AN: Another crosspost, "Five Times Heinz Doofenshmirtz Looked To The Past, And One Time He Looked To The Future", written for Perryshmirtz Week. As you may expect from that title, this is a 5+1. A 5+1 about Heinz getting therapy, specifically.
Content warning for Heinz's poor self-image, references to childhood abuse, etc, in the context of Heinz learning to heal and embrace the family he has.
I.
It's reassuring, in a weird kind of way, to hear your nemesis knocking on your door, here to thwart you. Mostly because he's not kicking the door down for once. Even without that, you know it's him, because it's not like you get any other visitors.
Which just makes his inevitable disappointment worse.
"Come in, Perry the Platypus," you say quietly, waving him into your empty laboratory and shutting the door behind him. This isn't something you want anyone else hearing. "No scheme today. I realised-" You sigh. "So, you know how I usually have a backstory for you, right? Most of the time. Sometimes I don't, but that's beside the point. And I always- I write my monologues in advance- I know you already know that too, just let me finish."
He gives you a look, eyebrow raised and arms folded. Get on with it, he's probably thinking, like always. Which you will, once you figure out where to go from here.
This is why you plan your monologues. If you don't, you have to think while he's staring at you, judging you. Like right now.
Why didn't you plan this one?
"The point is, I was trying to find inspiration for a new scheme for you to thwart, going through all my backstories, and there's a lot of those, and I... I've told you all of them." Most of them. Some, you don't know if you could ever share, even with him. The ones that are too horrible, or too personal, or too... your fault. "Can you believe that? Me, out of backstories! And, without a source of painful memories to draw from, I'm out of ideas, nothing's really-" You gesture helplessly over at the half-built inators you couldn't even bring yourself to finish, let alone... "I'm just not feeling it today. Or anything, really, I'm just... numb. Hollow." Defeated. "I don't know who I am without my backstories, Perry the Platypus. Can you help me?"
Asking him for help never gets any easier, no matter how often you have to do it. Which is often. You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to refuse, for him to leave-
His little hand slips into yours and squeezes. Apparently he's not leaving after all, not this time.
II.
"Are you sure?" you have to ask, not for the first time, as he walks you to your appointment. The one he'd convinced you to book, after one too many breakdowns. Someone who can... listen, he'd told you. Someone who can help, where he can't. Especially now that you've given up Evil. "This doesn't mean you hate me, right? As a- a person, not as a nemesis, of course you still hate me as a nemesis..."
Squeezing your hand once again in reassurance, he gives you that soft smile you only ever see when he's with you - not as a nemesis, either, it's a best friend sort of smile - and pushes you forward. He believes in you. That has to be enough, right?
Then you sit in a room, where a tall woman in bright clothes introduces herself as your new therapist. There's forms to fill out, which you do, and then...
You hadn't expected sharing your backstories to be so hard. After all, you tell them to Perry the Platypus all the time, how hard can it be? Very, as it turns out. Waiting for your... therapist... to laugh, to dismiss you. Everyone else does.
Instead, she mostly listens, just like Perry the Platypus.
When you're done, you walk back out in a daze and he joins you, offering his cute little paw. "She- she said there could be a word for it," you mumble. "That I'm not..."
Broken, your thoughts supply. You're not broken.
"Thank you, Perry the Platypus," you mumble, taking his paw, letting him lead you back home. "For suggesting it. It's... I needed this."
III.
"I'm proud of you, Dad," is the first thing Vanessa says when you tell her how it went. Well, not so much you talking about it as Perry the Platypus, still standing right beside you, his paw in your hand. You don't know how he does it but he's definitely talking. Vanessa hugs you either way, and it's nice.
Patting her on the shoulder with your free hand, you try for a smile, your therapist's words lingering in the back of your mind. "Vanessa, honey, can we talk? Nothing bad, I promise."
She takes a step back, and you'd forgotten your daughter could smile like that. "Sure, Dad."
Now for the hard part. You sit down, gesturing for her to do the same, and try to remember where you were going with this while Perry the Platypus leans against your side. Where do you even start? From the beginning, probably. "I know I haven't always been the best father-"
"Dad-"
"Hear me out. I've seen you every other weekend, for years, and we barely know each other. I barely know my own daughter. My fault," you say, before she can protest. "All I ever wanted was to make you happy, but I never asked what you wanted. So, now I'm asking- You're not getting a car."
Slouching into her chair, she grumbles under her breath, and you would be a very poor father if you couldn't recognise swearing when you heard it.
"Language, young lady. Who taught you that word? Was it Perry the Platypus?" You turn to him, still tucked in against you. "Did you teach her that, Perry the Platypus?"
All he does is roll his eyes. It was definitely him, you're sure of it.
"Dad," Vanessa says, and you look back at her. "I know you really like music, so... can I show you the music I like?"
The music she's always listening to on her music player, or in her room, always too faint to make out? She wants you to hear it now? You're not crying. "Yeah," you say, wiping your eyes on your sleeve, "I'd like that."
IV.
Standing outside the closet door, you take a deep breath, taking comfort in Perry the Platypus's fingers wrapped around your own. This was all his idea. Well, your therapist's, she's the one who suggested it, but it's Perry the Platypus who'd glared at you until you agreed. He's still glaring.
"Fine, I'm doing it," you mutter, now, and step forward to knock at the door. "Norm?"
The door opens, and your giant robot man appears, a broad grin on his face as per usual. It's not like you ever gave him any other expression. "What a lovely day, sir!"
Why did you agree to this?
The silence stretches out, and his mouth twists into a frown. You don't remember adding that function. The whole building process may have been a blur, but you'd think you'd remember that much. He must have upgraded himself again while you weren't looking.
Not that you ever look at him if you can avoid it. You'd rather not be reminded of your failures, thanks.
Your therapist's words reverberate through your mind again, the question she'd asked when you'd first mentioned Norm and how useless he is. Do you see him at all?
No, you realise, staring up at his face. No you don't.
When you look at him, all you see is your own reflection staring back: a man who doesn't deserve happiness, or love, or comfort, not that he ever had it in the first place. It doesn't even matter that his paint doesn't reflect anything, because it doesn't need to. You see yourself easily either way.
But he's not you. He doesn't deserve the hatred and loathing you do, does he? So why do you act like he does? You made him, sure, but you had a part in making Vanessa too and she came out better than you'd ever imagined.
He's looking at you with so much hope in his eyes now, while you stand here, and you remember that hope. The hope that, this time, Father would listen, or Mother would tell you she's proud of you. Is that what you've been doing to Norm? Giving him hope you'll do better one day, with no intention of acting on it?
Is that what your parents did to you? Dangled hope in front of you, with no intention of following through, so you'd-
Perry the Platypus squeezes your fingers, and you exhale. Right. Norm. "It is a lovely day," you say, voice thick. There's so much you should have said before now. "Can we... talk?" So much you should have told him, and it's time to make up for that. You try for a smile. "Son."
V.
You keep visiting the therapist, week after week, and it's hard to look back at your past but you always feel lighter afterwards. Who would have thought talking about it would be so cathartic? Sure, you've told Perry the Platypus most of it already, during your evil monologues, but it was different then. A tragic backstory to explain your inators. An excuse, a way to avoid your feelings, pretending it didn't still hurt.
Some days, Perry the Platypus accompanies you, his little paw wrapped around your finger. Your rock. Other times, you can't bear for him to know. It's not even that he won't understand, because he will, it's just that it's not his job any more. You're no longer Evil, if you ever were.
"I talked to Roger a few days ago," you say today, your nemesis safely on the other side of the door. "About- about Mother."
He hadn't wanted to believe you, at first. That much was obvious. Grow up together, at least for a few years, and you learn a lot about how your brother ticks.
For a few moments, you'd thought he'd hung up, he was that quiet. You wouldn't blame him. It's not like you've ever tried to reach out before.
Then he'd told you his side of the story, how he'd spent his life terrified of ending up like you, doing whatever he could to stay on Mother's good side so she wouldn't turn on him too, and it had all fallen into place. You weren't so different after all.
Spending a lifetime trying to earn the love of a mother who'd made up her mind before either of you were even born.
You'd said as much, and he'd gone quiet again. A different sort of silence to before. Heavy with everything you can't say, even with the help you've been getting, and when he'd finally responded it was to ask if you'd get coffee with him, talk about it face-to-face.
So you had, and it had gone... well. Better than you'd hoped. You'd been able to laugh, at least, and mean it. Swapping stories, catching up on forty years of missed opportunities...
"We're going to meet up again next week," you finish, now. "Is it weird that I'm looking forward to that?"
"Nah, that's not weird," your therapist says, the first thing she's said since you sat down. Probably because you've spent most of the session monologuing. "I think you've wanted this for a long time. Family's very important to you, isn't it?"
You avoid her eyes, staring down at your fingers instead. "How could you tell?"
"Because you wanted to reconnect with your brother. I don't think a single session's gone by where you haven't mentioned him, or your parents, at least once. I'm just glad it's positive this time. You've come a long way already, Heinz. I'm proud of you."
All you can do is nod, throat dry. Has anyone ever been proud of you before? Maybe Perry the Platypus, but he's never said it so you can't be sure. Vanessa...
"Family isn't just the people who raise us, you know," she says, in a soft voice. "Sometimes it's the people you choose to surround yourself with. Like your friend, the one who always waits out there for you. Perry, was it?"
"Nemesis," you correct her, smiling at the thought. "He's my nemesis, and- and I guess he is family, huh."
She nods. "Maybe you should tell him that."
1.
It's reassuring to hear his knock at the door, and not for the reasons it used to be. These days, his only purpose here is to keep you company, of his own free will, his cute little hand in yours. It's nice.
So nice, in fact, that you have a scheme for him today, just like old times. Not an Evil one, you've put that behind you, but still a scheme.
Opening the door, you grin at him, buzzing with anticipation. "Glad you could make it! Come on in, sit down, make yourself at home. Can I get you something? Tea? Tea, okay, I'll go make that for you." It'll give you time to pull yourself together.
He's always been there for you, you remind yourself. By your side. Your rock, and you can't imagine a better nemesis.
That's why you're doing this.
Humming to yourself, you make his tea just how he likes it, hand in your pocket to reassure yourself the small box is still there. You've spent so long planning this.
When you return with the tea, you sink down to one knee to set it gently on the small table beside him, a perfect match to the platypus-sized armchair he always sits in. You couldn't leave your only guest to use furniture that's too big for him, after all.
"Don't look at me like that," you protest at his glare of suspicion, your fingers curling around the box again. Will he accept? He might, if you're lucky.
After all, he's always been here for you. As a nemesis, as an audience, as a friend. He gave you a reason to keep going when you thought you had nothing left. Something to strive for, every day, whether it's taking over the Tri-State Area or rebuilding your family. He gave you purpose, he gave you meaning, he even gave you his hand when you asked that one time. And now it's time to ask for one more thing.
You blink away tears, pulling out the box. It's teal, like his handsome fur, fitting neatly into the palm of your hand. "Perry the Platypus, will you marry me?" you whisper, and open it.
Eyes wide, he stares at you, then the ring, and back. You know what he's seeing. Plain gold, because you didn't know what he liked and didn't want to get it wrong, and... you. His nemesis. Heinz Doofenshmirtz, divorcee, ex-evil scientist, on one knee to propose marriage.
"I know what you're thinking," you say, even though you have no idea at all. "That it's a trap. That's kind of my thing, traps. And it is a trap, because... because I like having you in my life and I don't know how else to keep you around. It's not like you can thwart me now that I'm not Evil any more. I don't know how much longer I'll get before you have to leave, and at least this way your agency can't take you away from me."
No response. He's not reacting, and you bite your lip. Did you misjudge your relationship? It wouldn't be the first time you've ruined a good thing with feelings, but you can't stop now.
Sniffling, you close your eyes to hold back the tears, and keep going. "A-and I don't want to be a Doofenshmirtz any more." You've seen the legacy of Doofenshmirtzes, pain and hurt passed down through generations, and you don't know any other way to escape it. At least if he gives you his name you could make a new start. "I never asked for- My parents- I don't want- They're not my family, Perry the Platypus, you are. So... how about it?"
He's still not saying anything. Of course not, he doesn't talk, so you open your eyes, just as he takes your head in his hands. Then he presses his bill to your lips, soft and sweet and brief and-
Since when has he wanted to kiss you?
"What are you trying to say?" you say, jerking back, voice cracking. He can't mean that, can he? "Is this a joke?" Who would want to kiss you?
Folding his arms, he glares at you, indignant. Him, apparently.
You wince. "So you did mean it? You- you took me by surprise, is all. I wasn't expecting, well-" That he might want to kiss you. "I don't mind. It's- I mean- it's nice. To know you care. You mean so much to me, and I- I'm sorry. For hurting you, I shouldn't have- I always wanted- Can I start over?"
Letting out a sigh, he lets his arms fall to his sides, resting his head on your shoulder. You're forgiven. A breath later, he steps back with a smile as soft as his fur and nods.
"So." You lick your lips, nervous. "Will you marry me, Perry the Platypus?"
He offers you his little hand, palm down and fingers spread. When you blink in surprise, he gives you a look to go with it, like he's waiting for something. Expectant.
Fine. You can take a hint. Pulling the ring from its box, you take his hand, sliding the thin gold band onto his finger. "It suits you," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his knuckle. Because it does, bright against his teal fur. "Thank you, Perry the Platypus. For everything."
The only response he gives is to kiss you again. This time, you don't pull away.
AN: Reviews appreciated!
