A/N: After it sat on my hard drive for a solid several months, I've finally finished and fine-tuned the sequel to Brightest Green. Such nostalgia, since Brightest Green was my first-ever Phineas and Ferb story. Here's hoping that you Constant Reader, find it worth the wait. Cheers!

The room smelled of old books and furniture polish. The scent was making her sick, although maybe she had been feeling queasy to begin with. Vanessa kept her eyes down, trained on the lush, embroidered rug on the mayor's office floor. The faint gold patterns tracing through the maroon backdrop were in the shape of flowers and vines, twining and untwining all about the edge of the carpeting. It was beautiful, but Vanessa found herself distracted.

She didn't belong here, among his friends and loved ones. She was nothing to him, and yet Mayor Flynn had insisted that she attend. She now found herself seated in the hushed office, where there was no noise save for the hitching sobs of the widow.

It was several moments before Mayor Flynn—Vanessa still had difficulty thinking of him as anyone but Phineas Flynn, the gangly little kid prodigy she had known years ago—re-entered the office and leaned casually against his desk, facing them all. He cleared his throat and offered them all a genuinely sombre look.

"I'm sure you all know why we're here. Before he died, my brother asked me to be the executor of his will. I called everyone here today since each of you has been left something according to the will." He turned around and rifled through the papers on his desk for a minute before producing a small sheaf. His formal expression was momentarily lost as he looked back to them, his wistful countenance bearing a certain youthfulness not unlike the innocent, carefree Phineas from twenty years ago. "Thanks, guys, for coming. You all meant a lot to him."

Through the sobs, Vanessa caught a derisive laugh. She looked up briefly only to see Ferb's wife shooting her with an unmistakeable glare. Vanessa quickly resumed her observation of the carpet, determined not to react. She fiddled with the material on her cream-coloured shirt, running her fingers over an old stain still visible even after multiple washings.

"Okay, first off," Phineas continued, casting a cool glance toward the widow, who had promptly returned to sniffling into her handkerchief. "'To my lovely sister Candace, I bequeath my set of tools in hopes that her sons will be given the opportunity to seize the day just as we did when we were young.'" He looked to his sister. "I'll drop them off later, okay?"

Candace, her face devoid of any emotion as she stared fixedly into nothing, only nodded. Her white-knuckled hands clasped and unclasped in her lap, but she didn't seem to be aware of what she was doing. Vanessa found the unconscious gesture somewhat unsettling.

Phineas returned his attention to the will and proceeded to read off various other bequests. They were all small things, seemingly trivial to Vanessa but probably bearing some significance to the close friends and associates of the deceased. After all, they were the ones who had spent their lives around him, in his good company. She was not one of them.

As the time passed, Vanessa became steadily more anxious. What could Ferb have possibly left her in his will? They had not spoken for years—not since... that night. She was responsible for nearly tearing apart his marriage. She couldn't fathom what could have prompted him to leave her anything, unless it was a vial of poison or something. A second after thinking it, Vanessa felt a pang of guilt in her gut. He wasn't like that. Ferb was much too good for that... much too good for her.

"'And to Vanessa Doofenshmirtz...'"

Vanessa looked up edgily at the sound of her name, the knot in her stomach tightening. This was it.

"'...I leave the carved wooden box from the desk in my study, knowing that she will find enjoyment in the beauty of its design.'" Phineas procured a small, narrow box from his desk and stepped over to her, handing it over personally. It was difficult to interpret the look on his face—it was a sort of sadness, mixed with slight encouragement and pity.

Vanessa could not summon any words as she took the box from his hands. It was maybe a foot long and three inches wide, and made of elegantly carved mahogany. The patterns became indiscernible as her eyes blurred with tears. She didn't deserve something of such beauty.

From across the room, she could hear someone vehemently whispering for someone else to keep it down. Whoever they were arguing with, however, was certainly not troubling to lower their voice.

"I just don't understand why," Ferb's wife was muttering loudly, "he would give something to her. She didn't mean anything to him. I don't even know why he would even bother to give a pity gift... maybe as a thanks for a good time?"

Vanessa's heart tripped a beat, and though she knew that it was a bad idea, she slowly brought her vision around to the widow.

The woman, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen, stabbed Vanessa with another scathing glare. "You hear me, you... you jezebel? You didn't mean anything to him." She raised one hand and pointed an accusing finger in Vanessa's direction. "Anything. You're nothing but a whore. A lying, stealing whore."

Vanessa stood up so abruptly that her chair toppled sideways. She did not stop to pick it up as she darted for the door. She thought that she might have heard Phineas calling her name, but the yells of the bitter widow filled her ears and chased her from city hall.

Only once she was at the door of her apartment did she pause for a breath. Leaning back against the doorframe, she clutched the box to her chest and broke into a cascade of tears. She wasn't sure if it was because of the stinging venom of the woman's words—or because she feared they were true.

.*.

The faint red numerals on the bedside digital clock announced that it wasn't quite six-thirty in the morning. Early dawn was just beginning to strain through the curtains, washing the quiet room in a feeble light.

Vanessa groaned and rolled back over on the bed, determined to find sleep. It was much too early to be awake, and yet she had been startled awake by... what? A dream? She couldn't remember; whatever it was slowly trickled from her sleepy consciousness and into a mist of indifference.

She reached one arm out, unconsciously seeking John's chest over which to drape it, but she found nothing but bed sheets. Reopening one bleary eye, she peered dazedly at the emptiness, uncomprehending. John had gone out to a party the previous night, after telling her that he would be home sometime after midnight, don't worry about it...

Vanessa closed her eye and sighed into the pillow. The answer was simple. He had simply not returned. It wasn't the first time one of his promises had gone unfulfilled. He was most likely passed out at the host's house, or asleep in his car somewhere, or in a ditch... Vanessa found that she didn't particularly care at that moment. She merely drew the blankets tighter around her body, refocusing on falling back to sleep.

After what seemed to be an eternity, Vanessa rolled back over to check the clock. Seven minutes had passed since she last saw the time. Giving up, she sat up and stretched. There wasn't going to be much for her to do at that hour, but rest was proving futile. Listening carefully for the sounds of the television, Vanessa heard only silence, and decided that Amber was still asleep. She found herself envious of her daughter.

Vanessa slowly heaved herself out of bed and stumbled around in the half-light until she found her housecoat. As she slipped her arms through the sleeves, she found herself looking at the small wooden box that had been sitting on her desk for the past couple of days. The sight of it raised a small lump in her throat, and she sat at the desk, not taking her eyes away from the largely unimposing box. It was strange that something so simple could intimidate her so.

Until this moment, she had been far too afraid to open it. Hesitantly, she picked up the box. Upon close observation, she could truly appreciate the amount of detail that had been chiselled into the mahogany. The pattern was a tangle of fine vines and tiny roses, each carved with such precision that it seemed as if they might be real. Vanessa had no doubt that Ferb had carved the box himself.

She flipped open the hasp that held the box closed. With a deep breath, she lifted the lid, and for a moment she was too scared to even look at the contents. Her eyes fluttered shut before she could see anything.

The scent of a dry perfume drifted toward her, reminiscent of potpourri. Finally giving into curiosity, she reopened her eyes and cast her vision upon the contents.

The box was lined with faded burgundy satin that showed evidence of careful upkeep despite its obvious age. Bedded in the thin cushioning was a single rose, long since dead and dried. Though entirely browned, the flower was perfectly preserved. Not a single petal was cracked, and every leaf was free of chips.

Vanessa was momentarily breathless. She did not want to touch the flower for fear of it crumbling to dust beneath her fingertips. It was then that she noticed the small piece of paper tucked into the lid of the box. Hands shaking, she plucked up the paper and unfolded it. On it was writing, a thin, elegant script that almost bordered on cursive. Though she had never seen Ferb's handwriting, she would have immediately recognized it regardless.

Vanessa—

If you are reading this note, then I am certain you are aware of the circumstances. You may be wondering why I have bequeathed upon you this lifeless plant. Please allow me to explain.

You may not recall, for it was so many years ago, but we once stood together on the deck of the Eiffel Tower. I told you that if you love someone, you must meet them halfway. In hopes of holding true to my own words, I purchased you this rose, only to find that you had departed. I had tried to meet you halfway... a little too late.

I kept the rose, however. Please accept it now as a token of my love—of me meeting you halfway, despite all the forces of nature that have sought to work against us. Heaven, or whatever may await me, knows that it was not easy for either of us.

Vanessa, do not grieve for me. Remember only the positive, and cherish the memories. I only ask that you forgive me for being too late. This rose is the best I could do.

Forever and always, yours most truly,

Ferb Fletcher

Vanessa was stunned. She reread the note once, twice, three times, until she had memorized every single one of his words. So struck was she by this post-script to his life that she couldn't even begin to cry. For one terrible, beautiful second, she was back on the observation deck of the Eiffel Tower, surrounded by smog and the awe-striking sprawl of Paris far below her feet. She could almost feel the cool metal rails beneath her arms as she gazed into nothingness, lamenting to Ferb about her father's inadequacies. And, clear as day, she could hear his voice assuring her that love meant meeting someone halfway. At the time, she had taken it as a friendly consolation that she could bond with her father if she tried, but now she was hearing his words in a completely different light.

With a rush of both regret and posthumous joy, Vanessa clutched the note to her chest and finally let the tears escape. Sobs racked her entire frame as she remembered him, how he had always been eager to help her when they were young. After the affair, she had thought that he wanted nothing to do with her, that he had hated her regardless of how he had felt in their youth... but this note changed everything.

He hadn't hated her.

Despite everything, he had still loved her.

Vanessa was finally able to still her sobs and wipe the tears from her cheeks. Looking again to the note, she took in every detail of the careful penmanship, knowing that she was holding one of the final vestiges of Ferb's love. And the rose... so pristine in its age. It was beautiful—a true symbol of a carefully hidden and well-maintained love that had lasted throughout the years.

She gently caressed the rose with one finger, imagining that he had presented it to her directly. It wasn't his fault that he had been a little too late. She had merely left a little too early. There was no saying how things might have turned out if he had given the rose to her before she could run off; maybe the affair wouldn't have happened. Maybe it wouldn't have been an affair at all. Maybe Amber would have had a father—

All of the hypothetical notions and impossibilities were hurting her heart even further. She decided to shelve the maybes and focus on the most important thing, the real thing: even though she had broken his heart and nearly destroyed his marriage, he had loved her enough to let it all go. But now he was gone. And yet, in death, he had still been able to help her out, to save her from a gnawing guilt that had affected her for a good portion of her life. The simple note with his eloquent words and the dried rose had lifted a great worry from her chest. Even though any chance of redemption was dead and gone, she felt relieved. He had loved her anyway.

She knew, too, that she still loved him.

.*.

The gravestone wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Out of respect, Phineas had merely engraved a polished stone, beautiful in its heartfelt simplicity, and had it installed at the head of the grave.

Vanessa looked over the inscription, made in a clear-cut font. As with every gravestone, it listed his name, dates of death and birth, and a small message praising his role as a loving brother, son, and husband. The last part was nearly laughable, but Vanessa felt far too sombre to laugh at such a thing.

Instead, she smiled wanly. "So that's what Ferb stands for," she murmured to herself.

Casting a surreptitious look around, she pulled an object encased in plastic from within her coat. Extracting the object from the wrapper, she held it a moment while she thought of words that could express how she was feeling. Vocalizing her emotions had never been her strong suit. After years as a cynical teenager who kept everything except for her snide complaints bottled up, divulging her heart was no easy feat, especially in this situation. Nothing seemed appropriate, or even good enough for someone as good as Ferb had been. Too good for her. And yet...

Holding a freshly cut rose to her chest, she took a deep breath. "Listen, Ferb, it's weird for me to be talking to your grave, but since I didn't really get a chance before... you know... I—I just hope you know that I'm not mad at you for, um, being late. I guess I'm mad at myself for not noticing what you meant. I see it now, and... it actually kills me inside. I don't—I don't deserve the love of someone as amazing as you, but you still cared enough about someone like me to give me that—that rose..." Her voice began to shake. She sniffed and wiped her eyes, drawing strength from the memory of his benign expression. "It's so stupid by now, but... I wish it wasn't like this. I wish everything could have been different. I wish that you could have met your daughter. Amber would have loved you."

Vanessa thought of Amber, back home while John looked after her. The image filled her with a great sadness. John was not Amber's father, and he never would be. She would never accept him as such. Vanessa wondered in passing how different things would have been if Amber's real daddy had been present in her life.

"So, I guess that this is really the best I can do," Vanessa continued, her voice a pained hush. "I hope you can forgive me for leaving too early. I... I love you. Yours truly, forever and always." And after echoing his words, she placed the rose at the foot of the gravestone. It was a small token, hardly comparing to the luxurious bouquets that his many admirers and family members had adorned the grave with, but she felt that she couldn't have left anything more appropriate.

"I miss you," Vanessa whispered, tears forming once again. "I'm sorry for everything."

Well, sometimes if you love somebody, you have to meet them halfway.

Casting one final glance at the single rose lying on the freshly turned earth, Vanessa knew that, in the end, they had both done exactly that.

A/N: It feels good to have finally finished this one, considering how long it's been in the works. Despite my increasing love for Ferbella, I will always have a soft spot for Ferbessa (especially since Word of God basically says it's canon). Hope you all enjoyed it, and remember - reviews are love!