Pointdexter: A Swooning Over Stan-fiction

Chapter Forty-Four: The Scar on your Face

It was hard to get used to the ship again.

Alice constantly felt like she was going to pitch over the side of the boat, the fear of being stranded in the water greater than it ever had been. It felt like she was going to slide over, even when she was secure in the center of the ship, or holding onto the rails. But she tried to help where she could, spending her time working on research or helping with simple tasks like cooking or laundry.

She liked to think that Ford and Stan were just as worried as she was because she'd find them watching her out of the corner of her eye. The cut on her face had slowly started to heal, Stan was sure that it wouldn't scar, but Ford seemed to look at it when he thought Alice wasn't looking.

"You're staring again," Alice muttered, settled in the cockpit with her sketchbook.

"I wasn't staring," Ford protested from his seat across the table, through his gaze flickered down to the cut. "I was just... Checking on your cut. Making sure it's healing properly."

Alice tipped her head, leaning on the table and pressing her lips together. He wouldn't say it, but Alice had a feeling he'd been shaken by the storm too. She'd find him awake late into the night, and she'd pretend to be asleep, while his fingers gently traced her face.

"You don't have to lie," She offered, stretching her hand across the table. He met her quickly, his fingers intertwining with hers.

"No, I suppose I don't," He admitted with a sigh, his thumb gently stroking over her knuckles.

"We can talk about it," Alice suggested, her other hand pushing her sketchbook to the side and running over the top of his hand. "If you want."

Ford looked down at their entwined hands, and Alice could almost see the thoughts swirling in his head.

"I keep seeing it," He said quietly, his voice tinged with pain. "Seeing you... Struggling in the water. The thought of losing you, it..."

He trailed off, his grip tightening on her hand. Alice nodded, closing her eyes and leaning on the table.

"I keep feeling it," She confessed, nodding lightly and letting out a sigh. "When it's quiet... I think about it and I can feel the cold again... I look out at the ocean... And I think about the darkness."

Ford shifted his chair closer to hers his free hand coming to gently cup her face.

"I'm sorry, dove," He whispered, his voice filled with remorse. "I should have been faster, I should have gotten to you sooner. I... I should have stopped you from going overboard in the first place-"

"Are you God?" Alice cut him off, her hand following his and resting over it. She leaned into his touch, the comfort of his warmth solid against her. She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze behind his crackled glasses.

Ford's hand stilled, surprise flitting across his face at the question. He stared at her for a moment, then huffed out a small laugh, the tension in his shoulder lessening slightly.

"No," He finally answered, his voice tinged with amused resignation. "No, I am decidedly not God."

"Then why do you think you could have stopped it?" She asked, her voice soft as she gently pulled his hand from her face, her fingers running over his palm. "You are not God, you can't control the weather, nor how slippery the deck gets. And you can't control the wind whipping a rope around."

"I... I know that," He admitted, his voice tinged with a trace of guilt. "I know it logically. But..."

He hesitated, his eyes flickering to the cut on her face.