I sincerely apologize for how long it's taken me to actually write this chapter. I never intended to abandon Revived, and if I can help it, I won't be taking such a long hiatus again. I hope you all enjoy the new chapter, and make sure to reread the old ones because I've updated several of them!

For a few days, everything was quiet.

News that Buford and Baljeet would be leaving the hospital reached the boys through the grapevine, traveling from somewhere in their mother's friend group to Candace, who told them in passing one night as they ventured from their room for food. Her motivations in telling them were unclear; she knew what had happened. What had really happened. Though maybe she also knew that it was an accident? Perhaps she thought they would want to apologize...

But Phineas didn't care, and Ferb was too afraid.

Ferb found solace in his brother's arms in the passing of each dreary day. His shame and disgust with himself remained ever present in the back of his mind and whatever remained of his gut, but it was all too easy to fall into Phineas's welcoming embrace and lose himself in the freckles dusting his brother's face. Being able to give into his fantasies after so long was... liberating. In a way, it felt like some kind of reward for being able to withstand the insanity that his life had become. A horrible reward that he didn't deserve, but a reward nonetheless, and one he was all too eager to partake in now that the walls were finally breaking down.

On the day that their friends - if they could still be considered as such - were supposed to be released, there was a light drizzle that pattered on their bedroom window and blocked out most of the sun. Ferb found himself drawn to it, and spent a long time with his elbows on the windowsill, gazing out into the gloom and thinking about his life and what it had become. Perry was at his feet for a while, but eventually moved to Ferb's bed and settled there. He was always close, always keeping an eye on his boys - even when they kicked him out of the room, he was always right outside, waiting for their return.

"Fuck," Phineas swore from the desk at the other end of the room.

"Language," Ferb said as he turned around to look at his brother. Phineas was hunched over blueprint paper and scribbling furiously. All his failed attempts, from before and now, were littered about his workspace or part of the leaning tower of trash looming over the top of the wastebasket. "Who taught you to speak like that?"

"Very funny," Phineas said without looking up. He scribbled something else, sighed, then scribbled over it in a fury. "This is awful. I'm terrible at designing advanced robotics! Can't you do this?"

Ferb meandered over to his brother and peered over his shoulder. Amidst the scribbles and scratches was the rough outline of a new mechanical arm, something more advanced than what Ferb already had. Yet as he tapped the fingers of his right hand on the back of Phineas's wooden chair and listened to the clunking sound it made, he thought that he really didn't need anything more than what he had, regardless of what Phineas had said about "training wheels" for his arm.

"You're not terrible," Ferb said. "Just impatient. And in any case..." He held his arm out next to Phineas's head and flexed his fingers. "I don't think I need a new one. This one works fine."

Phineas turned to look at the arm, then grabbed it with both hands and brought it down so he could inspect it further. "But it's lacking," he said as he drew his fingers across its panels and rivets. Ferb was almost frightened by how much of it he could actually feel; he was still getting used to all the sensations from his mechanical parts. "It was made to serve a single function... to be a replacement for a flesh-and-bone arm. I still tried to make improvements, but they obviously weren't made right..."

"You mean the freakish strength?"

"Yeah." Phineas slipped his fingers between Ferb's and held his hand tight, and Ferb refrained from returning the gesture for that very reason. "I thought that was how it should be, but you should also have more control over it. I obviously did something wrong. I mean, it's impressive, but for you to not even be doing it on purpose..."

Ferb frowned and pulled his arm back. Phineas didn't seem eager to let it go, but it finally made him look up at Ferb's face. As usual, he looked exhausted - even with more regular sleep, the bags under his eyes weren't going away any time soon. He had spent too long pushing himself too hard.

"Phineas, it's not my arm," Ferb said, his optic zooming in on the palm of his robotic hand as he looked at it. "Or at least it isn't the arm I've had my entire life. It's understandable for me to be a bit unaware of my own strength if it's nothing like I had before. I know I've had my problems with it, but I'm coming to terms with the changes. You're being impatient."

"You keep saying that," Phineas sighed. "I spent a month bringing you back. I had to be patient. How am I being impatient now?"

Ferb lowered his arm and reached up to brush his brother's hair away from his face with his real hand. There was a moment where he hesitated, still unsure of his own boundaries and what he should really be allowing himself to do, and then he leaned down and kissed Phineas's forehead. Phineas made a small sound of protest and slung both hands over Ferb's bicep as if to pull his arm away, but traced his fingers over the scars there instead.

"You always want immediate results," Ferb whispered against his brother's skin. "You never want to wait. You rush things, you complete them as fast as possible - you do realize how quick a month is, don't you? To bring someone..." His voice faltered, and he stopped speaking and pulled himself away.

Phineas's bangs flopped back down over his eyes, and with an annoyed sigh he brushed them aside, only to have them spring back into the same position. "A month is ages! I've done more complex things in a day! It's just that I had you for those things. You're just better at..." He sighed again, threw his hands in the air, then turned back to the desk. "Being patient, I guess."

Ferb grabbed the back of the chair and tipped it backwards, causing Phineas to yelp in surprise. "I am," he said as Phineas stared up at him, wide-eyed. "After all, how else would I deal with you?"

Phineas continued to stare for a long moment, then burst out laughing as he relaxed once more into his seat. "You're an ass!" he said, grinning from ear-to-ear. "You know that? You're just made entirely of sarcasm and dry wit!"

"And anxiety," Ferb corrected, and Phineas laughed again.

Ferb continued holding the chair as his brother laughed. When the gale began to die down, Phineas turned his head and saw that Ferb was holding the chair up with his left arm, muscles straining as he did. Then he looked up at his brother, mouth open to ask a question, but Ferb looked away.

There was a tense moment of silence, and then Ferb tipped the chair back into its rightful position.

"... I just... I'm afraid I'll hurt you," he said in response to the question that wasn't asked, his left hand going over the metal of his right arm.

Phineas's lips smoothed out into a straight line and his brows furrowed. In a firm voice, resolute and sure, he said, "That's what I want to fix. Don't you see?" He turned back to the desk and picked the blueprint up from under the mess surrounding it. "Failsafes, safety mechanisms, a better hookup to your neural components - that's what I'm trying to do, Ferb. And if I'm too impatient to figure it out, can't you try?"

Ferb considered the past few weeks in his mind.

They hadn't built a thing since he'd come back. They'd gone on no adventures, asked no questions that needed complex answers. The most they'd done was begin to work through Ferb's myriad of confusing emotions, and that in itself felt... Subdued. Difficult, yet so much simpler than the things they usually engaged in. Harder, but less... Phineas and Ferb. Less what they were known for, more "normal people doing normal things".

Aside from the incest part of it, anyway.

Ferb found himself reluctant to resume their normal agenda because nothing felt normal. Everything was changing, and to go back - to be who he was before the accident - felt impossible. Yet Phineas still didn't grasp that, and probably never would; he had done everything the way he had done it specifically so they could go back to normal.

And even as wary as Ferb felt about it all, he hated to deny his brother what he wanted.

"...I guess I can take a stab at it," he said as he rubbed the back of his neck with nervous fingers. "But," he said as Phineas began to smile, "I don't want to start right this instant. I need to... I don't know. I need to clear my head."

"You're the best!" Phineas exclaimed in joy as he stood up and pulled Ferb into an embrace. "You'll see, it'll work great! We'll make amazing things together again!"

Ferb exhaled hard through his nose and patted his brother on the back, then gave in and returned the hug with both arms, his right over his left.

"Why don't we go for a walk?" Phineas proposed as he rested his head against Ferb's chest. "Perfect thing to clear your head, right? And I bet Perry could use the outdoor time, too."

Perry lifted his head off of Ferb's bed and chattered.

"...Maybe," Ferb said, his voice a little tight. "I..." He hesitated, his gaze shifting off to the side. "...I don't know how eager I am to have people see me, Phineas. I don't think... I'm pretty sure no one outside of our family and friends knows about me."

"Aw, c'mon, it's almost nighttime!" Phineas pulled back and turned his brother around to face the window, and Ferb saw that it was, indeed, just about dusk. The rain had stopped, too, though it was sure to start again in no time with the way the weather had been.

"I guess," Ferb relented, and Phineas squeezed him from behind.

"We can hold hands," Phineas said as he linked his own hands together over Ferb's midsection. "And talk about things."

"Normal things?"

"Define 'normal', and sure."

Ferb chuckled, but inside, he felt uneasy. People might have caught glimpses of him the day he ran away, but going out for a casual walk... What about the people coming home? Or the teenagers out late at night? Any number of people could see him, would notice that horrible blue glow in the darkness and wonder what it was... All the same, he was tired of being cooped up in the house, even if it was his own decision. Maybe the fresh air would be a good thing.

Or a disaster.

It was so hard to tell the two apart these days.

As the sun began to set, the Garcia-Shapiro house was bustling with activity.

Baljeet and Buford, both weary and heavily bandaged, sat side-by-side on the couch with the rest of their friends gathered around them. Isabella and the Fireside Girls she had invited made up the majority of the group, but Irving was there as well, sitting near Isabella but not too close because the other girls made angry faces at him when he tried.

"I was watchin' him the whole time," Buford was saying as the others listened with rapt attention. "He looked kinda nervous at first, but then he started lookin'... I dunno. Like he was about to fall over. And then, all of a sudden, he got this completely blank look on his face and shoved Phineas away from Isabella."

"I barely remember that," Isabella said with a shaky sigh. "I just... I was talking to Phineas, and then you were pushing me out of the way." She had already heard some of his account while visiting the both of them in the hospital, but Buford was usually too tired or too worked up to give her everything.

"I had to," Buford said. "I mean, he was about to hit you. I barely saw it in time, y'know? And then this idiot..."

"I am not an idiot!" Baljeet countered. His outrage was short-lived, and he laid back against the couch cushions like he was completely exhausted. "I am your friend. And I was trying to protect you."

"You're both so heroic," said Ginger, a hand placed over her heart. "I can't believe you put yourselves in the way of danger like that."

"This all sounds like some kind of twisted horror story," said Adyson as she shook her head in disbelief. "I don't know how no one was freaking out before the zombie went crazy."

Irving was the one to pipe up next. "Actually," he said, "he's not a zombie. More of a cyborg, really. You see, he's completely alive, and made partially of robotic enhancements..."

A few hard stares in his direction made him go quiet.

Isabella looked around the room, then stood up from her place by the couch. "Buford, Baljeet, thank you so much for coming here today," she said as she put a hand on Buford's shoulder. "You really should be at home, resting..."

"Not a chance," Buford said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Everyone deserves to know what happened. Ferb ain't safe - hell, I don't even know if he's Ferb anymore."

There were mutters amongst the girls as they considered this possibility. Irving looked upset by the statement, but he stayed quiet, well aware that his differing input wasn't entirely welcome. It certainly hadn't been taken well when he was alone with Isabella, and he doubted anyone else would appreciate his continued support of Phineas and Ferb.

"Well, whatever he is, we're going to be keeping an eye on him." Isabella gave Irving a quick glance, then stood to the side of the couch and motioned towards the window. "Just the other day, Irving and I tailed him and Phineas in some bizarre outing they went on. There was no harm, but..."

"Ferb was in a tree," Irving cut in. "Like, he was just sitting there! Like he was waiting for Phineas or something! And then they walked back home together. Like it was nothing." He paused, a finger on his chin, then offered, "Maybe it was hide-and-seek?"

"I doubt it," Isabella said with a critical look. "At least, I don't think it was meant to be. Ferb was a far way from home." She ran a hand through her hair and looked across the many faces of her friends. "They may have been testing something, or... I don't know. It was weird."

"I checked up on that tree just the other day," Irving added. "It had these huge gouges in it."

"Just like me," Baljeet said with a dry laugh.

Buford put a hand on Baljeet's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze as the girls muttered together again, making hushed comments about what sort of monstrosity Ferb could have become to do the things he had apparently done. None of them had seen him yet, after all. The loudest voice among them was Gretchen, who appeared irate about the situation.

"As Phineas and Ferb's friends," Isabella continued, "it's our job to make sure they don't do any further harm. We -"

"Did you even see the news report?" Gretchen interrupted, surprising Isabella with how angry she sounded. "He completely denied everything you say actually happened." She adjusted her glasses, then gestured towards Baljeet and Buford. "Phineas watched that happen, then blamed the attack on a bear and said his platypus saved them. How can you possibly still call him a friend when he's not even taking responsibility for what he's done?" Isabella tried to cut in, but Gretchen continued. "I know you love him, Iz, but that's not good enough! He created a monster out of someone we all used to care about, and I'm not about to pretend that... that thing is my friend or anything close to the actual Ferb Fletcher."

There was a heavy silence as her sharp words rang in the air.

Then, as if specifically to break the silence, Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro suddenly appeared in the entryway to the kitchen and waved at the assembled group. "Hey everybody! I hope you're all having fun! Does anyone want snacks?"

"We're fine, Mom," Isabella replied as she did her best to keep her composure.

"Okay, if you're sure. Are you two doing alright?" She looked pointedly at Buford and Baljeet, the latter of whom was looking a bit pale.

"We are fine," Baljeet answered with a forced smile. "Thank you, ma'am."

Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro looked at them skeptically, then smiled back and left the room. Another silence followed as everyone listened to her receding footsteps. Isabella knew her mother wasn't likely to think anything of what she heard; like most of the parents in Danville, she never seemed to pay much attention when Phineas and Ferb were being discussed, especially when it came to what shenanigans they were up to. Nothing had changed now, even with one of them supposedly dead and the entire town still in mourning.

"...Sorry." Gretchen adjusted her glasses again and looked down at the floor. "I just - Phineas is doing the wrong thing. And Ferb..." She shook her head. "I always liked him. He was a good guy. I... I just don't think whatever attacked Buford and Baljeet was him. Ferb never would have done something like that." She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and looked up at Isabella. "And Phineas, who he was before this happened - he never would have just let his friends be hurt like that."

Phineas, and who he was before... Isabella's heart hurt to think about it, and one look at Buford and Baljeet told her that they felt the same way.

"...He seemed okay," Isabella said after a long pause, her voice soft and sorrowful. She had everyone's attention in an instant. "He was so happy to show us what he'd done. And I was so proud of him, I... I really thought..." She put a hand over her mouth, then clasped both hands in front of her thighs. "He seemed like Phineas. And then, Ferb... attacked."

Buford turned slightly in his seat to look at her more carefully. She'd never mentioned what she saw Phineas doing; she had only listened to them - to Buford, mostly - tell her what had happened from their perspective.

"He just watched," she continued. "He just... stared at them, at Ferb, and it was like he was an entirely different person. Then Candace came out, and... he was gone."

"You never told us this," Baljeet said in a low voice.

"I didn't want to." Isabella shook her head and leaned against the side of the couch, her hair falling around her face as she looked down at her feet. "I didn't want to think about it, either. I don't want... I don't want there to be no hope for him. I want Phineas to be okay."

There was another silence, this one laden with sad feelings and an inkling of hopelessness.

"Aw, Iz..." Irving stood up from where he was sitting and approached her. "We all want him to be okay," he said as he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. "But if he's not... We gotta take care of it. Right?" He gave her a smile, hoping to be reassuring.

"Right," Isabella said with a small nod. "Yes. That's... That's why I asked everyone to come here." She quickly wiped her eyes and turned back to face her other friends, absently shrugging Irving's hand away as she did. "Gretchen, Adyson, Ginger, Katie, Milly, Holly - I trust you girls more than anything. Can I ask you to help us with this?"

"Of course," said Gretchen, and the other girls gave their agreement along with her.

"We're not gonna wuss out just because this is a little scary," Adyson scoffed. "We've totally seen worse!"

Irving was about to voice his support as well when he noticed Buford and Baljeet, and the somber looks on their faces. He hesitated, then, remembering again how Isabella had responded to his excitement on the day they'd followed Phineas. The things the three of them had seen... Horrors beyond words, surely. Irving still found it hard to see Phineas and Ferb in a negative light, but hearing Buford's tale and what Isabella had to say about it, it was easier for him to understand why they seemed to feel the way they did about it all. "A little scary" probably wasn't an apt description of what they had experienced.

"Thank you so much, girls," Isabella said with a smile. "I knew I could count on you. As for the rest of you..." She paused, looked at Irving, then at Buford and Baljeet, then back towards her door.

"What is it?" Irving asked.

"Oh, Django still isn't here," Isabella replied with a tilt of her head. "He said he was coming. I wanted to ask him if he could maybe help make some artistic renderings of what happened, so we have something to reference."

"Wow, that sounds right up his alley," said Irving with a roll of his eyes. Django had become quite the impressive art student over the years, and it was basically his entire life - he didn't even have time for Space Adventure anymore. Unless he was taking commissions, anyway, and though Irving was annoyed with his blind devotion to art, he had bought a few pieces of his favorite sci-fi heroes in the past.

"I know, that's why I wanted to ask him." Isabella frowned as she looked at the door, then at the darkness outside of the window. "He would have told me if he wasn't coming..."

"Probably got caught up with his art," Irving said with a shrug.

Buford was the next to speak up, his voice wavering, but only just. "Are we, uh... sure we want any kinda visual rendition of what happened? I'll be honest, I don't really wanna relive it, let alone through art." Baljeet nodded next to him.

Isabella waved her hand. "Oh, nothing too graphic," she said. "Just a basic visual explanation of the events. I want to make sure that we can really get across what we saw." She nodded towards the other Fireside Girls. "Not just for those present, but for anyone we bring on in the future. Besides... Django wanted to be a part of this. He cares, too."

Irving folded his arms over his chest and sighed. "Yeah, which explains why he's so late, right?"

Isabella glared at him, then sat down on the arm of the couch and looked out the window again. "I'm sure he's on his way," she said.

Yet, for the strangest reason, she could feel dread beginning to form in the pit of her stomach.

The rain was starting up again.

Django swore under his breath as he tucked his sketchbook into his jacket and zipped it up. The oncoming night had been so picturesque that he wanted to walk to Isabella's house and take it all in; he had a few good sketches going, but he wouldn't be able to do anything in the rain. Not without watercolors, anyway, and he'd only brought along a few pencils.

"Aw, shoot!" he exclaimed as he looked down at his watch. "I'm late!" He held onto the part of his jacket that covered his sketchbook and began to jog through the rain. He had thought he was on good time; apparently, sketching out the trees during sunset had taken longer than he thought it would.

"Isabella is gonna be so upset if I'm not there soon," he muttered to himself as he rounded a corner. In the darkness of the night, it was easier to talk to himself than remain silent; it made him feel better about being out alone. He wasn't necessarily afraid, just... a bit uneasy. Everything had felt so off since the horrible accident...

And tonight's meeting was about that. Something about the accident, and how it was related to what happened to Buford and Baljeet. Isabella hadn't given Django any details outside of that, but he could begin to guess. There was only one thing that connected those two events, right? It was Phineas. He had done something, and somehow, it had injured his friends. Just another bad thing to come out of Ferb's death.

Just thinking that - Ferb's death - made Django's chest feel tight. Ferb was such a good friend, and he and Phineas were always so close... The two of them had inspired countless art pieces in the past decade, not the least of which was still proudly hung on the wall of his dad's art studio. That had been such a good day, painting with their giant tools...

Django's train of thought was interrupted by the sound of voices carrying through the night.

One was too quiet to hear, but the other was clear as day - and equally surprising. Unless Django was mistaken, he was hearing the happy-go-lucky voice of none other than Phineas Flynn.

The thought occurred to him to divert his path immediately; something was up with Phineas, and it was possibly something dangerous. At the same time, it sounded so much like he had always sounded before that Django had a hard time actually feeling that uneasy about running into him.

Through the haze of the rain, he could just barely see two approaching figures... and a brightly-glowing blue orb.

Curious now, Django continued forward, almost eager to see his friend again - and whoever he was talking with.

"That long, huh?"

Ferb swallowed hard and nodded. "Uh... Yeah. I guess you just looked so different when I got home..."

Phineas laughed and elbowed his brother in the ribs. "Well, no more summer vacations for you, alright? Not without me, anyway. We should definitely visit England again soon..." He looked down at the platypus walking between them. "I bet Perry would like to go again. Wouldn't you, boy?"

Perry chattered.

Ferb grimaced and rubbed his side. "I don't know about that," he said. "Maybe after you've made some more... Improvements. To me."

"Oh, of course," Phineas said as he reached out for Ferb's hand and held it tight. "I've got a lot of work to do before we'll be ready to go out traveling and exploring again. But as long as you're helping me, I'm sure we'll make great time on that! Don't you think so?"

"I guess."

As the rain began to pick up its pace, Phineas pulled the hood of his windbreaker up with his free hand. "You should have worn a jacket," he said to Ferb, who was only wearing a button-up shirt. "You were watching the rain for ages earlier. Didn't you think it'd come back?"

Ferb shrugged. "It's not that bad," he said as he held his right arm out and allowed the rain to patter down on it. "I like the rain. It feels nice."

Phineas looked at the extended arm as it gleamed in the light of the moon and Ferb's optic, then up at Ferb's face. Ferb looked back at him and offered a tentative smile. As always, Phineas beamed back, and Ferb's heart swelled in his chest. Even in the midst of all these terrible things, his brother was so wonderful. It was getting easier and easier to just get lost in that smile and forget all the horrors of the past few weeks...

"Hey, Phineas!"

Oh no.

Ferb stepped back as Phineas and Perry continued forward into the circle of light from a nearby streetlamp. From the haze of the rain came none other than Django Brown, looking quite soaked and rather unperturbed by it.

Does he know? Ferb thought in a sudden panic as he stepped back even further, trying to hide himself in the darkness just like he had on that very first day. He saw Perry glance back at him, and for a brief moment, the platypus's eyes were on focus. They locked eyes and Ferb could see his own worry neatly reflected in Perry's expression. It should have been shocking that there was an expression at all, but Ferb was too upset to think about it.

"Phin, how are you?" Django asked as the two of them met under the light. "Are you doing alright? I saw that thing on the news about the bear..."

Phineas stared at Django for a moment, his face blank, then broke into a smile. "Oh, right! That! Yeah, it was horrible." He laughed a little and gestured to Perry, who had sat down by his feet. "Perry was a real hero. I dunno what would have happened to the guys without him."

There was a tense pause, and Ferb felt his heart start racing in his chest - or whatever was in his ribcage.

"...Is that really what happened?" Django shifted his weight and held part of his jacket tightly. "I'm, uh... I'm on my way to go see Isabella. She told me something else happened, Phineas."

"Isabella?" Phineas stared again, his eyes wide and lips drawn tight.

"Yeah. She was gonna tell me and the others... I'm kinda late." Django chuckled uneasily and held up his watch. "But, hey, you're here! You can tell me what really happened, right dude?"

Ferb could feel the darkness creeping in, and he tried to will it away as hard as he could. Phineas looked back at him, and Ferb tried to gesture for him to hurry up and get the conversation over with.

"Who's that you're with, by the way?"

Ferb's chest tightened so hard he felt like he couldn't breathe.

"It's..." Phineas hesitated. "...Django. You know I can do amazing things, right?"

A chill breeze whipped past them, spraying rainwater and leaves everywhere and causing the streetlamp to flicker. Ferb felt all too aware of how his optic glowed in the dark.

"Yeah," Django said with a faltering smile. "Of course. I didn't forget, Phin. I know it's been a while and all, but..." He trailed off and looked in Ferb's direction. "...Uh, what did you do, exactly?"

Phineas leaned down to pick Perry up and held him close to his chest. "Nothing that couldn't be done," he said. Then he looked at Ferb again, motioning for his brother to step forward.

Ferb wanted nothing more than to not reveal himself, but he knew there was no way out (unless he ran away again, anyway, and he didn't want that either). Django would see through the dark eventually if he didn't just come forward. He had to let this happen.

So he went forward, stepped up next to his brother and into the light.

The whole world felt like it was swaying beneath him.

Django didn't seem to realize what he was seeing at first. He was confused. Perhaps he thought he was seeing an automaton of some kind. Yet as he stared harder, it all began to come together, and Ferb knew his face was still too recognizable even with the optic and the wires and the scars. He'd seen himself in the mirror enough times, been horrified by how much of himself he could see under so much that was entirely unfamiliar.

"Oh my god," Django choked out. "Is... Is that...?"

"I fixed him," Phineas said with a small smile. "It's okay. He's fine. And we found out what exactly made him go all out on Buford and Baljeet, so -"

"He did that to them?!" Django took several steps back, his eyes wide in sudden terror. "Baljeet had punctured organs! How did...?" He looked Ferb up and down quickly, then shook his head. "Oh my god. They were torn apart. You..."

"It's fine now," Phineas said, his voice strangely flat in the midst of all the emotions swirling up around him. "It won't happen again."

Perry struggled in his arms.

Ferb tried to take deep breaths.

"Phineas," Ferb croaked, his fingers digging into his brother's shoulder. "We need to go."

Django took a shaky step forward and raised his hand to point a shaking, accusatory finger. "You tried to kill them," he said as he looked into Ferb's eyes, his own face reflected back in the optic. "You... Phineas, how in the world is this thing safe?"

Ferb dug his fingers in harder, and Phineas winced and tried to pull away. "Ow, Ferb," he said, arms tightening around Perry. "You're hurting me."

"Why is he hurting you?!" Django asked in a panic. "Phineas, what's going on with him- with that thing?"

Phineas tried to explain, tried to open his mouth to say that Ferb was just nervous, that it was nothing to do with him being what he was now. He wasn't dangerous. He wasn't a threat. There was no need to be scared, and if Django could just calm down, they could get through this painlessly.

If he managed to say anything at all, Ferb didn't hear it. All he heard was, "Why is he hurting you?" and "that thing". Then the darkness was rushing in to meet him, eagerly feeding on the echoes of Django's words.

The sketchbook Django had been carrying with him clattered to the sidewalk, falling open to a piece done shortly after the funeral of a sad young man in a black tuxedo.