A/N – This is a sequel to "Dream Date Nightmare," so you really need to go read that first if you haven't. I just barely skimmed over the idea of "consequences" in that story, so that's how this one came about. Thanks to Dreamsinger for lighting a fire under me. The title comes from the phrase, "Revenge is a dish best served cold."

Ferb and Vanessa belong to Dan Povenmire and Jeff "Swampy" Marsh.

Best Served Cold

Ferb Fletcher saw and felt the park solidify around him. His internal, inexplicable "V-dar," as he had privately come to think of it, prompted him to turn to the left, and his gaze fell at once on the lovely girl sitting in the shade of a tree. She still had her phone in her hand, and glanced up at him as he walked toward her.

"Wow, that was fast," Vanessa noted in surprise. "Let me guess," she eyed him with curiosity. "Pocket transporter?"

You know me too well, thought Ferb, but all he did was pat the aforementioned pocket and offer the trace of a confirming smile in reply.

"You know, you guys really ought to start marketing some of these inventions of yours," said Vanessa. "You'd make a fortune."

Admittedly, the same thought had crossed Ferb's mind, but mass production would bring a whole set of complications, not the least of which was the fact that he and Phineas were still legally minors and therefore unable to secure patents, negotiate contracts, form corporations, or otherwise control the business end of inventing. He knew that Vanessa hadn't texted him to meet her in the park so they could discuss his future career plans, however, and so he simply replied, "Perhaps someday." Sitting down in the grass beside her, he asked, "How did the morning go?"

She sighed and said, in a subdued voice, "They threw out the case. I knew they would," she added swiftly in response to Ferb's look of dismay. "Ms. D'Ambrosio said from the start that we probably didn't have enough evidence to make anything stick. It's not her fault, she's been great, she and Detective Hedges both. And it's not that the Judge didn't believe me, it's just that…" Vanessa drew her knees up and folded her arms around them. "Well, basically, I would have had a better case if I hadn't been able to stop him before he got too far."

Ferb wanted more than anything to take her hand, to put his arm around her shoulders, to make some gesture of comfort and reassurance, but it was too forward, he thought, and too self-serving, so he refrained from touching her and instead said, "I'm glad you were able to stop him."

"Yeah, me, too," she acknowledged. "But, it's just…" she put one hand to her forehead and swept back her hair in exasperation.

"He shouldn't get away with it," Ferb declared, finishing the thought.

Back in May, Vanessa had spent the night at the Flynn-Fletcher house after her prom date, Andy Arden, had assaulted her outside the high school. Candace had brought her home, and Mum had let her stay, and Ferb had lent her an ear and a shoulder on which to unburden herself. In the morning, Mum had taken Vanessa home, and Vanessa had told her own mother what had happened, then she and her mother had gone to the police, charges were filed, detectives and prosecutors were involved – Vanessa said it was just like one of those crime-and-courtroom shows on television. Ferb knew that none of this had been easy for her – especially since Vanessa wasn't one to want the whole world poking its collective nose into her personal business – but he admired her courage in confronting her assailant.

Now, she answered, "He may not get away with everything. You know about the two other girls in Lakeport? Detective Hedges says they've got more evidence in those cases. She says the other girls never would have come forward if I hadn't stood up to him first, and I guess I should feel good about that, but…" She rested her chin on her folded arms before she said, "I don't know, Ferb, I can't stop wishing there was something I could do to get back at him."

Ferb was quiet for a moment before he murmured, "My offer still stands." Before the case had ever gone to court, he had volunteered to teach the cad a lesson, but she had firmly declined.

Obviously, her stance had not softened as she raised her head and turned toward him with a frown. "No. You are not getting involved in this. I don't want you getting in trouble."

"I won't get in – " he began to protest, but she cut him off.

"Ferb, I mean it! It's been all I can do to keep my Dad from going after the creep with some sort of 'Squash-em-like-a-bug-inator.' I don't want you getting hurt, or arrested, or sent to reform school. I'd never forgive myself."

This unexpected declaration made Ferb's heart swell with joy and he countered, in what he hoped was a firm and mature manner, "No one is going to reform school. I have a plan."

Vanessa glowered sternly at him for a minute before she finally said, in a hesitant voice, "What sort of plan?"

"One we can carry out together," he answered with a cool smile. "If you like."

lllllllllll

Andy Arden emerged from the Aquatic Center at the Sycamore Hills Country Club. There was a spring in his step as he tossed his gym bag in the back of the sleek new black SUV his parents had bought him for graduation. It had been a long summer, what with that crazy Doofenshmirtz girl and all this courtroom drama, but she had nothing on him, and the whole thing had ended with charges dismissed and his life back to normal. Oh, there had been some rumbling from the cops about a couple of girls he had known back in Lakeport, but that wouldn't go anywhere. He was rich and smart and handsome, and they could say whatever they wanted about him, their stories would never stick.

The motor purred to life, and he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the avenue. His satellite radio was on a dance/pop mix channel, and the infectious, thumping bass made him hum along and drum his fingers on the wheel as he headed home. Yeah, life was good.

The first sign that something was wrong was when the song pumping through the speakers suddenly changed to a racket of banjos and fiddles and twangy voices. How had he ended up on the bluegrass channel? His thumb flicked the radio control on the steering wheel to switch the music back, but nothing changed. He cycled through his presets, but that Ol' Mountain Music just wouldn't stop – until it was suddenly replaced by the sedate and elegant sounds of strings and woodwinds in a classical concerto. Still punching at buttons, Andy was startled to feel the vehicle slowing to a stop, and looked up to see that the traffic light ahead of him had turned yellow. Could have made that, he grumbled to himself, cursing these new high-tech cars that thought they knew more about driving than you did. Still, self-braking was a feature he hadn't been aware of before. Self-parking, yeah, collision avoidance, sure, but… Eventually the light turned green and he hit the gas, and the machine moved forward. Before he could turn his attention back to the balky sound system, the gentle concerto gave way to a blaring chorus of horns and guitars and men harmonizing in Spanish. Mariachi? Where had that come from? He tried to turn off the radio entirely, but the volume only grew louder. Just when the Mexican music was starting to give him a headache, the stations changed in swift succession through splashes of elevator music and disco and kiddie lullabies before landing on a heavy metal mashup of grinding guitars and growling voices. He could at least live with this, and gradually began to bob his head in time with the thundering drums, when the channel changed again. There was a brief interlude of… reggae? before the radio jerked back to the metal station. As soon as he began picking up the rock beat again, however, there was another switch, this time to a swinging symphony of saxophones and clarinets in the sort of 1940s music his grandparents would have danced to. Andy made one more attempt to tune the radio away from this stuff fit only for old fogies, but the SUV stopped itself at the next red light and he gave up. First thing tomorrow, this junk bucket was going back to the dealer.

He was southbound heading into downtown Danville, and flipped on the left turn signal to head east toward home. But when he pushed the lever down, the right arrow began blinking instead, and the SUV moved inexorably into the right lane. Andy wrenched the wheel to the left, but it had no effect on the vehicle, which made a smooth turn and proceeded to the west. This was way too weird, and he shoved his foot down on the brake. The pedal felt right and gave the expected resistance, but it did nothing to alter his speed or direction. Increasingly frantic, he tried shifting gears, shutting off the ignition, unlocking the doors, all to no avail. He fumbled for his cell phone before remembering that it was in his gym bag, far out of reach. For a moment, he thought of climbing back to get it, but as soon as he reached to unlatch his seat belt, the SUV gave a small jerk and a jolt, enough to convince him to stay where he was. The mellow, romantic sounds of the Big Band music still flowing from the speakers made the situation all the more creepy, like some old horror movie about a car that was possessed and had a mind of its own. But wouldn't the possessed horror movie car have been careening out of control? The SUV was driving itself more safely than he would have, calmly obeying every speed limit and stop sign along the way. When it came to another red light, Andy pounded on the window and mouthed and pantomimed to the car beside him, Help me! The old lady in the passenger seat just gave him a scolding glance as if to say, You young hoodlum! and looked away. Everyone whose attention he tried to attract responded in some useless way or another. The big bruiser in the pickup truck made a crude gesture, the toddler in the rear-facing car seat giggled and waved, and most of the people who saw him simply frowned or rolled their eyes and turned away. What kind of a city was this?

Slowly overpowered by a numbing sense of helplessness, Andy was carried onward until the SUV approached a driveway and slowed to turn in. Metal letters on a brick wall spelled out WESTVIEW HIGH SCHOOL, and an unexpected shudder went through him as he recognized the place. This was where he had brought Vanessa Doofenshmirtz to her Senior Prom. The vehicle slowly circled the parking lot before it pulled up to a sidewalk outside the school. Even in broad daylight, he recognized the shrubs and the shady brick alcove in the side of the building. This was where Vanessa had caught wise to his intentions and left him no choice but to wrestle her into the shadows and seize his opportunity. Now Andy winced at the memory of the inexplicable headache that had stabbed like a hundred icicles into his brain and had allowed her to get away.

Without warning, the door locks released with a thunk, and his seat belt snapped loose. Before he could reach for the handle, the door flew open and in a whoosh he was tumbled out of his seat. Staggering to regain his balance, Andy glanced around himself. There was no one in sight, yet as he backed away from the SUV, his feet were swept out from under him and he fell onto the sidewalk. Must have tripped on the curb, he rationalized, but without much conviction. Turning onto his hands and knees, he suddenly felt himself jerked upright. Standing, he whipped his head from side to side, but still could see no one. He took a tentative step or two away from the ominous vehicle, then there was another odd hint of a whoosh and he went flying into the shrubs. Struggling free, he shouted, "You want to fight, come out and fight!" Again, there was no one in sight, and he angrily rustled the bushes. Something that felt like a sharp heel pressed against the small of his back, and the brick wall came hurtling toward him as he thumped against it. The unseen force spun him face forward, and his gaze flew frantically in all directions, looking and listening for anything, a shadow, a snicker, any sign that he was not completely alone. His knees buckled without warning and hit the dirt, and he was pulled backwards to sit on his heels. Both hands were pinned behind him as if in a vise, but when he craned to look back over his shoulder, he still could see no one. Wild eyed and panting, Andy let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper as he struggled unsuccessfully to break the unyielding phantom grip that restrained his wrists. Then something touched his cheek – an invisible hand, soft and feminine, that sent a shudder through him as it brushed the straggling hair from his forehead before twisting itself in his dark locks and jerking his head back. A whisper enveloped him, coming from all directions, and he heard what he would have sworn was Vanessa's voice echoing in his ears.

"The next time a girl says 'no' – listen!"

Another whoosh and his hands were free and the voice was gone, but as Andy Arden moved to raise himself, he felt a sudden, sharp pinch where his neck met his shoulder, and the ground rose to meet his face as everything went black…

llllllllll

Ferb Fletcher saw and felt the park solidify around him. In the shade of what was swiftly becoming his second-favorite tree in the world, he watched Vanessa shimmer into view as well. Glancing around them, Ferb confirmed that there was no one near, and tapped the switch on the form-fitting black suit he wore. Vanessa did the same, and pulled off her hood, shaking her hair loose in a manner that rendered him dreamy-eyed.

"Ferb, you are a genius!" She pounced on him, lifting him onto his toes as she wrapped him in a hug. To his surprise and delight, she planted an enthusiastic kiss on his forehead before she released him. "And I don't want to hear any of that, 'Oh, dear, no, I'm just a silly old chap' out of you," she warned, making a playful attempt at his accent. "These ninja outfits are amazing! Good thing you made one for Candace." Looking herself over again in the borrowed suit, Vanessa added, "But I'm kind of surprised it fits so well."

"That's the Smart Garment at work," Ferb explained, peeling off his own hood. "We made these a couple of years ago, and mine still fits, even though I've grown a few inches since then."

Vanessa plopped down in the grass and leaned back against the tree with a deep, satisfied sigh. "I wish I could be there when Andy comes to. No one's ever going to believe him. You need to teach me how to do that neck pinch thing."

"As long as you promise not to practice on me," Ferb smiled, sitting down beside her. He was certain Vanessa's physical skills were not all just the work of the suit. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

"Remind me never to let you mess with my car," she countered. "I never knew you could rig up a remote control like that."

"It's how we won the Swamp Oil 500," Ferb noted in a modestly off-handed tone. "Comes in handy when you're not legally old enough to operate a motor vehicle. Nice touch playing with the radio, though," he complimented her. "I wouldn't have thought of that."

"I wish you'd let me leave the Scraping Fangs on," she remarked.

"He was enjoying it too much," Ferb argued. "We should have just put it on Easy Listening, but I don't think I could stomach that."

"Me, either," Vanessa chuckled, scrunching her nose. "The swing band stuff was kind of fun, though."

Ferb nodded. He had the most lovely daydreams of dancing with Vanessa to that sort of music, but he knew that would have to wait for a while. For today, he was content to sit with her in the park, and to feel that he had rendered her some small service.

They were both quiet for a bit as the adrenalin subsided and they collected themselves before Vanessa finally turned toward him and said, in a soft voice, "Ferb… thank you."

The tender smile he offered in return came straight from his heart. "Any time."

THE END