(Ford x Reader) Hickory Pines

CH. 26 Time's Ticking

Stanford POV

"I heard you the first time..." I snap at Bill, my patience running thin.

I press a palm to my forehead, trying to soothe the insistent ache writhing within the chambers of my skull. He's antsy...

"You need to get your friends under control." Bill scolds again, making my eyes roll.

"Fiddleford is concerned, Bill," I retort. "That's the only reason he suggested telling Y/N. Nothing happened."

Bill is quick to argue. "And how long is he willing to keep it under wraps, huh?" His voice grows louder inside my head, a heavy growl. "It's clear where his priorities lie..."

"Okay, okay—" I repeat, trying to calm the storm. "I'll talk to him. Besides, he's leaving to see Emma anyway. We have time..."

This appears to pacify Bill, granting me a moment to breathe. I sink into my lab chair, leaning back as I inhale the brief silence I've been given.

"Just let me think..."

I pluck my journal from beneath my coat and thud it against the work desk. The pages fall open to a blank canvas. I click my pen in frustration—though, the headache is finally starting to ease.

"I'm heading back tomorrow, so... what am I going to need?"

I look up toward nothing—the visage, the voice of a being who's there, but not quite.

"You'll need to bring the TMI." He looms over my shoulder. "The map, compass, water, the essentials."

He snickers to himself, whispering like I can't hear him.

"You humans are so fragile..."

I clear my throat. "No, Bill. I mean—what items do you want me to bring home?"

He snaps back, impatient. "I was getting to that."

I sense his presence pull away, like he's pacing around the space in thought.

"I suppose I'll guide you as I see fit," he finally says. "Once something appears valuable, I'll let you know. Most importantly, there's a glue inside the shuttle we'll need."

I blink in surprise. Glue?

"Building something to the caliber you're asking for is going to take more than glue..." I say slowly, testing the waters.

Bill simply hums, his presence pressing into my personal space. It's strangely... intimate.

"Thank you for the concern, Fordsy. But this isn't your stereotypical glue! I mean, it was made by aliens. Forged with the strongest adhesives in the galaxy—things like..."

He launches into a list of elements and compounds. Some I recognize from Earth. Others? I'm fairly certain he's just making them up.

"And I think Sukmaiodium is in there as well..." Bill's voice slows, drifting into something more introspective.

I chuckle—lighthearted, but distant. "You'll have to explain those later."

I pat my journal, now firmly closed.

Bill titters happily at the suggestion. "Of course! That's the dealio, isn't it?"

I just grin and nod, turning back to my work desk, drumming my fingers boredly along the wooden rim.

Once again, I open my journal. But instead of writing a list like before, I begin to jot down some important details—skimming past earlier pages that document my time in the UFO, the Security Droids, and... Fiddleford and Y/N's injuries.

I settle on another blank page.

It's strange.

Well—Bill is strange. More accurately, he's a ticking time bomb, an assistant, and a demanding boss all at once.

Naturally, he couldn't have picked a better business associate than myself. My brilliance, after all, is the perfect complement to his charity for the human race.

Everything must evolve perfectly according to plan: build the portal, receive multidimensional aid, and attain infinite knowledge—knowledge far beyond what most mortals can even begin to comprehend.

The very thought is... salivating.

I'm enthralled. I'm... terrified.

I scribble out the last word, continuing again.

For what purpose he's having me keep this ordeal secret, I am unaware.

Yet I remain certain in our prospects. It's only reasonable that he's stressed—in the same way I am. But I'd be lying if I said it wasn't... exhilarating, having the mortal ability to quell the rage of such a divine, knowledgeable creature.

So far, our progress will be succinct and angular!

I snicker to myself

No pun intended, of course.

I flip the page, the previous one now filled—ink staining what was once untouched territory.

I click the bead of my pen, a giggle slipping out, bright with excitement. Infinite knowledge... oh, to be seen for so—

The creaking of hinges shatters my creative momentum.

"Stanford?" Y/N's voice murmurs from upstairs.

Abruptly, my journal snaps shut, and I tuck it back into my coat.

They peek around the corner—just in time.

Attempting to appear casual, I lean on the desk, resting my head in my hand.

"Yes, Y/N?" I call back, my voice cracking briefly. I stiffen inwardly.

"Just letting you know that Fiddleford is all packed..." they say with a sigh, their shoulders slumping.

Under their breath, I catch them mutter, "Just as I became friends with him, too..."

"Ah..." I click my tongue. "Tell him I said farewell, will you?"

Y/N frowns, their brow lowering in disappointment. "Shouldn't you tell him yourself?"

"I have work to do... time crunch," I reply, tapping my pen absently.

Y/N shifts in place, their gaze flicking around, clearly conflicted. I can't help but feel a pang of guilt—and it only worsens.

"I made some lemonade before he leaves. Rebuilt the pillow fort, too. Would be a bad look for you not to be there."

I... feel my heart clench.

With a heavy sigh, I push myself up, though it's hard to ignore the inward sneer from Bill.

"Alright, alright, you'll pester me to take a break if I don't." I set my things down and pace toward the stairwell leading to the living area.

Slowly, Y/N begins to smile, elbowing my side.

"Good. And yes, I would have."

"We'll work on that." Bill chimes quietly.