As it turned out, 'Lazy Susan' was an older woman with a vaguely familiar face and a single lazy eye, which Stanford supposed explained the name. She greeted the two of them with a wide, genuine smile.

"Why, if it ain't Soos an' Mr. Mystery!" She set down a pot of lukewarm coffee, a shimmering veneer of grease covering its surface. "What can I get for our town heroes?" The woman gave Stanford a wink - or rather, because of her eye, a very meaningful blink.

"Actually," He interrupted with a strained smile, barely resisting the urge to correct her misunderstanding. The situation wasn't exactly one he wanted to get into now. "The two of us aren't here for breakfast. We're here for infor -"

"Mr. Pines and I will get what we usually get," Soos cut in, ignoring Ford's frantic hand motions. He beamed. "Ooh, and make the pancakes so they look like flyin' saucers!"

"No thank you," Stanford said, just as quickly. "I'm not here to eat, and really, we have some pressing - "

His stomach growled, and two pair of eyes turned to stare. He flushed crimson. Right, the last meal he had was the farewell breakfast with Dipper and Mabel. He hadn't eaten for almost - a day? Over the years, he had become used to the feeling of an empty stomach, but on the other side of the portal, he hadn't had to worry about other people taking an unnecessary interest in his diet – or lack of one.

The waitress gave him a knowing look. "Oh, hun. I'll get those orders in first thing. But sorry t' say, we're all outta eggs - our whole stock grew wings and flew off durin' that weirdness last week! But tell ya what," she added, leaning in with a conspiratory whisper. "I'll getcha a double order of everythin' else."

Stanford leaned back slightly, away from her smiling face. "...Really, I must refuse -"

"All on the house, 'f course!" She added quickly. "Compliments of the chef." A single hand waved at them from over the grill.

That... was not Stanford's concern, and he opened his mouth to say just as much. But – almost involuntarily, his eyes darted to a passing platter of food carried by a rather harried looking older woman, It looked – quite good, actually, and... he hadn't had French toast for decades.

Not to mention, his investigative partner had begun to shoot him pleading glances from across the table, puppy-dog looks that should look ridiculous on a grown man. Problem was, it was working.

He gave in. "Ah, yes, that would be – perfect, actually."

It felt a bit dishonest to get a free meal under his brother's name, but Stanford hadn't had the chance to stop by the town bank to withdraw some cash currency. And really... this was his name, and Stanley had certainly taken more from him than a filling breakfast.

The woman scribbled down something on her notepad and rushed off into the busy kitchen. "Well, Soos," Stanford said with a breath of relief, glancing down at his watch, "as long as we keep a low profile, I believe we can make it out in - "

"Mr. Pines?" A slightly nasal voice came from behind him, and he whipped around to see a rather small man, an ill-fitting press fedora teetering on his head. "It is you! Why, people haven't seen you for days -"

Stanford scooted back a little on his seat in an automatic attempt to get some distance away from the man. "Who are you, exactly?"

"It's me, Toby Determined, editor of the Gravity Falls Gossiper!" At least, the man didn't seem offended about being 'forgotten'. From the look of things, he actually seemed used to Ford's dismissal. "I'm working on a feature, actually, and I was hopin' I could ask you a few questions - "

"I'm afraid you've got the wrong man - "

"Well, you're Stanford Pines, aren't you?" Determined exclaimed, a little bit too loudly, and the diner went quiet.

"I am," Ford admitted quietly, but it came out uncomfortably loud in the sudden silence. "But - "

That seemed to have been the wrong thing to admit. Determined drew even closer, a glint in his half-lidded eyes. "Well, heck, I already got a few feature titles thought up for ya! How's this, 'Local Hero Leads Rebellion Against Triangular Overlord' - "

'Leads rebellion'? He blinked, and a second later, before Stanford could mentally connect those particular dots, Determined was shoved aside by a wild-eyed man who drew a bit too close to be comfortable. Yeesh, what was with the lack of personal space in this town?

"Stan Pines, I just wanna thank ya for lookin' after my daughter during that whole mess - " The man started, but Stanford had already heard enough. He turned away from him immediately, teeth gritted, only to be met by another hopeful face, and another, and another -

"Mr. Mystery -"

"What are your thoughts on - "

" - idea when the Mystery Shack - "

" - our hero, Mr. Pines, and I do hope - "

"Soos," Stanford tried, unnerved by the gathering crowd of people in front of their small booth, "a little – help - "

The handyman nodded resolutely. "I got you, other Mr. Pines! Hey everybody!" He shouted loudly, momentarily diverting all attention to him. "...Uh, who wants t' see me lick my elbow?" Soos made a valiant attempt, and missed.

A dozen pair of eyes fixated back on Stanford, who swallowed almost audibly. He could make a hasty retreat, he supposed, but it would involve missing out on a quality breakfast and leaving the diner as empty-handed as he had entered. Perhaps, he could return later, when less of Stanley's – fan's were present -

"Shame on all of ya, botherin' a man before he's even had breakfast!" Came a familiar high, nasal voice that, under the circumstances, sounded like the sound of an angel. Lazy Susan cleared a path through the crowd, physically swatting at the people around her with a rather grimy looking broom. "Get, get!"

Slowly, the mob dissipated. Some were shoo'ed back to their own tables, where they neglected their cooling meals to stare and whisper at the increasingly uncomfortable Stanford. Others, like Toby Determined, were ushered out of the diner with sour looks on their faces.

Satisfied, Lazy Susan gave the two a wink and disappeared momentarily into the kitchen. She returned with two large plates, almost completely obscured by the incredible amount of food they held. Sausages glistened in the daylight, hashbrowns sizzled on the plate, and Stanford was suddenly struck by how distinct his home dimension's cuisine was from – every other, really. and there was something reassuring about knowing that this meal would not try to eat him back.

The moment his plate was set in front of him, he dove in, savoring tastes that he had thought he would never taste again, trying half-heartedly not to eat like – some ravenous beast, but not particularly concerned nonetheless. It had just been - too long since he had had a decent meal, one that he didn't have to check for substances poisonous to carbon-based lifeforms, or scarf down while keeping an eye out for the very real monsters in the dark. Or pick out bits of Stan's body hair from.

After what felt like minutes, his plate was empty, scraped clean of – practically everything. Stanford put down his fork carefully, and looked up into the identical stunned stares of Soos and Lazy Susan. He swallowed, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. His – perception of time hadn't been skewed, it seemed.

"It was – very good," Ford said uncertainly.

For a moment, Lazy Susan gave him an appraising look. "Well!" She said finally, shaking her head ruefully. "I'll get another one comin' up."

Once she was gone, Soos exclaimed in what sounded like genuine shock. "Woah. Other Mr. Pines, that was amazing!"

"Well," he said, a bit weakly, "I suppose it has been a while since... You have to understand, this is not normal behavior for me. I don't usually eat this fast – or this - "

Soos held up a hand. "Other Mr. Pines, I have been to many a Ramirez family reunions in my life. I've seen worse." A shadow fell over his face and his expression turned grim. "...Things that cannot be unseen." Then cheerfully, face normal again, "You do you, dood."

"I – Thank you, Soos." Vaguely confused – was this how people talked in this day and age? - but reassured by the other man's message of acceptance, Stanford gave Soos a weak smile.

Lazy Susan returned ten minutes later with a second hefty plate. "You're not Stan Pines, are ya?" She said conversationally as she set it down.

Stanford dropped his fork, all appetite suddenly gone. With the most dignity he could muster, he said steadily, "I don't know what you're -"

"Hun, I've known that man for thirty years, and I've never seen him pass up a free pot of coffee before. But I have to say, that's a downright uncanny resemblance ya got there." The woman squinted at him. "Still felt like I've seen you somewhere before. What's your name, hun?"

"My name is Stanford Pines," he said defeatedly, "and no, you are correct. I'm not the man you know by that name. The circumstances behind that is – admittedly a bit strange, perhaps unbelievable, but I assure you - "

"He's Mr. Pines' long-lost twin brother!" Soos interrupted easily. "He got stuck in another dimension for like, thirty years, but Mr. Pines finally got 'im back a couple weeks ago."

There was a moment of stunned silence as Ford mentally reconsidered his life decisions that had lead him up to this moment. "Oh!" Lazy Susan said brightly. "Well, why didn't ya just say that in the first place? And here, I was wonderin' if them aliens already started replacin' people in this town."

He blinked, stunned by her easy acceptance of the frankly ridiculous sounding truth. "Yes, I'm – I'm Stan's twin. Ma'am, you said you've known my brother for – thirty years?"

"Sure I did! Heck, I was part 'f the very first group of visitors to the Mystery Shack! Think it was called somethin' different back then – huh, that must've been right after he stopped doin' his weird experiments out there in those woods."

Ford coughed. "Is there – anything that stood out to you, about his behavior then?" He tried, not particularly sure what kind of questions he could ask. "Or -" He paused. "There was a – car crash around that time, was there not? I know it was in the papers, at the very least - "

"Oh, that." Lazy Susan shook her head. "Unfortunate business, all around. Burned down a whole patch of forest off the side of the road heading out south. Sure, it's been a good thirty years since. But our town is a small town, see? We don't get none 'f that kind of business. Cut brakes!" She shivered a little. "Like somethin' outta a movie, that."

Cut brakes... "Did my brother act – oddly, after that? Anxiously, perhaps?" Ford swallowed. "Guiltily?"

She gave him a blank look. "Well, I suppose. But once that news came up in the papers, everyone was actin' a bit off for a few days or so. Only other thing... he stopped comin' in with that nervous-lookin' friend of his. The one with the big nose."

"...Nervous-looking friend?"

Lazy Susan squinted. "Can't remember the name. Entire memory's a blank. Strange!" She paused. "Say, what's with all these questions? Is Stan in any kind of trouble?" She suddenly looked very suspicious. "If that's so, then forget 'bout everything I just said. Stan Pines is a morally upright resident of this -" She paused. "He's a resident of this town, anyways."

"No, Stan's not in any trouble or danger," Ford said quickly. "He just – drove off on his own, and I was looking for clues as to where he might have gone." And, just as importantly... why he had gone.

"Well, I don't see how any of that could have helped, but I wish you the best of luck. Though... " She thought for a bit. "When ya do, let him know that the whole town's interested t' know when the Shack is openin' up again. The mayor wants to make it a town landmark!"

"Yes, yes. Of course," he said, a bit distractedly. Then, Ford hesitated. "That car accident thirty years ago... where did you say that was, again? Something about the road heading out south?"

"That's right. Right off the left side of that road. Soos here knows where it is, doesn't he?" The handyman nodded.

Stanford's mind was made up. "Then that will be our next destination," he said firmly, standing up. "Thank you for your help, ma'am."

"But – other Mr. Pines, you didn't finish your - "

He was already halfway out the door, having pushed his way past waitresses and other customers, including a rather chubby white-haired boy who had been staring at his hands in wide-eyed disbelief. Soos and Lazy Susan watched him disappear.

There was a long pause. Soos looked glumly at his uneaten pancakes. "Can we, uh, get these to go?"

Soos stared at the forest. "Y'know," he said contemplatively, "there's somethin' different. Can't put a finger on it, though."

"But – this is the place?" Ford asked, unbuckling his seatbelt and loosening his death grip on the assist handle. "No more driving?" If there was, he was doubtful that he would survive the trip.

"Yep, no doubt about it! Y'see those trees over there, they're a lot smaller than the others 'cause they're so much younger - "

"What trees?"

"Those trees, right there -" Soos put down his finger slowly. "Oh, uh."

There was a moment of terrible silence. A beat later, Stanford swore loudly and practically jumped out of the car. His heartbeat thundering in his chest and a cold pit opening in the depth of his stomach, he jogged to the edge of the forest and stared at the destruction before him. Dozens of trees broken and smashed into pieces of various sizes, from wood chips to almost whole trunks.

This damage was not the work of individual tools, Ford thought to himself. This was the result of a blunt force plowing through the forest at high speeds.

This was the work of a car, and it had happened recently. Very recently.

"Woah," Soos said quietly beside him. "This is so weird. How did no one notice this before?"

Ford didn't reply. Instead, with no further hesitation, he began to make his way inwards, following the path of destruction with a lump in his throat. Twigs and branches snapped harmlessly under his heavy boots and scratched futilely at his pant legs. Distantly, he heard the heavy footsteps of Soos following after him.

As they moved deeper into the dark forest, Stanford's subconscious alarm bells began to ring. He didn't want to move forwards, of course not, and the best idea was to head back – he shook his head, and took his next steps. But the uncomfortable feeling persisted, the strange weight of a heavy gaze sending chills down his spine.

Though it was bright noon outside, the majority of light had been scattered and blocked by centuries worth of tree growth. But there was just enough to see his immediate surroundings and – most importantly – for Stanford to notice how the pattern of destruction had – changed. The broken pieces of wood at the entrance of the woods were evidently new, still sticky with the sap that was a tree's lifeblood.

But now, the hunks of wood under his feet were dry and brittle. Some pieces were blackened and turned to ash under his touch. The tall trees around him were scarred with fire of years long past, green branch nubs sprouting from underneath the darkened bark.

And then, he saw it. A familiar burgundy red glinted in the distance, a shade of color so different from the muted greens and browns of the surrounding forest that Ford could never have missed it, no matter how much he wished he could.

But – Stanley couldn't have -

"That's Mr. Pines' car," Soos said weakly, startling Ford out of his horrified trance. "What's it doing here?"

There was no time for thoughts. His brother could be dying – could be dead – all while Stanford had spent the entire day – doing what? Trying to find yet another mystery where none existed?

He ran through the words, brushing past branches that reached out as if to stop him, and lunged for the driver's seat window.

"Stanley!"

Ford froze. There was no one behind the wheel. The car doors were unlocked and he swallowed before he stuck his head in, only to see nothing but yellowed receipts and discarded food wrappers.

No, his brother was not here, which was simultaneously an indescribable relief - and the worst thing he could have anticipated, because. If Stanley wasn't here, was without his car...

Where was he?

"Um, other Mr. Pines," Soos said quietly, with a note of seriousness that sounded strange from him. "You – Ya gotta take a look at this."

He pointed at the hood of the car, and breath caught in Stanford's throat as he took in the sight of the ridiculous, familiar red fez perched upon it. He reached out a single hand to touch it, almost as if to confirm its existence – but snapped his hand back at the last second.

"Soos," Ford said hoarsely, "you take it."

Then, he took a step back, taking measured breaths.

The Stanmobile was pristine, its coat of burgundy paint completely unscratched. There were no dents in the car at all, even though it had evidently smashed its way through at least a dozen meters of thick forest to get to this location. It was impossible and almost eerie, seeing the car amidst all the destruction of both past and present.

And, there was something about these trees...

"Other Mr. Pines," Soos asked, eyes seemingly unable to leave the fez in his hands, "what happened to Mr. Pines?"

Stanford put a single trembling hand on the tree bark and traced the symbol that had been carved upon it with his fingers. They were on every tree, he could tell then, reaching as far as his eyes could see.

This symbol was a familiar one, with its single circle and double diamonds. And... they weren't carved, he realized, feeling suddenly nauseous.

They were branded.

"I don't know, Soos," Ford said heavily.