Archive of Our Own

Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz has been my assigned nemesis for about two years now, and I feel like I've gotten a pretty good idea of what to expect from the man. For the most part, at any rate. The majority of his schemes involve overcompensating for whatever minor inconvenience he'd been plagued by recently. I'm not perfect, so I confess that some of these schemes I have to convince myself to thwart.

Perfect example: the single-ply-toilet-paper-remove-inator. I had to remind myself that the sudden disappearance of any kind of toilet paper would be problematic for whatever poor sap was in the stall at the time.

Of course, it's not always like that. The man wouldn't have a nemesis at all if he wasn't at least somewhat dangerous. When he's in a certain mood, his evil schemes can have genuine consequences if carried to fruition.

He's been having a lot of those kinds lately. The cut-off-the-brakes-inator. The boulder-drop-inator. The really-big-snake-inator. On the surface, it seems like he's just been in the mood for some serious evil deeds.

But, his behavior has been…off for the past two weeks. His rants have been short - very short - if he ranted at all and didn't just skip straight to starting up the inator. The first time left me scrambling and cursing myself for getting so accustomed to routine that I hadn't considered he might switch things up one day. But, it happened again and again, and I started to notice a darkness in those navy blue eyes. Not an evil darkness, but one I couldn't put a name to until I hung back one day after a thwart and he screamed at me.

"Why are you still here?! You already destroyed my inator! Stop looking at me like that! Go! I'm fine! Take your jetpack and your fedora and-and your beaver tail and leave me alone!"

It was then that I found the word I'd been looking for: broken. Heinz Doofenshmirtz, a man who rivals Phineas Flynn in cheerfulness, is broken.

Something happened two weeks ago. Or, maybe something happened before then and Dr. D had hit his breaking point. Truth be told, I don't know very much about him. I know he's an immigrant from Drusselstein and loves almond brittle and has a filthy rich wife named Charlene and a thirteen-year-old daughter named Vanessa and a younger brother named Roger who apparently "does everything right." Surface level things like that but nothing beyond.

I used to not care - it isn't as if I've told him anything about me - but seeing what a far cry from himself he's become, I find myself wishing I'd dug a little deeper than what it said on his file.

Or, maybe that wouldn't have helped. It's common for people to put on a smile when they're not okay. He could have been hurting for as long as we've been adversaries or well before that, for all I know, and had simply been good at hiding it.

Well, he's not hiding it anymore.

In this line of work, things like depression and PTSD are common enough that the O.W.C.A. has a protocol for when we suspect someone - agent or otherwise - might be on the brink. Well, maybe "protocol" is the wrong word. Mainly, we send out a signal to our superiors that we are in the process of protecting someone and under no circumstances are to be contacted until the situation has calmed enough that we feel the person is no longer at immediate risk.

There's a chance I'm being paranoid, so I won't send the signal yet. Instead, I'm going to test the waters.

Last night, I wrote Dr. D a note with the number for a suicide prevention hotline. After some consideration, I added the number for my personal cellphone - not my OWCA-issued one; I'm not crazy - with an added message of, Call if you need to talk. I don't care what time of day or night it is. Don't be discouraged if I don't answer. My duties often prevent me from checking my phone, so keep calling or I'll call you back when I can. Text if you're looking for a response you can understand. Please don't do anything you can't undo. - P

Best case scenario, this is a big misunderstanding Dr. D can make fun of me for and I have to get a new phone number.

Today I left him the note after blowing up his lightning-strikes-twice-inator. Now, just after Phineas and Ferb have fallen asleep, my phone vibrates.

On the off-chance that Dr. D did call me, I'd slept at the foot of Phineas's bed instead of nuzzled against his tiny six-year-old torso. Checking the caller ID on my phone, I'm glad I made that choice.

As quickly but carefully as I can, I sneak off the bed and leap into the lair entrance hidden under Ferb's bed. My phone continues vibrating as I slide down the tube and into my secret lair. The lights turn on automatically upon my entrance, and I take the call right as it's about to go to voicemail.

"Hey, Dr. D," I chitter.

"Uh, hello?" he replies, more subdued than I ever thought possible for him. "Is this Perry the Platypus?"

A faint smile pulls at my bill. "Yeah, it's me."

I don't hear anything for a moment. Then, "I-I'm just going to assume that noise was you and not some other platypus. Um… Y-you told me I could call you- Well, you didn't tell me, but-but you wrote it down which is-which is like telling me since…since you can't talk. Ugh. I'm babbling. I'm sorry. I-I babble. You know that. It's just that I… I-I've been building up the courage to do this. Now I…I'm not sure where to go from here."

He doesn't speak platypus, but I still say, "That's alright. Take your time."

Dr. D must get the message. "Um… I…guess I should start by apologizing for…for how I've been. It's not- Um… I-I haven't been… Man, this is harder than I thought it would be. I guess I…" There's a long, long pause before he sighs. "Charlene and I got divorced. We have been for two weeks."

Oh… That's what's been going on. I'd never picked up any signs that Dr. D's marriage was heading south, but I've also barely seen any sign of Charlene in the two years I've been fighting her husband.

Ex-husband now. And, if Dr. D's recent behavior is an indicator, the divorce was not a mutual decision. The poor man.

"I'll be honest," Dr. D goes on. "We lost our spark a while ago. But, I still wanted to keep our marriage alive. For Vanessa if nothing else. Plus, I… You have to understand, Perry the Platypus, good things don't happen to me. My entire life has been one big stink-fest. I-I know I sound like I'm exaggerating, but… Look, you're just gonna have to go with this. I-I'm not comfortable with…sharing any of that. It's nothing against you. I just- I just don't like thinking about it. Charlene knows a little, but I haven't even told her most of it."

I want to tell him that I understand, that he doesn't have to say a single word about his past if he doesn't want to. I'll have to convey it to him as soon as I can.

He continues, his voice shaking now, his accent thick with bottled emotions. "All my life, it's been one painful experience after another. Every good thing that happens to me gets ripped away or I screw it up somehow because I'm just. That. Stupid!" He inhales a sharp gasp that tells me he's crying. "My father always told me the only thing I was good at was being a lawn gnome, and I couldn't even do that right!"

I'm going to assume "being a lawn gnome" is a Drusselstinian idiom, though I can't fathom what it could mean. Regardless, each word out of Heinz's mouth is another dagger in my heart.

Huh. When did I start thinking of him as "Heinz?" I've been calling him "Dr. D" since I was first assigned to him and neither I nor any of the agents I asked could figure out how to pronounce his surname.

"I-i-it's like…like I'm in a dunk tank and-and people keep-keep throwing balls and hitting the target and I keep falling in." Heinz takes another harsh breath and blurts out, "Except I wasn't the guy getting dunked! I was what they threw!"

A strange metaphor, but a poignant one nonetheless. I wince as Heinz is reduced to sobbing, and I pace the length of my lair because I'm growing more and more restless.

My instructors at AWCA - the Academy Without a Cool Acronym - told us that stoicism was key, warning that getting attached to an evildoer could be our downfall. My father - top agent Brutus the Platypus, codename: Agent B - laughed and slapped me on the back when I brought it up one day. He even ran straight to my mother and said to her, "Hey, Junie! You gotta hear what Perry learned at school today!" Of course, since Mom is an ordinary zoo animal, she didn't get the joke any more than I did.

"Let me give you some real advice, son," Dad said to me. "Your nemesis, assuming you are assigned one, is a person. It doesn't matter that they're evil. They are still a person, and once you start learning about them and hearing their story, resistance is futile. Take me, for instance. When I say that I hate Janet, do I really sound like I hate Janet?" He'd been referring to his own nemesis, Prof. Janet Applebottom, and the answer was no, he didn't truly seem like he hated her.

Even so, I'd brushed it off at the time, confident that Dad was the exception to the rule and there was no way one of the good guys could become emotionally attached to one of the bad guys. I wonder what my past self would have to say about this.

"I'm sorry," Heinz says with a hard sniff. "I'm so sorry. I-I thought I'd gotten all of that out of my system when I found your note. Seriously, I was a mess. I was on the floor just-just bawling my eyes out. It wasn't pretty. I'm glad you didn't see it."

I'm telling myself it's for the best. If I had seen it, I would have given professionalism the middle finger and just held the man.

"Like I said, good things don't happen to me," Heinz says thickly, though he seems to have calmed down. I'm unsure if what he says next is really addressed to me. "And, why would they? All I ever do is cause problems. I don't blame Charlene for wanting a divorce. I don't even blame her for keeping Vanessa from me."

I flinch at that. I've seen more of his daughter than I have of his wife - ex-wife, I remind myself - but even if I hadn't, Heinz takes every opportunity to talk about Vanessa. His love for his daughter is absolutely palpable. Joint custody would be hard enough for him, but not getting to see his daughter at all? No wonder he's been a shell of himself.

Heinz takes a moment, drawing in a slow quivering breath. "I-I mean, we have joint custody," I breathe a sigh of relief, "but I only have Vanessa every other weekend! Do you know how much I'm going to miss? She just had her first period last month and-and she's already noticing boys! She's growing up so fast and… Maybe it's better this way. I'm constantly exploding things and tripping over myself. Vanessa is safer with her mother." He groans. "Why am I going on like this? You gave me permission to vent, but that's just you being the good guy. Just your secret agent duties forcing you to help me. You don't actually care."

Yes, I do.

"Nobody ever cares, and the ones who do just leave because I mess everything up. Why do I bother trying? I'm not worth the effort. I've never been. Everyone would have been better off if Roger had been an only child."

I halt my pacing. Does Heinz know he just waved a big red flag in my face?

"Then again, if I hadn't been born, Vanessa wouldn't have either, so there's that. But, even then Charlene did all the work. And, her pregnancy was really rough on her and Vanessa came out feet first and-and I know those aren't things I can control, but I feel like I… I don't know! I don't know, Perry the Platypus!" I tighten my grip on my phone as Heinz starts spiraling again. "I don't know why I'm still talking! I don't know why I keep telling myself that one day I'll be worth more than goat dung! I don't know why I try to form connections when I'm so ugly and loud and I talk too much and I'm generally annoying! I don't… I… I don't…" Quietly, so quietly I can barely hear him on the other line, "I don't know how long I can keep this up."

I've heard enough.

"Perry the Platypus? Are you still there?"

"I'm here, Heinz," I say to him.

Then I hang up and text him as quickly as I am able, I'm going to spend the night at your place. Don't try to change my mind.

Normally, I would sleep in Phineas's bed then wake midway through the night and switch to Ferb's. Not tonight. I wish I could explain the situation to my boys and the rest of my family, but the need to protect far outweighs the guilt.

I tap on my wrist-com to send out a Code: Orange, signalling to Major Monogram that I have a suicide watch in progress and that he should send someone else if anything comes up. Then I grab the duffel bag I keep stored away for sudden overnighters like this and stuff it into Ramona's trunk - yes, I named my hovercar - before climbing into her driver's seat and taking off into the night.

I park Ramona on Heinz's balcony and hoist my duffel bag over my shoulder. Heinz walks past as I step into the living room, and he double-takes upon spotting me. "Oh! You-you actually came. You said you were coming, but I-I didn't realize that you would, you know, actually come."

I take in my nemesis with an aching heart. The man is slouched more than usual, which is honestly impressive, and is wearing rumpled pink pajamas and fuzzy panda bear slippers that are a little brown near the soles. His straight brown hair is a mess, which is admittedly normal, but his face is red and blotchy and his eyes are bloodshot.

This is not an evil scientist bent on taking over the Tri-State Area. This is a man in pain.

Heinz rubs the back of his neck. "I, uh…guess you're staying. Um, the bathroom is- Well, you know where it is if you want to put your-your tiny toothbrush and your tiny deodorant and…uh, whatever you got. You can go ahead and set it all up in there. We could, um… I-it's kind of late, but- A-actually, it's only 9:30. That's only late if you're six years old. Do-do you like board games? We could play board games. I'll go get some."

He rushes off down the hall. I grab my toiletries and head in the same direction to place all my things in the bathroom. I'm back in the living room before Heinz, and I wait so long that I'm about to check on him when he returns, carrying a dozen board game options in his arms.

"I don't know what kinds of games you like," he says as he sets the stack down on the carpet, "so I'll let you pick. We've got Not Sorry, Connect Five, The Game of Coping With Society. Oh, and we've got Kleptocracy! That one was always Vanessa's favorite…" He trails off and presses his trembling lips together.

I know which game I'm not going to pick. I scan the stack and spot one that I've seen my own kids play a lot at home.

I point to that one and watch Heinz practically melt with relief. "Oh! You like Skiddley Whiffers? Okay. We can play that."

So, we play a few rounds with me as the fedora game piece - predictable, I know - and Heinz using the sneaker. He doesn't say much beyond reading the cards he draws or bemoaning the times he lands on "Lose a Turn" or a declaration of, "Ha ha! Victory bell, baby!" when he wins the second game.

It is during our two-out-of-three match when he speaks of something other than the game on the floor between us. Up to this point, he's been mostly in his own head, so I direct my full attention to the man sitting cross-legged on the opposite side of the board.

"You really are staying, aren't you? Why? Surely there's someone at home waiting for you. A guy like you must have someone."

My body tenses against my will. I can't tell Heinz about the Flynn-Fletchers. Not without serious consequences.

I hope they aren't too worried when I'm not there in the morning.

I stamp down the guilt while Heinz keeps talking. "Do you have a wife at home? Or, a husband? I don't know what you're into. Do you have some form of spouse?"

This, I can be honest about. I shake my head.

"So…maybe a girlfriend? Or, boyfriend? Or, uh…whatever the third one is? There's a- There's a genderless option, right? It's so confusing in this country. Back in Drusselstein, you couldn't be LGBT at all, or else they'd burn you at the stake. When I was a child, I was forced to wear nothing but dresses for a year - don't ask - and, oof, that was not a pleasant year." At my expression, he adds, "I'm not saying I condone that. The stake-burning thing. It's-it's messed up. It's just that America welcomes so many things, and…and I get confused. You-you could identify as a mushroom, for all people care here. A-again, I respect it and I even appreciate it, a country that welcomes weirdos instead of forcing them to love certain people or dress a certain way. It's nice, even if it's confusing. Like-like with Dr. Devilsmore, one of my evil colleagues. I used masculine pronouns for them for the longest time before discovering that they were non-binary. They-they could have mentioned that sooner! 'Course, like a lot of people, they don't particularly like me, so they don't exactly talk to me if they don't have to."

I can't fight a small smile as Heinz rambles on, seeming much more like himself than he did when I first arrived. I was worried I'd have to monitor him all night to ensure he didn't do anything…irreparable so to speak, but maybe all he needed was some company.

"But, anyway," Heinz says, "do you have a romantic partner of some gender?"

I shake my head.

"A bachelor, huh? Does that mean you live alone?"

No, but I nod because I have to. If I could gush about my family to this man without risk, I would have done so a long time ago.

Heinz reverts back to his dismal mood. "I guess that's how you're able to do this, huh? Just drop in on me without having to deal with the guilt of leaving someone behind out of the blue."

Um…

"Even so, wouldn't you rather spend the night in your own bed, surrounded by your own things?"

Ordinarily, I'd say yes, but this is an emergency situation. I cross my arms over my chest and fix him with a stern look.

He rubs one hand over the other with a pinched expression. "I'm just trying to understand. What do you gain from being here? Why drop everything just to keep me company?"

The fact that he needs to ask breaks my heart further. I pull out my phone and hold it up for him.

"My phone call? That's why you came? That was just me rambling because you gave me permission. You're my nemesis, the guy who gets paid to beat me up. You don't care about me. You just care about your paycheck, so why- Ow! That's not how you roll dice, Perry the Platypus!"

I glance at the dice that landed on the board after I chucked them at his face and move my game piece three spaces forward. Then, I recross my arms and glare at him again.

Heinz shrugs with his hands up on either side. "What? You're saying you do care?"

I nod and keep up my stern facade. Meanwhile, I am restraining myself from grabbing him and demanding to know why that is so unbelievable to him.

My admission has Heinz short-circuiting, which is just plain painful to see. "But…but, that's not… That's not how it works! I have a scheme. You come here. You thwart my scheme. And then, you go home and get paid. That is how it works! You don't- Y-you're telling me you care beyond that?"

To help slam the obvious into his thick skull, I point to him then point to his arm. He stares at his arm, and I wait for the memory to surface.

"Are you referring to the time I destroyed both of my arms and you helped me repair them? That was just you being a nice guy. At least…I thought it was."

That incident had happened early on in our animosity. I didn't care all that much back then, but it didn't feel right to leave him in that state. Looking back, I suppose that means I cared about him, but only to the extent that he was a person who needed help.

Not unlike right now, though my feelings, loathe as I am to admit it, have altered since then.

Heinz sighs. "Why am I questioning it? I know the answer. You're the good guy. Good guys help people. It doesn't matter if that person is a worthless lump-"

"Bite your tongue, you idiot!" I snap, hoping that Heinz won't notice the waver in my voice since my words sound like nonsense to his human ears.

"What? Why are you so angry?" he asks. "Did I get that wrong? Are you being paid to do this?"

I want to hug this man and strangle him at the same time. There's no way for me to convey my feelings with gestures alone - not one that I can see - so I mime holding a pad and writing in it. I have my own notepad, but it's too small for something like this.

Heinz takes the hint and leaves to grab a spiral-bound notebook and a pen. I open the notebook on the floor and feel my nemesis's gaze boring through me as I write.

Why is it so difficult for you to understand that I'm here because I want to be? Am I not allowed to help someone simply because I can? Am I not allowed to just care about you as a person? You are a person, Heinz. That alone means you deserve to be loved. I don't know what happened to make you think otherwise, but if I could go back in time and fix it, I would. Good, evil, or something in between, your life has value. You are valued. I wish I could make you see that for yourself.

Why are my eyes burning? Why is my throat closing up? Why is my hand shaking as I write?

I return the notebook and pen to Heinz and let him read the emotions I've spilled out on the page. His expression starts out curious before his angular features tighten in shock. Then he presses trembling lips together as his face pinches and those navy blue eyes glimmer a little too much in the artificial lighting.

"E-excuse me," he chokes out, leaving the notebook and pen behind when he bolts out of the room.

I should give him space, but I enabled Code: Orange for a reason. There's no way of knowing if my written words had the soothing effect I intended. I trail silently behind him. He rushes into the bathroom and leaves the door wide open as he turns on the faucet to splash water over his face.

He turns off the faucet and takes a deep breath as he speaks quietly to his reflection in the above mirror. "Get a grip, Heinz. Perry the Platypus is trying to be nice. Don't drive him away by losing your cool."

Is he serious? "You couldn't drive me away unless you dumped me in a sack and threw me into the trunk of your car!"

Without looking, he wags his fingers in my direction. "I-in a minute, Perry the Platypus." He looks at me, looks at the mirror, looks at me again. "Perry?!"

In his shock, he twists and stumbles over his own slippers. With a shout, he loses his balance, his arms pinwheeling cartoonishly as he goes tumbling backwards.

Instinct takes over. I bolt behind him as he falls and catch him. Our vast size difference means that I couldn't stop him from landing entirely, but one of my hands is under his neck and while the other cradles the back of his head.

I was already shaking, but now I see that his head is positioned above the edge of his bathtub. An inch above the edge of the bathtub. One measly inch, maybe not even that. If I had been a millisecond slower, Heinz's head would have collided with that corner. And, that is a very sharp corner. Who designs a bathtub like that?

Heinz breaks out of the stupor first. He must have come to the same conclusion, as his hand reaches back and feels around. I feel him wince when he discovers how close he came to cracking his skull open. "Oh, wow! Thank you for the save, Perry the Platypus. That could have been so bad!"

I came here to prevent him from dying, and he almost died anyway because I startled him. My trembling worsens as the reality of the situation hits me full-force. I clench my bill, and my vision grows blurry as I struggle to hold on.

Heinz grunts and hisses as he lifts himself into a seated position and rubs his tailbone. "My poor posterior. But, seriously, if you had been even a millisecond slower, that could have really gone south. Literally, in the sense that I was falling, but also figuratively because you-you'd probably have to call an ambulance. So, thank you for being exactly the speed you needed to be, because that could have been a mess. Literally and figuratively."

I love him.

I love this stupid motherfucker, and I don't know when or how it happened. All I can say with certainty is that if Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz died, I would mourn him. If he had died just now because I startled him into falling, I would never forgive myself.

The whole point of coming here was to keep him from killing himself. He could have died just now because of me.

I am reminded of something my mother once told me. When I was very young, there was an incident in which Dad's hovercar crash-landed in our enclosure at the Danville Zoo. Dad was unconscious and covered in blood. I was panicking, and Mom was trying to soothe me while also trying to figure out how to call for help on Dad's wrist-com. Once all was said and done and we knew for certain that Dad would be okay, Mom broke down sobbing on the spot. I asked what was wrong, and I had to wait until she calmed down to get a coherent response.

"Perry, sweetie," she'd chittered, "sometimes you don't know how much you love someone until something really, really bad happens to them."

"But, didn't you already love Dad?" my innocent little self had asked.

To which, Mom replied, "Yeah, but I didn't know I loved him that much!"

I'm starting to see what she meant.

I grit my teeth against the first sob that rips itself out of my throat, but there's no fighting this anymore.

Heinz twists to look over his shoulder, sees me falling apart behind him, and spins the whole way around to rest on his knees. "P-P-Perry the Platypus? Did I scare you that badly?"

I press the heels of my hands to my eyes, desperate to stanch the tears that won't stop falling while I'm stuck making these ungodly sounds and dissolving into a puddle.

"Come on, man," Heinz begs. "Don't cry! I-I'm okay! My hiney is a little bruised, but-but all the important parts are intact!"

I turn away as if that will hide my humiliation. If Heinz were a family member or one of my friends or, hell, even a fellow agent, I wouldn't be this embarrassed. But, Heinz is my nemesis. I'm supposed to be suave, cunning, driven by icy determination. Not a blubbering heap who can't stand the idea of losing a man who dresses like a pharmacist and gets huffy when people think he is one.

Damn this man for being so easy to love yet somehow still hating himself. Damn my father for being right about the inevitable relationship between an agent and their nemesis. Damn my mother for being so wise. Damn those walls I put up that were supposed to defend the delicate heart within.

Damn…damn everything, because I'm crying in my adversary's bathroom and he can see it and now he's making those gentle shushing noises and running his mechanical fingers through the fur on my back and it feels good.

It takes too fucking long for my hysteria to soften into sniffles and whimpers. Heinz wordlessly stops petting me and reaches for the tissue box sitting on the back of the toilet. He hands me a tissue with not a singular sign of judgement. Only a sweet, relieved smile that makes me want to cry again. One final teardrop is all I allow before taking the tissue and wiping my face and blowing my nose.

"You know, tears are the universal secretion for sincerity," Heinz babbles. He looks away and sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. "I, uh, guess that means you really do care about me, huh?"

"No shit, Sherlock," I mutter as I toss the tissue into the waste basket.

Heinz turns his smile downward, rubbing one hand over the other as the faintest blush darkens his cheeks. "You're, um… You're really sweet when you're not punching me in the face."

That gets a chuckle out of me.

Heinz grabs the sink for support as he rises to his feet. "So, now that all that's been settled, I believe we have a tiebreaker to finish. I-if you're up for it?"

I give him a thumbs-up.

We return to our game, and the silence between us is different now. It's calm and companionable where it once was heavy with dark thoughts and words unspoken. I feel lighter, and I can see that Heinz does too even if he still doesn't have a lot to say.

I have every intention of spending the night as a precaution, but I'm honestly debating whether or not I should disable the Code: Orange. Maybe I'll wait until morning just in case.

Although Heinz does sound more like himself when he rings the tiny bell and whoops, "Victory bell! At last, I've defeated you, Perry the Platypus! I have defeated you at this board game meant for ages three and up… I'll take it!" He declares while throwing his fists in the air in triumph.

I humor him by clapping my hands.

Heinz yawns suddenly. "Okay, why don't we pack this up? It's, uh, it's been a long day. Lots of…lots of, uh…y-you know. I'm kind of tired. I-I haven't really been sleeping, which…shouldn't come as a surprise to you."

I'm tired too. It isn't that late, but the adrenaline that's been buzzing through me since Heinz called has finally faded. Add in my - ahem - display in the bathroom, and I'm emotionally drained.

We bump into each other while trying to perform our nightly ablutions and decide it's best to take turns at the sink. I go second then meet Heinz in his bedroom. He is already under the covers when sees me climbing on to the foot of his bed.

"Uh," he stammers as I hang my fedora on the end of the bed post, "you're sleeping in here?"

I respond by dropping to all-fours and kneading the mattress before laying on my stomach.

"You don't do anything by halves, do you, Perry the Platypus? Seriously, you-you don't have to do this. You can- You can use Vanessa's room. She's…not here. So-so, the room's free."

That catch in his voice is the reason I'm sleeping in this room. An insane part of me wants to cuddle up to him like I would my kids, but that might be a step too far.

Heinz gestures to me and asks, "So, that's it? You're just gonna sleep at the foot of my bed like a dog? That can't be comfortable! Er…maybe it is comfortable for you. Sometimes I forget that you're an animal." I tilt my brow at him, and he amends, "Okay, I don't forget. I mean, look at you. You've got fur and a tail and-and you're, like, two feet tall! But, you act so human, that I…I-I think of you as one. You're not an animal in my mind. You're-you're a tiny teal human."

I halt the bashful grin that tries to sneak its way to my bill, replacing it with the expected eye roll. If I happen to be blushing, well, my fur is good at hiding that sort of thing.

Silence reigns for long enough that I start to drift off. Then a whispered voice rouses me from the brink of oblivion. "Perry the Platypus? Are you still awake?"

"Barely," I chitter groggily.

Heinz shifts under his covers, speaking at a normal volume now. "I-I'm sorry. You probably want to go to sleep. I'll be quiet."

I twirl my wrist and say to him, "You can talk. It's okay."

He gets the message from my tone and my gesture, but he stares at the ceiling as he speaks. "I was just thinking. If I started telling you my backstories…" He grunts as he props himself up on his elbows to talk to me properly. "That is to say, if I…told you things about my past…the-the bad things…would you listen?"

I nod because what kind of question is that? Of course I would listen! After everything that's happened tonight, was there really any doubt about that?

Heinz gnaws on his bottom lip and does an anxious little shimmy. "I mean, like, without judgement. People tend to…think I make things up or…or exaggerate my trauma. E-even Charlene thought I was exaggerating certain things. I-I…stopped trying after a while. And, I don't blame Charlene or anyone else. Some of my backstories sound like something out of a weird kids' show. But…they're not. They're real." He clears his throat when his voice starts to break. He meets my gaze with an expression as steely as it is fragile. "So, if I did start telling you about my past, would…would you listen without judgement? And…maybe try to believe me? No matter how odd some of it sounds?"

I nod again. I don't care how bizarre or cartoonish his backstories are. They'll be as true to me as they are to him.

Heinz sends me the most tender of smiles before laying back down. "Thank you, Perry the Platypus. You know, uh, you could tell me a few things about yourself, too. I've known you for two years, but I still don't really know you. You don't have to tell me any backstories," he adds through a yawn, "but it'd be nice to know some things. No pressure, though." He snuggles under the covers. "Goodnight, Perry the Platypus."

"'Night, Heinz," I chitter back.

Once he is sound asleep, I decide, what the hell? I can't tell him about my life outside of this job, but there's no harm in him knowing a few surface level things.

I sneak out of the room and retreat to the living room, where the notebook and pen I used earlier are resting on the coffee table, and I get to writing.

I prefer tea, but I will occasionally treat myself to a fancy latte. I'm a big reader, and my favorite genres are fantasy and paranormal. I'll listen to pretty much any music that isn't rap or hip hop.

I jot down a few more details before returning to Heinz's bedroom, setting the notebook on the nightstand, and returning to my spot at the foot of the bed.

Heinz isn't in bed when I wake. When I remember what brought me here in the first place, panic sets in until I smell bacon and…and shrimp? I grab my fedora then rush down the hall and spot Heinz in the kitchen. I let out the breath I'd been holding and head to the bathroom for a quick pit stop before returning to the kitchen. My steps are purposely heavy to avoid another incident like the one in the bathroom last night.

Heinz turns around at the sound of my approach, spatula in hand, and he is smiling. "Good morning, Perry the Platypus. I was gonna wake you, but you looked so cute that I couldn't bring myself to do it!"

Oh, brother. At least he's in high spirits.

"You're wrong, by the way," he says while pointing at me with the spatula. At my confusion, he adds with a smirk, "'Space Adventure' is a far superior series to 'Stumbleberry Finkbat.'"

He read my note. Why does that make me so happy? I cover the emotion with a smirk of my own as I cross my arms and shake my head.

"You're wrong, Perry the Platypus. But, since you have a fondness for the fantasy genre, I suppose I can understand your misconception." With that bold statement, he returns his attention to the sizzling skillet. "I looked up what platypuses eat. I don't have any worms or insects handy, but I do have some frozen shrimp I'm heating up as we speak. It's probably not what you're used to, but it's what I've got."

I tip my hat in thanks, opting not to tell him that I can eat the same things he can, since he went to the trouble.

Heinz narrows his eyes at the skillet then comes to some decision. He turns a nervous smile in my direction. "I-I always have shrimp in my freezer. Despite my own mild phobia of shellfish. Um, there's a story behind why I keep shrimp in my freezer. If you're curious."

I most certainly am.

"Well, you see, Perry the Platypus, when I first came to this country, I got a job as a fishmonger."

He is timid at first, but his confidence grows once he realizes that I am paying attention and taking his story seriously. Even the silly parts like sword fighting with a rival fishing boat or a walrus stealing his left shoe - "Only the left one! What does a walrus want with only one shoe? What does a walrus want with any shoes, for that matter?" - are treated as hard facts in my mind. He is not summarizing an episode of a weird kids' show. No, this is something that actually happened to him. No exaggerations. No false statements.

Because I know, especially after last night, that this man would not lie to me about his past.

"So, yeah," he concludes as we sit down to eat, with me on a booster seat that must have been his daughter's at one point. "That's the story of the walrus incident. Not to be confused with the llama incident, which is a whole other backstory." He picks up his fork to dig into his bacon and sunny-side up eggs but winces at his plate. "Should I be eating eggs in front of you? They're not platypus eggs - I don't even know where they would sell those - but-but is this weirding you out at all?"

I grin in amusement and shake my head.

Heinz visibly relaxes. "Oh, good. I was worried this was going to be awkward. I hope you don't mind the coffee. I know you said you prefer tea, but I don't have any tea, so… I also don't know how you take your coffee, so I just made it the way I like it."

I take an experimental sip. The coffee itself isn't bad, but it's a touch too sweet for my palate. I set the mug down and shrug.

"Good enough? Alright. Also, because of that phobia I mentioned, I'm not familiar with cooking shellfish, but I did the best I could with the shrimp. I even sauteed them in butter and put some of that fancy seafood seasoning on them. A-and, it just occurred to me that you might not be able to eat butter and seasoning…"

I alleviate his concerns by stabbing a shrimp with my fork and popping it into my mouth. It's overcooked, but the seasoning is quite good.

Heinz turns back to his plate but doesn't eat, only idly pushes the food around on his plate. "I just…wanted to do something nice. To-to show how much I…appreciate you being here. Especially with how I've been lately. I've been a pretty rotten nemesis, huh?"

I don't think that at all, and I shake my head to let him know.

Heinz sighs. "I think I'm going to take a break. Figure things out, you know?"

I think that's a good idea. I point my thumb at my chest then offer a firm nod.

Heinz glances at me then turns away bashfully. "I know. You'll listen if I need to vent. You've made that pretty clear. And, really, thank you for this."

I nod once more, and we finish our breakfast in silence, the same companionable silence we shared while playing Skidley Whiffers last night.

I offer to wash the dishes, but Heinz insists on doing all the work. Just as well, as my wrist-com starts beeping and I have to step out of the kitchen. The sound of the water running and the clinking of dishware echoes behind me as I step into the living room and wonder why Major Monogram is calling me when I haven't disabled Code: Orange yet.

"Good morning, Agent P," Monogram greets on the small screen. "Just checking on how that Code: Orange is doing. You've had it active since last night. Man, that giant floating baby head must really be stuck, huh?"

What.

A young African American woman I've seen before appears next to Monogram. "Uh, sir?"

"What is it, Brittany?" the major asks her. "You know how I feel about interns hogging my screen time."

And, he wonders why he - no one else, just him - has a high turnover rate for interns.

Brittany narrows her eyes at his tone and replies, "Sir, the giant floating baby head getting wedged into something is a Code: Yellowish Red."

"Oh, right," Monogram says. He taps his chin in thought. "Then, Code: Orange is…a giant insectoid robot dance party!"

I sense that Brittany is restraining her facepalm as much as I am mine. "That's a Code: Reddish Yellow. Code: Orange is when an agent is trying to stop someone from committing suicide!"

"Great googly moogly! Forget this call ever happened, Agent P," Monogram says apologetically. "You just keep doing what you're doing. Meanwhile, I am going to find out what idiot named these codes. Monogram, out."

I salute him even though I want to reach through the screen and choke him. Once his and Brittany's images are gone, I wince at the sight of the time. Everyone at home is up and moving by now and likely wondering where I am. The kids will be spending the whole school day worrying.

But, is it safe to leave Heinz yet? He seems pretty okay, in comparison to last night at the very least, but I don't feel right just walking out on him.

Luckily, he makes the decision for me when I return to the kitchen. He is drying his hands on a dish towel as he asks, "Do you have to get going, Perry the Platypus? Got some secret agent business to attend to?"

I don't answer, don't really know how to.

Heinz sets the towel on the counter behind him. "It's alright. You can go if you need to. I'm, uh, feeling better. Not-not great, but better than I have been. Thanks to you," he adds shyly.

I guess that means the danger's passed. I tip my hat to him and turn to leave.

"Hold on!" I turn back around at the sound of his voice. "There must be something I can do for you! I-I made you shrimp, but that wasn't anything! There-there has to be some way for me to repay you!"

Repay me? Honestly, this man. I take out my notepad and write down, You can live. I tear off the page and hand it to him. He reads it with a strange expression before shock tightens his features.

"Wait! Did you think I was- I-I wasn't- At least…I don't think I… I mean… A-admittedly, the thought has crossed my mind before. And, there was that incident with the gun that turned out to be a prop." My insides twist up. Heinz sees this and waves his hands in front of him. "B-b-but, that was way before I met you! Way before I even met Charlene! Nowadays, I…I-I don't think I…" He deflates significantly, drawing out a heavy sigh. "I really do need a break."

He really does.

"You go on and do your secret agent thing, whatever it is," Heinz says. "I've already kept you here long enough- Don't give me that look. I am well aware that you're here of your own accord and that I did not trap you here. The truth is that I'm…I-I'm just not used to people being nice to me and having nothing to gain from it. Charlene and Vanessa are the obvious exceptions, of course. But, Charlene wanted us to stop being married, and Vanessa…is pulling away already…" He shakes off the melancholy. "But-but, she'll be here this weekend! Vanessa, I mean. I-it'll be a chance for us to reconnect."

Good. Hold on to that thought, Heinz, and best of luck.

He calls out, "Thanks again, Perry the Platypus!" as I fly away in my hovercar. I also disable the Code: Orange, as this is clearly not the last I will see of Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz. He'll take his break from evil, and then I'm certain it'll be back to the traps and combat and explosions we've both become accustomed to. Maybe, once he's comfortable enough, he'll tell me more of those backstories of his, offer me a deeper glimpse into that complex mind.

I'm looking forward to it.