Honestly, I'm a bit surprised I haven't seen a story like this yet. Either I'm the first one to think of this, or the first one brave enough to publish it. (If you've already published this idea before, I apologize. I haven't read that story yet.)

Here's the thing, though. Many of you readers are going to hate me for writing this idea. Especially die-hard Phinbella supporters. I will say this much, though - I do not pair Phineas or Isabella with anyone else. I just put them in a position where their relationship is impossible. Whether you like it or not, I decided to publish this story. Deal with it.

If you think this story isn't for you, then I recommend that you stop now and read some other story. Don't say I didn't warn you.


Linda Flynn-Fletcher took another look at her kids. Right now, they were sitting at the breakfast table, eating, without a worry in the world. Did they have any idea what had happened on this day? Of course not. It was such a long time ago - Candace was still a little girl, not even five years old, when it happened.

"Mom? You okay?" Phineas asked. His mom smiled. That was Phineas - always looking out for others.

"I'm fine, Phineas. Thanks for asking," she replied.

"It's just... you look a little sadder than usual today."

In that split second, Linda made a decision. "Phineas? Candace? It's time I showed you something that I... that I should've showed you a long time ago."

"What?" asked Phineas and Candace simultaneously.

"Get in the car, please. We have to drive to it."

Detecting the hint of sadness in their mom's voice, the three children (Ferb was sitting there eating as well) got up and began walking to the car.

"Not you, Ferb. Please?" Linda asked, nodding solemnly to her husband. "Lawrence, can you watch Ferb today?"

Mr. Flynn-Fletcher nodded, knowing what this was all about. "Of course, honey."

"What? Why can't Ferb come?" Linda chuckled a bit at Phineas' comment. Why wouldn't he would want to bring Ferb along. He didn't even know what this was all about, much less realize how important it was to him, and how little it would mean to Ferb.

"This... isn't really about Ferb," Linda answered. "I think it's better that he doesn't come. Please don't argue with that."

"I... uhhh..." Phineas turned and saw the look in his dad's eyes - as sad as his mom's. Realizing how important this could be to him, he conceded. "Yes, mom."

Linda breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. I know how much you love Ferb, but I really want just you for this trip. Besides, it's just one day, right? Now, would you and Candace get in the car, please?"

Reluctantly, Phineas walked to the red station wagon, followed by Candace. Both kids were wondering what this was all about.


"Mom? Are you feeling alright? You seem... sad today." Isabella asked, noticing the solemn look on her mother's face that morning. Vivian Garcia-Shapiro chuckled. Of course she didn't know what this was about. She hadn't even been born when it happened.

"I'm fine, Isa. It's... nothing."

"Really? It doesn't look like like nothing."

"It's okay, Isa. I'm fine."

"What, is today some obscure Jewish holiday that I don't know about? Come on, mom. I know there's something going on."

Vivian stopped for a minute, lost deep in thought. No matter how badly she wanted to keep it secret, Isabella did have a right to know. This was quite important to her, after all, even if she knew so little about it. In that moment, Vivian made her decision.

"Get in the car, please."

"Why?" Isabella asked.

"You're right, Isa. There is something special about today, and you deserve to know. I... just don't want to talk about it, so I'm going to show you. Would you get in the car?"

Isabella hesitated. She saw the look in her mom's eyes. She could tell that this was really important to her mom, and that it could be just as important to herself. But, seeing the sadness in those same eyes, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know.

"Please, Isa? You need to know this. I... I should've said something a long time ago."

"Yes, mom." Isabella gave her answer, stood up, and began walking to the car.


"Mom? What is this all about?" asked Candace. "Why won't you tell us?" The teenage girl, along with Phineas and their mom, were in their car, headed towards a destination known only to the eldest of the three.

"I don't feel comfortable talking to you about it, Candace, but you have a right to know. I shouldn't have kept this secret so long. You two kids deserve the truth." Linda responded, rather cryptically.

"But you're still not telling us what the truth is!" Candace complained. "If we have a right to know, how come you're not telling us?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Candace. So I'm going to show you. We're almost there," answered Candace's mother, trying as hard as she could to keep her emotions in check. "Please don't ask me."

Meanwhile, Phineas was beginning to form his own ideas about this all. While Candace had been arguing with his mom, Phineas' creative mind was buzzing. What could his mom want him to see, but not Ferb?

Looking out the window, Phineas noticed a sign. Reading the sign, an idea began forming in his mind. An idea Phineas was not too happy with. It made horrible, yet perfect, sense - the forlorn looks, the lack of Ferb, the reluctance to speak.

Please don't let it be what I think it is, Phineas pleaded silently, taking another look at the sign he had just passed. There were only two words written it: Danville Cemetery.


"Why are we here?" Isabella asked, stepping out of the car, though the young girl had a horrible feeling that she knew why.

"Your father..." Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro began, before trailing off. Isabella didn't blame her - she knew her mother was very sensitive about the topic.

"He's dead, isn't he?" asked Isabella, saying the words she had been fearing the whole car ride. "That's why we're at the Danville Cemetery, right?"

Vivian nodded. "He died on this day, eleven years ago. You weren't even born yet."

"What was he like?" Isabella asked, hoping to bring a lighter note to this sad day.

"I... I don't really know," her mother responded. "I didn't even know him for more than a year. For the longest time, I thought he was everything I looked for in a man. I thought he was perfect for me - loving, helpful, always looking out for others, easy to get along with. But..." she trailed off again.

"But what?" Isabella asked.

"But when he found out I was Jewish, he hated me. He started being really mean to me - hitting me, screaming at me, torturing me. Eventually, I called the police. He threatened me at gunpoint, so when the police showed up..."

She hesitated for a moment, before continuing.

"It didn't end well. They shot him, killing him. I didn't even go to his funeral."

Isabella just stood there, shocked. There were two things she couldn't believe - first, that such racist people still existed in the world, and second, that her own mother had been abused by one of them. However, there was still more that needed to be said.

"But the worst part was that he... he was only pretending to be the man of my dreams. The only time he was the man I wanted, I found out, was when I could see or hear him. So the man I fell in love with - the man who became your father - was a great actor, not a great guy. Even so, I don't think he deserved to die. You know how I don't believe in the death penalty." Isabella's mother was crying now. "I'm so happy you didn't turn out like him, mi hija."

Isabella hugged her mother. "I'm so sorry, mom."


Here lies the body of Oliver Clark.

"Who was he, mom?" Phineas asked, looking at the words on the gravestone. However, the boy had a horrible feeling that he already knew the answer.

"Your real father," Linda said, confirming Phineas' fears. "He died before Candace even turned five. I don't expect either of you to remember him."

"What was he like?" Candace asked.

Mrs. Flynn-Fletcher hesitated. "Well, you two deserve the truth, so I guess I better tell you. Your father was funny, friendly, courageous, and determined - everything I dreamed a man would be. Or so I thought."

"It turns out, your father was only like that wherever and whenever I could see or hear him. Whenever I turned my back, he showed his true colors - he really was a selfish, cruel, racist jerk. The only reason he dated me was because I was a pop star. When I found out who he really was, I broke up with him. We never even got married. So he ran away, I think somewhere near Mexico, and less than a year later, he died. I don't know exactly how - I think it involved the police somehow. I was so mad, though, that I didn't even go to his funeral."

Candace and Phineas stood there, jaws hanging open. How could their father be such a mean man? It just didn't make sense. Phineas understood why his mom didn't want to bring Ferb along. Reaching into her pocket, Mrs. Flynn-Fletcher pulled out a photo.

"This was your father," she said, showing the two kids the picture.

It was a simple photo - just a picture showing the face of the now-dead Oliver Clark. He was a strange-looking man, to say the least.

Just a few of his more notable features were his triangular head and long neck. His eyes were a dark brown, but if you looked closely, you could almost see a yellow glare in them. He smiled in such a way that it looked like he was happy, yet, if you knew what kind of man he really was, you could tell that it was really an evil smile. His hair was raven-black, neatly combed in a half-circle around the top of his head. All in all, he looked like a nice, well-meaning guy. At least, at a glance.


Handing the photo to Candace, Phineas turned to take another look at the grave, when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Whirling around to get a better look, he saw a girl, about his age, walking around with her mother. What surprised him even more, though, was that he recognized the girl. A pink dress and bow, raven-black hair - it couldn't be anybody else.

"Isabella?" Phineas asked, walking up to the girl and her mother.

Isabella spun around to find a red-haired, triangular headed boy approaching her. "Phineas? What are you doing here?"

Phineas hesitated. After the story he had just heard from his mom, he decided that his father was a touchy subject to talk about. Well, I don't have to tell her everything, he decided, finding the right words to say.

"My... My real father died today, eleven years ago. Mom took Candace and I to see him. Why are you here?"

"You're kidding, right?" Isabella asked in disbelief. Her father had died on the same day that Phineas mentioned.

"Why would I kid about something like this?"

"It's just..." Isabella stopped. Knowing what kind of man her father was, she didn't really want to talk about him much. He doesn't need to know everything, she reasoned, before continuing.

"My dad died on the same day you say your dad did. I wasn't even born yet."

Now it was Phineas' turn to stand there, shocked. "I... I don't know what to say to that."

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything," Isabella said, hoping to draw the conversation away from her father.

Phineas, however, was glad to have something to talk about besides his father. "Is this your dad's grave?" He asked, motioning to a nearby gravestone.
"No, of course not. This man died in March." Isabella said, getting desperate to change the subject. "We're still looking for his grave. Where's your dad buried?"

"Over by mom and Candace," Phineas replied, pointing to the two girls. The questions Isabella was asking didn't fall into the category Phineas wanted to stay away from - yet.

"What's his name?" asked Isabella, trying to keep Phineas away from the topic of her father.

"Oliver Clark."

Vivian Garcia-Shapiro, who had been staying quiet the whole time, gasped. It couldn't be... could it? No. It must be a coincidence. Just like the fact that they had died on the same day.

"Mom?" Isabella asked, turning to her mother. "Is something wrong?"

Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro hesitated. There was no way that it could possibly... was there?

"Mom?" Isabella asked again.

"I'm sure it's nothing, Isa."

"What's nothing?"

"It's just... Isa, your father's name was..."

"Was what, mom?" Isabella asked, fearing the answer.

As much as she didn't want to, Isabella's mother spoke.

"Isa, your father's name was Oliver Clark."


Yeah, you hate me, right? I thought so. I come up with the most tragic ideas. I will admit, this is the first story I can't find a "perfect" ending to. Please read and review. Even if you wholeheartedly hate the idea, at least tell me it's well-written (even if its not well-written, do it to boost my self-esteem). Besides, it's not like I didn't warn you.