Ha ha…never done this before! So, after reading fanfic for ages, I finally try my own hand at it….

I don't profess to be a writer (actually, I'm a math and physics nerd). Please don't be too hard on me!

For all who care: I don't own Phil of the Future.

Where You Belong

Keely Teslow sat at the desk, smiling to herself. He loved her! Well…he liked her a lot, certainly. And whoa…what a fist kiss! In front of the entire school!! A small giggle erupted from her. Funny - that's what they had tried so hard to avoid just the day before! Her blonde curls bobbed about her shoulders as Keely shook her head, grinning like crazy, rocking back and forth in the swivel chair. She tried to lose herself in the feel of his lips on hers, while the memory was still so delightfully fresh and warm…wow….

She couldn't believe all that had happened in the last few days. It seemed unreal, as if any minute she would wake up and find that nothing had changed. She would go to school, just as usual, and she would hang out with Phil, also as usual. Meanwhile, as was lately becoming usual, she would try to disregard her strange attraction towards him, which was gradually growing harder and harder to ignore. Yet, thanks to the school, that particular issue had been more or less resolved two days ago. The cat was out of the bag – she liked Phil, Phil liked her – they were an item. Well, it hadn't exactly been that easy. In fact, it had been rather awkward, and nothing of particular significance had been discussed…well, until the kiss, if that can be called 'discussion.' He liked her, but really, how much? He was her best friend – he knew her deepest secrets, he'd been there for her whenever she needed him. She loved seeing him smile, making him laugh – even if it was at her own expense, as was often the case. He was so…steady. So constant. She knew that she could count on him for anything, whether she needed a shoulder to cry on, or merely someone to laugh with. She knew that at 16 she was entirely too young to fall in love, yet she felt that, given time, she really might. Fall in love, that is. With Phil.

The smile faded from her face. Time. That was the problem. She looked down at the shaker in her hand, wrapping her fingers more tightly against the sleek metal. They didn't have time. Phil was gone, and he wasn't coming back. Not now, not ever. She'd be long dead by 2121, and he'd move on. He'd have to.

Urrgh. It was so frustrating. To have such happiness, and then to have it so quickly taken away. She'd really felt they'd been at a beginning. She'd felt that they were going somewhere…

"Teslow, are you all right?" a voice interrupted her thoughts. Keely glanced absentmindedly at the salt shaker in her hand, and realized that she'd been gripping it so hard that her knuckles were white. "You look like you just lost your best friend!"

Keely didn't even bother to look up. "I did," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. She gazed numbly at the object in her hand. The metal, though warmed by her skin, felt so cold against her hand. Cold and dead. Like all that never was, and now never could be.

Keely bit her lip to keep from crying.

Phil Diffy rubbed his eyes, sluggishly dragging the palms of his hands down the sides of his face. It had been an incredibly long day. He had a splitting headache, and felt vaguely sick to his stomach. As if that wasn't bad enough, when he stood up, the room swam – rather violently – in his vision. Phil stood still a moment, until the room around him slowly began to look normal. It was a simple office, a cubby really, where he completed the duller aspects of his training and his work as an intern. At least they try to make it seem homey, he thought. He glanced once more at the opposite wall, where sunshine poured cheerfully through an open window. It had been his choice; it reminded him of the house his family had lived in briefly, 6 years ago. After storing his visor carefully in the slot under his chair, Phil pressed a button on the key pad near the door. The room went dim as pane of the opposite wall – the window, as well as the typical office conference panel – flickered out.

Phil stepped out into the hallway, listening to the hiss of the door as it slid closed behind him. He waited a moment, listening distractedly for the sound of the system lock as the door sealed itself. Not that there was anything that important in his office, but still, it was a good habit. If someone managed to rig his visor, they would have access to the whole computer system at Timex Corp., and he would be in deep shit. Phil headed down the hallway, so glad to finally be making his way home for the day.

"Diffy! Hold on a minute!" he heard a voice call. Phil turned to face the man that approached him.

"Oh, hello Mr. Denton," he answered. Despite his gruff baritone and stern appearance, Phil knew Alain Denton to be a good man, and a fair boss. He was an extremely brilliant physicist and a shrewd businessman, who had built Timex from the ground up some 40 years prior. The company had suffered tremendously when the restrictions on unnecessary time travel had been passed 7 years ago, yet Denton, in an ingenious proposal to counsel, had convinced the government to fund the company. Once a dealer of machines to millions of vacationers, Timex was now a renowned government research agency. The company was in charge of both the study and the preservation of the timeline, and used its cutting-edge technology to monitor any irregularities or interruptions to the recorded flow of history. With the technology that existed in 2129, this was extremely important for the security and longevity of both the government and the nation.

"Uh, Phil…" Denton began awkwardly. "Look, I've noticed that you've haven't been yourself lately."

"I know, sir. I'm sorry about that. I just can't seem to shake this…whatever it is." Phil pasted a smile on his face, and fought his tired body to stand up a little straighter. At 22, he was still shorter than the average man, standing at only 5'10," but he had a broad, athletic figure, and a kind, open face that gave him a strong and commanding presence…at least, when he was well. He ran a hand tiredly through his chocolate brown hair. "I'll be fine in a day or two, I promise."

"Have you been keeping up on your inoculations, boy?"

"Yes sir."

"You know how quickly new diseases seem to crop up these days. Maybe you should see a doctor." Phil made no reply. "Well anyway, you have my permission to take a few days off for rest; you look like you need them."

"Thank you, sir. Really though, I'm fine." Phil gave Mr. Denton what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Thank you for your concern."

Denton sighed, "Alright, as you wish. Get some rest, Diffy."

Phil nodded politely, and turned to leave.

"Take care of yourself, boy!" He heard Mr. Denton call. "You won't be any use to us if you run yourself dead before you get your certification!" Denton shook his head, and turned back to his office. "Bright kid," he said to himself. "He'll make a terrific agent one day."

While Phil waited in line for the bullet, he heard a low beeping. Sighing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his earpiece. He looked at the small screen. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he put the earbud in. "Hey mom."

"Hi honey!" she said cheerfully. "How was your day at work?"

"Same as usual," he responded tiredly. "Mom, you talk like I just started working as an intern. I've been working at Timex for almost two years! Soon I'll be a certified researcher and technician. Three years more and I'll be a fully qualified traveler."

"The youngest yet!" she said excitedly.

Phil gave an exasperated sigh, ducking carefully into the bullet. "Mom!"

"Oh Phil, you have to let me brag about you a little. It's my job as a mother!"

"Barb, let him be," Lloyd Diffy said as he joined the conversation.

"Hey dad." Phil braced himself for the acceleration. Hey slowly let out his breath as the bullet reached a constant velocity. These rides were nearly intolerable in his current condition, but it was the quickest way to his apartment, and certainly preferable to falling off a skyac during one of his dizzy spells.

"Hi son. How are you feeling?" Lloyd said worriedly.

Phil tensed up again as the bullet slowed. He felt like he was going to hurl.

"Not much better," he admitted.

"Is it any worse?" his father pressed.

"No, pretty much the same," Phil lied, gulping to keep down the bile that had risen to his throat as he climbed out of the bullet.

"Look son, we're really worried about you. Maybe it's time you see a doctor about this strange illness…"

"I already have," Phil said quietly. "No one knows what it is."

Barb gasped, and Phil heard his father murmur something to her, probably to reassure her that he, Phil, would be okay. He hoped his father was right.

"Mom, it's okay. Really. Look, I've been researching in my free time, trying to figure out what it could be. It's possible that I just missed a certain vaccination. That happens, you know, and it's easy to fix." Phil climbed into the chute at his apartment building, keying in the 138th floor and preparing for another sickening ride.

"Alright Phil, but if there's anything your mother and I can do…."

The chute jerked violently upward. Phil winced, and braced himself against the wall as his stomach revolted that day's lunch.

"Phil? Are you okay?"

"Fine mom…." Phil looked at the disgusting pile, wiping the bile from his lips with his sleeve. "Just fine…." With light hiss, the door to the chute slid open and Phil stepped out into the hallway. He pressed the maintenance button beside the chute, and trudged toward his apartment. Finally, a warm shower and sleep... "Look, I just got home. I really just need to go to bed…I'll probably feel better in the morning."

"But you said the same thing last we-"

"Barb," his father cut in, "just let him rest, if that's what he feels he needs."

" I'm sorry honey. It's just that your father and I are so worried about you…"

Phil palmed the small panel outside his apartment. He heard the system lock release with a light beep, and the door slid gently open. "I know mom. I'm worried about me too." He was. Whatever this was, it scared him.

"We're here for you, son. Just give us a call if you need anything."

The door slid closed as he stepped inside. "Thanks dad. Love you guys."

"Love you too, honey."

"Bye." Phil pulled the earbud out and lightly clicked it off. He leaned heavily against the door, sliding down wearily until he was seated on the floor of his kitchen, his face in his hands. He realized that he was shaking uncontrollably. "What is happening to me?" he whispered.

Phil was so happy. Just being with Keely made him happy. Seeing her smile, hearing her laugh – there was nothing better. They had decided to hang out at her place that night, eat pizza and watch old black and white movies. The movies were typically sappy, but he didn't mind. As she always pointed out "they're sweet, and harmless." The movies were clean, the guy always got the girl, and good always defeated evil…maybe they weren't so bad after all. Besides, he got to watch them with Keely. What more could he ask for? She nestled against his shoulder, nudging the empty pizza box off the coffee table to make room for their feet. He laid an arm comfortably over her shoulders, and gently kissed her forehead. He knew that he needed to tell her that he was in love with her. He needed to tell her that she was the only woman for him; wherever she was, that was where he belonged. The words seemed so easy, but they wouldn't come.

Keely shifted against his shoulder, giggling softly. "Watch me, I'll be asleep halfway through the movie – you can bet on it!"

"I'd lay money on that one. You're pretty predictable, Pepper."

She punched his arm playfully in response. "Shhh! You're missing the movie!"

Phil shifted his weight slightly, resting his head gently on hers. Well, not tonight. Maybe tomorrow he'd tell her.

Phil opened his eyes, blinking as the light from the living room lamped seared his eyeballs. He jumped slightly, a little disoriented. He must have fallen asleep on the couch. As was becoming more and more predictable lately, he'd had another dream. Phil sighed heavily, sitting back down. Only a dream. His imagination, fed by his impossible hopes, was playing tricks on him. But these dreams were so real!

Phil felt feverish, and realized that, again, he was shaking slightly. He leaned his head back against the back of the couch, frustrated and exhausted, reaching blindly for the glass of water on a small table next to the couch. Missing the glass, Phil growled and leaned over to pick it up. It really wasn't that physically difficult for him, just annoying. He reached again, staring stupidly at the glass and at his right hand.

Horrified, Phil realized that he had not missed the glass. His hand had gone right through it. No pain – no feeling at all, really. Just through the glass. Right through it. Phil stared, aghast. He brought his hand to him, scrutinizing it with a sickening curiosity. His skin seemed to be moving, swirling strangely like plasma in a screen and producing an eerie glow. Well, his hand might not have been glowing. Maybe it only seemed that way because he could see right through it.

"Oh shit…" he murmured.

Keely sighed and rolled out of bed. She wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, not after that. These dreams were always so vivid and real, and they'd been happening so often lately. She wrapped a large, comfy robe around herself, and padded into the kitchen. Why couldn't she just forget him? Why didn't she just move on? Well, she had….sort of. She'd dated a few men. Some were good men, but she never let them get to close to her. She gave them her friendship, but never her heart. Oh, she had certainly tried to do the latter, but somehow – Keely grimaced – somehow she always managed to sabotage the relationship just as it began to go somewhere. These dreams always seemed to get in the way. She'd be reminded of Phil, and these men – no matter how kind or sweet they were – they just weren't Phil. She snorted, setting a pot of milk on the stove to heat. Served them right for trying to date a girl who was holding a torch for someone in another century!

She'd had plenty of experience with the other sort of guy, too. Suave gentlemen who promised romance, but had certain…ulterior motives. They saw in her a trophy girlfriend – beautiful, sexy and sophisticated – but were too ignorant to love deeply. She didn't know why got involved with such shallow men – maybe it was because she knew that they would never truly ask for her heart, so she would never need to give it. These relationships were just as futile as the good ones, if not more so. As much as Keely hoped that, just once, she could be the sort of person who had shallow, meaningless flings, she was incapable of it. Maybe some could drown their loneliness and uncertainty in empty sex, but Keely knew she could not.

Of course, there was always the type who looked at her and clearly saw nothing but a piece of meat. Those unlucky men, who quickly proved to her that they saw only her lovely body, were soon greeted by the fiery young reporter Keely Teslow – sharp, witty, and not afraid to tell anyone what she thought. She was the brightest young intern at KJZ TV in New York City, training to fill the position of co-anchor when KJZ's leading lady, Bobbie Darron, retired in the coming years. At 22, Keely was beautiful. She was tall – 5'7" – with a trim figure and an immaculate face. Her blonde hair had deepened a shade with age, and it fell in gold waves, draped delicately past her shoulders. She didn't hesitate to let the world know that she was much more than a pretty face, but she had to admit that as a young broadcast hopeful her looks would certainly not hurt her career…

She stirred the milk in agitation, clanking the spoon against the pot with a sharp metallic ring. Why couldn't she stop thinking about Phil? His memory had haunted her long enough; couldn't he just leave her alone? Keely scowled at the pot. That's exactly what he'd done, though her rational side knew it wasn't his fault. Phil belonged in another century! And in 6 years, she'd probably managed to romanticize him to the point that he wouldn't even be able to compete with himself – the way she saw him – if she ever saw him again. That's what the decent men always fell, short of, wasn't it? Her perfect image of Phil. Impossible for any man to compete with, she'd used it as a reason to end relationships whenever they got too deep or the slightest bit complicated. "Keely, hon, you need to stop living in a dream, or your life will pass you by," her mother had said. Keely sighed, squeezing chocolate syrup into the milk and stirring it angrily.

Ugh. Keely shook her head, as if that would help to clear her jumbled thoughts. She needed to wake up. She would never see Phil again; that was reality. She could spend her whole life waiting for a man who would never come, but that would be a pretty lonely existence. Besides, when he got back to 2121, she would have already been dead. He would have already forgotten her, so she would do best to forget him. She had to find a way to forget him.

Phil yawned as he put his visor on the next morning. It was a little difficult to do this with only his left hand – especially with his fingers trembling as they were – but somehow he managed. That was the story of his day so far – he'd managed. He'd managed to make it through the rest of the night without panicking, he'd managed to make it to work alright (probably only because he'd chosen to skip breakfast, rather than risk losing it on the way to work), and somehow he'd managed to make it in to his office without having to palm the door. This was, of course, impossible for him with the current state of his right hand. Luckily for Phil it was Wednesday, and the pane technician was just completing the biweekly tune-up on his office pane as he arrived.

"Everything's running efficiently. No viruses this week!" the old man said as he left. "Have a nice day, Mr. Diffy."

"Thanks Trent!" Phil called absentmindedly. He settled back in his chair as he clicked on the visor. A face appeared before him on the screen of his visor, and he steeled himself for another morning's dull lecture. He always hated these hours of boredom, but they were worth it. Soon he would complete the researcher's program, and the three year traveler's program to follow would consist only of practical training. Still, today it was tough to focus, considering that he seemed to be slowly disappearing.

An hour later, as he switched the visor to access the company database, the conference panel next to his window flickered to life. "Good morning Phil," Denton's image greeted him.

"Good morning Mr. Denton," Phil answered, clumsily removing his visor with his good hand.

"How's the prohibition case coming?"

Phil shook his head slightly, trying to jolt himself awake. He could go back to being preoccupied in a few minutes, after he finished talking to his boss. "Fine, sir. I've managed to compile a detailed historical record surrounding the case, and it seems that Jarard and Hinks failed to cause any significant damage to the timeline."

"Good. The less we need to step in to fix this sort of thing, the better. It's all too easy to make things worse when we try to set them right. They've been arrested, I assume?"

"They've been captured and returned to this time by agent Bexby, and their technology has been confiscated," Phil replied.

"Alright. Good work, Phil. Just write up your report, and file it with Mrs. Gumphrey by tomorrow afternoon if possible."

Phil remembered something. "Don't I need to let agent Henderson check it first, sir?" he asked, confused.

"Phil, you are almost a fully qualified researcher, and you reports lately have been nearly flawless." Denton grinned, "I think it's about time we stopped wasting our time checking your work."

Phil managed a small smile at that. "Thank you, sir."

"Now get to work." Denton smiled. "I expect to see that report tomorrow!"

"Yes, sir," Phil answered. Phil saw Denton reach over to flick off the screen. Then…

"Diffy!!"

Phil winced. "Sir?"

"What's wrong with your hand?"

Shoot! He'd been resting his arm carefully on the arm of the chair, but when he shifted slightly his hand had sunk through the cushioning. He quickly moved it. "Oh…nothing! Nothing – it's fine" – he carefully held his hand above the armrest – "see?"

"Diffy, I want to see you in my office now," Denton said sharply.

Oh boy… "Yessir," Phil muttered, climbing out of his chair. A little late, he realized he'd risen too fast. The room around him swirled, and went dark.

So there it is…constructive criticism welcome, but please don't kill me!

Raella