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When she woke up to a splitting headache, she was 110% ready to go back to sleep (unless the Shopkeeper called). Never let it be said that she wasn’t capable of redirecting her anger.
“Yor, you’re awake!” Except she couldn’t possibly go back to sleep when Yuri sounded so worried. Even if the minute she opened her eyes, she wanted to close them and hide away from the piercing light. She settled for a compromise, covering her eyes with her arm—and noticed her arm was sluggish and sore.
“Yuri, am I hungover?” Not that she’d been this badly hungover in years, but it would explain a lot. Like not remembering what she did last night to induce such a state.
Despite her arm blocking out her vision, she could still tell Yuri had affixed her with the same discerning gaze as whenever he tried to figure out her secret assassin job. “Sis,” he began gently, as if approaching a spooked animal, but she detected a sense of urgency underneath, “what do you remember from last night?” While she mulled over the answer and what to tell her brother—she didn’t want to worry him too much if she was on a job, after all—a knock on the doorframe saved her from answering the question.
“Excuse me, now that you’re awake, do you mind if I ask you a few questions to check on your condition?” Yor lifted her arm to peek out from underneath, taking in the man in a white coat holding a clipboard—a doctor, so she was in the hospital—in the doorframe. Considering she was in a hospital bed and Yuri was in the seat next to her, he was probably talking to her. “Also sir, may I ask that you leave the room for a moment?”
Yuri looked ready to protest—oh, right, he didn’t know she was perfectly capable of defending herself if there was anything shady about the doctor...at least they were already in a hospital if he needed medical attention, though—but once she shot him a reassuring smile, he acquiesced with only mild grumbling.
“Hello ma’am, I’m Dr. Mike Rowesoft, and I’m going to perform a few preliminary concussion tests. Is that okay with you?” At her nod, he pulled out a pen. “First, I’m going to shine this light into your eyes, okay?”
After a few other tests and asking how she felt, he hummed. “I think I can rule out a concussion, but I’d like to go over some additional questions just to make sure you’re good to go home. Can you tell me your name?”
Well, that was a relief, but still didn’t explain what she was doing the night before. A possible concussion—she didn’t get injured on the job, did she? The last thing she wanted was for her job to be exposed. “Yor Briar.” The doctor noticeably paused in writing. Well, it was an easy question, so he probably didn’t need to write down her name since he already knew it.
“Your birthday and address?” he continued. At her answer, his mild expression didn’t change. “And what do you think today’s date is?”
She paused, then looked to the clock on the wall across her as if it might help her. 10:42, the arms read, providing no other information. She never really paid attention to the days in particular, except for when it pertained to knowing her office job schedule. Otherwise, they all blended in just like her workplace and studio apartment were starting to do. “Well, since I’m 27, I know the year at least,” she tried to respond light heartedly.
She didn’t even remember what season it was. It never mattered for killing though—she wore the same dress regardless and never had to worry about the cold (not when it permeated her life, and even the warm blood that stained her hands cooled quickly anyway).
Dr. Rowesoft hardly seemed convinced, and looked at her with something akin to pity. “It seems you have some slight short-term amnesia. It should pass within a few hours, at most a few days. I’ll let your brother and your husband know that they can come visit you, if you’re alright with that?” All of a sudden, her brain ground to a halt.
“Pardon me, you said husband?” Maybe she did have a concussion. Or a hearing issue.
“Yes, Dr. Loid Forger. He’s a psychiatrist here, and should be here soon after finishing up his research.” Dr. Rowesoft answered blithely, as if this factoid concerned him the least out of everything they spoke about so far.
“So, so I’m Yor Forger?” she probed and pushed down the rising panic, because the least he could have done was say something when she said her name was Yor Briar. What a shock her... husband would have gotten if he were waiting with Yuri for her to wake up, only to realize she didn’t remember him at all! It...was such a baffling concept, that she would have gotten married when she was so used to living alone. What if her employer called? But then Yuri had always probed about if she’d entered a relationship. Maybe she had eventually agreed to meet someone.
“Well, although you’ve been married for a year, you only recently changed your name and residence.” Forgetting an entire year (and acquaintanceship? Dating? For however long before marriage?) didn’t sound like short-term amnesia to her. “—well-rested, and for at least two days, avoid watching TV, which will be tough, since I hear your daughter loves to watch cartoons—” Now add a daughter to the list of family members she forgot. And when was somebody going to tell her what she was even doing last night?
“Ma’am, would you like me to inform your family about your amnesia and recovery instructions?” he asked. That would be...bad, in Yuri overreacting, but considering she tuned out the instructions, it might be necessary...but wait, if her husband was a doctor, surely it’d be fine.
“Ah, please don’t, I don’t want to worry them. It’ll pass soon enough, right?” It had to. She’d have guessed she wouldn’t recall the past months, not an entire year, including a lifestyle change. This married Yor Forger sounded like a completely different person—would Yuri and this Loid person be able to tell the difference? Did she call him by a nickname? Darling? Loiloi? Lottie?
Dr. Rowesoft nodded while standing up, “Of course, I understand. It’s your decision whether you want them to know or not. I’ll get started on that time off note for your employer. Do give us a call if you experience new or worsening symptoms, though. I’ll let them know you’re ready for visitors now.”
Visitors. One of whom was her husband, apparently. Her headache had only slightly abated, but she just wanted to sleep and had no energy to improvise acting. What kind of person was he? The only person she ever considered important was Yuri, who she took care of for most of her life. Now that category had tripled to include a husband and daughter?
No sooner had Dr. Rowesoft left before Yuri was back in the room, fretting over her. Now she had some information to reassure him—surely it was hard for him as a ministry elite to find time off work. No, she wasn’t hurt. Yes, she was fine, really, the doctor said she didn’t have a concussion but to rest for the next few days anyway.
“Yuri, I hardly get to see you anyway, I don’t want you spending the entire time worrying about me.” This stopped the pseudo interrogation, though she wasn’t sure what to make of his mood shift.
“Is that why you’ve been asking Camilla to help you cook? I could learn and teach you! You know I want to repay you for your sacrifices to raise me.” Camilla? Since when was she on such close terms with her coworkers?
“...that woman! And to think if it weren’t for Dominic...but it’s really that man’s fault for you cooking in the first place—”
A brisk knock on the doorframe interrupted Yuri’s heated rambling. “Sorry to interrupt, but I didn’t want to startle you. It’s getting quite late, so I figured we ought to go home for dinner, although Anya’s probably asleep so there’s no rush. As always, you’re welcome to join, Yuri.” The man (tall, blond, well dressed, fit, although she could take him down easily if need be—) must be Loid Forger, her husband.
Yuri saved her from having to speak, “As if I’d want to eat anything cooked by you, or meet your hellspawn again!”
The barb didn’t even make Loid blink, and Yor was glad to see they got along. Yuri was usually so reserved around other people, but here he was so expressive in a way he hardly ever showed to her. “Well, if you ever change your mind, it’s an open invitation, as always.” There seemed little reason to be suspicious about this person.
Yor knew she went through the motions of discharging, receiving a bunch of paperwork, presenting a bunch of paperwork, and retrieving her belongings, but if probed for specifics, she’d be for a loss.
She also tried to pay attention to the car ride from Berlint General Hospital to (re)familiarize herself with the area, but it felt she had only blinked before being led out of the taxi. Luckily, Loid seemed content with giving her space for the time being, not pressing her or doing anything that might have crossed any new boundaries.
The neighborhood was a nice one, a little more upscale than the one she lived in previously. Loid greeted all their neighbors in the hall by name (3 new names and faces blurring together) and something in her churned at the hints of socialite workings. She wasn’t even sure she knew all her neighbors’ faces back at her old apartment (although that probably had more to do with her late work hours, but even so).
She stopped in the doorway, midway through taking her coat off. “You can just relax and have a seat, I'll get you tea and some aspirin if you’d like?” She didn’t answer him, eyes fixated on the small girl and the large dog curled around her right in front of the entryway. She was surprised by the pink hair, yes, but was mostly taking in how small she was. She still remembered accidentally crushing two of Yuri’s ribs when they were both young—and now this child seemed even younger and ever so more fragile.
“Oh, Anya must have fallen asleep trying to stay up waiting for you. She was very worried about you, you know. I’m glad she’s taken to you so much. I’m not sure what I would’ve done otherwise,” Loid chuckled lightly. Her hunch was that Anya seemed to be a child from Loid’s previous marriage, given that comment and her age.
Yor’s never picked up a child before (Yuri was always better about sleeping habits than her, after all), but maybe muscle memory would kick in. Throwing around grown men was so easy, and Anya was so small and light in comparison, but didn’t stir in her arms. “Er, Loid.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “Should I take her to her room?”
She could have sworn she saw his expression soften for a moment, but it wasn’t like she remembered his facial habits, so it must have been her headache-induced imagination. “If you don’t mind, please. I’m almost done with dinner, if you’re up to eat something light.”
Yor took that as an opportunity to snoop around the apartment (was it snooping if she lived there?). The woman in the family photos in the living room looked like a stranger with her face. Having never been in a relationship before, it was strange to see herself so intimately close with someone else. The name placards helpfully informed her where to tuck Anya in, but also confusingly (interestingly) suggested that she and Loid slept in separate rooms. She didn’t dare enter his room, but a cursory glance at hers showed it looked much like her set up when she lived alone.
Returning to the living room, she figured she may as well make herself useful and tidy up the strew of newspapers, comic books, and papers (drawings?) on the coffee table in the meantime.
“Ah—” Yor jolted and turned around, surprised at having been caught off guard by his voice. Had she even heard his footsteps? This headache was really troublesome. “Really Yor, you don’t have to clean up my mess, sorry for leaving it everywhere. And here, some aspirin if you’d like.” She traded with him gratefully and watched him hastily but orderly collect separate piles and reorder the books on the shelf.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep…” she trailed off.
“No, it’s not your fault at all. I was careless and shouldn’t have left files with patient information just lying around so freely.” Ah right, he worked as a doctor. Even better that she wasn’t looking too carefully then.
Dinner was a quiet—although somewhat stilted—affair. Again was that feeling of not being pressured to fill the silence, and she thought he stared for a few seconds too long at the teaspoon she placed on the coffee table after she was done. Then she saw how his own stirring spoon was on his plate, and surreptitiously moved hers to match. She’d make sure to wipe the table later.
She tried to argue to do the dishes, especially since he had cooked a nice dinner for her, to which he argued back that she was surely feeling tired and should sleep and usually cleaned up anyway. It was another tidbit of information she tucked away about Yor Forger and her relationship with her husband, this kind, earnest man with no reason to care so much for her—.
She only stood for a second more as he focused on washing the dishes before she pulled together the scraps of her resolve to bid, “Then, good night, Loid.” A pause where she almost chickened out, but they’ve been married for a year, so it would be weirder if she didn’t say it, right? “I love you.”
clang
No memories notwithstanding, she was pretty sure such a blank, dumbfounded expression wasn’t a normal reaction. It could have been a coincidence that the dish slipped out of his hands at that moment. Or maybe it was the delivery; he was probably wondering what brought such a random statement on. She ignored the flushed feeling spreading all the way to her ears, “I-I meant, I love your cooking, I appreciate you doing that, thankyougoodnight!”
A quick tactical retreat had her back in her room, away from feeling like a fish out of water.
She felt like a stranger, a guest in the Forger residence. She woke up to the sound of running water, and found Loid’s, Anya’s, and the bathroom door all closed. The moment of privacy did give her the opportunity to call the Shopkeeper, though.
“Ah, Shopkeeper, I just wanted to check...did I already tell you about my marriage?”
A chuckle. “Is this about keeping your story straight with your brother?”
“My...story?”
“Yes, you got married to avoid suspicion from the SSS but didn’t want your brother to worry over you marrying someone you didn’t love. But you’ve already cleared it with us, and it won’t interfere with your job. Anything else?”
She ended the call in a daze. ‘Marrying someone she didn’t love,’ so that must have been why Loid was so surprised the previous night. That might have even been the first time she ever said that phrase to him (other than...when they got married?). Was she just stringing Loid and his feelings along?? After all, she had at one point posed for lovey-dovey photos with him! Despite that, he kept his distance and didn’t so much as lay a single hand on her.
Behind her, a door opened.
“Good morning Yor, sorry, I didn’t mean to make you wait. You could have knocked, you know, but the bathroom’s all yours now.” So there were moments where they shared the bathroom? “And if Anya’s not awake by the time you’re done, would you mind waking her up?” He didn’t say anything about her slip up last night. She was content to follow suit.
“It’s not a problem, and of course!” Well, she was pretty good at putting people to sleep, but waking someone up...talking to her? Surely poking her would work. But when she picked up Anya last night, she didn’t wake up at all. Yuri trying to shake her awake never worked out well for either of them...
Luckily, a thudding noise against the bathroom door alerted her to Anya having woken up on her own, after which she splashed her face with water. Yor was very tempted to move Anya’s sleep hat out of the way to keep it dry, but didn’t want to topple her over.
“G’mo nin, Ma,” Anya mumbled, then paused, staring at her. Was there something on her face? Or was there a morning ritual between Anya and Yor Forger that she was missing?
“Here, your face is still wet, let me help,” Anya’s hands that clung to her shirt were so small, and her eyes so trusting. The last person who looked at her like that was Yuri when he was younger.
She and Anya left the bathroom to see the table set, ready with breakfast for three. Loid cooked again...she couldn’t help but remember Yuri’s throwaway comment about cooking at the hospital, and her own embarrassing comment last night. While she fought down the rising blush and urge to hide her face, a welcome distraction from her thoughts came in a tug on her sleeve.
“Ma, breakfast?” How could she say no to those eyes?
Breakfast passed comfortably, more or less. She sat last, unsure of where her normal seat was, and Anya had scootched her chair to sit closer to her. Yor wondered at how she wasn’t sitting on the other side as the odd one out, as well as the dog sitting next to each one of them in succession, hoping to be slipped a bite of food. The conversation flowed without feeling like an interrogation (well, barring Anya’s recent test scores?).
“Thanks for making breakfast, Loid, it was delicious. I’ll clean up, since I don’t have work today.” She reached over—to test her hypothesis? To enact her grand change?—and tentatively laid her hand on his forearm (she couldn’t bring herself to take his hand, closer though it was). He jumped at the contact like a spooked animal, banging his knee against the table in the process.
She drew her hand back quickly (she should’ve asked first before invading his personal space—or maybe she’s broken his ribs before, too, and traumatized him) and stood up, hovering, “Sorry, are you okay?”
He plastered an easygoing smile onto his face, but Anya beat him from answering.
“Are Ma and Pa gonna kiss?” Yor almost gave herself whiplash and took back her words from earlier. She could definitely say no to those glimmering eyes. But it brought up the question, was kissing something they usually did? Was her theory completely off base the entire time?
“No!” Loid choked out, looking distinctly too rattled far too early in the morning. Yor knew the feeling. If only to spare her fumbling, let alone Loid’s feelings, she desperately wanted to remember how their lives fit together before.
Silence reigned. “Ma,” Anya tugged on her sleeve again, other hand extended up. “Walk me to the bus?”
Loid cleared his throat and regained his composure, “Anya’s right, we should get going.” And so, the incident was quickly swept away. But not out of her mind.
If there was one thing she was good at, it was cleaning up. She was surprised to see the kitchen, like her bedroom, was very familiar to her. Her own towels and fine dining set were hanging from and in the cabinet.
The contents of the refrigerator? Not so much. As long as she was getting all her nutrients, she wasn’t picky. Like not caring if she got egg shells or fruit peels everywhere. Or bone shards.
Yor paused and set down the dish she was drying. She could almost still feel and smell the blood on her hands. Loid and Anya surely didn’t know what her hands had done. Maybe that was why Loid was accustomed to physical space between them.
Before, she had only cared for her brother. Though that circle had suddenly expanded, she wasn’t too terribly opposed to it. Without the relevant memories, she felt like a stranger in her own home, but she didn’t feel unwelcome. It was...nice.
When she was almost finished cleaning up, she found a note in unfamiliar handwriting. Hand writings. Camilla apologized for not supervising her and preventing her cooking accident? Well wishes for her health from her other coworkers at the office, and reassurances that if her husband didn’t like her cooking, he didn’t deserve her. It was hard to imagine these words coming from those people. Or cooking.
She took another look at her hands and noticed marks other than the calluses from wielding her knives. Ah yes, she got that burn scar from the hot oil that time Camilla tried to show her how to—
Bond whuffed quietly and shuffled over to the door right before Yor heard keys ease the lock and door open. Loid must have been thrown off, not knowing what was up with her strange behavior. Should she apologize and explain? What if it made him think she was breaking their agreement and he wanted to divorce?
“Yor, I brought you some cake to help you feel better. I just wanted to remind you that here, you’re safe and can just be yourself. You’ve been through a lot when you were working to support your brother—” How could she have forgotten that this man understood her? Accepted her despite (because of) her quirks.
“Loid, thank you, but first I think you should know I forgot everything yesterday.” His face suddenly looked very exhausted, and he absently pushed Bond away from the food. “I hit my head while cooking at Camilla’s and forgot the past few months, so I forgot about our...arrangement. So I thought I had to be...well, even more of a real wife than usual.”
At her explanation, his shoulders slackened. “You don’t have to act like how you think people want you to, although I guess you forgot the first time we’ve been over this. And I’ll say it again, we’re here to support you too, and I’ll say it as many times as you want. Especially if you forget again.” He chuckled mirthlessly.
“Why would I forget again?” Something about his expression suggested it wasn’t very hypothetical.
“Well, when you’re drunk…” He had the audacity to side eye her and shoot a smirk in her direction. Well, if he was joking about it, then…
“Loid, I just want you to know…” she paused to make sure she had his full attention. “I love you…” He flinched again. The urge to giggle was stronger than the one to blush, but she resisted both. (Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.)
“...r family.” He relaxed, then smiled warmly. Ah, she was right earlier, his eyes did soften the night time.
“Our family. We’re just as much your family too, Yor.”