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Bill sits up with a gasp, skin prickling like dozens of needles are stabbing into his flesh. He glances around realizing he’s sitting in the middle of a dark, cold void. The only light is a reflection from the glass floor that glows like coral in the dark sea.
He breathes out, puffs of air showing up in the dank surroundings.
In the distance he can see a wrecked ship and he stands up on shaky legs.
“Fordsy? Specs?” he calls out, voice echoing in the vast void.
He glances around, heading towards the ship ahead. His legs move on their own it seems, knowing where to guide him.
It’s…odd to say the least and he’s not sure he likes it.
Distantly he wonders if this is some sort of fae magic, but brushes it off.
He seems to be on Slu’s good side for the time being. He doubts this is her doing.
His hands reach out, grasping the hull of the ship. His palms glide across it, getting filled with splinters that cause sharp stings in his flesh.
That’s when he notices the writing on the wrecked ship: Stan O’ War II
For a moment he swears he stops breathing.
Is this Ford’s mindscape?
He hasn’t even been able to reach his own mindscape recently.
Are his powers coming back?
He doesn’t feel much different another than a warm feeling pulsing underneath his skin.
“I almost had it all.”
Bill freezes, his heart lurching in his chest. He turns around slowly, being met with an older Ford.
A million things run through Bill’s mind, but he can’t even move as the man approaches him until they’re chest to chest although Bill is shorter than him.
It takes a moment before a smirk slips into Bill’s face. “Hey, Fordsy. Lookin’ good as usual.”
His heart slams in his chest, but he tries his best to play it off.
He’s not worried.
This is probably just another weird dream.
He’ll be fine as long as it doesn’t end up like his last dream with Ford.
“I could’ve sailed away with Stanley. I could’ve finally made up for everything, but you took that away. All for another shot at life which you’re going to waste by bringing destruction upon this dimension.” Ford’s glasses shine and he moves forward, Bill’s shoulders arching, but he doesn’t get punched.
Instead he’s pulled into a waltz and the scenery changes to the Northwest’s ballroom, then to Ford’s old mindscape as Disco Girl plays in the background while they sing, then to the wretched place where the Shaman visited him, and finally as he’s dipped he’s standing in a flat world with flat dreams and a sky full of stars only he could ever see.
“Why did you do it?”
Ford’s voice cuts through the freezing air and Bill’s eyes widen as he sees a yellow gleam in his eyes. He’s pulled up and into the dance again, waltzing past his burning home dimension and multiple, withering corpses.
Static blood stains the ground and the world burns with blue fire.
“St-stop. I’m the dream demon! Not you- I’m in control of the mindscape!” Bill tries to push him away, but Ford turns him around to focus on the stars as they fall down like flaming comets.
The screams start to filter through the air and he involuntarily shivers.
“I said— let go!” he shoves him harder, the panic in his chest building.
He should be waking up.
Why isn’t he waking up?
Miraculously Ford does let go, the two of them standing a couple feet apart in the monsoon of collapsing stars.
“Was it worth it? Having me make that portal only for you to torture me? Was it worth it to watch me suffer and call it love? Did you ever care about me or was I just a pawn?” Ford asks, his voice echoing unnaturally and the scenery switches to the door outside the lab, bloody handprints across the steel.
“You think he’s going to stay with you once he knows the truth? You think he’ll rule beside you? This isn’t what the axolotl wanted.”
Bill’s fist close and he splutters indignantly. “That oversized newt has no idea what he’s doing! He’s just a sympathetic coward! I’m worshipped by him- by you!”
Ford smiles.
It’s a sad smile.
A pitying one.
It just makes Bill angrier and he goes to push the apparition of older Ford onto the ground and hopefully out of his mind.
“Why didn’t he get on the plane in the movie?”
Bill’s hands halt just centimeters from his chest.
“What?”
“All these films you watch and you still don’t understand. He told you the meaning. Why did he leave? Why didn’t he go back to her?”
“Because- because he loved her.”
“It’s called sacrifice. You weren’t willing to let go for me. You were my everything. Then, you ruined that, you destroyed me.” Ford’s tone turns dark and he reaches out, grabbing Bill’s chin and lifting it up to his eye level. “I spent thirty years searching for a way to stop you and I had to erase my own brother’s mind to rid myself of you, yet you haunt me. I can never escape what you did to me. Are you going to hurt him too?”
“Of course not-“
“But, won’t you? Truly it’s worth it in your mind? After all what else do you want other than complete and utter worship?”
The hand holding his chin fades away, Ford blowing away like smoke in the wind.
Bill stands there, mouth hanging open like an idiot.
He feels weak, completely useless and powerless.
His hand reaches out, feeling the last bits of his form slip through his fingers.
It’s quiet again.
So quiet and his head pounds steadily, aching painfully.
“Muse?”
Bill gasps, eyes blinking open. He’s immediately hit by several sensations: the blankets rubbing against his skin uncomfortably, the bed sunk in with his weight, Ford’s hand on his knuckles and the overwhelming heat radiating off his own body.
“What the fuck?” he sits up, head spinning almost instantly and he shivers again, this time much worse than in his dream.
“It’s okay. It was just a nightmare.” Ford reassures him, taking him by the shoulders and easing him back onto the bed. His hand cusps his forehead and Bill feels himself get even warmer, heart racing.
“Good. Your fever went down.”
“Fever?”
“Ah- you probably don’t remember much from the past few days. You’ve been running quite a high temperature and haven’t been very lucid.” Ford explains, a frown present on his face and Bill notices the dark bags under his eyes. “I’m surprised you’re so coherent right now, but relieved all the same.” he sighs, brushing back some of his hair and Bill swallows.
“Right. Thanks, Sixer.” he murmurs, head still swimming from all the sensations and his dream.
“Fiddleford should be back soon. He went to get more medicine from town.”
Bill just nods, words failing him as his mind wanders to the image of Ford fading away to nothingness.
He shouldn’t be so shaken.
Stupid human flesh bag.
He shuts his eyes as Ford runs his fingers through his hair.
This is bad.
No, this is absolutely horrible…