So...guess who went on a two-week trip to Germany and totally forgot that she had three chapters of a new story written up, waiting for publication?
Guilty.
Normally, I'm not actually one for "grown-up"-version stories, especially for kids' shows that I like just as they are, but this idea got into my head and wouldn't go away. I really wanted a way to reassure myself that, if Phineas and Ferb ever actually did grow up (which they won't, but y'know what I mean), they would be able to stay together and everything would be same as when they were kids. I know all of us wish that was possible, huh? hehe
Before you think, "Oh, brother, another lame grown-up fic," let me assure you that I've tried to keep it as much like the shows as possible, just with a bit of my own flare *wink*. I really hope you readers enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!
Chapter One
This was the first time Sarah Harrison had ever been to a robotic island before.
Was she enjoying it? Not at all. Was she regretting it with every fiber of her being? Yes; yes, she was.
Oh, it had sounded nice. An entire week of all-expenses-paid trip to the world's first manmade island built entirely of steel and computer. Purified waterfalls so clean one could drink the water, reformed plants systematically dyed with every hue of the visible spectrum, animals and people relaxed with a new, harmless, airborne drug to the point that it was possible to snuggle a tropical snake without fear…and most importantly, the science. She and her teammates would be given the opportunity to monitor the progress of this fantastic island for three entire weeks, just because they were the best scientists which could be found.
Yes, it had sounded perfect.
Nobody said anything about a fifty-something-year-old German scientist appearing out of nowhere and attempting to claim the island for himself using an army of newts, or of the supposedly well-trained technicians' running around like half-mad idiots for three hours before fleeing with every emergency vehicle available—including one rolling cart, or of the evil scientist's (Doofenshmirtz? Was that really German, anyway?) quite suddenly being driven away by a platypus in a black fedora. (This was according to the man who had attempted to escape on the rolling cart and had seen the oddly diplomatic battle between the gawky man and aquatic mammal before being forced to swim back to shore.)
Now, here they were—five people with no violent pasts and no protocols for what to do when stuck on a deserted island in the middle of the Caribbean with no way to communicate with anyone not standing right beside them. All because nobody had bothered alerting them at their resort when someone named Doof had attacked in the middle of the night.
Just great.
"I wish Phineas were here," said a very annoyingly high-pitched voice from somewhere to her right.
Baljeet, one of the programmers and obviously a native of India, looked forlornly down at a battered communications screen, which sat still occasionally sparking with electricity in the main district of the Cycle Control Center. The place was supposed to be invincible, but apparently the designers had not taken into account the possibility of assaulting newts.
Newts. Really. She still did not understand it. This Doofenshmirtz sounded like a real winner.
She, the other program designer, and the trembling security guard (still shivering from his unsuccessful attempt to escape on a rolling cart) looked at him as though he had lost his mind. Of all the things to say after having just discovered they were trapped here until someone realized they were missing, that was definitely the most ambiguous.
The tall, lean young man standing beside the Indian—the one with the strangely natural-looking green hair and whose name tag read simply "Ferb Fletcher"—seemed to understand, however. Of course, he and Baljeet seemed to have known one another already (it was difficult not to know this, as Baljeet's obnoxiously childish voice crying "Oh, Ferb! You are here too! It is fate that we are brought to this wonderful place of learning together!" in the airport at California was hard to misunderstand), so perhaps this "Phineas" person was a mutual acquaintance.
Ferb was almost eerily silent, she'd noted from the beginning. He was tall and thin in a way that made most young men look awkward, but gave him an effortless appearance of grace and intelligence. His hair was, without condition or uncertainty, green, and stuck out at just the right angles on his head to make it look easy and professional all at once. He wore the same clothes he had during their flight the day before—a white button-down and faded plum-colored corduroy trousers. It looked like an old ensemble, but it suited him, she thought. His caramel eyes shifted with a look of almost intimidating intelligence, his small mouth constantly set in a straight line, as if he was thinking deeply always. He did not speak—not ever, to anyone, unless it was absolutely necessary; he only watched, and acknowledged Baljeet when the worrisome student addressed him. He was different, for sure.
Now, at Baljeet's words, he looked up at his old friend. Somehow, his eyes seemed slightly more thoughtful, and a brief and almost invisible look of sadness flickered across his sharp face before vanishing again.
"Right," said the other program designer—Rob, apparently a dedicated Texan, if his ten-gallon hat and raspy slang gave any indication—with a tinge of sarcasm. "What now?"
"What do you mean, what now?" exclaimed the jittery security guard, Mike, rubbing his chubby hands together and loosening his tie around his pudgy neck. "We're trapped here, that's what. Might as well lie on the ground with paper bags over our heads, 'cause here's where we're going to die."
"Must you be so dramatic?" Sarah demanded, tired of hearing the man snivel. "So we're stuck here for a little while; all we have to do is wait until we're rescued. Someone will be back for us, eventually. And in the meantime, we'll eat the food at the resort and live in the nice, furnished rooms, just like we were supposed to."
"Well, you'd better start eating now, if you plan to enjoy another meal on this death trap," choked the red-faced man with a sardonic huff.
"W-what do you mean?" questioned Baljeet, his brown face shadowed with sudden dread, as he moved a little closer to Ferb, who remained impassive.
The shadows of the lightless room stretched weirdly over the man's face as he answered, voice low with somberness,
"The head technicians set the timer before they left us here."
"Meaning?" pressed Rob.
"Meaning that in exactly nine hours and three minutes, Bendita Isla will be a million tiny metal pieces at the bottom of the ocean and we'll be singing Hallelujah on a cloud."
There was a brief silence as the words hung in the air, and then, uneasily,
"But I do not know Hallelujah."
Ferb tilted his head to glance at his quivering Indian friend.
Rob rolled his eyes and swore under his breath.
Sarah paled.
Mike continued to shake.
"Hey, Isabella, where's Perry?"
Isabella Flynn looked up from where she was arranging her boyfriend's clothes in his suitcase, but continued to smooth the wrinkles from the beloved orange-and-white striped T-shirt as she answered,
"I don't know, Phineas. I saw him outside by the street an hour ago. I don't know where he could've gotten to."
Phineas Flynn—world-renowned inventor Phineas Flynn—entered the room, fumbling to redo the strap on his wristwatch after having been tinkering with its mechanisms all morning. (It was a habit to apply all his latest designs to it, if possible. He claimed it was for testing purposes, but Isabella knew he secretly just liked the watch.)
She smiled when she saw him. She always did. She just couldn't help herself when she saw his tangerine locks, sticking up in all directions like wild flames from his head. Even after a year and four months (and twelve days and eighteen hours, the part of her mind dedicated only to Phineas provided) of steady dating, those bright, round, eager blue eyes beaming at her with all their full wonderment never ceased to astound her. And when his delightful face lit up with that familiar, playful grin…? She might as well have turned to mush.
"I wanted to say good-bye to him before we leave," he was saying in a voice that had never actually changed in all the years she'd known him, as he grabbed his wallet and tucked it into his jeans. "Ah, well. I'm sure he'll be okay until we get back."
"It's only for a couple of days, at least," she chimed, hauling their bags from the bed and blowing a strand of dark hair from her eyes. "We'll be back here before he even knows we're gone."
Phineas shrugged with a fond smirk and took the heavy bags from her obligingly.
"I think he'll notice," he said. "After all, he's been sleeping at the foot of my bed since I was ten. But he's smart; he knows we'll be back soon. I wouldn't leave him."
"And Mrs. Barker agreed to check in on him every day," added Isabella. "So even if his food machine breaks, he won't go without eating for very long."
"It won't break," guaranteed Phineas. "Ferb helped me build it. Nothing of his ever messes up."
Isabella knew that if she was not so in-tune with her boyfriend from years of closeness, she would have missed the slight change in his voice on that last sentence. There was an unmistakable undertone of something she'd never quite heard there before; it sounded much like a subtle longing, or perhaps regret. She didn't like it; it sounded plainly wrong tainting the voice of the kindest and most cheerful man she knew.
Still, she knew its source. There was only one thing in Phineas' extraordinary life which could make him unhappy; she'd been expecting it for a long time, in fact.
When Phineas and Ferb had graduated a year ahead of time from the same university (with an incredible amount of awards and notoriety, she added in her head proudly), there had been a distinct sadness between them at their having to go their separate ways. Isabella didn't think that they realized just how big of a change it would be. It had been four full months since they had seen one another, and they hadn't even spoken in three weeks, with Phineas' big conference overseas to advertise his latest enormous and fantastic designs and Ferb's important trip to evaluate the new robotic island that was about to be opened to the public.
They had never been more than a few hours away from each other since they'd met as only small toddlers. Their bond was one which had been immediate and unique, and by the time they were pre-teens, it had reached the point that one did not usually say "Phineas" without adding "and Ferb" to it. Even though they were both young adults now, and more self-reliant than ever, it seemed definitely wrong and unfair that they had to be so far separated; Isabella had always felt in her heart that Phineas and Ferb were never supposed to be like other brothers. Phineas needed Ferb; Ferb needed Phineas. That was how it was supposed to be; that's how it worked.
It almost made her angry at the world for changing and making them all grow up.
Her eyes softened and she rubbed her hand against the curve of his shoulder.
"You should call Ferb, Phineas," she urged gently. "I'm sure he'd be thrilled to hear from you."
Phineas looked up at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he marveled at how well she could read him.
"It's not really the same," he said, the tinge of sadness stronger now that he knew he was not fooling her. "I can't really explain it, but talking on the phone with him is not anything like being with him in person. It's…weird."
"He never was one for talking," she sighed.
"No," he agreed. "Of course, I mostly talk…well, babble," (Isabella smirked at this), "and he mostly listens, just like always. But I can't see him; I can't tell if he likes my ideas and if he agrees with my theories or…what he's thinking, at all. I have to guess what each silence means. It's not his fault, of course," he was quick to add; "that's just who he is. I've never wanted him to be any different. It's just not…."
"…fun?" she provided helpfully.
He sighed.
"Yeah. I love to talk to him and tell him all that's going on, but I don't like being so far away. It's not…"
"…cool?" she interjected again.
He chuckled lightly.
"Not cool at all."
"I wish there was some way you could both still do what you love, and work together, just like you used to. Remember the roller coaster?" She gripped his arm excitedly. "That was one of my favorites."
He smiled, eyes alighting again with that familiar sparkle.
"Mine too. The musical was even more fun, though."
"Yeah. Where'd that music come from, anyway?"
"I don't know. That's why it was fun."
She laughed aloud.
"I wonder if it would still play, if we started singing now." She did not pause before bursting out into song, "Bow chicka-wow-wow. That's what my baby says."
"Maw-maw-maw. And my heart starts pumpin'," he chimed in.
The music started up again, somewhere.
They looked around the room.
"Still works," he declared happily once it had died down.
She laughed again, and they grabbed their suitcases and rushed to catch their flight to Panama City.
Two minutes later, Perry waddled into the room from a secret passage in the bookshelf, having left his cherished hat in the agent instruction room two stories below the house and completely unaware that his beloved master's brother was trapped on an island three thousand miles away…and that Phineas himself was about to fly over that same island, totally oblivious to the adventure that was to change all their lives.
To be continued