While the kids were working the Mystery Shack and getting it into full swing, Stanley had cut off his mullet in the bathroom. Something caught his attention though and he paused to pull back his undershirt and see more clearly.

The burn scar was missing.

It seemed weird. He could almost still see it. Thinking back, he could remember the searing pain from being hit against that desk. He sighed a little and stood back to think over how he and Ford were fighting way back when. It almost felt silly now. ..almost.

"Some brother you turned out to be…", he remembered saying. "You care more about your dumb mysteries than your family? Than you can keep them!"

Stan sighed and couldn't help but wonder what Ford was up to or what he thought about all this.

Ford was digging through drawer after drawer, pulling out thick stacks of paper and flipping only two or three of them before determining that they weren't what he was looking for and he sat them aside. Ford groaned a little and brushed back his hair, trying to think back to where he could've set them. He sat back in his chair and rubbed his forehead.

'…I couldn't have gotten rid of them..', he thought to himself. 'I don't like to get rid of anything. I know, I'm a bit of a pack-rat. But it was all very important to research.'

Ford couldn't help but notice the mirror covered with a tarp in his room. Curiosity couldn't help but sweep by and he decided to walk over and pull back enough to look back at his younger reflection. It almost startled him but after a moment to adjust, he mentally compared it to that of what he was really supposed to look like.

"When did we become old men?"

Ford sighed to himself. He thought back to how much things had changed since he was just a kid.

"Where ever we go, we go together.", Stanley promised him way back in their childhood.

"It was supposed to be you and me forever, you ruined my life!", it seemed to obliterate such an innocent childhood, as Ford remembered their fight.

He felt a pang of regret, especially recalling the burn Stanley received when Ford kicked him.

'I have hoped he had that treated..', Ford sighed.

It didn't fly over his head that Stanley might've not had the money to see a proper doctor with a burn like that. But understanding he had survived well into his late 60's and still seemed healthy, Ford had tried not to think much of it. Yet now, here he was, analyzing their fight and something didn't settle right with him. He couldn't even recall when it all began, why they started shouting at each other to begin with. It felt like a blur in his mind.

Ford sighed and rubbed his eyes.

'I need to get back on track.', he thought. 'Now let's see… They have to be here somewhere…'

While Dipper and Mabel were entertaining tourists, Stanley kept to the house-section of the shack and wandered about, somewhat bored. On his way by the bedroom, he heard a rustle of paper and Ford groaning in frustration. Stanley couldn't help but be curious enough to backtrack himself and peek in.

Ford was sitting in the middle of the floor, virtually swamped by folders, scrolls, books, and loose paper all around him.

"…Hey.", Stanley called in.

Ford twisted around to see Lee in the door and gave a small nod.

"Yes?", he asked, deciding to shrug off any comment about Stan's less-than-professional hair cut.

"Um..", Stan walked in and looked around at nothing in particular, feeling a little awkward. "…Don't suppose you'd like some help?"

"Well it's no offense to you, Stanley, but to be frank, it's probably too nerdy for you to understand.", Ford explained indifferently. "I doubt I'd be able to even properly explain to you what it is I'm looking for exactly."

At this, Stanley couldn't help but frown some and he leaned against the doorway while Ford turned back to shuffling through papers.

"…Did it ever occur to you that over 30 years, I actually took the time to study a bunch of science stuff to at least TRY to figure out your portal?", Stan remarked.

"Really?", he tried to sound sarcastic, but he sounded more uncaring by accident.

"…YEAH. REALLY.", Stan's nerves started to become grated from Ford's belittlement.

Ford sighed, hating to be interrupted, and turned back to look at Stan again.

"So..? What's the point?", he asked. "This is magic, not science."

"SO, my point is that maybe I'm not as dumb as you think anymore.", Stanley frowned more. "Maybe you should give me a chance to help you out. I can read words on a sheet of paper, Stanford."

"It's not just reading words, Stanley. It's a specific set of papers that- Hell I don't even know if I put them in a folder or copied it all into a book! Either way, it's full of complicated theories. Long walls of words written over several pages, I don't know if you could tell it apart from anything else I have!", Stanford rolled his eyes, hating how long this was taking.

"Well try me!", Stanley challenged, coming in and around to where Ford sat. "Come on, brainiac! You're so smart? Try to explain it to me. What exactly- No, tell me BASICALLY what I can find in these stupid texts!"

"Alright, fine!" Ford growled. "It would give examples of spells and show the basic structure by pulling out key phrases like greek and latin roots and under that give a definition of how it worked into the spell. It looked like a vague pyramid to me."

"Alright! Anything else?"

"YES! There were graphs to explain different strengths to spell casting and how that worked! Some were shaped like a grid, some were shaped like a circle."

"That's a stupid graph."

"You're probably too stupid to fully appreciate it!"

"You're probably going to eat your words when I find it in less than half an hour!"

"Oh sure, I'd like to see that.", Ford scoffed before picking up a large stack of papers and shoving them into Stan's arms. "HERE. Start with that!"

Stan huffed and sat back in a chair. He started sorting through them too and Ford went back to the ones currently in his lap.

For a moment, things were quiet and Ford started to calm down. He sighed a little and more carefully searched the folders while another part of his mind went to work untangling his stress and calming down into his research. At least Stanley was keeping quiet and actually seemed focused. Ford glanced up, making sure his brother actually was reading through them too.

And Stanley was. He couldn't fully read everything on the papers and Ford was right, but he knew how to bluff in looking like he was actually paying attention. His eyes blankly scanned the papers for anything specific to jump out at him like "spells" or "witchcraft" and so far nothing. Not even anything resembling a pyramid or graph would show to him. He checked a few more papers in the folder and then sat them aside to his left and started on the next. Instinctively he went to push up his glasses, but then paused and almost chuckled at the reminder to himself that his cataracts were cleared and his vision was 20-20 once again. Instead he rubbed the bridge between his eyes and scanned a few more papers.

It was quiet for the most part until Stanley began tapping his foot on the floor in a steady, calm, tempo. At first, Ford could actually feel the sound of such a small vibration hit his ear drum just right to irritate him and distract him, but soon it was tuned out once more as mere white-noise and Ford focused again on the papers, setting aside another book and picking up a smaller folder.

"T…t-t-t-t-t-t…", Stan started, once again breaking Ford's concentration. "T-t-t-t-t-t-t-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-sho-shoooooooo…?"

Ford looked up and noticed Stan was frowning at the papers in his hands and hoped he had finished, seeing that he stopped scatting and toe-tapping. But Stan shrugged and set the papers away and started up yet again. Ford growled quietly under his breath in agitation as he felt his ears almost literally cringe.

'Some things NEVER change…', Ford thought to himself, looking back at his papers.

"Sh-sh-sh-sh…", Stanley continued. "Sh-ch-ch-ch…do-do-doo.."

'Oh GOSH he's humming now.', Ford groaned internally wanting to bang his head on a desk. 'I can either tell him to stop now or just keep my mouth shut… If I say anything now he won't recognize what I'm telling him to stop about, but if I keep quiet he's going to keep at it until I lose my temper. Dammit.. I hate it when he does this and he knows it!'

Ford sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Dun-dun-dun-do..", Stan continued, unaware of Ford's internal struggle. "Sortin' through papers..da-da-da… Wonderin'…what's gonna happen.. Do do do-do…. Think we might just die.."

Ford's grip on the book's sides tightened and he quickly sat it down and stood up. He did not feel like hearing another one of Stanley's made-up tuneless hums and instead he put on an 8-track. It was nice to know his brother didn't move all of his things around and the spare room was still the same as he left it. After a moment some classical song started to play and Ford sighed a little, relieved to hear something that actually made sense, and went back to where he was sitting.

Stanley heard the music suddenly play and snapped up from his own concentration.

While Ford felt like his ears could respectfully enjoy the feel of such clarity in the music, Stan internally wanted to groan and roll his eyes. It was so BORING and overdone. He grumbled a little and went back to his stack.

Ford knew his brother didn't care for Mozart, but at the time he couldn't care. As long as his ears wouldn't be assaulted with even more nonsense.

They worked for a while like this, Stan's foot tapping more in agitation than absent-mindedness. He knew why Ford would put on music and was personally annoyed his brother didn't just say that he was humming again. After a moment though he thought of how to have fun anyway.

"…We're gonna die. We're gonna die. Yes my brother didn't know what the spell was. We're gonna die.", he hummed along with the song, smirking.

Ford's eyes widened, hearing his brother's made up lyrics and he almost groaned again as he rolled his eyes.

"He thought that maybe letting Dipper have the journals was a good idea.", Stan teased, looking at his brother. "But he did not think that it was really stupid. And now we're all doomed, to his madness."

Ford growled and scowled back at his brother, absolutely unable to read the papers and then even more so angry to see Stan wasn't even reading the papers. Stan's smirk only widened and he was encouraged to continue.

"We're gonna die. We're gonna die. Yes and now my brother's really mad.", Stan continued. "Cause he hates it when I try to play along and enjoy the work cause it's all so nerdy."

"CAN YOU BE SERIOUS FOR FIVE MINUTES?", Ford growled finally.

"No I won't.", Stan continued, on a roll and proud of himself as he swiveled the chair away from him. "Cause you wouldn't say please to me in a kind manner."

"Oh my gosh! STANLEY!", Ford groaned pushing back his hair in quickly accumulating frustration.

"You don't know the side, affects caused by, this silly spell that you, just had to write in your dumb journals!"

Suddenly Ford jammed the stop button on the 8-track and Stanley's chair was immediately spun around so that they were face to face.

"PLEASE STOP IT WITH THE NONSENSE!", Ford growled.

He got up and stormed back to what he was doing. Stanley stared after him, surprised by the outburst. He sighed a little. He was only trying to have fun. But he looked back down at the paper and went back to reading.

"..Sorry.", he mumbled under his breath, unheard by his brother.