[This is weird. Like really, really weird. Ford knows he's not special, not a hero, and his own importance is dubious at best and "the man who caused a localized apocalypse" at worst. His ego's in a good place, the right place, and Ford is comfortable with his humility.

But for some reason -- for half a lifetime of reasons -- it stings to hear Bill say it.

What on earth. No. No, this is what he wants: the days of Bill plaguing him, hanging over his head, turning the people on the ship against him before they even meet, they're over. Ford knows exactly what it is he wants, and that's for Bill to either not exist or be removed completely from the lives of the people Ford cares about.

It's a god damned shame this isn't the end of it. He can't say it's really over. If only Steve weren't a factor, then Ford could just let go, could worry about how to complete a universal signature scanner and whether Iris likes him or not and if it matters. But the Barge isn't safe. The multiverse isn't safe. This isn't personal. It isn't a game between them. It's better that way.]

...it won't make any difference. This plate isn't going anywhere. I'm not taking any chances -- you're never possessing me again.