The light of the rising sun coaxed Melody's eyes open. She blinked and sat up, grimacing at the soreness that came from sleeping on the floor. Mabel and Dipper were next to her, curled up in their blankets with Waddles between them, and Melody was mindful of them as she quietly got to her feet and moved to Ford's bed. She checked Fidds' vitals, found nothing irregular (which was strange, considering that he'd been in another dimension yesterday), and gently shook him. "Fiddleford?"

Nothing.

It scared her that she was the only person who could help him. She was a certified nurse, yes, but she hardly had the necessary hospital equipment to find out what was wrong with Fiddleford, or to most effectively help him. For now, he seemed to be in a coma — which was worrying in itself, for she had no feeding tube with which to give him nutrients. If he didn't wake up naturally soon, he could die of starvation on her watch.

She couldn't let that happen.

Melody took a deep breath. As worrying as Fiddleford's condition was, it wasn't the most pressing issue right now. With the sun cresting the horizon, it was well past seven A.M. — which meant that Stanley had less than three hours left with them before he had to leave. Melody should at least send him off with a nice family breakfast.

She changed into a set of fresh clothes (which she had brought from her house yesterday, after leaving Ford at the Order with Lee) and took her elderly monitor and slipped from Ford's room. The house was silent, and Melody stepped softly with bare feet across the carpeted floor. The carpet turned to hardwood as she reached the entryway, and she paused when she looked into the living room.

Stanford and Stanley were asleep on the couch. Ford's head was on Lee's shoulder, and Lee's head was resting on Ford's. They looked ready to slip off the couch altogether, but they stayed in their slumped sitting positions. Ford let out a loud snore (a sound with which Melody was familiar), and the brothers shifted. Lee sighed as he settled back down.

Melody couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face.

She padded into the kitchen, leaving the brothers to their sleep. The sun wasn't yet shining through the westward kitchen window, but Melody still felt cheerful as she flipped the light on and started making breakfast. She tried to be reasonably quiet, but it wasn't long before Lee appeared in the kitchen entrance. "Good morning," he said as he rubbed at his eyes.

Melody glanced to him. "Good morning," she replied. "How did you sleep?"

Lee chuckled. "We were up for most of the night," he said. "I doubt we got more than three hours of sleep. But, it's hard to feel tired when you're learning about an entire life that you've lost."

He said it casually, and Melody paused and turned from the stove. "If you don't mind my asking," she said, "how do you talk so easily about your amnesia? Is it just because it's been so long?"

There was a moment of quiet as Lee considered her question. "Partly," he said. "Partly through. . . supernatural intervention."

Melody met his eyes. He didn't look away, though he didn't seem to want any follow-up questions. So she nodded and turned back to the food.

A minute later, Ford joined them. "Melody," he said in lieu of a greeting, "I'm going to need your help." He grimaced and put a hand on his back.

She smiled at him. "Good morning to you, too."

He scowled in return, but she knew that it was in response to his back pain, not to her. Although. . . it was irresponsible of her to leave Ford without a bed — injured and aged as he was. It sounded as if he hadn't gotten much sleep to begin with, but sitting on the couch all night had surely left him stiff.

"I can take over with that," Lee said, nodding to the scrambled eggs and vegetables on the stove. "If you need to help Ford."

Melody smiled sheepishly. "It was meant to be for you," she said, "but if you're willing. . ."

"Sure."

So Melody gave Lee instructions on how to finish her recipe. Then she let him take over as she helped Ford rebandage his injuries. She noticed Lee glancing over at Ford during the process. Ford caught the glances, too: and eventually, he simply said, "Yes. The Order was responsible for this."

Lee grimaced. "I'm sorry," he said.

Melody finished helping Ford, including a brief massage of his upper back. "Do you want one too, Lee?" she asked.

He gave a small laugh. "That'd be lovely, but I'll be all right. We'd better start eating before this gets cold."

While Lee set the table, Melody went to get the others. Mabel and Dipper were already awake when she reached them, and they sleepily entered the kitchen as Melody went up the stairs.

"Gideon?" she called softly as she reached the top of the stairs. The morning sun shone through the eastward attic window, and its rays fell on a lump of blankets and flannel pajamas.

"Go away," the lump said.

"There's a warm breakfast downstairs," Melody said. "We're going to start eating soon. I hope you'll come down."

Gideon pushed himself upright, squinting at her through his tangled white hair.

"How are you feeling?" she asked gently.

With a disgruntled sigh, Gideon threw off his blankets and got to his feet. "Don't even try," he mumbled. He sounded exhausted. "Just leave me alone."

He moved past her and went down the stairs. Halfway down, he nearly tripped over Waddles, who was headed in the opposite direction. "Stupid pig," he muttered. Melody watched Gideon move out of sight, and she waited for Waddles to get to the top of the stairs before she went down herself.

When she made it to the kitchen, she found her makeshift family sitting at the table. Lee was serving the food, and Ford quietly watched his brother with a faint, sleepy smile on his face. The kids had their eyes half-closed as they tried to adjust to the light. Everybody was tired — herself included — but Melody couldn't help but feel contentment at seeing them all together.

Even if it could only last for a moment.

~~~~~

Lee finished serving the food, then leaned forward. "Are you okay, Gideon?" he asked.

"Dunno," Gideon said. "Do you think he'll send me nightmares if I take naps, too?"

Lincoln grimaced. "I can try to reason with him today."

"Don't bother," Gideon muttered. "He won't listen."

Gideon was right, but Lincoln still decided to talk to Bill. The demon had successfully gotten his revenge; surely he didn't have to extend the punishment. Surely the preparations for Cipher's escape took priority over terrorizing Gideon's dreams.

"Is there anything you want to talk about?" Lincoln asked Gideon. "To help you feel better, maybe?"

Gideon swallowed a bite of food. "I'll be fine," he said to his plate.

"Did you have any more dreams about Evi?" Mabel asked softly.

Gideon flinched, and Mabel immediately looked guilty. "Yeah," Gideon said. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Everly?" asked Lee. "Have you heard from her recently?"

Gideon hunched over his plate. "No."

Mabel gave Lee a confused look, then turned to Gideon. "Doesn't he know—"

"Shut up," Gideon said. "I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

With that, the table fell into silence. Maybe Lincoln shouldn't have asked about Grace. If Gideon really was having nightmares about her, even after six years. . . then it must be a painful topic.

So, rather than make Gideon more uncomfortable, Lee changed the subject. "Stanford tells me that our brother Shermie was a good man," he said. "Mabel and Dipper, do you two have any memories to share?"

Mabel was too chagrined after Gideon had told her to shut up, but Dipper's eyes brightened. "Yeah, Grandpa Shermie was great," he said. "I really miss him, but he left some old records for Dad, and we like to listen to those to remember him."

Dipper talked for the remainder of the meal — which thing seemed to help him wake up — and Lee listened with the occasional question or comment. It was hard to hear stories about an older brother that Lincoln didn't remember, especially because Shermie had passed away some years earlier. Shermie, as well as Lincoln's parents, would only ever be stories in his mind.

But at least Lincoln had those stories. That was more than he'd had yesterday.

After breakfast, Dipper and Gideon went up the stairs to change. Mabel started to follow, but she paused at the bottom of the stairs. "Grunkle Lee," she said, "maybe I shouldn't ask you, but. . . what happened to Everly?"

Lincoln frowned at her, unsure of what the question meant. "She moved away six years ago," he said. "I haven't heard from her since. Why?"

Now Mabel looked confused, too. "Gideon said. . ." She glanced up the stairs to make sure that Gideon wasn't listening. "Gideon told me she was dead."

Lee's eyes widened. "I haven't heard anything about that," he said.

"She died when she left." Gideon appeared at the top of the stairs, and it seemed that he had been listening after all. He was still in his pajamas, and his clothes from yesterday were draped over his arm. "She died as soon as she walked out the door."

Mabel jumped at the sound of Gideon's voice, and Lincoln raised his eyes to look at the boy. "Didn't she just move away?" he asked.

"She's dead," Gideon said firmly. He came down the stairs, and Mabel scrambled out of the way. "I don't want to talk about her," he added, giving Mabel a significant look. "Just leave it alone."

"Sorry," Mabel whispered.

Gideon disappeared into the hall without accepting her apology.

Lee watched him go, trying to figure out what this meant. Was Grace actually dead? Had Gideon convinced himself, for some reason, that she was? Whatever the reason, the boy obviously didn't want to explain. Lincoln turned to Mabel. "I know Gideon misses Everly," he said, "and so do I. Other than that. . . I'm not sure. It's probably best to do as he asks."

Mabel nodded. Her eyes lingered on the entrance to the hallway, but eventually she turned away and went upstairs to change out of her pajamas.

Ford came out of the kitchen and walked over to Lee. "What time do you think it is?" he asked with a glance at the clock.

Lee followed his gaze. The clock's hands were pointing to five fifteen. "We jumped forward three and a half hours yesterday," he said, "so it's about eight forty-five, I think."

"So you still have more than an hour with us," Ford said with a small smile.

Lee shook his head. "Cipher said I had to be gone by ten A.M. I don't want to take the chance and have him possess me again." He knew he was going to get possessed today, but he didn't want it to happen in front of his new family.

"When are you going to leave, then?" Ford asked.

Lee glanced at the clock. "When the clock strikes six, I think. That would be about nine thirty real time, with a bit of a buffer in case my estimation is off."

Ford's smile dropped, but he gave a grudging nod. "Probably for the best."

That gave Lincoln forty-five minutes before he had to go. How did that seem like so long and so short at the same time?

Gideon emerged from the hallway, dressed in his slacks and button-down shirt and vest. At the same time, Melody came from the kitchen. She was about to walk down the hall, but she paused when her eyes caught the sunlight from the front window. "Wait a second," she said. She looked over to Lee and Ford. "It's January sixth."

Lee nodded. "The time bubble is officially over," he said. "We're back in the same timeline as the rest of this dimension."

Melody stared at him, then shook her head. "It'll take a long time for me to wrap my head around that," she said. With that, she went into the hall.

Gideon glanced at her silently as she passed. Then he shifted his gaze to Lee. "Blind Lincoln," he said, "can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," Lincoln replied.

"Yesterday, Stanford said something about a memory gun," Gideon said. "One that could do the same job as the amulet. Is that true?"

Lincoln glanced to Stanford. "Yes," he told Gideon. "I was instructed not to tell you, in case it encouraged you to miss memory sessions. But it hardly matters now: I believe Stanford destroyed it."

Ford nodded. Gideon didn't seem satisfied, though. "Did you use it on Pacifica's parents?" he asked. "Did they forget about their daughter?"

Lincoln hesitated. "Yes," he said, this time reluctantly. "On Lord Cipher's instruction. If you ask Cipher, he'll say that Bud technically agreed to it. I don't see it that way, but. . . yes. I made them forget that Pacifica was their daughter."

Gideon nodded, like he'd suspected this.

"How could you do that?" Ford asked. He sounded vaguely horrified. "You knew what that gun did to you, right?"

"Yes, I knew," Lincoln said. "I've been using it for more than twenty years, though. It's what we used after Gaston lost the amulet and before Grace could use it. I hardly blame the gun for what happened to me."

Ford's face darkened. "I guess you know who to blame now."

Lincoln wasn't sure if he meant Fiddleford or Bill, but his mind went to Bill first. He still couldn't believe that he hadn't connected the dots before. Bill had groomed him to be an Order member and then the Order leader — why hadn't Lincoln ever suspected that he'd taken Lee's memory to create that opportunity?

He sighed, then looked to Ford. "Do you think I could go see Fiddleford?" he asked. "I know he's still unconscious, but. . . I want to see him."

"I don't know why you would," Ford said, "but I guess so. As long as Melody doesn't stop you."

The brothers left Gideon in the living room and went down the hall. Lincoln couldn't help but wonder what exactly Ford's and Melody's relationship was. They talked about Melody being Ford's employee, yet it seemed as if she were the one in charge. It was intriguing, to say the least.

They reached Ford's bedroom, and Lincoln knocked softly on the closed door. There was no response at first; but, after a minute of waiting, the door opened. "Yes?" Melody asked.

"Could I come in?" said Lee. "I want to see Fiddleford."

A guarded look entered Melody's eye. "Why?"

"I just. . . want to see him."

Melody gave him a calculating stare, then nodded. She opened the door wider and gestured for Lincoln and Ford to come in. Lincoln thought he caught her give a warning look to Ford as they passed.

They didn't go close to the bed, but Lincoln moved so that he could see Fiddleford's face. The man's eyes were closed, and he lay still under the blanket. He was bald, with liver spots dotting his wrinkled scalp. A long white beard — longer than anything Lincoln had ever seen — trailed sideways from his chin to the floor. Deep wrinkles furrowed his face and arms. Melody had changed him into soft white clothes, and he might have been a hospital patient if not for the ordinary room in which he lay. He looked fragile and helpless. No wonder Melody had been worried about letting anyone in.

As Lincoln looked at Fiddleford, he half expected to feel angry. But it didn't come. He'd never known this man — not after his amnesia, at least — and even though he knew that Fiddleford was responsible, he couldn't equate that wrinkled face with the long-imagined attacker who had stolen his memory.

Besides, it was Bill Cipher who was truly responsible.

"When do you think he'll wake up?" Lee asked Melody quietly.

"I don't know," she said. "Soon, I hope. I hope I can help him. I don't have anything except whatever medical supplies I have here and at my house. If I can't get him to a hospital. . . I don't know what will happen."

Ford cast a worried glance to Lee. "If he died, would we be able to form the Cipher Wheel?" he asked.

Lee frowned. "All I know is that Cipher needs us alive," he said. "For what, I don't know — but I don't think he'll let Fiddleford die."

Melody folded her arms. "You're not telling me that I should ask a demon to help me tend my patient, are you?"

"No, of course not," Lincoln said. "But you could ask the creatures of the forest. The nymphs, I hear, are particularly good with healing. Plus, they're bound to know more about interdimensional travel than we humans do."

"Good idea," Melody said thoughtfully. "Do you know where the nymphs are?"

"I do," Ford said. "Or, my Journals mention where to find some hamadryads. I could go and—"

Melody held up a hand to stop him. "I don't think you should go into the forest right now. Not with your injuries."

Ford looked annoyed. "My injuries hardly matter, Melody, when the fate of the whole forest is at stake."

Ford had a point, but Lincoln didn't want to hear this argument right now. "Thank you, Melody, for letting us come in," he said. "I'm sure you'll be able to help Fiddleford."

"Thank you," Melody said. "How much longer do you think you'll be here?"

Lincoln glanced at Ford. "About half an hour, I think."

She nodded. "Okay. Come get me then." She smiled, and Lee took that as a dismissal. He left the room, and Ford followed.

"He looks different than he did thirty years ago," Ford said, referring to Fiddleford. He glanced at Lincoln. "He never did like you, but. . . I didn't know about the memory gun at all, much less that he would use it on you."

"It was on Bill's orders," Lee said quietly. "I don't know if whether he liked me or not had anything to do with it."

"A bit like Pacifica's parents?" asked Ford.

Lincoln looked away. "Exactly."

The brothers returned to the living room, where Mabel, Dipper, and Gideon sat on the couch. "There you are," said Dipper. Strangely enough, there was a pig on his lap, and he rubbed its ears. "What now? You're not leaving yet, are you, Grunkle Lee?"

Lee glanced at the clock to see that fifteen minutes had passed. "Not yet," he said. "I have another half hour."

"Will you come sit with us?" Mabel asked timidly. "Just. . . for a little while."

"Of course," Lee said. Gideon got off the couch, and Mabel and Dipper moved to make room for their grunkle. Lincoln sat between the twins as Ford got a chair for himself and Gideon stood to the side. Mabel immediately curled up next to Lincoln on the right, and Dipper leaned against him on the left. The pig made curious snuffling noises and nudged Lincoln's arm. "Who's this?" Lee asked, holding out a hand for the pig to sniff.

"This is Waddles," Dipper said. "He likes you, I think."

Lincoln reached out his arm (the one that Mabel wasn't clinging to) and rubbed Waddles' ears. "I like him, too," he said with a smile.

A glance downward showed a similar smile on Dipper's face.

Looking down at the twins, Lincoln felt a surge of warm affection in his chest, and he found himself blinking back tears. Did he really need to leave this? Couldn't he stay here with his family?

No. He couldn't. He knew that, but. . . he didn't want it to be true.

It was hard to believe that just twenty-four hours ago, Lincoln had been alone in a cold cave, waiting for gravity to settle back down, never imagining that he could be part of a family. When he woke up yesterday, he didn't even know what Stanford Pines looked like, much less that he was his brother. He didn't know that Mabel and Dipper, the twins that he'd heard about from Pacifica, were actually his grandniece and grandnephew. He didn't know anything about the life he'd lost to his amnesia.

Then he went back to the Order. Then he heard Stanford's voice, and everything changed. What little knowledge Lincoln had about himself had been overturned in an instant. He'd learned more about his past in the last day than he had in the thirty years since losing his memory. It was confusing and painful — but already it was better than not knowing at all. Already he felt his capacity for love increasing, because now he had more people to love.

Having a family to love, it seemed, would be worth the pain of leaving them.

Not that he wanted that pain — but it was inevitable. Lincoln tried to keep his eyes away from the clock, though he knew it was futile. He watched the minute hand of the clock move slowly upward from the six to the twelve, and he willed time to stop.

But it kept moving.

Mabel and Dipper seemed determined not to look at the clock, the way they were pressed up against their uncle. Or maybe they wanted to prove to themselves that he was real, that he was here, that their efforts (which Ford had described to Lincoln last night) hadn't been for nothing. Whatever the reason, Lincoln was glad that they were next to him.

After a few minutes of silence, Ford spoke up. "I'll find Robbie and Wendy today," he said, "and tell them about the Cipher Wheel. Is there anything else you can think of, Lee, that would help to defeat Bill?"

Lee considered this. "Whatever Melody can do to help Fiddleford, so that he can join us."

"Will he even want to join us?" asked Dipper. "He stole Ford's Journals. He. . . he hurt you, Grunkle Lee."

"I don't know what he'll want," Lee said. "I can't imagine what spending thirty years in Bill's dimension has done to him. We're just lucky he's alive."

Ford gave Lee a pained look at that, but Lee tried to ignore it. Whether or not he had hurt Lincoln (as Dipper put it), Fidds was still a part of the Cipher Wheel. They whom Bill called his Symbols couldn't afford any rifts between them.

And speaking of rifts, "What about Pacifica?" said Gideon. "When I first saw her down at the Order, she told me that Bill 'kept her sane.' I doubt she'll want to help us."

Dipper lifted his head at this. "We can't let her anywhere near Mabel," he said.

"I don't know what we'll do," Lincoln said, "but. . . I'll talk to her. I'll try to convince her."

Gideon gave a noise of derision. "Good luck."

"Pacifica will never help us," Mabel mumbled. "She'll probably try to stop us."

Lincoln glanced down at her. "I'm sorry about what she's done to you," he said softly.

Mabel didn't answer.

The hands on the clock were getting closer to six A.M., though Lincoln knew that that really meant nine thirty A.M. Melody was right earlier when she said that the time shift would take a while to get used to, and Lincoln could tell that everyone was still tired. He wouldn't mind more sleep himself.

But that wasn't an option. Lincoln wished he could stay here, but he still felt an obligation to do what Bill had instructed and leave his family. Their first deal — that Lincoln would stay within the boundaries appointed by Bill — was still in effect after thirty years. Whatever magic Bill had would compel Lincoln to hold up his end of the bargain, whether or not Lincoln felt tired.

So, when the clock read five fifty-five, Lee gently moved the twins off him. "I'd better get ready to go," he said quietly.

"Do you really have to?" Dipper said immediately.

Lincoln closed his eyes briefly. "Yes, I do."

He got to his feet, and the twins (Dipper moving Waddles from his lap) stood with him. Mabel clung to his arm. Dipper's expression was stubborn, as if the boy wanted to forcefully stop Lee from leaving. Ford stood as well and moved over to his brother. "Is there anything we can do?" Ford asked. "To keep you here?"

"No," Lincoln whispered. Nothing they did would stop Bill from taking over Lincoln's body, and he didn't want them to see that again.

Mabel raised her head to look at Lincoln. "When can you come back, Grunkle Lee?" she asked. Her eyes were simultaneously hopeful and fearful.

"I. . . I don't know," Lincoln said. "I don't know what will happen. We have to get all ten Symbols on board with the Cipher Wheel, and then. . ."

"Then we have to figure out a way that you can join us," Ford finished.

"Yes." He had absolutely no idea how they would do that. But there had to be a way. With a deep breath, he continued, "I'll need you to find any information that you can. I won't have time to look myself." Even if he did, Bill wouldn't let him.

"We'll do that," Ford said.

Lincoln put a hand on Ford's arm. "Thank you," he said. Then, he turned his gaze to Gideon. "And thank you, Gideon, for what you did. I'm. . . I'm sorry about Cipher's punishment. I wish there was something I could do."

Gideon managed a small smile. "You don't have to do anything," he said.

Lincoln smiled back. Then, "Oh, Dipper," he said as he remembered, "will you run go get Melody?"

But Dipper didn't have to go far, because Melody came into the living room a moment later. "I'm right here," she said. "Are you heading out, Lee?"

Lincoln nodded. "I'm sorry, Melody, for worrying you," he said. "Yesterday, when Ford came to the Order, I mean. That wasn't fair."

Melody smiled softly. "I'm just glad you're both safe."

"Me too," said Lee.

Ford didn't seem to think that "safe" included the demonic possession that Lincoln would soon experience, but he didn't say so. Instead, he took a shaky breath and said, "I'll miss you, Lee."

"Me too," Lee said again, softer this time. Mabel and Dipper moved away as Lee stepped forward and embraced his brother.

Ford returned the hug. Like yesterday, his grip was strong and fierce. This time, rather than standing limply in Ford's arms, Lincoln hugged his brother with the same strength. The brothers clung to each other, and for a moment Lincoln couldn't imagine ever moving away.

He didn't know how long they stood there with their arms wrapped around each other. Ford's breath caught in his throat, and Lincoln felt tears forming in his eyes. Any sadness in his heart that he was leaving was matched by a grateful relief that he had found a family. Found his family.

He'd get back to them somehow.

Finally, Lincoln relaxed his grip. Ford reluctantly let go, and the brothers moved to face each other. With a smile that he hoped was encouraging, Lincoln turned and walked to the door. He grabbed his coat from the coatrack and pulled it on.

"You can't go." The words burst from Ford's lips, and he stepped up and put a forestalling hand on Lincoln's arm. "I just found you. You can't go."

"I have to," Lee said. He gently pushed Ford's hand away. "It'll be okay."

Tears welled in Ford's eyes, and he threw his arms around his brother for a second time.

By the time Lincoln had hugged everyone — Ford, the twins, Melody, Gideon — and said his goodbyes, the clock read six ten. Lee's time to get to the Order before Bill took over was running out.

With a heavy heart, Lincoln opened the door and stepped onto the porch. "Thank you, Stanford, for everything. For telling me about my past."

"Of course," Ford whispered. "I. . . I'm glad I finally found you."

Lincoln hesitated. "I don't know if I'm the person you were looking for," he admitted. "But. . . I'm glad I was found."

It took Ford a moment to respond. "I love you," he finally said.

Lincoln looked around at his family. Mabel and Dipper hung on the edges of the doorway, and Ford stood in the center. Melody and Gideon hung back. Lincoln had only just met most of these people, but already he felt a deep bond with them.

"I love you, too," he said.

The winter air wrapped around his coat and stung his cheeks, reminding him that he had to get moving. His bond with Bill, unfortunately deeper than that with his family, pulled him away.

Lincoln raised an arm in farewell, and Ford did the same. Dipper waved, but Mabel just clung to the door frame and stared at Lincoln through the tears on her face. Lincoln smiled at each of them in turn, though the expression was tempered by his sorrow.

"Goodbye," he said to his family.

Then he left them. The wind swirled around him, and he was borne away in its wake.

In his place, he left the daunting question of whether he would ever return.