Something burned within Ford as he returned the Oracle's soft, almost mischievous smile. Something he had only very recently rediscovered in an existence mostly filled with grim solitude.

Something called hope.

Laughter bubbled out of his mouth. Ford seemed half mad, and he just didn't care. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you!" By God, he sounded like a giddy schoolboy instead of a sixty-year-old man —and yet, he couldn't care less. "I thought… well, I feared the worst!"

She tilted her head a little. "I should be thanking you for sending your niece and nephew to save me. They are delightful, by the way."

The moment those words left her mouth, two smaller figures irrupted from behind her. Mabel's eyes were twinkling with a manic energy reminiscent of her uncle Stan, while Dipper simply stared, slack-jawed, at the tall, commandeering figure of the Oracle.

"Of course we are!" Mabel said. "But Grunkle Ford already knew that, didn't he?"

Ford quirked an eyebrow, which made her giggle. Before he could say anything else, however, he was interrupted by a loud, fearful cry.

"No!" said Malakh. "No, no, no, not you, not you!"

She flung a bolt of energy toward Jheselbraum with the tip of her staff. In response, the Oracle traced a magical symbol, diverting the lightning away from herself. Malakh froze, clinging to her staff as if it was the only thing keeping her upright.

"Yes, I have come for you, dear child," Jheselbraum said, extending her hands forward. "Everything will be alright…"

Malakh growled, making a wide motion with her staff. The Oracle deflected her second attack with a single swat of a hand. Malakh grew paler, and her legs started to shake.

"She's having trouble powering the portal and fighting all at once," Ford muttered. "Isn't she?"

"Yes," Jheselbraum ground out, diverting another spell. Sweat was pearling at her brow. "Go to him, quickly! Before it's too late!"

There was another loud cracking sound, and a bolt of blue lightning buzzed missed Ford by an inch, making his hair even frizzlier than usual. Next to Ford, Dipper let out a panicked little laugh.

"I did it…" the boy said, hand still raised, journal clutched under his other arm. "I drew the energy away from Grunkle Ford!"

"You did?" Ford grinned at his nephew. "Amazing, my boy!"

Dipper chuckled nervously at the praise. His smile turned sour, however, when another burst of energy exploded right at his feet.

"Oh, boy!" Mabel wheezed. "I thought being in the middle of a wizard duel would be more fun than this!"

"Jheselbraum's right!" Ford shouted above the chaos. "We need to get to Stanley!"

They rushed up the stairs, Dipper deflecting the attacks a now enraged Malakh sent their ways. In a way, it was just like avoiding the sustained fire of an angry mob with laser guns, and Ford had done the latter more often than he could count.

Finally, Ford reached his brother's side. Up close, the right half of Stan's face was even worse. Ford's stomach turned when he realized what they must have done to cause such an injury. His eye, what have they done to his eye?

Ford took up his laser cutter, slicing the metal restraints and freeing his brother. Stan made no sound as Ford took him into his arms. His blood turned to ice in his veins; Stanley wasn't even breathing.

"No, no, no," Ford whispered as he checked Stan's pulse. There wasn't one. "Oh, god, please, no…"

Someone next to him gave a soft, pained gasp, which was followed by a sob. Mabel had both of her hands over her mouth, and she was trembling from head to toe. Dipper was kneeling by Ford's side, babbling, "What's wrong with him? Why isn't he moving, why isn't he breathing? He can't be, that makes no sense, no, no, no…"

His sister grabbed Stan's other hand, tears streaking her cheeks. "Not again, not again. Please don't leave us again, Grunkle Stan! Come back, come back!"

Stanley stayed deaf to their pleas.

Stan hung in the air, hovering midpoint between the thing that had once been his body and the great gaping mouth of the portal. It was an oddly comforting sensation, like being rocked by the sways of the waves. How he'd loved swimming in the sea as a boy. It was those long days spent soaking in seawater that had made him want to become a sailor. Stan's mouth twitched into a wistful grin. At least he'd fulfilled that dream, if only for a little while.

He peered behind him. The stars shining from behind the portal were beautiful, in an inviting way. That was something else he'd adored as a child. Ford, ever the little nerd, had learned all the constellations, and he'd taught them to Stan on the rare evenings they'd been allowed to break curfew. And back on the Stan O'War II, they had spent many nights stargazing, a glass of whisky in hand. Stan's smile grew a little fonder.

So? said the Axolotl, and Stan startled a little. He had been so absorbed by his contemplation of the stars that he had forgotten about the pink creature. Are you ready to go?

"Yep," said Stan. "Thanks, by the way. I guess… not being alone makes it easier, yeah?"

I've been with you a long time, Stanley Pines. In case you wanted to call on me.

"Huh." Stan recalled the salamander he thought he'd inherited from Ford, how it had been a constant presence for almost thirty years. "Makes sense. It's like I said to Ford. I was survivin' back then, not livin'."

It changed recently, didn't it? That's why I left. You didn't need me anymore.

Stan could have laughed. He could have cried. "Yeah. It changed, it did."

He turned to leave and then —

STANLEY! a familiar voice screamed.

Stan frowned. Wait, at the edge of his vision, was that…? "Stanford?" It almost felt as if —for a split second —he'd seen a ghostly version of Ford soaring toward him, hand outstretched. "Wait… where is your voice coming from…?"

He was only rewarded with silence.

The children were crying. Spells fizzled and exploded in hundreds of sparks below, while the portal continued to hum ominously above their heads; Ford's hair stood on end as gravity began to weaken. The more energy Malakh supplied the machine, the more instable it would become. Staying so close was definitely unwise.

Ford processed this information with a surprising lack of emotion. Mabel was wailing, face buried in the crook of his shoulder, while Dipper rocked back and forth on his spot, head in hands. Of course they were panicking. Those two were the strongest, kindest, most wonderful people Ford had ever met, but they were also only children.

Ford simply watched them, mind still reeling. He was holding his brother's corpse, but he knew he couldn't give in to grief just yet. The children were counting on him. Stan was counting on him. Ford's high school dropout brother had taught himself quantum physics to save his twin. His twelve-year-old niece and nephew had battled the demons of the Apocalypse to save their uncle. Ford could do the same, would do the same.

A sort of madness took over him, the manic realization that he could stand before the god of death himself and scream in that bastard's face. Stan had surely felt this, the moment he'd decided to face Bill Cipher to protect their family. Yes, Ford was certain of it; it was the urge to revolt against the cruel whims of life, an urge not fuelled by rage but by love.

Ford racked his brain, aware that the solution was certainly hiding in some dark recesses of his mind. He examined memories, processed theories, cast aside possibilities. Ford Pines was not the man who would change the world, no… but could he be the man to defy death itself?

The Oracle had retained hope, and more than anything Ford clung to that. Go to him, quickly! she'd told him. Before it's too late!

Those words were reminiscent of something else she'd said. Something she'd fought to say, even as her body was failing her. His mind strained to remember, but Ford grit his teeth and yanked that memory back from the dark, foggy depths of forgetfulness.

Remember,when he is about to pass on to the next world, reach out for his hand.

She'd pleaded —for him to heed her words, yes, but also to ask for Ford's forgiveness. She'd wanted him to forgive Stan —because she believed he could still be saved.

Ford frowned, taking a better look at his surroundings —he was in the centre of a storm of light, colours and sounds. He remembered this place, this moment. He remembered Stan's scarred face, and words whispered in sad resignation.

Maybe it's better this way…

And then it all became clear in Ford's mind.

"Dipper!" he cried. The boy snapped his gaze upward, still looking on the verge of hyperventilating. "Dipper, my boy, calm down, calm down, listen to my voice…"

Dipper gave fast little nods. Ford gestured at him to come closer, patting the boy's head and using his other hand to bring Mabel closer. She hiccupped as he began to rub her back. Still, her tensions were easing, and soon her sobs grew quieter.

"I know how to save Stan," Ford told Dipper, as calmly as he could, "but I need your help to do so. I need you to cast a spell for me. Do you think you could do that for me, Dipper?"

The boy sniffed, wiping his nose with his sleeve. A few seconds later, and Dipper's shoulders had stopped shaking. "A spell? Well, I think there's enough energy around that I can divert b-back to me, but…. what do you want me to do?"

Ford directed his gaze toward the portal. "I know it's going to sound insane, but…" He managed a slight smile. "Trust me. Just… trust me."

"Stanford?" Stan called again. "S'that you? Are you th —oh."

His eyes (dammit, no! his eye, his one, single, goddamned eye!) found the platform below him. Three people were huddled around Stan's… well, Stan's corpse. Ford was alive, then, he was alive and unharmed, from the looks of it. So were the kids. They were alive and well and they had come for Stan.

It took Stan an eternity to dislodge the lump forming in his throat at the sight of those three faces, to force his mouth to say coherent words. "They came," he said, softly. "They really came for me."

Of course they did, said Axolotl. Isn't it sweet?

If he'd still possessed a body, Stan would probably have felt a dull pang to his chest. "They don't know, do they? About me. About what I am. They wouldn't have come otherwise…"

Why are you so sure of that?

Stan ignored Axolotl's question. Ford was checking the pulse of his discarded meat sack. The children hovered near, and Stan was in prime position to watch their breakdown. Mabel sobbed as she tugged and tugged on Ford's sleeve; Stan could not hear her cries, but he could read her lips. Please, please, please! she said, over and over. Dipper clutched at Ford's coat, making wide gestures. Stan knew the boy like the back of his hand; he recognized the warning signs of one of Dipper's signature panic attacks.

Those two were the strongest, kindest, most wonderful people Stan had ever met. They were also only children.

Stan reached toward them, but, of course, it was futile. Every second he drifted a little further, toward the peace promised by Axolotl.

"Can I get to say goodbye?" Stan said. He hated how desperate he sounded.

Axolotl tilted his head. I don't think so. It's too late already. Taking note of Stan's growing distress, he added, as if that would help, A lot of people die scared or angry. A lot of them pass on without fulfilling their goals or saying goodbye to their loved ones. It won't be any different with you.

Stan hung down his head. "Okay," he said. "Maybe it's better this way…"

There you go! Axolotl said in a disgustingly cheerful voice. If it helps, I'll make sure you're a twin in your next life as well. That worked out nicely in this one, didn't it?

Stan turned his eyes to Ford. His brother was soldiering on, mouth set in a grim line. Of course he had to stay steadfast as a rock; the children were counting on him. Stan smiled. At least, he knew the little gremlins would be in good hands. At least he'd had a few precious months where he had his best friend back.

"Why does it matter what I want?" Stan said. "D'you think someone like me deserves to be happy?"

If you say so, Axolotl conceded, sounding rather nonplussed. Let's go, then!

Stan turned his face toward the portal. A gentle force was pulling him toward the ocean of stars, and Axolotl hovered above, patiently waiting for Stan. Stan's lips formed a rueful smile; that didn't seem so bad, did it?

He tried not to dwell too much on the anguish he'd spied on the children's faces. He tried not to dwell too much on the fact that his one and only twin would be left without a best friend —again. Stan had to let go, just let go –

Something grabbed his hand, and he was yanked backward for a moment.

Ford held on Stan's ghostly hand, tightly, like his life depended on it.

Well, maybe it did. Even though Ford currently weighted nothing, he could feel the pull of the portal keenly. How did that work, exactly? The rational, scientifically inclined side of Ford's brain boggled at the implication.

"I got you, buddy!" Ford said through grit teeth. How could one strain with effort with no body? "Hold on!"

"Wait, what?" Stan said. "S-Stanford? How…?" His eye widened when he caught side of what was happening on the platform below. "Holy shit! Your… your body…"

Ford waved a hand around. "Yes, yes, I've had Dipper astrally project my mind out of my body with magic. We used that spell not long ago to contact —" Ford frowned, suddenly realizing that he was rambling, and that time was running out. "It's not important right now! Come on, Stan! Work with me, will you!"

"But… but…" Stan looked behind, seemingly confused. "Wait, he's gone. Where's…"

"What? Who's gone?"

"It's not…" Stan muttered, "it's not important. Why are you here?"

"To save you, of course! Why would you even ask?"

"Yeah, well…" Stan's face twisted with pain. "Listen… what if… what if I don't deserve it? What if it'd be better to just let me —"

Ford tugged harder. "Don't you dare start with that kind of talk, Stanley Pines," he growled. "There are two children back there who will be brokenhearted if you don't go back to them."

Stan shook his head. "They'll be better off without me. You'll be better off without me. Trust me, I'm not the guy you think I am, I'm not —"

"I know who you are, Stan, you're —"

"No, you don't," Stan said, in a precipitated manner. "I know the sappy stuff that's gonna come out of your mouth, and it's not true. You don't know what I am. What I did. To you, to the kids, to all those damned people I don't even know —"

"I do know the truth," Ford replied, firmly. "So do the kids."

"No," Stan said, bluntly, "you wouldn't have come otherwise, if you knew, you'd just hate me, you'd want me to die —"

"We know the truth, and we can to save you anyway. Do you want to know why?" Ford smiled at his brother. "Do you want the sappy, stupid reason why we fought a bunch of evil cultists to get you back?"

Stan remained silent. There was something heartbreaking about his expression. It was the look, full of suspicion and bitterness, of a mistreated dog who didn't know whether or not he should accept the hand reaching out to pat his head.

"You're our Stan, and not anyone else," Ford said. "You're nothing like him."

"You said I reminded you of him," Stan blurted out. "You said I reminded you of Bill Cipher."

Ford nearly wanted to laugh out loud; god, his nerves were shot. "And yet you're nothing like him! I know this because of the choices you made! Because of the things you think are worth cherishing! Because you've sacrificed your own happiness and wellbeing for the people you love, over and over again! Don't you realize? Your existence is unique across the multiverse! No one else has lived the life that you've had!"

"You… you really think that?"

This time, Ford did laugh. "Stan, I'm about as emotionally constipated as you! Do you think I'm savvy enough to lie to your face about something as important as this?"

A strange sound, half a sob, half a snort, escaped Stan's mouth. "Emotionally constipated? Ex-cuse me, sir, compared to you, I'm about as emotionally open as the dumbasses on those telenovas Soos' grandma likes so much."

"You mean the telenovas you like so much," Ford said. He smirked and added, "Don't worry, the children will never know. Your secret is safe with me."

"Oh my god," Stan said, scowling. "Is it really the time to be busting my balls about that?"

Ford shot him a distressed look. "Stan, I'm sorry, I didn't mean —" He stopped, however, when he caught sight of Stan's expression. Not a second later, and both brothers were laughing, madly, in a manner that would have made their sides ache had they been in their physical bodies.

How long did they stay there, hand in hand, laughing uproariously? Time seemed to still, if only to give them this moment.

Finally, Ford stopped laughing. He wiped ears off his eyes —what, was he still crying, even out of his body? What a strange experience…

Stan smiled at him. Then, his brows knitted into a slight frown. "Wait… are we still drifting?"

Ford's own dopey grin immediately dissipated. He looked behind him, where Dipper and Mabel were huddled around his and Stan's bodies. They seemed a little further away than they had been previously. "Oh, no," he said. "Oh, no, no, no…"

"What do we do, Ford?!" Stan said. "At this rate, we'll —"

A strange, whooshing sound came from behind Ford, and something grabbed his hand. Ford startled, and he found himself staring at a familiar, braced-filled grin.

"Mabel to the rescue!" the girl exclaimed. "Thank goodness I got here in time!"

"Sweetie, no! You shouldn't have come!" Ford shouted in alarm. "It's dangerous —" He stopped, finally noticing that her other hand was holding her grappling hook—or, rather, its manifestation in the immaterial realm. The magnetized hook held on fast to the metallic contraption where Stan's body was lying, keeping her from drifting too far away.

"Wait, how did you manifest a grappling hook in spirit form?" Ford asked her.

"Well, Dipper told me I just had to think really hard about having a grappling hook before going in," she explained. "As he said, if the clothes we wear in the real world appear when we're in spirit form, why would it be any different for other objects?"

Ford laughed in delight. "Have I told you just how amazing you are? Both of you?"

"Aww, I love you too, Grunkle Ford!"

"Why is it that we always get saved by a pair of thirteen-year-olds?" Stan muttered. "Are we that dumb?"

"Maybe those thirteen-year-olds are just very talented and exceptional," Ford said.

"Maybe it's a bit of both!" Mabel said cheerfully, completely ignoring the wince Stan threw her way. Her little face grew serious. "Well, you can spend all the time you'd like praising me later, but right now we really should be going."

Ford squeezed her hand. "Lead the way, my dear. Lead the way."

Ford's eyes snapped open. Where was he? What was this weight lying in his lap? Why was there fireworks going off in the distance? Someone was shouting and —

Ford sat up so abruptly he nearly felt nauseous. Next to him, Dipper gave a little yelp.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," the boy sputtered. "You're finally up —both of you."

"Both of…" Ford checked beside him; Mabel was rubbing her eyes, groaning all the while. In his arms, Stan had not moved. For a moment, Ford's world seemed to crawl to a stop. He could still hear Jhelselbraum and Malakh fighting in the distance, and yet Ford didn't care. Stan was not moving. Ford blinked back tears as he gently rocked his brother's inert form.

Finally, mercifully, Stan's eye fluttered open. Ford found himself letting out a sound that was half a sob, half a laugh.

"Ugh," Stan said with a wince. "Why am I waking up to your ugly mug…"

Ford managed enough indignation to sputter, "That's the first thing you say to me?! We're… we're identical twins, you moron!"

"GRUNKLE STAN!" both children exclaimed in unison.

Stan wheezed as the twins pounced on him. "Oof! S-Stop crying… all of you… ugh… don't hug me… so tight… can't breathe…"

Of course Dipper and Mabel did not listen to him. They held on tight, sobs turning to laughter. Stan glanced at Ford, who smiled at him, as to say, 'See? What did I tell you?' Stan frowned a little, still looking unsure, but at least he returned the children's embrace. Eventually, a contented smile formed on his lips.

This tender moment did not last. Ford was feeling a strange sort of weightlessness —one that was dreadfully familiar. His eyes snapped to the portal above, and his mouth grew dry.

"We've got to go!" he exclaimed, helping Stan to his feet. "All that energy… it's making the portal too unstable!"

The children scrambled down the stairs, yelping as the portal pulled them away from the steps. Ford managed to catch Dipper and Mabel under one arm before they could drift away. In his other arm, he clutched Stanley, not willing to let go.

"Hang on to me!" Ford shouted. "Mabel, we'll use your grappling hook and my boots to get us away from the portal!"

She nodded, firing toward one of the columns on the outermost part of the hall. The grappling hook strained to pull their weights forward. Letting out a curse through grit teeth, Ford engaged his rocket boots to give them the necessary boost to get out of the portal's range. They soared past Jheselbraum and Malakh, the two women still lost in the frenzy of their fight.

Then a booming sound tore through the room, and Ford felt the heat of the explosion pushing them beyond the column —pushing them right outside the temple, hundreds of feet in the air. The children screamed, and Ford's heart leaped in his mouth. Once again, Stanford Pines was plummeting to his death alongside his family.

This time, however, Ford absolutely refused to accept this cruel turn of events.

Ford crushed the children and Stan to his chest, burning every last ounce of energy stored within his boots to launch them back to the top floor of the tower. The boots sputtered and struggled, and a near unsupportable heat flared around Ford's feet. He cried out in pain as the four of them landed in a crumpled heap on the top part of the tower. Still, he did not open his arms, holding on tight to his family.

Smoke had filled the hall, the dark haze sometimes brightly lit by flashes of lightning coming off the remains of the portal. With some difficulty, Ford spied the forms of two women. Malakh was hunched over, hacking and wheezing, supporting herself with her staff. Jheselbraum was kneeling on the ground, panting heavily.

She was the first to move, advancing toward Malakh with tentative steps. The green-skinned priestess snarled, holding her staff forward. Her legs gave way under her, and she toppled to the ground. Jheselbraum rushed forward to catch the younger woman in her fall.

"Don't touch me!" Malakh shrieked. She scratched at Jheselbraum, fighting her embrace. "Get away from me!"

"Shh," the Oracle said simply, caressing Malakh's long, messy hair. "It's alright, child, it's alright."

"Don't you dare!" Malakh growled in response. "I don't need your pity!"

"Then you do not have it," said Jheselbraum. "You have, however, the full extent of my forgiveness."

Malakh stopped pushing her away, evidently exhausted. Still, she let out a piercing, keening wail that rippled through the room. Jheselbraum patted her back, easing them both to the ground.

A weight seemed to have been lifted off Ford's shoulders. The husk of the portal should have filled him with dread and despair. He should have screamed and sobbed and raged. Yet, he only found himself sitting contently on the ground, arms wrapped around his family.

"The portal," Stan muttered, breaking the spellbound moment. "It's gone. You… you guys can't go home." Because of me. Stan hadn't said it, but the words were evident in the sorrowful expression showing on his face.

Ford smiled at him. "As you well know, Stanley, portals can be repaired. Your life, however, is irreplaceable."

For a moment, Ford's brother only looked at him in silence. Then, he turned his face away and simply started to sob. Ford and the children held on to him; words were no longer necessary.