Hozier) (Start of Arc 3: Next Summer)

The peace did not last for very long. Thanks to sleeping on the ship, you found yourself waking up early in the morning with the sun. It also had to do with your nerves, as you hadn't seen the twins in eight months, you didn't know where Bill is, and you're anxious to check on the local anomalies.

Ford, seemed to have the same issue, as the two of you started to stir around five in the morning. You'd been awake for a good ten minutes, not wanting to leave the bed as you were content to be pressed against Ford's chest and wrapped in his arms. He let out a small grumble, curling closer to you.

"Can't sleep too...?" you tentatively check, keeping your voice soft and low.

"... it seems so," he grumbles, wrapping his arms around your tighter and pulling you closer. A little red flag goes up in your brain. On a typical day when Ford and you both wake up, you'd be out of bed in an instant to research and unpack.

"Ford...? Are you okay?" you quietly ask, tilting your head to look up at him. He tilts his head away from you, but not before you catch sight of tear tracks running down his cheeks. Your heart drops, wrapping your arms tightly around him, slowly running your hand up and down his back.

"Can we just... would it be too much to ask to stay here for a moment?"

"We can stay as long as you want." You know it's commonly said with need, rather than want, however, you knew Ford carefully analyzed your words during states of vulnerability. Saying need would prompt him to end quicker than he wanted, taking it that you were only doing it to fulfill his needs instead of putting himself first for a chance.

"Thank you," he whispers, carefully sliding his arm under your head, acting as a pseudo pillow.

"You don't have to thank me. I love you, Ford. No matter if we're sitting elbow to elbow in a lab, out in the field, or curled up in bed... and you can tell me what's wrong if you want when you're ready," you add the second part in a softer tone, trying to not feel as if you're pushing him.

"... you're far too good for me... never leave my arms," he murmurs, resting his chin atop your head.

"I won't. I promise," you assure him, still gently running your hand up and down his back. "You're far too good to lose."

You're not sure why, but that seems to break - no - shatter him. He lets out a choked sob, clutching you in his arms as tears roll down his cheeks. You quietly whisper words of assurance, letting him sob as you rub his back. Ford rarely broke, the two of you so used to hiding yourselves away, that when he did, he broke hard. Like a chapel window shattering, he crumpled.

You don't dare leave. You wouldn't want to even if he'd given you the option. You remain at his side, slowly rubbing his back and letting him cry it out. When he finally calms down, you lean over the side of the bed, taking a tissue packet from your jacket pocket and passing him a fresh one. He looks like an absolute mess; his hair matted and flat, his eyes red and puffy, and his hands trembling. Yet, you can't find it in yourself to care. He's your Ford, through thick and thin.

"Want to wash off this salt with me?" you calmly offer, measuring his reactions as he wipes his face and blows his nose.

"... elaborate?" he prompts, clearly confused by your offer.

"I mean shower. Cause we never really did that last night and we're kinda fresh off the ocean." His mouth makes a tiny 'O' shape as he nods his head slowly. You offer him a reassuring smile, standing from the bed and offering him a hand.

He takes it and you pull him to his feet, the two of you sneaking off to the bathroom at six in the morning. Hoping you wouldn't wake Stan from the sound of water and inevitable singing.