Chapter Text
Ford groaned as he came to consciousness. Everything ached, which he was getting quite used to. This was different, however. Ford forced his eyes open and went stiff, scared to move. He was standing on the snow covered roof of his cabin. By the color his fingers were turning, he had been for awhile.
Ford forced his lungs to suck in a breath of air, despite the cold feeling like knives down his throat. Cipher was toying with him. Threatening him.
But… he’d stopped. He could have kept hold until hypothermia had set in fully. He could have put Ford right on the edge, where he’d certainly fall.
He didn’t.
He left Ford safely on a dry patch of roof, waking up just before too much was done.
The message was clear, Ford was alive because Cipher allowed him to be. To make a deal and finish their work.
Why?
Why all this effort? Why the games and the notes? Why not move on to yet another human, as he had time and time again.
He needed Ford. For whatever reason, it had to be Stanford to finish this.
Ford stared down at the ground below. It had to be him.
It couldn’t happen without him.
Ford lifted a shivering, painful hand. All the marks from Cipher’s games. Cipher’s every desperate attempt to get Ford back under his thumb.
Ford looked down to the ground below him.
Well played, Cipher.
He was done playing.
Ford took a deep breath, welcoming the string of the cold air.
If he had learned anything from his temperamental family, it was that when the game gets tough, the tough get Throwing.
You can’t play a game if the board is gone.
Ford took a deep breath.
He walked across the cabin’s peak, towards the front.
Most would prepare a farewell, or give themselves a eulogy.
Perhaps think of those they were leaving behind, and wishing them well.
Ford stared over the edge of his home, down the uninterrupted height to the ground below.
Ford only thought one final comfort to himself.
I’ll see you in hell, Cipher.
Ford stepped forward, not feeling the cold stinging into his lungs, but rushing all around him.
And then he felt nothing.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” Bill raged, desperately trying to hold Ford’s mindscape together.
“Quitting.” Ford informed calmly, despite everything fracturing and crumbling around him. Memories bubbling up and replaying, only to burst away.
“YOU JUST DON’T GET IT, DO YOU?!” Bill turned to Ford, grabbing him by the throat. “YOU DON’T GET TO QUIT.”
“I just did.”
Bill’s voice went flat, no echo or effect to it. “You don’t get it, Six.” Bill’s hands shifted, gripping Ford by the face hard enough to squish his features. “You don’t GET TO DIE, UNLESS IT’S BY MY HAND.”
Ford rolled his eyes, gesturing to the crumbling mind around him. “We had a good run, my muse. My monster.”
Bill snarled, throwing Ford aside as he hijacked total control, Ford’s mind too damaged to fight back. “OHHH NO SIXER. YOU’RE GOING TO LIVE. BECAUSE. I. SAID. SO.”
Ford’s eyes cracked open. Only one was working. That was fine. Bill was used to one anyways. Bill swallowed awkwardly, recoiling at the mucus and blood mixture. Okay. So this was Bad.
That was fine.
He was used to bad.
Bill focused his energy on hijacking more than just the mind. Sending impulses to the muscles that the brain wouldn’t normally allow.
Joints creaked in distress as the body forced itself to sit up using only its knees. Wobbling, he stood, legs protesting the action.
Several fractures, at minimum. Bill guessed.
This was fine. Bill looked the form over for sources of blood. Most seemed to be from the head. This was less fine.
Bill turned off the pain receptors in the mind, taking the coat off to ball up against the blind side.
Bill made his way back inside the shack, hobbling on awkward, barely functional legs down to the lab.
He’d just patch Sixer back up and he’d be fine! It wasn’t even that far of a fall!
And then. He’d make sure Sixer knew just how LUCKY he was to have Bill taking care of him. Surely! He’d see he owed Bill after this!
Most humans regret dying! He’s probably in his mindscape right now, boo hoo-ing over his memories. He’d be thrilled for another shot at life!
And who does he owe it to? His ol’ pal Bill!
He’d come to his senses and beg for Bill’s forgiveness!
And being the generous, wondrous muse Bill is, he’d forgive him!
Ford would re-earn his spot right by Bill’s side just by finishing their portal. Bill wouldn’t even make him grovel! That’s how NICE he was being!
Bill glanced around. He’d need to wrap the broken bones tight so they’d heal. Thread for stitches probably. He could handle this. Something about fire to clean the needle? He liked fire. And a hot needle would stop the bleeding, right? That sounded right.
Bill grit the teeth as breathing became difficult. He needed to gather supplies. He couldn’t rest.
See, Stanford?? He knew his priorities!
Bill sighed in relief to finally collapse into a chair with his supplies and a mirror. He’d patch Sixer up, nurse him back to health, and they’d be back on track.
Bill grinned at his handiwork. That was one finely patched up human face if he’s ever seen one!
Now, he needed food for this fleshsack.
See how well he took care of it, Sixer?? See how GREAT he’d be at taking care of this miserable world?!
Bill forced the legs to head to the kitchen. One was wrapped tightly in bandages to try to keep it together. He didn’t understand why they still resisted. He fixed them! They’re nice and held in place!
No matter! Bill opened the fridge, trying to decide what’d be easiest to eat. Bill rolled the working eye. This fridge didn’t have much in it. Sheesh, Six! Didn’t he know he had to take care of his flesh prison??
Bill grabbed some soup that seemed to still be good. He even was polite and grabbed a spoon to eat it properly.
Bill winces as the food burnt the entire way down. That was… probably fine?? Sore throats were normal, right? He just needed to not talk, which was fine. No one here to talk to anyways.
Bill wasn’t even done with the soup when the flesh prison vomited up all his hard work!! There were colors in it he was pretty sure weren’t in the soup. That was probably less fine….
Sleep then! Humans heal when asleep. He’d put this baby down for a nap and it’d be good as new! Bill hauled the body back onto its feet and to the bedroom. He’d clean up the kitchen later.
Bill carefully changed the body into the pajamas he knew Ford preferred. How considerate!
Bill laid down in the bed, getting as comfortable as he could with all the wrappings and injuries.
Good night, Sixer!
…
Bill frowned at the silence. Playing hard to get, huh? Fine! The body needed rest anyways.
Once the mind drifted off to sleep, Bill tried to exit and check on his own world. Only to find the mindscape collapsing once more. Bill rushed back to the body, resuming his hijacking of the brain’s systems.
It was going to be a very long night.