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“Why do you look at him like that?”
You jump at the other Heinz’s sudden question. You’d been loitering around his office once again, staring at this dimension’s Perry, lost in thought. You hadn’t even realized you were doing it.
The cyborg never pays you any mind, of course, except for when he’s assigned to guard or escort you somewhere, and even then all you get is a professional disinterest. It’s… unsettling. This is your nemesis, someone who’s usually so energetic, so eager to right wrongs and fight his way out of any circumstance. To see him so still, so submissive, is… well. You’ve been thinking about it a lot.
But your double is staring at you, expression equally annoyed and curious. If you play it cool, he might drop it.
“Like what?” you ask, feigning nonchalance. The dirt under your fingernails is suddenly very interesting.
“Like he’s a ghost.”
You wince, and it would be too much to hope he doesn’t notice. He always does.
His mouth tugs down just a fraction, his eye narrows just a tad, but it goes a long way toward making him seem somehow more threatening. You wonder if you could learn to do that even as you shrink in on yourself.
“Do you have a problem with him?”
“What? No! I—”
“Do you think you could do better? Is that it?” he asks, jabbing a finger into your chest, and he’s in your personal space again, perfectly content to wear you down until he gets an answer out of you.
“Weeell…” Yes. Yes you could, but you’re not going to dare tell him so. That’s not the point anyway.
He ignores that, thankfully. His eye darts back and forth between the two of you before settling on Perryborg, standing sentry by the entrance of the room as usual. The general looks to his emperor then, finally tuning in to the conversation, and awaits an order. The other you simply waves him off and the cyborg nods, staring off into empty space once more. You wonder what he thinks when he does that, or if he thinks at all. The Perry from your dimension would probably be coming up with better defense strategies or something. He was always two steps ahead, always…
… You’re staring again.
And now your double is fixated on you, his frown slowly morphing into a grin that reminds you far too much of the village children you grew up with. You wring your hands, too nervous to move.
“Oh. Ohhh man, I see,” he finally says.
You open your mouth, a denial on the tip of your tongue. You’re not even sure what he’s thinking, but it seems like a good time for some denial anyway. Before you can even get out the first syllable, though, he winds an arm around your shoulders, almost companionably, and your mouth snaps shut.
“Ahh, Heinz,” he says, tone entirely too soft for the cruel slant of his lips. “You really are pathetic.”
“Hey—!”
“Oh, this is rich. I thought even you would have more sense than that.”
You shove out from under his arm and cross yours irritably. He’s laughing now, laughing at you, laughing at this code he seems to think he’s cracked. Enough is quite enough.
“Look, I don’t know what your problem is,” you say, voice rising with each word, “but you can’t just go around insulting me just because—”
“You love him, don’t you?”
There’s a beat of silence and you gape at him, brain stopped in its tracks. He takes a seat on his fancy, uncomfortable couch, and simply smiles up at you, obviously amused by your reaction. He pats the spot beside him and your feet move on autopilot until you’ve joined him.
“What?” You’re too shell-shocked to feel indignant. Your eyes dart to Perryborg across the room and however improbable it is, you hope he’s not listening in.
Your double only raises an eyebrow.
“That’s—don’t be ridiculous, I’ve known him for what, a week? And he just stands there most of the time, he may as well not even—”
“Not him. The other Perry, the one that came with you.”
“…Oh. Um.”
You don’t want to think about this. Not here, not in front of him.
It’s not as if you’ve never considered it, laying in bed awake on sleepless nights. Your relationship with Perry is hardly typical, after all, especially considering your occupations.
“Look, I’m not saying things aren’t a little weird between us, I mean, you fight a guy for years and it’s kind of hard for things not to get weird, you know? But it’s nothing like that. Really! He’s my nemesis, my sworn enemy. That’s it. Only that.”
Unbidden, memories from your traitorous brain are hurled at you—memories of going out to eat, setting up Vanessa’s birthday party, the incident with Peter. You think of his hands, smaller but much stronger than your own, and your fingers twist in the fabric of your lab coat, curling and uncurling methodically in time with your breaths.
“Only enemies,” you insist, though it sounds weak even by your standards.
From your left, you hear a quiet snort.
“He doesn’t care about you, you know.” He says it simply, as plainly as if he were telling you the sky is blue or the moon is made of stinky limburger.
You know that. Of course you know.
“He could,” you say.
“But he doesn’t. If the Perry from your dimension is anything like the one from here, all he cares about is his mission. That’s all he ever cares about. Trust me,” the other you says bitterly.
In the back of your mind, something almost audibly clicks into place. Your eyes widen as you examine his face, your face, and there’s something in the slightly distant look in his eyes you recognize.
“Did you love him?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.
His eye flashes to his silent guard before settling back on you, so quick you nearly miss it. Surprise gives way to a barely contained rage and for just a moment, your certain he’s going to punch you. It would hardly be the first time he’s decked you for saying something stupid. But the anger fades quickly, replaced by something colder, more unreadable. Somehow, that’s much worse.
“No,” he says without elaboration, and you know your face and voice well enough to spot a half-truth. For all his evil prowess and big talk, he’s not much of a liar.
“… Did you want to?”
There’s a tension in the air now, thick and more than a little uncomfortable. You wait for an answer, or at least a response—a shrug, a derisive laugh, anything, but one never comes. He stares you down, clearly debating, but in the end, decides you’re still not worthy of sharing in his secrets. How typical.
“Come on,” he says instead, and drags you up off the couch by your wrist. “Let’s check in with the Normbots.”
He leads you out of his office, his grip just slightly too tight to be comfortable. Neither of you acknowledge Perryborg as you pass him. He does not follow.
“You know,” he says conversationally as you make your way down the hall, “When we capture the other Perry, I think I’ll hand him over to you.”
“That’s… unusually generous,” you reply skeptically. “Why?”
“What, I’m not allowed to do something nice? Consider it a gift, Heinz. Besides,” he says with a chilly smile, “you obviously want him more than I do. Seems only fitting for you to have a Perryborg of your own.”