A mini comic set in the good ending.
For how much I think about them, I’ve realized that I don’t actually speak much on tumblr. The good ending is inspired/set in @/domesticatedford and @/alex-the-bordercollie ‘s AU where they get “saved” and Bill is killed.
⬇️ Explanation/analysis of this comic ⬇️
I still love you
A few hours after the incident…
Ford stood in the doorway of Penelope's room, his hand resting against the frame. The light from hallway illuminated his form in the dim light of the room. His daughter was hunched on the bed, under her violet princess curtains, her single arm wrapped around her knee.
"Are you still angry, or can I come in?" Talking pulled at the bandage on his cheek. At least he hadn't needed stiches, but it would still leave a scar.
Penelope averted her gaze. "hmm-hh"
Ford sighed. Slowly, he walked to the end of her bed. The mattress dipped beneath his weight. He put his hands on his knees and turned his head to look at her.
"You know that I love you, right?"
Penelope still wasn't looking at him. "Why?" she asked.
Ford was taken aback. "Well…" he started "Because you're my daughter."
"But what if I wasn't?"
"Pen—"
"You said you loved him too."
"Penelope, that's not the same thing at all." He stared at his lap, his nails pressing into his palms. He took a deep breath.
"Why?" She shifted, now sitting with her leg over the mattress like him.
"Because—" He lifted his hands, and then let them drop back on his tighs. He really didn't want to speak about this with her. "I did love him, Penelope. But I also didn't have a choice."
"Yeah, just like you have to love me." She finally glanced at him. "Or that would make you a bad mother."
Anger flared inside him, but he quickly pushed it back down. Instead, he just looked at her sadly. Always. She was always doing this.
"I already told you I don't like it when you call me that," he said calmly.
"Hmm" the same non-answer, again.
He sighed again. "Penelope, I love you. Not because I have to, but because I want to. Yes, because you're my daughter. But also because I know that somewhere inside there's a girl who is smart, creative, and doesn't actually want to hurt people."
"…But I do want to, sometimes." her voice was tight.
"Maybe. But you don't have to." Ford stared at her. At this small, angry, miserable child he had helped create. At the daughter who had scratched his face open and couldn't say she was sorry and meant it when she said she wanted to hurt people.
"I'm not going to say it's fine," he continued. "What you did—it wasn't fine. It hurt. And I was just trying to help you."
Penelope felt very small. She hated it. She wanted to rip the feeling from inside her chest.
"I KNOW! I—I WAS ANGRY AND YOU WERE THERE AND IT JUST HAPPENED!"
"Okay. Okay. I know."
Put out the fire before it spread.
She reminded him so much of her father.
Penelope's form was trembling. Her eye was wet, but she wasn't crying. She didn't cry. Not where anyone could see.
Ford waited. He'd learned to wait.
Because he refused to fear his own daughter.
"I wanna go home." She kicked her leg against the mattress. "Daddy's gonna come for us— he has to."
Ford didn't say anything.
"Right?"
He knew the answer. There was no doubt in his mind that Bill would tear apart entire universes apart just to find them. But reality was more complicated than that.
He couldn't tell her that they couldn't go home.
He felt the urge to apologize, like he was the one in the wrong, Like this was his fault.
Old habits.
He shifted closer, carefully watching her face for any sign she wanted him to stop. She didn't move away. He reached out and placed his hand on her back, a light, careful weight.
"Papa?"
"Yes?"
"I didn't want to hurt you. Not really."
This wasn't an apology, but he'd take it.













