"Goodbye, Beatrice."

"Goodbye, Wirt."

He was floating.

It reminded him of that feeling you got when you stepped out of an elevator or a boat or a plane and the ground was rolling under your feet.

It was disorienting and he frowned, willed his body to move away from the uncomfortable sensation.

His fingers twitched slowly. That small motion leaving him exhausted and breathless.

His body felt like it was made of lead. Each movement a herculean effort as he forced his leaden limbs to cooperate. Why was he so stiff? He didn't remember doing anything super strenuous but he must have. He felt like he'd run halfway across the town carrying a bowling ball, his arms and legs were so sore.

No scratch that.

His whole body was sore, feeling like one giant bruise; everything ached.

He felt like he could sleep for a hundred years; he was so exhausted. Let him sleep until he felt better, more like himself.

That sounded nice.

He thought longingly of his bed with its warm, thick green comforter and his soft pillows and the cozy space heater his parents had placed by his bed.

Wirt almost sighed at the thought.

Snuggling into his bed sounded absolutely wonderful.

He was just so cold.

Freezing air surrounded him like he was locked in a freezer, the cold painful and biting.

But, his nose wrinkled, there was something wrong with that thought. Air wasn't usually so… wet. And air definitely didn't make him feel like he was floating or make him feel like his lungs were burning, shriveling up inside him.

He sucked in an instinctive breath and immediately began choking.

His eyes flew open, freezing water stinging his eyes, as he flailed.

Why was he here? Where even was here? Was he alone? Was someone else in this watery grave with him? The last thing he could remember was a wall and blinding light and falling fallingfallingfalling .

Another breath reminded him that he should focus on trying to reach the surface.

But what if someone was here with him.

Would he be leaving someone to die?

Giving them a one-way ticket on an old black train.

He stiffened.

There had been someone with him, standing frozen in that blinding light.

He had grabbed them and jumped.

Greg!

Where was he?

The water was pitch black. He spun in circles, desperately peering into the gloom for any hint of his ha- his brother.

Adrenaline filled his veins, giving him the strength to move his limbs.

Groping blindly, he felt around the water, panic filling him when he felt nothing around him.

He couldn't have sunk to the bottom, right?

Wirt didn't know what to do; he was starting to feel lightheaded, lungs burning, panic flaring brighter the longer he came up empty handed.

His fingers brushed something smooth and slimy. He recoiled instinctively before determinedly stretching his hand forward again. What had he hit? It was cold and slimy to the touch and Wirt very much didn't want to be touching it but something was nagging at his brain.

What is slimy and floats?

A mossy rock?

A fish?

A frog?

Jason Funderburker!

Greg must be nearby!

With renewed vigor, he grabbed the frog and waved his arms around frantically to find Greg.

His heart lurched in relief when his fingers hit fabric.

Grabbing his overall strap in a tight fist he clutched both boy and frog close to him and fought toward the surface.

Progress was slow going.

His limbs seemed to have gotten even heavier if that was possible. Greg and Jason Funderburker were dead weight in his arms, pulling him further down; he kicked furiously towards the surface.

He cursed mentally.

One small frog and one little boy shouldn't weigh so much.

His lungs were burning, spasming, water filled his lungs in increasing intervals. His head was pounding from the lack of oxygen and he kept inadvertently breathing. The urge to stop and cough unceasingly was overwhelming. Tears streamed from his eyes from the stinging water and from holding his breath for so long.

After an eternity he could see the shine of the night sky above him.

The oblivious stars twinkling merrily down at him as he eagerly broke the surface, hacking. Greg eerily silent and still in his arms.

Shifting him to rest against his back, Wirt stumbled through the muddy bank, his wet shoes squelching and slipping in the unstable surface.

It was harder to walk up the shore than it was to swim up.

Each step was halting and heavy.

He collapsed to the ground, his arms dropping Greg and the frog.

He was too tired.

At least hopefully they wouldn't drown in the waves.

He was out before he could hear the shouts.


He wasn't floating anymore.

There was fabric bunched underneath and laying on top of him.

His fingers rubbed across the material.

It was kind of rough but not uncomfortable.

"Wirt!" called a voice. He thought he recognized it. "Wirt, come on. Open your eyes."

Were they not already?

He guessed not.

The first attempt resulted in him immediately shutting them again.

There was a bright light that hurt his eyes.

The second attempt was much more successful and the light wasn't as painful.

Sara's face hovered over his. There were others too. All crowded around his bed.

"Greg," he croaked.

In a panic, he tried to lift himself up but his arms were shaking and infantile in their strength. He flopped back down onto the bed.

"Greg!" He half-shouted. "Where's Greg?"

"He's right here, Wirt."

Sara pointed over at the group of teenagers listening avidly to Greg telling their story.

He was holding Jason Funderburker the frog.

He had been changed into cozy, blue hospital pajamas, his cheeks flushed pleasantly pink from the warmth they provided. His hair had even been combed.

It lay in smooth ringlets around his ears rather than sticking up at all angles like the untamable mess it usually was.

Wirt hiccuped in relief.

He didn't look like someone who had almost drowned.

He looked like a normal little boy all dressed and ready for bed.

Wirt didn't let himself think that he probably had died at one point. When he'd turned partway into an edelwood tree. Wirt had probably been dead for a minute there too.

But somehow, for some reason, they had survived.

"Greg," Wirt beckoned, relief softening his face. "Come here."

"Oh boy," Greg exclaimed immediately tottering across the room, Jason Funderburker their frog placed gently on the foot of the bed. The frog immediately burrowing under the covers and settling down for the night.

Greg eagerly clambered onto the bed.

All the shaking it caused put him in a world of hurt but he had more important things on his mind.

Pulling him up close to his chest he hugged Greg tightly, burying his face in his hair.

He inhaled, breathing in his clean scent; he pulled back when tears sprang unbidden to his eyes.

He sniffled, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his pajamas. He grinned shakily when Sara patted his shoulder promising to call him in the morning then followed the rest of his friends out of the room to give the two brothers their privacy.

"Are you okay, Wirt?" Greg questioned, his eyes wide with worry.

" 'm fine," Wirt cried. "I'm sorry, Greg. I'm sorry for everything. It was my fault we ended up in the Unknown. I've been a terrible brother-" he choked on a sob.

"No!" Greg denied.

Wirt jerked back, startled at the force of his shout, at the steadfast conviction Greg had for him.

"You've been the best brother! You were great Wirt! You sang a song and rode a horse and fought a gorilla and played music for all the fancy frogs and you saved the day! Twice!" Greg kneeled by his side, tiny palms pressing against the sides of Wirt's face. "You saved us, Wirt! You got us home! Just like you said you would! I couldn't ask for a better brother! So don't say mean things about yourself or I'll have to give you the old one-two," Greg held up his fists in emphasis, pretending to jab them into Wirt's arm.

"But-"

"Nope, I'm right," Greg stated matter of factly. "You should listen to me."

Wirt rolled his eyes, the heartfelt moment dissipating into the wind.

"Greg-"

"Shh."

"You shhh."

They giggled rolling over in the bed.

Wirt pulled the covers up over both of their heads; creating a makeshift fort.

"I've got you," he murmured quietly, "I promise I'll be better."

Greg patted his wrist sleepily, "It's okay, Wirt. You were a good leader, but you can be better if you want to be."

Wirt watched as Greg fell asleep.

Greg was a different person asleep. The usual veracity of life that so annoyed him turned into innocence and peacefulness.

He vowed to himself that he would be a better brother, the one that Greg needed him to be.

And that's a rock fact.