The cost of the funeral was an issue brought up briefly and dismissed just as quickly. While not the richest family, the Flynn-Fletchers were comfortable, and they had the expenses to spare for this one large occasion. And what an occasion it would be - family would be flying in, friends from all over the globe would be gathering... it was an overwhelming event to plan and not something they wished to focus on unless it was absolutely necessary. Not when more important things were at hand.

Lawrence was absolutely hysterical over the loss of his little boy. Linda was distant and nervous, constantly occupying herself to avoid facing the reality of the matter. Candace was devastated by her own inability to protect her brother and reveal the truth to her parents before it was too late. Phineas was quiet and withdrawn, always upstairs in his bedroom and murmuring to himself about what could have been and what would be. And Perry - the little domestic platypus who didn't do much - had descended into a deep depression, and seemed to have lost all will to live. His random excursions to God-knows-where had ceased entirely, and on every day leading up to the funeral, he could be found laying in his basket with the look of an animal that was perhaps his true age, rather than a scientifically-altered being meant to live for several decades.

There were times when they came together - to eat, to receive news - and when those times came it was always Phineas who spoke first. He addressed them with tired, wide eyes, his voice inquisitive and gentle and brimming with the false innocence of a broken child.

"Is he being taken care of? Are they keeping him preserved? Are they treating him right?"

They reassured him. Told him things they didn't want to say, about how he was fine and patched up and, heck, probably looked like he was just sleeping. They made sure Phineas was satisfied before they went about their other business.

The questions fit, somehow, with the nightmarish reality they had been plunged into. How could they have known? In their grief, how could they possibly see his descent into madness? The somewhat random questions about the state of Ferb's corpse came across as more of a bizarre coping mechanism... not a foreshadowing of his ultimate decision.

Had things gone differently - had Phineas not convinced them that a burial was absolutely necessary - it could have ended in a pretty wooden box on the mantle. Perhaps chestnut, or maple. Maybe oak, like their tree. A picture could even be fitted into a small frame on the front. It could be his graduation photo... or a group shot of him and his friends. His family.

It could have ended that way.

"Perry the platypus? What are you doing here?"

That was the last voice he wanted to hear now, the last man he wanted to face. His fur bristled at the very thought.

Perry looked up from his place by the water bowl and made eye contact for a fleeting moment. Heinz was oblivious - even after so many years, the name "Flynn-Fletcher" didn't ring any bells. Sure, he had begun to recognize his nemesis sans-fedora, but remember his family? Never. As if there were really any chances for him to do so... outside of Carl and Monogram's numerous slips over the years.

Perry lowered his head again and glared into the water. It was dirty and filled with flecks of food from the buffet table above, and the reflection he saw within was of a creature he didn't recognize, something twisted by grief and rage and time. He hated to look at it but was afraid to look away lest it leap out and engulf him.

Heinz hesitated, confused, then took an eclair from the table and nibbled at it. "You don't have your hat, so... it wasn't because of me. Did you know this kid?"

Perry turned away from the bowl and laid down on the pavement. Let his water-self devour him; what did it matter?

Still oblivious, Heinz continued. "Roger did, a little. He decided he wanted to come out here today and do a big speech, of all things."

Perry's chest tightened at the mention of the Mayor. If Heinz was here because of Roger... he intended to muck things up somehow. That was always how these things went, how they had gone since the beginning. He had come to ruin this event to defame his brother and make him out to be some kind of monster. Outraged and infuriated by the idea, Perry jumped to his feet and bared his teeth, his entire body quivering with the force of his snarl.

Heinz looked at him in shock, his snack dangling from his fingers.

"Did... did I say something wrong?" He seemed about to bolt, all too used to his nemesis's violent moods and not at all prepared for battle, but then realization slowly dawned upon his face - as well as indignation. He planted both feet firmly on the ground and placed a clenched fist on his hip. "I'm not going to crash a funeral! Honestly, Perry the platypus, I'm bad, but I'm not that bad!"

Perry continued to shake and growl like a mad dog as the fury he had been holding back burned in his gut like a grease fire. This was all because of Heinz. Because of that... that horrible invention he had created, the one that had fired...

And yet... it would have hit something else if they hadn't fought, something more suited to Heinz's dislikes. If Perry had just treated it like any other -inator and not jumped the gun...

Then the rage was gone, quick as it came. Perry didn't lay down so much as he melted back onto the ground.

Heinz finished the eclair with slow bites, his eyes on his nemesis the entire time. When there was nothing left in his hand, he knelt down so they were closer to one another, he and Perry. The effort to move in such a way was taxing on him, and his knees creaked in protest as he placed his hands upon them.

"You... did know this kid, didn't you?"

Perry's eyes turned upwards, leaving the rest of his head behind, and in that moment he was more pitiful than he'd ever been in his life.

With a sigh, Heinz sat down next to his friend (much as he denied it, that really was the only word for Perry in his life), unaware of or intentionally ignoring the other people nearby who would want to reach the buffet table. He was focused more on his own thoughts - his memory in particular. Where did he know the name Ferb Fletcher, and how was Perry related? The name had certainly sparked something when he heard it... he assumed it was because of the connection to Roger, nothing else.

The time passed slowly until a figure approached them, a stark silhouette against the clouds of grieving family members dressed head to toe in mourning black.

"There you are, Perry. Is this your friend?"

Heinz looked up into the tired face of a boy much too young for such pain. He knew that this boy was part of Perry's family; the way he said Perry's name alone gave it away. It occurred to him, as it had in the past many times over, that this was an opportunity he could use to absolutely destroy his nemesis - a few choice words would unravel everything.

But again, nemesis was really only a job description - friend was a more apt word by that point. And friends didn't ruin each other's lives.

"Perry, huh? I guess it's as good a name as any for a platypus."

The boy smiled in a strained sort of way.

"I'm Heinz Doofenshmirtz," said Heinz as he struggled to his feet and dusted off his slacks. "The Mayor's brother."

"Phineas," said the boy as he extended his hand for a shake. "The dead kid's brother."

"...Oh." Heinz took the boy's hand gently, as though it might break. "I, uh... I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's not like you killed him."

When Perry cringed in response to the grim comment, Phineas seemed to take it as a plea for affection and promptly scooped his pet into his arms. It was odd for Heinz to see Perry treated in such a way... just being picked up like a sad sack of potatoes. He didn't even resist. How many times had Heinz tried to lift his friend up to a ledge or seat only to have his hand swatted away?

Phineas turned to leave without so much as a Goodbye, nice to meet you. Heinz assumed that meant he could follow, and he did so with a sense of eagerness; he had never expected to meet Perry's family. Even in such grim circumstances it was exciting. He could learn so many things!

"So... this is probably gonna sound pretty tasteless," said Heinz as they walked, his hands groping for pockets that didn't exist in an attempt to appear casual, "but... how did he die? I just, you know, I followed Roger..."

Phineas stumbled over his own feet and then stopped short, hugging Perry to his chest as though someone were trying to take him away. In the silence, Heinz could hear the English relatives talking amongst themselves, could hear them crying as they placed keepsakes beside the gleaming black casket at the center of it all. The last funeral he'd been too wasn't nearly as sad. Then again, his father wasn't a very beloved man.

Heinz's eyes fell to Perry, who was looking at his owner with such fear. Perry the platypus... in fear. In was surreal.

"We were... making a sculpture," Phineas said after a while. As he straightened himself, his lips spread into a queer smile that spoke deeply of what was within his head. "Made of scrap metal. It was coming along fine... we almost had in finished..." He pet Perry's head a little too hard and looked away, out into the massive crowd surrounding the graveyard. "Then this... ray, I guess... flew over us... hit it while he was inspecting the inside..."

Heinz's eyes widened a little, his eyebrows jumping up in alarm. His heart, a decayed thing that surged only for Vanessa and perhaps a few others he'd prefer to not name, thudded into his gut.

"...It fell apart," Phineas said. "Just like that. Everything came undone, and it fell on top of him, and..."

Perry looked at Heinz. It was a cold look, but it was sad, too, and Heinz knew why. Oh, in that moment, he knew. And for all the evil he did and would continue to do... this was too much. He wanted power, and respect, and fear... but death? The destruction of innocence in those dark blue eyes? The suffering inflicted upon one of his only friends? The machine was meant to harmlessly bulldoze a few statues, not this, never this...

"...That... that's horrible."

"We still don't know how it happened," whispered Phineas, his lips quivering as he spoke. The walls were crumbling down.

Without another word, Heinz reached out and pulled the boy into an embrace. Phineas collapsed into him, sobbing, mumbling nonsense into the lapels of Heinz's best (and only) suit. In a moment he had ceased being Phineas and was now Vanessa, weeping in her prettiest dress, so afraid and upset that she hadn't resisted at all when her father brought her close. Heinz could feel tears in his own eyes. The pain he saw here... the pain he had inflicted, even if it was unintentional... it was all too much to bear.

Perry chattered in agitation, wriggling in an attempt to free himself from the space between them.

"Thank you," said Phineas in a weak mumble as he pulled away. "I'm sorry, I thought I... had that under control." He wiped his eyes with the back of one hand, the other arm still wrapped around Perry, who was confused and staring at Heinz in an obvious plea for answers.

Heinz shook his head. "No, don't apologize. You... you just went through something traumatizing. It's expected, if anything."

"Oh, of course. Of course..." The queer smile had returned with a vengeance. "But everything will be okay soon."

Guests were beginning to take their seats as Mayor Doofenshmirtz approached the casket, a sheaf of papers in his hand. He spoke in hushed tones to the grieving parents who held each other beside the podium, and as the conversation went on, they seemed to grow more and more upset. They daughter joined them in short time and seemed to take over for them, her stability less questionable but her grief all the same.

"You aren't going to kill yourself, are you?" Heinz asked in a shocked whisper.

Perry looked up as Phineas shook his head.

"No, no. That wouldn't solve anything."

Roger stepped away and took his place behind the podium with the papers set out where they could easily be read. After a brief once-over of his speech, he raised his eyes to the crowd and cleared his throat. It was a sound that demanded attention, and and as always, it achieved its goal. The service was beginning.

Heinz placed a hand on Phineas's shoulder and walked with him until they came upon his seat, which was hidden safely in the back so no one would see the mayor's shameful excuse for a sibling. Confused, Phineas paused there, and all eyes were on him as they waited for him to join his remaining family. He was oblivious - as always - and only had eyes for Heinz as he slouched into his chair.

"Go sit down, kid," Heinz said. "They're waiting for you."

Phineas opened his mouth, then closed it and frowned back at the people watching him. Their eyes still didn't leave him.

If Ferb was there, he would understand...

"You stay here with Mister Doofenshmirtz," Phineas said to Perry, who didn't struggle in the slightest as he was placed on his nemesis's lap. He merely gave his boy a gentle look before laying down on the familiar bony legs. It wasn't the best situation for him - he was still very much upset - but he understood Phineas's intentions and would play along.

Phineas reached out with a hand that wasn't quite steady, and Heinz took it in his own shaking grip. This was not a greeting; it was an embrace, a silent promise, a gentle reassurance. From one broken scientist to another.

Phineas's hand slipped from Heinz's fingers, and then he turned away and walked to his place in the front row.

"He's a good kid," Heinz said with a smile, and Perry chattered back at him in reply.

With everyone seated, Roger glanced down at his script one last time before looking up to face the crowd. When he spoke, his voice carried out across the graveyard, seemed to reverberate off of the stones.

"My friends... we are gathered here today to lay to rest one of the most brilliant minds Danville has ever known. Perhaps one of the most brilliant minds the world has ever known."

He paused, gauging the reactions, and then went on solemnly.

"Ferb Fletcher was a young child of nine when I first met him ten years ago. It wasn't a life-changing meeting; I met he and his brother by coincidence, and learned, in our brief time together, that they were young inventors and dreamers. In this past decade I have seen this and more proved time and time again.

"Ferb and his brother Phineas have been key forces in making this town as great as it is. I cannot even count the times they have shown up at my office, full of brilliant ideas and quick fixes to problems even I couldn't solve."

Roger observed the crowd before him, full of Fletchers and Flynns and the people Phineas and Ferb had met and helped over the years. Then he continued on with confidence.

"Lawrence and Ferb Fletcher were both born in England, and they migrated here when Ferb was just a little boy. Being an immigrant myself, I understand the life one is expected to lead and the trials they must face. And I say to you, my grieving friends, that young Ferb was an American to end all Americans. He was a gift of spirit and intelligence, a man I would have gladly given my mayorship to, if the opportunity arose.

"As we gather here today to remember his life, I want it to be known that the world is a darker, colder place without his presence. Let us grieve for the life that has been lost... and the lives forever changed by his departure. May he rest in peace, eternally, his brilliance a shining star in Heaven."

"Sounds like he was pretty amazing," said Heinz in awe, but this time he received no reply; Perry had covered his face with his paws as if to hold back the flood of tears, but they only leaked through and fell onto Heinz's pants.

Roger left the podium and was replaced by a tearful Lawrence, who described his son to the audience as though they had not all met him before. Linda was after him, sharing anecdotes and love, wrapped in the assurance that he was just as much her son as Phineas. Candace spoke next, shaking and sorrowful, lips pulled into a tired smile as she recalled the life lost - the life she had taken responsibility for as a Big Sister.

Phineas did not go after her. Next was Isabella, and then Buford and Baljeet, and various foreign family members. Vanessa even came to share a few words about the eccentric boy she had grown rather fond of. Heinz had been entirely unaware of this connection, and was extremely confused, but the grieving platypus in his lap offered no explanation.

Many people chose to speak of Ferb. Everyone had a different story to tell, a new insight to share - but none could beat the final speech. It was Phineas who stepped up last, naturally, and he had prepared this painful occasion with a projector and a laptop full of home movies. There was no paper in his hands. No script. As it was for all of his life, he spoke freely, unhindered.

The projector whirred to life and cast a faded image upon the screen placed before it. It was a strange thing to those assembled; for all the high-tech gadgets the boys just up and built, something so ancient seemed pointless. For Phineas, it did as it was supposed to.

The first film was of the second day Ferb had spent in their house. His family and friends were treated to a wide-eyed toddler with a soft voice as Phineas began to speak.

"When I was four years old, my mom brought home a stranger and his son to meet my sister and I. She told us that the stranger was a new friend she had meant who was beginning to mean very much to her. She told us that he and his son were from another country and had moved back to the states because they needed a new home.

"The minute I met Ferb, I knew he was going to be my best friend in the whole world."

The clumsy toddler sat down on his rump, a young Phineas following suit, and the clip ended. The next was their first day of grade school. Both boys were dressed their best, holding each other's hands as they waved to the camera.

"He didn't share this premonition, but within the next few weeks we did get pretty close. By the time our parents got married, we were inseparable, and no matter what happened, that never changed. Ferb and I became close friends - perhaps the best friends the world has ever seen."

He gazed out at them, his eyes cold, body language withdrawn and hard to interpret. On the screen, the two young boys boarded their bus, and then that clip ended as well. The next was years later - during the first great summer. Two nine-year-olds held out a gleaming contraption for the camera to see as Candace fumed in the background.

"Ten years ago, during summer vacation, Ferb and I came to the realization that we were letting life slip us by. This was when we adopted the philosophy of carpe diem - Latin for seize the day."

Phineas smiled here, a wry upturn at the corner of his mouth.

"Or you could say that seize the day is English for carpe diem."

The boys on the screen were now showing their mother an amazing feat Perry had learned - if asked enough times, he would sit on command. Candace was less than amused as she stood behind them, her hands on her hips.

"Many times throughout our life, people have asked Ferb about why he never speaks. He's never gotten in a good answer. If there is one, he's never told me. While the world has only seen a stoic, quiet kid, I always saw a bright and snarky boy who had a million things to say if given the chance. Maybe he just doesn't like talking to most people, who knows? But in private, in the safety of our bedroom, he opens up like a blooming flower. Ferb has told me things that have stuck with me for years. He is a philosopher, a trickster, a mastermind, and a complete dork."

Another clip began to play. Teenagers now, perhaps about fourteen, Phineas and Ferb danced together in the living room as their family howled with laughter.

"In short, Ferb is not someone to be forgotten. He is not someone who goes away."

Older now, fifteen, maybe sixteen. Ferb lounged on a pool floatie with a soda in hand. Somewhere out of view, there was a yell, and he looked up just in time to see Phineas cannonball into the public pool. Linda - the camerawoman, as always - laughed up a storm as Ferb fell into the water, soda and all. Phineas was giggling like a madman when his brother resurfaced with murder in his eyes.

"I refuse to let this be the end. There is no end to Ferb. To us. Not after all these years and all these memories. Not after what we've been through."

Ferb's eighteenth birthday. Expensive gifts were littered before him, all appreciated and admired in turn. Phineas then approached with a small box. The family's faces suggested their expectations - something priceless, something amazing. Upon opening the box Ferb only found a wrench with his name carved onto the handle. And yet... the look on his face said this was the best gift of all. The brothers embraced to a chorus of cooing.

"This isn't the end."

The last clip faded to black, and Phineas left his place at the podium and gathered up the laptop. The projector wasn't his, and it was abandoned as he returned to his seat.

There were no words on his performance. In fact, there were hardly any words at all; aside from the odd whisper, the crowd was silent, and the decision to begin the burial was unspoken.

Heinz joined Phineas at his seat when Lawrence and Roger and a few other men had shouldered the casket and begun to walk away with it. He handed Perry back when Phineas was on his feet, and together they watched the procession. It was odd how they came together now, of all times... the beginning of the end.

The dreary afternoon light glinted off of the polished casket before it was again shielded by the clouds. Heinz found himself impressed by its craftsmanship. He hadn't looked at many coffins in his life, but this one... this was something. He wondered how much it had cost and if that was something he could ask in a tasteful manner. He looked to Phineas, intending on making at attempt, but one look at his companion's face stopped the words in his throat.

The sorrow from earlier was gone. In its place was something... sinister, something calculating and cold.

The pastor hired for the event began to speak as the casket was lowered into the earth. He spoke of many things; God's love, and Heaven, and salvation... things Heinz thought were very much absent from the scene.

"You're planning something, aren't you?"

Phineas's absence from the grave was not unnoticed; his sister was watching him from her place with her parents, almost glaring as the earth was shoveled over what had once been her other brother. The wicked smile on his face did nothing to ease her annoyance with him.

"Mister Doofenshmirtz, I'm always planning something."

The night was warm and heavy with an oncoming rain. Phineas was dressed for the occasion, just as he had been dressed for the funeral - only this time, instead of a suit, it was a rain slicker and waterproof combat boots. He had work to do, and he wasn't going to allow rain or mud to get in his way.

There were no high-tech gadgets accompanying him on this dreary September evening. There was only a shovel and a large red wagon he'd dug out of the garage.

A car would be best, of course, but that meant turning it on and alerting the entire family that he was leaving and then returning. Might they ask where he'd been? What he'd done? The risk was too great. Under the cloak of darkness he felt much safer, especially with the freshly-oiled wagon that rolled silently behind him.

The walk wasn't far, and the graveyard was easy to get into. Danville was a safe little town, a place with minimal security because it was all they found necessary. The gates weren't even locked - just latched shut.

The shovel clanged against tombstones as Phineas passed them, no longer worried about being heard because he knew no one watched the graveyard at night. He had done his research before arriving and was able to navigate his way through as though he owned the place.

The dirt was still uneven and soft over Ferb's grave. Phineas tested it with a prod of his foot, then dropped the handle of the wagon and plunged the shovel deep into the ground.

Unearthing the coffin was not easy work. The hole had been filled by machines, and Phineas, weak in his grief and never very tough to begin with, was largely inferior. This did not deter him. His family was occupied with their own sadness, and in the shadows of the night he saw no passing cars or wandering teenagers. He had all the time in the world... or at least until the sun came up. And this was, of course, a matter of time; if he waited too long, this plans would be for naught.

"I told them I could fix you," he said to himself as he worked. "I was hysterical, sure, but I wasn't lying. What kind of brother would I be to let this be the end of everything?"

The night offered no response. After years of being Ferb's constant companion, he hadn't expected one anyway.

Phineas could hear owls hooting in the distance, and it gave him confidence; being silent and intelligent, they had always reminded him of his brother. They were so mysterious and untouchable... but he had been able to touch one. And soon, he would touch his amazing bird of prey again.

His arms ached more and more with each passing hour. Blisters formed on his fingers, became ugly bubbles that popped and smeared blood all over the shovel's wooden handle. Phineas paid no mind to any of this. Pain was only a distraction.

And in the end, despite the aches and blood and exhaustion, he still managed to pry open the coffin all by himself.

The sight within almost took his breath away.

"Oh, Ferb... Look at you... we have a lot of work to do, don't we?"

He touched Ferb's face with one bloody, filthy hand, his fingers tracing the stitches that kept the left eye closed. That wouldn't do. He needed two functional eyes. Not to mention two functional arms and legs...

"It's gonna be a long few weeks, huh pal?" Phineas asked with a little laugh. The pallid corpse offered no reply. Again, he hadn't really expected one.

While he wasn't very wide or toned, Ferb was tall, and he had a lot of mass to him. Phineas struggled a bit with the weight but managed to get both of them out of the hole in due time. With the utmost care he placed Ferb in the wagon, and then he returned to the grave and began to shovel the dirt back in.

"This will be easier," he said with an excited grin. "It's much less taxing putting the dirt back in. Especially knowing I have you back! I swear, Ferb, I could lift cars right now. I can't believe this is happening. You've been gone too long..."

A crow shrieked somewhere in the trees.

"Of course, you're not quite back yet," Phineas went on in a conversational tone. "I have a lot of things to fix. But don't you worry, Ferb-meister, you'll be back on your feet in no time!"

He turned from his task to look at Ferb's body, a small frown tugging at his lips. Then he returned to the grave. "Of course, you'll need a new foot first..."

The bloated clouds above could stand it no longer. As Phineas spoke to his brother, the first few flecks of water splattered down, and in no time at all it had become a torrential downpour that turned the new grave into mud. Never one to dwell on the negatives, Phineas patted down what he'd managed to get back in before turning to the wagon and sighing in mild annoyance.

"Time to go, dude," he said. "You smell bad enough as it is. Don't want you out here." He clucked his tongue, then pulled the hood of his rain slicker over his head and grabbed the handle of the wagon. The wheels stuck in the mud a few times on the way out, but Phineas always managed to get it free.

The shovel clanged against the tombstones the same as before. It was almost an eerie melody, the song of going home.

Phineas whistled as he walked.