"Nah," Stan says, slow and relaxed, because that voice saying he's okay, Ford's voice telling Stan that he's here and that Stan is okay, it's like years of missed lullabies all at once, the cure for nights and nights and nights and days and days and days and fear and guilt and everything else, it's the cure he never thought he'd get, the one he's always been sure, never let himself think too hard but always been sure, would come out and fix everything. Ford's here. Kinda' sorta'. There's somethin' here, somethin' telling Stan's brain that the one person he's ever been able to trust is going to fix everything and Stan lets himself lean into it, wanting to resist those hands trying to pull him up just enough to stop trying to sit up at all and try to fall forward some more and maybe let his head lay on that shoulder, that shoulder that oughta' be Ford's, where it's safe. "Not fuckin' you unless I get to put a bag over your head first."
He snickers, quietly, his mush mouthed, lisping voice slipping away a little, going off on its own now that everything that really needs to be said is out, now that everything's okay so long as whatever it is runnin' through his head showing him this ain't worn off yet. "I bet that joke don't work anymore, huh? I bet you do look just like this, like you used to but more. And me, uh- I ain't a doctor but I played one on TV so trust me, I'll be fine. Always wondered if you seen any of those commercials. I hope not. You oughta' never see me like this."
"Be fine," he mumbles, his eyelids starting to dip down, all the terror and zip and go go go drained out of him because to believe that everything's gonna' be alright he's got to act like it, because if he acts like it then it is. "If they find me. It's fine. Jus', just stay, long as you can. I'll be alright."
A stray noise finds its way out, the kind of noise he realized he was makin' walking down the road and realizing he was missing one of his goddamn shoes, the whine chases its way out after the others because maybe all the fear ain't shaken out of him just yet and because Ford's here to help, he's off somewhere far away makin' his mark on the world and he's here, keeping Stan up while the couple scrapes on his butt bleed all over the concrete.
"I'll fight 'em off this time," he says, still mumbling, his voice all determination and tremble. "You know I can do it. You'll see."
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He snickers, quietly, his mush mouthed, lisping voice slipping away a little, going off on its own now that everything that really needs to be said is out, now that everything's okay so long as whatever it is runnin' through his head showing him this ain't worn off yet. "I bet that joke don't work anymore, huh? I bet you do look just like this, like you used to but more. And me, uh- I ain't a doctor but I played one on TV so trust me, I'll be fine. Always wondered if you seen any of those commercials. I hope not. You oughta' never see me like this."
"Be fine," he mumbles, his eyelids starting to dip down, all the terror and zip and go go go drained out of him because to believe that everything's gonna' be alright he's got to act like it, because if he acts like it then it is. "If they find me. It's fine. Jus', just stay, long as you can. I'll be alright."
A stray noise finds its way out, the kind of noise he realized he was makin' walking down the road and realizing he was missing one of his goddamn shoes, the whine chases its way out after the others because maybe all the fear ain't shaken out of him just yet and because Ford's here to help, he's off somewhere far away makin' his mark on the world and he's here, keeping Stan up while the couple scrapes on his butt bleed all over the concrete.
"I'll fight 'em off this time," he says, still mumbling, his voice all determination and tremble. "You know I can do it. You'll see."