Disappearence (for Sarah)
In the middle of January, Ford left Boston. Before leaving he gave Sarah instructions on how to deal with Francis, as well as a decent amount of money to cover expenses as well as to make up for any loss of pay she might suffer from taking off from her job for two weeks. There really wasn't much to caring for Francis. The little man was in essence a good-natured and obedient child. All she really had to do was to keep him safe and fed, and to provide company.
Ford never said where he was going, nor did he provide any details of what he was going to be doing. But then, Sarah never asked.
Three days after Ford's departure, a letter arrived for Sarah. Written in Ford's neat and surprisingly flowing handwriting, it launched straight into things.
'Remember when you threatened to hit me and I said I would hit you back? Well, next time you see me, feel free to smack me around to your heart's content. I'm sure you'll want to.
The thing is that I'm not sure if I will be able to come back. I didn't tell you this before because I didn't want a discussion, but I don't think it'll come as much of a surprise when I tell you that I've gone after Luci. With the intel I've gotten recently and been to thick-headed to share, I'm confident that I will be able to locate her.
Ideally, I'll be back in a few days, but I must admit that I doubt it. But I am very much planning on coming back. I just have to do what I can to keep the bitch from spoiling my plans. Still, if you haven't heard from me before these two weeks that we agreed on are up, there's a definite risk that I'm dead. And yes, feel free to dig my corpse back up if you feel like you really do need to beat me up.
And yes, I'm sure that you're rolling your eyes right about now, and cursing at me for being an egotistical and over-dramatic prick. I also confess my guilt of that. And I'm sorry to say that you won't like me any better for what I'm going to tell you next. Or ask of you.
If I don't come back, I would like for you to take care of Francis. For some reason he likes and trusts you, and I guess I do too. You are the closest thing I have to a friend. How sad is that?
If you are unable of unwilling to care for him, I trust that you'll make arrangements to the best of your ability. Just, please, don't but him back in an asylum. He won't survive there.
There's one more favor I need to ask you. If things go wrong and I don't come back, I need you to contact the organization and ask them to locate me. They'll know how.
That's it, I guess. Take care.
/Ford'
The days passed, and no word from Ford. Days, a week, and finally two. And still no word. No sign of life.
Ford never said where he was going, nor did he provide any details of what he was going to be doing. But then, Sarah never asked.
Three days after Ford's departure, a letter arrived for Sarah. Written in Ford's neat and surprisingly flowing handwriting, it launched straight into things.
'Remember when you threatened to hit me and I said I would hit you back? Well, next time you see me, feel free to smack me around to your heart's content. I'm sure you'll want to.
The thing is that I'm not sure if I will be able to come back. I didn't tell you this before because I didn't want a discussion, but I don't think it'll come as much of a surprise when I tell you that I've gone after Luci. With the intel I've gotten recently and been to thick-headed to share, I'm confident that I will be able to locate her.
Ideally, I'll be back in a few days, but I must admit that I doubt it. But I am very much planning on coming back. I just have to do what I can to keep the bitch from spoiling my plans. Still, if you haven't heard from me before these two weeks that we agreed on are up, there's a definite risk that I'm dead. And yes, feel free to dig my corpse back up if you feel like you really do need to beat me up.
And yes, I'm sure that you're rolling your eyes right about now, and cursing at me for being an egotistical and over-dramatic prick. I also confess my guilt of that. And I'm sorry to say that you won't like me any better for what I'm going to tell you next. Or ask of you.
If I don't come back, I would like for you to take care of Francis. For some reason he likes and trusts you, and I guess I do too. You are the closest thing I have to a friend. How sad is that?
If you are unable of unwilling to care for him, I trust that you'll make arrangements to the best of your ability. Just, please, don't but him back in an asylum. He won't survive there.
There's one more favor I need to ask you. If things go wrong and I don't come back, I need you to contact the organization and ask them to locate me. They'll know how.
That's it, I guess. Take care.
/Ford'
The days passed, and no word from Ford. Days, a week, and finally two. And still no word. No sign of life.