Sunday evening was a flurry of activity as people rushed into Gravity Rises.

A group of state troopers immediately went to the Northwest Manor to take the nineteen surviving Northwest servants into custody. There had been quite a bit of argument about those nineteen servants, since the supernatural creatures were holding prisoners who weren't under their governance captive on property that wasn't theirs. But they argued that it was too dangerous to move the servants — and because the servants had killed eleven nonhumans, and had directly aided the demon those nonhumans were responsible for, they had a right to detain them until they could be transferred to their own government.

With multiple prisoner transport vehicles and an abundance of caution, the state troopers made the transfer. The Northwest servants were packed away and driven off to rot in jail.

Throughout the rest of town, construction and utility workers spread out to repave roads, repair phone lines, and basically get the town back on the grid. They had a lot of work cut out for them, but they got started right away. The areas of town that they sectioned off to repair made it harder to move about, but that didn't stop the people who flooded in. Dipper pulled his parents and Mabel through the chaos to get to the Museum — because his parents had to meet Waddles the pig immediately.

Pacifica was in town as well, and she saw Dipper rush past. He didn't notice her. But Mabel did. And she waved. Actually waved. Pacifica, surprised, didn't have time to wave back before the Pines were gone.

"She seems to have forgiven you," Ellie said softly.

"She definitely shouldn't," Shadow Pacifica said incredulously.

Pacifica didn't say anything.

"Pacifica? Are you all right?" asked Ellie.

Were those tears in Pacifica's eyes? From a simple wave? Pacifica had been extremely emotional this last week as she'd shared everything she'd done with her grandmother, but that wasn't really an excuse. It was just a wave. Nothing to cry about.

Ellie noticed the tears. She took her granddaughter by the shoulders. "This, Pacifica," she said, "is proof that change can happen. Good change."

That statement filled Pacifica with a nameless fear. It didn't help that Shadow Pacifica immediately said, "No, it can't. You can't change, Pacifica." Maybe Pacifica couldn't change, but things were going to be changing around her. And the coming changes in Pacifica's life would be huge — and hugely scary.

"Let's keep going," Ellie said. "Okay?"

Pacifica nodded.

Grandmother and granddaughter continued down the street, dodging people as best they could, headed for Pacifica's house. Or, Pacifica's parents' house.

Ellie didn't talk, which Pacifica was fine with. She was having a heated conversation with her shade, anyway.

"They'll hate you," Shadow Pacifica said confidently. "They'll take one look at you and hate you. As they should."

They don't remember me, Pacifica silently replied. They can't hate someone they don't know.

"Well, maybe that's worse. There's no way you can face their blank looks. You're too weak."

That. . . was probably true. Pacifica didn't care about her parents nearly as much as a daughter should. She'd even been glad to be rid of them, back when she'd seen them as wanting to control her. And now she had to face them again. As much as she told herself she didn't care, would she really be able to handle looking at parents who didn't remember her?

At least Grandmother will be there, Pacifica told Shadow Pacifica. At least she'll talk to them.

"At least you'll have someone to hide behind, you mean," the shade said.

This conversation went on, and repeated multiple times, until Pacifica and Ellie made it to the Pleasure household. Then Pacifica's feet became strangely rooted to the driveway, and Ellie had to pull Pacifica along.

Eleanor Pleasure had a mission, and no hesitant granddaughter was going to get in the way.

She knocked firmly on the door. Pacifica wanted to hide behind her grandmother literally as well as figuratively, but she at least had the presence of mind not to do that. She stood as tall as she could and tried to take a deep breath.

The door opened.

"Mother!" Bud said in a tone that stirred surprise, dread, and resignation into one fearful soup.

"Hello, Patrick. Move aside; I'm coming in."

Bud immediately jumped out of the way, and Ellie pulled Pacifica inside. "Get the door, darling," she instructed, so Pacifica closed it behind them.

"Who's. . . who's this?" Bud asked tentatively.

Pacifica found herself looking up at her father, even though she didn't want to. His gaze really was blank. He didn't remember her. At all.

Pacifica wanted to shrink down until she could escape that gaze.

"Where's Catherine?" said Ellie. "She'll need to be here, too. We'll sit down on the couch — and you should grab chairs for yourself and Catherine, of course."

She sat down on the couch, pulled Pacifica down next to her, and waited for her son to get his wife.

Bud froze for a moment, but then snapped into obedience mode — a necessary mode when dealing with Ellie. He brought two chairs from the kitchen into the living room, then disappeared to find Catherine.

"Are you going to try to make them remember me?" Pacifica asked quietly while he was gone.

"The memories are gone, so that would be futile," Ellie replied. "Remember what I said? I'm here to get legal custody of you. Or at least start the process. That way, I can get you the help you need."

The help you need.

As in, the hospital for crazy people.

That's where Ellie wanted to send Pacifica.

"You need it," Shadow Pacifica said, for probably the four hundredth time. "You are a crazy person."

Pacifica rolled her eyes. If the doctors help me, they'll make you disappear, remember?

"Yes, they will. Making me disappear will make you less of a crazy person. You need to be able to realize you're doing stupid things long before I have to come out and tell you about it."

"This is good," Ellie said. "I promise."

Pacifica believed her grandmother, but she was still scared.

Bud returned, with Catherine on his arm. He helped her sit in one of the chairs (not because she really needed the help, but probably to prove to his mother that he could be a gentleman), then sat himself.

"Hello, Catherine," Ellie said, smiling at her daughter-in-law.

"Hello," Catherine said happily.

Then Catherine saw Pacifica. "Oh! Hello."

Pacifica blinked. Did Catherine recognize. . . ?

No. Of course not. It didn't mean anything. Catherine got excited when meeting new people, so she was just saying hello to this stranger in her home.

"Is there something you need, Mother?" asked Bud.

"Yes. Yes, there is. Something very big."

"Oh?" Bud's voice was weak. He was probably imagining all the big things his mother might demand of him.

"Patrick, Catherine, I have someone to introduce to you," Ellie said. "This is Pacifica."

"Hello, Pacifica," Bud said slowly, confused.

"Pacifica," Catherine said, trying the name on her tongue.

"The memory gun was used on both of you," Ellie declared. "Pacifica is your daughter. My granddaughter. And you don't remember her."

Bud's eyes widened. "Daughter?" Catherine whispered.

Bud cleared his throat. "And why," he said, his voice hoarse, "would the memory gun be used on us?"

"Because Bill Cipher thought he could get from Pacifica what he never could get from you: leadership, and a spine besides. He had her taken down to the Order, and he wiped her from your mind so you wouldn't get in the way."

Bud made a noise of disbelief. "And had all her things taken away, too? All the family pictures? Everything?"

"I'm sure he had the resources to do that," Ellie said, casting a critical glance on the living room that had only a single picture of a younger Bud and Catherine smiling together. "Pacifica even had a trailer that she was staying in, and Cipher seems to have had it towed away. I'll want to find that before we go. I paid good money for it."

Bud had to blink several times and splutter a few more nonsense words before he could speak coherently. "Is she telling the truth?" he asked Pacifica. "Are you our daughter?"

Pacifica couldn't meet his eyes. "Yes," she whispered.

"She needs a place to stay, and medical treatment," Ellie says. "Since you don't remember her, you can't very well give her what she needs. So she will be coming with me, back to Portland."

Pacifica looked up just in time to see the naked relief on Bud's face. It stole the air from her lungs. He was happy not to have to deal with the daughter he didn't remember.

"Of course he is," said Shadow Pacifica. "You're a lot for anyone to handle, much less a parent who doesn't remember you."

"Thank you," Ellie said tightly to Bud, "for showing me that you're perfectly happy to put Pacifica in my care. We'll need to make it legally official, however."

Bud's relief immediately turned to shame. "Right. Yes."

"Pacifica," Catherine said quietly.

"Yes, it's a beautiful name, isn't it?" said Ellie. Her tone noticeably changed when talking to Catherine rather than Bud. "You and I picked it out together."

"I have a daughter," Catherine said. She smiled at Pacifica.

Some of Pacifica's breath returned. Even without her memory, Catherine was still being kind.

"She's nice to everyone," said Shadow Pacifica. "Don't read into it."

That doesn't mean it's not helpful, Pacifica thought.

"Lincoln's funeral is tomorrow," Ellie said, "and Pacifica and I are leaving a few days after that. All you have to do is verbally tell me I can take Pacifica with me, and then call me once you have phone service again so we can get started on the custody transfer. Will you do that?"

"Y-yes," Bud said. "She can go with you."

"Catherine," Ellie said, "Pacifica needs to come live with me, even though she's your daughter. Is that all right with you?"

Catherine thought about this. "Can I visit her?"

"Yes," Pacifica blurted, before Ellie could say anything. "I mean. . . can she?"

"Of course you can," Ellie said to Catherine. "So she can come with me?"

"Yes," Catherine said.

"Excellent. That's all I needed from you." Ellie stood. Pacifica hurried to stand as well.

"Do you, um, need dinner?" Bud asked.

Bud's cooking was pretty good, but Pacifica hadn't missed it. She'd had Lincoln's cooking, after all. But she didn't say so.

"I was planning on taking Pacifica out to eat, so no," Ellie said. "Unless you would really like us to stay."

Bud didn't answer; Pacifica could see the gears turning in his head as he thought about how to politely word that he wanted Pacifica to stay anywhere but here.

"I would like that," Catherine said.

They all turned.

"You should stay for dinner," she said. "I've missed you, Pacifica."

Pacifica froze.

"You've. . . missed her?" Ellie said carefully.

"Yes. It's been so long."

Pacifica somehow managed to speak. "You. . . remember me? Mom?"

Catherine frowned. Oh, no. Of course she doesn't remember me. "That was such a stupid thing to say," Shadow Pacifica said, and Pacifica fully agreed.

"A little bit," Catherine said.

Wait. . .

She hadn't been frowning in annoyance. She'd been frowning in thought.

"I remember you a little bit," Catherine said decisively. "Stay, so I can remember you more."

Pacifica stared at her mother in disbelief.

Those tears that had come when Pacifica had seen Mabel's wave — they came back. And they brought friends. Pacifica suddenly couldn't see.

"Mom," she whispered. She stumbled over to her mother, who gave her a gentle hug.

Pacifica and Ellie stayed for dinner. And Pacifica's relief that Catherine somehow — somehow — remembered her was too big to be contained. It spilled out of Pacifica in big, wet, happy tears.

Pacifica would go with Ellie, but Catherine remembered Pacifica enough to want to visit. Pacifica wouldn't be alone in the hospital Ellie wanted to send her to. She'd have her grandmother and mother to visit her.

Maybe. . . maybe it was just like Grandmother had said. Maybe good change could happen.

~~~~~

Camille Pines lay back on the bed in her hotel room with a sigh. There were mixed emotions in that sigh: Sadness. Dread. But also contentment. Relief.

Tomorrow morning was Stanley Pines' funeral. It would be a mournful occasion. But tonight was another night where Camille's children were here with her. Were safe. And that was so relieving that Camille couldn't feel entirely sad.

There was a rustling sound in the darkness, followed by a few tentative steps. "Mom?" whispered a voice.

Camille couldn't see her, but she knew it was Mabel. "Yes?" she whispered back.

"I can't sleep."

That wasn't really surprising. Mabel had known Stanley. She'd been there when he died. Of course she'd have a hard time sleeping tonight.

Camille shifted to make room for Mabel. "Come snuggle with me."

Mabel got into the bed and curled up beside her mother. Camille couldn't help feeling another rush of relief — her daughter was here; she was alive.

Camille tried to push aside the relief so she could focus on comforting Mabel. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"I. . . don't want to wake up Dad," Mabel said.

"Oh, you know your dad," said Camille. "I'm not sure he'd wake up if a train came through the wall."

Mabel laughed a little.

"So," Camille repeated, "do you want to talk about it?"

Mabel didn't answer at first. She shifted, pressing up against Camille. "I was there," she whispered.

Camille put an arm around Mabel and held her close. "Did you see anything?"

"N-no," Mabel said. "I closed my eyes. So did Dipper. But — I heard it."

From the sound of her voice, she was crying.

"I h-heard the s-sounds, and — and people were screaming — and Fidds was — was—"

She cut off.

"I'm sorry," said Camille. "I'm sorry you had to be there."

"Even though I didn't see it, my mind keeps trying to imagine it," Mabel whispered. "So I keep hearing the sounds — and seeing it in my imagination — and—"

"And you can't sleep."

"Y-yeah."

"Do you need to get up and do something? Like draw? Or do you want to try to sleep again here, with me?"

Mabel was quiet as she thought. "I can try sleeping again."

"Okay."

"Can I join?" asked another voice.

Camille smiled, though she knew no one could see it in the dark. "Sure, Mason."

"Come over on my side," said a fourth voice. Samuel.

"You're awake?" Camille asked.

"I don't know if a train would wake me up or not," he said, "but yeah, I'm awake. I was never really asleep."

Camille listened to Mason climb into bed on Samuel's side. The four Pines all lay together on the hotel bed.

"I saw Ford," Mason said. "Not when — not on that day. But another day. Gideon and I rescued Ford from the servants. And Ford was. . ." He swallowed. "He'd been tortured."

Camille's heart ached.

"I keep. . . seeing that. In my head."

Her children had been through so much pain.

"So. . . I can't sleep either."

They'd seen things no child should ever see.

But.

They were here.

With Camille. With Samuel. With each other.

Camille couldn't help but feel like everything would be okay.

The Pines talked a bit as they lay there together. But their words quieted and slurred as they all started dropping off to sleep.

"Good night," Camille whispered to Mabel.

Then she let herself fall asleep, too.

~~~~~

"Stanley."

The voice was faint and watery. Something in his awareness stirred.

"Stanley. Come up to the top level."

Without really thinking about it, he complied, shifting from the second level up to the first level. The blurry world that he hadn't been paying attention to suddenly popped into color and detail. And there was Xítway, floating next to him.

"Come see," she said.

Lee frowned, glancing around at the dimly lit forest. "What time is it?"

"Sunrise. Our funeral is starting soon. Come see."

"I thought we weren't attending," said Lee, confused.

"Not attending," Xítway said. "Just seeing the crowd. I'm going, and I thought you might want to come, too."

He hesitated for a moment. "Okay," he said. "I'll come see."

The two of them were beside the cliff line that marked the border of the minotaur village. They traveled through the trees, toward the village proper.

Lee had no idea how ghost travel worked, or what was propelling him forward. He tried not to think too hard about it. That worked out right now, because he was too busy thinking nervously about what he was about to see.

Who would be at his funeral? Who did he want to be at his funeral? Just his family? Order members? He'd told Greg that any Order member who denounced Bill could come, but would Greg take that seriously? In his discussions with Greg (via Greg's dreams), they hadn't talked about who would be there, aside from deciding who would give the speeches.

"There they are," said Xítway.

Yes, Lee could see the people from here. And he was overwhelmed by the sight.

One of the village's big arenas was completely full, with people standing outside the arena who hadn't been able to get a seat on the risers. The entire minotaur village was there — the minotaurs in their small society were all pretty much like family, so it was normal for everyone to attend funerals, Xítway had told Lee. But besides the minotaurs, there were dozens of humans, too. And that was the overwhelming part.

Lee and Xítway came to the entrance of the arena. And Lee stopped as another overwhelming sight stole his attention.

His own dead body.

Xítway's and Lee's bodies were lying atop two platforms — not in caskets, not covered up, but out in the open, in the center of the arena. Xítway's body wore a simple white dress. Lee's body had been dressed in Lee's purple Order robes. That had been a tough decision — Lee knew it would be hard for Ford to see his brother in the robes that marked a life spent without family — but Lee had ultimately told Greg to use the Order robes. Other Order leaders were buried in their robes, and Lee liked the symbolism of wearing the robes to mark the end of the Order as it once was. To mark the end of Bill Cipher.

Speaking of symbolism, there was more than just the dead bodies in the center of the arena. Lee entered the arena and moved closer to the center to get a better look.

Both Lee and Xítway had shrines, so to speak, beside their platforms. Colorful flowers, magically grown in the winter, lined the snowy ground. Tributes from loved ones, in the form of trinkets and papers, rested on tables. And two big pictures, one of each person, stood on easels.

The picture of Xítway had been drawn by Mabel. It featured a calm Xítway, surrounded by pink and yellow flowers. Lee smiled; the drawing looked so serene.

The picture of Lee, on the other hand, wasn't serene at all. It was violent — but in a good way. It had been drawn by Wendy, and it showed Lee, dressed in his Order robes, punching Bill right in the eye.

Lee couldn't help but grin. He loved it. White flames raged in the background of the picture. In the foreground, Bill was in the process of shattering, and Lee had a triumphant smile on his face. It was beautiful.

Hanging off the corner of the frame were Lee's brass knuckles. Lee didn't recognize or remember ever using those brass knuckles, but Ford had told him that he'd brought them on adventures back in the day. Lee believed it. And he liked seeing them alongside Wendy's picture.

"Stanley, look," Xítway said. "Someone sees us."

Lee turned and followed Xítway's pointing finger. She pointed up a few rows in the risers, and Lee found himself looking at Pacifica.

Right. Of course. She could see his ghost. Lee smiled at Pacifica, and her face lit up with a smile in return. Then he put a finger to his lips — he didn't want the crowd to know he was here — and Pacifica nodded. But the smile never left her face.

Now that he was facing the crowd, Lee scanned the faces. The humans sat on one side of the arena, and the minotaurs on the other, so Lee could see all of the humans at once. The overwhelmed feeling returned. The entire Order seemed to be here.

Had they all really denounced Bill? Did they all really want to honor Lee after he'd betrayed and helped destroy their demon master?

Apparently so.

Lee found himself smiling even wider.

Most of the human guests were members of the Order, but there was also Lee's family, of course. The Pines were in the front row, sitting very close to each other. Dipper and Mabel sat on either side of Ford; Sam sat on the other side of Dipper; Camille sat on the other side of Mabel. Melody Ramirez, ever an honorary member of the Pines family, sat beside Camille, and Fiddleford was on the other side of Melody. Ford looked a little annoyed at being sandwiched between the others, but Lee thought it was good for him to be with people. To be with family.

Behind the Pines were Gideon and Grace, who were also sitting close together. Lee wondered if they were still in a bit of shock from finally seeing each other again after six years — and he wouldn't blame them if they were. Their expressions matched the somber mood of the funeral, but they also had a lingering expression of relief that they were together again.

And of course, behind them were the Pleasures. Pacifica was still smiling at Lee. On either side of her were Eleanor and Catherine — and Catherine was, surprisingly enough, holding Pacifica's hand. Had she that easily accepted Pacifica as her daughter, even without her memories?

But Bud didn't look like he had accepted Pacifica. He sat sullenly on the other side of Catherine, pointedly not looking at Pacifica, but also not looking at Lee's body below, either. Lee wondered if he would've stayed home from the funeral had Ellie not (in all likelihood) forced him to come. Bud and Lee never had been friends, after all.

Well, Lee was glad Pacifica wouldn't be going back to live with Bud. There seemed to be some hope with Catherine, though.

Scanning the rest of the crowd, Lee saw June the hamadryad — which surprised him, though it shouldn't have. June had apparently known Lee both before and after he'd become Lincoln. He was glad to see her.

Beside her were the three Corduroys and the five Valentinos. Greg and Janice were the only Order members of that group, but after spending most of the time during the township with the Pines, it made sense that Robbie and the Valentinos would be here as well.

Beside the Corduroys were the Chius. Lee had attended Caleb's conviction, and it was good to see the family together after the elders had promised not to separate them. Yingtai and Candy sat on either side of Caleb, and they hardly seemed to notice the uncomfortable looks the Order members and minotaurs occasionally gave them. Although Lee thought he could see Candy's eye twitching as the girl struggled not to glare at people.

Honestly, on top of the uncomfortable looks given to the Chius, there seemed to be a general tension between the humans and minotaurs. This was unsurprising, since most of the humans used to support the minotaurs' worst enemy. But, well, that was the purpose of this joint funeral — to let the humans and minotaurs experience something together.

"Stanley? I think they're about to start," Xítway said. "Are you ready to go?"

Lee turned to look at her. He suddenly had no idea how to respond.

Xítway seemed to expect this. "Do you want to stay?" she asked.

"Are we. . . allowed to?" Lee asked.

"Of course," Xítway said. "Funerals are mostly for our loved ones, like I've told you, but we can attend if we want to."

Did he want to? He'd told Xítway before that he didn't. But now, seeing everyone. . . seeing all the people who'd come. . .

A female minotaur stood and came to the center of the arena, between the two platforms. "Let us begin," she said.

"Stanley?" prompted Xítway.

"Let's — let's stay," he said on impulse.

"All right," she said. "It may be painful. But we can leave whenever you'd like to."

He nodded.

The minotaur, whom Xítway identified as one of the elders, officiated the funeral — at least, Xítway's part of the funeral. "Xítway has asked us to hold her funeral in English," the elder said, "so the humans may hear."

The elder then went on to describe Xítway's life, as if it were a grand story that had culminated with her giving her life to protect the Symbols from Cipher. It didn't matter that she'd technically failed, or that her death had been too sudden for her to really do anything brave — the fact that she'd been there to guard Lee in the first place was brave. And from the way the elder told the story, with large motions and a loud voice, Lee felt that bravery.

After the story and a few speeches, the elder gestured to another minotaur. "Ásham will now begin the mourning," the elder said.

The other minotaur stood. He had hair so grey it looked blue. "That's my husband," Xítway whispered.

"The humans may join us if they wish," the elder said. Then she nodded to Ásham.

Ásham lifted his head and howled.

It was a deep sound, like cattle lowing. And it was long, with a lot of breath. Lee could hear the pain of a widowed husband in that howl.

After a few seconds of Ásham howling, the other minotaurs joined in. Soon the entire village was mourning Xítway with loud, long calls.

The humans looked shocked, and some of the Valentino boys had their hands over their ears. But some joined in. Melody started it on the human side, tilting her head back and crying out with the minotaurs. Then Gideon and Grace and Pacifica joined. Then the Pines.

Before long, most of the humans were howling along with the minotaurs in mourning. Lee watched, completely taken aback by how emotional — how strange — how beautiful — this ritual was.

Even Xítway herself joined in, though only Lee could hear her.

But then Ásham stopped howling and turned his head sharply. Xítway saw the movement. "Ásham?" she said, floating closer to her husband.

It didn't seem he could see her, but he must be able to feel her presence.

With Ásham quiet, the noise from rest of the crowd gradually died down. "He heard me," whispered Xítway. "He must have."

Ásham stared in the general direction of his wife's ghost. Then he gave her a slow nod. And walked back to his seat.

Xítway followed, hovering beside her husband.

The mourning ritual marked the end of Xítway's part of the funeral. With a sweep of her arm, the elder invited the humans to start Lee's part.

If Lee still had a stomach, it'd be turning over in nervousness. Xítway was watching him, and he could sense her unasked question: Did he want to leave?

. . . No. He didn't think he did.

Sam stood and came to the center of the arena. "The Stanley Pines I remember from my childhood was a happy, kind man," he said. "He only visited a few times, and often at random, but I remember being excited for every moment with him."

Sam continued, explaining the life Lee had lived in the first thirty years of his life, starting from his childhood in New Jersey. Sam told stories, even made jokes, and smiled despite the tears in his eyes. Lee smiled back at his nephew, wishing he could remember him.

When Sam finished, Grace Northwest — no, wait, Grace Prewitt — stood and took over. Sam had described Lee's life up until the adventuring he'd done with Ford in the eary 80s. Now Grace continued, describing Lee's kidnapping, memory loss, and transformation into Lincoln. She told of the memories she had of him — not as a happy man, but as a comfort, a confidant. "Though he had little opportunity to be happy in his new life," she said, "he was still kind. He was kind to a teenage girl who needed him."

Lee listened to her, but he also watched Sam. Something about him. . . Something had changed. Lee felt strange, but he didn't know why.

"I think I'll regret for the rest of my life that I didn't tell Lincoln the truth," Grace said a few minutes into her speech. "Maybe he could've been reunited with Stanford sooner. I don't know. But I'm thankful my brother did what I didn't, and helped Lincoln find his family. I'm glad the Pines could be together again, if only for a short time."

Lee turned to look at the audience. To look at Ford, specifically. Ford was staring at Grace — no, actually, glaring at her. He looked angry. But there were also tears in his eyes. Lee didn't think Ford was mad at Grace so much as uncomfortable showing emotion in public.

Of course, he'd shown plenty of emotion at the Northwest Manor on the day Lee died. But that emotion had been sudden, instinctive, explosive. And that had been. . . what, eleven days ago, now? Lee had been dead for eleven days? Well. . . regardless, Ford had had time to feel his emotions, and also time to bury them. He didn't seem to appreciate Sam and Grace coaxing those emotions back to the surface.

Deal with it, Ford, thought Lee, feeling faintly angry, but also fond. This is my funeral you're at. I want you to feel your emotions.

Grace finished her speech. "Whether as Stanley or Lincoln, Lee was a good man," she said. "Whether homeless or captive, he reached out to others to help them. May he live in our memories."

Funny how sentimental people got at a funeral. Lee hadn't been that selfless, especially not while homeless. He'd spent much of his time thinking of ways to swindle people, after all.

. . . Wait.

Lee gasped.

It felt like an electric shock ran through him. He spun around to face Xítway.

"What?" She left Ásham and came over to Lee. "What is it?"

"I. . ."

She waited patiently for him to continue. He had to sort through his thoughts — had to know before he could say anything.

"I remember," he finally said.

"You do?" she said eagerly. "What do you remember?"

"I. . . I don't know. Something. . . before I came to live with Ford?"

He turned and looked at Sam again. Sam had moved on to the next part of the funeral — which was another story, from the same elder who had officiated Xítway's funeral, about Lee's sacrifice and triumph over Bill. Lee wasn't thinking about the elder or the story, though. He was instead staring intently at Sam. So intently, in fact, that Sam frowned and glanced in Lee's direction.

Then it happened.

Lee saw a flash — an image. He saw, in front of him, a different place altogether: a living room. And in that living room, a young boy, grinning at him.

Sam. As a child.

The image disappeared after only about a second. But it was enough. "I remember Sam," Lee said to Xítway. "I remember Sam as a child."

"How much do you remember?" Xítway asked.

"Just — just images," he said. "And feelings, like about what things were like back then. But I. . . I remember."

The joy he felt coming from Xítway was more than he'd felt from her since they'd first reunited. "Stanley, that's wonderful," she said.

"Do you think it will all come back?" he said. "Now that I'm — dead? I guess the memory gun destroyed the memories in my brain, but now that I technically don't have a brain, maybe I can start remembering everything?"

"That sounds possible," Xítway said. "I've never heard of someone in your situation, so I can't say. But if you're starting to remember. . ."

The minotaur elder had started her dramatic rendition of Lee's death and the victory of the Cipher Wheel. But Lee hardly heard. "I am," he said to Xítway. "I'm starting to remember. Oh, Xítway, I. . ."

Emotions overwhelmed him. He had no eyes with which to cry, but even with these weaker emotions as a spirit, he still had to stop talking for a moment to just. . . feel.

"Do you still want to stay?" Xítway asked once Lee had calmed down a bit, and the minotaur elder had finished her oration. "I believe they're about to. . . bury us."

Lee looked sideways at Xítway. She seemed distressed. He realized he hadn't been considering her emotions in all of this — so much for his supposed kind heart. "Xítway, if you don't want to stay, you don't have to."

"But you do?"

"I think. . . I think I want to stay until the end."

No matter how strange and terrible it would be to see his corpse laid in the ground to decompose.

"I will too, then," Xítway said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The funeral service ended. A procession was formed to go to two different graveyards: first, the one in the minotaur village, for Xítway; and second, the one in Gravity Rises, where Lee already had a gravestone with his name on it. From his falsified death thirty years ago.

Lee and Xítway went with the crowd to the minotaur graveyard. Ásham, Moira, Andrew, and a few other minotaurs carried Xítway's body slowly down the path. The white dress that the body wore hung down and fluttered in a small breeze.

A hole was already dug in the graveyard. The bearers lowered Xítway's body into it.

"They're burying me next to my parents," Xítway said softly. "My mother died giving birth to my younger sister. My father died years later from a wild animal attack. And now I'm here with them."

"You have a sister?" Lee asked. "Where is she?"

"She went through our portal a few years ago," Xítway said, "as part of our population control. I haven't heard from her since then — we have no communication between dimensions. But I hope she's doing well."

Lee nodded. He watched Xítway's family shovel dirt over the grave. Xítway was silent beside him. He felt bad for making her come and watch this — but she could leave whenever she wanted to. She chose to stay.

She chose to watch her body disappear beneath the soil.

Some minotaurs gave a few more lowing calls, like the ones from earlier. Others stood in silence, while still others started chanting in their native language. "Prayers," Xítway said, "for my afterlife."

Lee thought about this. "Who are they praying to?"

"The Divine," she replied. "The Being who will someday resurrect us all."

Lee considered this. He'd had quite enough of higher powers using him for evil purposes, as Bill had done for thirty years. But a higher power who promised renewed life?

That he could get behind.

The humans, June the hamadryad, and a few minotaurs — mostly Andrew's family — left the minotaur graveyard and returned to the arena, where Lee's body lay. Ford, Andrew, Sam, Camille, Greg, Janice, Grace, and Gideon all lifted Lee's body and started walking with it balanced on their arms and shoulders. It was more awkward than carrying a casket might have been, but Lee liked the idea of burying the body alone, the way the minotaurs did it.

Of course, that had been before he'd watched this procession. Xítway had said it might be painful, and it was. Whenever this Resurrection was, Lee hoped it was soon, because he desperately wanted his body back.

It was a long, long journey from the minotaur village to the Gravity Rises graveyard. But the bearers and the following crowd walked the entire distance. Occasionally Gideon would levitate Lee's body with his amulet to give the bearers a rest, but then he would always lower the body back down for them to carry. Something about that effort made Lee strangely grateful.

Lee and Xítway followed all the way to the graveyard, where there was once more a hole in the ground waiting for Lee's body. Lee watched in horrified fascination as his loved ones lowered his body into the grave and started filling it back up with dirt. The scene became instantly seared in his memory.

No wonder spirits didn't often attend their own funerals.

When the grave was filled, the crowd stood silently around it. No howling, no prayers. Just silence. Lee looked around at all the solemn faces.

Then looked down at his gravestone.

Stanley "Lincoln" Pines, it read. Respected leader. Honored traitor. Saved countless universes from destruction.

It wasn't the same gravestone he'd been given thirty years ago, of course. This one was new. It didn't have his middle name, Filbrick, nor his preferred name, Lee. But it had the names that really mattered.

Stanley, for the person he'd been. The person he was now remembering.

Lincoln, for the leadership he'd given. The leadership that had been strong enough to know when he needed to turn against his master to save his friends.

And Pines. For his family.

"Do you want to go with them?" Xítway asked.

Lee looked at her. "With my family? Yes. I'll go with them. You should go back to Ásham. If he felt you earlier, he may be able to again."

Xítway considered this, then nodded. "Thank you," she said, "for seeing all this with me."

"Even though it hurts?"

Another nod. "Even though it hurts."

With that, Xítway faded out of view, dropping down to the second level of the spirit plane to more quickly travel back to her husband.

Lee turned to look at his family.

They were leaving the graveyard. The crowd had largely dispersed, but a smaller group headed back to the Mystery Museum. Lee went with them. It didn't take too long until Pacifica noticed him, but he once again put a finger to his lips so she wouldn't announce his presence to the others. This next part, this post-funeral celebration, definitely wasn't for him. It was for his loved ones.

He still went with them, though. At the Museum, people sat around the living room and kitchen with faint, sad smiles on their faces. Melody made her famous hot chocolate — and Gideon loved it. Grace got some, too, but she spent more time with her arm around her brother than she did drinking from her mug.

Lee noticed that Fidds looked particularly grieved. But Lee was glad to see that Ford, though he didn't talk to Fidds, didn't yell at him either. The two men sipped their hot chocolate and avoided each other's gaze. And both Mabel and Dipper made an effort to talk to them, to be with them — Dipper with Ford, and Mabel with Fidds.

They were there. Lee's family. Lee's loved ones. They were together. It hurt that Lee couldn't really be there with them, but it also felt wonderful to know that they would all keep going. With others around them to support them.

Lee smiled to himself.

Xítway had been right. Attending the funeral had hurt. But somehow, Lee didn't regret being there. And he was glad to see his loved ones now, brought closer together, even if by pain.

He watched them for a little while longer. Then decided it was finally time to leave.

He dropped back down to the second level — the faces of his family blurred — and decided to rest.

Art by GiddyDanish (Xítway) and undying_lilies (Lee)