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“Behold, the Amnesia-Inator!” Doofenshmirtz exclaimed, his arms spread wide.
Perry flinched, the trap tightening around him. That machine was hauntingly familiar—almost identical to the one he remembered—and Perry knew that Doofenshmirtz had unwittingly remade the whole Inator since his memory wipe. Thinking back to the OWCA’s use of the first Amnesia-Inator, after that incredible interdimensional adventure, made his stomach churn. If this one worked as well as the last, it would be able to make a person forget anything: betrayal, love, the best day they had ever had…
“This is the greatest idea I’ve had yet, Perry the Platypus! All I have to do is zap Roger with this baby,” he continued, patting it affectionately, “and he’ll completely forget he’s the mayor! Then, I can eeeeasily convince him that I’m the mayor, and rule the entire Tri-State Area!”
Perry was barely listening, too uneasy to really be in the spirit of the day’s battle. He resolved to escape the mechanical snake wrapped around him right away. Perry started whistling a quick, melodic tune under his breath, and the snake’s head began swaying from side-to-side. The more charmed it became, the looser its hold. It hissed as he pulled his arm free, then flailed as he grabbed it by the back of the head and lobbed it away into a corner, all while Doofenshmirtz continued to explain his evil scheme.
“You know, if he lost his entire memory, I could call myself the best-loved son. I could make Roger believe that he had to be a gnome and get raised by ocelots, totally humiliating him, and still become the new mayor,” he said, pacing without taking any notice of his nemesis. “That settles it. I’m dialling it up to an entire memory wipe!” Doofenshmirtz conveniently turned his back to Perry, facing his machine console to make the appropriate changes.
Perry took the opportunity to kick him in the back of his neck, making Doofenshmirtz fall onto his machine. With a drawn-out whine, he said, “Ow! Oh, Perry the Platypus, my neck is burning, is that normal? Can you look it up on the internet to check I’m not going to become paralysed? Oh, wait, it’s gone. I feel fine now. Time to foil you!” He sprang into action, aiming punches and kicks at Perry, who deftly dodged out of their way. Then, he glared, straightened up and put his hands on his hips. “Hey, where’d the snake go?”
Perry rolled over to the corner and snatched up the feebly-hissing snake off of the floor and flung it at Doofenshmirtz. In what seemed to be an automatic response, the robot curled up around his arm. “Oh, for badness’ sake!” he complained, trying to shake it off. When that didn’t work, Doofenshmirtz gave up and made another grab for Perry as he leapt, ducked and dived out of the way.
Doofenshmirtz groaned and spun around back to the Amnesia-Inator, facing the open window where sunlight was glinting off of a complex set-up of reflective surfaces. “Fine, if you’re going to be so annoying, I’ll just have to be quick. I hope you appreciate how long it took to arrange these mirrors, Perry the Platypus, all the way to Roger’s oh-so-cushy office. Now, farewell, Roger’s memory!”
He slammed his hand down onto the lever at the exact moment that Perry leapt up and, with an inhuman (or inplatypus) amount of strength, moved the Amnesia-Inator’s bursting laser far away from the mirrors.
“No fair, this snake threw me off,” Doofenshmirtz said with another flick of his arm. The snake spat out a warning and moved higher up towards his shoulder. Doofenshmirtz made a noise of displeasure and stretched his head back, then got distracted by the trajectory of the laser. “Wait a minute, Perry the Platypus. Have you ever noticed that my Inators always seem to end up getting fired towards the suburbs over there? There must be, like, a giant magnet over there, perhaps of the electrical variety, or something, causing an irreversible pull towards that area!”
Perry’s eyes widened. No. No, no, no. Not there. Not them. Had he just kicked the ray towards his own family? He chattered with distress and, rather than diving for the self-destruct button, started to check all of the settings and parts of the machine to find some kind of reverse setting. An undo. Anything.
“Hey, get away from there! I will strike you down, Perry the Platypus,” Doofenshmirtz said, stretching out towards his nemesis. Before he could get his hands on him, however, the snake snapped. It sank its metal fangs into the scientist’s collar, and he instantly slowed down. “Oh, right… The code word… You… were supposed to strike him, not… me.”
Doofenshmirtz collapsed, still breathing but otherwise down for the count.
All Perry could do was keep searching.
Phineas whooped with delight, his stomach flip-flopping as he fell. When he was a few feet above the ground, he pushed a button on his remote that turned the contraption back on, and he got pulled up by his thin steel suit towards the giant electromagnet. He gave a high-five to Ferb on his way up as he passed and said, “This is great! All the fun of a bungee-jump without dealing with any pesky bungee.”
Ferb did a somersault in the air, unfolding and just barely touching the ground with his tiptoe before activating his half of the magnet and rising up like a superhero. It was quieter without their other friends there, but Phineas had never minded a bit of quiet he could fill. With Isabella coaching the new Fireside Girl recruits, Buford and Baljeet at the annual Bully-Nerd convention, and their family away for a fancy lunch date, the boys had the backyard to themselves.
Phineas neared the magnet and flicked it back to off, letting himself fall a few feet, then rise a few, then fall again. It was when he was about five feet high that the laser hit.
He barely had time to realising he was in the air before he hit the ground and pain rushed through him, oxygen rushing out.
“Phineas!” a voice called out.
He opened his eyes and saw a huge machine above him that whirred with a powering-down noise. That was odd.
“Phineas?” that voice said again, and a face appeared in his line of sight. A boy, about sixteen or so, with a strong nose, green hair—green? —and worry in his wide eyes.
Is he talking to me? Why does he think that’s my name? Wait. What… is my name? He started to hyperventilate because he didn’t know the answer to that question. He couldn’t even think of how to process those implications. I can’t…remember where I am. Who I am. Who he is. Why can’t I remember anything?!
The boy’s brows etched together. “Phin, are you hurt?” he asked, placing a hand over his rapidly-beating heart. He had a British accent, soft vowels blanketing the Rs in his words.
Phin. Phineas. He knows who I am, but how do I explain…? Phineas thought as he stared up at this anxious person in silence.
The boy’s eyes searched him in the meantime. He ran his hands over Phineas’ body and removed the weird metallic suit he was wearing; Phineas sucked in a breath whenever he passed over spots that were sure to bruise later on. It was a gentle touch, caring but swift, taking in an inventory of any possible problems. Phineas didn’t have any broken bones, and the pain was lessening all the time, but he was so entranced by this boy that he almost forgot to answer his question.
“I’m not hurt,” he said weakly. He hated the anguished expression he saw on that unfamiliar face; as soon as he said those words, however, the boy met his eyes and smiled, and it eased the strange clench Phineas felt in his chest. He wished he could tell him nothing was wrong, to rid that lingering doubt in his face, but he couldn’t. He tried to recall something about himself, or this little backyard they were in, or anything, but he just couldn’t. It was as if his hard drive had been wiped, and—why could he bring up the image of a hard drive when he couldn’t remember who this boy—who so obviously cared for him and was important to him—was?
He seemed hesitant to speak, looking at Phineas like he was waiting for him to say something, as if… Phineas should just know what he was thinking.
“What happened?” he eventually said, still keeping his palm over Phineas’s chest.
“I… I can’t…” he began, faltering as he struggled to think of what to say.
The boy waited a few moments before asking a different question. “The laser. What did the laser do to make you fall?”
Who is he to me? Phineas wondered, feeling like he should try to piece together the puzzle, so that he could reassure him. Then, more pressingly, laser? No, wait. He could remember that. A bright light filling his vision and a warmth spreading through him, but before that, nothing more than a complete blank. “It made my… It… I-I just found myself in the air, about to hit the ground, and then, wham, there the ground was.”
The boy’s lips pursed with thought. “Come on, before anything else, let’s get you inside,” he said as he moved closer, putting an arm under Phineas’s and helping him to his feet. The close contact made Phineas’s heart stutter. The green-haired boy was a good few inches taller than him, lithe and well-dressed—he really, really liked that combination. Phineas’s legs were shaky, but with his companion supporting him, they walked across the grass, under that huge, incomprehensible machine, and into an ordinary American home.
They passed through a living room and Phineas’s eyes darted around to take in all the details. Sofa, table, elephant lamp, TV—picture frames! He barely got a chance to see a redheaded young woman in a graduation outfit before they moved into the kitchen and the boy sat him down on a stool at the counter. A counter with no photos give him clues to his identity at all.
What am I meant to say? How do I admit what happened? Phineas thought as the boy went to get him a glass of water. Then he spied a small, messy pile of make-up supplies, including a flipped-open mirror, and he grabbed it. He stared at his reflection, his eyes widening.
Red, spiky hair, a prominent, pointed nose, faint freckles on his cheeks, blue eyes. About sixteen or seventeen years old, just like his companion. Okay. That gave him something to work with. The boy must be a friend of his, who came over to use that… strange machine outside. They must be close, because he was comfortable around the house… comfortable around Phineas, he recalled with a faint blush.
He jumped a little at the thunk of the glass of water put down in front of him.
“Phineas, what’s going on? Did you hit your head? You might have a concussion,” the boy asked after Phineas had taken a few sips.
“N-no, I didn’t hit my head. No injuries. But there’s… it’s…” he faltered. The mounting anxiety twisted his stomach like a rung-out rag.
“You can tell me,” he urged with a hand on his shoulder and a direct look.
“I… I can’t remember,” Phineas choked out. “I can’t remember anything. I didn’t know why I was in the air, and it was terrifying, and I can’t remember who I am or who you are or anything and that’s even more terrifying.”
He didn’t even realise he was grabbing onto the boy’s collar until he felt the shake in his clenched fists.
“You don’t… remember me?”
“No!” Phineas exclaimed, grabbing him all the more tightly. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but I… I know that I care about you.” All the little things made that obvious: the comfort the boy brought, the way his body reacted, their closeness.
His companion let out a quiet, shuddery breath, and Phineas didn’t know what it was about his outwardly neutral expression that gave it away, but he knew how much this was upsetting him. “Okay. Okay.” He straightened up and placed his hands over Phineas’s, bringing them down to the counter and holding them with a bit of welcome pressure. “My name is Ferb Fletcher. Your name is Phineas Flynn. You’re seventeen years old, same as I am. You’re an inventor. And we’re—”
There was a knock on the door, and both boys turned their heads towards the sound. Ferb glanced between Phineas and the front door. “Okay, wait there for a second,” he said before going to deal with it.
Disappointment washed through him, not just because of the interrupted information but because he could listen to that voice—Ferb’s voice—forever. God, how could he feel so smitten with someone he didn’t even know?
Maybe they were more than friends. All the touching, the kind words, that sheer sorrow in Ferb’s eyes when he learned the truth—it would make sense. And they obviously weren’t related, judging by their ages, looks, nationalities and surnames. That woman he saw in the photograph, that definitely could have been his sister, so this must be the Flynn family home. And Ferb… Ferb was his rock. His other half. Phineas and Ferb. It sounded right.
Phineas was about to get up to go see more of the house before he heard the door shut and Ferb returned.
“Just a saleswoman,” he clarified, then sat beside Phineas with his hands resting on his legs. “Don’t worry, Phineas. We can fix this.”
“I’m not worried anymore. If you think we can get my memories back, then I know we will. I trust you.” Phineas repeated Ferb’s action from earlier, taking his hands and squeezing them.
Something in him compelled him to act when Ferb met his eyes, saw that understanding, that bond that couldn’t even be broken by amnesia. It compelled to seize the moment, like it was an inherent part of his personality. He leaned forward and kissed him, and it felt right.
Until Ferb jerked away with a gasp.
“Phineas, no, we’re not—we—we’re brothers,” Ferb said, and each word made a pit of dread form in Phineas’s stomach until the final one crashed through him like a boulder.
“Wh… what?” He thought back through the assumptions he’d made, squirming with intense discomfort at himself. “… Adopted?”
“Stepbrothers,” Ferb murmured, and Phineas was pretty he hadn’t even blinked since the kiss. “We’re—we’re stepbrothers.”
“I… I am so sorry, god, I…” Phineas stammered, tripping over his words so much he couldn’t get them out.
“It’s—it’s okay. You didn’t know.”
“I assumed, and I—” He slapped his palm over his mouth, his brow tightly knitted as thought about just how much he had fucked up. It wasn’t like this revelation changed the fact that he’d been attracted to Ferb from the start, and, far beneath all of the shame, there was still that part of his mind that thought, His lips felt so nice on mine. How could he be so stupid?
“Phineas. Phineas.”
He snapped out of it, looking at Ferb like a rabbit in headlights.
“You just surprised me. I’m with you. Always. It’s only because you don’t have your memories that you wouldn’t realise that.”
Phineas paused, lowered his hand and gave him a faint smile.
“Come on, I have an idea.”
Perry pushed his emotions away, focusing only on the work he was doing. He found different memory loss settings looking through the console—a day, a week, a month, and there, the currently-selected “Total Memory Wipe.” He went back to the menu, tapped on “Troubleshooting”—and found it. Recover Previous Memory Wipe. The relief that washed through him was palpable. He could give his family back their memories or let the OWCA find whichever unsuspecting bystander might have been hit by that ray.
Doofenshmirtz groaned as he came to.
Perry ignored this at first, though—he stuck a USB stick into the console port and started to copy the data. He watched, glancing back at the rising percentage on the screen, as Doofenshmirtz sat up at 33%, stood at 50%, shouted a warning and took his first step at 60%. The copy was only at 79% as Doofenshmirtz neared him, and Perry hurriedly chirped and pointed behind his shoulder.
“Oh, please, Perry the Platypus, I am not going to fall for such a—!” Perry’s webbed foot connected with his chin, snapping his head up and bringing them back into the fighting rhythm. When Perry backflipped away from him, the copy was at 99%, and thrill ran through him. He traded a few blows with Doofenshmirtz, twisting his arm behind his back and standing on his shoulders to check the progress again as Doofenshmirtz yelped.
Still 99%?!
He needed to wrap this up.
Doofenshmirtz manoeuvred his body to face Perry again, letting out a “Woah, woah!” as Perry used his momentum against him, yanking on his arm to lob Doofenshmirtz into a mess of partially-made Inators and scrap.
“Ugh, I knew I should have cleaned this up before you got here,” he said, struggling to extricate himself from a tangle of wires.
There it was—100%! Perry snatched the (literal) memory stick out of the Amnesia-Inator and stuck it under his hat. He quickly reprogrammed the machine, using a joystick to move the laser and fired it, zapping Doofenshmirtz before he could free himself from the machinery he was stuck in.
In the moment after, whilst Doofenshmirtz was dazed, Perry whipped out a pen and scribbled a couple of things on the Amnesia-Inator.
“Huh? What the—Perry the Platypus! When did you get here? And what is that?”
Perry chattered and pointed at the name written on the machine.
“Ooh, a Doonkleberry Cake Maker-Inator? Just for me? You shouldn’t have!”
Perry tipped his hat, gestured to the big red button with a hastily-scribbled out “Self-Destruct” and a written-in “Make Cake,” and left Doofenshmirtz to his device.
He hadn’t been sure such a simple trick would work. But Doofenshmirtz must have still been a little confused from the short-term memory wipe, because the explosion rung out as Perry parachuted away and back to his boys, followed by the signature, “Curse you, Perry the Platypus!”
Phineas flicked through the photo album Ferb had given him, listening to the sounds of whirring power tools and tapping laptop keys as Ferb worked on making some sort of machine to help with his memory recovery. The shade of the tree he sat under granted him welcome respite from the sun, as the shadow of that big electromagnet grew smaller and smaller as Ferb repurposed the parts for his new invention. Ferb had told him he could ask any questions he wanted to, but Phineas preferred to leave him to his work and get it finished without any delay.
He had gone through the baby photos, the group photos with… what was her name again? Candy? No, wait, Candace—and the pictures of their parents. And yet, when he sneaked a peek at Ferb rolling his shirt sleeves up and wiping sweat from his brow, he still blushed.
It’ll go away once I get my memories back, he reasoned with himself. It was only because it was like he was looking at someone else’s life, not his own, that he was suffering from all these gross emotions. He just couldn’t see Ferb as a brother because he didn’t feel like he’d grown up with him. As soon as I get my memories back, I’ll go back to normal. Memory loss probably just has some weird… “falling in love with the first person you see” kind of side-effect. Yeah. That sounds like a thing that is totally plausible.
A creature rounded the tree, tottering up to Phineas. It had teal fur, a duck bill, a beaver tail and a wide-eyed stare.
“Oh. Hello. You’re a platypus.” He’d seen their pet in the photos, but it was still surprising in person.
It almost looked sad for a second, but Phineas must have been imagining it. It pushed its head against his hand, and Phineas laughed a little and patted it, thankful for the moment of distraction from his incestuous dilemma.
The platypus trotted away out of sight, apparently satisfied, as Ferb called out to Phineas, “Okay, I think we can give this a go.”
Phineas put the photo album down and made his way to the new fixture in the backyard, a small ray gun connected to the laptop Ferb had been typing away on. “Woah. How does it work?” he asked.
“It’ll stimulate the nerve endings in your prefrontal cortex, hippocampus and cerebral cortex. Hopefully, that’ll be enough to reactivate the memories you’ve lost.”
“Hit me, dude,” Phineas said, wanting to get back to “Situation Normal” as fast as possible.
Ferb nodded, checked a couple of things on his laptop, then pressed enter. The device let loose a wavy energy ray that washed over Phineas.
It gave him tingly sensations in his head, and he seemed more able to pay attention to the tiniest details in this moment and commit them to his mind—the smell of steel, the feel of the grass under his sneakers, the sunlight bearing down on him. He didn’t get any flashes of past memories, though, and Phineas worried that the machine wasn’t going to work.
Then, he got hit with another sensation: a warmth spreading from his chest outwards, a white splash across his vision, just the same as he had experienced when he lost his memories in the first place.
The white light started to fill with colours and images. Everything flooded back to him, and Phineas Flynn felt complete again.
Perry ducked back behind the tree, pointing the ray gun up to the air with his finger off the trigger. With Phineas’s back to him and Ferb looking at his laptop, he figured neither of them would have seen the extra beam.
As it turned out, the OWCA had crafted their own mini-version of the Amnesia-Inator for their organisational purposes. Monogram and Carl, having been monitoring the situation, knew that Phineas had been affected and knew exactly what Perry needed when he got back to his lair. With that, they wasted no time in sending him on his way again. He paused, hoping that everything had gone according to plan without them suspecting a thing.
“Did it—” he heard Ferb begin to say, before Phineas interrupted with a joyous, “It worked! It worked! I’m back, Ferb-meister!”
Perry sighed with relief. He discreetly dropped the gun in the nearest lair-tunnel and got back on all fours, then waddled out and smiled at the picture of his boys laughing and hugging each other. Phineas had his arms tight around Ferb with his head in the crook of his neck.
After his laughter faded, Phineas bit his lip, tension in his face, a private expression Ferb couldn’t see. However, when he looked up, he broke into a big smile again.
“Perry!” he cried, running over and scooping him up into his arms. “There you are!”
Perry chattered and tilted his head up for scritches, which Phineas happily gave him. Whatever anxiety he seemed to have was apparently forgotten for the moment as they played together in the backyard, rolling around and getting grass stains on their clothes.
“How was your day, boys?” his mom asked when she got home.
“Oh, unforgettable,” Phineas replied.
“That’s wonderful, Phineas.”
He greeted his dad and Candace, too, but his mind was wandering to uncomfortable places again, so he excused himself to his bedroom and flopped down onto his bed.
When he had regained his memories, he’d realised something. He had felt that way about Ferb for a long time. If anything, having his mind wiped had only made him less oblivious to the obvious. It stripped away all the layers and complications of the situation and left him with a disquieting truth: he like-liked his brother.
Right on cue, Ferb gently opened the door and came in, shutting it behind him.
Phineas’s hands tightened into fists and he said nothing.
“Don’t worry about what happened, Phineas. We can put that all behind us now,” he reassured, sitting on the other bed.
Phineas slowly straightened up, and, with a quiver in his voice, said, “Ferb?”
Ferb raised his eyebrows, his body language open as he leant back on his arms.
“I… I still feel the same way. About you. I know that’s—so wrong, and, and I know that you don’t—and that’s for the best! —but I just… I can’t hide it from you. And I needed to get it out in the open to move on,” Phineas admitted, shaking his head hopelessly.
There was a long moment of quiet. Phineas stared at his lap, unwilling to make any movement.
Then: “You have no idea how much I wanted to keep kissing you,” Ferb uttered, his voice low and smooth.
Heat flared in Phineas’s gut. He met Ferb’s eyes with shock and excitement, his cheeks probably as red as his hair.
“I would never take advantage of you like that, of course. But…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “If I hadn’t thought it was only because of the memory loss, I—I wouldn’t have been able to hold back.”
“So… if I kissed you now…?”
Ferb blinked once, twice, thrice, as he computed those words. After taking his time, he met Phineas’s gaze with a small upturn in his lips.
Phineas leaped across the space between them and crashed into Ferb, knocking him onto his back and making them both bounce a little on top of the mattress. Ferb caught him and kept his arms snug around Phineas as they chuckled and created a bit of breathing room.
He knew he had made an implicit promise, but he wanted to know more, first. And maybe tease Ferb in the process. “How long have you felt like this?” Phineas asked, cupping Ferb’s cheek. His stepbrother avoided his eyes, and Phineas concluded, “A while, huh? Can’t believe I never noticed it before.”
Ferb gave him an incredulous look.
“What? I’m great at noticing things. It’s just because I would have never thought you could get over the whole… you know… incest thing,” he said, muttering the last bit under his breath.
Ferb got caught out on an inhale, his cheeks turning the slightest bit pinker.
“Oh, my god!” Phineas said, excited but hushed, with a shove against Ferb’s shoulder. “You’re into the incest thing! The taboo just makes it sweeter, huh, bro?”
Phineas laughed as Ferb wrestled him and flipped their positions, showing his playful dominance. Ferb got him across the length of the bed, the back of Phineas’s head softly hitting a pillow. He felt so elated, as high in this moment as he had been low before, when his mind was awash with doubt and disgust and darkness. All he had needed was Ferb, bringing back his memory, comfort, and self-confidence, one after another.
His body was warm against Phineas’s. They had been as close as this before, many times, but it was electrifying now with this new context.
Now that Phineas knew Ferb wouldn’t hold back.
He surged up and caught Ferb’s lips with his own, and Ferb let out a pleased noise and kissed him in earnest. Bringing them both back down onto the bed, Ferb coaxed his brother’s lips open, just a hint of tongue in his mouth.
This feels so good, Phineas thought hazily. My own make-out partner living right here with me. At least there are some benefits to keeping it in the family.
Phineas ran his hands through Ferb’s hair, then down to grip a wiry bicep. He did his best to match Ferb’s technique, pulling his brother’s bottom lip between his own, releasing and repeating. This was all so new to Phineas, but with Ferb, it was like he already understood the rhythm and could meet him where he was. He was giving him all of his careful attention, finding the things that made Phineas gasp or grip or groan. Just like when they were building together, Ferb knew what he wanted before he did.
It was one of the things that his memory loss proved beyond a shadow of a doubt: Phineas would always feel a connection to Ferb, no matter what the circumstances.
As Ferb pressed a kiss into Phineas’s neck, they heard their mother say, “Boys, can you come down and help with the laundry?”
Ferb pulled away, his pupils dilated and his lips a little swollen.
Phineas neatened up his dishevelled hair and said, “Well, this is going to be weird.”
“Just another entry in a long list of strange adventures,” Ferb reasoned.
“Yeah, what’s an illicit, secret relationship on top of all the other impossibilities we deal with on a day-to-day basis?”
Ferb gave him a gentle smile that said, We’ll keep things light for now and talk about them properly later. When we have the time and the privacy.
“Alright. Let’s go help mom. Then, we’re totally getting back to this bromance, ‘kay?”
He nodded and took Phineas’s hand, leading him off of the bed and dropping it before they opened the door.
Well, if anyone ever found out, I suppose we could make our own amnesia machine, Phineas thought to himself. He furrowed his brows and then thought, Nah, forget that.