Stan frowned. "You're alone out here. As far as I know, you got nowhere to go, else you'd have gone there already. You're cold, and hungry, and not in fighting shape." Ford threw a half-hearted glare at him. "That's not-" "Missing the point!" Stan pulled him closer, desperately. "Ford, if you send me away, you're gonna be dealing with this guy alone. And I can't let you do that." Ford tried to shove him off, twisting in his grip. "That doesn't matter!" "Yes, it does!" "Why?! The fate of the-" "Because I CARE ABOUT YOU, dammit!" OR: Ford's 72 hours are up, and a certain... "friend" is on the way. Heavily inspired by TBOB and a gazillion other "it happened different in the 80s" fics. Here's my take.
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