I'm Here
“I've got you buddy.” Ford reassured. Huffing softly as he shifted Fiddleford's weight onto one arm. “You're gonna be fine.” Fidds was in no condition to walk. Ford had carried him all the way back to the cabin.
Fiddleford yelped and whimpered fearfully when he felt Ford's other hand leave his body. Tightening his death grip around Ford's neck. “It's alright. I'm not going to drop you.” Ford reassured. He hoisted Fidds up a bit over his shoulder and did his best to unlock the door as quickly as he could. Pushing it open with his boot once he heard the click of the knob. He brought his hand to Fidd's back. Keys still hooked in his fingers as he rubbed little circles into Fidd's shirt.
“I've got you.” He breathed.
Fiddleford hugged Ford like his life depended on it. Shivering violently in his arms. His clothes torn, battered, bruised, filled with quills Ford desperately needed to remove. All of that paled in concern compared to the horrified thousand-yard stare Ford had been greeted with once the dust had settled. Fidds eyes were closed now. That seemed like an improvement. Maybe. At least Ford hoped it was.
He shuffled inside with the temporal displacement hyperdrive they needed slung over his other shoulder. The blasted thing better work. Its sudden alarm nearly got them killed. Not to mention all the supplies they lost. Left behind in the woods while Ford wrestled his friend back from that cursed beast. Oh well, what's done was done. They both made it home in one piece they got what they needed out of their expedition. A sloppy victory but a victory nonetheless.
Ford carried Fidds upstairs to his room where he had the supplies he needed to a magic cure that should hopefully work for the gremloblin venom. At least he hope so. He knew less about this creature than he’d like and didn’t yet know the full effects of its toxins.
He gingerly draped Fiddlford across the couch Ford called his bed. “Fidds, I need you to let go.” He pleaded gently as Fiddleford clawed at his shoulders. Refusing to let go of his coat.
“No, no, no, no, no-” Fiddleford kept mumbling incoherently. He opened his eyes again. Looking up at Ford with a manic pain and desperation that felt like a dagger to the heart. His eyes still glowing faintly.
“Fiddleford, please.” Ford reiterated gently. Placing a hand over one of Fidds. “I need to go get the first aid kit.” And set the drive down, and close the door.
Fiddleford was still shaking. His chest heaved as he started back at Ford. His intense gaze seemed to scan Ford's eyes for something before he finally relented. Loosening his grip on Ford's coat enough for him to escape.
Ford wasn't sure what Fiddleford was looking for but he was glad he could provide it. Whatever it was. “I'll be right back.” He promised.
He slipped the hyperdrive off his shoulder and let it thunk heavily onto the floor. Flexing his aching shoulder once the weight was off him. He’d had to swipe a bit of rope from the barn they had crashed into so he could strap the piece of machinery to himself for the walk back. All in all, he wasn’t carrying much more weight than the travel supplies they had left with but the load hit differently after the day he’d had.
“Stay right there. I’ll only be gone a second.” Ford stressed before rushing out.
Fiddleford didn’t look keen on moving anytime soon. Curling up and facing away from him. Burring his face in the back of the futon and muttering incoherently to himself. That was probably not a good sign. None of this was good.
Ford rushed downstairs to slam the door shut and lock it before hurrying to the bathroom for first aid supplies. He kept splints and plaster on hand thankfully for breaks. Fiddelford’s arm was in bad shape. It had broken in the fall and the injury had only grown more obvious on the walk home as the bruises set in. Not that it stopped Fiddelford from gripping Ford like a drowning man at sea. The strain probably hadn’t done wonderful things for his injuries.
Ford grabbed what he needed and hurried back upstairs to his room. “Alright, let’s get you fixed up.” He tried to reassure his friend. Ford placed the first aid supplies on the end table by the couch and set to work.
The room was less a bedroom and more a study. Ford didn’t care much. He didn’t mind what he slept on and when he realized he’d invited Fiddleford over and forgotten to secure a proper bed for him he simply gave his old bedroom to Fidds. He barely used it anyway and his study worked just as well. Moreover, his study was filled with all manner of artifacts and samples Ford had collected. Hopefully, something in here could treat any lingering effects of the venom.
Ford started first with removing the quills. Gently rolling Fiddleford back onto his back as he started pulling the quills out one by one. They had little hooked barbs on the end like a porcupine. Removing them made Fidds wince every time.
“Sorry, I’m sorry.” Ford kept reiterating everything Fiddleford flinched from his touch.
Fidds skin was swollen and discolored from the quills. Every one oozed a mix of blood and puss on removal that Ford drained and cleaned with alcohol wipes. He’s scrubbed his hands thoroughly in the sink but still wore gloves just to be safe. The pinky kept threatening to rip on him from having two digits squeezed into it but there wasn’t much that could be done for it. He needed disposable gloves for this. He’d have to work on making his own latex gloves in the future.
Ford breathed a sigh of relief once the final quill was removed. Fidds was still shaking but seemed a little calmer. Still covered welts from the quills. Not to mention the mass of swollen blue and purple that had spread up his right arm from the break. It wasn’t the worst break Ford had ever seen, but still a nasty one. Stanley took the prize for that one. The memory of his brother’s tiba peeking out from the mass of mangled meat that was once his leg would haunt him forever. Pa made sure to take the cost of that hospital visit out of his hide. Ford learned a lot patching up his brother after that. He didn’t need hospitals. He could handle things himself.
Ford got up to go search through his supplies. Rifling through drawers and cabinets for every healing tonic he knew of. He didn’t have anything that could mend a broken bone sadly but he did have some purifying water from a magical glave he’d found not long after his arrival in Gravity Falls. Unfortunately, the space disintegrated after he left and allegedly would only appear to a chosen few once in a lifetime. He was told this water could cure any poison though Ford had never tested it. He had a limited supply and couldn’t risk wasting it.
He heard Fiddleford whimper softly behind him and turned back to look at his friend’s pale horrified expression. He had no idea what the grembloblin venom would do to him and the welts were turning a very concerning and sickly green color. If there was ever a time to use his magic cure it was now.
“Here, here, I’m back.” Ford reassured as he returned to the couch. He knelt back down on the floor again and snapped his fingers near Fiddleford’s face to try and get his attention. Trying to get his friend to look at him and show some sign of lucid thought.
Fiddleford choked like he was trying not to cry but didn’t turn his eyes. Only screwed them shut and gripped his chest. He was sweating despite feeling cold to the touch.
“It’s ok. This should help.” Ford assured him anyway. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll get you some painkillers once we’re done.” He promised.
Seeing the extent of the wounds Ford decided the best way to apply the cure was to soak strips of gauze in it and wrap Fiddlefords arms in them. Taking great care to pace out the healing water evenly and trying not to use more than he needed. Even still it took up the whole bottle. Thankfully the green pallor seemed to subside a bit as Ford worked. The swelling reduced. That was good. At least something was going right. Fiddleford’s clammy shivering seemed to improve as well. Thank god.
“Almost done.” Ford still got no clear responses from Fiddleford but he liked to think it helped at least a little. Letting his friend know how much there was left to go.
He took great care when setting and casting Fidds broken arm. Trying his best not to cause any more pain than necessary. That said Fiddleford still seemed oddly numb to the pain. It was the only reason Ford didn’t give him the medication upfront. Fidds reactions were muted enough as is and he needed to know if he was hurting him. Pain was a useful tool for measuring the damage and identifying any less obvious wounds. Ford felt ashamed he was a little relieved to see Fidds hiss in pain as his bones were set. He didn’t like seeing him hurt but at least it was a natural reaction.
“There, there we go, we’re done.” Ford held up his empty hands to show Fidds once the cast was set. Fidds still didn’t look at him or give any indication he processed what Ford was saying. Ford desperately wanted some kind of acknowledgment from his best friend. Even if it was just to yell at him for putting Fiddlford in danger in the first place. Literally, anything would be better than this.
Still, he steadied himself and peeled off his rubber gloves. He found his hands smeared with blood. He hadn’t even noticed his own wounds until now. Ford had cut up his hands shoving through thick brambles in pursuit of the gremloblin. More than his hands. His clothes were torn and bloodstained in places. All minor injuries though. He probably has some bruises from the crash but he wasn’t too concerned with them. He was overheated and sweating through his shirt though. He chucked his coat on the side table and peeled off his sweater vest and button down. Fanning himself briefly with his undershirt to try and cool off.
“Ok, aspirin.” Ford was talking to himself at this point. He knew Fidds wasn’t listening. At least talking helped him keep his thoughts clear. Ford got up to head back down to the bathroom for aspirin and a glass of water. Fiddleford might have been a bit numb now but he would be wanting those painkillers later once the shock wore off.
Ford was about to leave when he felt a tug on his pant leg. “NO! PLEASE!”
Ford’s blood ran cold. He looked back at Fidds in stunned shock.
Fidds eyes were welling up with tears. Gripping Ford’s clothes with his good hand. “Please don’t go.” He begged. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.” There was so much pain and desperation in his voice. Ford had never heard his friend sound so broken.
His heart ached. He pointed timidly towards the door. “Asprin.” He repeatedly meekly. “I’ll be right back.”
“Please don’t leave me again.” Fiddleford choked. His voice cracking from the strain of some overwhelming fear. Something primal and beyond what Ford had ever seen.
“I-I won’t.” Ford promised. He returned to the couch and knelt down beside it. He took Fidds hands in his and tried to comfort him. “I’m not going anywhere.” He promised. He wasn’t much for comfort. He was never very good at it. Baring Stanley most people didn’t seem to take kindly to anything he had to say when tears were involved. Crying people scared him. Emotions were messy and complicated and he didn’t know what to do with them. Studying psychology could only get him so far.
Fidds was crying now. Some kind of dam had burst and he was properly crying. Gasping wheezing sobs. Dripping with saline and mucus. Redfaced as loud unflattering sounds escaped him.
Ford didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to fix this. Poison he could cure, broken bones he could set. He didn’t know how to mend a broken soul.
“It’s ok.” Ford said it though he wasn’t confident he believed it. He hoped if he said it enough he could convince the both of them it was true. Whatever this emotional outburst was it was a side effect of the gremloblin. It would pass. Fidds just needed time to rest, to recover. He’d be alright. Ford had to keep telling himself that.
Ford lifted Fidd upright on the couch and crawled into the seat beside him. Supporting his friend by his shoulders as the wailing man struggled to hold himself upright.
“I’ve got you.” Ford reassured him. “I’m here.”
Ford stretched out on the narrow futon and pulled Fidds over top of him. Letting him rest on his chest and soak his shirt in his tears. He wrapped his arms around his friend protectively. Holding him close and resting his chin atop Fidds head. “I’m here.” He repeated. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Ford took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Focusing on his heartbeat and slowing it to a crawl. He held Fidds head, gently pressing his ear to his chest. Hoping the slow thump of his heart and the even rise and fall of his breathing would help soothe Fiddleford. It was a simple animalistic strategy but it was the only thing Ford could think to do. Slowly Fiddleford’s sobs began to wane. The shaking calmed. His tense body grew limp as he was lulled to sleep.
Ford could feel the fatigue sinking into his bones as Fiddleford relaxed. He felt his own stress unwind. Felt the ache of his bruises and the sting of thorns. The rope burn on his shoulder. The cramping muscle pains of an overtaxed body. With Fiddleford sleeping on top of him it didn’t take long for Ford to follow suit.
