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Chapter Text

         This type of fear was one that he had not felt in a very, very long time. He was never scared. He could be nervous, as his anxious stomach revealed, he could be a bit spooked (even spies had their old lingering childhood fears of something, as for Loid he would be lying if he said that snakes didn’t still send a shiver down his spine). 

        Terror however was something that he had long since pushed out of his consciousness. That was, until today. 

        What made this fear even worse was the other emotions underlying it, the helplessness, the anger, and most of all, the guilt. He was the world's best spy, always coming up with a million scenarios and forming the perfect plan to come out on top of each and every one. This was one that he had never suspected, he couldn’t be prepared for this. 

           “Loid? Have you called the school yet? Maybe she’s just asleep in a classroom somewhere!” His wife's voice was laced with fear, and he could see how her eyes were darting around, shoulders tense, jaw set. 

     Yor was panicking. 

      He had to keep it together, for hers and Anya’s sake. After all, if Anya was truly missing, then she needed him more than ever. Loid Forger, no, Twilight would stop at nothing to find his missing daughter.

           Nothing. 

                                                                                                              ********

           The day had started out normal enough. They had sent Anya on her way to Eden college, he had walked Yor part of the way to her office, and then they seperated. Him apparently on his way to the hospital, her to the normal office job. There was no hospital job, because there was no Loid Forger, not really. Instead Twilight had yet another extra mission. This one was fairly simple, he had to stake out an enemy politician and gather intel on his possible plans for a weapons deal. No such deal ever happened, and the mission completed in an utterly boring way, with the politician using the abnormally large sum of money on gambling and several, well, “lady friends.” 

             Loid scoffed in disgust, setting aside his earpiece and camera.  Typical scum man, wasting his time with these stupid tips that ended up being nothing more than an unfaithful spouse. 

             Speaking of which, he glanced at his clock and swore under his breath. He was late. Anya would have already gotten off the school bus, and he knew Yor had a meeting that might run late. Anya was at home alone

              That thought alone made him hurry and set aside his camera, that girl was always getting into trouble and there was no telling what she was getting into now. At best, she was ignoring her homework and watching her cartoons. At worst, well, he hoped that there was still an apartment left standing.  

              Loid snapped his briefcase shut, and hurried down from the roof where he had been staked out all day. If he was lucky, he would be able to catch a taxi that would get him home just in time to be there when Yor arrived. It wouldn’t do to have her thinking of him as a poor father, he had to keep up appearances after all. 

             One hasty taxi ride later, and Loid was knocking on the apartment door before entering. The door was locked, which made him relieved that at least Anya had learned her lesson about keeping the door secure and locked when she was home, especially when she was home alone. 

              It was quiet. No Tv, no snoring, no sounds of playing from her room. Nothing. 

              A slight chill went down his spine, which he did his best to ignore. Like most parents he knew that it wasn't the rowdyness he had to worry about with children, instead it was when things were quiet. She must have been asleep in her room, he reminded himself. 

             “Anya? Anya, I’m home.” 

             Nothing, no reply. Loid began to walk through the house, frowning. Something was wrong, he couldn’t place it yet. 

             Her shoes. 

             Her shoes weren’t by the door. 

              She always kicked off her shoes right by the door, always complaining that they pinched her toes and were too stuffy to run in. 

              Where were her shoes? 

               Perhaps a bit more frantic now, Loid opened doors in the apartment, “Anya? Anya? Anya come out right now! ”

               The only response came from Bond, coming from his kennel in the corner to merely whimper at his feet. No one had fed him yet. That was Anya's job, as soon as she came home.  

               “Loid? What's wrong?”

                Yor stood in the doorway, head cocked to the side, her coat not even hung up yet. For once, the spy of a million faces must have shown his fear on his face, for Yor too began to glance around. 

               “Loid. Where’s Anya?” Yor stated, voice still and strained. 

              “She wasn’t here when I came in. Yor, her, her shoes aren’t here. Anya isn’t here.” He would have liked to say that the panic seeping into his voice was an act to keep up the appearances of the stressed father, but it was far too real.

               Yor dropped her coat onto a seat, and quickly joined the search, even checking the balcony and the alley from the bathroom window. Nothing. 

              Okay, they couldn’t panic yet. They had to be smart, calm, and collected. Anya could be a bit, well let's say, impulsive, but she wouldn’t run off for no reason. 

              “Loid, maybe, maybe she's still at school, asleep in a classroom!”

              Yes, that was perfectly logical. That had to be the truth, because the alternative, that Anya was missing. Well, that long forgotten terror was making him taste bile at the back of his throat. 

              “Yes, yes, of course. Of course. No need to panic, I will call the school.” 

               Loid stepped towards the phone, it took him three times to be able to dial the number properly. Why were his hands shaking? They never shook, why now? Now of all times? Time was wasting. They had to find her. 

             “Hello, yes, this is Loid Forger, can someone please tell me if Anya is there?”

             “No?”

             “She…You’re sure then? Are you positive that she got on the bus?”

             “Yes, yes please call the busdriver in, we need to know where she got off.” 

            “Absolutely, thank you, please call me if you have any information. Thank you.” 

             He set the phone down, his hands still shaking, and that acidic bile once again rising. Loid raised his head, looking to Yor. Yor, who was white as a sheet and gripping onto the seat beside her.

             “I’m going out. Yor, stay here in case Anya comes back.”  Loid stated, already heading to the door, feet moving faster than his thoughts could keep up. 

              His wife, somewhat shakily, nodded her head. “I will man the phone as well, I will call everyone I know! Maybe she went to visit Yuri!”

              Yuri would only complicate things, if he got involved with his secret police friends. No, it was for the mission, it was worth the risk. No, it was for Anya, who was certainly worth the risk. 

             “Yes, please do. Also please call the hospitals, see if maybe she was injured and taken there.” 

             He could handle an injured Anya. He could handle that, they both could. They would find her in the hospital, probably bugging the nurses half to death. They would scold her for whatever it was that sent her to the hospital, and maybe, just maybe he would be convinced to get her some ice cream from the cafeteria. That had to be the case. 

             Without another word, he stepped out into the frigid December air without so much as putting on a coat. Yor didn’t stop him either, too busy with making frantic phone calls. 

             An hour later, and nothing. 

             No trace, no hints, nothing. He had searched through the streets, examining the walkway to their apartment. The outside complex, the sidewalk. Any sign of her, any ribbon from her hair, any lost pencil or spy wars merchandise dropped from her backpack. There was nothing to be found.

            Loid entered the house, the wave of tension hitting him like a brick wall. There wasn't the happy sounds of Yor perhaps scolding Anya for scaring them before making her hot coco, there was no such sound. There was only the sound of Yor, dialing yet another number. 

             “Yor. Who are you calling now?”

              Had she been at this the entire time he was gone?

              Yor for her part, set down the phone, nodding. 

              “I called everyone I know Loid, I promise. No one has seen Anya. No one.” That panic was once again weaving its way through her voice, it was clear that she was choking back tears. 

              This was bad. They couldn't waste another minute, they-

              “I'm sorry. Oh Loid I’m so sorry!”

              Yor was crying. He couldn't remember the last time he saw those tears, or if he had even ever seen any that was this, this raw. A shaky hand went to her shoulder, gripping it tightly. 

              “Why are you apologizing?”

              “I should have skipped the meeting! I should have come back right away, maybe then, maybe then we could have started looking for her sooner.”

              A wave of guilt rolled over him. Yor was blaming herself, thinking that he had been waiting for her arrival to start searching. That wasn't the truth at all though. No, the blame lay on him. 

             He was a bad husband, and an even worse father. 

              “No, No Yor, it’s not your fault.” Loud glanced away in shame, taking a deep breath before mustering the courage to state the bitter truth. 

              “I was late.”

              Yor stiffened, then turned on him, quick rage glinting in her eyes. Loid remembered briefly that in times of crisis, it was common for parents to turn on each other. He had to stop this, he had to keep them both calm. 

             “Yor, I-”

             “You were late ?” Yor hissed, and the sound was enough to make him recoil. 

             “I, well Yor, I-”

            “You left Anya here… Alone?” Yor left behind the hiss, and transformed that accusation into a growl. 

            He deserved this. She was right, this was all his fault. If only he had finished his mission sooner, if he had made sure that someone was at home to receive Anya, if-

            No. 

            If this, if that, they would do no good. 

            “Yor, you have every right to be angry at me. I deserve this anger, and if you want to remain angry at me, I understand. Now though, I am going to do everything in my power to bring our girl home.”

            Yor didn’t respond, only turning to slide on her coat. 

           “I'm going out to look for Anya.” Gone was the growl, Yor spoke with a cool rage. 

           “Yor-”

          She turned on him, Loid wincing at the pure rage written plainly across her face. 

          “I don’t care if I have to tear this city apart brick by brick, I am finding Anya.”

           Without so much as another word, his fake wife, Yor Forger, left the apartment and Loid. He had to fix this, and now. Before any harm came to his cover, his mission, his family . He had to rescue his daughter. No more voices of “for the mission” entered his mind. This was his new mission, his new purpose. Find his daughter and be the father and husband that Yor and Anya deserved. With a resolve that had eluded him only an hour earlier, he dialed the most familiar number. 

          “Frankie, I need your help.”

           A short and gruff laugh came from the receiver. 

          “Well buddy you are running up a large tab, I-”

          “Anya is missing.”

          Silence, the sound of shifting fabric, and then a smaller voice than he had ever heard the man produce. 

          “Excuse me?”

          “Anya is missing. Her school sent her home on the bus, and she hasn’t come home yet, I need-”

          “I’m accessing police cameras now, I’ll contact all my other informants, and I’ll come over there to start a base camp. Give me thirty.” 

          The phone clicked, and Loid was left listening to the dial tone. 

          He set the phone down, wiping his face with his hand. He had no composure left, he felt that fear rising, and it had no intention of going away until he was drowning in it.  He made calls after endless calls then, to WISE, to other agents, even to Nightfall. 

          For one moment he saw hope as the phone rang, and it was the headmaster on the other end, surely this was good news, but no, something was wrong. He was pausing, he was clearing his throat. He was about to give bad news. 

          “Forger, I am ashamed to admit this, but.”

          Another cough. 

         “The bus driver let Anya off at her normal stop, outside your house, but apparently another adult came by and started to talk with Anya. He didn't suspect anything was wrong, and he drove away. 

         “He what?!” Loid had to work hard to keep from shouting, from shaking the phone, it was incredibly hard to keep his cool. 

         “He drove away. I am ashamed, Forger if there’s anything Eden can do-”

         “No, you’ve done enough.”

         Loid slammed down the phone, suddenly sucking in breath after breath. Was he having a heart attack? Was the stress finally getting to him? No, that wasn’t it at all. 

         Panic. 

         He was having a panic attack. 

         It wasn’t fair to take it out on Henderson, because deep down he knew who was truly to blame. She was right there . If he had been home as he was supposed to be, he would have seen it happen. He would have been able to stop the man, the man that took. Calm, he had to remain calm. 

         The man that took Anya. 

         The bus driver, he had to interrogate the bus driver. Get every hint, every clue, every answer that he could squeeze out of that coward. 

        Why then, could he not move? 

         Pathetic. 

         He was pathetic. 

         He couldn't even finish his mission in time to be home for Anya, and now he couldn’t even move, couldn’t even breathe right. 

         “Loid?”

          Frantic eyes snapped to the door, hoping with every wild hope that he would see Anya there. No, no, it was only Frankie. His only consolation was that he appeared as panicked and disheveled as he currently felt. Frankie went to him, not even bothering to take his shoes off, and Loid not caring a damn about his clean carpet. 

          A stack of photos slammed down on the coffee table. 

          “She went with a man. Why would she do that Loid? Didn’t you teach her stranger danger?!”

          There it was, his worst nightmare confirmed. Anya, looking down at the ground as if being instructed to do so, and a man, a stranger, was holding her hand. Too tight, he was holding it too tight, her hand was turning white at the fingertips. 

          He was hurting his daughter. 

          It was amazing how quickly his panic, his helplessness and guilt shifted to another primal emotion. 

         Anger. 

         Rage. 

         The need to protect, to save, to find the man who dared to lay a finger on Anya. 

        “Who? Who is this?”

        Frankie huffed, sitting down on the couch with his head in his hands. 

        “No idea. He kept his face away from all the security cameras. He knew where they were Loid. He must have been looking for this chance, he knew exactly how to get her, when the bus arrived.”

        Here he spread the stack of photos, Loid quickly scanning the scene and the time stamps. 

        Indeed it showed Anya talking to him, then he took her hand, and just like that they were gone. 

        “Before you ask, that's all I have. I checked every camera, but nothing else came up. It’s like he just.” Frankie paused, running a hand through his shaggy hair.

        “Disappeared into thin air.”

        How Loid hated that phrase, because no matter what people hoped, it was true that people could disappear like that. He would know that better than anyone else. It was his job after all. 

        “No. We are finding her.”

        The door clicked, and they started, not even bothering to hide the photos. 

         It was Yor, her nose red with the cold, and eyes rimmed red. She placed her coat on its stand, and sat down on the couch furthest from Loid. No one spoke, because there was no need. Anya was missing, and they had no idea where to find her. 

                                                                                                                   ********

        Loid never really gave much thought to the concept of God, Heaven and Hell. Perhaps he should have, because he was certain of one truth. 

        He was in Hell. 

        Despite WISE’s best agents on the job alongside Twilight, despite Yuri’s underhanded search, Frankies information, Yor’s endless searches through the city, and his own espionage, they were stuck. It had been a week since anyone had last seen Anya. The school called and checked in, always offering help that was worthless to Loid. Worthless to Anya. People might have wondered why he didn’t report the incident to the police, so he was sure to have WISE send undercover agents dressed as police to interview the school and keep up appearances that everything was normal. 

         Nothing was normal, Anya was missing, and he had no damn clue where she was, or even if she was-

         No. 

         Food. Sleep. Rest.

         When was the last time he allowed himself those luxuries? 

         No, he didn’t deserve them. Who knew what Anya was going through, it was his duty to find her, to-”

         “Eat Loid.”

         A small plate was suddenly in front of him. Bread, cheese and ham, plus a small glass of water. 

         Right, the Handler. He was in a briefing with the Handler. 

        “It’s been ages since you ate Twilight, hasn’t it?”

         How could she understand, how could anyone understand? He was in Hell, he was being punished. Water was bitter, food tasted like chalk and ash. Sleep evaded him, and even when sheer exhaustion made him collapse it was never a restful sleep. All he could see in his dreams was that man's hand, gripping too tightly onto Anya’s. He stared at the food in front of him, already tasting the bile that always seemed to want to rise as of late. 

        "Eat, and that’s an order.”

        Loid raised his head, was his vision always this…Swimmy? He rubbed his eyes, and perhaps a bit too hard pushed the plate away from him. 

        “What news do you have of Anya?”

         If his off-putting nature bothered her, the Handler didn’t show it. She calmly slid the plate back, a scraping sound ringing across the metal table. He could hear the seconds ticking away on the grandfather clock on the wall beside him, mocking him as every tick meant another second wasted.

         “I know.” 

         “What, what do you know?”

         “What you're going through Twilight.” 

         He had to laugh. Maybe he was finally cracking under the pressure. 

         “How in the hell could you know what we, what I am going through right now? I have utterly failed. This is my fault, and now Anya-”

        Another soft thud upon the table. A wallet, open to a small picture, almost faded, that showed a young toddler beaming up in a ridiculously frilly dress. 

        “That’s Eliza. I lost her when she was three. This picture was taken right before that. I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, all I did was wallow in my misery. I am not saying it’s wrong to feel the way you do Twilight, but you still have a chance of Anya coming back to you. So eat, for her sake.”

         Deafening silence, and then, a soft scrape of a fork across the plate. 

         A bite of ashy ham, a nibble of sour cheese, a drink of bitter water. He was right, nothing tasted right, but it was food. It was energy. He would keep his energy up. This mission wasn’t over just yet. Not by a long shot. 

                                                                                                             ********

           By day eight, hour eleven since Anya went missing, Yor was waiting for a miracle. Anything would do. A clue, a hint, she barely dared to dream of Anya walking through that door with her bright smile, prancing manner, shouting out for mama, mama. 

           Yor clutched her coat tighter, gritting her teeth. 

            Tears were worthless. She had to keep moving, had to keep searching. She went to every park they had ever been to, twice. The candy shop three times. The school at least eleven. The tailors five times. The pet shop three times. The bakery twice. The hospital once. 

            Day by day, in an endless cycle, she walked. 

            Would she ever quit walking? 

            Yor was always scared of ghosts, something about the dead hanging around to torment the living had always scared her, perhaps because a part of her feared it was true. Now that part of her no longer feared this possibility, because she knew that it was true. 

            How many people had perished at the end of her knife? Of her dagger? How many lives had she snuffed out like a candle in order to preserve her precious “job.” 

             Too many to count. Now they were exacting their revenge. Nothing they would have done to her would truly hurt her. She could have died and that wouldn't even come close to the anguish she carried with her in this moment. She remembered ghost stories about wailing women, forever weeping over a lost child, always searching for a child that would never come home. 

             Sometimes, she felt like those ghosts, people didn't even seem to see her. People looked through her. 

             Why weren't they searching for Anya? 

              This wasn't right, how could the birds still sing, how could people smile and laugh, how could the world continue to turn while her daughter was missing? She wanted to run to those laughing people, shake them, slap them, curse them for being happy, for not joining in her frantic never-ending search around the city for a daughter that wasn't even truly hers. 

              No, Anya wasn’t her biological daughter. She was her chosen family, as precious as any gift she had ever gotten. A gift she would never deserve. 

                                                                                                            ******

            On day eight, hour twenty, the fog was broken. A call piercing the silent apartment. Yor had just come back from her search, and was staring at the wall, the ceiling, anything but Loid. Her hand on Bond as the dog whimpered and whined. Even he hadn't been eating right. 

            “Hello? Forger residence?” 

            He couldn’t handle another fake call, another false hope, another “check in” from the nosy neighbors that just wanted to gossip about their tragedy. 

            Nothing, he was about to hang up when a small sob made his blood run cold. 

            “Papa? Papa?”

            Anya. He had finally cracked, he was hearing things, it couldn’t be-

            Another sob, a whimpered “Papa.” Static cut through, and broke up the next part of this phantom voice.

            “Anya! Anya! Where are you?!”

            Yor’s head shot to him, rising up from the couch, Bond's ears upturned at the sudden movement. 

           “Lab, papa, I don’t”

            Static, Loid was sure his heart was beating out of his chest by now. 

            “Study.”

             “Dark.”

             “Papa.”

             “Help.” 

             A gasp, was that, was that a struggle he heard? The line went dead and he was left staring at the dead phone. Someone outside of himself whispered for Anya to say more, to tell him more, but the line was already dead. 

             “Loid, Loid. ANSWER ME!” Yor’s sharp voice snapped him back to reality, and everything came crashing back down, and Loid looked to his wife, phone still in hand. 

             “It was Anya.” 

              Yor’s hands flew to her mouth, trembling as he sprung to action, calling Frankie. The lab, that was a clue. It was dark, underground maybe? Studying, that was, what was that? They were forcing her to study? What did that even mean ? Still, dread filled his stomach at what a lab could possibly want with a little girl for over a week. 

              “She needs our help.” 

              The trembling hands went back to her side, and Yor stormed past him, nearly knocking him down in her haste to get to her room. The door slammed shut, shuffling sounds from inside, and just as Loid managed to get Frankie on the case of finding every single top secret lab in the country, Yor emerged. 

             “Why, why are you in your nice dress?”

              Her favorite black dress in fact, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she had something slipped into the sides of her dress too quick for him to see. 

               “I am getting our daughter back. Tonight .” 

                                                                                                                 *******

                Finding the lab had been child's play for Frankie. Loid had to commend him for his efficiency. Within twenty minutes he was at the Forgers apartment with a blueprint in hand, information on the lab, the director, everything he could get his hands on was spread before them on the coffee table. 

                The director wore glasses, and as Loid stared at him, he couldn't shake a familiar feeling. This was possibly the man that took Anya, no, it was the man. Loid quickly snatched the previous photos, taken what felt like a lifetime ago, and compared the two. It was him. How had he never seen that scar before? A small scar on his ring finger, just barely crescent moon shaped. 

                There was no doubt about it, that was the man, the place where Anya was being kept. 

               “I don’t know any real names, all I know is locations and rumors of what the lab is being used for.”

               Loid didn't even care that Yor was still in the room, and that she might have questions about how “scruffie” was suddenly an expert on secret labs and underhanded government organizations. All that mattered was Anya. 

               “Where.”

               She spoke before he could, a sharp finger pressing down on the man's face. The way her gaze fell upon the paper was much like that of a cat stalking their prey, memorizing its appearance, its movements, all before the kill. Good. She might be a civilian, but she was strong. He hated to drag her into danger, but he knew better than to even attempt to convince her to stay at home and wait for him. 

               “In the forest, just west of the capital.”

               That close, all this time and Anya was right next to them. 

               A sudden crack, and Loid realized that the pencil he was holding had finally snapped under the pressure of his fist. 

              “It’s not that simple through, they have state of the art security, there's even rumors that it’s being protected by an outside military group.” 

              Loid’s head snapped, and Frankie answered his question before he even had a chance to form it. 

             “Not Ostania, not Westalias. No one really knows. Pretty much everything I have heard about this place is all rumors, and they seem pretty exaggerated to me. People say that they use this place to train espers to use as weapons.” 

              Yor looked at them, eyes narrowed. 

              “So, these men are trying to turn Anya into a weapon? They’re trying to force our daughter into fighting in a war that she cannot possibly understand, one that hasn't even begun?” 

              The silence was answer enough, and before either could say another word, Yor snatched the blueprints off of the table and began her walk to the door. 

              “Yor, you can’t-”

              She whirled on her heels, glaring at him with such rage, something he had seen in her expression far too often this week. 

              “I can’t what Loid? Find our daughter? Protect her? Save her from these, these, rats .” 

              “You can’t do it alone. I’m coming with you.” 

              He grabbed his coat, not even bothering to hide as he slid a pistol with a silencer into the hidden pocket on the inside. 

              “Hold up, guys, did you not hear me say “the best security in the world?” You need a plan, you need-”

              The door slammed shut behind them, and the Forgers were marching into the night to retrieve their girl. 

                                                                                                                  *****

              Stealth was not typically her forte, Yor killed her targets so fast that there was no need for stealth. Yet, she had to agree with Loid that sneaking through the air vents would save time. If she had to stab her way through every rat that made their way down the hall, it could take too much time. Time that they didn't have. 

              Getting to the air vents wasn’t even the hard part. They had entered the underground lab through the sewage system, thankfully it was a false pipe or else their stench would have given away their location. From there it was a simple matter of scaling the wall, entering the building, and now entering the vents. They still had no idea where Anya was, but Yor was prepared to search every inch of this forsaken place to find Anya. 

               “Shh, stop.” 

                Yor halted from where she was crawling behind Loid, holding her breath. Soon enough she saw what had caused the pause. A group of rats in lab coats were walking past them, and although their conversation was hushed through the layers of sheet metal, she soon heard what caused him to pause. 

                 “Subject 007 is giving me a run for my money, it’s exhausting.” 

                 “Little brat even managed to find a phone, and I heard she’s even escaped once before. What kind of a place is this that we can’t even keep a brat here?”

                 “Hey, you try keeping an eye on an esper like that, she’s sneaky! Anyway, did you hear about-”

                 They went past, walking down the hallway, oblivious to their own impending demise. If Anya was indeed this “subject 007,” and they had caused her to cry? Well, no one in this place was innocent. The rats in lab coats, the janitors mopping the floor, the nurses she saw walking past with their pressed uniforms. No one was innocent. Her hand was itching to tear out her daggers, but Loid broke through the dark cloud of her mind. 

                 “If we find the cells, then we find Anya. They will probably have heightened security around her since she managed to make that phone call, so we need to get in and out swiftly.” 

                Yor nodded, letting Loid lead her through the vents, down and down the lab. They passed by other rats, walking around and talking, they passed medical rooms with sterile equipment that gleamed, a small padded room with toys, board rooms with seats around tables. 

               The normalcy of some of the rooms almost made her sick. They passed a cafeteria where people were milling around, eating, talking about the news and the soccer match. In the woman's locker she heard talks of marriage, scummy boyfriends, plans to hang out with coworkers. They dared to speak of such things, how could they not feel the shame pressing down on them. While they ate their bread, made weekend plans,  Anya was crying. 

               “That must be it, let's open the grate and I'll take a look around.” 

                There was a metal door, with an ID scanner. For a split second Yor had to wonder how Loid knew that this was the place, but she soon figured it out for herself. The air vent stopped here, as did the lights. Whatever was behind the door, they didn’t want anyone having easy access to it. It would have to be cold there, the December chill penetrating the ground and seeping into all corners of this lab. 

                 Red flashed across her vision, and Yor easily swung her legs out from the grate, kicking it open with a deafening clatter, and hopping down to the ground below, leaving behind an aghast Loid. She knew what he was thinking, how could she do that when there was sure to be a security camera? 

                That's what she was counting on. 

                Let them come, let them come right to her, like rats in a maze, only finding a hungry cat at the end. A swift toss of her dagger, and the camera was destroyed, alerting anyone that was watching. 

                Time to watch them scurry. 

                                                                                               *******

                  Loid couldn’t even begin to think about what possessed Yor to act so rashly, but he could hardly blame her. It took every bit of his resolve to not lose his cool and fling himself at the door, trying to break it down with sheer force. That wouldn’t work, and it would only waste energy. Instead, he turned to the ID scanner and began to dismantle it, allowing Yor to stand guard with her dagger, (when had she gotten that)? 

                   Top of the line was nothing for him, child's play really. A mere ten seconds later and the door swung open. 

                  Just as he feared, darkness before them. The room must have been soundproofed, cause it was deathly quiet within. 

                  It was so cold he swore he could almost see his breath rising in a fog before him. 

                  A flashlight, he needed one. Thankfully, he had thought to bring one, and as he spread its small beam around, a sound came to him through the quiet that he recognized almost instantly. 

                 Please, don’t be what he thought it was, don’t be-

                 A sob. A gut-wrenching sob, one that spoke of absolute sadness, a misery one could barely understand unless they had experienced it themselves, and he had, all those years ago when the bombs fell. 

                 Faster, he had to move faster, it was cold, how long had she been in the dark? How long-”

                Halt, stop, stare at the small white lump huddled in the corner of a room, if one could even call such small accommodations a room. It looked more like a prison cell. 

                He couldn't speak, why couldn’t he speak? Why was he choking? What was this running down his face? 

                “Anya?”

                The sobbing across the bars paused, and the white lump began to slowly, ever so slowly unravel itself from the ball it had made. As it took shape, Loid gripped the bars, breathe, he had to breathe. He couldn't get angry; he had to stay focused. 

                Even as his daughter, his baby girl, unwrapped herself before him, wearing a face that was splotchy with tears, a white hospital gown that was doing nothing against the cold, and disheveled pink hair. They stared at each other for only a split second before Anya leapt up, arms outstretched towards the bars. 

                “Papa, papa, pap-” 

                She fell flat on her face, and it was easy to see why. How could she move when she was being shackled to the bed by an ankle? 

                The room was no longer cold, it was burning hot, and without even processing his actions, he had picked the lock to the door, rushed in, and grabbed Anya up into his arms. 

                Soft hiccups against his chest, sobs that he didn't even try to stop as he held her close, rocked her as much as he could with the detaining device, and took a look at the damage. 

                The room was oh so hot, and he was ready to set a match to this entire building. Whether it be because she had been struggling, or from sheer time spent with it on, but her ankle was a smarting red and raw, blistering, a small bruise forming where the metal met her skin. 

                They had hurt his daughter. 

                                                                                                              *******

                  Before Yor had always strived to give her “clients” a painless and swift death. After all, they were still human at the end of the day. Thankfully this place was filled with nothing but rats, because as she looked down at Anya's injured ankle, she knew that she couldn't let them off with an easy and swift death. 

                  They would suffer, all of them. She was going to make sure of that. 

                  Sound from across the hall, shouts made them jerk their heads to the door. 

                 The broken security camera had finally alerted the rats to their presence, and even as Anya clutched onto her fathers shirt in fear, Yor could feel nothing but the pure unbridled rage filling her from the stomach all the way to her chest and arms. 

                 “Loid, take this. Cover Anya, including her face. I’m going to clear us a path” 

                 She slipped off her coat, making sure that it shielded Anya and would keep her warm, at the same time letting her dagger slip into her hand. She had no fears about him being able to pick the lock, all she was worried about was not letting Anya see the monster she was about to become. 

                 No more Yor Forger, it was time for the Thorn Princess to meet her new clients. 

                 The Thorn Princess marched her way to the door, one quick glance to see that indeed Loid had made short work of the lock, and was now bundling Anya up securely in the oversized coat, her eyes and ears tucked inside. A small nod, and the Thorn Princess was unleashed onto the crowd of rats dressed in soldiers' uniforms before the door. 

                While she wanted them to suffer as much as possible, she had to make sure they were silent. Anya was already scared enough, she didn't need the shrieks of dying men to invade her dreams as well. So, she went for their necks, slicing through the soft exposed skin and opening their arteries, blood splattering over her dress, the floor, the walls. The rats gurgled as they died, and that was the most efficient way to make them suffer and die silently. Choking, drowning on their own blood seemed fitting. 

                 It was almost insultingly easy, slicing her way through the horde, clearing a path to the exit. She didn’t get a chance to toy with the rats as much as she would have liked, she could have done so much more if she only had time, and she needed to quell this rage pumping through her veins. 

                That would have to be saved for someone else, and as they ran down the hallway, Anya's soft sobs breaking through the coat, Thorn Princess found that target. 

                  Glasses, scrawny face, cold and cruel eyes. Six foot ten, and hardly looked to weigh more than 130 pounds. A wisp of a man, and this was the monster that had been tormenting her daughter for the past week? 

                  “What, who, who are you?” 

                   A pause as she stalked her prey, circling him, eyeing his every move. 

                   “007? Where are you taking-”

                    He didn’t get a chance to finish his question as the Thorn Princess swiftly closed the distance, kicking into his jaw with as much force as she could, a hint of satisfaction cooling that rage as she felt something crunch under the force of the kick. She could easily kill him now, but he needed to know something. 

                    Tight fingers grabbed the stunned man's face, squeezing too tightly as Thorn Princess leaned in to whisper into her client's ear. 

                    “Her name is Anya.”

                    In her rage she must have slammed his face into the cement wall at least five times before holding him up on his feet by his now blood stained lab coat. He was choking, sputtering for breath, fruitlessly reaching out to try and ward off her hands. She would have liked to toy with him more, make him suffer for every waking second Anya had spent in this place, every tear she had shed. Yet, Loid was watching, he was waiting. Anya was waiting. If there was even a one percent chance that her hesitation could cause Anya more harm, then it wasn’t worth the risk. 

                     Dagger held under his chin, and her head tilted as she watched his bloodshot and bruised eyes grow wide as he realized that the moment all humans feared was coming sooner rather than later. 

                     “I look forward to meeting you again in Hell.” 

                                                                                                            ******

                      Loid held absolutely no sympathy for the man held under Yor’s dagger, but even he winced as she finished the job. It was a sharp sound, and one he feared Anya heard. 

                     “Yor? Let’s go home.” 

                    His fake wife, her face splattered with blood, turned to him as if pulled out of a daze. Eyes darted to the dagger in her hand, and she moved to speak, but Loid grabbed her dagger before she could. 

                     “I prefer guns, but I know these need to be wiped off or else they rust. We all need to get cleaned up. Let’s go home.”

                     No more words needed to be said, secrets were exposed but unanswered. That could happen later, once Anya was taken care of. 

                     Anya.  

                     He peeked under the thick coat, almost afraid that he would find nothing there, but no, she was there. Changed, but there. Quiet hiccupping sobs rang clear now that the coat was slid down her face, Loid turned his back to the bodies in the room, walking swiftly towards the exit. 

                     “We need to get her warmed up, she needs food, she needs-”

                     If he focused on the upcoming tasks, his assignment, then maybe the tears would stop their treasonous descent down his cheeks. 

                                                                                                                ******

                       What did people do, coming home from something like that? What was there to say to each other, to themselves? Nothing seemed adequate to explain the emotions racing through his mind as Frankie drove the family back to their apartment, Anya sleeping on Loids lap, tucked securely under Yor’s thick coat. Her legs stretched slightly over Yor’s lap, and the woman worked to try and warm her bare feet without rousing the young girl out of her sleep. A hospital would be the most logical choice, but no one even suggested that choice. How could they ever explain this? 

                        Nobody but those quiet souls sitting in the car could understand. 

                        It was the early morning, or late night, however one looked at it. Regardless, the apartment was blessedly quiet. No nosy neighbors to ask about where they had found Anya, or why the quiet Forger family was covered in blood and carrying weapons. 

                        They let the door click quietly behind them, and thankfully no words were needed as parting as Frankie dropped off a couple of things and then returned to his own home. Loid made a mental note to call him first thing, and thank him properly. For now, he had to save his words for the person who needed it most. 

                        He set down Anya on the couch, him and Yor quickly examining the restless child. He dreaded having to wake her up, his own experience told him it would not be a pretty site waking her up, she was sure to be scared, to cry, to scream. Unlike him though, she had people here to comfort her. To shield her, to protect her from her own mind. 

                       “Anya? Anya? Wake up, An-”

                       As he feared, the child woke with a start and began to launch into a scream, a sob, and he didn’t try to stop her. He only brought her closer to them both, the Forgers locked tight as they held their missing puzzle piece to them. 

                       When the worst of it was over, tears brushed aside by hand he never thought could be gentle, Yor’s warm hands and gentle soothing rubbing the child's back, he finally spoke. 

                       “Anya.”

                       He paused, what could he say, how would he even start this conversation? There was a likely chance that she would shut down entirely. He eyed her up and down, eyes settling on the ankle. Physical needs first, he could inquire as to her mental state once that was taken care of. 

                       “Let us look at your ankle. It needs to be cleaned and bandaged.” 

                       Like any child would, Anya stiffened, shifting her weight away from them, tears forming anew. Patience. He had to be patient. 

                       “I know it hurts, but we need to clean it, or else it could get infected. Yor…Your mother will be right here while I take care of it, okay?”

                       It took more convincing, much more actually, but finally they had her situated on Yor’s lap, face turned into her mothers chest. One hand was on her favorite plushie, the penguin from the aquarium. Somehow that memory made the sight of her ankle that much harder. 

                       It was as he feared, the skin was rubbed raw from friction, and it was even possible that the ankle had fractured. He wouldn't know until he examined it closer. This wasn't like bandaging a fellow soldier out in the field. This was a child, his child, and he had to be gentle. 

                      Loid slowly took her ankle into his hands, stopping as Anya winced and buried herself closer to Yor. For her part, Yor rubbed her back, speaking soothingly, even humming. Anything to take all their minds off this moment. 

                      Antiseptic first, all of them wincing as Anya winched and cried out, jerking her ankle away from the pain. Words that didn’t even sound like they belonged to him spilled out. When had Twilight ever sounded so gentle?

                      “I know Anya, I know it hurts. You’ve been so brave. Just a few minutes more.” 

                      A little more coaxing and her ankle was once again in his hands, and she managed to keep still even as he cleaned the blisters that had opened, the bruises and the other sites. He rubbed on some salve and bandaged her ankle, setting it down. 

                      Now, the moment he had been dreading. 

                     “Anya? Do you have any other wounds?” 

                     The girl stiffened, quiet, and yet said everything. 

                     Loid wanted to vomit. 

                     “Where Anya?” Loid’s voice was as gentle as he could muster, praying that it could be a salve on her scattered nerves. 

                     The girl slowly sat up, bending down her head for them to see. Her hair was thick, but he gently brushed past it, finding small circles across her scalp, small burns almost. Like they had strapped her to some sort of machine and it had burned her. 

                     Calm, he had to stay calm. They were all gone now. Yor made sure of that. Any stragglers would be dealt with, and swiftly. Twilight would make sure of that. 

                     Anya's voice sounded so distant, so unlike the young girl they were used to hearing, running around and crying out for peanuts, or stamping her foot and refusing to study. 

                    “I misbehaved. It made the tests run longer, and I had to stay in time out.” 

                    “Tests?” Gentle coaxing, he needed to know what happened, but all in her time. When she was ready. 

                    “My tests. I kept failing them, so I had to study more.” 

                    Quiet then, but he gave her time to continue, however long she needed he would wait. 

                    “I tried to run away again, so I had to go to time out, when I called you and.” Her lip quivered then, fresh tears running down her cheeks. 

                    “I had to study extra hard to make up for misbehaving. I don’t like the tests papa, they hurt my head. The thoughts were so loud.” 

                     She began to kick then, Loid nearly catching a foot in the face, sharp sobs now, a full on meltdown repeated itself, and all they could do was wait out the storm. Wait it out and hope that it will end. 

                    Somehow, Anya fell asleep. She needed a bath, to brush her hair, a change of clothes, food and water. Yet that suddenly seemed like the last of their worries. Rest, they all needed rest. 

                   Loid gently scooped Anya off of Yor’s lap, holding her close to his chest, pausing as he listened to the slow but steady breaths. She was alive, she was breathing, she would be okay. As okay as she could be anyway, he would make sure of that. The night air was still, so unlike his racing thoughts. 

                   Yor rose from the couch, hands brushing down her blood splattered dress. He supposed he now knew why she preferred black and red dresses. 

                  “Loid..”

                 A pause, and a sigh. 

                  “I'm going to get changed, if Anya needs anything.” Yor glanced to the side, hands clasped together in front of her, he barely even registered the rust colored stains upon her fingertips. 

                 “Please wake me up.” 

                  A part of him was disappointed, he felt like he knew what she was going to say, and yet it was being withheld from him. Not an apology, he knew he deserved nothing like that. An explanation then, and if he was honest, he wanted to hear a promise. After all the stress he had put on their family however, he couldn't blame her as she walked to her room and gently shut the door behind her. He was being selfish, but he wanted her promise that she would stay. 

                  Anya's door was hanging ajar, Bond laying in her bed as he had been doing for the past week. When the oversized dog heard the creak of the door hinges, he rose, sniffed the air and started to bark. 

                  “Shhh!”

                   Somehow, he got the point and immediately stopped, instead hopping off the bed and sniffing Anya’s ankles, whimpering as he got to the bandage. 

                  “She’s going to be okay, I promise Bond.” 

                  Loid started to lower the girl to her bed, but he stopped. He couldn’t. Fear suddenly gripped him, a million scenarios playing through his mind. He couldn’t lose her again. What if she was kidnapped again? What if she ran away? What if she lied about other injuries, and she was severely injured and she passed, so young, too young, she couldn’t, not before him, he couldn’t handle the thought. 

                 Loid shuffled her closer to his chest, pacing to try and calm his breath. He needed to get a grip, never before in his career had he ever lost it like this. Never in his career had he cared this much for two people, and he had nearly lost them both. 

                  He had to keep Anya close, he had to protect her. No one could harm her if she remained by his side. They would have to rip him apart to get to her. 

                  His bed was easily big enough for them, and he was suddenly glad that WISE had sent him a “more comfortable” mattress. He had initially argued that it was frivolous, but they said he had to keep up appearances of normalcy, and a cot in the middle of his room wasn’t what they defined as “normal.” Never before had he been so happy to be proved wrong. 

                 Ever so gently, taking as much care as one person could take, he settled Anya down into the middle of the bed, tucked her in, reconsidered, and slid in on the other side of the bed. Even sitting at the chair beside the bed felt too far away, he had to keep her safe, he had to protect her, no one could hurt her ever again, he had to-

                 A soft snore broke his quickly spiraling through, and he looked down. She was asleep, restless, but still asleep. Her small hands seemed to gravitate towards him, reaching out for a comfort that children instinctually sought. He gave this comfort, hesitantly rubbing her back in soothing circles, watching as those restless hands stilled and settled for the soft blanket.  Loid knew that sleep would evade him tonight, but to see her sleeping brought him some much needed relief. For a moment he considered sliding out to get chimera to hug while she slept, as well as an extra blanket, but quickly decided against this idea. Sleep was sure to be fragile, and he didn’t want to disturb her more than was absolutely necessary. 

                A soft knock broke through this relief, his muscles tensed, and he almost dove for his pistol hidden under the mattress frame. 

                “Loid? May I come in?”

               He stilled his breath, and whispered to the darkness. 

               “Of course Yor.”

               Yor entered the room, gently turning the knob and closing the door as silently as if it had never been opened. 

               “I can’t be apart, I mean I feel so-”

               “I know. Come on in.” 

              As quiet as a mouse, Yor slipped onto the other side of the bed, and rested a hand on Anya's forehead, brushing aside soft pink hair. 

              They stayed like that, the complete Forgers, counting breaths, counting moments, replaying the week's events. 

              “Loid, will you make me leave, I would never hurt Anya! So please…Let me stay.” Yor’s voice was so strained, so full of worry. 

              The question startled him, how could she ever think that he would turn her away, after she saved their family?

              “I know that I am a dangerous person. I always will be, and I can never have a chance for normalcy but.” 

             Her voice broke, then was muffled as she pressed her face to the back of the sleeping child's head. 

            “I love you two. I love you Loid, I love Anya so, so much. I never want to stop being her mother, or your wife.” 

            There was quiet, a thousand thoughts processing. 

            “I thought after this week, you would.” Loid paused, speaking softer as Anya seemed to wince, but soon settled back into her sleep. “Yor I thought you hated me, and you have every reason to, I failed you both.” 

           She shushed him, looking up now. 

           “I’m tired of playing the blame game Loid. We both made mistakes. We both have so much to learn about being parents, about Anya, and each other. I want to learn everything I can. Having me around is dangerous, I know this but I will do all that I can to protect Anya-”

            “I’m dangerous too.”

             How could he possibly explain his skills, his connections, everything. Suddenly he was struck with how they could have possibly ever kept all this hidden in the first place. Maybe a part of them was so starved for a normal domestic life that they blocked every strange instinct, skill, talent, strength. 

            “I know Loid. We can make this work though, right?”

             Her hand crossed over the sleeping girl, taking Loids hand, a gentle thumb stroking his hand.

             “Yeah” He gasped in between breaths, barely able to speak. “We can.” 

             They would make this work, no matter what. Their strange little family wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs. Loid for one, would defend this family to the bitter end.

Chapter Text

                     Loid didn’t sleep at all that night, he really didn’t know what he was expecting, how the Hell could any of them sleep? Well, Anya tried, or rather, pure exhaustion hit her now. Instead of sleep Loid talked to Yor, together they soothed their way through Anya’s wakeful moments. It felt like every time she had just gotten into a good sleep pattern, she would suddenly start again, sometimes waking up halfway to where they could still soothe her back to sleep. Other times, like now, she had woken with a start and no amount of coaxing would get her back to sleep until she had spent herself out crying. It was an exhausting cycle.

                   “Papa, don’t leave me, papa !”

                   Despite the fact that Anya was clinging to his shirt, her voice was strained with absolute terror. No normal nightmare could make a child sound this afraid. He wished he could help her, take away those memories for once and for all, that she wouldn’t have to work through what had happened to her.  He knew firsthand how those memories would stay with you, taint you for the rest of your life. You would heal, rebuild, but it would always be ingrained into your very fiber. 

                   “Shhhhh Anya, Shhh. I’m right here, no need to cry. I’m not going anywhere. Mama is here too, see?”

                    Yor sat up then from where she had been rubbing soothing circles into Anya’s back, letting her see her fully. The tears seemed to slow down then, Anya’s breathing becoming less erratic and finally slowing to a somewhat normal rate. She clung to Loid with an absolute vice grip, as if terrified that if she didn’t hold on, he would disappear. 

                    He would never let her go again, he has to show her that so that without a shred of a doubt she would know that she could trust him, rely on him. He wouldn’t fail her, not again. 

                    The clock across from them showed that it was six in the morning, when he usually got up, but far too early to be up when they had just come in only a few hours ago. How was that only hours ago? It felt like an eternity. Watching his daughter suffer from something that he couldn’t fix was a new kind of torture. His mother, how had she done it? How had she taken a wartorn country, a terrified child, and made him feel, even just briefly, that everything would be okay? That she would fix everything, and nothing would ever hurt him? 

                    Loid sat up, pulling Anya onto his lap, letting her face rest on his chest as he rocked her, a bit jerky at first but soon settling into a steady rhythm. It seemed to comfort her as much as it comforted him, holding her close to him where she was safe from harm, if not safe from her mind. Slender and warm hands reached around the pair, Yor was humming to Anya, he had been living with her for so long and yet he never knew that she had a wonderful voice. There were a million things he didn’t know about her, he knew that now, but at this moment all of that seemed so trivial.  

                   Anya slept for perhaps an hour more after that when it was silently decided that sleep would not be greeting them again. Loid scooped Anya into his arms after she attempted a shaking step that didn’t land right. He ended up carrying her out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, Yor trailing behind. Perhaps they could take a nap later, but for now they had to attend to the rest of Anya’s physical state, as he had suspected her ankle was damaged internally as well as the blister on the outside, and he didn’t want her applying any pressure until they could get her to a WISE doctor for x-rays. 

                   It was so odd, the little girl that usually talked so much, chattering her questions and requests off, was now silent and staring down at the linoleum tile, pale feet not even touching it as she was sat down on the bathtub side. 

                  “Anya dear, how much can you do, hmm?” Yor’s voice softly broke through the quiet, as if afraid to speak too loud to Anya, like their daughter was some sort of house of cards. One wrong blow and she would come crumbling down once again.

                  No response from the little girl, and they didn’t push it anymore. Yor began to brush out her hair, it was a blessing that the worst of the tangles were only on the surface level, and easily enough brushed through. Loid watched Yor’s hands gently comb through each tangle, painstakingly separating each strand so as to not inflict any pain on Anya’s head. It was hard to believe that not even a full six hours ago those same hands had pushed a dagger into a man's chin and through his brain. 

                 Yor was just as beautiful and gentle as she was deadly. No one could know what was really going under the surface of the people you love. 

                 The hair addressed, Yor placed it into a small bun in order to keep it out of their way, starting to draw a bath. Loid exited then, gathering things that they would need when Anya got out. Fresh clothes, bandages so they could rewrap her ankle, a soft blanket to wrap her in to keep her warm. Bond needed food, he was such a patient dog but he hadn’t been fed all last night and this morning the whining from Anya’s room was too loud to ignore. 

                 “Sorry Bond, you’re a good boy waiting this long for your meal.” Loid said, patting the large dog's side before filling his food bowl. Bond sat down and began to eat his meal, and Loid noted with satisfaction that his appetite seemed to have returned. 

                 He figured it was about time for Anya’s bath to have ended, so he gathered her fresh clothes, knocked on the bathroom door, and slid in, offering the clothes to Yor. While she got Anya dried off and dressed, some color finally returning to the child’s skin, Loid prepared his supplies. This time as he bandaged her ankle Anya seemed to be quiet, barely even flinching as he did her dressing. It was unnerving. 

                “Yor, has she said anything to you?”

               A shake of the head, and Loid sighed, looking at his daughter fully now. Her eyes were almost glazed over, her body in the room but it was obvious that her mind was somewhere far away. 

              “Anya?” 

              No response. 

              “Anya, look at me.” Again nothing, and this time Loid had spoken a little louder. He didn’t want to startle her, but he had seen this kind of thousand yard stare before, out in the battlefield. The mind was a funny thing, sometimes shutting down, dislodging itself from it’s host as a protective mechanism. So much time spent locked in those nightmares and memories, maybe not even fully believing that she was back home, all of that could easily lead to this thousand yard stare he saw now. Dissociation it was called, regardless, Loid placed his hands on her cool cheeks, directing her head off of the linoleum and up to his face. 

             “Anya, I need you to come back here now.” 

             He had to give her something grounding, something real and present.  

            “Anya, listen to my voice. We are in our bathroom, at our home. Do you hear the barking? That’s Bond, happy that you are back home.” Loid said gently, pleased to see the girl blinking, ever so slightly coming back to herself, head tilted ever so slightly towards the door of the bathroom. 

            “Do you feel the cool tile beneath your feet Anya? How about your soft sleep dress?” Loid gently guided her hand to the hem of the dress, and those tiny fingers began to run along the plush flannel. 

            “Good, Anya, good. Focus on your senses. You are in the bathroom, do you smell the bath soap mama used?” For once, Loid had to admit that he was glad Anya had insisted on the most potently rose smelling soap at the store, while usually obnoxious, now it served a greater purpose as Anya seemed to take a deep breath in, her hand still worrying the hem of her gown. 

            “Just like that, good girl, deep breaths now.” Loid continued to coax her into reality, only satisfied when she could nod at his grounding reminders. 

            “Okay, good job Anya, you’re back with us. You did such a good job.” Loids hand rested on the top of her head before gathering her into his arms, and walking to the living room, allowing the now frantic Bond to come over and sniff Anya. 

            A small hand reached out to the white fur, and Bond pressed his head to her palm. As he expected tears began to form, but thankfully they were able to avoid another meltdown. These tears were different somehow, her sadness tinged with a new emotion. Hope, bittersweet joy. His chest ached at that expression, a week ago she was just a child, unable to process complex emotions, feelings, ideas. Now in the span of a little over a week she was experiencing such complex emotions, and there was no way she was prepared for such advanced developments. In the span of eight days she had gone from one stage of development, and was dragged through several more, and it had left her mind bruised and battered. 

            He was a trained spy, always planning four steps again, coming up with backup plan after backup plan, never letting himself be caught off guard. Yet as they sat there on that couch, watching the sunrise, he had no idea what step to take next. Should they take her to a hospital after all, for more than just an x-ray? Perhaps a therapist? Well, no, for sure a therapist. When did they leave the safety of their home, their fortress? When would Anya feel safe going outside again, much less going outside alone? To be honest, that idea struck him with fear, she couldn’t go anywhere alone. He would make sure that she was never left alone again. 

           “Hungry.” 

           Loid was startled out of spiraling thoughts, glancing down at Anya in his lap. Of course she was hungry, who knew what they had been feeding her in that facility? She was already a picky eater, so he couldn't imagine they had been making sure she ate properly. Somehow Loid was able to have Anya detach herself from him, and handed her off to Yor. It was like she couldn't stand being more than an inch away from either parent. For today, that was just fine by him, let her be a child. Lord she was just a child .  

           Breakfast was subdued, unsure of how much she would be able to eat. Toast, eggs, and some apple juice for Anya. The same for the adults, just with added coffee. They would need whatever relief caffeine could bring their fatigued minds. He relaxed when he set the plate down in front of Anya and she didn’t start to scarf it down, putting his mind at ease that they were at least feeding her something. It made sense if she was a “subject” for long term testing, but it was still a relief to see this confirmed. 

           Anya polished off her plate, and asked for seconds which Loid readily provided. This plate was similarly polished, and Loid finally felt like he could begin talking to her about the week she had endured. As a spy, he needed to gather as much intel on his targets as he could. If this was truly a research facility of some sort, then the people that the lab was supposed to be reporting to would soon grow suspicious of the radio silence. Not to mention that the lab was expansive, and they didn’t see even half of it, and there were plenty of survivors. Not many, Yor’s dagger had ensured that, but still enough for concern. 

           “Anya, what can you remember? Take your time, I know last time you said that they had you studying. Tell me about what they were trying to study.” 

           Espers couldn’t exist, surely, and yet the way that Anya’s face scrunched up as she whispered with utter sincerity.  

           “I’m not normal.” 

          A short pause, and Loid knew he had to tread carefully. 

         “Anya. You’re not really six are you?” 

         The child stiffened in Yor’s arms, then buried her face in her mothers chest, nodding against it. 

          “How old are you really?” 

         A muffled voice, and Loid had his lingering doubts confirmed. 

         “I just turned five.” Her voice was so strained, so fragile, so scared. 

         “I didn’t mean to lie to you papa, but you wanted a child that was six, for school at Eden. I wanted you as my papa so…” 

         Anya’s muffled voice  trailed off, but Loids brain was already working overtime. Different puzzle pieces came snapping together, and the picture was finally clear. Her height was short for a six year old, but somewhat normal for a four-five year old. Her handwriting was that of a preschooler, because that was the grade she was meant to be in. It made sense why she couldn’t succeed at school, she wasn’t ready for any of that, yet he had shoved her into that school, constantly making her try to understand subjects she wasn’t at all prepared to understand. 

          “Anya, how did you know that I wanted a six year old for Eden?” Loid stated as gently as he could muster. 

          Silence, and Loid didn’t push it again, she would talk when she was ready and he had to keep reminding himself of that fact. He couldn’t rush this.  

         “Your thoughts were so loud papa. I could hear them easily.” 

          Yor stiffened, but kept a gentle hold on their daughter. 

         “Anya, what do you mean?” Yor whispered, carding a hand through the child’s hair, but she had once again clamped up, not speaking, her face still hidden but hands gripping even tighter. 

         “Yor, do you remember what Frankie said about the lab? How it was built for training espers?” 

          More and more was making sense now, everything had been a clue and yet he had missed each and every one, over and over again. Not being able to handle large crowds, frequent adoptions, lack of birth records, Anya’s ability to read the room and respond perfectly. It didn’t make sense, and yet it all made sense. 

          Helping.

          She was reading their minds and trying to help, in her own way. He wasn’t sure how this all worked, but even as he had that thought Anya began to nod. 

          “I only wanted to help papa. That’s all I wanted, I didn’t mean to lie to you, and I'm sorry.” Anya’s voice shook, head finally turned to look at her father. 

          “I’m a rotten brat.” 

           Loid was shook from his musing by her words, and he could see that Yor’s hands were becoming more tense. Not enough to make Anya notice, but she also couldn’t see Yor’s expression right now. One that he had to fight to keep off his own, for fear of making Anya afraid that they were angry at her. Not angry, no, furious. 

           “Who said that to you Anya?” Loid whispered, keeping his voice perfectly even and calm. No time for anger now, that could come later. He swallowed his anger, cleared his mind, and focused instead on the one who was more important right now. 

           “Some of the sci-scientists” Here Anya struggled with the word, a slight lisp forming around the words. 

           “They said it with their words sometimes, but also with their minds. I had to do better, I was disappointing them. I tried to play too much, and I was too row-rowdy.” 

            “Can you read everyone’s mind Anya?” Yor finally managed, breaking her own shocked silence. 

            A pause, and the small girl merely nodded. Looking over at her now, Loid wondered how he had missed this, how he didn’t even suspect it when everything was so strange around her, plans lining up perfectly, Anya making just the right excuses when he needed to dash off for an extra mission, the drowning boy.
“That’s amazing Anya. You are amazing, and no one should tell you otherwise. You’re a good girl, and you're my good girl.” Yor spoke so softly, so caring, yet in her voice it was evident that she was proud. For her part, Anya seemed stunned, glancing between the two of them. 

            “You’re not mad, or disturbed? They said-”

            Her hands drifted to the hem of her gown again, head cast down to her battered ankle. 

            “They said that I couldn’t tell anyone. People won’t like me if I did, they would know that I was weird, a freak. I’m dangerous.” 

             Yor gently cut Anya off, raising her head to look her in the eyes. 

             “Listen closely Anya. You are our daughter. Nothing is ever going to change that, do you hear me? Nothing. We built this family together, and it will stay together. No one is going to call you those names again.” 

             Anya whimpered, his heart sinking, Loid realized why. Staying together was never the plan, he knew he would have to dissolve this family as soon as Operation Strix was completed. From the start he had been focused on his mission, always thinking of his domestic life as temporary. All this time Anya had been reading his mind, and all the time she was still trying to help him with his mission. Even if it meant her own loneliness in the end. 

            “You are so good Anya. You knew all along.'' He managed to say, kissing the top of her head, making sure to avoid her scars. His eyes flicked to Yor, and he knew it was best to let it all air out. The thought, and the shame made his stomach turn before he could even open his mouth. He tried to speak, but his voice catched. He cleared his throat, and tried again, managing to choke out the bitter truth. 

           “So good. I know you have read my mind all this time. I want you to know, I’m not leaving. I’m your father and not just for the mission.” There, a secret was exposed and he couldn’t care less that he had just blown his cover. Yor’s face flashed with sudden realization, her hand flying to her mouth. He could almost see her adding up all the puzzle pieces and coming to her own conclusion, the truth. Let WISE deal with it, he would finish his mission, but he wouldn't abandon this family. He didn’t care what it took, but he would find a way to make sure that it would never happen. The pressure in his stomach lessened ever so slightly, and he felt certain that this was the right decision. So strange that this was his reaction, that instead of the absolute fear and dread that he assumed would come with being exposed, he only felt a burden off of his shoulders. For the first time in a long time, two people saw him. 

          Anya’s eyes flickered with recognition, and she shifted off of Yor’s lap, scooted to his side and clutched onto his arm. It looked so much like when they first met that Loid chuckled, helping her up to his arms, holding her close. At the beginning of this mission the thought of letting someone get this close to him would have made him cringe, he would have thought of every way they could hurt him, expose him, and even just how annoying it was. Now though, he would gladly hold Anya, whatever it took to keep those tears at bay. 

          He would work hard to deserve the title of papa. 

                                                                                                       *********

          There was so much more they needed to discuss, but that day just knowing that Anya was an esper seemed to be all she could manage. They were able to get her to agree to having a doctor visit the home, but at the mention of going out for the x-ray she blanched and shook her head. 

          Time, he had to give her time. 

           The WISE doctor was a bit miffed at not being able to take Anya in for a proper X-ray, blood tests, and the whole workup. Loid explained the situation, which made the elderly man relax and enter the room with a quiet “Hello Anya.” 

           Loid could see why WISE sent this doctor in particular, he was wonderful with kids. Crouching before Anya as she sat on the couch, speaking to her gently, explaining all of his tools and everything he would do to assess her and her health. Moving slowly, the doctor was able to listen to her heart and lungs, checked her vitals, assessed the burns on her scalp, and finally settled on the ankle. Here he met with some resistance from Anya, as having her ankle messed with so much in a short time was not something she was eager to endure. 

            Still, it had to be done. Loid sat down beside her, holding her tiny hand as the doctor unwrapped the bandage on her ankle. By this time it had swollen and turned an ugly shade of purple around the joint. The doctor's eyes furrowed, and he had Anya gently move her ankle around, testing the limits of her battered ankle. He sighed, looking up at Loid and Yor who hovered there, awaiting his verdict. 

            “Without an x-ray it’s impossible to know for sure, and there is a risk it will heal deformed if we do not get a proper look at it, however, she does appear to have a decent range of motion. If it is broken it might be a hairline fracture, and that is my best estimate. She needs to keep this injury elevated, wrapped, and place ice around the skin if the swelling gets worse. She can have some pain medicine, but keep an eye on her temperature. We don’t want it masking any fever that could be a sign of infection.” 

             The doctor wrote out some full instructions, patted Anya’s head, and went on his way. They worked on setting Anya up in a recovery room of sorts, having her camped out in the living room with some stuffed animals, pillows to keep her ankle elevated, and of course Bond joined her. He wasn’t typically allowed on the couch, he could barely fit after all, but this was special circumstances. 

             Where did he go from here? What was his next step, all of their next steps, what if- 

            A soft yawn from the couch, a slight shuffling, a tiny gentle bark and Loid looked over to see Anya curled up with Bond. The dog had wrapped himself around her, as if shielding her, guarding her. Anya was falling asleep, a hand clutched onto Chimera, and then it finally happened. She fell asleep, and seemed to get some genuine rest. Loid breathed out, moving to the couch where he sat on the floor, allowing his back to be propped up against the front of the couch, below Anya’s head. Yor joined him, finger interlocking with his head resting on his shoulder and he was able to close his eyes. 

            This was as good of a first step as any. 

 

Chapter Text

               How often had Yor heard the phrase, “you’ll just know what to do when you become a mother.” It would all be instinct, of that she was assured. Did that apply to children you adopt? Children with whom you are thrust into a motherly role? The only instincts that she knew she had were ones of protectiveness, survival, and brutality. She did her job without hesitation, without a single delay. She was so good at it, such a good and deadly weapon. She knew over a thousand ways to kill, to maim, to disable her opponents as efficiently as possible. 

                 She doubted her ability to be a mother. Mothers were protective, of course. After all, everyone knew of a “momma bear.” Mothers that lift cars off of their children, sprint faster than they ever had before to catch a child about to fall, suddenly able to fend off any attacker. Yor was a shining star in this field. 

                  A bitter twinge hit her chest, a pill that was hard to swallow. Sure, she thought she was doing well enough, but then again, Anya had gone missing. Her years of training, her honed skills, none of it was enough. She told Loid to stop the blaming, and yet she could barely follow her own advice. Did all parents carry this kind of guilt when something horrible happened to their children?  

                  Yor shook her head, trying to clear her quickly snowballing thoughts. Starting today, she wanted to be a perfect mother for Anya. She had to be protective, nurturing, and healing. Anya needed all of these things, and Yor would have to find a way to provide them.  

                   She rested alongside Loid and Anya, her hands gently carding through the child’s soft hair, but she couldn’t shake the sight of her hands covered in blood. They were always covered in blood, the most efficient way to murder someone was by attacking the large carotid arteries in the neck, which spurted with force when severed. How much time had she spent leaning over a sink, furiously scrubbing her hands, under her nails, till her hands were raw? It didn’t matter though, the stench of blood clung to her wherever she went, the metallic tang as much a part of her daily life as the smell of ink at her work, or tea on a cold afternoon. Could someone with the blood of others so deeply stained into her being really be a healing force? A nurturing, kind force? 

                  A mother. 

                 She didn’t regret what she had done, far from it, she only wished she had more time to make them all suffer for what they had done to Anya. No, the only thing she regretted was this feeling now, a twinge of guilt at her thoughts, no normal mother would wish for that sort of thing. To twist their knives once again into the flesh of men that made her daughter cry, to see her weapons, her hands, be covered in their blood. 

                 Blood. 

                 Yor checked her hands again, feeling a kinship to Lady Macbeth as she inspected them for any trace of that rust covered stain she felt must be covering her entire being.  This fear of Anya and Loid also being able to smell the blood that she was drenched in was almost too much to bear. 

                 Yet, all this time, Anya had been reading her mind. All this time she knew how scary and dangerous a person that Yor was. She knew that her hands had killed more people than she could count, and yet Anya still asked to hold her hand while on walks. She looked to her with a face full of trust, the innocence of a child that knew the whole truth about her and yet still called her mother. 

                  Yor’s hand stopped over Anya’s forehead, feeling the start of a heat against her temple that felt suspiciously like a fever trying to begin. These hands may be covered in blood, the metallic stench would never leave Yor alone, but what if her hands could do something else? What if they could truly heal? Anya certainly seemed to think so, she never feared her hands, she trusted Yor. Yor’s hands could, no, would be used for the sake of this child. It was time to stop this mad circling of her thoughts, one thought bleeding into the next in an endless stream of doubt and anxiety. 

                   It was time for action. 

                   Yor gently detangled herself from the child, easing her over on her side to lean more closely into her fathers side. After a pause to make sure that they were settled, gentle breaths rising and falling, Yor turned to the sink. There she grabbed a washcloth, rinsed it in cold water, and filled a basin with the water. She took the Tylenol the doctor had given them, and began to measure it out, closely following the dosage guide based on Anya’s age, height, and weight.. Perhaps it was morbid, but she could be exciting and precise when she needed, sometimes using poison to kill her enemies. She had a keen sense for dosages, and she knew for a fact that keeping track of Anya’s medication would not be an issue. 

                    With these items in hand, Yor returned to where the child still lay fast asleep, her breaths quick, almost panting now. She paused there a moment, crouched before the child, gently dabbing her forehead with the cool rag. Perhaps it wouldn’t lessen the fever, but it would provide Anya with some comfort. 

                    Comfort, that’s right, her hands were capable of comfort. She would force them, mold them, into hands of comfort. When Anya finally awoke, she yawned,  shifting over to look at Yor as she lay the cool rag across her forehead. 

                    “Here, Anya, take your medicine. It’ll help with the pain, and stop the fever, alright?” 

                    The child nodded mutely, dangerously close to slipping back into that dissociative state. Yor began to talk, her voice low and gentle, comforting to Anya, and not loud enough to wake up Loid. She knew that none of them had slept well in over a week, and if he could get some sleep then they would be better for it. 

                     “Do you need another blanket, Anya? Tell me, are you warm or cold?” To be honest, she didn’t have a grasp on psychology like Loid apparently had, but she understood the basics from the bathroom issue this morning. Keep her mind in the present, ask her questions, make sure she doesn't get that glazed over look once again. She could do this. 

                     “Cold. I feel really cold.” Anya stated with a whisper, eyes down at the thin blanket that she had fallen asleep in, small hands trying to draw it closer to her core. 

                     “Alright, I’ll get you another blanket. Take your medicine now Anya.” 

                     It was almost a relief when she acted like a normal child, nose upturned at the fake cherry scent of the childrens Tylenol. Taking a hesitant sip only left her face scrunched up in disgust.

                     “I know it’s bad. Just drink it all in one go, okay? Then I will get you another blanket and make us some hot coco. Extra sugar, alright?” 

                     It was easy to release her pressing anxieties, and slip on the gloves of motherhood. She had found herself putting on these gloves more and more often over the past few months living with them, but now she would wear them with pride, and allow them to become a permanent part of herself. They couldn’t atone for the stains of her past, but they could hide them. This was her family. Anya was her daughter, Loid was her husband, and she was a mother . 

                     It took a bit more coaxing, but finally Anya had swallowed down the sickly sweet medicine, and as promised, Yor prepared them both some hot cocoa. Loid began to stir, shifting to sit up on the couch, rubbing his eyes. Yor set his mug before him on the coffee table, and sat down again beside Anya, who was now well bundled up in the blankets and gently blowing on her steaming drink. The drink was polished off in no time, and she laid back down to sleep, head tucked into the pillow, shutting out the world around her. 

                      “ Ugh , how long did I sleep for?” Loid sat up, stretching a bit, a faint cracking of his spine. Sleeping curled up around someone couldn’t be good for your spine, but neither of them had any intention to stop.
                    “Not long enough. You rest up, I can handle Anya’s medications, dinner won’t be for a while so try to rest some until then.” 

                      Loid shook his head, staring out across the room. 

                      “No, I  can’t sleep now, thank you though. You’ve heard about me, and my mission. You know what I am. I still don’t know what you are for sure.” That was a bluff, she knew that he had realized what she was from the moment she made the first cut across the throat of the lab guard, to when Anya was spilling their secrets. No, he was trying to give her a chance to vent, to let it all out into the open. Maybe it was time for the Thorn Princess to come out into the light. 

                       Yor’s hand gripped her mug tightly, cleared her throat, and began. 

                      “I kill for hire…An assassin. I only kill traitors to my country however, only people that have truly done wrong.” That was how she had justified this line of work to herself for all these years. If she kept saying it, eventually she would believe herself. 

                      “I have done this for a very long time, ever since our parents died and I was left to raise Yuri on my own. I was trained at a young age, and over the years, I have honed my skills.” Now that she started, the words seemed to slide out of her mouth on their own.

                     “I’ve become the best assassin in this country, over years and years of successful hits. I’ve taken down dirty traitors, politicians, terrorists. Anyone that I was asked to take out, I did. Yuri and I ate, we had a home, he had books to read and clothes to wear. I can’t say that I regret my choices, even if I should. If there was another option, then I would have taken it, but if it was between let Yuri starve, or doing this job, then I will always pick this job.” Yor gazed into Loids eyes, the next words picked with care, stated like a spell. 

                     “I would do anything to protect the people that I love. I will always do anything for the people I love. That will never change.” 

                     Loid simply nodded, perhaps both of them were ignoring the absurdity of this conversation, of their life. For a moment he was quiet, not speaking, and that familiar fear began to rise up. She had just spilled her entire secret out, admitting that she had killed hundreds of people, and would gladly do it again. 

                     Any rational person would call the police and run away from her as soon as they could, and as fast as they could. Loid was staring into his mug, took a hesitant sip of his tea, and finally when it felt like Yor’s chest would burst open, he spoke. 

                     “I see. That does explain a lot then. Thank you Yor, for being honest with us, with me. I am glad to have you in our family.”

                    Yor's hand on her mug almost slipped, but she managed to sit the mug down on the coffee table, taking slow breaths to calm herself. This was real, and it wasn’t going anywhere. Anya must have read her thoughts then, because even when sick, she tried to help. A small hand patted her arm, the child trying to give comfort. Yor slid Anya onto her lap, kissing her head, arms wrapped around her small frame. 

                    “I am more grateful than you two could ever know. I love you.” 

                                                                                                                *********

                    The next morning began with Anya’s fever fully developed. It was easy to slide into her new role, once she put it into her mind that this was her purpose now, she just had to let it consume her. Give Anya the warm chicken broth Loid made, have her drink tea, juice, whatever fluids they could get into her in between restless naps and the pitiful cries of a deeply sick child.

                    Yor measured medications, kept track of the timing perfectly. Antibiotics every eight hours, Tylenol every four, but not over five times a day. In between she made sure Anya had cool rags for her forehead, blankets for the chill, and company. They stayed close to her, Yor taking breaks every once in a while from her new work around the apartment to sit with Anya, sitting quietly while they watched cartoons, or to listen to Loid read out some of the Spy wars comic. 

                    Mostly, when she wasn’t preparing medications, she watched Anya, and talked to Loid. Now was such a moment, Anya on the couch, in a feverish sleep, Yor and Loid at the dining room table. 

                     “Have you thought about, I mean-” Yor began, but stopped when Loid let out an unease laugh. 

                     “Have I thought about the safety of Anya, how to handle having a mind reader as a child, the future of our countries if I don’t finish my mission, our future together?” Loid gave her a tense smile. 

                     “That's all I’ve been thinking about lately.” Right, Loid was a planner. Yor planted her feet firmly in the present, working within the here and now. Go to the enemy's hotel room, slice your way through, clean up, go home, wait for her next target and try to appear normal in the meantime. Loid was different. His field of work required long term planning, strategy. That was good. Let him focus on the plans for the future, she would take care of the present. 

                    Perhaps it wasn’t fair to say that all she had been doing was playing nurse to Anya, unless nurses typically went around their workplace laying bobbytraps and hiding weapons for easy retrieval in case of an ambush. Under the couch lay her daggers, the kitchen held not only their typical cooking knives, but also a heavy baton. The windows were lined with a fast acting poison, one that only she held the antidote too, in the off chance that Anya somehow made her way to a window, or Loid left his permanent spot by the child's side. Everything was laid out, ready to be used at a moment's notice. If Anya was awake she would have to hide all of these out of her reach, but for now, she could have them scattered around like this. The most danger was coming up, if the organization that did this to her daughter worked anything like her own Shopkeeper, they would be expecting a report in the next week. 

                   Once that report was silent, they would first send people to investigate the lab and interrogate the few survivors. It was only a matter of time before they came looking for Anya.Yor had to make sure that she was ready to greet them.  

                   “We have to get her back to Eden.” Loid’s voice was calm, yet an underlying bitterness remained, as if the very words he spoke were poison. He must have caught her stunned face, and put up a palm, in an obvious gesture of “please let me explain the insanity that just escaped my mouth.” 

                    “I know, I’m worried as well. I have to finish my mission.” Yor was about to argue, quickly bubbling rage filling her chest. Perhaps sensing this, Loid hurried on. 

                   “If we finish my mission as soon as possible, then the countries will be safe, and I will retire. In the meantime, we can investigate the lab that held Anya, and find its leader, or the backers supporting their work. Together we will take them down, tearing their organization up by the roots until nothing remains.” It was like he was barely breathing, in such a rush to get his words out. She had never seen him without his typical composed, self assured way of talking. 

                   “When all the loose ends are tied up, then it will be safe. No more spying, I can finally feel done with it all, knowing that the world will be safer than when I began. We can disappear, somewhere far away, where no one can find us ever again. I know it’s a lot to ask, I know you love this city, your brother, and well, your work.” He finally came up for air, looking at Yor. She realized that for the first time, he genuinely looked nervous awaiting her reply. Had she ever seen genuine emotion from him before Anya went missing? How much of what she had seen before was genuine, and how much of it was the mask a spy wore in order to play into exactly what she wanted. Not that she blamed him, she had done the very same, albeit in a more direct manner, her entire life. 

                  “Plus, Anya deserves a chance to say goodbye to the friends she made at Eden, and I worry about disrupting what little normalcy she has left. When she is finally healed enough to leave our home and rejoin society, I don’t want to drag her away to a new country, only for war to follow on our heels. I promise you Yor, I am thinking of Anya.” He took her hands, and Yor felt her heart begin to pound. 

                 There was no mistaking the genuine emotion that now lay across Loid’s face. An earnest desire to hear her next words, and for her to accept him. How long had it been since he felt this genuine desire? It must have been a long time, because he was quick to look away, if he couldn’t mask his emotions, then he obviously felt safer not allowing them to be seen head on. 

                 “I will finish my mission within the month that Anya returns to Eden. I swear that to you. We can also ask Anya what she thinks. If she doesn’t want to go to Eden and wants to flee, then I will have us on a train within the next hour.” His hands left hers, and he turned towards Anya, still sleeping on the couch, Bond had now joined her, the dog barely fitting on the couch. 

                 Anya, yes, that was what mattered now. She pushed down these feelings that were arising, and stilled her heart. It was one thing to tell him that she loved their family, and another to see what their relationship could be romantically. She wasn’t denying the feeling she had when she looked at Loid, it was more like she was filing it away to sort through another day. One that was less filled with stress over a secret organization bursting into their home, the thick cherry scent of children's Tylenol, and an endless stream of wet rags. 

                 “Alright Loid, I trust you, and we can follow your plan. On the condition that if Anya wishes to leave, then we leave.” Loid nodded, once again looking into her eyes. No lies, no hesitation in his words

                  “A train ticket within the hour, I swear.” 

                 Yor took a deep calming breath, looking up to the ceiling, her eyes landing on the air vents. She should probably fortify those as well. If her and Loid could climb through air vents then that meant someone else could do the same thing. 

                  “Alright.” She stood, brushing some of Bond’s fur off of her dress from where the dog had crowded her legs as she was preparing Anya’s medicine. She bent down, grabbing her favorite dagger from under the couch, testing its blade. Satisfied with the sharpness, she turned to Loid. 

                  “We can’t let Anya go back to Eden unprotected. You begin your plans, and I will begin mine.” 

Chapter Text

                        In the end, the doctor was right.

                        Anya’s leg never really was the same after the damage that was done to it at the facility. They did everything they could to treat Anya at home, the older doctor making home visits at least once every couple of days, and Loid was even able to use his connections as “Dr. Forger'' to enlist the help of an actual child psychologist to help with Anya’s recovery. By the time they had her comfortable enough to go outside and get X-rays done of her ankle, the damage was done, and the bone had set out of alignment. To fix it would mean breaking it again and trying to reset the bone properly this time, but at the thought of that Anya blanched, and so it was decided that she would be better off with a slight limp than having to spend time at the hospital. 

                      While Loid couldn’t say that he was pleased with these events, he was very grateful that the fever didn’t get worse, and that the infection didn’t spread. After a couple of days of Yor’s careful nursing, Anya emerged fever free, her ankle now slightly less swollen and angry looking around the joint and old scar tissue. It was amazing how much of a natural Yor was when it came to the nursing care that Anya required. Even when the doctor started to add on physical therapy regimens, more medications, and teaching Anya how to use a crutch, she navigated it all with grace. 

                      If he didn’t know better, he would say that Yor was destined to be a nurse. Her careful calculation of medications, extensive knowledge of the human body and range of motion exercise, her calm attentiveness. All of it was exactly what Anya required. For his part, Loid took care of the household so that Yor could focus her energy on Anya. The cleaning, cooking, shopping, he finished these tasks as quickly as he could to rejoin Anya in their efforts to help her through her trauma. 

                     The therapist, a younger woman whose head scarf always seemed to coordinate with her dress,  had them gradually take her outside again, taught her grounding measures for the dissociation episodes, and basically just let the child vent about her experience. 

                      It was hard to get Anya to talk at first. After so long of keeping her true self hidden, and then to add this trauma on top of it? Well, it was no wonder that the first session was spent with the therapist handing Anya tissues while she clutched onto Chimera and Bond. When the talking didn’t seem to work, she had Anya draw pictures for her of the events, and she would review them with Anya, not forcing her to talk, but just stating what she thought she saw in those pictures. After that it was play therapy, having Anya act out her worries with Chimera, Penguin, and a very confused Bond. 

                    After a few weeks of these therapy sessions, the therapist related to them that it would be safe to have Anya reenter school now. Even with her assurance that the sessions weren’t going to stop for the foreseeable future, it still left Loid nervous. It was his idea for Operation Strix to continue, but even so, as he and Yor got ready to settle Anya into her bed for the night, they stood in the kitchen together, holding mugs of tea, unease strung tightly between them. 

                    “I’m so nervous, Loid.” Yor stated, clipping the silence that was starting to hang heavy between them. Loid nodded, setting down his mug with a gentle tap on the marble countertop. 

                    “Me too. We have done all we can though Yor, remember that. Anya has the choice here, like I promised. If she doesn’t want to return, then she won’t, and that’s the truth.” Loid ran a hand through his hair, finding that controlling his nervous tics had become startling low on his priority list as of late. 

                   “Still, even if she does return and something happens…Then we go. Anya is not going to get hurt again, that I swear.” Loid turned to Yor, his hand finding hers and giving her hands a gentle squeeze. Unlike his hands which he protected with gloves, her hands had a gentle, almost indiscernible callus to them, years of her true job, her raw strength, having engrained itself into the skin of her hands. Loid tried to ignore the feeling of pride and awe that this gave him. 

                  They held hands for perhaps a bit longer than either of them realized, but were swiftly brought back to the present with Anya’s crutches making their tapping sound out from the bathroom. Loid did note with satisfaction that the sound wasn’t as sharp and clunky as they had been when she first began using them, instead Anya had built up a familiar rhythm. Loid was doing his best to ignore the fact that this new tripod sound would become a fixture in their household, likely for the rest of Anya’s life. He was always quick to remind himself that she was safe, and that was the only thing that mattered. 

                  “Goodnight papa, goodnight momma.” Her sleepy voice called out as she entered the kitchen for their nightly ritual of having them tuck her into bed. This little act seemed to calm them all, but tonight Loid would have to interrupt this calm ritual. 

                   “Anya, come over here please. We have something we want to ask you.” 

                 “Yes.” Her voice came out soft, head tilted down towards her bare feet, one side of her body slightly leaning into the weight of her crutch.

                 “But I didn-” Loid stopped himself, sighed, and tried again. He would perhaps never get used to the fact that she could read their minds. 

                  “Anya, you don’t have to say yes. I know you want to help us, but you have the choice in this matter. You don’t have to go back to Eden if it scares you, or if you would rather leave. 

                  “Yes, Loid is right, Anya. We will protect you when you go back to Eden, of course we will. But if you would rather leave, then we also understand that.” Yor cut in, kneeling down before the girl and gently tilting her face up to meet them. Yor’s thumb gently swept across Anya’s cheek, presumably whipping away a tear. Anya didn’t speak for a moment, when she did her voice was strained. 

                   “But I want to go back. I want to help papa with his mission. I want to help save the world. I want to go back to school and see my friends. I know it’s dangerous, but I don’t want anyone getting hurt because of me. That’s what would happen if papa’s mission fails, right?” 

                   It was no use lying to a child that could see right through any lie they concocted. So, Loid spoke the truth. 

                   “There is that chance Anya. It wouldn’t be your fault though, don’t think that you have to bear this responsibility alone. The adults of this world are the ones who have made this mess, and it is not up to you to fix the entire world Anya. If Operation Strix fails then we will think of something else to stop the war. I promise.” 

                   Anya shook her head, looking up at him, her crutch resting against the couch, her face red, yet her jaw was set with a mature determination that should have been foreign to such a young child. 

                   “No, this is the best plan, your spy ag-agency said it was the only plan! I can do this papa. I promise that I can be brave.” 

                   Loid let out a sigh, picking Anya up and holding her close, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

                   “I know you will be so brave, Anya.” 

                                                                                                   ********

                    It was Monday, and it was such a strangely normal morning. They had breakfast, Anya had gotten dressed in her school uniform, backpack in hand. She wouldn’t be taking the bus of course, from now on they would escort Anya to and from school. Loid would not be making that same mistake twice. 

                    That wasn’t the only thing that would be different. Frankie had offered his entire catalog of spy gear, and now Anya could be outfitted with a small camera that she would operate if she felt in danger or being trailed, a panic button that would alert a corresponding device that Loid and Yor both carried, and other such gadgets. Frankie had also brought Anya over more stuffed animals than would even fit on her bed, as well as at least fifty different bags of peanuts of all brands and flavors. This delighted the child, and kept her entertained long enough for them to flesh out their plan. 

                   Loid would stay inside the school building with his disguises, while Yor would remain at the ready to be called in at a moment's notice. Her and Frankie would be in a car parked outside, and could use their time to sort out all the information that Frankie had dug up on various military operations, secret agencies, anything that could give them a clue about their next steps. 

                   Somehow even all of this didn’t feel like enough as Loid walked with Anya and Yor to the school. As they entered the gates of Eden the people that recognized Anya stopped to stare and whisper, some of them rushing over to say how glad they were that she was back, and then run off as if unsure how Anya would react. 

                   In the end it was Becky who brought back some true normalcy to their day. At the sight of Anya the child had broken out into a run, nearly toppling Anya over as she hugged her, crying too hard to speak at first. When she finally managed to speak it was an almost incomprehensible babble of words. A lot of crying Anya’s name, saying how glad she was that she was safe, that she missed her, she would protect her from whoever made her walk with a crutch. She would certainly be a force to be reckoned with when she was grown up, that was for sure. 

                   Anya glanced back at her parents, one hand in Becky’s, the other on her crutch. She propped this up into her arm and gave them a little wave. With that, she began her tripod stride into school, Becky standing close to her, and in the fashion of a young child who doesn’t know the proper way to make someone feel better, she began to talk about everything Anya had missed and all the playdates they would have now that she was back home, safe and sound. It was something so normal, so childish, and it was clear that this was exactly what Anya needed, for as she began her walk into school, she was smiling. 

                 It was the time they dreaded, when Loid and Yor would have to let Anya walk alone into the school. No, that wasn’t quite right. Anya wasn’t alone. She had her friend Becky, and even when they were apart, she had them. She would always have them. 

                                                                                                                          ******

                  Yor found that she was strangely calm this morning. They had a plan, they had safety measures, and just short of her coming into the school with Anya as her own personal bodyguard, they had done all that they could. It was up to Anya now to get them into this scholar's event, and then this whole affair could be over with. She was smart, she was capable, and Yor’s daughter would find a way to get close to Damian, she knew she would. 

                  Yor waved Anya off, then nodded to Loid, handing him his suitcase. She would recover it from the bushes, allowing Loid to go into the building dressed as a janitor. Her part of this plan was easy enough. Stay with Frankie in a car outside the school and assist him in research. While research was more Loids area of expertise, Yor certainly didn’t have the same disguise ability that Loid possessed. So, out in the car she remained, pouring over newspapers, maps of the country, leaked letters from political officials. Anything that would give them a clue about either the man at the head of the war faction, or the facility that kidnapped Anya. 

                 Yor drank her tea that she had stored in a thermos, breathing onto her gloved hands to try and warm them up. Not having the car running meant they had to remain dressed in their winter coats and gloves, but it was a small sacrifice to make if it meant she could both be close to Anya while still trying to find her target. If she was honest, a selfish part of her wanted to devote her time solely to finding the organization, person, country, whoever it was that had hurt Anya. Still, she had promised to help with Loid’s mission. If the organization tried to make the first move and capture Anya again, well, now they were ready for them. Trying to hurt Anya would be the last mistake they ever made. 

                 Yor pressed her forehead to the cold glass, trying to suppress a yawn. 

                “How does Loid do this for every single mission?” She wondered aloud, Frankie shrugging beside her as he highlighted another sentence in a dry letter written by an equally dry politician. 

                “To be fair, I usually have to screen the materials before I pass them on to Loid, making sure that they're genuine articles right? Still, I don’t study them like he does. The guy can freaking memorize a page and recite it a year later!” He shook his head, setting down the letter and wiping off his glasses with his shirt. Once placed back on his face, he turned around, reaching into the back seat of the car, pulling out two small paper bags, presenting one to Yor.

                 “Lunch break! I may not be a great cook like Loid, but I can at least make a decent sandwich.” Yor would have eaten anything in that moment, at the mere mention of food it was like hunger suddenly crashed on her and she was ready to eat whatever the bag had in store for her. True to his word, the sandwich was a simple but hearty affair with ham and cheese. An apple and a few other snacks rounded out the lunch. Popping her neck and sliding off her gloves, she unfolded her sandwich from its wrapping. 

                 “Thank you Frankie, I didn’t even think about food.” At this the man chuckled. 

                  “I kind of figured that was the case. Anyway,” he held out his own thermos “cheers.” 

                 Their metal thermos clinked, and they settled into a quiet lunch break. The air was chilly on her now exposed fingertips, but it was worth the sacrifice as the food settled her grumbling stomach. All was calm and quiet, until Frankie cleared his throat. 

                  “Sorry if I am overstepping, and don’t mention this to Loid because he could probably kill me in a million different ways, but I am an information broker so…” He grinned what she could only recognize as a mischievous grin. 

                 “This one is on the house, mostly cause it should be obvious.” He paused, and she was now convinced that in another life he would have been an actor.

                 “You know that Loid is head over heels in love with you right?” 

                 Yor almost choked on her sandwich, but did her best to save it with some semblance of grace. She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks, and she did her best to hide her face behind her thermos. 

                 “I well, I…” She shook her head, trying to make herself form a coherent sentence. 

                 “I think he does, I mean, I feel like he shares those feelings. But with Anya, I mean, we haven’t had time to really think of anything else. I just kind of assumed that we would handle this later.” 

                 Frankie nodded, sandwich in one hand as he pointed with the other. 

                 “Well, at least you know that. Loid is as thick as a brick wall when it comes to love, so it really is best that you guys wait until Anya is sorted out. Cause you will need a lot of patience when you two start being a real couple.” He hummed, then snapped his fingers. 

                 “Oh, I should probably tell you that your marriage license is totally forged. That thing took me hours  to make it look legit.” 

                 For some reason, this made Yor laugh. A bright bubbling laugh that made tears leak out of the corners of her eyes. When she managed to calm down, her laughing having subsided into a couple of gasps, she tapped her thermos to his again.

                 “Well, I should have figured that you were the one behind our license. Thank you for an excellent forgery.” With that, the two finished their lunch, picked up their papers, and dived once again into the dry ink, searching for clues amidst the words on the page. 

                                                                                                                  *******

                  Loid noted that Anya was either treated like a fragile bomb that could go off at any moment, she was ignored, or people were suddenly kind to her when he knew that before her one true friend was Becky. Still, as long as Anya was comfortable with the attention, then this could spur on the mission. With any luck, they would finish with the month that Anya started back to school, and then they could fade away in peace.

                  Loid swept the small bits of paper that clung to the corners around the hallway, feeling more than a little sympathy for any real school janitor that was in charge of the first grader classrooms. Children in general were messy, but put them all in a classroom together? Well, whatever the janitors at this school got paid it wasn’t enough. 

                  Anya’s class had gone outside for recess, which left him sweeping this hall and pretending to look like an actual employee of this school. He had transitioned to scrubbing at a particularly stubborn scuff mark made on the floor when the intercom in his earpiece suddenly clicked on, and a suddenly shouting match began in his ears, his hand smacked on his ear, and he was grateful that his disguise as an elderly janitor allowed for this “hearing aid.” 

                  “Leave her alone you jerks!” Becky’s voice came out sharp, strained, she sounded like she herself was on the verge of crying. What had caused the kids so much distress? To his knowledge Anya’s only bully was the Damian child, but even that had been getting better as of late. He listened closely, his arms still making the motion of scrubbing at the scuff mark, but his whole body was tense, ready to abandon his mop and race to the defense of his daughter. 

                 Anya wasn’t saying anything, but a child's voice that he didn’t recognize filled in the silence. 

                “It was just a joke Becky! Besides, you know it’s true. Not even the kidnappers wanted her!” 

                Becky’s voice rang out again, shrill enough to drown out the own rage pulsing behind his ears. 

                “That’s not funny, and you know it! How can you be so mean!” Then, to his shock, a different voice broke in. Slightly haughty, brimming with overconfidence, yet now it was underlined with a strange defensiveness. 

                “Knock it off right now or else I will get Mr. Henderson!” A boy's voice, and Anya’s whisper confirmed what he knew to be true. 

                “Damian?” 

                 The boy had finally aligned himself with Becky, joining her in defending Anya from the other children until they were finally the only two voices left talking to Anya. The children had scattered, obviously his standing as one of the richest and most influential child in the school had the other children vying to be in his good graces. 

                If he was defending her, there was a chance Anya could become friends with him. The quicker she got him in to see Damian's father, the sooner he could get her away from this place, from people who would hurt her. She was strong, and she was brave, yes, but she was still a child. He glanced at his food, and found that he had barely made a dent on that scuff mark. 

              “Thank you Sy-on boy.” Anya’s voice was meek, and he could hear the shuffling of paper around her. Loid assumed that her backpack got scattered in the scuffle, or perhaps it was the other children's. Regardless, the boy that Anya had punched on the first day of school was helping Anya gather up those papers. 

              “Yeah, well, it's not befitting of the upper class to joke about serious things like you getting…Well, you know.” His voice got softer, he was apparently stepping away. 

              “Just…Tell me if they bother you again. We can go to Mr. Henderson together. I mean, if, if Becky can’t take you there herself. And if I’m not busy of course. I- I’m usually busy.” Another cleared throat. 

              “Goodbye shr- Anya. Bye Anya.” 

              The voice faded away for good this time, and Loid took a deep breath, leaning on his cart of cleaning supplies. Anya and Becky were discussing the boy, and if he wasn’t mistaken, Becky was teasing Anya for her crush on Damian. Maybe “plan B: friends with Damian” wasn’t such an outlandish dream after all. 

                                                                                                           ********

             Her eyes were heavy, but she had to read just one more paper. One more paper and then she could go to sleep. Maybe this one held the truth and if she could only keep her eyes open long enough to read it, then maybe-

             “That's enough for one day Yor.” Loid’s hand suddenly snatched the paper from her hands, as quick as lightning. She didn’t even have time to protest before a warm mug of tea was stuck into her hands, replacing the paper that had once been there, her fingers instinctively curling around the familiar weight of their matching mugs. 

              “Loid, I’m fine. I know that I am close, I can feel it!”

              Loid sat down beside her on the couch, gesturing to the clock. 

              “What you’re feeling is sleep deprivation, it's one am Yor.” She moved to protest, but a quick glance proved this futile. When did it become this late? How on earth had she been reading these papers for four hours and not even realize how late it had become? She pressed her lips to the mug rim, the sweet scent of honey chamomile tea greeting her weary body. It was as if the moment she looked at the clock her exhaustion hit her. Loid and Anya were making great progress into their ends of the mission.

               Anya was becoming closer and closer to the target's son, and they had even been studying together during recess to catch Anya up on the classes that she had missed. Every day that Anya came home she had a new story about how she had spent her day with Becky, and her new found friend, Sy-on boy. No one was bullying her anymore, and Loid had managed to be a “janitor” there for the past week without attracting any unwanted attention. It felt like the only thing that Yor had to show for her and Frankie's part was a few pages of notes, a car full of snack wrappers, and a slightly frostbit fingertip. If she could only find the clues that she knew had to be hidden within these pages, then she would be contributing to the mission. 

             “Thank you, I just got carried away.” A light chuckle from Loid. 

             “As usual.” 

              Yor sheepishly hid behind her mug, drinking the tea for a moment before she realized that if it was one am, Loid also had no reason to be awake. 

             “Why are you-" He cut her off, a grim smile on his face. 

             “Up so late? Can’t sleep. I haven’t had a good night's sleep for a while, and now it feels like this insomnia will be following me for a long time. So, I figured that I would at least be productive and go over the research with you. So, let’s review.” 

             He took the papers in one hand, his own mug in the other hand. His eyes scanned the paper at astounding speed, looking through her notes. She could almost see his thought process in the way his eyes flicked over some lines, but retraced through a few other bullet points. It all happened at astounding speed, and in no time he had read through her notes and set the paper down between them. It was somehow infuriating to see him go through a whole week's worth of work in that little amount of time, but also comforting that he was double checking her notes. 

            “I see. So far we have more clues as to what they aren’t than what the organization actually is .” 

            Yor grunted in agreement, frustration brimming up inside of her. 

            “It makes no sense, Loid, we have both exhausted every resource and yet no one knows anything about this organization. How can that be?! All we do know is that they seek to use espers as weapons. Based on the fact that they called Anya 007, then we can assume that there were other children in the facility at one time. We couldn’t find any military signals or crests, no specific uniforms, it’s like the place just exists all on its own. How does a facility kidnap children and no one notices anything?!” 

             Yor slumped over her mug, watching the small bits of leaves left in the bottom swirl and spin inside the mug. Loid placed a hand on her shoulder, he moved as if to get another paper that was closer to her, but then when he had it in his hands he didn’t move away. That was okay though, because neither did she. 

             Loid looked over the notes once more, setting them down and leaning back on the couch, his mug almost half downed. 

             “So, we have clues as to what they aren’t. It's not an official military operation, so then it is either a secret force, or an independent group of people or investors. That actually does help. When we take them down, we won’t have to worry about outright diplomatic issues.” 

              Yor hummed in agreement, her mug finished with only the small traces of the chamomile flower littering the bottom of her mug. She stared at the leaves, as if she could somehow start reading fortunes through those leaves. In the end, it was tea, and she was no fortune teller. Yor set the mug down the table, turning to Loid. 

            “If we don’t find out before your mission is over, I won’t stop trying to find these people. This is my mission now. I must eliminate any and all obstacles to Anya’s happiness.” Yor felt a tremor creep into her voice. 

            She was so tired. Oh so tired. 

            It took her a second to recognize the hand that was now gently tilting her chin up, and suddenly she was looking into Loid’s eyes. It seemed like the night air was so still she could hear the beating of her own heart. 

             “That’s why I love you, Yor. I will support you in every way that I can, but this is not your sole responsibility. We will do this together.” Loids voice was so gentle, as gentle as the lips that placed a kiss to her frostbit fingertip, then the back of her hand. Loid seemed to want to move up, maybe even place a kiss on her lips, but he suddenly swung back, his face a slightly pink shade. He cleared his throat, and took up her mug. 

             “Ahem. Anyway…We have another busy day tomorrow so we should get some rest. Tomorrow remember to wear an extra pair of gloves Yor. ” 

             Yor sprung up from the couch, smoothing down her red dress. Her voice was strained, but in a different way. A way that when they were safely together in a new home, in a new country, she couldn’t wait to explore. 

              “Yes….Yes we do.” 

                                                                                                                  ********

              He should have suspected that the school would try to placate their guilt, and while this was better for the mission overall, he couldn’t help but feel a bit miffed. Anya had been brave, absolutely. She was clever, and kind, and so many other traits that he couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride over. Yet when the school sent an official letter to say that they were “formally invited to the star scholars annual banquet” on account of “Anya’s bravery during a traumatic event” he couldn’t help but to interpret it as “please attend this fancy dinner so we can feel better about letting your child get abducted by an evil scientist.”

               Not that they knew anything about the science part, or the laboratory in general. No, their cover story was simple, that a stranger had kidnapped Anya and held her hostage for a week. When asked for more details, it was depressingly easy to let his face break down into a mess of anxiety and to say “I'd rather not discuss that.” 

              After just one of these such interactions before Anya was let back into school, it was known to not ask the Forgers anything about the “event.” Still, it really shouldn’t have been a surprise when this letter came into their mail. 

              One week. The banquet was in one week. 

              In just one week they could be done with this place, this city, this school, this life.  

              Loid looked around their small apartment, and noted with satisfaction that it would likely only take a week to pack up all their meager belongings, the essentials only. Nothing that could be traced to them, or would weigh them down. They could always replace the TV, couch, larger appliances such as those. No, they really just needed their clothes, basic tools, and a few of Anya’s favorite toys. Bond, of course, would stay with Frankie until they were settled into the new home. Frankie would take good care of him, and then Loid could retrieve their pet. As much as he trusted Frankie, he had to make a clean break. Not even his friend could know where they would go, their new home. 

               Loid sighed, his eyes returning to that small letter. Perhaps it wasn’t a good thing that their life could be picked up and moved in such a short time frame. This new home, their new place, they would set down roots. He would make sure of that. Anya would form lifelong friends, friends to have sleepovers with, to explore the woods or town with, to grow up alongside. If he let himself dream, he could see farther into the future. He could see himself and Yor sitting in the living room, waiting for Anya to come down the stairs to show off her dancing dress, sending her out on her first date, watching as she received an acceptance letter from college, got a degree, became a teacher, doctor, or whatever job it was that she chose. Whatever it was, he had no doubt now that she would succeed, and be happy. 

               Loid laughed then, setting down the letter upon the coffee table. 

                When had Twilight become so domestic? 

Chapter Text

                         Now that the moment was here, Loid found that it was hard to focus on the mission. Hard to make his hands tie his bowtie in place, to help Anya brush out her hair and place a delicate bow around her braided bun, harder still to look behind at the boxes that stored their life, scattered around the apartment living room. This was it then, this was the moment he had been waiting for, over six months he had spent in this new life, wearing the skin of Loid Forger. A mere half a month spent being a true father, and now, now that the mission was almost done he could feel himself hesitating. He was losing his edge as a spy, but after tonight that would no longer matter. 

                         No, after tonight, he could shed the name Loid Forger. They would form something new, a new family unit, new identities. When the mission was over tonight, they would fade away, hopping onto a train and emerging in a new country as a new family. Maybe they would be the Smiths, the Goldmans, the Locklears, whatever their new name was; it didn't matter, so long as the Forgers were long gone. This new family would know peace. 

                         “Papa, don’t forget your handkerchief!” Anya’s bright voice broke through his rumination, and he looked down at his little girl. Her braided bun that Yor had fixed so carefully already had a few stray hairs, evidence of the child having played while him and Yor were getting themselves ready. Her fluffy white skirts were so wide he feared she might get them caught on something, but her excitement at wearing the outfit was evident. Every day it was easier and easier for her to be more like her former self, although how much of that was put on and how much was genuine he had no idea. 

                        Still, she was trying to cheer him up, she must have heard his worries, and he couldn’t deny that her efforts brought some comfort. He accepted the handkerchief, folding it neatly into a triangle and placing it into his pocket. 

                        “Thank you Anya, that would have been unsightly if I hadn’t worn one to such a formal event.” His head turned to Yor’s bedroom, calling out to the closed door. 

                         “Almost ready Yor?” 

                         “Yes, just need to fix one last thing!” Yor’s voice was even, unflustered. How much was Yor and how much was the Thorn Princess he couldn’t be sure, but when she came out and examined herself in the mirror it was clear that she was making sure that her weapons were cleverly hidden amongst the pleats of her gown, the long gathered sleeves that likely held a secret up their sleeves. The deadliest weapon amongst them kneeled before Anya, fusing over her petticoat and fluffing it out to maximum frill. 

                       “There we are Anya, you look so wonderful.” Yor handed Anya her crutch, Anya having insisted that they decorate the handle with false ivy, wanting to look like a princess with a magical staff. Neither had the heart to tell her that it was witches and wizards that casted magic. 

                     “There, then we are all set. Remember, no matter what happened tonight, we leave after the party.” His voice firmed as he gathered himself, steeling his resolve.                         He could go into Twilight mode just once more. Slide on that ambiguous coat just once more, and then discard it once his mission is finally over. 

                     Once more into the fray it was then. 

                                                                                                                         **********

                        The dagger tip dug slightly into her thigh, but as she held Anya’s hand, leading her up into the banquet hall, she only wished she had brought more. Things could turn at any moment, and she needed to be ready. This target, if he suspected that Loid was a spy sent to stop the war there was no telling what he might do, and to be honest, he likely didn’t care about the collateral. Someone who was hungry for war would have no issues about disposing of witnesses at a formal banquet if any happened to see him exposed. So, the dagger on her thigh, the poison in a small vial, disguised as a necklace, the stiletto knife clasped against her upper arm. This wasn’t overkill, of that she would argue. 

                       No, there was another fear that made her concerned as well, one that made her keep a tight hand on Anya’s. This was her first big public appearance since the kidnapping, and if there was ever a time to be worried, this was the time. Eden was home to the country's most influential families, government officials, business owners, and military men. Any one of them could be working with the organization that had kidnapped Anya, and there was no stopping a new kidnapping attempt at such a crowded event. 

                       Or worse.

                       Yor’s hand squeezed Anya’s, just a little, before they entered the banquet hall. The event was mostly filled with the older children of the school, with a few notable exceptions. Anya, being the prime exception. Her crutch and appearance earned her the gaze of many a pitying faculty member and student. It seemed that gossip moved fast within Eden, as even the parents of the children were sharing those same pitying glances. 

                       Let them stare, it didn’t bother Yor. Growing up, she had endured many such glances as a young guardian to an even younger brother. Let them stare and feel righteous in their pity. Tonight, they would be leaving. Tonight, they would make themselves a new home. Yor would no longer be the Thorn Princess, she would simply be a mother, loved by her family. That simple idyllic life gave her comfort as she gently guided Anya to her seat, setting down their coats on the back of the chairs. Loid was back to his determined, confident, eloquent mask. He steadily began to mingle with the crowd around them, answering questions with ease and even bearing their pity statements with grace. 

                        No no, Anya was doing well. Yes what an awful ordeal. Her therapist was one of the best in the country. Indeed it was wonderful to have such a supportive wife. Anya needed space, please understand that, thank you for your concern. Once the gathered crowd had spent up their barrage of pleasantries, there wasn’t much left for Loid to deflect, and so he was able to join them at their table. For just a second Yor could see the exhaustion and stress building, but as soon as the sound of a tapping glass clung out across the hall, he snapped back into form. 

                        “Welcome Star scholars, and parents. Every year we host this banquet-”

The man droned on, but Yor’s attention was fixed on Loid, or rather, his eyes. They were darting around the room, scanning it, until finally, they settled upon his target. Tucked away neatly into the corner sat the Desmond family, or rather, the youngest member and the father. Melinda wasn’t there, not that Yor could be too terribly surprised. According to Loids intel she was quite uninvolved with her son's school lives, and it seemed that Donovan was there solely out of requirement. 

                       An absent mother, even more elusive father, the shining star of an older brother. It was no wonder that Damian was, to put it bluntly, a brat. He was changing through, as it seemed this past week Anya and Damian had become fast friends in the way that only children knew how. One minute they were utterly at odds, and the next Anya was coming home with some math notes that he had apparently helped her to draft during recess. 

                       It was almost a shame that they would have to take Anya away from this new friendship, perhaps one day things could be different, but for now he was the son of Loids target. Anya seemed to catch their eyes, read their minds, and noticed how she had locked eyes with their target. She glanced between her parents, and tugged on Loid’s coat sleeve. He leaned over to listen, her hand against her mouth, muffing whatever it was that she might have said. Loid nodded in agreement, and as soon as the facility member had finished his speech, she took up her crutch and began the walk over to the young boy. Yor moved to follow her, she had to make sure she was safe, her nerves couldn’t take the separation, but Loids hand braced her against her chair. 

                        “She’s in no danger Yor, all that is happening is a child visiting her friend at a school event. Please, sit down. She has the tool in her belt.” Yor slowly relaxed back down into her seat, putting up a mask of calm demure. Anya had her panic button, she would talk to her friend, and at an opportune moment, Loid would slip in and chat with the target. 

                        It all seemed so easy . Six months he had spent trying to get close to this man, and now that the moment was here it seemed far too easy. Loid must have been having the same thoughts, as she noticed his fingers lightly drumming against the surface of the table. They tapped in time with her rapidly beating heart as she saw the white of Anya’s dress disappear in the quickly mingling crowd. 

                                                                                                                     ******

                         It was harder than people might think to stare at someone without attracting their attention. All humans have a sense of when their movements are being tracked, they could feel when someone else’s eyes were upon them. Still, perhaps Donovan was used to this treatment. Maybe he was used to being watched when he made his rare forays into polite society. Or perhaps it was the distraction of Anya, her white dress bursting out from the crowd and striding up to the table that let him remain unaware to Loids piercing stare. Whichever option it was, it seemed that his attention was solely on Anya, he was sizing her up and down, and Loid noted with gritting teeth that he held obvious disdain for the girl with the crutch that dared talk to his higher society son. 

                         For the son’s part, if he recognized his fathers disdain for Anya he didn’t show any sign of obeying. He talked openly with Anya, and while he couldn’t hear the conversation, it was clear that Anya was happy, leaning on her crutch with a joking smile. They seemed to be teasing each other, red cheeks and laughter, all under the gaze of Donovan. When the man stood away from the table, even as the servers were passing around the night's first glass of wine, Loid knew that he had to make his move. Donovan wore a gray suit, and Loid kept his eyes on him as he crossed the crowd, but when he came out of the other side he was greeted only with children. 

                        “He’s always doing that Mr. Forger.” Loid glanced down to the voice, Damian now starkly alone at this oversized table that had been set for four. 

                        “He can’t stand these events, so he always hides in between the greeting and then the farewell speech.” The boy shrugged, and Loid sighed. Patience, he was still here in the building. He couldn’t be far away if he typically came back for the ending statements. They would just have to be sitting here waiting for him whenever he came out of whatever hiding hole he found himself in at these events. For the moment however, there was someone else to contend with. 

                        “I see. Well then Damian, there are a lot of people here and not enough tables. You shouldn’t be keeping a table all to yourself. Join us at our table, we just so happen to have a spare seat.” The boy seemed startled, perhaps no one dared invite the son of the National Unity party, and rumored weapons manufacturer, to their table. The Forgers didn’t mind, and they would always have room for one more. 

                        Damian moved as if to protest, but Anya had already hopped down from her seat, and was gently prodding at his ankle with her crutch. The boy sighed heavily, hopping down from the table and joining the two as they began their weaving walk to the other side of the hall, to where the Forger table waited. 

                        “Sir, your daughter is a menace with those crutches.” He huffed, Anya laughing, this apparently being a running joke. To be honest, he didn’t want to know what had earned her that title. 

                         There was a moment of normalcy then, they guided the boy to their table where he was introduced to Yor. The children got sparkling cider, he got wine, and Yor got water. This earned her a “knowing” smile from the waitress, one that neither did anything to dissuade. It wasn’t like they would still be here when the rumors made their way around the school. As the event dragged on, fine plates of food being set before them, his eyes scanned the rim around the hall, seeking the tall man in the gray suit. Nothing, not after the appetizer, the entre, the dinner, even as they dragged into the coffee round and it was clear that the event was starting to wrap up. 

                         Still, Damian was here, and there was his assurance that his dad would make at least one more appearance. Loid couldn’t go off and seek him, Donovan was far too paranoid and suspicious for that, it had to all appear natural. So, he bided his time, ate course after polite course, and tried to distract himself by watching over Anya and Damian. 

                         Theirs was an odd relationship, that was for sure. The two teased each other, but there was no longer any malaise between those words. They were simply teasing friends, and as they became bored, they even shared a few drawings under the table, apparently trying to make each other laugh and appear foolish. Childish games, but ones that Loid allowed to go on, this event was more for adults, and he could see other children like theirs quickly becoming restless. 

                         The hall was now filled with soft hushes from parents, a few groans from the other younger children, and just when it seemed impossible to force a crowd of children and moody teenagers to endure more of this polite atmosphere, a teacher entered the stage. 

                         “Excuse me everyone, excuse me. We would like to invite our scholars to adjourn this hall, and make their way to the science classroom down the hall. There they can mingle amongst each other, form bonds, and the older scholars will serve as mentors to the younger ones.” Anya looked to Loid, and he nodded encouragingly. It wasn’t like his plan would be ruined by allowing her a few more moments of freedom. If they were splitting the children up, then perhaps Donovan would  rejoin the adults for what appeared to be some announcements from staff. 

                        A soft clink as crutches met ground, and Anya was off, Damian beside her. The two adults were left at the table, listening to another teacher drone on about the upcoming school events. Loid shifted his weight, blinked against his tired eyes, and waited for the end of this party. 

                                                                                                                           *******

                        When the blood rushed out of Loid’s face, Yor knew that it was time for the Thorn Princess to take center stage one last time. The party was coming to a close, the students had left the hall, and yet as the closing remarks began, still no Donovan. There was also no Anya or Damian. Yor had just rose to seek them out, against Loid’s protest, when that pale look came over his face. He slipped a hand into his pocket, and took out the small panic button. It was made to be discreet, just a tiny disc the size of a peppermint candy. No sound, only vibrations and a pulsing light would show that it was activated. Yor stared at that pulsing light for only a second before she spun on her heels, running towards the bathroom. 

                       The thing about gossip is, it spreads fast. From the first course when she refused a wine, whispers had begun that she was expecting. This mad dash out of the hallway, conveniently towards the women's restroom, did little more than gather a handful of stares. She would count herself lucky when the day came that all she had to run for was a toilet to throw up into, but now, now she focused on honing her muscles, every fiber of her being tensed and ready. Down the hallway, past the row of children milling about in the science classroom, out to the courtyard, every step closer making the button pulse brighter. It was a rudimentary tracking device, but it was better than nothing. 

                      They flew to the courtyard, down the marble steps of the yard, across the field, and finally, finally , the blinking became so bright it was clear that she was only a few feet away. Her head turned towards the sound of a muffled scream, and she didn’t give even a single thought to slipping her dagger out from its hiding spot, teeth bared as they burst onto the clearing. 

                       Anya was there, crutch on the ground, her mouth covered by a man Yor didn’t recognize, a tall man with a black suit, built like a tank. He matched almost every other thug she had slain back in that awful lab. The other man? Well, the other man that was holding a kicking Damian at arms length, gray eyes that stared down with disapproval, a grimace of annoyance on his rat like face. Donovan Desmond. 

                                                                                                                  ******

                      He was an idiot. Twilight was an idiot, Loid was an idiot . Even as he drew his pistol, aiming at the large man’s forehead, careful to aim far away from Anya, his mind was working a mile a minute. A secret organization built to train espers into weapons of war, a man that was rumored to be the head of the largest weapons manufacturer, a man that was so private he never went out but once a year, his target for all this time. 

                       They were one and the same. 

                        Operation Strix had led him to Anya’s captor. Two missions remained, but only one of them could be fulfilled. Strix hinged on his making Desmond agree to a truce, to reasoning with the man to end a war before it ever began. His mission as Loid, as Anya’s father? 

                         Tear the man that hurt Anya to shreds until nothing remains. 

                         He usually gave mercy. Even back in his days as an underage soldier he didn’t shoot until he absolutely had to, had to aim into the eyes of another man and pull the trigger. He had to kill as Twilight, but even when it made his missions harder, he always tried to find another option. 

                         That was Twilight, and Operation Strix was his mission. As he stood there, pistol aimed squarely, he could feel the last shreds of Twilight leave his body. A clean break, no loose ends. Twilight had died, and soon, so would Desmond. 

                                                                                                                     ******

                          Yor could feel the last of her resolve stripping away, the seconds stretched out, and it took every fiber of her being to not charge into the rat, tear him apart with her bare hands. Loid’s voice broke the silence, even, an underlying silent fury. 

                          “Let them go. Now. Your son has no part in this. Let him go, and let Anya go or else I swear I will-”

                          “Go ahead.” The voice that came out was thick and rusty, clearly a man who spent his time in silence. Loid’s eyebrows furrowed, and his gun swung to the man's face. 

                         “Go ahead and shoot you? I will, gladly. I am giving you the small mercy of not having your son see your brain splattered on the cement. Don't make me repeat myself again.”  

                          A hacking laugh, and the man tilted his head. Under his strong grasp Damian continued to fight, panting as he made desperate punch after desperate punch. 

                         “My son? He won’t see anything of the sort.” Thin pale hands wrapped around the boys throat, and a sharp look of terror came across his face, Anya’s muffled screams and kicking only making the silent man grip her tighter, rough hand across her face. Loid gritted his teeth beside her, pistol still aimed at the man. 

                         “So then, you only care about him being a witness. What, did you try to kidnap Anya but you didn’t count on your son defying you? For once he disobeyed you, and this is your response? I recant my offer then. Get away from these children, or I will ensure that you have a very slow, very painful death.” Yor’s hand was twitching, cold sweat breaking across her forehead. 

                          She felt like a caged dog, at a moment's notice she was ready to spring onto these men, attack them with such force they would never stand again. The only thing that kept them alive was the shields they cowered behind. Damian had begun to cry now, struggling in his fathers tight grasp. Anya was still screaming under the rough hand that muffled her, legs swinging, but doing nothing against the bulk of a man that held her against his chest. 

                         “You kill me, your daughter dies. The world begins a war like it has never seen, and you have an innocent boy's blood on your hands.” Feeble. Damian's kicks were becoming feeble now. God he was choking an innocent child. Loid seemed to consider this option for only a moment, before appearing to lower his gun. 

                          A quick glance to Anya, and her eyes widened, then quickly shut. Yor tensed, and when the shot finally rang out, she sprung into action, Loid’s shot had been true, between the legs of the no longer flailing boy, into the tendon of the man's ankle. The bullet tore through the flesh and tendon with a sick bang, the man crumbling down as his ankle could no longer bear weight, his achilles tendon neatly severed in half. Beside her Loid dashed to the fallen Donovan, neatly kicking him away from Damian whom had crumbled on the ground, his chest was moving and so Yor redirected her attention, she had to move quickly, strike first and not allow the other man a second to regroup.

                          Yor rushed to the man holding Anya, swift punches to the forehead to disarm him, another to the side of the ears to disorient him, a kick to the kneecap, shattering the bone and causing even the largest man to tumble. The man’s hand flew to her hair, yanking on it as the other dropped Anya roughly to the ground, trying to shield his face from the barrage of punches. 

                          If he thought a little hair was enough to stop her then he was an idiot. 

                           Yor ripped her hair out of the man's grasp, delivering a swift punch under his chin, her hair hanging loose now as the giant of a man finally fell to the ground. Yor could feel a small trickle of blood come from her scalp, but it was easy to ignore that pain as the man tried to reach for a gun on his holster, preparing to aim at Anya. Yor’s stiletto knife pierced his hand, exiting the palm, the man screaming as his grip was roughly severed from the gun. Yor kicked the gun far away into the bushes, Anya scrambling away from the fight, towards a similarly engaged Loid and curled up Damian. Yor had to worry about her own fight before she could give Loid backup. 

                          Punch after punch to the face, her dagger forgotten as raw power kept her hand moving, shattering every bond in the man's face until not even his own mother would be able to recognize his corpse. A final neat snap of the neck was all that it took to finish the job. Blood was sprayed across her face, thick droplets clung to her hair, her forehead, her hands. If Damian could shout, the boy likely would have, but he could barely breathe, much less shout or ask questions. Loid had a gun pressed to the now unconscious Desmond's forehead, glancing at the children. 

                          “Damian, I’m sorry you had to endure that. I had to wait until you had stopped flailing to make the shot. Even if that meant waiting until you had passed out. No, don’t speak.” Loid held one hand up, silencing the boy's hoarse whisper, wiping the sweat that had formed across his forehead. 

                           “Trust me, that only makes it worse. Yor, change of plans. Frankie should be here soon, the panic button should have alerted his device. He can take the children to a safe place while we deal with these two.” His eyes glanced over at the giant that had held Anya, and upon seeing the unnatural angle of his neck, he amended his words. 

                           “This one.” 

                           Another glance to Damian, and his face softened, the rage was still there behind his eyes, but he hid it behind the mask of a soft and concerned father. 

                           “Damian, I’m so sorry you’ve lost your father tonight.” The boy only managed a small whimper as Loid swiftly plunged the butt of his pistol into his fathers forehead, ensuring his silence. Yor was free then to join the children, making sure that Damian’s airway was open, and that he was breathing well enough. Frankie would have to take them home, they could call the doctor and have him do a home visit for the boy. Anya seemed unscathed, launching herself into Yor’s bloody arms. She sniffled, Damian joined her, and suddenly Yor found herself clutching two very scared, very hurt children close to her chest. Her rapidly beating heart, adrenaline still pumped through her veins, but the children needed her. Yor took a deep breath, released it, and softened her tone. 

                           “Shhh, shhhh, it’s okay. It’s over, it’s all over. You’re safe. I promise you that you’re safe now. He can’t hurt you anymore. He can’t hurt either of you anymore.” 

                           “Momma, I'm so sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to go off, but- but they snuck up, and Damian was kicking, and I was fighting, and I couldn’t reach my button, and, and-”

                           “Anya take some deep breaths. It’s okay, you were so brave, you two are both so brave.” Her hand caressed Damian's hair, the poor boy leaning into her embrace, deep hoarse sobs wracking his body. 

                            “Damian you are so, so brave. You tried to defend Anya, didn’t you? You did such a good job.” The boy's only response was to sob and dig himself deeper into her embrace. The man who caused such despair in the tiny forms clutching onto her was still breathing, and one glance at Loid told her why. That grim determination remained, his rage fully on display. Her lips curled into a grim smile, her hands already itching for her weapons. They would be getting their answers, one way or another. 

                                                                                                                    *******

                        It was a good thing that he was no longer Twilight, otherwise this would be the worst idea for any spy to have, that is, to enlist the help of a country's secret police in order to interrogate a decorated patriot of their own country. Thankfully, he was no longer Twilight, and even better, this secret police officer held loyalty to family above all else. Anya had a way of endearing herself to others, and it seems that when Yuri said he would do anything for his sister, he would uphold that bargain. It was easy enough to shuffle the children off to safety, take the unconscious man in their car, arrive at Yuri’s apartment, and ask for his assistance. It took less than a few sentences from Yor to fully convince Yuri to assist in their “interrogation.” After all, this man had made Anya cry, and Yor had a bloody scalp to show of her own fight. He was a threat to the happiness of his sister, and Yuri was only too eager to oblige. 

                        Perhaps a little too eager, if Loid was being utterly honest with himself. Still, he had left behind his conscience when he asked Yuri for his help, and it was far too late now to turn back. Donovan was waking up, and they still had questions to ask of him. Yuri set down his tools with an unnerving ease, even humming to himself as he set out knives, small nail files, and other things that Loid honestly didn’t want to know how they would be used.

                         He needed a cigarette. 

                         A grunt came from Donovan as he roused some more, and that same unnerving smile arose on Yuri’s face. He swung his chair around, sitting across from Donovan, his chin resting on his hands on the top of the chair back. Yor hung beside Loid, her face cool and set like steel, not betraying any emotion or hint of guilt. 

                         “Mr. Desmond, it’s so nice to see you! I heard you barely come out of hiding, but my do you make up for lost time, hmm?” Yuri’s head tilted, still grinning as Donovan tried to squirm from his seat, which was futile of course, Loid’s knots would hold, he made sure of that. The man refused to talk, and so Yuri continued. 

                          “Attempting to kidnap my darling niece, letting your goon put his filthy hands on her, causing my sister distress, choking your own son?” Yuri’s red eyes betrayed a flash of rage, but he soon covered it with the mask of uneasy friendliness. 

                          “Oh dear, I really shouldn’t be doing this, you know. After all, you are one of countries main weapons dealers, however, I do consider you a traitor in some regards. After all, if you cause a war in our country, that would hurt the citizens, and you have already caused my sister distress. That makes you a filthy traitor in my eyes.” Yuri leaned over, grabbed one of the smaller knives and began to twirl it effortlessly between his fingers. His eyes examined the sharp edge, not speaking for a moment, the only sound being that of the knife softly clicking between his gloved fingers. With startling speed, his hand gripped the knife, his hand flashed out, and in a mere thrust Donovan’s ear was now missing it’s lobe. The man tried to scream, but Yuri quickly clasped a hand over his mouth. 

                         “None of that please, my neighbor Mrs. Caraway is very old you see, and she has come down with pneumonia. We can’t be disturbing her, she needs a good nights rest to recover from such an awful illness. Now then, tell me, what is the organization that you run?” 

                         Yuri released his hand from the man's mouth, instead of a response he only earned a harsh growl, Donovan going to struggle once again. Yuri merely rolled his eyes, flicked his hand, and a matching cut was made on the other side of his face, his other ear matching and both free flowing with blood. 

                          “I always hate this part, you know, it is so pathetic because I know what is going to happen next. A few more rounds of what I can do to you and you will eventually reveal your secrets, they all do. I will only ask you once more Mr. Desmond. What exactly is your organization?” 

                          Donovan stared him down, mouth not moving to utter a word, and Yuri stood then, gloved hands gripping Donovan by his hair, slamming down his face until his nose broke, blood splattered across the wooden table, the banging noise resonating across the room. 

                           Bang

                          Bang

                          Bang

                           Yuri didn’t stop until his nose was thoroughly broken, and he had worked up a sweat. Yuri brushed his hand across his forehead, if he noticed the trail of blood this action left behind, he didn’t acknowledge the stain. Instead he dropped the smile, shaking his head. 

                          “If Mrs. Caraway wakes up, I can ensure that you won’t be able to make another sound. Everyone thinks that I would have to leave your tongue intact for interrogation, but you would be surprised how neatly someone can write out a confession while choking on their own blood.” Yuri pulled the chair out, turned it to face the table, and sat down with his hands neatly folded in front of him. 

                           “Name. Now.” His head tilted as Desmond sputtered out not a name, but a curse. Yuri sighed, glancing back at Yor and Loid. 

                           “I’m sorry you have to see me like this Yor. I tried to play nice until now. If you would rather, you two can wait in the living room?” 

                           “No, thank you Yuri. I want to hear it for myself.” Yor’s voice was cold and harsh, it was almost unnerving to see how easy it was for her to leave Yor Forger behind and slip into her role as the Thorn Princess. As for Loid, while his stomach was turning, he would hold it together. He had to get as much information as he could, he had to know . Yuri smiled again, shrugging. 

                            “Alright, then I guess I can really get to work now.” 

                                                                                                                      *******

                            The night was long, and Donovan was missing most of his fingers before he finally began to speak. His voice was ragged, trying to keep himself from fainting away from the pain and blood loss. Still, he was talking now, and that was all that mattered. Loid stared him down in his bloodshot eyes, noting every word the scum said. 

                            “We seek to free the world from the impurities of Westalis. The past war should have wiped them all out, started a clean slate, and yet we signed that ridiculous peace treaty. It never should have happened. The National Unity Party seeks to destroy that fragile peace, and I could only do that through my dealing with weapons.” 

                            Yuri flicked some indiscernible glob of flesh off of the table, and leaned in as if to hear him better. 

                            “What kind of weapons? Surely you can’t simply mean guns and tanks?” 

                            There was silence, Yuri’s hand only had to flick towards the nail file before Donovan once again opened his mouth. 

                             “No, of course not. We wanted to kill Westalis from the inside out, make them rot from their very core. We wanted to infiltrate their government, their entire country.” He took a breath, his eyes glancing over towards Yor and Loid. 

                             “007 was supposed to be our best chance of that. She managed to unlock her special skills, and was showing very good promise, she was actually reading minds. She could have been a patriot for her country. She escaped before we could begin her training in earnest.” 

                              Loid gritted his teeth, but let Yuri continue his calm questioning. 

                             “I see. You claim to be able to use children to read minds. Now then, how did you find these children, and how did you unlock their abilities?” 

                             “They were gifted to us by the patriots of this country, people who know true loyalty to Ostania.” Loid’s stomach dropped, and he couldn’t stop the words that flew from his mouth. 

                              “Anya’s parents gave her up to you?!” Donovan's eyes regarded him with pure disgust. 

                              “Yes, her parents know true fealty, not something anyone in Westalis could ever hope to understand. Of course, some other parents needed more…Convincing. They all came around in the end however, and if they didn’t, well, there are always plenty of orphans in a post war world.” 

                              Yor tensed beside him, and Loid set his hand on hers, Yuri raising a hand. 

                              “I see, now then, you didn’t answer my second question.” Yuri moved to slide the nail file under the one remaining fingernail that Donovan had left, but the man spoke hastily to stop its advance. Yuri dropped the file, but kept a firm grip on Donovan. 

                         “We examined them for innate ability, they were tested on their skills, medical staff were always on standby!” Yuri smiled, clapping his hands, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

                         “Ah, wonderful! You made sure there was a doctor to tend to the kidnapped children!” He dropped his voice then, glaring down at Donovan. 

                         “Why would you need medical staff on standby, hmm?” 

                          Donovan paled, casting his eyes down before once again Yuri grabbed his finger. 

                         “They had to be kept in line! Some of the tests were in high stress situations, seeing if they could read minds against someone that was trying to attack them, we found that fear and stress could unlock their powers.” Yuri laughed then, his head tilted. 

                         “Ah, I see, and you think that this is a simple sacrifice then, for the better of all of Ostania I'm sure you told yourself that, yes? Only, it’s so easy to make that sacrifice when it’s not you suffering the consequences, is it not?” 

                         Yuri leaned in, his hand now holding the blood tinged knife. 

                        “I need the names of everyone who dared lay their hands on Anya. Any traitor that interacted with my precious niece will be made to endure their own sacrifice .”

                         Donovan growled, staring at Yor. 

                         “Most of them are dead now, thanks to her.” Yuri paused then, glancing back at Yor. 

                         “Is this true?” 

                         One last secret to be revealed it seemed, Loid gripped Yor’s hands as she gathered her breath. 

                          “Yes, it’s true Yuri. I…I did a lot to keep us afloat, and-”

                          Yuri raised a hand, looking back at Donovan. 

                          “You did what you had to do, you don’t need to tell me anything more than that Yor. I trust you. Now then, Donovan, I think we are just about done with you. You will give me the names of all who hurt Anya, but that should be the end of your use. How would you like to be disposed? One usually doesn’t get to think of their death with full certainty, but then again, you are truly special. Would you like me to choke you like you choked your own child? Oh, or how about I try to unlock your own psychic powers? No, perhaps you deserve a traitor's death, a gunshot to the back of the head, like a dog being put down.” He seemed to consider these options, Donovan's face having gone utterly pale. 

                            “Oh, don’t look like that! Did you actually think you would make it out of this alive? You hurt my niece, and my sister. Not to mention other children, whom we now have to track down! Really, this is such a troublesome state of affairs.” 

                            “You wouldn’t dare kill me. The National Unity Party will see that you are hung for this, and the war will begin in earnest!” 

                             Yuri laughed, standing up then. 

                             “No, I don’t think they will. Not after my commander in the Secret Police gets the papers detailing your party's treason against the country. Our citizens are tired of war, and yet your group wishes to start it again. You kidnapped and tormented Ostanian children, that is more than enough to warrant a search of its members. It will be hard to regroup when your whole party is dissolved and in prison. Or worse.” Yuri shrugged, glancing back when Yor slipped something in his hand. A glint of gold, and Yor folded Yuri’s fingers around her necklace, the small vial dangling from Yuri’s fingertips. . 

                             “Thank you, Yuri, for everything. Please just, just know that I will always support and love you.” Yuri’s face fell for a moment, but even as tears formed at the edge of his red eyes, he grinned. 

                              “Ah, and here I was looking forward to spending Christmas with Anya, I even had a gift picked out for you both.” He glanced over at Loid. 

                              “You were getting two dalc wine.” Despite it all, Loid smiled. 

                              “That would have been fine with me, it’s the thought that counts.” 

                              “God you’re insufferable.” Yuri looked to Yor, a sad smile on his face. 

                              “Take care of yourself, alright? If this bum doesn’t treat you right I will always have a room open for you and Anya.” 

                              “I know. Thank you Yuri. Please, don’t worry about me.” Loid felt her hand tighten around his. 

                             “The Forgers will be happy.” 

                                                                                                                  Epilogue 

                           The air is crisp and cool in the small sleepy Alp town. Swisse was peaceful, a country known for its neutrality. Newspapers that made their way into town showed articles about the lost children of Ostania being returned to their homes, or otherwise being taken into foster care. The National Unit Party was dissolved and its remaining members were awaiting their trials or had mysteriously died in accidents or apparent suicides. This news was the gossip of the town, but in a faraway sort of manner. No, the people of this town were more concerned with enjoying the emerging spring. 

                           Bright wildflowers dotted the field behind their small cottage, and from his spot in the kitchen Loid could see Anya chasing Bond through the field of flowers, her limp affecting her gait but nothing could stop her as she raced the playful dog through the maze they had made for themselves amongst the flowers. If he tilted his head he could see Yor hanging up white sheets on their clothesline, the cool air making the sheets flutter like sails. 

                           Her hair was down, the wind gently scattered her raven strands among her face. She had stopped to watch Anya play, when her eyes were drawn to the kitchen window. She grinned, apparently pleased to have caught Loid in the act of staring at his beautiful wife. The laundry basket was resting on her hip, and she waved him out with one hand. Loid set down the potato he was peeling, slid off his apron, and joined her outside. The air was fragrant with the wildflowers, and he joined Yor beside the clothesline, watching as Anya was finally caught by the large dog and swept up in a storm of licks from Bond. 

                          “How are you doing Mrs. Vogel?” 

                          “Quite well Mr. Vogel.” Yor chuckled a bit, her hand gripping his. 

                          “We have this Loid.”

                         “Yes. we do.” 

                         Everyone is formed of missing pieces, parts of them they need to fill, either through their own work, or through others. The former Forgers just happened to find that what they were missing was in each other. Loid looked at his wife, a sly smile on his face. 

                          “We can always have more.” Yor’s hand gripped his tighter, her eyes locked on his. 

                           “Yes, we can.” 

                          Loid bent his head towards her, locking in a gentle kiss, one it seemed they would have to continue later as they heard a joyful voice echo to them from far down the hill. 

                          “EWWWWW momma and papa are flirting again!”

                          Loid could only laugh as Yor shouting back with equal joyfulness. 

                           “Yes they are! Annnnnd momma’s gonna get you!”

                          It seemed like the potatoes would have to wait, because right now, Loid needed to rescue his daughter, tearing down the hill, right on the heels of Yor. He caught up to Anya first, whisking the giggling mess of a child into his arms, blocking her playfully from Yor. 

                         “Papa! You saved me!”

                          Loid pressed a kiss to her forehead, nodding. 

                         “I suppose I did.”