Chapter Text
Gentle beeping was the first thing she noticed as she slowly awoke. The second was how heavy her limbs felt. Groaning she blinked her eyes open, wincing at the bright light that greeted her. It took a while for her to fully wake up, but when she did, she regretted it. Anya hated hospitals and being bedridden, so for both to be happening right now, she was pissed.
Scratching at the trocar sight on her arm, Anya tried to grumpily remember what happened to her. Her body was rather battered, with one leg in a cast, propped up awkwardly on some pillows, while her arms were covered in scratches and bruises, and was that singed skin? Pushing the light sheet that covered her aside, she saw thick bandages wrapped around her torso, causing a raised eyebrow.
“God damn.” She murmured, tracing the white wrappings carefully.
Obviously, she’d had a mission go wrong to be in such a state, which was rather surprising. She was a pro at avoiding sneak attacks, always sticking to the shadows and surveillance instead of direct fighting as she didn’t particularly like getting her hands bloody. Besides her Papa had strongly opposed her joining his field of work, and only agreed to train her if she stuck to recon. Had it been a new moon the night she was hurt? She couldn’t recall. But the faint memory of fire and collapsing building was tugging at her brain. Huffing she pulled the sheet back up, resigning herself to waiting for someone to come in.
Looking around her surroundings, she noticed that her room was small and empty, aside from a couple of chairs at her bedside and a table under the window sill. The curtains were pulled, but there was some sunlight coming in, so she guessed it was nearing evening time. A few bunches of flowers littered the table, and judging from their varying states of decay, they had been brought in over a couple of days. There were some cards scattered amongst them, and she strained to reach them to read. As she vainly grasped at mid-air, wishing she had telekinetic powers, a lower chuckle reached her ears.
“So you’re awake.”
Anya glanced over her shoulder at the door, pausing mid stretched when she saw the man leaning there.
“Holy fuck, you look like shit!” She gasped, earning another laugh.
“Pot calling kettle.” Damian jeered, limping into the room, his IV pole trailing behind him. Anya smiled, watching as he made his way over to the chair beside her, gingerly lowering himself into the seat.
“You okay?”
“I’ll live.”
It was their normal phrase, always spoken after one of them got injured. But Anya couldn’t remember a time where both were as invalid as they were now. She eyed his obvious injuries, noting how stiffly he sat, his breathing a little shallow. Though she was dying to know how she could help him, she knew he wouldn’t tell her. Instead she asked how long she had been asleep.
“Dunno, a few days? I only woke up yesterday myself.” He shrugged, wincing in regret immediately. She mentally noted it, frowning in concern, but continued on.
“What happened? I don’t remember much.”
“Smugglers must have set up some kind of trip wire that triggered an explosion. We obviously didn’t see it when escaping.”
“I was shot.” She murmured, details coming back slowly. “Fell down the stairs.”
“Yeah, broke your leg when I broke your fall.” Damian nodded.
“Yet you still carried me out. The building exploded as we made it through the door. I would have been caught in the blast if you hadn’t.” Anya looked at him gratefully. “Thanks for that.”
“What are partners for?” He grinned, and she ignored the flutter of her heart as she returned his smile. It had been happening a lot more lately, and she was nervous to address it. Their friendship was complicated, mutinous since they were children. Though they had shared their fair share of arguments, coming to blows a few times, there was no one else she would trust with her life than him. She wasn’t too sure what to call this thing before them now. Partners for WISE, yes; paired together when they were scouted after school, unknown to the other. It had taken some time, but they had built a strong bond of trust over the years, one that could only come from saving each other’s asses.
Friends? For sure. It was different from being school friends though, deeper on another level, but there were definitely secrets they still withheld from each other. Friends seemed too casual and insignificant though, and left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Lovers?
Well, there had been a few nights where someone would end up in the other’s bed. Usually after a difficult mission or an argument with friends and family. They always said it didn’t mean anything, just an act of stress relief. Forget that in the mornings afterwards she’d hold him close to her chest when he sighed, or he’d make her favourite breakfast without saying a word. She tried not to think about their most recent tryst, one spurred by pure action instead of excuses. Of how his hands glided across her skin like he was worshipping her, or the hushed words of affection that spilled from their lips. Words neither had addressed in the following days leading up to this failed mission. Eyeing him now, she wondered if she should say something. Finally get the closure they both needed. But the words that came out instead were about work, as per usual.
“How badly were you injured.”
“It was nothing major. A few scraps and burns. Broke some ribs.” Damian replied cagily, making her frown. Seeing her look he waved a hand dismissively. “Seriously, I’m fine.”
“I call bullshit. You hobbled in here like you still had that stick up your arse.” She snapped, folding her arms across her chest angrily.
“I had that surgically removed years ago, you know that.”
“You said you just woke up. Whatever injuries you have had to been bad enough to land you in hospital too.”
“So maybe I hit my head during the fall, so what? I’m here aren’t I?”
She didn’t like it, but decided to let it slide, knowing they’d just go in circles otherwise. Sighing she settled back against her pillows, pondering that night. A few more memories were coming back, staticky and jumpy, mixed with Damian’s thoughts and remembrance.
“Do you know what happened after we go hurt?”
“No, Handler didn’t say a word to me yesterday, just gave me this long, sad look.” Damian muttered, screwing his nose up in annoyance. “I do know there was a huge inferno, and from snippets I’ve overheard a few of the smugglers escaped. Though, there were a few charred bodies found if the rumours are true.”
“What about the stolen goods we recovered? Did WISE get them?”
“I’m not sure. I had some tucked in my socks, but I can’t find those either.” He said, looking around the room thoughtfully as if they were shoved away here. Anya snorted at this, noticing his slippered feet. He never had been one to be barefoot, hating the feel of dirt and grime against his toes.
“They’ll turn up.” She chuckled, before a horrifying thought crossed her mind. “The kids!”
“Huh?” Damian asked, looking at her in confusion.
“My kids? What am I going to tell them when I return to school?”
“Seriously, you just woke up after a horrific mission, and your concern is your students?”
“My students are my world.” Anya growled, and he rolled his eyes knowingly.
“Alright, alright. The Handler probably has that sorted already. Most like said you got mugged.”
“They’ll never believe that.” She whined, pouting sullenly, “I’m a bad ass in their eyes.”
“Yeah, tripping into the classroom almost daily is really a sign of how bad ass you are.” He teased, eyes twinkling as she scowled.
“Well, what about you? Mr Senator in running?”
“Easy, I'm out of the country. I had that tripped planned to Westalis already, so I just went ahead earlier.”
“Oh yeah, I was sad about that.” She murmured, her heart aching already. Damian just barked out a laugh and reached out to hold her hand.
“I’m not going anywhere idiot. Not for a while now at least.” A beep interrupted them and he looked out into the hallway. “Though, I should probably head back to my room before the nurse does her rounds. I’ve snuck out a few times already to check on you, and they’re after my head for moving so much.”
“Go on then dickhead. I’ll catch up with you later.” She chuckled, squeezing his hand gently. He grinned in response, using her support to get to his feet stiffly. Leaning over he kissed her forehead carefully, and she winced when she realised she had a bruise there.
“I’ll see you soon.” He murmured against her hairline, before pulling away with an affectionate smile. Anya suddenly wanted to grab hold of him and pull his body against hers, keeping him within arm's reach. But she let him go, fingers slipping out from his as he hobbled out of the room. The room felt cold in his absence, and she shivered involuntarily. They really did need to talk about...feelings. Soon too, or she was going to combust.
She wasn’t alone for long though, as another visitor came knocking soon after.
“Agent Starlight, glad to see you’re awake.” Sylvia smiled, striding into the room with her usual elegance. Anya beamed up at the older woman, having always admired her.
“Handler! Good to be awake.” She chirped, waving for the lady to sit down. She did so in the seat Damian recently vacated, not commenting on the warmth he left behind.
“You gave us a bit of a scare the other day. Your father was beside himself when he heard about the fire.”
“He worries too much. I’m fine.” Anya snorted, knowing that Loid had probably raged through the WISE headquarters, demanding answers as soon as she was found.
“The fire was pretty intense. Not many survived it.” Sylvia pointed out, a small frown gracing her brow.
“Damian must have gotten us to safety before it got too out of control. I think the blast knocked us a fair distance.” Anya said, smiling brightly, confident in her answer.
“He must have.” Sylvia agreed, though there was a hint of sadness in her tone. “Look, Anya, we’ve been talking about the mission and we think-”
“Oh, yes the mission! What happens now? When do we get to go back to work?” Anya interrupted, eager to fix her mistakes. “I know we screwed up, getting caught like that, but we can fix that. We’ve got months of research on our side, and I’m sure we can figure out where their new hide out is.”
Sylvia’s frown had deepened, but before she could say anything a nurse bustled her way in. Upon seeing Anya was awake, she cheerfully greeted her and ask how she was feeling. Sylvia stayed silent as she performed numerous tests on her patient, recording everything in detail. Overall, the nurse seemed happy with her condition, stating that she’d be out of hospital in a few days. At this Anya turned to her boss brightly, proof that she could get back to work soon.
“Anya, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Sylvia began, concern laced in every word. “You must have hit your head during the explosion.”
“No, I don’t think I did. Damian did though. He didn’t say how bad it was, but the bandage on his head was starting to stain when he left.” Anya replied, shaking her head slowly. The nurse froze at her words, worry etched on her face.
“What did you say?” She asked, lowering her clipboard carefully.
“That his wound had reopened and was bleeding. Maybe you need to go check on him? He doesn’t like to admit he’s hurt, so it may be an argument to get him to cooperate.” She warned, watching as the nurse exchanged a look with the Handler.
“That’s not good. Head injuries can cause all sorts of problems.” The nurse muttered, scribbling something down on a separate piece of paper. “Ms Sherwood, can you come see me at the desk after your visit? We may need to go over your employees’ medical charts.”
“Yes, thank you Nurse Barlowe.” Sylvia agreed, nodding to the nurse as she took her leave. Once she was out of the room, she turned back to Anya, frowning still.
“Starlight,” She began, making Anya wince. Nothing ever good came out of that name in that tone, “You’re on bedrest for the foreseeable future. Once you’ve recovered from your injuries, we’ll discuss your future. For now, rest and...be kind to yourself. I’ll see you in a few days.”
Anya couldn’t argue with her, watching with annoyed eyes as Syliva got to her feet, leaving the young woman in the confines of her bed. She saw how Nurse Barlowe had hovered in the hallway, now speaking in hushed whispers with the Handler, before heading off towards Damian’s room. Huffing she flung herself back on the bed, ignoring the pain in her abdomen. She hated bedrest. It left her bored and feeling useless. Drumming her fingers against her chest, she wondered if she could convince her father to smuggle in some files for her to read, just so she could regroup on what had happened. She wasn’t kidding when she said her and Damian had an extensive amount of research to go over. It was one of the traits he hadn’t been able to shake leaving school, always having obscene need to over study everything. It was admittedly useful though she would never say it out loud.
The afternoon dragged into evening, and she spent most of the time staring at the ceiling until she felt tired. No one interacted outside her hallway, and she couldn’t hear any snippets of interesting conversation drifting down from the desk. With no other patients in the room to converse with Anya was feeling bored. She couldn’t even leave her bed to walk around, as there was nothing she could use as a crutch for her leg.
She was recounting the holes in the tiles when Yor and Loid arrived, smiling at her sadly. She perked up instantly, beaming at them both.
“Mama, Papa! I’m so glad to see you.” She cheered, wriggling into an upright position, waving them over excitedly. Yor’s bottom lip trembled, and she rushed over to hug her daughter tightly, squeezing her a bit too hard.
“Oh my poor baby!” She wailed, ignoring Anya’s choke. “You are never allowed to go on such dangerous missions again, you hear me?”
“Mama! The closest I’ve come to dying is right now if you don’t release me.” Anya wheezed, urgently patting her back as all the air was squished from her lungs. Yor hastily stepped back, looking guilty but she kept her hands on Anya’s small shoulders. Loid appeared besides her, looking grim as usual when it came to Anya’s spy career.
“You really did a number this time Starlight.” He muttered, critical eyes roving over her wounds. “I might have to agree with your mother on the no dangerous missions. Or spying at all.”
“Papa, I’m twenty three! I’m old enough to make my own decisions.” She whined, brushing Yor’s fussing hands aside as she tried to peek behind the bandage on her shoulder. “And I love being a spy. It’s my dream.”
“A dangerous dream.” Loid grumbled, folding his arms. “You should stick to being a teacher. Far less trouble with that.”
“Say that to the lead embedded in my leg thanks to that snotty third grader.” She snorted. “Besides, Handler has put me on a bed rest for the foreseeable future. I’m not going to be engaging in petty crimes for a while if she can help it.”
Loid didn’t look impressed, but decided to let it go. Stubbornness was a Forger personality trait, and they had learnt over the years that it often led to recklessness. That wasn’t to say they never clashed, especially as Anya got older, but their fights had de-escalated from biting words and slamming doors, to long annoyed stare downs until one of them buckled grudgingly. Besides, he looked sad right now and she wanted to change the subject.
“How’s Hugo?” She asked, watching as a flicker of something burned in her father’s gaze. He was silent for a moment, struggling internally with a thought she couldn’t quite read, but eventually deflated and let out a small sigh.
“He’s good. Worried about you, but good.”
“He’s top runner for a Stella Star after his last exam!” Yor added, looking proud of her baby boy. “He wanted to come and see you, but we weren’t sure if you’d be awake.”
“I’d love to catch up with him. It’s been a while.” Anya sighed, trying to remember the last time she’d seen her little brother.
“Let’s arrange to have dinner when you’re released. Go to that restaurant you both like.” Loid suggested, laying a gentle hand on Yor’s shoulder.
“Oh, that’d be nice! Though I would die for one of your home cooked roasts Papa. It’s been so long. Should we invite Damian as well? Hugo probably missed him more than me if we’re honest.” She chuckled, only for her parents to smile weakly. “Too soon on the dying jokes? Okay, I’ll stop.”
“Yeah. Too soon.” Yor croaked, tears building up in her eyes as she reached out a hand to run over her daughter’s cheeks. Anya leaned into it with a sigh.
“Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Also...” Yor trailed off, looking uncomfortable. “Maybe we should keep dinner just a family affair this time round? I was thinking of inviting Yuri and you know how he and Damian clash.”
“Omph, fair point. Okay, I won’t invite him. Plus he did say he was meant to be out of the country right now. Rumours would fly if he was spotted with us.” Anya agreed, though she felt a little bitter about it.
The family talked about a range of topics for a while, cautiously catching up and avoiding Anya’s line of work. But eventually visiting hours were over, and they had to leave. As they said goodbye, she reminded them to pop in and say hello to Damian as well. He probably hadn’t had any visitors, and a friendly face would be welcomed.
“We’ll do that honey.” Loid smiled, before gently steering Yor out of the room. Anya watched them go, frowning slightly.
Why did he lie?
___________________________________________________________________________________
The clack of her crutches against the lino was rhythmic, giving away how excited she was to be back. A few other agents watched as she passed, some giving her small waves in greeting. Those she gladly returned, but she didn’t like the thoughts churning in everyone’s heads.
Why is she back?
Isn’t it too soon?
Especially after what happened...
She ignored them all, making her way to the Handler’s office. Let them think what they wanted. She’d been on bed rest for ages, it was about time she got back into the swing of things!
Damian was already waiting for her, leaning against the wall outside, tapping his foot nervously. He had recovered quicker than she had, but also wasn’t allowed back on the main job until he proved he was physically fit. He had grumbled about this to her numerous times, bored of paper pushing and hiding out in his flat. Looking at him now, the only evidence he had been hurt was the thin line of stiches along his forehead, easily hidden by his fringe. He lit up when he saw her- or heard her really- standing up properly to greet her.
“Are you ready?” He asked, reaching out to help her, steadying her wavering body.
“As I’ll ever be.” She grinned, accepting the help gratefully. Her nerves were making her shaky, and she was finding standing a little hard. Not that she’d admit any of that, given the nature of her call, but he always knew when she needed a helping hand.
“She’s going to be so mad.” He whispered as he knocked on the door.
“We’ve faced worse.” She agreed as a voice called for them to come in.
Slowly they pushed open the door, walking in with bright smiles. It was a mistake. Sylvia just frowned at their presence, putting down the files in her hands.
“Whatever it is, no.” She said in lieu of greeting and Anya and Damian gave her guilty smiles. “You’re not even meant to be here.”
“Okay, but hear us out-” Anya started to say only for a hand to be help up to stop her.
“No.”
“But you-”
“No Agent Starlight. You’re not ready to go back to work.”
“Please Handler, she’s been driving me nuts with her whining about not being able to do anything.” Damian interjected, earning a hard glare. “Can we at least have the mission report to go over, so we know-”
“Agent, I’ve said it enough already, no. You’re not ready to go back out into the field or to work on this case. Do not make me repeat myself again.”
“Can I at least help out with paperwork? I’m so bored.” Anya asked, but gulped when Sylvia narrowed her eyes at her.
“Focus on your cover job Starlight. That should tide you over enough.”
They knew when they were being dismissed, so with a heavy sigh they turned to leave. But Damian seemed to still have some fight in him, and in a very Anya move he turned back to face the Handler.
“Handler, can you please reconsider? We’ve poured so much time and energy into this case, it’d be a waste to let it go now. There’s something about it that we haven’t grasped just yet, but we were so close. We can figure it out. Just give us a chance to-”
“Enough Agent. You’re off the case, and that is final.”
“But why?!” Damian yelled, slamming his hands on the desk, scattering some pages. “Why punish us for an unforeseen accident? Other agents get away with worse.”
Sylvia just levelled him with a long, hard look, one that he returned just as sourly.
“No. You’re not emotionally ready.” She said eventually, bending to pick up her files. “Now leave before I get angry.”
Damian scowled but did as he was told, helping Anya out of the office as he did.
“What was that?” She hissed at him as they left. “Who was that in there?”
“I took a leaf out of your book.” He sighed, running a worried hand through his hair. “Thought it might work given how she bends over backwards for you.”
“Well, thank you for trying anyway.”
“Don’t feel like it was enough.” He grumbled, but softened at her smile. “Listen, I’ve got to go work on a campaign speech my brother has been pushing for. Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine. Should really work on my schedule for class anyway.” She sighed, hating that the Handler was correct in there being a lot of work to catch up on in her teaching role.
“Okay, I’ll catch up with you later then.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze before leaving her alone in the hallway, unsure as to what to do. Glancing over her shoulder at the door to the office, she considered arguing again, but her better judgement won out. She’d try again when the Handler wasn’t in a mood. Maybe bribe her with the tea she liked. For now, she’d take this loss. There was a headache brewing behind her eyes as well that she needed to take care off. It was making them water.
Returning to school was a hollow affair. The students were over joyed to see her, piling her with handmade cards and scribbles of ‘art’ that she proudly displayed along her desk. Her colleagues gave her sympathetic smiles, asking how she was and had they caught the guys that had mugged her yet?
Anya would just smile and shake her head, thanking them for their concern. She wasn’t particularly close with any of them, finding them incredibly fake, so their usual condescending thoughts didn’t unnerve her. Their genuine sympathy did though, and she wondered if it was the thought of being on a crutch while around children, or the healed bullet wound in her side that was causing it. It was something she wished she could talk about with Becky, but her best friend was in some remote town half way across the world, researching about their culture. She probably hadn't even heard about the ‘attack’, which was probably for the best in hindsight. Anya would never get a moment of peace otherwise.
Due to her relation with her workmates, Anya never left to join them for lunch, preferring to eat by herself. Though extroverted to an extent, she enjoyed the quiet time, using it to prep her cases.
She was settled in her desk chair, preparing to do just that, when a knock sounded at the door
“Yes?” She called, taking a mouthful of roast chicken sandwich as she did. Damian poked his head in making her choke, and he hurriedly entered to hit her on the back. After dislodging the mouthful, Anya swallowed it down with some water, looking at him in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” She hissed, waving for him to sit down. “You’re supposed to be out of the country.”
“I got bored. Thought you might want some lunch, but I see you’ve got that covered.” He shrugged, putting aside the tightly wrapped plastic bag he had been carrying. Anya sniffed the air, realising he had gotten her favourite Thai food and bit of drool escaped her lips.
“What’s the occasion?” She asked, prodding at it curiously. Damian scratched the back of his neck nervously, a slight blush dusting his cheeks.
“Just cause?” He stuttered, making her stare at him in disbelief. He was buttering her up for something. Glancing at the container, she considered it thoughtfully. It did smell amazing. And she was weak.
“Okay, what is it?” She sighed, pulling the container towards her. Damian laughed, taking her discarded sandwich from her desk.
“I’ve been thinking about the mission and I had an idea.” He said, plucking the tomatoes out with distaste before taking a bite. “Did your dad make this?”
“Yeah, leftovers from dinner the other night.”
“How’d that go?”
“Awkward. They want me to come stay with them until I’m back on my feet. Told them I was perfectly fine. Hugo says hi by the way.” Oh gosh, the curry was delicious. Munching happily, she pointed her spoon at him. “Don’t avoid the subject. What’s your idea?”
He slowly chewed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. It was on the smaller side, considering it was a children’s classroom, but the only other option was her desk. Eventually he swallowed and reached a hand into his jacket, pulling out a small stack of papers.
“I may have acquired part of the mission statement that no one wants to share with us.” He began, noticing how she lit up. Anya made grabby hands for it, but he kept them out of reach. “It’s not pretty, and there’s a lot of information missing, but you have to promise you won’t freak out when you read it.”
“When have I ever freaked out?”
He shot her a look.
“Okay, so maybe once or twice, but I’ll be good. Now gimmie.” She managed to snatch them from him, falling back into her seat with a satisfied ‘hmph’. The eye roll he gave her was fond but annoyed, and she ignored it as she skimmed through the statement. He was right, it wasn’t pretty, and she winced at their obvious mistakes. The details of their injuries weren’t fully documented, and she found half his file was missing. But what she read made her frown, lowering the to look at him suspiciously.
“You lied!”
“Half truths.” Damian hedged, picking up the other half of her sandwich.
“You suffered a lot more than a concussion and some broken ribs.”
“The bleeding was internal. It was fine.”
“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”
“I’m sure I’ve said worse.”
Anya pinched between her eyebrowed, not wanting to argue with him. He was right, he said some incredibly stupid stuff at school, but she needed to focus on now. He was fine, sitting before her, cheekily chewing on her food. His gaze kept darting to the roti she hadn’t touched yet, and she pushed it towards him sullenly.
“How’d you get these anyway? Wasn’t the Handler hounding them?”
“Yes. She dropped them when we saw her last week.”
Anya’s eyes widened as she caught on. “You stole them off her desk?”
“Borrowed. Uplifted. Took for now.” Damian shrugged, looking a little proud of himself. “Those competitions with Emile weren’t for nothing.”
“Though the target items you procured weren’t exactly innocent back then either.” Anya smirked behind her glass. His blush flared across his face, and he cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Yes, will, we were teenage boys. But that’s not the point. The point is these are copies of the original files. I snuck those back when she left for the day. That was a mission in itself.”
“Proud of you.” Anya murmured, still grinning as she looked back at the files. She contemplated them with another mouthful of curry, an inkling of Damian’s idea starting to take hold.
“You want to continue the investigation behind the Handler’s back don’t you.”
He sighed grandly, a pleading look in his eye.
“Tell me I’m stupid for thinking that. She’d have our necks if she knew.”
“But she won’t. I think it’s a great idea.”
“Of course you do.” He muttered, remembering how he had channelled her when he did it. She sent him a nasty look, but he ignored it, anxiously chewing on the roti.
“Do we risk another break in? Copy the rest?”
“That’s the thing. Handler has already passed this off to someone else.”
“Who?
Damian shifted uncomfortably.
“Who, Damian.”
“Pops.”
Well. Shit.
“Yeah, found out when I popped in the other day. I didn’t think he’d tell you.”
“Probably thought I’d freak out. No wonder he was so tense at dinner.” She pouted, propping her chin on her knuckles, the other hand drumming against her desk.
“Look as much as I respect Pops, he doesn’t understand this case like we do. Or know of that one clue you can’t stop puzzling over.
“The shoe.” She murmured, remembering the small, children’s loafer she had found during one recon.
“You’ve always rebelled against him, and I’m sure you want to again, but-”
“It’s Papa.” She finished with a sigh, seeing Damian nod. She considered it for a few moments, before looking back at the files. She could easily get the rest. That wasn’t the problem. Her father probably expected that of her. It was the long-lasting disappointment he’d lord over her head if she failed again, disguised as over caring about her mental health. She’d had a few close calls already, hence the background work. Having Damain as her partner helped, but her impulsiveness usually went unchecked when they argued. But he was here, wanting to see this one through just as much as her. They were on the same page for once.
“Let’s do it. I’ll handle his disappointment later if we fail.” She decided, excitement sparking in her veins. “Give me a few days to get the rest and we can meet at my house to go over it. We can finish this.”
The bell rang as Damian gave her a dimpled smile, and she found her mirroring it unconsciously. Yeah, they could do this, together like usual. They’d prove they were more than their mistakes. Make a case that even the SSS couldn’t ignore.
“It’s a date then Agent Starlight.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________
“Why did we think we could do this?”
There was paper for miles. Every nook and cranny of her lounge seemed to be filled with something relating to the investigation. Damian sat opposite her, scratching his head with his pen, as she flopped back dramatically into the pile behind her.
“Pops sure takes detailed notes.” He murmured, slowly deciphering Twilight’s code.
“Yes, but his writing is terrible.”
“Not true. He wrote like this on purpose. You can tell by the strokes.” Damian pointed out, leaning over her to show an example. “He definitely knew you’d steal these from him.”
“Which means what’s true and what’s false? I tried figuring it out from his thoughts, but he kept going in circles, just like we have for hours now.” She said, propping herself up on her elbows to glare at him. Damian didn’t back away, still leaning on her knees, and just tapped at the paper he was holding again.
“Cause he put more effort into his lies. It was harder for him to come up with fabricated scenarios then disguise the truth.”
“Really?” She snatched the paper, reading through it carefully. “Papa is getting slack.”
“Don’t let him hear you saying that.”
“He’s also going deaf. He’ll never know.”
She sat up, still reading over the file. Damian’s warm weight on her thighs was comforting, and she liked the way his hair tickled her forehead when he craned his neck to look at the paper upside down.
“Seems we were right about the second location along the wharf.” He murmured, pointing to the written text that stated this, “Though it seems that they cleared that out last week.”
“What about the hideout across the city? That wasn’t as well documented.”
“Dunno, but it’s a start.”
“Shall we go for a drive?”
Damian raised his head, frowning at her. His nose was barely brushing hers, warm breath on her lips, but she couldn’t focus on that right now.
“You’re still in a cast Anya.” He scolded, tapping on her leg gently. “You can’t go.”
“But how else are we meant to get intel?”
“I’ll go.”
“But you can’t drive.”
“Neither can you.”
“Cast is on my right leg. I can still work the clutch.”
They stared at each other, trying to figure out a solution.
“Bus?”
He snorted.
Turns out, buses still ran to that side of town this late. The ride was jarring, with them getting thrown against each other more times than she could count. Damian apologised the first few times, but they soon died on his tongue. She found it amusing, knowing he had little experience or appreciation for public transport, having gotten into a fight the last time he stepped on the tube. That had been a tabloid she’d pinned to her wall proudly until he had ripped it down.
When they finally got to their stop, she awkwardly hobbled past the seats, grumbling each time her crutch caught against their metal bottoms. Damian placed a steadying hand on her lower back, but she could tell the urge to push her was strong.
Once on the footpath, she adjusted her disguise as the bus left, looking around her slowly. It was a well populated part of town, filled with lots of cute little shops, that stayed open until late in the night. With all the shoppers milling around, the two agents blended in rather will. Damian kept his hand on her back, rubbing small circles with his thumb as he read the shopping directory.
“Store front should be next street over, three shops down.” He murmured, pointing it out on the map to her.
“Should be easy then.” She nodded, and they set off for their destination. Anya hadn’t done a lot of physical fitness since being released from the hospital, and it showed as she puffed away during their walk. Damian sent her a concerned look out of the corner of his eye, but wisely didn’t comment this time, having already nagged her about this enough. By the time they reached the cobbler, a thin veil of sweat beaded her brow. She wiped at it in annoyance, as Damian stepped up to the door, peering inside.
“It’s closed.” He stated, squinting against his reflection. “No one seems to be inside.”
“Probably hidden in the back. Door locked?”
A jiggle of the door handle sounded.
“Yup.”
“Awesome.” Anya grinned, moving forward. “My turn.”
Yuri probably regretted teaching her how to pick locks when she was a kid, but she thanked him every day for it. As the door clinked open easily after her meddling now, she prayed to him thanks yet again. Between Damian’s sticky fingers and her nimble ones, missions like these were a breeze.
It was a wonder how it had all gone so wrong to begin with.
Inside the dark shop was organised clutter, with piles of shoe boxes and samples littering the floor. She had never seen so many variations of coloured leather before, but Damian pulled her away before she could pick them up, ushering her towards the back. It got too narrow for her to use her crutch around the counter, so she leaned it against one of the displays and clutched at Damian’s jacket as he walked before her.
Their moves were well practised, something they had established since childhood. So when she heard the faint thoughts drifting from the back, Damian halted immediately when she tugged on his clothes.
“We were right. Out the back.” She breathed, and he turned towards the beaded entrance, shuffling along the wall until they were in a position to listen.
“...a fine haul. Look at that craftmanship.”
“Mmmm, speckled a bit around the edges though. May loose some value.”
“Nah, we can play if off as a rare mistake. People go nuts for ‘originality’.”
There were a few laughs, and Anya counted their differences mentality. At least three people were tucked away back there, maybe some further in the building. Leaning against Damian’s broad back, she lifted a hand to show him her guess, and he nodded slightly in return.
“This vase has ash on it.” Someone grunted, unwrapping the paper slowly. “Must have been from the fire.”
“Get it cleaned. If the soot stains, then we’ll have to work around it, lost too much from that raid.”
“I think I saw one of the helpers shove something in his socks. But I didn’t find anything when I checked his charred body later.”
Anya smiled against Damian’s shoulder, feeling his amusement rippling off him in waves.
“Probably the best bits too. I can’t find any of the rings or bracelets anywhere. It’s all the pottery that we had moved already that survived.” Someone grumbled, moving around the room. “And the rest of it cracked in the heat. Why did those bastards have to steal the pretty stuff?”
“It’s probably tucked away in their headquarters. We could organise a raid on them to get it back.”
“On who exactly though? The SSS? The Police? Who was it that attacked us?”
“Do you think they knew?”
“No. We’ve kept our tracks pretty clear. At least we have that warehouse of other cargo.”
There was silence in the room, only broken by the gentle rustling of paper and packaging.
“When are we moving everything again? There’s too much blood on this expedition for me. We need to toss it soon.”
“End of the week. Buyer wants to meet at the wharf again, but I’m trying to convince them to meet at the train instead. The wharf is crawling with those agents.”
“Yeah, I’m sure I saw the SSS snooping about when I went back the other day. Definitely get it changed.”
Anya tried to gain more intel from their thoughts, but only got glimpses from the night of the explosion. It seemed the smugglers hadn’t set that trap after all. Something had seriously gone wrong then as they escaped. Maybe a stray bullet had hit a gas canister? There had been a few lying about the warehouse.
They stayed there for a while, listening in on the dull conversation. The smugglers didn’t reveal much more, just whined over their spoilt wares, trying to clean the left-over carnage off them. Eventually Anya’s head grew heavy against Damian, and he turned away from the door to hold her.
Come on, let's get you home.
She obliged, too tired to fight. Nose bleeds weren’t as common for her these days, but she could feel one brewing now. Wiping at her nose, she followed Damian out of the store, collecting her crutch along the way. Unfortunately it was hooked against some shoes she hadn’t noticed, and when she pulled it sent them crashing to the ground. The pair froze, staring at the mess and each other, as the voices out the back stopped.
“What was that?”
Anya quickly stepped over the fallen shoes, waving at Damian to move. He caught her hand and tugged her towards the door, pushing it open roughly. They managed to exit the store just as the beads clashed together violently, escaping down the street to blend in with the last of the late-night shoppers. Heart pumping, Anya clutched her hat to her head, straining to hear the thoughts of their pursuers. She relaxed when they thought about a rat, and she wasn’t sure if they meant the animal or a snitch. Either way, they were safe for now.
“Well, that was close.” She chirped, pulling on Damian to slow down.
“Would have been better if you were more careful idiot.” He snapped back, but he slowed his walk to let her catch up.
“It was dark and so crowded! I didn’t realise.” She argued, glaring up at him. His eyes did that familiar glower, filled with a fire she wanted to drown in. She was reminded yet again that there was a conversation they needed to have, but neither of them wanted to broach it yet.
“How are we going to stop the trade off?” She asked instead, forcing herself to turn away.
“Drop hints at work or to your father? Get some back up to be there with us?” He sighed, as they continued down the street. It was late now, there would be no buses running. The subway was closed for the night as well, so they’d have to catch a taxi back home. A fee they’d usually charge to WISE, but tonight Damian’s pockets would hurt.
“But then they’ll throw us to the wolf. I don’t want to risk that.” She shivered, noticing how it rolled over him as well.
“Then we’ll just have to be sneaky, and infiltrate beforehand. You can use your crutch to whack them over the head or something.”
“And you can tie them up with those knots you keep practicing like the good Scout you are.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it.” He leered, and she smirked in response.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
There was a pause as both realised the implications behind her words, a blush warming her chest and neck as one settled across his cheeks. They hurriedly looked away from each other, focusing on trying to get to the taxi stand. It was a long while before either of them spoke, and Anya was too busy trying not to listen to Damian’s thoughts, which were running rampant with ideas she would happily partake in if they weren’t so awkward. They really needed to have that conversation.
He hailed a taxi after a while, and helped her into the car. Instead of climbing in after her though, he leaned against the door and gave her a long look.
“Can we talk about it?”
“Tonight?”
“No, probably not right now. But soon.” He sighed, looking away briefly.
“Okay. Call me tomorrow and we can discuss it.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, shoving a handful of bills into her hands.
“Get home safe Anya.”
“You too.” She whispered, as he closed the door and stepped back onto the curve, waving her goodbye. After directing the driver on where to go, she watched as Damian’s figure grew smaller in the distance, still waving slowly as she drove away. When he was out of sight, she turned to face the front, a feeling of forbidding settling across her shoulders. Somehow, she knew they’d never have that conversation.