Siblings' Quest |Phineas and Ferb Story|

Part Three: Got a Secret, Can They Keep It?

Candace glanced over at the staircase a couple times, continuously thinking her stepbrother was coming down. She and Phineas were both baffled by his behavior an hour ago, and though they wanted to confront him, they were preoccupied with their 'research'. Candace was sitting on the couch, looking through the yearbooks while Phineas was on the floor with his laptop.

"I can't believe how common the last name Flynn is." She sighed, "I mean, seriously, 20 Flynns graduated Danville University the same year?!" She tossed the yearbook aside and rubbed her forehead frustratedly. She didn't think it would've been this difficult finding her father.

Phineas scrolled through endless websites with a vacant expression. "Could've been worse. Could've been a Smith." He said. After a while, he sat up a bit and turned to his sister, "Do you think maybe we're not having any luck because Mom doesn't want us finding out about Dad?"

"What do you mean?" She asked.

The redhead looked aside, "Well, these yearbooks were easy to find. If our dad was really in them, you think she would've hid them better with the way she acted earlier."

Candace stared at the yearbooks for a moment, then slapped herself in realization. "Of course. Mom never said it was at the college!" She exclaimed, "She just said she met Dad 'cause of her noisy apartment neighbors! This whole fucking time I thought she meant— ugh, this is pointless."

Phineas shook his head and sat on the couch next to her. "Oh, don't say that, sis. We'll still find him...somehow." He said with a sigh, "We just need to keep searching, without any idea of what he looks like or even what his first name is."

She looked at the front door, tapping her fingers on her knee. "Hey, what time did Mom day she'd be home?"

"I dunno." He shrugged, "Later this afternoon, I guess. Why?"

Candace remained silent, only shaking her head in response to his question. In all honesty, the last thing she needed was her mother to get in the way. She loved her mom, but she didn't trust her. With the topic of her biological father, anyway.

Instead of answering, she spoke up in reminiscence, "I remember one of the last times I ever saw Dad."
Phineas tilted his head curiously as she went on, "He came home from work one day, saying he had a surprise for me. Next thing I knew, he gave me one of the most precious things I own."

"Your Mr. Miggins teddy bear?" He asked.

She chuckled, "Close, but no, I've had that since I was born. He gave me my Ducky Momo plushie."

Phineas stared solemnly at her. He knew that Ducky Momo was her entire childhood, and even in adulthood, she held onto all the merchandise—especially the plush doll. No wonder she was so attached to it. It was the last memory she had of her father.

Now there was nothing more Phineas wanted than to find out who he was.

"He sounds great." He smiled softly, "I wish I could've met him."

"Me too. You would've loved him." She said, smiling at her brother, "He would be so proud of you."

Ferb was just about to take a step down the stairs, but ultimately decided against it, figuring it was just better to stay in his room for a while. He quietly walked down the hallway into the shared bedroom and sat on his bed. Honestly, they're wasting their time. Their father could be anyone, anywhere. If he really cared about them, he would've shown up a long time ago. He thought, pulling out a box from under the bed.

Inside the little cardboard box was a stack of photos, papers, little crafts, and a blankie. Sighing, he rummaged through the items, pulling out one specific photo that caught his eye. He examined it with sad eyes.

The picture was a man and woman, holding their newborn baby in their arms. The man was tall, with brown hair and glasses on his big nose. The woman, wearing a ripped white gown, had long green hair, crooked teeth, and baggy eyes. The baby, with only a few green hairs atop his head, had his father's nose and his mother's big blue eyes.

Of all the pictures in the box, Ferb questioned why he even bothered keeping this one. It meant nothing to him now. It was old, dusty, forgotten by everyone. By the woman, by the man. By everyone.

Except the baby.