Stanford had talked on and on for so long, doing everything he could to keep Hephzibah's eyes open, but soon they slowly shut and Stanford decided to let her rest. He held her hand so he could feel her pulse, the only clue that she was still alive.

Stanley and Fiddleford rowed as much as they could, but with the short pieces of wood splashing freezing water onto their hands, they had to take a lot of breaks and keep their hands warm. The men were still wet and now their hair and clothes were starting to freeze. How odd, to crunch your hair like it had hairspray or moose in it, but to find it melt like ice in your hand. An unusual feeling, to have your clothes harden over your chilling skin.

It was silent now. There were no more screams. The others who had been given rafts had gone missing when the Titanic crashed, working fast to leave, just like the lifeboats. Fiddleford, Stanley, Stanford, and Hephzibah were the only ones that stayed and now they may have to pay the ultimate price if they weren't careful. They were still wet. They were still cold. They could still die.

Fiddleford had his forehead on his knees, his head down, praying under his breath for help to please come and take them away from this Hell on Earth. Stanley hugged his knees and looked ahead, forcing himself to daydream of something better than this. He played fond childhood memories in his mind, running barefoot on the beach with his twin, making jokes, playing games, and dreaming or a better tomorrow. Stanley really hadn't changed much since he was a kid. Stanford had slowly come to a stop with his words, no longer talking of their plans or even talking at all, but he still petted Hephzibah's forehead and looked down at her, though his eyes did not see. It was like Stanford's brain had frozen solid. It was like Stanford's mind had obtained so much stuff in so little time that now it had paused itself. He couldn't think, or talk, or even more. He doubted he could move his legs; they felt so cold and numb. It was a wonder he could move his right hand to keep petting Hephzibah. It felt like it was the only movement he was capable of.

There was a small light up ahead. A tiny, minuscule light that could have been passed off as a low star, but Stanley dared to hope and he took a closer look. He squinted his eyes ahead and he recognized the source of that light: a far away flashlight. Stanley tried to say a word, but no sound escaped his throat. He put a hand to his throat, rubbed, and tried to speak, but all he could manage was a strained noise. Stanley coughed weakly. Stanford looked up at his brother, concerned, but then his eye caught the light ahead.

"Hephzi… Hephzibah." Stanford breathed, his voice nearly gone due to the cold. His throat was almost frozen over, like his twin's, but he had to try to speak. "There's a boat. Help is coming."

But Hephzibah did not stir. She laid quietly in his lap. Her pulse couldn't be felt.

Stanford's heart skipped a beat. He looked down at her and prayed that he was wrong. "Hephzibah? Hephzibah. Please." He could hardly hear his own voice now, but he had to try. "Hephzibah, someone's here."

Nothing. Pure silence. Stanley and Stanford both looked ahead. They could hear distant voices up ahead. The boat, or whatever was making the light, was still very far away. They needed help now. Stanley tried to cough or clear his throat, but he couldn't even do that. He slowly stood up, his limbs shaking and his body weak, but he managed by leaning on Fiddleford, who was in some sort of trance in his fetal position. Stanley waved to them, but they still couldn't be seen.

"Please… please…" Stanford breathed so quietly that not even Stanley could hear him. He took in a deep breath and tried again. "Help… help… help us…" His voice was as strained as he could make it, but it still wasn't loud enough.

"Stanford…"

He looked down, in shock, and was overjoyed to hear her voice one more time, even if it was hardly a breath.

"...ca…"

Stanford rummaged into the pocket of Hephzibah's pants and finally felt it. It froze his fingertips, but this golden harmonica would save their lives. Stanford blew into it, a chorus of musical notes escaping into the night air, and Stanley grinned weakly, given the strength he needed to keep on waving. Fiddleford snapped out of it, lifted his head, and waved his arms for help. Stanford learned quickly how to blow an off-key, high-pitched note, and he blew as hard as he could into the instrument.

"Full steam ahead! Keep rowing!"

Stanford kept on blowing. He didn't care that he was lightheaded. He was the only voice they had. If Hephzibah was going to live, he had to keep playing the harmonica, altering the rescuers of their location. Stanford blew as the light came closer. Stanley and Fiddleford eventually relaxed their limbs and breathed easier.

"Easy, lads, easy! Keep rowing! Careful!"

Stanford didn't stop. He kept playing Hephzibah's harmonica like a whistle. The boat was now visible behind the flashlight. Stanford felt a wave of peace overcome him, and the last thing he became aware of before fainting was a pair of hands that caught him.

He was warm. And on his back. He could feel his body, like it was his own again. His senses were slow to come back, but he could smell the saltwater and hear the quiet commotion of a big group of people. The sun was kissing his skin. He tried to open his eyes, but it burned too much to do so. He slowly freed a polydactyl hand from under the blanket and shielded his eyes. No one had removed his glasses. And then he was tackled into a familiar bear hug.

"Don't you EVER scare me like that again, you jerk!"

Stanford moaned as his windpipes were being crushed by his brother's tight hold, but he managed to free his arms to return the hug. "It's good to see you, too, Knucklehead." Stanford then jerked out of the hug and held Stanley by the forearms to look him in the eye. "Where is Hephzibah?!"

Stanley smiled sympathetically at his twin and patted his hands. "Geez, calm down, she's fine. They just gave her a room."

"They?"

"Yeah," Stanley gestured to the ship around them, on his knees by his brother's side. Stanford wondered briefly if Stanley had stayed by his side ever since they got on the new boat. "Welcome to the Carpathia. You passed out just before Lowe and his men got to us. We got everyone on board and then looked for more survivors before heading off. We've been on the Carpathia for maybe half an hour."

"Was… was there anyone still alive?"

Stnaley's face dropped and he looked down a little in grief. "If there were they were the ones with rafts. I… I saw it with my own eyes. Fidds vomited again. It was… the lifeboats didn't wanna come back. Said it was too risky, people might tip the boat, but Lowe made everyone but volunteers get off his boat and he went back for survivors. Maybe if they had gotten there sooner..."

"Maybe if the Titanic had carried enough lifeboats." Stanford said darkly.

"Maybe if the Titanic had never hit that damn iceberg."

Stanford looked around, taking it all in. It was like when they were building rafts on the Titanic. People of all backgrounds, genders, and ages were helping each other and doing whatever they could. One little girl gave a younger girl her doll; the younger girl sobbed into the toy and the little girl hugged her as they both cried. People were hugging and holding each other for warmth and comfort. Butlers and waitresses were passing around coffee and hot coco. One passenger of the Carpathia was sharing his cigarettes with anyone who wanted one. Life-vests were being piled up high. Blankets and coats were being shared. Most people baked in the sun to dry like laundry, like Stanford probably had been, and some people were being carried or walked into the boat. Stanford caught sight of Fiddleford, who was pale and shaking so bad he might fall over, but despite that he was doing everything he could to help, currently watching a mother's children as she begged a worker to check the list of survivors one more time, because her husband did live and was on this ship!

Stanford looked back at Stanley as he started to get up. "I need to see Hephzibah."

"Ford, she's fine. She's…"

"I don't care. I won't rest until I see her."

"Okay, okay, just… whoa! Hold on, Poindexter, give me your arm." Stanley took one of Stanford's hands and helped hoist his arm over his shoulders. Stanley then helped Stanford get up on his feet, and after a few steps, Stanford found he could walk just fine on his own.

"Wait!" Stanford jumped and looked back at the blanket he had abandoned for any sign of gold. "Where is Hephzibah's harmonica?!"

"Oh!" Stanley dug around the pocket of his coat and pulled it out. "Here, sorry. It almost fell overboard when you passed out, but then I remembered how overprotective of it you got when Hephzie offered to sell it, so I pocketed it for you."

Stanford sighed with relief and pocketed it in his trenchcoat. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"No, I mean it. Thank you, Stanley, for everything. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

"Seriously, Ford, forget it." Stanley said and patted his back.

"Just let me say it, Knucklehead." Stanford said irritably and they stopped their walking for a moment. "I… just… thank you, not just for helping with the rafts or for getting help or for trying to find survivors, but for everything you've done for me before the iceberg. I want to thank you for going on this cursed trip with me, for lying to Pa for me, and for being the only person in this whole world I can trust to support Hephzibah and I's relationship."

Stanley squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with his fist. "Damn it, Ford, quit it. I mean, c'mon, you would've done the same for me. We're family, we stick together. I've got your back, Sixer, you can trust me. And, for the record, Hephzie's pretty cool. Almost too cool for you."

Stanford chuckled and rubbed his neck. "You're probably right."

"Meh. Not this time. Now let's get you two love birds back together, huh?"

"I don't believe it."

"Huh? Don't believe what?"

"Stanley."

Stanley recognized the way Stanford said his name. He looked ahead, and there, climbing down the stairs from the second floor, a sleeve of his suit completely torn off and his stupid fedora missing but his stupid sunglasses still on his stupid face, was Pa. He actually stopped when he saw his sons and all three Pines men had the identical facial expression on their face, an expression made purely out of shock.

Stanley, the loud mouth of the family, broke the silence first. "How in Moses' name did you survive?"

Pa scowled at the question and stepped off the small stairwell. "I got on a lifeboat with a little girl I found huddled on a bench. Now, how in Moses' name did you two…"

"Hephzibah saved us." Stanford said coldly.

"And about a hundred people. Maybe more." Stanley added. "They're still searching for drifters."

Pa crossed his arms over his chest. "I see."

There was silence. Well, that's not true. There were still wails in the distance from distraught women and children. There was still the quiet whisper of the wind. There was still the clicking of shoes on wood. There was still the voices of workers who were trying to help the few passengers of the titanic that survived. But the Pines were quiet, waiting on someone to speak their mind first, but they were stubborn and uncomfortable talking about their feelings, so instead they stated the facts.

"Pa," Stanford said in a firm voice, laying down the law for the first time in his life. "I'm going to marry Hephzibah once we get back to America. I'm leaving home and I'm going with her. From now on, I'm going to live every day like it's my last, and that means doing what makes me happy, and I'm sorry, but that doesn't include selling my freedom for millions of dollars just to please someone that can never be pleased."

Pa gritted his teeth. His fists tightened. His sons braced for a punch to be thrown. Instead, he growled in a deadly tone, "Fine." His eyes averted to Stanley. "As for you… do what you want. I don't care." And he walked past his sons like they were strangers.

They were both still, stunned by how easy it was. Had it always been so easy? Had they always mattered so little to their father that all they had to do was make it clear that they didn't want the same life he wanted, and they would be cut loose? It had been clear since they were kids that it was that easy with Stanley; Filbrick gave up on Stanley a long time ago, only keeping him around because he was obligated to and because Ma still saw some worth in her son. Stanford, on the other hand, was a different story; Stanford had always been afraid of Filbrick putting up a fight or forcing Stanford to make having him around worth it, but it turned out that Stanford had been wrong this whole time. He didn't know if he should be relieved or sad that it was so easy for his own father to break ties with him. Oh, well. He had more pressing matters to deal with.

"Where is Hephzibah?" Stanford asked, leading the way temporarily up to the second floor of the Carpathia.

Stanley followed once he snapped out of it, and when they got to the second floor, he led the way. "Over here."

Many rooms on the Carpathia were already full, but people were actually willing to give up their rooms or share with strangers in order to give to those in need. Stanley and Stanford went inside the Carpathia and down a crowded hall. People were moving luggage around, or carrying blankets, or delivering trays of food. Stanley then opened a door and let Stanford walk in.

It was a second-class room. It had a cozy queen-sized bed, a chair and a desk, and a little washroom to the side. It wasn't as nice as the suite the Pines had on the Titanic, but it was certainly better than Hephzibah's previous room. A tiny window had it's curtains drawn back to let in the sunshine. Hephzibah laid in her warm bed, hot plans pressed in between the sheets to warn her body, the blankets up to her chin, but with only her boots and Stanford's lent trenchcoat visible on the desk's chair, it was to be assumed that she was still dressed in her old clothes.

Stanford found himself to be weak again. Hephzibah's skin was pale. Her eyes seemed to be sunken in somehow, or maybe the bags under her eyes had only grown. Her dreadlocks were down, melted from their frozen-rope-hold, and, from what Stanford could tell, she was sleeping soundly. Stanford didn't know what to do with himself. All he knew was that he had to be near her. He slowly walked up to the bed as Stanley closed the door behind them and Stanford pulled the desk's chair up to the head of the bed, the damp trenchcoat over one arm and Hephzibah's boots scattered on the floor.

Stanford wanted to hold her hand, but her body was tucked into the bed so tightly that it would be cruel to pull her arm out from the warmth of the bed, so he settled for petting her forehead. Oh, thank God, her beautiful dark skin was warm!

Hephzibah stirred at her fiancé's touch. Stanford paused and Stanley watched happily from the closed door to give the two their space. Slowly, Hephzibah opened her tired eyes and saw who had come to pay her a visit. "Stanford…"

"Oh my God, Hephzibah." Stanford said quietly with a tight throat. He swallowed, making his Adam's Apple bobble, and he smoothed her forehead gently. "You're… you're going to be okay. You're going to be alright."

"Wh-Where are we?"

"The Carpathia. It's alright. Everything is alright now." Stanford leaned forward and kissed her forehead to seal the promise.

"I know." Hephzibah said, her strength returning, and she freed her left arm from the sheets so it laid by her side and she held Stanford's offered hand. Her eyes averted to Stanley and her smile grew. "I'm just glad y'all are okay."

"Thanks to you." Stanley corrected.

"C'mon, y'all know it was a team effort."

"Well, we're gonna need more of that awesome teamwork stuff once we're out on that boat and on our own."

Hephzibah thought of something else, and then looked to Stanford. "Do ya still have my…"

Stanford pulled out the golden instrument and laid it in the palm of his hand. It sparkled in the early-morning sunlight. Hephzibah grinned and sat up. "Stanley saved it." Stanford explained as his fiancée as she awed at the fact that her one treasure had been saved.

"Thank you." She breathed. "Thank you very much." Hephzibah took it gently, cupping the cold metal until it became warm, and knowing that it would make her feel better, and make others feel better, she put the harmonica to her lips and played a song, no longer intending to use it as a whistle.

Stanford sighed in relief as the music swept over the room. He leaned forward and crossed his arms on the edge of Hephzibah's bed, and then rested his cleft chin on his limbs. Stanley sat at the foot of her bed and listened blissfully. He hadn't felt this relaxed since he was asleep in a warm bed the night before. He was tired, so very tired. As the harmonica sang, Stanley slid off the bed and sat against it, leaning back and falling asleep. Stanford closed his eyes and began to do the same, his glasses still on his face, but this time, when he rested, he was doing so peacefully and bathed in the warmth of others, not just in the sunlight and dry clothes.

Liz's smile was unlike anything Ford had ever seen. Then again, in all of his years, he had never seen two smiles that looked the same. Liz's smile held relief, amazement, and a hint of anticipation to hear more. Ford decided that he had had enough of leading the conversation and that he missed her voice, so he waited for the young woman to speak.

Liz swallowed, and then she said slowly, "There were… two-thousand, two-hundred and nine people on the Titanic."

Ford nodded with a kind smile, the kind that most old men seem capable of giving, the kind that hugged your spirit and encouraged you.

"There were… only around eight-hundred survivors?" Liz guessed, unsure if her number was accurate.

Ford, however, had a head for numbers and remembered. "Eight-hundred and ten. One hundred and three were either rescued by Lowe or were discovered by the Carpathia, all were on rafts."

"So, you, Stan, Fiddleford, and Hephzie saved over a hundred lives that night." Liz awed and wrote these numbers down in her journal.

Ford chuckled. "It was a team effort. If it wasn't for Lowe, the people on rafts, including us, might have frozen to death. Building rafts might have been Hephzie's idea and Stan and I may have been in charge of building them, but you must remember that nearly everyone who left on a raft helped in some way. Some people helped and didn't survive. A small group of men drowned while trying to get materials. Just like how many different factors played in the Titanic's sinking, many factors played in the survival of others."

Liz, nodded, understand, but then she wondered why she had never heard such a brave story like this until now. "Ford, how come this wasn't in the papers or on the news? I mean, four people working hard to save over a hundred lives."

Ford chuckled. "Ah, that was actually my idea. I anticipated the overwhelming arrival back to America and the idea alone made my head spin. I admitted to Hephzie, Stan, and Fiddleford that I was tired of being publicized, and I was surprised when they agreed with me. Hephzie said that, after everything that happened, all she wanted was to get to work on our future in peace, so we slipped away with Ma, Pa and Shermie as quick as we could to avoid the newspapers once our names were documented. Later that night, Stan and I said goodbye to Ma and went back to New York to find Hephzie."

"Did you ever get your boat?" Liz asked with an excited grin.

Ford couldn't help but chuckle over her again. "Yes, we all worked very hard and only ate two meals a day, but by the beginning of July, the Stan O' War was completed. The next day, Hephzie and I were married at the courthouse in our finest clothes, with only Stan as our audience, and that afternoon we sailed away from New York to start our new life together. We did what we said we would do." Ford then heard the familiar sound of a car pulling up to the house. "Oh, Stanley and Hephzibah are finally home." He remarked. "They were out picking up my great-niece and nephew; they're spending the summer with us, as they always do. You're more than welcome to stay for dinner and meet them, if you would like."

"Thank you very much!" Liz said, grateful and excited, and looked at the photographs that decorated the living room. Black and white photos of Ford and Hephzie in their nicest clothes in front of a new boat with Stan, an accumulating pictures of children and grandchildren informed Liz that the Pines had indeed done what they had set out to do. She had always known the ending based on her keen sensing of observation, but she was more than happy to learn of how it came to be. "I guess your story has a happy ending, huh?"

Ford shrugged. "Well, that's for you to decide. It's your story, now."

The door flew open.

"We're home!"

"And you'll never believe who we found at the bus stop!"

"Grunkle Ford!"

Ford was suddenly hugged by two twin teenagers, one girl and one boy. Ford hugged them back tightly, one arm wrapped around the other, and he grinned happily at their arrival as they looked down at the old man sitting on the couch. "Mabel! Dipper! It's so good to see you! You're almost as tall as me."

"I'm finally taller than Mabel!"

"My one centimeter!"

"Hey, hey!" Stan warned, an eight-ball cane in his hand and his keys in his other hand. "Don't get… short with your brother!"

"Oh, the irony." Dipper sighed.

Liz smiled, but was more interested in seeing Hephzie. She appeared from the hallway, her dreadlocks charcoal-gray and a few wrinkles under her eyes, but otherwise she looked just as youthful as she did in that photo that was taken on her wedding day.

Hephzie walked up to her husband and kissed his cheek. She then turned to look at Liz and smiled. "Hi, ya must be Elizabeth!"

"Y-yes, ma'am." Liz stuttered and shook her hand. "It's… wow. It's an honor to meet you."

Hephzie rounded on her husband in a playfully-scolding manner. "What did you tell this gurl?!"

"Only about our experience on the Titanic, darling." Ford said with a roll of his eyes.

Liz giggled under her breath over the old couple's playful bickering and said, "Your husband's an amazing storyteller."

"Thanks. Our four kids seem to think so."

"Oh, you're Elizabeth Martel?"

"Yeah. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Dipper."

"Oooooooooooooooooh!"

"Quit it, Mabel."

"Alright, so what'll it be? Spaghetti or fried fish?"

"If we want fish we'll have to catch it today, Stanley."

"Hey, we never had a problem doing it before."

"I wanna teach Elizabeth how to fish!"

"Alright, anyone who wants to eat get in the car!"

The younger pair of twins raced to the red Diablo. Stan twirled his keys on his fingers as he laughed at his brother's grandchildren. Liz started to chat with Hephzie as they walked out the door. Ford was the last one to leave the shack. After so many years of traveling at sea, they wanted a place where they could have a non-moving home and still have that sense of adventure, so they had moved to one of the newer states, Oregon, and found a little back-woods town with some of the most unusual creatures and people they had ever encountered. With a warm excitement to share that with Liz and to relive with Dipper and Mabel again, Ford smiled at his home and closed the door behind him to join his family.

THE END