Archive of Our Own

Ford wasn’t used to getting random phone calls on a Tuesday afternoon.

‘Ford…Prefect?’ said the person on the other side of the phone.

‘That’s me.’

‘The casting crew have discussed at length your audition for ‘Turbulence’ last week and we decided that you’re perfect for the role! We can’t wait to see you at the first rehearsal next week on Monday.’

Ford squeezed the phone. ‘Wait, wait, wait. What role?’

‘The role that you auditioned for, sir?’

‘Oh yeah. Right. Of course!’ he forced a chuckle, ‘Excuse me for the confusion, I must be- I must be a little tired today.’

‘Can we count on you on Monday, mr. Prefect?’

‘Of course, of course.’ He could feel his hands get cold.

‘Can’t wait to work with you. The rehearsals will be held at the same place as the auditions! Oh, and I must ask, if you don’t mind, of course…’ The voice paused. ‘Is your name, well… Is it a stage name?’

‘What? No, no.’ Ford sighed, regretting his name choice for a hundredth time since he got on this stupid planet, relaxing his hands. ‘It’s real. It’s my name.’

‘Oh!’ The voice laughed awkwardly. ‘How did you parents- Actually, I’m sorry, that’s too far, ha-ha. See you on Monday!’

Ford murmured something as a reply and put the phone down, hiding his face in his hands. 

Once Ford Prefect realised that humans love to talk about their jobs and more than that they like to ask other humans what their job is, he decided that he needs an alibi if he wants to do field research for the Guide without those humans questioning what it is and then thinking he’s exaggerating the fact that it’s ‘the best-selling book of the entire Galaxy’. He noticed that for humans it’s a competition: whoever’s job sounds the coolest wins the respectable nods of the others, along with, if they feel like it, fun job questions like ‘are the hours good?’ and ‘does it pay well?’. The role of an actor seemed like one of the cooler ones to Ford, so he decided to go along with it. And besides, he used to love to take part in his school’s plays, especially because that meant he would have a good excuse to skip some classes for rehearsals and then for the performances themselves. 

What he didn’t realise, however, was that an actor is considered a cool job only if you’re famous and do movies. Ford, however, was pretending to be ‘in the middle of auditions at the moment’ to which he would get empathetic sighs and the usual ‘good luck!’s with a clear tone of concern for him ending his life unemployed and homeless forever. He decided it’s too late to change it once he gained a few friends who truly believed this story, occasionally asking him about his most recent auditions (the stories for which he would make up on the spot). What’s more, sometimes girls and guys at the bar would find his job romantic, talking about how they can’t wait to see him on stage. To that Ford would nod and get another drink.

One of those people, surprisingly enough, was Arthur Dent, a good friend of Ford’s. He would say how he would dream of being an actor as a kid, and how he wished he frequented the theatre more than he did, by which he meant he never goes to the theatre. Ford found his friend’s attitude oddly endearing. Maybe that’s what made him think he should actually try some auditions out for the fun of it, since he doesn’t have much to do anyway. Which is how Ford Prefect got the role of the main character in the play by the up and coming contemporary writer Tom Evergreen called ‘Turbulence’. And the first rehearsal was on Monday.

At a moment like this Ford suddenly started to regret his life choices, which is not a thing he finds himself doing that often.

*

Arthur Dent was enjoying a nice pint of beer at the Horse and Groom, celebrating the end of a long week, when he felt someone shaking him by the shoulders from the back.

‘Arthur! My good friend! You’re not gonna believe what happened!’

‘What, you got a job, or something?’

Ford Prefect looked at Arthur in surprise as he sat beside him at the bar stand.

‘How did you know?’

‘I didn't, you said- Ah, nevermind.’

Ford looked at him for a second, but decided to brush it off.

‘Imagine: a story about two people - ordinary people - trying to make sense of their difficult, ever-changing lives as they are accidentally forced onto an all-encompassing trip around the world together.’

‘Oh wow.’

‘Drama. Romance. Turbulence!’

‘Yeah.’ Arthur looked at his pint solemnly, spinning the beer left in it around with a slight circular movement of his wrist. ‘So what’s your role? A side character?’

‘What? No, who do you take me for? I’m the main thing!’

‘Oh wow.’ This time, the surprise was genuine. He smiled. ‘That’s big, congrats.’

‘Cheers to that!’ 

Ford called for the bartender to get them a few drinks. All on him, he said. 

Arthur’s head was spinning when he felt the nice night breeze hit his face. He realised that Ford has been trying to explain something to him for the last few minutes.

‘...And so they travel by bus the whole way from there to Italy, and they argue again, ready to- ready to strangle each other right there, you know? They think ‘yeah, this is it’. They get off in some random city, but here's the thing, when they’re there, on the beach, that’s when- that's when Matthew realises what it was-’

‘Who's Matthew?’ He squinted at Ford.

‘The guy travelling with Tracy?’

Arthur paused for a moment, pretending to try to remember that name.

‘And…Who’s Tracy, again?’

‘Have you been listening?’

Arthur paused again, pretending to think about that, too.

‘No… No, I don't think so.’

Ford shook his head and patted Arthur on the back.

‘You know what? Let's get you home.’

‘Who are they though? Your friends?’

‘Can I crash on your couch tonight?’

‘...Sure. Yeah.’

The stars were shining bright that night, thought Ford Prefect as he and Arthur Dent walked down the road. Maybe it was the strong intoxication he was experiencing, maybe it was the excitement about working on something new for the first time in what feels like forever, maybe it was simply the company of a dear friend, but at that moment Ford didn’t think to look for anything in the sky like he usually does. 

Suddenly, he felt his leg trip on the cruel, unforgiving city terrain, and he flew down to the ground, with Arthur trying his best to catch him but almost tripping over him in the process. Okay, he thought, feeling up the cold concrete ground with his face, maybe it was the strong intoxication after all. He then felt Arthur trying to pull him up, giggling. 

*

‘Arthur. I’m completely screwed.’ were Ford’s first words when his friend opened the door to greet him. ‘I’m cosmically, universally screwed.’

‘What, why? Did something happen?’

‘Nothing! Nothing happened, that’s the problem!’

He passed Arthur and dropped on the couch in the living room with an exhausted, very dramatic sigh.

‘I’ve been doing nothing to prepare for my role, and the final rehearsal is next week!’

‘What role? Do you mean that… Uh…’Ordinance’, is it?’ Arthur followed him into the room, leaning onto the door frame.

Ford got himself up on the couch and stared at Arthur for a bit, looking lost in thought.

‘...Do you mean ‘Turbulence’?’

‘Yeah,’ Arthur snapped his fingers, pointing at Ford. ‘That. I thought you were excited about it.’

‘Well, I am,’ he dropped down again. ‘But learning lines is so hard! I can’t seem to focus. Or- Or I start doing something else completely!’ He threw his hands up in distress.

Arthur scratched his head. ‘I thought your job was to learn lines.’

‘You seem to be thinking a lot of things today.’ 

Ford heard an annoyed exhale, and then footsteps approaching him. He lifted his head and continued: ‘Look, I need your help.’ He picked up his satchel from the floor where he dropped it, rustling inside of it for a bit, and then pulling out a bunch of papers clipped together. Arthur crossed his arms, giving him a rather placid look. ‘Can you act these scenes out with me?’ 

He started to regret inviting Ford in. ‘Did noone in the crew notice that you don’t know your lines?’

‘I improvise a lot, but they think I’m doing ‘a unique take on the character’, or something. They’re very weird.’

‘I’m pretty sure they just don’t want to tell you upfront.’

Ford pondered that for a second. ’Well, will you help me or not? I thought you don’t have anything to do, anyway.’

‘I never told you that.’ Arthur frowned. ‘What if I do have plans?’

‘...Do you?’

‘...I don’t. Fine.’ He practically snatched the script from Ford’s hand, dropping on the unoccupied side of the couch. ‘What scene?

The comfortable cushions on the couch and Ford’s steady mumbling were lulling Arthur into sleep. The day was slowly ending, the last of the sun's shine beaming through the windows with a bright, orange undertone to it. Arthur was brought back to reality by Ford’s loud, definitive clap. 

‘Okay. One last time, let's go!’

‘You said the same thing two hours ago…’ murmured Arthur, picking up the papers beside him once again. Nevertheless, he cleared his throat, made a deliberate pause and then began. ‘Matt, I think we’re lost.’

‘Lost?’ Ford chuckled. ‘We are not lost, Tracy. I know where I’m going.’

‘Sure, just like you did back in Sweden?’

‘What does that have to do with anything?’

‘Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that, despite insisting on your so-called street-smarts and your ‘fun demeanor, that everyone (apparently) loves’, you keep getting us into these mildly irritating and frankly increasingly dangerous situations, even though our reasoning for being here is dangerous enough.’

Ford stopped pacing around and glared back at Arthur, who was lounging on the couch, looking down at the script as he read.

‘Look- You know I’m not forcing you to be here, okay? If you hate me this much you can just go elsewhere, I won't blame you for it. I know the situation basically forced us together, but it doesn't have to be that way now.’

‘Tracy sighs, turning away from Matthew.’ narrated Arthur quietly to himself. ‘I never wanted this in the first place.’

‘Well, sorry for thinking I could help you.’

‘Tracy laughs bitterly… Help? You would have done a much better job if you just left me there. Less trouble, for both of us. Matthew approaches her.’

‘I know that he… Erm… Shit, I keep forgetting this line!’ Ford slapped himself on the forehead with the script in his hand. ‘It’s over! I’m gonna fail everybody.’ With that Ford dropped beside Arthur, throwing his hands in the air.

‘I think you were going well.’

‘I think I need a drink.’

‘Ford. You’re going to do great, I’m sure of it,’ Arthur sympathetically patted him on the shoulder.

‘Oh, don’t give me that!’

‘Give you what? I’m being genuine. Besides, I think the character fits you, in a way.’

‘I can’t tell if I should take this as a compliment or an insult.’

Arthur decided not to answer that. Ford suddenly remembered something, standing up to look for his satchel that he, at this point, kicked elsewhere, before he pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it to Arthur.

‘You’re invited, by the way. I managed to bargain out a free ticket for you, if you want to see the disaster of a premiere.’ 

‘Oh, you shouldn’t have-’

‘You’re not going?’

‘What? No, I just meant- Thanks.’ He took the ticket. ‘I’ll be there.’

In fact, the director of the play would outright refuse giving out free tickets, only giving discounts to a few of the cast members. He insisted that the tickets were cheap enough, which they were, but Ford wouldn't give up that easily, taking this up as a challenge. He decided to come up with an elaborate story that he stretched out in a span of a few weeks of the rehearsal. In it he apparently got on a date with this amazing person he would mention every once in a while before and after rehearsals, making the people around him invested as he would always come back with some news about another date they’ve been on. Until suddenly one day he had to break the bad news that this person just lost their job, barely holding up, and what’s more, they fell terribly ill! If only he could cheer them up somehow, Ford would say, they wanted to see him perform so much, he would continue, until the director caved in and made a ‘rare exception’. 

*

Arthur was surprised by the size of the theatre: it was a rather indie place, not anything grand like he would imagine when someone mentions one. There was one floor and around 40 or 50 seats, the floor above them taken up by the lights and other tech, Arthur could hear shuffled mumbling coming from up there. Half of the seats were already taken and Arthur felt out of place. Everyone around him looked quite eccentric and fun, different styles clashing together in chaotic harmony. Arthur, however, felt abnormally dull. The collar of his shirt began to scratch his neck in an irritating manner.

Ford saved a front row seat for him, at the very edge on the right. Maybe not the best spot, but Arthur wasn’t complaining. As he was waiting for the play to start, fidgeting his fingers, someone approached him.

‘Hey, you must be Ford’s date?’

Arthur didn’t process the question entirely before blurting out a yes and a handshake. He quickly regretted his habit of doing before thinking. His date?

‘We’ve heard so much about you! Oh, and I’m Danny, I play the other main role, mine and Ford’s characters are love interests-’

‘Oh yeah, I know. Nice to meet you!’ Arthur smiled politely through complete and utter confusion. Danny didn’t notice.

‘Well, I really should be getting backstage, but I just wanted to say that we’re all happy that you were able to make it! You must be feeling better now, right?’

‘Sure, sure,’ he really wished he could understand what’s going on.

Danny clapped her hands excitedly, nodding.

‘Great! Ford will be so thrilled to see you. There’s a back exit on the other side of the building, you can wait for him there after the play. Enjoy the show!’ And just like that she was gone. Arthur stared at the empty stage. He must have missed a memo.

He didn't have time to contemplate that situation too deeply before the play began.

It was dark and frankly cold at this point, and Arthur, shivering, was beginning to think that Ford left through the normal exit a long while ago without telling him. Luckily, a familiar figure finally stepped out of the building, waving back to the people still inside.

‘Arthur! How long have you been waiting here?’

‘Just ten minutes I think, don’t worry,’ he lied.

‘Oh, good!’ And Ford, of course, couldn’t tell. They began strolling down the road. ‘So, what did you think?’

‘I’ve read this script 10 times while rehearsing with you already.’

‘Sure, but wasn’t it great to see it come to life like that?’

‘Yeah. You did really well.’

‘You’re not being… sarcastic… are you?’

‘No, why would I?’

‘I don’t know, you tell me.’

‘Seriously, it was great. You did great.’

They walked in silence for a while. Ford felt absolutely exhausted, and yet so satisfied and frankly excited. If he wasn’t so tired he’d be jumping and cheering all around the place, rambling to Arthur about all of the small moments in the play he might have not noticed were a reference to whatnot, and generally being a nuisance. Arthur noticed his friend's upbeat mood, but, luckily for him, right now Ford could only drag his feet along and smile dumbly. 

‘That was really fun. Like, very fun. I didn’t know it could be this way.’

‘Isn’t that your job?’

‘Well, you know. Some gigs are better than others,’ he shook his hand in the air, and glanced at Arthur. ‘Anyway, I’m glad you were here for it.’

‘Of course.’ A smile creeped on Arthur’s face involuntarily, until he remembered something. ‘Oh and, uhm, I forgot to ask… What was that whole thing with the date?’

‘The what?’

‘Well, Danny… Is that her name?’

‘Yes, Danny.’

‘Danny told me that they apparently heard a lot about me? The infamous ‘Ford’s date’ that they were happy to see ‘doing better’?’

‘Oh,’ Ford snickered, ‘yeah, that. I don’t know. I just wanted to bargain out a ticket for you. I guess I thought it’d be funny to make up an elaborate story around it.’

Ford’s answer gave some context, sure, but it felt like the tip of the iceberg, and not even the entire tip, just the very outer layer of the ice and some of the snow that fell on it recently. Arthur figured, however, that it was all he would be getting out of this tonight, so he decided not to bother him that much, enjoying the joy in the air.

‘Want to crash at my place?’

‘Yes-s please.’

Why him, though? Arthur thought Ford had a lot of friends, at least from what he was telling him, and yet he is the one he wanted to see on the day of the premiere so eagerly? Arthur couldn't quite put his finger around it. Perhaps it was a thank you gift for the help with the rehearsal, or maybe he actually invited others and Arthur just didn’t know them. Hopefully he’ll get to ask him some other time.

In the meantime, Ford couldn't wait to pass out and have the best night of sleep in the last few years. 

Neither of them knew the Earth as they know it is going to be destroyed merely a few weeks later.

*

Ford Prefect stared intently into the observation monitor, as a blue-green planet grew bigger and bigger on it. He nervously flipped the American Express card in his free hand, the other hand busy with monotone tapping of his fingers against the monitor. He looked half mad, the other half – tired.

Here was Earth, in all of its revived glory. Now that he made it here he realised he didn’t really know what he was going to do, but was there ever a time when he did? Besides, now that his article on Earth is out he might as well put it to good use: maybe, Ford thought, he should close his eyes, scroll to a random page of the article and do whatever it says. He was sure Past Ford only had the brightest ideas on how to spend your quality time here. 

As he pulled out the Guide from his satchel and closed his eyes, he suddenly remembered. Arthur Dent. He ought to look for him, in case he’s here. Now that he mentioned it, where is Arthur? They went their own ways after saving the Universe, which was now, as Ford roughly estimated, a few years ago, if his sense of time can even be trusted.

He leaned over to turn down the radio, as the beeping he was listening to began to mix up with the signals from Earth, the noise irritating him. At this point the planet was covering most of the monitor, Ford could clearly make out the shapes of the continents. The clouds above them floated peacefully, swirling around together, casting shadows on the land and water beneath. The blue seas glistened against the light of the Sun, the land glistened with the light of millions of man-made machines and their other creations. Earth looked blissful and completely unaware of its destruction, just like it did the last time he saw it right before it exploded in front of his and Arthur’s eyes.

Ford never really thought that much about why exactly he took Arthur with him. On the night his Sub-Etha started blinking for the first time in 15 years he was coming back from a successful wrap of the ‘Turbulence’ run, as the closing night went as smoothly as expected. At first he didn’t even think it was real, he figured he was seeing things from exhaustion, and yet: he looked at it, he rubbed his eyes, he looked again. Still blinking. The reality of what he was seeing woke him up, he thought he was seeing more colours than usual. Ford hurried back home, glancing up at the sky anxiously, and the only thought running through his mind was ‘I have to tell Arthur Dent about this’.

It was hard for Ford to pinpoint why exactly he felt the need to seek out Arthur’s company, or why out of millions of people on Earth, he had to save this specific, often very placid, british man. It’s not that they were best buddies, on the contrary, Ford often felt that Arthur couldn’t stand him, and sometimes Ford couldn’t stand him either, annoyed by his overusage of so-called ‘sarcasm’ humans seem to love so much, for example. The tensions between them rose especially after that eventful Thursday – Ford used to deem Arthur ungrateful for being saved from utter demolition, although now in retrospect he began to understand him. Imagine being a small little creature, a bug of some sorts, living your life peacefully in your nice little world, until all of the sudden some something forcibly pulls you out of it and shows you that your world, full of grass and flowers (because you’re a bug of some sort) was in fact only the tiniest bit of a gigantic, absolutely enormous field of nature, with other bugs of all kinds of sorts living their lives on other weird pieces of grass and flowers, and what’s more, your own beloved pieces of grass were now gone, burned away even! That bug’s entire world view was shattered, can you really blame him for acting strangely about this information? 

Ford was glad he wasn’t a bug right now. He glanced at another monitor, which was scanning the land beneath him. Its shape resembled Britain. Sure, he thought, might as well. He skimmed through some of the buttons on the control pad, preparing the ship to land.

And besides, he did genuinely enjoy Arthur’s company most of the time. He would always bring a sense of odd stability into Ford’s life: no matter what was happening he could bring Arthur along with him, even if Arthur himself didn’t really want to be there. When he did, however, that’s when it felt especially right, like stars aligning. It’s a weird feeling, now that Ford is thinking about it. Some of the rare times when he wasn’t entirely miserable about being stuck on such a dull planet, were actually spent with Arthur. Strange. Has he ever felt like this with his other drinking buddies and random acquaintances?

The last few years felt like a complete blur, countless planets, bars, other sketchy looking places with even sketchier looking people were smushing in his head together into one incoherent mess, with nothing of particular interest to focus on. As fun as it has been to finally relax and shut his brain off after a stressful period of life full of talking mice, prehistoric planets and cricket games, he suddenly began to realise how empty the fun he’s been having lately actually felt. It never mattered to him before, why should it matter now? Perhaps, he thought, something unnatural was happening to him: he missed stability.

He noticed a crowd of people forming beneath the ship. Oh zark, he forgot how much humans love unusual flying objects. As long as they don’t decide to steal the ship he’ll probably be fine. He just needs to find his friend, that can’t be that hard, right?

Oh and, how could he forget! He has a whole lot of human-made movies to rewatch. What if they made new ones, too? Actually, the movies felt more important. He should visit a video rental first. Then he can look for Arthur. Actually, no. He also needs a drink. Maybe even a few. After that – Arthur Dent.

*

‘What maniac came up with that? Do you guys really think this is what us other folk are like?’

Arthur laughed a genuine laugh as Ford and he sat in front of a small screen that was showing them ‘The Alien’ (1979), countless tapes Ford stole from Earth laying around them on the floor of the ship. He was surprised to find a movie that neither of them actually watched before.

‘No, I'm serious! What are those stereotypes? ‘Evil, human-eating aliens’? Really? If the critics for Zoscars saw this, they would never accept any film made by humans into their awards shows ever again. Goodbye, ‘Best Intergalactic Feature Film’!’

‘I mean,’ Arthur giggled. ‘What do you expect from us? We've never seen aliens before.’

‘Yeah, well, you've met me. Am I like this?’ He pointed at the creature. 

‘Sometimes.’ 

Ford hasn't heard Arthur laugh like this in, well, forever. Hasn't seen him in forever, too. So much has changed in the last eight years, and yet this - watching some weird horror movie from Earth, floating through space somewhere - this felt the same as it used to, felt right. He thought about the times he would stay over at Arthur's place to check out a new ridiculous sitcom that has been finally released on tape, even though they both have probably seen it back when it was running on TV. Ford would always beg him to watch another episode because it has ‘the best bit’ while Arthur would complain that he has work in the morning, or they would stay up too long complaining about the showrunners ruining every character, or they would, well, laugh a lot. 

It feels weird looking back to the times before Earth’s destruction: on one hand, it was only 15 years of his life, but on the other – those were some very long 15 years. Sure, he might have been drunk for a huge part of them, and yet he, surprisingly enough, has some good memories from there, which pull on some strings hidden deep inside his heart. Ford liked humans, he actually kind of liked that naivety they had as a species which has never met ‘extraterrestrial life’ before, he found their art and cultures fascinating(even the ridiculous movie they were watching right now), and the planet they inhabited doubly so. Of course he didn’t like every human, not even close to that, but sometimes he, to his own surprise, couldn’t help but feel like he fit in there, even if he did have to hide a few things about himself, not that he minded it anyway.

‘I’m glad I’ve found you again, Arthur.’

Arthur glanced at him, surprised. ‘Wow, that’s oddly sentimental of you.’

Ford chuckled. ‘Who else could I watch this nightmare with?’

‘Ah, yes. Of course.’

Suddenly, as Ford looked at his friend, reminiscing about all of the adventures, big and small, that they've been through together, a monologue sprung into his mind. A monologue he thought he’d forget by now, but it apparently got stuck in his head, traces of it floating at the back of his mind like small annoying mosquitoes during a hike. It was a monologue he didn’t have to recite in many, many years. He remembered Matthew and Tracy, two very complicated people he used to know up close and personal. That is when everything clicked in his mind. 

He blinked.

‘Arthur,’ he even paused the insufferable ‘Alien’ for this. Silence filled the spaceship. ‘I really, really hate you sometimes.’

Arthur stared, puzzled. ‘I figured that.’

‘No, Arthur, listen! Sometimes I regret ever doing this, but then I think… I always thought love is something that is from beyond this world, that it dawns on you one day like a perfect little Cupid that shows you who you're supposed to love. And yet, I don't think I want that, I want to be here, tolerating you instead,’ Ford’s eyes were fixed on Arthur with a wide, almost shocked impression. He could feel his hands get cold the longer he spoke. ‘You are the only person I can’t seem to live without, Tracy.’

Arthur wasn’t sure how he’s supposed to process this information. ‘Who’s Tracy?’

‘Turbulence. I think I get it now.’ 

‘What exactly are we talking about, again?’ Being completely out of the loop is not anything new for Arthur, especially when talking to Ford, but right now it felt different. Ford’s expression unnerved him, but not in a usual way. 

Without saying anything else, Ford pulled Arthur in for a kiss, their lips clashing together awkwardly for a short moment. 

The stars shone through the ship’s upper windscreen, blinking. Ford felt like he just ran a marathon, as his heart was beating at a rapid pace all of the sudden. He kissed people before, in fact he kissed a lot of people before, but he has never felt like he was about to be hunted for sport after a kiss. 

Arthur sat beside him, speechless. 

‘Oh, and answering your question,’ Ford could feel a frustrating shakiness in his own voice. ‘It’s that play I was taking part in on Earth, not long before it got destroyed, if you remember that.’

All Arthur could do is slowly nod. 

‘I do.’ His eyes widened. ‘Oh! I can’t believe you remembered the lines from this one! I remember you could barely recite some of the scenes when you-’

Ford pulled Arthur in again, and Arthur didn’t lean away.