DISCLAIMER: Everything about Phineas and Ferb is owned by the triumvirate of Dan, Jeff, and Disney. If you don't know what 'triumvirate' is, grab a dictionary.

Chapter 3 - Hello, Nurse

"Can I try the stethoscope on him?"

"Buford, stop it."

"What? I just wanna use it."

"This isn't funny. He could still be seriously hurt."

"Which is why I was gonna check his heartbeat."

"Ferb already did that, dude. We'll see how he is when he gets back."

The voices sounded very muffled. It was as if Irving's brain couldn't properly translate them. He knew there were three distinct voices: two boys and a girl. He just couldn't tell who.

It would have been so much easier to just open his eyes, had it not been for the pounding headache that was now being fully realized. He groaned loudly in an attempt to subdue the pain, but to no avail.

"Hold on, I think he's waking up."

The words were becoming more clear, now that he was partially awake. He creaked his eyes open a bit, and saw the blurry outline of Buford's face right in his.

"Mornin', sunshine."

Irving groaned, rubbing his nose with his finger. "I'm not in the mood, Buford."

"You're not in the mood? You wouldn't believe what I had to go through tod—OW!"

A blurry fist went into the side of Buford, causing his outburst of pain. The red-headed blur shook his head. "You might want to lay off for now, Buford, or else Isabella's going to make sure you have a bruise there."

"Noted," the bully replied, handing Irving's glasses to him.

"Thanks." He put them on, and everything came back into focus.

He could see the rest of the room now. The lights weren't on, but the sunshine was creeping through the blinds in the solitary window. Various biology and health posters were on the walls, depicting things like skeletons and basic CPR instructions. A second, identical bed was on the wall to his left. Phineas and Buford were standing to the left of his bed, Isabella in a chair next to them. Her face seemed drained, her hands was covering her mouth, and her eyes kept darting in random directions.

"Are...you all right, Isabella?" Irving asked.

"She's a little out of it, dude," Phineas replied, tapping the mattress absentmindedly. "Things went pretty downhill for a while. I don't think I've ever seen her like this before. But she'll be fine. We're more worried about you."

"Well, besides my head, I feel fine. Luckily I was blessed with a pretty thick skull." Irving chuckled a bit.

"That's good to know. Ferb and Gretchen are due back any second; they'll check you out for anything that's lingering."

"Wait, why are they-"

Irving was cut off by the opening of the door, and the green-haired boy walked in, closely followed by Isabella's best friend, Gretchen. The both of them were dressed in long white medical coats. The former had a manila envelope tucked under his arm, and the latter had a clipboard full of charts and reports. Confused, Irving looked at Phineas.

"Nursing duties for a week, dude," the redhead said, answering his silent question.. "Everyone's gotta do them."

Irving glanced at Buford, not believing his ears, but the bully shrugged him off, apparently not aware of that fact either.

"Ahh, you're awake, Irving! That's good to see! Let me make sure that's on your chart..." Gretchen leafed through her clipboard of paper while Ferb began to put X-rays onto a lit display board. Irving could clearly see one of the skulls had a non-attached jaw to it.

"Holy cow, was my jaw dislocated?"

Gretchen looked up from her paper, glancing at the picture. "What? Oh! No." Sheepishly, she elbowed Ferb, who came to the same realization that she had. "That's...something different." Ferb took down the X-rays, stuffing them back into the folder. "That's for a class project. Anywho..."

She walked over to Irving, her clipboard at her side. "You had a pretty nasty contusion on the back of your head, Irving. Metal lockers will do that to you." She pulled a mini-flashlight out of her pocket and scanned both of Irving's eyes. Seemingly satisfied, she made a note on her clipboard. "Luckily it doesn't seem like it was too bad; your ocular reflexes seems to be normal, and there aren't any injuries to your cornea. That's a good sign."

"Yeah, I have a killer headache right now," Irving stated.

"Not unexpected. We would've been more surprised if you didn't have one. I'll see if I can get you some aspirin."

Peering past Buford's shoulder, he saw the second bed on the far wall was unoccupied. It could have sworn that Katie would've been in it.

"Oh, did Katie get released? Where's she at?"

It was like all of the air had instantly been sucked out of the room. Gretchen looked down at her papers, uttering nothing. Phineas stared off in a random direction. Even Buford had grown unnaturally quiet. Irving turned to Isabella.

"Where's Katie?" he repeated, a little more forcefully this time.

The rest of the crowd followed his gaze to the Mexican-Jewish girl, whose mouth was still covered by her hand. Slowly, she lowered it, and began whispering.

"She...uh...she had to go to the hospital."

Irving's heart stopped.

"Dylan broke her leg."

His mind vaguely brought for the picture of Katie being pinned to the wall by Dylan, and the sudden crack he had heard when his boot made contact with her shin. That had to have been the cause of it.

"The...uh..." Isabella stopped, trying to collect herself. Thankfully, it was Phineas that continued onward.

"The paramedics came and took her away a while ago. There were going to take you too, but there was apparently some sort of mix-up when Mr. Humphries called them. He had heard that only Katie had gotten injured, so they didn't have enough room for the both of you."

"You had actually regained consciousness before they even arrived. You seemed fine, so they just gave you a quick check-up before they left. We kept you in here for observation and you went out of it again," Gretchen added. "You don't remember any of that?"

Irving shook his head. "No. None of that."

"Perhaps you got hit harder than we thought." She looked through her papers. "Maybe we should call them again and get you to the hospital."

"No, I'm...fine. Really." Irving rubbed the back of his head, feeling the lump where he had hit the locker.

There was going to be a nice bruise there for quite some time. "I think I just need to take it easy for a bit. It's probably for the best I don't remember what happened."

He couldn't help but feel terrible about Katie's condition. It was his fault that both of them were even in this predicament. The guilt must have shown on his face, because Phineas cleared his throat and spoke up again.

"It's not your fault, dude. Dylan's had it for a long time coming. The only reason he hadn't been punished was that no one was stepping up against him. Won't have to worry about that anymore, now will we?" he said with a smile.

"No, Mr. Flynn, we most certainly will not."

The kids turned their heads to see a tall, gray-haired man, his frame filling the doorway impeccably. He gave a slight tug onto his tie as he walked into the room, his eyes not leaving Irving's face. Phineas and the others fell quiet and stiffened to attention.

"Ms. Jenkins, if you be so kind," the man said, holding out his hand toward Gretchen. She wordlessly handed the chart to him.

"Thank you." His eyes scanned the paper, as if searching for something. After a moment, he handed the clipboard back to her, replacing his hands back behind his back. "How are you feeling, Mr. Stommeling?"

It wasn't every day that you got a personal visit from the principal of the school, so Irving had been thrown off since the man's arrival. He could only muster a prolonged "Uh...", and that seemed to make the man grin.

"Are you sure that he is alright, Ms. Jenkins?" he said, peering at Gretchen. "He appears to be a little out of it."

"Well, he just woke up a few minutes ago, sir. And apparently he doesn't remember anything after he fell unconscious in the hallway."

Mr. Humphries frowned, turning his attention back to Irving. "Is this true, Mr. Stommeling?"

Irving nodded his assent.

"Have you filled him in on the details, Mr. Flynn?"

"Some of them, sir," Phineas replied. "We were just in the middle of doing that."

The principal mirrored Irving's action. "If you do not mind, Mr. Flynn, I would prefer to take it from here."

"Of course, sir."

Mr. Humphries took a deep breath, his gaze wondering to everyone in the room. "First of all," he started, "I would like to apologize to everyone on a couple of matters. If I had known that Dylan had been doing things to the severity that he was, I would have done something about him a long time ago. However, I can only be in so many places at once, as well as the teachers. We will work harder to assure that nothing like this happens again.

"I would also like to apologize to you specifically, Mr. Stommeling. The chain of information that had been passed down to me was, regrettably, incorrect. I had only heard about Ms. Brooke's injuries, and by the time yours had been made aware, you appeared to have been fine. If I had know you would relapse, I would have called an ambulance for you as well."

"Sir," Irving interrupted, "What about Katie?"

Mr. Humphries raised an eyebrow, and Irving thought he had crossed a line. However, it seemed that the principal was amused about something, because a small smirk appeared on his face. "Your concern is noted, Mr. Stommeling. However, I ask that you let me finish. I promise to get to her soon enough."

He had so many more questions to ask him, but Irving thought better of it, and settled back down into the bed.

"About the incident," the principal continued, as if he had not been interrupted at all, "The first staff member appeared on the scene shortly after you had been attacked. He got there to see that Mr. Van Stomm here (motioning to Buford) had...'detained' Dylan." He put up his finger quotes for emphasis. "Personally, the half-nelson was not entirely necessary, but I don't think Dylan planned on cooperating with anyone at that point.

"I had arrived on the scene myself after the staff had a chance to restore order. You were being attended to by Ms. Hirano, and Ms. Brooke was being helped by Mr. Patel. He was able to secure her leg so to avoid any more injury to it before the paramedics arrived. You were conscious and alert, so I had made the decision to not send you with Ms. Brooke to the hospital. We then transported you here, where you appeared to had fallen unconscious for a second time. I was just checking to see whether I would have to call the ambulance again, but I see that won't be necessary. And it also seems," he concluded, motioning to the group of kids in the room, "that your friends were awfully worried about your condition. So much, in fact, that they decided to skip class in their haste to check up on you."

Irving blushed furiously. He hadn't known the group had done all of that. It made me smile to know that they had gone out of their way to see if he was all right.

"Yeah...about the whole detainin' thing..." Buford said, stepping forward. "I was just trying to stop him. He was going off on everyone else after he was done with Fanboy."

"I am perfectly aware of that, Mr. Van Stomm," Mr. Humphries retorted. "Had you not appeared, the situation could have gotten much worse. I don't have any plans to punish you for your actions."

The opening sounds of "Gitchie Gitchie Goo" interrupted the conversation, the words coming from the principal's pocket. He rolled his eyes, pulling the phone out of his hand.

"I tell the staff to keep their phones on silent, and irony just happens to strike down from the heavens. Lucky me. Pardon me for a moment." He put the phone up to his ear. "Hello? Oh, Naomi! How are you doing?"

Irving could only catch his side of the conversation, and it didn't help him discern any of what the subject was. For a minute, all he said was "Mmhmm" and "Yes". He glanced at Isabella, who had not moved during the entire exchange. She still appeared to be dumbstruck by the day's events.

"He's fine as well." Irving's ears perked up at his statement. "We had a slight scare earlier, but everything appears to have sorted out. You can pass that along."

He looked down the line from Phineas to Gretchen, who all shrugged at his unspoken question. They had no idea about the conversation either.

"Thank you for keeping me in the loop, Naomi," Mr. Humphries said, pacing back toward the bed. " I will go ahead and inform them now. Please send her my regards. Thank you."

He closed his phone, his full attention now back on the group. "That was Dr. Hirano. Ms. Brooke is going to be fine. She's getting her cast set up right now, and she is in good spirits, albeit a little distressed by her current situation."

Irving felt a huge weight lift off of his mind. He inwardly sighed, knowing that that part of his brain could rest easier.

"She was also terribly worried about you as well, Mr. Stommeling," the principal said, inclining his head toward Irving. "So much so, in fact, that it took quite a bit to calm her down, according to Dr. Hirano. She can probably be comforted by the fact that you are all right."

Irving felt his blush go even further, and even though no one commented on it, he prayed that it would stay that way.

And then he remembered something.

"Sir, has anyone called my mom?"

Mr. Humphries' demeanor shifted as his gaze went to the window. "I spoke to her personally several minutes ago to update your condition. She works downtown, if I remember correctly? It should take her just a little more time to-"

A sudden screech from outside halted his sentence. The group turned their heads to the window as Mr. Humphries walked over to it. He peered through the blinds, and then widened his eyes.

"Never mind. Your mother has arrived."

Irving craned his neck to look through the opening. He could clearly see his mom getting out of her car, purse to her side, and a very agitated look on her face. One of the counselors was trying to talk to her, but it looked like she wasn't having any of it.

"Ahh, and now for the fun part of the job. Dealing with emotional parents. No offense, Mr. Stommeling."

"None taken, sir," Irving replied. "She can be a little...animated."

The principal straightened up and turned to the group. "I will go ahead and attempt to calm her down a little bit. We probably do not need another ruckus made in the hallways again. I am going to ask the rest of you to please vacate this room so that Mr. Stommeling can have a little bit of time to himself. You probably do not want to be anywhere near his mother in her current emotional state."

He looked at Phineas and Buford. "It would probably be best for the both of you to return to class. I will give you both passes to give to your teachers. There are no doubt wondering where the both of you are."

He then turned to Isabella. "You obviously want to see Ms. Brooke, as she is part of your troop. I will go ahead and set up arrangements for you and Ms. Jenkins to go to the hospital. If you want to scrounge up Ms. Sweetwater, Ms. Hirano, Ms. Buchanan, and Ms. Jackson (glancing at Gretchen), that would be fine."

"Of course, sir. I'll do that," Gretchen answered, nodding her head. Isabella did not respond.

"Mr. Fletcher..." Mr. Humphries, focusing on the last person. "Please finish the medical report and have it on my desk by the end of the day. I want to make sure that there is a copy of it on record."

Ferb gave a silent thumb-up, a sign of his confirmation.

"Very well," he concluded, looking at his watch. "Everyone meet in my office in...let's say five minutes. I will sort out everything there. In the meantime, let's give Mr. Stommeling some quiet time."

The group made their way toward the door, being trailed by the principal. Irving looked down at the covers, going over the whirlwind of events that had transpired. It seemed like just a short time ago that he was worried over missing class and being at the wrath of Dylan.

Wait a minute.

"Sir!"

Mr. Humphries stopped in the doorway, turning back into the room. "Yes?"

"What happened to Dylan?"

Irving could see that this was a point that the principal had been trying to avoid. He peered over his glasses at him, as if deciding whether to tell him or not. He sighed, then straightened his stance.

"Dylan was escorted off of the grounds by police, who arrived at the same time as the paramedics. From what Mr. Van Stomm told me earlier, he was not being very reasonable with anyone, much less the officers. He is currently being held at the station, waiting to be released to the custody of his parents."

Irving opened his mouth again, but the principal cut him off.

"He is also, effective immediately, no longer a student at this school."

Irving closed his mouth, his question answered.

"I will have to speak with you at some point on your recollections of what exactly happened before your injuries, but that can wait. You need to recover, and I don't believe you're going to get that here. Go home. Get some rest. Our talk can wait until you return to school."

He nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"Ms. Garcia-Shapiro, if you would come with me."

Irving, to his great surprise, realized that Isabella had not moved at all during the principal's talk. She still had her head in her hands, although the color was coming back to her face. She looked up and spoke to Mr. Humphries.

"Can I...talk to Irving for a second? Alone?"

He looked from the girl to Irving, then back to her. "Do you object, Mr. Stommeling?"

"No," he replied, although right now he was wishing he had said the opposite.

"All right then," he said, looking back down the hallway. "You may have a moment. However, I would advise you not taking too long. I don't believe my secretary can calm your mother down any more, and who knows how much I'm going to be able to do? I shall see you both momentarily." With a final nod, he was off, closing the door behind him.

Irving now felt very uneasy being alone with Isabella. She had been nothing like her usual self since he had woke up, and all of that discomfort was settling in. She was Katie's troop leader after all; no doubt she felt some sort of responsibility for what happened to her and distraught for her injuries.

He looked at her face, and recoiled when he saw her staring back at him. The look wasn't angry, or even aggravated; it was more inquisitive than anything. Feeling like he needed to break the ice, Irving started talking.

"Look, Isabella, I feel really bad about what happened to Katie. I didn't-"

The Mexican-Jewish girl held up her hand, motioning him to stop, and he fell silent. He had learned quickly that it wasn't very smart to mess with the troop leader on any regard, much less interrupt her. If she didn't say anything soon, though, his mom was going to barge in at any-

"She's vouched for you, you know."

"Hmm?" Irving didn't understand.

"Katie's the one who's been supportive of you this entire time," Isabella muttered. "Even when everyone else said to just forget about you because of your...personality. Not even Phineas was that adamant." She looked away from him, her eyes narrowing in sadness. "Even I've had a few reservations about you in the past."

"I am a little over-the-top when it comes to things, yeah," Irving said, rubbing his head. "I've been working on that."

"I know you have. Katie's been telling me about it."

"Wait, she's what?"

"Katie's been worried about you for a little bit," Isabella said. "She's been doing little things, like checking in on you to make sure you're all right. She had a feeling you needed some cheering up recently. Even brought it up at the last Fireside Girl meeting."

"Oh man." Irving drooped his head. "That makes me feel worse."

"Why is that? Why do you feel bad about it?"

"You want to know why?" Irving went into his pocket and pulled out his slip. "Katie gave this to me when we were in the hallway. She wanted me to report Dylan. And I was going to. And then she saw him in the hallway and..."

He trailed off, trying hard to calm himself down. "I feel responsible about everything. If I hadn't told her about Dylan, I feel like none of this would've happened."

"And if you hadn't stood up for her, she was going to have a whole lot worse than just a broken leg," she replied firmly.

"She wouldn't have a broken leg right now if I had just shut up!"

"You have no idea if that would've happened or not. For all you know, Dylan was on the edge anyway. I've seen him when he's at his worst. If Katie had been on that end..." Isabella paused slightly. "I don't even want to think about that."

Irving said nothing, trying not to think about that possibility either.

"She stood up for you, Irving. And you stood up for her. And I'm glad that you were there."

She paused, and got up from her chair. Without any warning, she hugged his neck, and Irving felt the blush come up his cheeks again.

"And I'm glad that you're OK."

He awkwardly put his arm around her. "She's going to be OK too. It'll just take a little time."

She leaned back, her cheeks slightly pink. "I know. It's just hard when you have friends in this sort of situation."

"You...consider me a friend?"

"Don't be stupid, Irving; of course I do," she replied. "We all do. Phineas, Ferb, me, Buford, everyone. Don't ever think otherwise. You can be a little eccentric sometimes, but we all have our little quirks about us. We've gotten used to it."

He looked away. It was nice that everyone didn't feel any weirdness when it came to him; that was the last thing that he had ever wanted anyone to feel.

"Look, I better get going." Isabella glanced toward the door. "Gretchen's probably gotten everyone else by now and waiting on me. We'll fill Katie in on what happened. Don't worry about it. Just get better." She started off toward the exit.

"Can you do something for me, Isabella?"

She stopped mid-stride. "Sure, what is it?"

"Can you..." He paused, not sure as to what exactly to say. He found it sort of awkward talking to her troop leader about one of her members, but he couldn't see any other alternative.

"Can you...tell her thanks for her support? And that I'm glad she's OK? And I'm sorry for what happened?"

Isabella turned toward him, her face unreadable. "No. I'm not."

"What?"

"I'm not going to tell her." She pulled a pen out of nowhere and started writing on a stray piece of paper. "You are going to go to her house," she said, "and you are going to tell her yourself. There's her address," she finished, handing the paper to him.

"Wha-"

"Trust me, Irving. She needs to talk to you just as much as you need to talk to her. I'm doing both of you a favor. You'll thank me later."

"Isabella," he started, trying to wrap his head around what was happening, "I don't even know what I'm going to say to her."

"She doesn't know either, Irving," Isabella retorted, hands on her hips. "Why do you think she hasn't told you about any of what I just said? She's too scared to. This way, both of you can just lay it out there. You can say your spiel to her about what happened and your feelings about it, and she can tell you her...feelings as well. "

The last part had been oddly punctuated, so Irving couldn't help but be a little curious about her choice of words. "What feelings?"

Isabella walked over to the door, at first not acknowledging his question. Opening it, she turned back, a small smile apparent on her face. "Talk to her, Irving. It will be a whole lot better coming from her than me."

She left the room, and for the second time that day, he was left with nothing but a paper in his hand and a list of questions on his mind.

AUTHOR'S NOTE (apologies for the length): I know I'm somewhat on the outside when it comes to Irving and his usefulness in fanon works (and by somewhat, I mean I am). Most people don't really regard him as an important character, or one that's only good for a background laugh or two. This story, however, brings him into the spotlight, and to me deservedly so. I am of the thinking that he has a relevant spot in good stories. He just needs to be written well.

And I also think it's important for him to actually be friends with the rest of the gang rather than him be the weird, overly-exuberant kid that the group just tolerates like in the show. People grow. People change. It should be natural for Irving to be more integrated into the circle of friends, and you're even beginning to see that in the show. Just compare the Irving when he was first introduced to the one now. It's a world apart.

A couple of minor things, then I'll shut up: The principal, Mr. Humphries, was originally not going to appear in this chapter. But, the more I wrote, the more I realized that mentioning him in the first two chapters would have to warrant an appearance by him here. Plus...phone humor.

Some people may object to me not going a little bit further as regards to Dylan and his punishment, but in the end, this story isn't really about him. It's about Irving (and Katie). And like real life, it's best not to reminisce too much about bullies, because getting caught up thinking about them is exactly what they want. It would be wise not to give them any more ego-stroking attention then they already possess.

Last thing, I swear. Irving has no given last name (or Gretchen or any other FS Girl for that matter sans Adyson), so I gave him the one he was rumored to have. I think it rather suits him.

I have not decided on whether the next chapter will be the last, or whether I will split off the end of it into an entirely new chapter. It will depend on how much I have to rewrite, because (Trivia Alert!) parts of the next chapter were actually the first things I wrote for this story. I have some special surprises in store for Chapter 4, including some actual Katie/Irving (because everyone was clamoring for it */sarcasm*) and awkwardness up the wazoo. Gotta love it.

Read and review, if you like. Until next time.