In circles round the well and where it spells on the wall behind St. Peter, so bright on cinder gray in spray paint, "Who the hell can see forever?". And please remember me, seldomly. In the car behind the carnival, my hand between your knees. You turn from me and said the trapeze act was wonderful.

Lydia was waiting impatiently at a local coffee shop. Her stomach was churning. She was crazy for meeting someone from the internet. She thanked the heavens her parents accepted that she was just going out exploring, as she often did. No questions, just a "make sure your phone is on" and a goodbye. Now she was here. Waiting. But as crazy as she was standing there waiting for a stranger, the stranger was even crazier for driving over five hours to meet her because of a lighthouse and a ghost.

Each time the door opened, she looked over with bated breath. It had been two days since Dipper had sent her a message, and they had been sporadically communicating since. Earlier in the morning, he had told her he'd be wearing a red shirt and a blue and white baseball cap. She felt like she'd been waiting for an eternity. And the finally… there he was. The door opened, and in walked Dipper Pines in a red shirt and a blue and white cap.

He wasn't what she expected, and she meant that in a good way. Under his hat was a mop of shaggy brown hair. His pale skin was accented with a few freckles. His button nose was a little red, even though it was a nice breezy summer day. He was tall and thin, wearing a red shirt and cargo shorts. On his back he carried a slouchy bag.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and waved him over. He smiled, his cheeks started to match the color of his nose, and he walked over to her.

She, too, was not what he had pictured. He wasn't sure what to expect. He'd gone on dozens of these team-trips with a handbag of interesting people. But Lydia. Her dark brown hair was braided and draped over her shoulder. Her bangs were pinned back, bringing more attention to her face. She was fresh-faced, with creamy white skin. Her gentle eyes were a striking hazel color. The rest of her features, her lips and nose, were well defined. She wore a plain, dark blue scoop neck shirt with a pair of tan shorts and working boots. He was undoubtedly attracted to her, which could make the day nothing short of difficult.

"Hi," Lydia breathed. "It's nice to meet you… finally."

Dipper took his hat off and ran his hand through his hair, "I know- hi, hi!"

"How was your drive?" Lydia questioned.

"Long," he admitted. "But I'm used to long drives. Um… you want some coffee?"

"Sure," Lydia nodded, and they moved to get in line. The two stood awkwardly and without conversation until they got to the counter. Lydia ordered a chai tea latte, and Dipper got a plain black coffee. She reached for her wallet and he rolled his eyes, pulling out his and paying. Once they got their drinks they took a small circle table near the rear of the shop.

"Thanks again," Lydia said, motioning to her drink.

"No problem," He shrugged, swinging his bag onto his lap. "So. Muriel. I have heard of lighthouse hauntings before, but I haven't heard of the Astoria haunting. Later on, when we're out there, I'll have you do a summary in the video- if that's okay with you- but can you give me a quick run through of the story right now?"

Taken aback by his formality, Lydia nodded, "It's a local legend around here, but Astoria isn't huge… plus, Portland takes all the attention. Muriel was the 6 year old daughter of the keeper during the 1890s. She was playing on the balcony when the wind picked up and pushed her over, killing her. A few more families lived in the house before it was shut down, but they reported 'mysterious' activity, like hearing giggles, seeing a child's figure, and seeing handprints on the walls. The lore just kept building. A lot of kids dare each other to spend the night in the house and they always report activity."

"That's what we'll have to do. Go at night to get the best activity."

"Well, my parents will be worried if I'm out really late…"

Dipper shuffled the papers he pulled from his bag, and without looking up he proposed, "Just tell them you're going to stay with a friend."

"I um…" Lydia blushed out of embarrassment. "I don't really have any friends… anymore."

He looked up and noticed how uncomfortable she was and just let out an, "Oh."

"I'm sorry-"

Dipper cut her off, "No, it's okay. We will just work with what we have, right? It's nearly 5 now. I'm sure we can kill two or three hours and go as soon as it's starting to get darker. With how active the place supposedly is, we should be able to get some proof quickly."

He smiled, and Lydia couldn't help but look away to hide her butterflies. When she looked back Dipper had a handheld camera on her, the red light flashing. She was taken aback by the presence of it, nervous at the thought of being recorded.

"So, Lydia," He said from behind the camera. "What is there to do in Astoria?"

She laughed, "That is the golden question, right?"

There was a moment of silence as she thought. Her face lit up and she smiled before saying, "Okay- let's go!"

Dipper tipped the camera down and looked at her with raised brows, "Go where? Or can I not know?"

"Fort Stevens," She answered. "I promise, you'll like it."

He turned the camera off and set it down, then began to herd his papers back into his bag. Lydia watched carefully, mesmerized by his swift movements. He stood up, breaking her concentration. She looked up at him and blushed before following. He motioned for her to lead the way out of the shop. Once outside, she shoved a hand in her pocket.

"So, do you want to um… carpool, or follow me?"

He couldn't help but let a little laugh out, "We can ride together."

"My car is a piece of shit," Lydia expressed, as they walked through the parking lot. "Just a fair warning. And it smells like french fries, but in a bad way. I work at a fast food place."

"Luckily, I have never had to work with food," Dipper said, climbing into Lydia's car. Once she was secure inside, as well, he continued. "I always worked for my great uncle at his tourist trap, The Mystery Shack, during the summers. Once I graduated high school I moved back to Gravity Falls and took over the business. So I run the Shack and have all these side projects."

"Oh, that's really cool," Lydia expressed. "It' a tourist trap?"

"Stan always had really kitschy attractions. Tourists eat that kind of stuff up. We've tried integrating some of the real stuff I find, but the tourists really gravitate for the fake stuff. My twin sister, Mabel, used to love crafting the attractions with me."

"I bet it's fun having a twin. I'm the middle child, so I'm nothing special."

"You're special," Dipper stated, almost defensively. They both blushed, and Dipper was quick to go on. "Mabel was- still is- my best friend. It's just hard, sometimes. She's off at school. She'll be a sophomore at UCLA- we're originally from California. She's actually coming up to visit this weekend."

Lydia nodded. If Mabel was going to be a sophomore, that meant Dipper was only a year or so older than her. She had been wrestling with his age all afternoon, trying to decipher if her budding crush was tangible. She reminded herself, he may be your age, but he lives half the state away…

"I'm going to school this fall- in Seattle," She said, then immediately felt like punching herself in the face.

"Oh."

More silence. Lydia turned the volume up a few notches, letting her mix tape drift through the car. She felt vulnerable. She had almost forgotten why Dipper had voyaged over to Astoria. It wasn't for her, it was for Muriel. She was just the access, the line to the ghost. She was just a girl and he was just a stranger.

In the next seat, Dipper stole glances at Lydia. He, too, shared the same feelings of uncertainty. He was comfortable with silent drives with strangers. He was comfortable with brief interactions and small talk. He wasn't comfortable sitting next to someone who was supposed to be a one-time adventure but was slowly nesting into his chest. He hadn't been with anyone since he and Wendy broke up nearly a year ago. The breakup was great for his business and for the Guide to the Unexplained, but he missed the warmth- the butterflies.

"Okay!" Lydia quipped, breaking the silence. "Welcome to Fort Stevens."

The entrance was unsettling- two huge concrete entities, aged and worn, with 'FORT STEVENS' carved into the side. A winding road of lush landscape transformed into a massive open space of sporadic cabins, the beginning of hiking trails, and over a hill there was nothing but water. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Lydia parked the car in a lot near the hill. She looked over at him and gave a half smile.

"This is my favorite place in Astoria," She declared.

"I can see why."

"You haven't seen anything yet- come on!"

They left the car and began climbing the hill. Dipper pulled out his camera and pointed it on Lydia. He said,

"So, what exactly is Fort Stevens?"

Without looking over, Lydia recited in a stuffy accented voice, "Fort Stevens was once part of a three-fort defense system at the mouth of the Columbia River. It was in service for 84 years, spanning from the beginning of the civil war and ending during World War II."

Dipper couldn't help but laugh at her voice. She looked over and her eyes lit up when she noticed she was being recorded. She bit her lips and blushed, but didn't comment on the presence of the camera. Without missing a beat, she said,

"But, the most spectacular part of For Stevens… at least for me, is this."

They were at the top of the hill overlooking the water, stretching as far as the eye could see… and a shipwrecked boat. Dipper was taken aback by the presence of the ship. It's not every day you see the bones of an old boat stuck on its side in the sand.

"Wow."

"Yeah, I know," Lydia said with a smile before sliding down the sand. Dipper followed, keeping his eyes on the ship.

"This is the Peter Iredale ship. It's a really unimpressive story; the winds caught the ship and got it stuck in the sand. Isn't it something to look at, though?"

Dipper kept the camera on the ship as they walked closer. He inspected it as much as he could, fascinated by the structure. Lydia watched his childlike excitement, remembering the first time she saw the ship with her father years ago. He told her a marvelous story about pirates and buried treasure, and that the ghost of the men on the ship still haunted the area, protecting their treasure. That story was much more interesting than the truth. While Dipper was busy looking at the ship, Lydia parked herself in the sand, letting the warm beach hug her. She leaned back and closed her eyes, letting the sun beat down on her.

She felt the sand move next to her. Dipper had sat down next to her. He looked her up and down with the camera, focusing on every part of her body. Then he turned the camera off and laid back. His stomach was tingling, and he was trying to keep the sensation from traveling. He wanted to inch his hand over and touch hers. No, he wanted to roll over and caress her milky white skin. He wanted to kiss her pouty lips and discover what was under her clothes.

"I used to have a friend, Amanda, who graduated before me," Lydia said softly. Dipper rolled onto his side and looked at her. "I went to visit her one weekend at school and we went to a frat party. I was just so eager to be a grown up. I didn't even notice that they had slipped something into our drinks. I wasn't actually drinking mine, just holding it. But Amanda… she was… she… two guys raped her. She blamed me, and then when everyone at school found out, somehow I became the bad guy. I lost all my friends. I lost everyone, actually, because even people who weren't my friend were angry with me."

Dipper was astonished and at a loss for words, "I… I'm sorry. I don't know what to say."

"I've heard it all, it's okay," Lydia sat up and wiggled her hand deep into the sand. "It's going to be dark soon, we should head out. The lighthouse is on the other side of town, out by the ports. It'll take a while to get there."

She stood and dusted the sand off her shorts, then began walking towards the hill. Dipper stared at her for a long moment before following her steps.