AN: Sequel to my other fic, Booter To Have Loved And Socks. If you haven't read that, I highly recommend it.

The (important) context of this is, Candace is an OWCA agent now, Perry died and left her his lair in his will.

There's a rule with ghosts, about unfinished business. Often, this unfinished business revolves around revenge, getting back at someone who wronged them.

In the case of one Perry the Platypus, nothing could be further from the truth.

It was a bright and sunny summer morning, and two boys were busy constructing in the back yard. None of this was particularly unusual, even the empty patch of grass where a teal platypus should have been napping but wasn't.

The reason for it was, however, unusual. There would be no "Where's Perry?" today, for they knew where he was and why he wasn't coming home.

And yet, even with him gone, the presence of said platypus could still be felt. Wind ruffled the grass, everywhere but the small hollow he'd habitually napped in while waiting for his orders.

Until, all of a sudden, the presence vanished.

No one noticed but one Candace Flynn, who'd always had a sense for that sort of thing. Doubly so since she'd learned where the platypus always disappeared to in the first place, a fact her then-new employer had wished could still be hidden from her. Then again, it's hard to conceal a secret agent from his own family when said family has just become a secret agent herself.

Today, she'd noticed him leaving, like he always did. And she had her suspicions as to why.

Following his presence, a path he'd walked near-daily for most of his life, she found herself in his lair. Her lair, now. Exactly where she'd suspected he'd go, disappointing as that was.

The screen switched on, and it wasn't for her. As much as she could wish otherwise, that wasn't a surprise either. Major Monogram, on the screen, shuffled his papers, and her watch hadn't buzzed on her wrist at all. "Agent P-"

"You do know he's dead, right?" She stared up at him, arms folded. The one advantage of being a human agent at the O.W.C.A., she'd found, was that her superiors couldn't pretend they didn't understand her. Sure, they'd tried, but she wouldn't be Candace Flynn if she didn't campaign against injustice as loudly and aggravatingly as sapietly possible, and the way Major Monogram treated his subordinates bordered on sapient rights violations.

For one thing, they'd still called it 'Human Resources'.

On the screen, Major Monogram looked visibly nervous, the way he always did whenever he had to interact with her. She had a tenacity about her that would put even pursuit predators to shame, let alone a man who'd grown complacent in his position.

"Of course," he said eventually, unsubtly pulling his uniform flat over his chest in an attempt to look like the imposing agent he'd been many years earlier, before he'd grown comfortable in his desk job. "But he's still on the payroll-"

"But nothing," she snapped. "He dedicated his life to you. At least let him have his death for himself."

Candace didn't have many regrets in her life, the result of being so all or nothing in her convictions. But now, faced with a future where her family was less one member, and an uncaring bureaucracy determined to take even his memory as its due, she found herself wishing she'd treated Perry better in his short life.

What could she do now, as the sister she'd never known she'd been to him, but make sure he wasn't mistreated in his death? That was what family did.

And if there was one thing she was painfully familiar with, it was the face of an authority figure searching for any excuse to dismiss everything she said. She could see it on Major Monogram's face, clear as day, and it only strengthened her resolve.

"You won't do this to him," she said, with the voice of someone who will not take 'no' for an answer. "I won't let you. So let. Him. Rest."

"But-"

"If you need to send someone, send me instead. I'll do it."

"Absolutely not."

"For free," she added. Any inconvenience was worth the trouble, for her family.

Major Monogram, as much as he wanted to, couldn't argue with that. It wasn't every day an agent gave up their meagre paycheck, and there was nothing the O.W.C.A. liked more than a few extra bucks to stretch the budget with.

At least, that's what Major Monogram would claim he'd allocate that money to, if anyone dared to ask. In reality, he did need a new comfortable desk chair...

And a new change of clothes. Somehow, his nose had tuned out the faint odour of platypus urine permeating the air around him. Carl had been too polite to say anything. Or too intimidated. After all, Major Monogram's favourite threat was to take money from the paycheck he wasn't even recieving.

Major Monogram sighed. "Fine. Agent O is waiting for you. I'll get Carl to send you the coordinates. Good luck, Agent P- Agent M."

This designation was the result of the brief time Candace had lived with, and been adopted into, a group of monkeys. Whether or not that was why they'd accepted her employment, in the midst of the policy changes signalling O.W.C.A.'s return to employing full humans, was still unclear, even to the as-yet-unrenamed Human Resources department.

Either way, she'd been given her mission. Forgoing the traditional salute, she strapped on her jetpack, leaving only a cloud of smoke to show she'd been there at all.

Behind her, the presence she'd followed seemed to slump, a sense of exhaustion filling the space. And gratefulness.

Then, as abruptly as it had appeared, the presence was gone, back to resting in the worn patch of grass above, where the two boys were still at work.

In the coming days, the presence would stay, watching the two boys create amazing things, emnating a sense of pride at what he saw.

This was why he'd stayed, even after his physical connection to the world had ceased. He'd always wished for an uninterrupted day with them, to watch them at work in (platy)person, to finally spend a day with the two people he loved most in the world.

And, now that he could spend that time with them, he'd find it better even than he'd hoped it would be.

A week would pass like this, Perry's ghost spending every moment with his boys, dozing at the foots of their beds, occasionally brushing against Candace's leg in thankfulness before following one or both out to the back yard.

A week would pass, and then, he would know, it was time to go. He'd had a good life, and a better unlife, and he knew he'd continue to live on in their memories.

A week, and Perry would let go of the last ties he had to the world he knew, fading away into the next.

AN: Crossposted from ao3, finally. Title comes from Ghosts by Mike Shinoda.