A FEW HOURS EARLIER

After Ford and the kids left on their trip to find June, it wasn't long before Fiddleford woke up again.

Melody had only returned to Ford's room a few minutes before. The house was nice and quiet, which was a lovely contrast to the loud bustle that the others had made while they got ready to go. She sat on her chair, taking a moment just to breathe.

"Melody?"

She looked up. Fiddleford's left eye was open again, and he was watching her.

She got to her feet. "Hello again, Fiddleford," she said gently. "How are you feeling?"

He frowned. "Really hungry. And I have to use the bathroom."

"Okay," Melody said. "Do you think you can make it to the bathroom? If not, you're wearing an adult diaper, and I can change it for you."

Fidds wrinkled his nose. "I want to try to make it to the bathroom," he said.

"Okay, we'll try." Melody had brought a walker and other supplies for such an occasion as this. She brought the walker over to the bed. "I'll help you sit up," she said. "But first, do you think it would help if I gave you an eyepatch?"

Fiddleford's right eye blinked open, then squeezed shut again. "Yes, please," Fidds said. "There are two of you. It hurts my head."

Melody nodded. She'd expected this, after seeing Fiddleford's eyes point two different directions when he'd first come out of the portal, and now with his right eye closed. If he wore an eyepatch, he wouldn't have to squeeze his eye shut like that.

She picked up an eyepatch from the dresser (she'd brought three from her home, just in case) and took it to Fiddleford. She put the strap over his head and situated the eyepatch over his right eye. "Better?"

Fiddleford blinked a few times. "Much better," he said with relief in his voice.

"Okay, now let's sit up." Melody helped him to a sitting position just as she had yesterday — except this time, Fiddleford pulled more of his own weight. Then she helped him stand up, and she placed his hands on the walker. "Use this, all right? Even if you feel like you don't need it. Just use it to be safe."

Fiddleford nodded, and Melody stood beside him with a steadying arm around his back. "Good," she said. "Let's go."

They left the room and moved down the hall toward the bathroom. Fiddleford's steps were shambling and a little unsteady, but they were miraculous considering that this was the first time he had walked in thirty years. Melody could hardly believe what she was seeing, and she hoped that Ford and the others would come back soon with Juniper. Melody needed magical help to understand all of this.

They made it to the bathroom slowly but surely. Melody opened the door and helped Fiddleford into the room. "Do you need my help?" Melody asked.

"I can handle it myself," Fiddleford said. He seemed embarrassed at the thought of her coming into the bathroom with him.

Melody's first instinct was to doubt that Fiddleford could actually handle it, but then she reconsidered. He'd been doing some miraculous things so far. Maybe she should let him try this, too. "Okay," she said. "I'll stay out here. Don't lock the door, though, and call me if you need help. There's nothing to be ashamed of, Fiddleford. I'm here to help you."

She closed the door gently and waited. She could hear Fiddleford shuffling around in the bathroom, then relieving himself, then flushing, then washing his hands. There didn't seem to be any problems with his balance or anything.

Melody waited for Fiddleford to open the door, but he didn't. He was silent on the other side. "Fiddleford?" she called.

No answer.

"Fiddleford, are you okay? I'm coming in," she said, and she pushed open the door.

Fiddleford stood, his hands braced on the bathroom counter, and stared at himself in the mirror. His left eye was wide as he took in his reflection.

"Fiddleford? Is everything okay?"

"I'm. . ." He lifted a hand to feel the wrinkles on his face. "What happened to me?"

"What do you mean?"

He wrenched his eyes — or, his left eye — away from the mirror and turned to Melody. "How long was I in the other dimension?"

Melody's eyes widened. "You don't know?"

He shook his head slowly. "It. . . it felt like only a minute. Or. . . an eternity. I don't know."

"You told me you just floated there," Melody said. "Did you. . . did you move at all?"

Another slow shake of his head. "I didn't move. I just. . . thought." His left eye closed. "All I could do was think about all the terrible things I'd done. About what I'd done to Stanley."

"For thirty years?" Melody whispered.

"Is that. . ." Fiddleford couldn't seem to believe it. "Is that how long it's been?"

"Yes," Melody said. "You disappeared sometime in 1982. It's the beginning of 2013 now."

Fiddleford stared at her. Then, with his hands still braced on the counter, he hung his head. "Thirty years," he mumbled. "That means. . . I'm sixty-two years old?"

"I guess so," Melody said quietly. "Fiddleford, I. . . I had no idea you didn't know how long it's been."

He ran a hand over his wrinkly bald head and through his matted beard. "Look at me," he whispered. "I'm. . . old."

"We can trim your beard, if you want," Melody said, "and get it out of the way."

He lifted his long beard and frowned at it. "That would be nice."

"Should we trim it now, or do you want food first?"

"Let's do it now, while we're here," he said.

So Melody got Ford's clippers, helped Fiddleford sit on the side of the bathtub, and cut off most of Fidds' beard. A lot of the hair made it into the trash can; the rest went down the bathtub drain; and soon Fiddleford had a small, manageable beard that was only a few inches long. Having a shorter, neater beard made Fiddleford look less like an unkempt hobo and more like a kind grandfather.

He rubbed his face once she was done. "Thank you," he said. "That's a lot better."

"You're welcome," she said. "How's your energy? Do you want food now?"

"Food, for sure," he said. He glanced up at her. "Apparently I haven't eaten in thirty years. I'm starving."

He should be long dead. But he wasn't. He was alive, and he was walking and talking. Melody went with him to the kitchen, keeping her arm around him as he moved with the walker, and already his steps were getting stronger. They made it to the kitchen, where Melody left Fidds at the table and started making him some food. "I'm going to blend it together so you can swallow it easier, okay?" Fidds didn't look happy about that, but he relented. Before long, he was noisily eating the pureed food that she'd made for him.

It was his first meal in thirty years.

After he finished, he seemed to droop. "Are you getting tired again?" asked Melody. "You can go back to sleep."

"I. . . I'm so tired," Fiddleford said. "Why am I so tired?"

Melody helped him to his feet and brought his walker closer to him. "It's going to take a while to get your energy back up," she said. "For now, you can rest. We're going to get some supernatural help, too, to see if there's anything else you need. Sound good?"

He nodded, his head bobbing on his neck. His energy was draining fast, despite his strength just a few minutes earlier.

Melody went back to Ford's room with him, and he was slower than he was before. They eventually got back to the room, and Melody helped Fidds back into the bed. "Just rest, Fiddleford," she said. "It's okay."

She took off his eyepatch, and he closed his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you, Melody."

"You're going to be okay," she assured him.

His breathing slowed. Fiddleford dropped off to sleep.

~~~~~

After spending two weeks alone in a cave in the middle of the forest, Lincoln had hoped not to return for at least a few days. But, only two days after Lincoln had returned from the cave, Bill Cipher wanted to leave town again.

It was late morning, and Lincoln was cleaning up after a nice brunch he had shared with Pacifica. Things were admittedly tense between them — Pacifica seemed to think that Lincoln was bewitched or otherwise deceived by the Pines when he tried to convince her to join the Cipher Wheel — but Lincoln still tried to reach out to the girl. The fact that she'd hid Ford from him really hurt, but Lincoln was determined not to let it drive a rift between them. He would stay close to Pacifica, spend time with her, and show her that he wouldn't abandon her. That seemed to be what she needed right now.

And maybe, just maybe, Lincoln could convince her to join the Cipher Wheel.

He filled the sink with sudsy water and started washing the dishes from their meal. How long did he have? Bill had appeared in his dreams last night and informed him that they would be leaving again today sometime around noon. Lincoln had no idea where exactly they were going, just that it was somewhere in the forest. He didn't want to go, but he hardly had a choice in the matter.

Lincoln washed the dishes, dried them, and put them away. He took his sweet time doing it, too. He was drying the last of the dishes when Pacifica reappeared in the kitchen. "Are you going to get ready?" she asked.

Lincoln glanced to her. "I don't want to go. I think Bill is perfectly capable of getting ready once he takes over."

"That only means he'll be in your body longer," Pacifica pointed out, folding her arms.

True, but Lincoln still didn't want to follow Bill's orders any more than he had to. He finished drying the final pan and put it away. "You're not coming with us, are you?" he asked Pacifica.

"No, I'll be working on something here." From her expression, it seemed she was looking forward to it.

"What will you be doing?"

The happy look on Pacifica's face dropped. "I'm not supposed to tell you," she said. "Look, you really should go get ready. You need to get your snowshoes and other supplies."

Lincoln sighed. "No."

Pacifica didn't look impressed. She glanced to the side, then back up at Lincoln. "Bill says he doesn't have time for this."

"I don't care to know what Bill says," Lincoln replied. He felt a twinge of annoyance. Twenty years ago, he would have been enraged at the way Bill was using him; but Bill's deal to take away Lincoln's anger was still in effect. Lincoln had thought many times in the past couple days that he should be angry at a lot of things. But he never was.

Pacifica, for her part, was plenty angry. "You're deliberately sabotaging him!" she said in an accusatory voice.

"Yes, in whatever way I can," Lincoln replied. It wasn't enough — it'd never be enough unless Lincoln found a way to join the Cipher Wheel — but it was something.

Pacifica looked as if she couldn't believe her ears. Then she arranged her face into a smile. "Well, it's not going to work. Bill can still do what he needs to do." Her expression took on an imperious air. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go help Lord Cipher. The way you should be."

Lincoln watched Pacifica flounce away, and it felt as if an invisible hand were squeezing his heart. She was delusional. She was completely taken in by Bill's false promises — much like Lincoln had been for years. She was determined to help Cipher. How was Lincoln supposed to convince her otherwise?

He went back to his room and sat listlessly on his bed, waiting for Bill to take over. It was a terrible suspense, knowing that you were about to leave your body but not knowing when. Lee almost wanted to get ready to leave, if only so that he'd be moving. But instead he lay back on his bed and stubbornly waited for Bill.

Lincoln felt a tug on his soul, and Bill pulled his spirit from his body. "To say I'm annoyed would be an understatement," the demon said once he was inside Lincoln's body, "but that's not important right now. We need to go."

"Enjoy doing that, then," Lincoln said. Bill shot him a glare before standing up and gathering supplies.

It wasn't too long before Bill left the Order: Lincoln's delaying tactics hadn't been very effective. But, well, it was all Lincoln could do. He floated beside Bill as they started the walk into the forest.

Bill was silent as they went. Sometime later, a bored Lincoln realized something. "Hey, Cipher," he said, "I have a question."

Bill glanced sideways at him. "That's Lord Cipher to you."

The correction was a painful reminder. "You are not my lord," Lincoln said. "Not anymore."

Bill raised his eyebrows. "But I'm lording over your body at the moment. I have the control of a lord."

Lincoln had to banish some panicky thoughts before he could reply. "Well, my question is, do I have to stay by your side while you're in my body? Couldn't I go see Ford at the Mystery Museum?"

Bill shrugged. "Technically yes, I suppose. But Sixer isn't at the Museum right now."

"Where is he?"

"Somewhere in this forest," Bill said. "He's on a futile journey to ask the creatures of the forest for help in breaking your and my deal. But he'll learn soon enough that that's not how it works."

Lincoln glanced away as more panicky thoughts threatened to overwhelm him.

"Also, Blind Eye, it's not very practical to leave as a spirit while your body is still alive," Bill added. "A live human body can only survive for so long without a spirit inside of it. When I leave your body, you'll want to return to it as soon as possible, lest the connection wane."

He had a point, though Lincoln highly doubted that Bill would leave Lincoln's body to die if the demon still needed it as a vessel. As they continued through the forest, Lincoln debated on whether or not to leave Cipher's side. He eventually decided that, since he didn't even know where they were going, it was a bad idea to be separated from his body any more than he already was.

A while later, Bill started walking parallel to a cliff face on his left. The stone was pockmarked with boulders and indents, and Bill passed a few small caves that reminded Lincoln of the one he'd stayed in until a few days ago. Lincoln glanced at them in distaste and tried to ignore the worried thought that Bill was going to, once again, put him all alone in a cave.

Finally, Bill stopped. "Okay, I think it's here," he said in a quiet voice (which was strange to hear, since Bill was usually quite loud). "Lincoln, do you see anything in the air in front of us?"

"Like what?"

"Like a shimmery veil, perhaps. Some kind of barrier."

Now that Bill mentioned it, the air a few feet in front of them did have a wavery look to it. "I think so," Lincoln said. "Why? What is it?"

Bill didn't answer the question. "Float past the barrier and tell me what you see."

This instruction puzzled Lincoln, but he knew what his response was. "No, I don't think I will."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Well, if they're there, then they've probably already seen me."

"Who's they?"

Once again, no answer. Instead, Bill moved quietly along the cliff face — or, as quietly as he could in snow clothes and snowshoes. Lincoln followed, and he didn't see anyone at first. Then he noticed the open space through the trees, and he caught glimpses of movement beyond. Lincoln left Bill's side to go investigate.

There was indeed an open space through the trees, and there were only sparse trees throughout the large clearing. The space wasn't empty, though: Huts made of wood and snow-covered thatch, in various states of damage, spotted the area. Large creatures surrounded the huts, working to repair them.

The creatures themselves were startling. They had the same basic shape as humans, but larger. Some, presumably the women, wore dresses wrapped around them, and the men wore simple skirts to the knees. (None of them had much protection from the cold, but they didn't seem bothered by it.) Their feet were cloven hooves; their legs were covered in fur; their heads appeared mammalian — but not human. Lee stared at them for several seconds before recognizing them: These were the minotaurs, known by that name because they resembled the famous bull-human monster from Greek mythology. Lincoln had seen pictures of them in books in the Order library.

The minotaurs were busy working; none even looked to the cliff wall, much less investigated to catch intruders. Lincoln wished he could warn them about Bill's presence, but it was hard to warn people of anything when one was only a spirit. Lee wondered why Bill was trespassing on minotauran lands.

Speaking of Bill, Lincoln probably shouldn't lose him. He flew back through the trees until he found Bill standing in front of the mouth of a small save and squinting into the darkness. "What are you looking for?" Lincoln asked.

Bill didn't answer, likely because he didn't want to draw the minotaurs' attention by talking. The demon glanced back the way he came, then back into the cave. Then, with a determined nod, he stepped forward.

There was a loud crack!, and Bill was thrown back by an unseen force. He landed on his back in the snow, and the white dust flurried around him after the impact. Almost immediately, Bill flew out of Lincoln's body. "No!" the triangle shouted in surprised anger. "No, no, no!"

"What just happened?" asked Lee, flying over in alarm.

"Your body is unconscious, and I'm a fool," Bill said bitterly. "I assumed they wouldn't have their magical defenses up yet." He cursed; Lincoln didn't understand the words he said, but he doubted they were anything good.

"I'm unconscious?" Lee stared down at his body, which was lying peacefully in the snow. "Are you sure I'm not—?"

"You're not dead," Bill said.

Lee felt the urge to re-enter his body, but he wasn't sure he wanted to. Who knew when he'd wake up? Who knew where he'd be? As a spirit, Lincoln watched a group of minotaurs run through the trees and gather around Lincoln's unconscious body. They spoke in loud, alarmed tones; Lincoln couldn't quite make out the words, though some of them sounded similar to English words. A female minotaur with a baby on her hip gestured at people to stay back, and a smaller minotaur ran into the cave that Bill had tried to enter. "Wait!" called Lincoln instinctively, but the minotaur wasn't hurt when he passed into the cave.

"What do you mean?" Bill asked. "What's going on?"

Lincoln glanced to him. "Can't you see?"

"No, not when your body is unconscious like this," Bill said. "Only you can see what's going on right now."

The smaller minotaur, who Lincoln assumed was a young boy, ran back out of the cave and declared something that seemed to cause relief in the other minotaurs.

"Well, what's happening?" Bill asked.

"If you can't see, then I'm not going to tell you," Lincoln said.

Bill rolled his eye. "Fine. I'll see it in your mind later."

Lincoln glanced at the minotaurs, who were in some kind of tense discussion that he couldn't understand. "Why can't you see it in my mind now?" he asked Bill.

"Because you don't have a mind right now," Bill said. "Only souls have minds. Bodies have brains; spirits have intelligences; and when put together in a soul, they make a mind. When you go back into your body, your spirit will tell your body what happened, and that's when I'll be able to see it in your mind."

Lincoln was confused, but he didn't have much time to think about what Bill had said. The minotaurs picked Lee's body up out of the snow, and it was slung over a brawny minotaur's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Wait, what are you doing?" asked Lee, forgetting that the minotaurs couldn't hear him.

"Are they taking your body?" asked Bill.

Lincoln turned to him. "What are they going to do to me?" he asked, slightly panicked.

"Probably take you prisoner," said Bill, "if they can find an undamaged building to put you in."

"Prisoner?" The panic was stifling; Lincoln could almost see his own terrified thoughts floating around him.

"You'll probably be fine," Bill said. "You had better return to your body soon. You don't want to leave it for too long without a spirit, even when it's unconscious."

Lincoln glanced between the minotaurs (who were discussing something with Lee's unconscious body still over one of the men's shoulders) and Bill.

"Go on," Bill encouraged. "I'll see you later."

Lincoln didn't move. "You brought me out here to get taken prisoner by the minotaurs?" he finally said.

"No, I brought you out here to steal something," Bill said, "and I failed. Now you get to suffer the consequences."

The minotaurs started walking away, and Lincoln's body flopped like a ragdoll. Lee winced and flew after them. He glanced back at where Bill had been, but the demon had disappeared. Lincoln was left alone with no one to see or hear him.

The urge to return to his body was almost overwhelming. He should follow that urge, he knew; but he was scared. What would happen to him? Would the minotaurs hurt him?

He followed the minotaurs all the way to a hut that was mostly intact. A few minotaurs entered, and the minotaur who had Lee over his shoulder placed him on a bench in the back of the hut.

Go back! cried Lee's thoughts. Please, let me back into my body!

Lincoln could no longer deny the desire to return. He shot a fearful look around the hut. The minotaurs were conversing again, and nobody was touching Lee's body. If they were going to kill him, they would've already done so, right? He was safe. He could return to his body and enjoy the oblivion of unconsciousness.

Lincoln flew into his body, and darkness overtook him.