When the boys were fourteen, they had been unceremoniously kicked out of the garage by their father, who adored their inventions but had some creations of his own to make. They were well used to making things in the back yard, but it occurred to them on that particular day that they should have a workplace of their own for the times when the outdoors just wasn't practical. That became their project for the day - building a shed.

Their parents liked it, and Candace admitted that it would make her life easier if some of their insane inventions were just kept from view. The shed was theirs and theirs alone, and it found much use in the following summers as they went about seizing the day with gadgets and gizmos of all kinds.

Five years went by before it underwent the makeover.

Phineas hated to erase all those old memories by tampering with the faithful structure, but in his eyes it was the only possible option. He needed something that wouldn't vanish in a day. Something that would shield him from the prying eyes of the world around him. Something... familiar. The garage was completely out of the question and he was more than a little reluctant to venture beyond the house for this particular project.

Everyone saw him working on the shed. He didn't exactly go to any extreme lengths to hide it.

From the windows of the house, his family watched him replace the roof and reinforce the door and cart loads and loads of scrap metal and machinery inside. They saw it as a coping mechanism, a distraction so that the overwhelming pain wouldn't consume his mind. After all, Phineas Flynn was quite a resourceful young man; wouldn't that be just the sort of thing he'd do?

Isabella and Baljeet and Buford came over from time to time, and they would watch without comment as he tinkered with high-voltage power sources and tested the strength of different components and metals. They thought he may have already lost his mind. They were the ones who would notice... they were his best friends, the ones who knew so much about him from the years spent at his side. They saw the dazed look about him and the frantic way in which he went about his business. They figured he was going to do something drastic, and perhaps a bit sad.

If only they knew.

It was the middle of a frigid and dark October. The leaves of the great oak tree had turned all shades of gold and red, and when they fell, some landed on the roof of the shed and gathered at the edges. The wind and rain could remove some, but there were always a few that remained, mere tinges of fire and blood atop the dreary structure.

The windows were boarded up with wood that had been painted black. The door was secured with multiple locks and a few hidden security measures. The walls were soundproofed.

Sometimes, Linda and Lawrence and Candace were lucky enough to spot him in the kitchen, usually snatching up some food before retreating back to his shed. He didn't respond to any inquiries or requests. Sometimes he leaned over to pet a very worried Perry, but that was about it when it came to his interactions.

His three friends weren't so lucky - they never saw him, mostly on account of the "STAY OUT" sign he'd taped to the gate (complete with a condescending smiley face at the bottom). He didn't want their company, and they worried too much about his mental state to try and contact him regardless. Besides, they still had school; their educations couldn't be put on hold like his.

He was never absent from anyone's mind. There were hushed whispers of high hopes, optimistic thoughts that perhaps his isolation would lead to some sort of stability. Phineas Flynn wasn't fantastic at dealing with emotions by himself... but maybe this was the best that could be done. Maybe he just needed some time alone.

In the months that would follow, they would regret this lax approach to his reclusive habits. They would berate themselves for not insisting upon keeping him close and safe and away from the darkest reaches of his psyche. In hindsight, they would see every mistake. And isn't that how it always goes?

Inside that shed, under the hanging wires and machinery, Phineas was grateful for all of these things. They were doing what was right, leaving him to his own devices and allowing him to do what had to be done. In the past, he had always been the leader, the thinker; what was different now? Nothing! He was doing what he always did and twisting the world to his satisfaction. As the days went by, as the nights grew longer, as his project came along further and further, his spirits soared to the heavens. Everything was turning out just as he wanted it to.

Everything... would be okay.

Sleepless nights and busy days passed by indiscriminately. At times, Phineas would catch his own scent underneath the overpowering stench of decay, and he had the decency to abandon his work for an hour or so to give himself a thorough shower. He ate when his stomach hurt, napped when his eyes closed of their own accord, and took breaks when his knees creaked and his hands throbbed. He was only aware of his own needs when his body began to scream at him. Until then, he worked... and worked... and worked.

And in the middle of October, as the leaves danced to the ground and decorated the roof, he finally put the finishing touches in place.

So much love went into those tiny details. The Phineas everyone knew, the Phineas who would do anything for his friends and family, was poured into those final screws and wires and paintworks. As he traced the metal rim of a carefully crafted socket with a tiny brush, he was smiling a gentle smile filled with adoration and affection and all the sweet emotions that made him so endearing.

In the end, that was why he did it - not because he was insane (and he definitely was), but because of that deep and never-ending love that had always been a part of his very core. He only wanted to do what he thought was best for himself... and his brother.

On the wall of the shed was a single switch which connected to all the machinery that had been constructed in the wake of the accident. After setting down his paintbrush and pushing aside his tools, Phineas reached over to this switch and flicked it into the ON position.

The small room came to life immediately. Clicks and whirs and buzzes filled the air and dissipated into the sound-proofed walls as lights flashed on from every corner. The very earth thrummed in tune with Phineas's erratic heartbeat.

The paint on the metal socket went from silver to blue as the orb it held came to life in a sudden flash of light.

Phineas only blinked, his face blank as he regarded the chaos before him. The mechanical parts were coming to life... but it was the organics he feared for. The remaining eye was still, the eyelids firmly closed, lashes intertwined and stuck together with the remnants of the preserving gel.

Yet... was that a flutter he saw? A twitch, perhaps?

Phineas leaned forward, his breath catching in his throat as he studied the face he had slaved over for weeks.

Yes. That was definitely a moving eye, and with it came parting lips and a jerking chest, a strangled attempt to breathe that ultimately succeeded. Fingers jerked, now with actual thought behind their movement, and after a few tense seconds they curled into a limp fist.

And the remaining eye opened.

For a moment, it stared upwards at the ceiling, to the suspended life support and glimmering florescent lights. Then it slowly rolled to the side, blurry and glazed... blinked... and focused.

"...Phineas...?"

A grin spread across Phineas's tired face, and he reached forward, his fingers ghosting over his brother's cold cheek.

"Welcome back, Ferb."