A/N: Hi, timecest shippers! I've come back! I did not initially intend to continue this story, but due to the positive feedback I have decided to, and honestly I have no idea what I just wrote. This time, we'll learn Cornelius's reaction to the closet incident. I will warn you, there will be a lot of Cornelius/Wilbur angst and/or sexual tension so if that crosses a line stop now. Nothing really happens, but at the same time I can't say nothing at all happens, you know? Also, update on my multi-chapter fic: I haven't forgotten about it. I gave up Meet the Robinsons for Lent and a whole bunch of story ideas have since bloomed, and I had to pick which one I was going to move forward with (Haha, move forward). I've gone with a much lighter story than what was originally planned. The story I had originally planned to write was extremely dark for this fandom, and it would be a complete 180 from the norm. By dark I mean Wilbur-gets-depressed-after-Lewis-leaves-so-he-takes-drugs-and-ends-up-with-a-life-threatening-illness-so-Lewis-is-asked-to-help-find-a-cure-which-makes-Wilbur-worse-because-he-is-constantly-reminded-of-how-he-loves-him. Yeah. That kind of dark. If you guys are interested I'd be glad to write it, I'm just not sure how many people would accept it. Anyway, here you go!

Update (12/11/16): Sorry my "restoration" process was halted for so long. My grandfather passed away 5 days after I went back and edited the first chapter, and after that I just had no motivation to go back and do the rest, but I'll finish now.

The Confrontation

When he had first built the time machine, Cornelius delved into the mechanics of time. It was a relevant branch to study, being his invention concerned time, but little was known about the way time actually worked. It was an area of science unexplored by most, and his colleagues saw it as a dead end. If Cornelius wanted to know about time, he would have to do the research himself. This wasn't really an inconvenience, because research was his life, but he didn't know how to go about actually doing the research. He would have to realize that the only way to learn about time was to experiment with the time machine itself.

After it was built, Cornelius conducted several experiments. These experiments usually involved the effects using the machine had on the other time periods. These experiments were limited, as nothing could really be changed for fear it would alter things too much, but he did what he could. Most times, he got away with it with no consequences, and others he later had to do right by. Messing with time was a dangerous thing to do, and caution had to be taken with each project. Just programming the machine and learning about it took close to a year.

It was a productive year, and Cornelius regretted nothing about it, yet at the end of it he still did not know one thing: How altering time changed memory. Technically, it couldn't just be defined as one thing. It was one thing with several branches. He didn't know how a person would react if his past were changed, how his emotions would be, and very plainly, how he would handle it. He knew he could not experiment with his younger self, but he still had to find a way to test it, and he eventually experimented with animals. These were safe things to test on, as changing their lives would most likely not change important events in time.

When testing on squirrels, Cornelius divided the memories into two categories: relevant and irrelevant. Using a programmed machine, he was able to have the present squirrel's reaction monitored while he changed the past. He found that, when one single peanut a squirrel owned was taken away, the squirrel in his time reacted subtly. In fact, at times the squirrel wouldn't remember it for days. When he did remember it, the memory was faint. However, when a whole winter storage went missing, the squirrel in the present reacted violently. Cornelius concluded that the more traumatic or important the event, the more violent the reaction. Thus Cornelius concluded his study on memory and time. He wouldn't pick it up again for another four years…

Cornelius sat in what was known by his colleagues as the "invention room". It was here that inventors consulted with one another about which inventions would have the best benefits to society. He had been here multiple times, but he just felt out of it at the moment and didn't want to be there. He felt like a part of him was gone. He felt distracted and distant, and this could only be bad for the conference. A distraction was the last thing you wanted when you were with the world's best scientists and inventors.

He sometimes wondered why he bothered to come to these meetings. He ran his own company for crying out loud! Did he really need the approval of those twice his age? Age would usually be a good thing, but in science it wasn't. The older you got, the more you resisted change, and the more you resisted change, the fewer new things you accepted to be true. These men were wise, but it was questionable whether or not what they said today would be any good. The usual crowd of people he worked with was around sixty, but around eighty and he knew he wasn't getting anything done. It was just so upsetting…

The older scientists entered the room. Yes, they were about double his age, and it showed. He wondered how the board could even allow them to work in such a field at their age. It was age discrimination, yes, but new theories and inventions would never be accepted when the people who were supposed to approve the inventions never approved anything. Cornelius wondered how long the meeting would take. He hated the fact that even though he ran his own company, he had to have inventions approved to make sure they were "beneficial" to the human race. Things like this defeated the purpose of Robinson Industries. The industry had been put in place to prevent these exact situations. After his first six or seven inventions, Cornelius had grown tired of having to drag each new machine to the old building. This was especially tiresome if the invention was large, and so he built his own company. However, he still had to have a group vote on the pros and cons of such an invention so his opinion wasn't biased, and the only way he got out of going was if the machine was too large to transport. With his newest invention, a special liquid that had the potential to bring dead animals back to life when placed on bones, this was not the case, and he was obliged to take it to the elder inventors. If only they weren't so focused on tradition…

"…will now show us his newest invention. From my understanding, it's capable of bringing animals back to life when placed on their bones. We will now have this presented, so we could vote on whether it would be worthy for society to have."

Here it goes, he thought, and for the first time in years he was nervous that his invention would be rejected. He stood up and walked to the corner of the room. There he had placed the small bottle that held the new material, and next to it was a laptop on which the presentation had been loaded. He looked out and…

Well, you can start by kissing me.

Flash.

What had just happened? Here he was, about to make one of the biggest propositions of his career, and he was thinking of insanity. If he could convince these people, get them to believe him, get this patented, he could become one of the most famous inventors of all time, if he wasn't already, and this insanity could ruin that.

K-k-k-kiss you? Wilbur, how?

Wilbur.

What?

What had his son just done and w…

"You may begin," one of the members stated, clearly getting impatient. He had every right to be, as much as Cornelius hated to admit it. Here he was, a world famous inventor, and he was having images of…no, he wouldn't admit it. He couldn't admit it, because it was sick and disgusting and wrong in so many ways. He had to block everything out, and, turning to the computer, planned to do just that.

"I apologize, gentlemen. I don't know what possessed me to be so…"

Like this.

"…rude. But it won't happen again and I can assure you this will be worth the wait." He pulled up the first slide of his presentation. He felt that, being how extraordinary this potion, if that were the right word, was, he had to keep his presentation simple. No one really made powerpoints anymore. They had their height when he was young…young. What were these visions? Whatever it was, it would have to wait. "I like to call this the 'pulse potion', if you will. It's not formal, but it's easy to remember and any marketing team can take care of a better name. One single drop of this on the bones of a diseased animal an…"

Pressure.

Pressure of lips.

Warm lips.

Flash.

"…and that animal will regain life. In a split second, all bones will join together again, along with fur, skin, whatever is appropriate for the animal to have, and everything will be as it was.

"Have you tried this on people, also? Would it work on them?"

He had been expecting this question. It was inevitable and unavoidable.

"Well…"

Because, because I like you, Lewis.

"…It only works on the genetic inf-"

A push to the ground.

Violent lips pressing against his.

And.

Wilbur.

Twenty dozen flashes went before his eyes in that one moment. Oh, Wilbur was so dead, but there was just something about this moment. The violent memories pushed him back and he stumbled against the wall and completely forgot where he was.

"Cornelius? Is everything alright? You're not grounded at all." This guy was really getting on his nerves.

"Y-yes, everything's fine. If we could just…move to the next slide, we could move, uh, forward." Yes, his catchphrase came in, even now. He stumbled back to the laptop. If he could just hold out for ten minutes, he could then head home early and have them e-mail him the decision. But what in the world…

Flash.

Hands.

How could he work feeling this uncomfortable? If he delayed this conference one more time he would be sent home without accomplishing anything. He didn't want that to ruin his reputation as an inventor. Then came the dozen flashes. Like lightening they blinded him and didn't leave. And somewhere in there he felt every muscle in his body contract to a warm touch…

"Cornelius! If you don't conc-''

"I know what I'm doing!" He came out of it and snapped. Great. He would never get the invention patented now. He could see all of the other men grow stern and stiff, and they had clearly had enough.

"I don't think we will be needing any more of the presentation", that same scientist stated, voice cold and stiff. Doesn't anyone else have a tongue in this place?

Oh.

Tongue.

No. He wasn't allowing this to happen. He picked up the bottle and his laptop and tried to seem mentally intact. This isn't happening. There's no way my younger self is…is…being…physical…with my son.

Flash.

And he felt pressure like someone was on top of him. Control yourself, he thought, and he felt like he just couldn't take it anymore.

"I apologize, gentlemen, but it seems I don't feel well and I must be getting home. If we could reschedule that would be great and I will call the office…"

"Don't bother", answered the apparent supreme head of the elder inventors. "We don't have time for nonsense. Clearly, this just wasted our time."

Right, Cornelius thought. You have things to do. I have to go scold my son for French kissing my younger self. Who has the bigger problem?

"And I do apologize, I just…I have to go", and he left the room and for some odd reason closed the door behind him. By this time he just felt he had no sense. All things of meaning were gone. Everything that had mattered an hour ago didn't matter anymore.

Flash.

Those hands again. Wilbur's hands. He could almost feel them tracing up and down his body, and he felt himself tracing the same path and it sickened him that he started touching himself to this, but did it make him a pervert if this was actually being done to him and it wasn't his choice? Wasn't it Wilbur's fault? He'd love to blame him but gosh, he was so good with his hands.

.

.

.

.

This was sick. This was wrong. The visions were gone and yet he still found himself thinking about it. He was minutes away from home, and the visions were far less frequent. They were duller and they weren't as bright. They were dark and shady, vague. After leaving the office, things began to quiet down. He drove halfway home in peace, and slept peacefully during the night, and now, almost home, he started to evaluate just how wrong the whole thing was, not just the part that was Wilbur's fault.

He knew the time machine was missing, because Wilbur had told his younger self that it had been stolen, and he knew that his younger self had almost been adopted by his future family. He knew he couldn't just walk into the house advertising that he knew everything that had happened. If he did, then Wilbur would know that he knew about the closet incident, and that wouldn't be good. It would freak him out and he wouldn't get any answers. He would have to get him alone later on…

He sat in the house. Wilbur had just left to drop off Lewis at the orphanage. He hadn't even said anything to him when he got there. He was too guilty to look at his son in a fatherly way, or any way even remotely appropriate, and he lay on his bed and tried to get all those images out of his head.

Flash.

Look, Lewis, about what happened earlier, I'm really s…

No, don't be.

I should be. Just forget it, okay?

Forget it? But I…

And he knew the next part was not spoken.

But, I love you, Wilbur.

I love you, Wilbur.

Love.

That just took a turn for the worse, and as an adult he wanted to tell himself that those feelings went away, but sitting where he was he couldn't lie to himself.

.

.

.

Wilbur walked through the door of the house and found it oddly quiet. Or was that just because Lewis was gone? Yes, it must have been because Lewis was gone. The house was never legitimately quiet because one hundred people were always in it. Yet he looked around and couldn't find anyone…

"They all went out", Cornelius said. Wilbur had gone up the stairs and been wandering through the hallways, and Cornelius had snuck up behind him. The sudden voice in the quiet house had made Wilbur jump, and it almost satisfied Cornelius because he had been startled all day by…things.

"Where?" Wilbur asked. "They didn't tell me and I wasn't gone that long and-"

"Went to make sure time machine number two isn't damaged. I looked it over, but I told them to go get a second opinion so they went to the compa-"

Oh.

Crap.

They went to the company. Those idiots at the conference had probably already called everyone he worked with about what happened yesterday.

"Yeah. The company."

Wilbur was confused by the way the answer was delivered, how Cornelius interrupted himself and then started again. Did he know about the closet? His father wasn't bringing it up and he had to find out.

"So, how was your trip?" Well, that was a pathetic start, but he had to start somewhere. He couldn't just outright say, 'hey I kissed your younger self, what did you think?'

"Fine", Cornelius answered stiffly. Was Wilbur trying to get stuff out of him? Did he want to know if he remembered anything? "It was fine. It went…well."

"I know you're lying", Wilbur answered. "It didn't go well. Something happened and that's why you're home earlier than you said you would be."

"Nothing went wrong."

"Yes it did," and he paused. "Hey, Dad, what did you think about…yesterday?" He watched as Cornelius took a step back. It was such a blunt question. What did he think? He thought hard before answering.

"It wasn't a smart thing to do, Wilbur. Lewis is going to grow up to be your father."

"I know it wasn't smart. That was in my mind the whole time and I know it wasn't a good thing to do. But I…I re-"

"You really loved him," and the words fell from his mouth before he could stop them from coming out. "Lewis felt the same way. I don't commend what you did, but I don't hate you for acting on mutual feelings."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?

"Do you love me?"

"You know I do." Where was Wilbur going with this?

"No, not like that. Do you love me…like Lewis does?"

He would have to be very careful responding. "Wilbur, I was greatly…affected…by what happened between you two in that closet. I can't believe I'm saying this but I can't say I hated it. However, you're my son and I-"

"Why do you insist on having morals? You already saw everything that happened with us. I said I loved Lewis, I loved you, and you don't seem to care!"

"I do care!" And he prepared to make the stupidest decision of his life. "Wilbur, I'm only going to do this once. One time and one time only, and then we both have to stop, but, I'm not going to pretend to be innocent anymore." He went closer to him, so they were tightly together, and he leaned down and gently, oh so gently, placed his lips upon the one fate had decided to torture him with, and through it he found better happiness than any vision, and he almost hated himself for it.

"We can't do that ever again, you understand?" He said, pulling away, and he wanted to die because he could feel he was blushing.

"I understand. Sorry about that, Dad." Wilbur walked away and went into his room. The euphoria of the moment was still there. It hadn't helped anything. Knowing Lewis grew up so powerful to the point he wasn't shy, to the point where he could take charge, it was just really sexy.

Never again, huh? We'll see about that.

A/N: Again, Da Fuq did I just write? xP Okay, well, uh, review? I probably will write another chapter just because of how I ended that. No flames! I honestly don't know how I would make the next part interesting, so if you have suggestions PM me.