PLEASE READ FIRST:
So this is a little story I thought up awhile ago, but don't have the time to write out fully. The plot is basically this:Phineas and Ferb are, for reasons I haven't sorted yet, messing with the Time Machine again, and Candace is, of course, trying to bust them. Through a series of events Phineas and Candace are accidentally transported back into the past, to an older, hippier Danville. Unfortunately the Time Machine is damaged and they are unable to return home right away; Phineas thinks to go to the Danville University in hopes that maybe one of the Professors can help them in fixing it (or at least give Phineas the tools to fix it himself). Through the crowd Candace spots a man Phineashad never met before; their father, Marcas Morrison.
Despite Phineas warning his sister about the dangers of interacting with personal lives in the past, Candace takes the opportunity to see her father again, and the two enter the life of one very surprised Marcas. After the initial shock and eventually acceptance that his future kids are visiting him, he gets his friend Phillip, a slightly snobbish genius, to help him repair the time machine so that his children can return home before they suffer consequences of staying out of their timeline for too long.
This story picks up at the very end of it all. Please note that this is NOT Marcas's official appearance; he has a story that will be completely separate from this, and his personality and background will differ as well. Think of this as more of an Alternate Universe Marcas, if you will. One who was needed only for this story. This story, like many of my other ones, is uploaded from my phone and for some reason it messes with the format, smushing some words together. I try to fix all of them but if I miss some I am sorry.
I hope you enjoy!
"All right, I…I've done it!" Marcas looked down at the small, rectangular device in his hands, bewildered and delighted all at once; he couldn't help the slightly hysterical laughter that crept into his voice as he continued, "I've actually done it! I just made time-travel possible! I-"
"Yeah, ok, that's great," Phillip adjusted his glasses as he gave what Marcas was surprised to see reminiscent of a scowl, "-one little thing though; your kids are still dissolving from reality!"
"Oh! Right!" Marcas shook his head, gripping a handful of his thick, crimson hair as he struggled to organize his thoughts, "Ok-um-ok, the coordinates should work but I don't know how long I can keep the connection open-kids! How are you doing?"
He looked over to-what would someday be-his son and daughter. Phineas currently had one arm over his sister's shoulder as he crouched beside her on the sidewalk, calmly instructing her to take deep breathes as she clutched her chest, still heaving from her previous panic attack.
Candace looked up with glossy, reddened eyes, her voice quivering as she spoke, "I…I can't feel anything…dad, I…" She began to cry again, her words choking on sobs as she huddled in closer to herself, "I can't feel my owns hands, or the ground, I-I can't even feel my own heartbeat, dad, why can't I feel my heartbeat, what's going on, I should be able to feel it, why can't I feel it-!"
Marcas froze for a moment as he watched her, and though some paternal instinct in him told him to offer her comfort, he simply didn't know what to say. He watched as Phineas removed his arm from his sisters shoulders and grabbed her face instead, forcing her eyes up towards him.
"Candace," His voice became firm, but insisted on remaining calm as he spoke to her, each word deliberate and slow, "Candace, look at me. You're fine. We aren't supposed to be here, and our bodies are having trouble maintaining stability in this time period. Your senses are turning off so that your body can preserve its energy for sustaining its form. You're ok, we're ok. Dad's fixed the time machine, so we can go home and your body will return to normal; do you understand? …Candace, you have to answer me; do you understand what I'm telling you?"
Candace looked up to her brother with a catatonic stare. She was somewhat aware of his voice starting to rise at her, but before she could make out the words his voice began to fade, leaving only silence as his mouth continued to open and close at her. At some point he turned away from her and seemed to be calling out to someone, and before she knew it her brother's face became distant as she was picked up and carried away. A part of her thought to fight, to squirm until she was put down and make her way back over to Phineas, but she was beginning to forget why being next to him was so important to begin with.
She glanced to the person who was gently setting her down in what she faintly acknowledged to be the time machine. His hair was red, but so much redder than hers, or her brothers, or her mothers, and she wondered why that seemed significant to her, or why his beard made her think of afternoons on the couch when she was a child. Alone on the big, green couch…no…Candace closed her eyes and thought harder. No, there was someone with her on the couch; wasn't there? They sat next to her, and her skin would itch whenever they gave her a kiss on the cheek, because their beard was never trimmed and the hairsfelt like one of those aluminum scrubbing brushes.
Marcas stared at his daughter as she laid her head against the back of the seat, her eyes closed and head occasionally turning from side to side. Her expression was scrunched up in what appeared to be distress or frustration, and he tentatively reached out to cup her cheek in his hand. For a moment she stopped fidgeting, and he wondered if she had regained her sense of touch; she didn't make any effort to move again, though, and her skin was beginning to feel feverish and clammy against his hand.
He looked over to Phineas, who appeared to be double-checking his calculations with Phillip, and before he could think about it the question blurted out, "Phineas, can you feel anything?"
The boy looked up at him from his paperwork, and he blinked, his innocent eyes looking at him as if he didn't understand why he would ask such a thing, "No, I can't feel anything; remember? It's just like I was telling Candace…"
Marcas nodded slowly, his eyes trailing back over to Candace before letting his hand fall from her cheek. His future daughter was deteriorating in front of him, and her face was still stained with her tears; but his son...
He stole another look over to Phineas, and the boy was smiling up to Phillip as they seemed to confirm that all numbers were in order. His son was fine. He was clam, and collected, and couldn't feel the ground beneath him or even his own had never felt such an odd mixture of pride, and mortal terror.
"Ok, dad, looks like everything's in order; I better head back with Candace before our bodies start shutting down-are you ok?"
Marcas hadn't realized he'd been watching his son that intently until the boy tilted his head at him curiously. He shook himself out of his own thoughts and walked over to where his friend and child stood, both looking at him wearily, as if he was the one they should be worried about.
"Oh, it's nothing, really." He assured them both, and then bent to meet Phineas at eye level, placing his hands on his tiny shoulders, "Ready to go home?"
Phineas nodded up to him, his expression tired, but still smiling, "Yeah; I would have liked to stay longer, but you know, those pesky time and dimension laws and all that."
"All right, it's the moment of truth." Phillip picked up the small device that Marcas had been meddling with only moments ago, and pointed it towards the machine where Candace sat sleeping. The equipment began to whirl, buzzing to life as it pulsed with renewed energy.
Phillip smirked his satisfaction and looked back to the father and son before him. His eyes landed on Phineas, and the smile fell from his lips, "I don't know how long the device will keep your machine going. Best use it now while it's working."
"He's right, dad. Well, I guess this is goodbye." Phineas stuck an awkward hand out to his father, uncertain what the protocol was for leaving your future parent for the first, and last, time.
Marcas only chuckled and took his hand, giving him a good, firm shake as he looked at him, "Goodbye, Phineas. Be safe, and take care of your sister."
"I will." Phineas nodded and scampered over to the machine. He was half-way to his seat when he hesitated, his hand hovering over the machines armrest.
He had to leave. That wasn't really a choice; his body had to return to stability before he began to lose more of his senses, like Candace had. He needed to leave.
Still.
Still, maybe he could just mention-
Phineas pursed his lips, considering his options. He could warn Marcas of what would someday happen to him; March 18th, 1997. Candace had told him the date and everything. He even knew it was sometime in the evening. All Phineas had to do was tell him not to go driving that day, and maybe his fathers death could be avoided. Maybe this didn't have to be the last he ever saw of him.
Except that would mean his mother would never meet his dad-his other dad, his step-dad; Lawrence. The only dad Phineas had ever known. The dad that had stayed up with him through every nightmare-filled night, the dad that told him stories he only half understood; the dad that took him fishing and ruffled his hair and snuck him chocolate donuts every Tuesday morning even after he had his first cavity and his mother temporarily put a ban on sugar. His dad.
"Phineas?"
He'd lose Ferb, too. They'd no longer be brothers; it was possible they'd never even meet at all. There'd be no one to share his room with, or sit under the big tree in the backyard.
"Phineas, Phillip said we don't have long-what's wrong? You need to go before the energy runs out."
He wouldn't even have the big tree in his backyard, come to think of it. His mother and Candace had lived in a different house back when Marcas had been alive, before Phineas had been born. No tree, different house-he wouldn't even be neighbors with Isabella. Maybe he wouldn't even live in the same neighborhood. He might not even meet Baljeet and Buford. Everything could change; every aspect of his life.
"Phillip, I don't know what's going on with him. I'm gonna go strap him in."
Oh, no; would he even still have Perry?
Phineas was jolted from his thoughts when he was suddenly pulled forward ever so-slightly, a hand grabbing at his arm. He looked up and saw Marcas staring back at him, his expression etched with confusion and concern. The older man lifted him up easily and set him down in his seat, gently buckling his seat belt as he kept a careful eye on him. He seemed to pause after the buckle was safely latched, his hand wavering towards him before finally resting on the top of his head. Marcas looked uncomfortable with the gesture, but within seconds his touch became more confidant and he began to slightly tousle Phineas's red, messy hair; Phineas felt nothing.
"Hey." Marcas lowered his tone to what he hoped was a comforting murmur as he continued to affectionately rumple the young boys hair, "It's all going to be ok. You're almost home…you, uh…you've been really brave today, Phineas. You should be proud of yourself; ok?"
'I'm not proud.' The thought raced across Phineas's mind as his cheeks paled, his frazzled nerves causing his body to tremble, 'I'm not proud. I'm going to let you die. I'm not proud at all.'
Marcas frowned as he noticed his sons small frame shuddering. He looked like he wanted to say something else, some sort of reassurance for the poor child, but found the words lost somewhere in the back of his throat. He settled instead for offering him a vague smile and small pat on the back before climbing out of the machine.
Taking the boys hand, Marcas placed it on the machine's lever, and started to slowly back away, "I can't pull the lever for you, Phineas. It might take me to your time, and who knows if I could come back? You have to pull it. Come on, now, you can do it."
He watched as Phineas's eyes darted back and forth, not looking at the lever, but somehow beyond it, too lost in his own thoughts to truly see it. His sons blue eyes darted up to him, wide and lost, looking at him as though he could offer some form of guidance.
Marcas was at a loss of what to do. He began to turn around and retrieve Phillip in some grasping hope that maybe he would be able to snap Phineas out of his current state, but a small voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Dad, wait!"
Phineas's words came so quickly and abrupt that it caused Marcas to jump. He looked back at him, perplexed, but turned around, "Yes, Phineas?"
"I have to tell you something." The boy breathed, but his face still retained that of mild dread. Marcas made his way next to him, placing his hand on the machines arm rest as he searched his son's expression for what could be wrong.
"It's ok, Phineas, you can tell me, I-oh." Something clicked just then. Marcas's eyes widened, and his voice lowered to a whisper, "…oh."
Everything made sense just then; why only Candace had been the one to recognize him out of the crowd, why Phineas had so many strange questions, why he had continually stared at him, but at a safe distance. He hadn't been staring; he'd been studying him, taking in his features…because he had never seen him before that moment.
"…you don't know me, do you?" Marcas's voice came out in an undertone, barely audible even to his own ears. Phineasonly looked up at him with pleading, torn eyes; and, in a slightly odd way, Marcas felt a little relieved. Through-out the entire ordeal Phineas had been so calm, so grown-up, but now as he looked up at him, he looked like a normal 10-year-old boy; onewho had no clue what to do.
"Dad…on Mar-"
"Phineas." He interrupted quickly, placing a hand on bothsides of his sons shoulders as he looked at him, keeping his voice low, "If you don't know me…well, I can only guess why, but no matter what the reason is…Phineas, sometimes things just happen, and they have to happen that way…do you understand?"
Phineas didn't answer him, but he didn't look like he understood, his composure on the edge of breaking as he looked up at him. Marcas felt his own self-control falter as his heart pounded in his ears, his thoughts heavy and hazy as he tried to wrap his potential future around his head.
"You can't tell me." Marcas insisted, trying to ignore the dark thoughts that lingered, "No matter what it is, you can't tell me. It could have disastrous results in your time. No one should know that…their future, I mean." He quickly amended when he saw Phineas's eyes show a hint of watering.
It was too late though. Phineas lowered his head and tried to hide his breakage, but Marcas knew the sound of his stifled sniffles all too well. He stood leaning on the arm rest, uncertain, and glanced to the machine, taking note of how it's whirling was beginning to weaken. He took a deep, slow breath, and carefully leaned over until he was able to wrap Phineas up against him, pressing the boy into his chest and kindly not bringing attention to the tears that soaked through his shirt.
"Phineas." He murmured into his hair, giving him a squeeze when the boy stilled against him, "You have to go now. You're almost out of power."
A few more sniffles followed, and Phineas tried his best to subtly rub the wetness from his cheeks. He pulled back and met his father with a braver face than he'd worn moments ago, his lips pressed firmly together and his eyes determined. Marcas nodded at him and slowly stepped back, letting his arms fall away from him. Phineas only straightened and placed a firm hand on the machines lever.
He met Marcas's eyes once more, and, despite everything, offered him a smile, "Goodbye, Dad."
Marcas did his best to return the smile, and gave him a weak wave as he watched his son pull the lever, fading from his view, "Goodbye…"
The machine dissolved from view, leaving a split second of what looked to be a portal in its wake. Marcas tried to stifle a sniffle as he turned away, and didn't see the green beam that came out of the portal and collided with the back of his head.
He stumbled, blinking and holding his head, and suddenly it occurred to him that he had no idea what he was doing here; in fact, the entire day seemed fuzzy. He looked around and saw Phillip walking towards him, giving him a curious look.
"Hey, Phil," Marcas rubbed the back of his head as looked at his friend, baffled, "Uh…what's going on?"
"Oh, nothing. Just recovering from your touching moment, that's all."
"What?"
Phillip stopped walking and blinked at him, taken off guard, "Well…with your son, just now."
"My, uh…my son?" Marcas looked at him as though he'd finally gone insane, "Phil...I think you need to take a break from all your study sessions."
"You don't know what I'm talking about." Phillip stated the fact rather than question it, and if Marcas didn't know better, he'd say his friend looked absolutely annoyed.
"Well, I don't have any children, so…"
Phillip only stared at him, then sighed and pushed his glasses up in order to rub at his eyes, grumbling under his breath, "…fine. Fine then. Pretend you don't know. I don't care."
"…don't know what?"
"See you later, Marcas."
"Phil, wait!" Marcas went to follow his friend as he turned his heel on him, but stopped when he realized his backpack was laying a few feet away, open with tools scattered about.
"Huh, that's weird…" He bent down to his bag and began packing away his things, his mind boggled, unsure of how an entire day could have gone by without him having remembered any of it.
"Need any help?"
Marcas glanced up to see a girl with long, ginger hair smiling at him. He vaguely recalled seeing her before, and smiled back at her, "Oh, no, it's ok, thank you."
She nodded, but seemed to look a little hurt at the rejection. He caught her just as she was about to withdraw, his voice surprising him as he called out, "Didn't we have a class together?"
The girl turned back to him, smiling uncertainly, "Um, yeah. Biology, remember?"
The memory came back to him. He laughed at his own mistake and finished zipping up his back pack, "Oh yeah! Linda,right? Weren't you the girl that threw her book at the professor?"
She huffed, but he thought she looked a little proud as she justified herself, "He wanted to, like, dissect frogs. Totally not ok, you know?"
Marcas laughed and stood, throwing his backpack on as he threw the girls slang back at her, "Totally."
"You know, I think that's, like, the first time I've heard you talk like that."
"Yeah, we don't talk like that where I'm from."
Linda blinked at him, tilting her head, "Oh yeah? So, um, where are you from?"
"Scotland, originally." Marcas smiled, and before he knew it the two were walking together, side by side as she looked at him.
"Like, really?"
"Like really." He laughed, and continued to explain how he had moved from Scotland, to New York, to California, then Washington, and all down the list. She never changed the subject, or excused herself when they reached the school campus. They eventually sat down at a table and continued talking, and somehow Marcas forgot all about Phillip and his strange talk of 'sons' and 'touching moments'.
Oh well. It was probably nothing.