Plot:

Poor Cornelius, what would you do when you know the future but not how to place the pieces in order? More importantly what do you do when a critical piece dances just out of reach. Rich and Fluffy Disney filled goodness with extra fluff on the side.

Authors Note:

Ok, I don't usually do music fictions, (ok, I never do song-fics,) but this was just so cute, and after working my ass off on the dark new zutara series, I just needed something fun and uplifting to piddle around with and low and behold, here it is, just a simple doodle in words. Well...it was intended to be a simple doodle in words. I think once you pass the 8,000 word mark however it's hard to justify calling it 'simple.' (a one shot in three chapters, imagine that)

But first, a few disclaimers. I, as you might well suspect, own nothing. All characters, locations, and events referenced in this work are all property of both the original artist and author William Joyce as well as Walt Disney Studio. Also, as I always do, I would like to apologies for any grievances one might have towards my spelling and grammar. I'm dyslexic, I do what I can, but I can guarantee in a story this long, there are going to be mistakes I don't catch and words I can't spell.

Finally, I feel an additional apology is in order for this particular work. To any true physicists, science buffs, or other intellectually inclined reader who finds flaw in my 'scientific reasoning'…I do apologies. I just starting making up physics as I go so, please bear with me on it. I'm an artist, not a genius.

Inspired by Artificus' MTR video to Dr. Horrible Sing Along. (find it on youtube, its well worth it!)

Song: Laundry day (Freeze Ray)

Please enjoy…

Stop the World

Laundry day, see you there
Under-things tumbling.
Want to say 'love your hair',
Here I go…
Mumbling.

With my freeze ray I will stop… the world.
With my freeze ray I will find the time,
to find the words to…

Cornelius Robinson let out a muffled yelp from behind his welding mask as the business end of his industrial soldering gun danced dangerously close to his opposite hand. Dropping the tool on impulse he staggered back, cursing all the while. Ripping off the mask and glove from his injured hand he stuck the burned digit in his mouth in a half hearted attempt to sooth the pain. Nineteen years old and he was making mistakes like an amateur in shop class. Grumbling, Cornelius through the welders mask on the floor before he stormed over to his desk. Pulling the center most drawer open he unceremoniously rummaged through in search of the first aid kit. It was the third time he had pulled the small tin box out that day.

In a matter of seconds he had the burn disinfected, wrapped, and was simply staring at his handy work with a stale glare. Well…he thought bitterly, examining the finger from all angles. Now I have one to match the cut on my elbow and the bump on my forehead. How pathetic.
for what had to be the hundredth time that afternoon he let his gaze wonder from his finger to the small self made digital clock that rested at the edge of the desk. It wasn't exactly the most beautiful looking of digital alarms, but it was just too hard to find a good clock that could keep time to within an accurate attosecond. After months of fruitless searching he had finally given up and built one of his own out of frustration.

It read (for all intents and purposes) 6:40.

Throwing himself back in the chair Cornelius sighed before pushing his glasses up, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the forefinger and thumb of his good hand. He could not focus, could not even keep his mind on the project at hand, it was infuriating…and all because of his stupid mouth…

"Cornelius?"

"Over here Mom…"

Replacing his glasses once more the teen inventor spun about in his chair in time to see Lucille Robinson poke her head around the armature of what he hoped would one day be a miniature hydron-collider.
"Cornelius, honey? Are you alright? I heard yelling."

Despite his foul mood Cornelius could not help but crack a smile at his mothers worried hovering. It didn't matter if he stubbed his toe or severed a limb, his mother was always there with a sweet word and all the attention he would ever need. It was as though she had a sixth sense when it came to his health. "I'm fine mom, promise," he soothed, showing off his bandaged left hand. "…just got a little cocky with the soldering gun."

"Oh…well, alright then, but you be careful. I was just going to run a few errands, do you need anything?"

"No, I think I'm all set. I'm just about finished recalibrating the ion beam, and once I enlarge the radial target trajectory and adjustment the time sequence I should have the ray ready for the symposium in a matter of days."

"Oh how exciting!" Lucille applauded in her rapid, almost child like way as she hovered over him, examining the numerous large blueprints laid out upon his work space. The one nice thing about having parents versed in science and theoretical mathematics was he never had to stop and explain anything like he did for everyone else, the facts were always enough.

Brushing a few pencil shavings off a diagram of his latest invention Lucille glanced back to her son beaming with pride. "You know your father has been calling just about every hour on the hour to ask me if you've fired the freeze ray up yet. He's convinced the mathematics are tight this time."

Cornelius chuckled, though he could not suppress the pang of guilt that played along side his pride in Buds continued interest. After all the notion of the freeze ray was really his fathers idea, beginning with a series of mathematical computations he had jotted down in the margins of an anthology of Max Planck's early essays on quantum physics. Cornelius had stumbled upon it in one of his late night reading sessions, the messy scribbled sequence of numbers, letters, and Greek symbols wedged neatly next to a paragraph on blackbody radiation. He had read over it, thought over it, obsessed over it, re-produced it, recalibrated it, obsessed some more over it, and by dawn had presented to his father a tentative hypothesis for a working ionized freeze ray. Bud had all but fallen over in his shock and excitement.
For the past four months the two had been inseparable as they had fought, struggled and bled over a walls worth of chalkboards littered with calculations, trying to bring the world of theory into a world of practicalities. It was almost painful to pull themselves away when called upon by work, social obligations, or even basic human needs. More then once Lucille had been forced to drag the pair of them out by their ears to keep them from neglecting their respective choirs, (And more then once they had returned to find a few new corrections and suggestions written in on the board in her perfect block-letter script).

Now the math was all but perfect, the device all but finished, and Bud had been called away to lecture in Germany on the practical implications of fractal geometry, much to the chagrin of both father and son. Somehow it just didn't feel right to be finishing such an epic breakthrough without his father there to share in the excitement of it all. In all honesty Cornelius probably wouldn't even be working on the thing now if he had not been required by the Scientific Board of Research to present a working model by weeks end.

His mother must have read something of his inner turmoil on his face for her hand was suddenly on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "You know he's very proud of you Cornelius," her voice and smile warm and soft. "Just keep moving forward."

Snorting, Cornelius favored his mother with a sarcastic lopsided grin for throwing his own words back at him. But of coarse, she was right; there was nothing else for it.

"Thanks mom."

He crinkled his nose in mock irritation as she placed a quick kiss on her sons' temple before making a b-line to the lab door. "Oh, and Cornelius?"

"Yha?"

"I'm expecting a few more packages from InventCo with those new graduated cylinders." She stressed the one word as though for emphasis and Cornelius could not help but notice. He visibly cringed. "If you're still here would you mind signing for it when they come to drop it off? They said it would be sometime around seven."

Cornelius tried a sheepish smile, remembering the reason why his mother no longer had any graduated cylinders in the first place, (though in his defense, it's not as though anyone could have predicted his condensed acid compound would eat through that much glass that quickly.)

"Sure thing Mom."

There was another flurry of kisses and goodbyes before Lucille did in fact depart, leaving the room feeling a bit hollow after such an extravagant display of energy his mother always seemed to exhume. Shaking his head Cornelius risked another glance at the bizarre little digital clock.

6:43

Slowly, inevitably, his eyes roamed over the rest of the desk, moving from the strange digital device to look about the other odds and ends that decorated his work space. His blue prints and pages of mathematics, letter postmarked from around the world from other scientists he had been seeking a second opinion from and vise versa. On the corner of his desk sat a rather out of place bowl of arranged fruit, the organic mater serving as a safe test subject for his freeze ray (though all he had managed to do thus far was purée two bananas, an orange and several kiwi with the ionized beam). Above the desk on a large bulletin board hung all three of his diplomas including his undergraduate, graduate and masters degrees. About them were a handful of various metals, awards and honors he had received as well as a spattering of newspaper clippings and articles from various sources including two from the PNAS and one from the New York Times.

His gaze stalled finally as it passed over a rather well weathered scrap of newsprint that had been the first he had ever stuck to this makeshift wall. The title read 'Local Wiz-kid Mapping Memories and Making History' in fine bold print with a large picture set just below the headline. Cornelius himself stood prominently in the photo, all of 12 years old and beaming next to his first and most memorable invention to date. His unruly blond hair was hidden beneath a strange helmet like device as he stood evidently explaining the even stranger little box about his neck and the shimmering screen at his side. Behind him in the photograph one could just make out the forms of Bud and Lucille as they beamed down at the boy that would one day become there only son. All around him stood students and teachers all trying to catch a glimpse of the miraculous, revolutionary device.

Cornelius chewed his lower lip as he contemplated the little image. More specifically, as he contemplated the barely visible little pigtailed girl that looked out from the very corner of the picture, a small amphibian clutched in her arms as she watched the young inventor explain his strange new device.

Franny…

…Tell you how, how you make
Make me feel, what's the phrase…

It was funny on some level; out of all the corny, clichéd, over used romantic lines, he was the one person on this planet, hell, if not the history of the human race that could say he had truly loved the dark haired girl before ever having met her, and not merely in any metaphoric or poetic sense. Thanks to a glitch in the space-time continuum (and a rather impulsive, energetic son-to-be), Cornelius had had a chance to travel through the restrictions of time, to see the potential that was his future and to meet the woman that would one day become his 'everything'. Of course at age twelve, the romantic component that comprised his potential life was the farthest thing from his mind; and still, even at twelve there had been something about the strange dark hair woman, the way she smiled, the way her eyes laughed as though at some silent joke only she could hear…it made him feel…different.

Like a fool,
Kind of sick
Special need,
Anyways…

Seven years had past since his adventure through the fourth dimension of time and ever since he had walked a rather fine line. How do you go on with your life when you know the end but not the means? It was as though he had been instructed to a destination while being presented with a map devoid of direction. How did you know when you were doing it right? How did you know when you were getting it wrong? What if you were second guessing yourself? What if you didn't pay close enough attention? It was a mental paradox of sorts and thus far he had been very, very careful to step lightly, watching each move and making the best of what he could, when he could. To his surprise and silent delight almost everything seemed to be playing along just wonderfully, all the pieces falling together in a flawless path…everything except one rather crucial piece.

Franny

With an irritated hiss the inventor spun about in his chair to avoid looking at the little yellowed image. It just wasn't fair. He had done all the calculations, he had thought all his decisions through…what else was he supposed to do? It's not as though he hadn't spoken with the girl when they were younger, but they were never more then casual encounters and the like. Besides it had never felt right. He always assumed, like everything else in his life, it would happen when it was supposed to happen, no need to push the point and risk upsetting the delicate balance of the space time continuum. And with collage calling and a scholarship all but assured, he figured he had other more urgent things to attend to. Besides he had all the time in the world…right?

Two years in undergrad, Two and a half years in grad school (the extra six months dedicated to an unneeded but much sought after internship with CERN and a chance to work with the Large Hadron Collider in its first months of operation), and three doctoral programs completed in record time, Cornelius had finished off his advanced academic career within six short years and with countless job offers, scholastic opportunities, and pending grants at that. Nineteen years old, not even old enough to drink (well, legally at any rate) and he was practically living the life of someone three or four times his age. In the grand scheme of things he knew it was only a few short years, but it felt as though a lifetime had passed when he finally returned to his home town and his 'old' life.

The thing was, it hadn't even been the 'going away' that created all the problems, but rather what he had come home to that had thrown his whole understanding of his future into disarray. When he had left, Franny had been little more then a bouncing ball of youthful pigtailed energy, bright playful smile hidden temporarily behind a wiry line of braces. Six years later and that bright eyed, awkward little duckling was now a graceful, flawless swan.

His first glance at this new 'swan' came while leaving the public library a few short months ago, cradling a large stack of research volumes pressed against his chest. He had just finished depleting the library rather scanty collection on the mathematics of quantum field theory and was just pushing his way out the front door when a gaggle of giggling girls across the street caught his eye. And there she was…simple as anything. He had all but tripped over himself when he had caught site of her, surrounded by the pack of teen girls, shopping bags all in hand.

She was…well she was perfect, that's all there was to it. In place of pigtails she now wore her hair in a sleek shoulder length ponytail, her family's signature cowlick curl falling lightly over her forehead. No more freckles and no more braces, only pail skin and perfect white smile. Her features had lost their soft childish line and for a heartbeat he had been sure he was looking at the woman he had met that day all those years ago in the house that would one day be his home.

Hell, he felt like he did that day. Every time he caught sight of her (and in such a small town it was hard not too). His mouth would go dry, his chest ached, and for some reason he though he might burst into flame on the spot. It was embarrassing, exhilarating and an all together inexplicable sensation.

He would catch sight of her out on the street with friends, in the line to the movies with some boy or another, and more then once berried beneath a stack of books at the public library with titles ranging from 'Music Through the Ages' to 'Advanced Genetics for the Inquiring Mind'

Needless to say he did not once approach her. Rather he would make quite the spectacle of himself trying to stay out of site; diving behind lampposts and mailboxes, slinking behind foliage or darting down adjacent isle of books. There he would hide, clammy hands pulling nervously on his sleeves, straightening his glasses, or simply holding his breath. In his head he would compose a plethora of possible conversation openers, each more pathetic then the last. What in gods name was he expected to say. 'Hi, I know your beautiful, popular, and far out of my league, but trust me when I say I've been to the future and we really are happy together…'

Groaning he sunk down farther into the chair, almost wishing he could just sink into oblivion. What a mess he had made of the whole affair. If only he had said something years ago when he had the chance, when he had had the courage and the where for all too just ask her out. And, to top it all off the past two weeks had only seen the problem escalate from bad to worse.

It had been Bud's idea and, at the time, it had seemed like such the perfect solution. Take some time off, finish up his research grant and proposal on the freeze ray and hey, while home why not through in a resume at some of the local high schools as a substitute in an attempt to pay off some of his remaining student loans. Within a week he had gotten the call in from Joyce Williams High claming that one of the faculty members had indeed fallen ill and they would be in need of a substitute science instructor for the next week or two. Cornelius had, of course jumped at the opportunity. Had he but known what he was getting himself into he probably would have thought twice of the whole affair.

The moment he walked into the school he knew there was going to be trouble. The strange side long glances, the snickering whispered comments, the hushed quiet that followed him wherever he went. By now Cornelius was quite used to being treated differently by those around him. He often found they were more tentative, reacting to his mixture of age and scholastic achievement in numerous strange, all be it subtle ways. Of coarse most of the people he associated with were adults and to be sure there was nothing subtle about the looks and reactions he got from those closer to him in age.
It didn't matter how many degrees he had, the students still saw him as little more then a glorified hall monitor.

The classroom became a battle field and Cornelius found himself the very first day having to struggle to be heard over students who found it much more becoming to spend there first period talking about hair styles, fashion news, and celebrity blunders then the four veritable states of matter and the interactive properties of plasma. By the time the bell rang and his first period class was dismissed Cornelius was already making plans to speak with the administrative staff and explain how this was a huge mistake on his part.

Homeroom came next.

His homeroom charge was only just beginning to file into the room when a very familiar, very warm laugh sent his heart into his throat and his stomach into his shoes. Cornelius glanced up from his desk in time to see non other then Franny Framagucci waltz into the classroom, a team of five other girls at her side, all giggling and bantering right along with her. The pack made there way immediately to the back corner of the room, their conversation never seeming to miss a beat.

Cornelius had felt light headed. It took every ounce of mental composure to fight the urge to duck under the desk. It was bad enough that he risk running into her on the streets…now this? Thinking fast he began digging through the contents of the desk, finding a stack of unassigned paperwork and barring himself in it as though it were the most fascinating thing he had ever laid eyes on (even if he had been reading it upside down). The second bell rang, the announcements came on. The inventor heard none of it. Rather he spent the time trying to remember how to properly breathe. By the time the announcements ended his heart beat had once again dropped to a respectable, though by no means regular flutter. Feigning a casual demeanor as best he could Cornelius risked a quick glance over the corner of the incomplete work sheets.

She was staring straight at him.

For the first time since he had returned home Cornelius looked directly into those warm chocolate colored eyes. His pulsed had raced, his stomach knotted and he could not seem for the life of him to remember how to breathe.

An eternity passed, then another, and still all he could see were those same, perfect, rich brown eyes…

The bell finally rang, breaking the spell. Cornelius had been the first from the room, almost sprinting down the hallways, around the corner, and into the administrative offices. What ensued was a lengthy twenty minuet argument in which he pleaded and begged with the principle to seek out another substitute, he had had enough.
But the administration wouldn't have it. He had already signed his contract and regardless there was no one to fill his shoes. He would just have to grin and bear it…all of it, and pray that he could avoid those eyes for the eight horrifying and insufferable minuets they were in his room.

…and avoid them he did, and quite well to his credit. Day after day he had found a little bit of this or that to occupy his attention each homeroom period, busying himself correcting this assignment or writing that grade review while strategically avoiding scanning the room or otherwise interacting with any and all the student body that trudged through his homeroom each school morning.

His luck was not to last.

It was Friday and the second bell had only just rung. Out of the corner of his eye Cornelius watched as the homeroom stragglers filed in. For his part Cornelius was, as he did every morning, almost completely focused on correcting the stack of homework assignments collected the previous day, designating only a quarter of his attention to the chattering student body before him. He had struck an almost unspoken agreement with the twenty or so students that made up his eight minuets of daily homeroom hell. As long as they stayed quiet, he let them do just about anything they damn well please (in the realm of common academic decency of coarse), and for the most part they were more then willing to comply. As far as he was concerned, anything that kept his attention focused and well away from those back six chairs and the occasional glance he received from one student in particular was fine by him.

"You should ask Dr. Robinson…" a squeaky, somewhat pretentious sounding voice proclaimed a bit too loudly, effectively breaking into his calculations and corrections. The honey sweet, sand paper voice seemed to make a point of placing a great deal of unneeded emphasis on his respective title. "He like, totally knows everything…"
Cornelius had to make a mental effort not to shutter at the sound of that all too familiar tone. Betty Thomson had to be the most popular, 'adorable', and all around irritating little snob he had ever had the misfortune to teach. She was blond, tall, slightly exotic, and had (in his humble opinion) an I.Q that might on its best day rival any common lab rat…after a lobotomy. She was always there with a snide remark and a barley veiled reminder that he was still little more then a teen himself, despite his acclaimed status.
"Is there something you need Miss. Thomson…" He had asked in a calm monotone, not bothering to even look up from the stack of papers that sat in front of him. He severely hoped the answer was no.
There was a short half snort, half exasperated sigh only a girl like Betty could properly execute before; "ah, no…duh…"
Irritated, Cornelius finally tore his attention from his papers, prepared to favor the obnoxious blond with his best authoritative cold stare…and had fond himself staring instead into a beautiful pair of intoxicating chocolate brown eyes.

Franny smiled sheepishly back at him in an almost apologetic manner as Betty rolled her own contact colored eyes in impatience. "Franny said she been having trouble with some science project and stuff, so I told her she should like, totally ask you for help and stuff."
"I…um…" Cornelius had floundered wildly, but for the life of him he could not compose one proper thought, not a single cohesive sentence. He watched as Franny bit her lip, looking (if possible) even more apologetic then before. "I know you must have a lot on you're plate right not Mister…er, Doctor Robinson." She corrected herself with a small smile. "But I could really use some help with this project, and with Mr. Birmingham being out ill."

Immediately Cornelius had seen his out and he took it. "Well that just it Miss. Framagucci, I'm not sure it would be academically appropriate for me to offer assistance on an assignment created by another teacher. He might see my help as a form of undermining his own…"
He trailed off slowly as he had watched her face fall and with it he felt his own heart sink. "…but I suppose I could look over what research you have done and offer what advice I may, if you were to stop by my place during tutoring hours on Saturday…"

The words were out of his mouth before he had even time to concoct the sentence. Even as he heard them on his lips felt his stomach lurch in horror. What the hell had he just said?
From behind Fran, three girls, lead inevitably by Betty, offered a quite but all too suggestive whoop that had the blond inventor turning pink at the ears. Of coarse, the fact that he offered privet tutoring on weekends was nothing new, and many of both the most inclined and least successful students had indeed taken advantage of the offer (the later usually under a great deal of parental coercion). Still in this context he could not help but feel the three were not all that far off…

Franny was a bit more subtle in her embarrassment, her face flushing in a rather flattering manner as she turned and offer the three a very sour look. Before anything else could be said however there came the sharp unmistakable ring marking the end of the homeroom session. As the rooms occupants trudged towards the door some laughing, other simply conversing, thinking, reading, or prying that there next period instructor would forget that they had a paper due that day; Franny had turned back to him with a grateful smile and a quick nod. "Sounds good, 5:30 then?"
Before he could protest, or better still stammer out a viable excuse she was gone. Cornelius had been left to stair helplessly at the desk, his body and mind completely numb. Even as his next class began to push passed, each taking there respective seats there was only one thought that rolled through his mind, seven words that seemed to engulf and overtake every ounce of his being.

'Cornelius, what the hell have you done?'

6:55

The young inventor tore his eyes from the clock, tipping his head back so that he might stare straight up and out passed the high domed glass ceiling of his study, past the few trees that clustered in to his peripheral vision and out into the slowly creeping dusk that was only just beginning to color the sky a more substantial blue.
She was late…she probably wasn't coming.

He didn't know how to feel about that. On the one hand he knew he should be grateful, having dodged such a looming built without a single serious physiological scar to show for it, but on the other…on the other he had this sinking feeling that something was supposed to happen, that indeed time was weighing heavily on these few short hours as though the rest of his life hinged critically on whatever events might play out on this very hypothetical stage.

It didn't matter, he told himself in a non to convincing manner. She probably didn't even need the help, and had agreed to come simply to save him the embarrassment of that near break down he had had in the classroom. She was probably just sitting at home having completely forgotten, or perhaps giggling away on the phone with that brat Betty Thomson over the perfect prank. He very much did not like the later scenario.

If only he knew what to do, if only he knew where to go from here. If only Wilbur were here! It was true the boy was technically his son, born to a woman he had yet to take on a single date, but whenever Wilbur popped in for one of his brief 'correctional visits' as he liked to call them, everything seemed to move along so smoothing. Wilbur just made everything work, even when they were in trouble, things always seemed to be moving, working, making sense. If Wilbur was here he would know what to do, if Wilbur were here he would know what should be said, how to act, everything.

But Wilbur wasn't here.

What if Wilbur was never here?

What if, through some small mistake Cornelius had already botched up in his future relationship with the young, raven haired beauty, that the two of them had never ended up together, and Wilbur, by proxy, would have never been born? What if things were already irreconcilably askew? What if there was no Wilbur to come back and warn him, what if…

The distant chime of the front door broke through his ever mounting list of hypothetical horrors, bringing him momentarily back to his senses. For a brief second his heart jumped into his throat before he recalled his mothers pending delivery he had sworn to sign for. Cornelius moaned, dreading even that little human interaction. The front door rang once more and he cursed begrudgingly as he pulled himself to his feet, pushing his erratic blond bangs from his face and shuffling towards the door. "I'm coming I'm coming…" he barked as the bell rang a third time, long wiry legs taking the steps from the lab two at a time. Around the corner, down the foyer and with a melancholic grown Cornelius through upon the front door…