Work Text:
Working at Berlint General Hospital had several perks for a spy - access to private records, (depending on your job) a lower profile, and (at least the highest bonus in Nightfall’s case) working with Agent Twilight.
Loid Forger, she reminded herself. Within these walls, it was best to refer to him by his cover name. After what could have been a close call - that could have turned disastrous if Twilight hadn’t always been five steps ahead of everyone - of late her senior agent had insisted that she always use his title and name rather than his codename. It was a little annoying since she always thought that Twilight suited him much better, but she wouldn’t argue with him. Supporting the maintenance of his cover was her responsibility after all.
Even if she would rather be supporting him on the homefront as well as at the hospital… but replacing Yor Briar was something that she would need patience for. Her opportunity would come someday…
“Good morning, Miss Frost,” Twi-Dr. Forger’s voice broke through her internal musing, clearing the thought of the woman who stole her role from her mind for the time being. Her purple irises met her former instructor and noticed that he looked a little brighter today. His smile looked a little more than just his usual professionalism. Today he wore that blue sweater that she thought made him look a little too soft, a little too in character. But she couldn’t fault him for wearing it. It did complement his eyes.
“Good morning, Doctor. Did you have a nice weekend?” She asked, keeping her expression stoney as usual, though her lips mouthed a different message. “Intel for your next mission is on your desk.”
“It was nice. Just another family weekend, though I could have done without the extra paperwork.” His voice said, but her eyes were focused squarely on his lips. “Very well. I have another report for the last mission for Handler.”
Nightfall nodded. “Will yo-”
“Dr. Forger! Fi- ahem-Miss Frost!” A voice interrupted her as a figure walked down the hallway. Both undercover spies turned to look, the taller of the two smiling at the newcomer while the other didn’t look impressed. Director Gorey approached them, a warm smile on his own face. “Good morning!”
“Good morning, Director,” Twilight greeted with similar warmth. Fiona simply nodded, holding her notebook a bit tighter than needed. “You are pretty chipper this morning. Did you have a good weekend?”
“I did, I did!” The older man was holding a file in one hand while gesturing animatedly as he spoke with Twilight, giving a light rundown of his ongoings. Nightfall barely paid attention as she tried to tamp down on the annoyance at being interrupted - intentionally or not. "Oh! And here's that file we discussed last week," Gorey finally stated, getting to the point of his visit. A slim, manilla folder held out in his hands. "I do appreciate you taking some of the strain off of my workload."
"Anything to help you, Director," the spy said politely, taking the folder as if it was more precious than gold. Which it most likely was considering the possible intel that could be gleaned from the records.
"Good man," Gorey smiled, patting Twilight's arm and moving to go when he froze slightly and blinked at Dr. Forger. He seemed to be considering something else, but his eyes kept flicking toward Nightfall for some unknown reason. "I don't mean to keep you, Dr. Forger, but I do have a question that I'd like to discuss with you in your office. Do you have a moment?"
Twilight blinked at that - the only sign that he hadn't expected this, though it could be an act as he was very good at anticipating behavior. "Not at all!" The mild-mannered Loid Forger replied, turning to nod at Nightfall. "If you could please inform me when my first patient arrives, Ms. Frost?" "No interference. If something comes up, I'll come to you."
"Of course, Doctor." Nightfall replied with a nod of her head.
As the two men turned to go, she kept her eye on Twilight for a few more precious seconds. He would have a packed day that day, and it was possible she wouldn't see much of him. So any…
Wait.
As he walked past, a small flash of color caught her attention. It was out of place, conspicuous, half hidden by Twilight’s white collar and the lightly tanned skin of his neck. A purpling semicircle from what she could see, her eyes tracking him.
Twilight either didn't notice her gaze (doubtful), was unaware it was there (also doubtful) or didn't find it useful to inform her at this time about it (probable, considering the annoying civilian urgently taking him from her side). He remained perfectly in character as the two men wandered further down the hall, continuing with some small talk with the director until the balding man thought they were out of her hearing range.
Of course, he (and perhaps Twilight too if she had been subtle enough) didn't know of the listening devices she had placed near Dr. Forger's office - for professional purposes of course. Any intel she could gather on their coworkers and passing (read: non-confidential patient information) conversation was worth keeping.
Sitting once again at her desk, she leaned her head on a propped hand and began writing detailed notes, all the while pressing on the discreet listening receiver in her ear.
"...mean to be nosy, but it is right there." Gorey was saying and Nightfall's eyes narrowed slightly at the partial comment, already missing critical details. She would need to have words with Franklin on the range and precision of his devices.
"Oh!" Twilight replied in his mild-mannered Forger voice. "I'm fine. Just a little… well…" he trailed off for a moment as if considering something. It probably wasn't long enough of a pause for Gorey to pick up on, but Nightfall could. "I was roughhousing with my daughter this weekend and must have bumped into something."
There was something off with that lie. Twilight could lie better than most agents in WISE and yet here he was botching it terribly. But why? Why did he feel the need to lie about something so minor? She hadn't noticed any major injuries, just that bruise… had Gorey noticed it too?
"You have a daughter?" The director asked stupidly, causing Nightfall to roll her eyes.
"Oh yes!" Twi- Loid Forger gushed in a way that made Nightfall’s hand throttle her pen. There was some minor shuffling before he spoke again. “She’s six and can be a handful.”
“What a beautiful family!” Gorey replied, though there was something in his voice that the spy listening in couldn’t quite pin down. “Your wife is lovely. Very lucky man you are, Dr. Forger.”
“I don’t know where I’d be without them,” Twilight replied, and it doesn’t sound like a lie, even though it should. “Was there anything else?”
“No, not at all. Though…” Gorey’s voice dropped in volume and Nightfall could barely pick up the next words. “...don’t…lie…having a…from your wife… won’t tell a soul.”
Nightfall’s blood ran cold as Twilight sputtered on the other end. He never sputtered. Twilight was the picture-perfect spy, always composed, uncompromising, and four steps ahead of the other guy. But, for some reason, this singular comment threw him off.
He had to be acting. There was no other explanation. All of Twilight’s reports stated very clearly that Yor Briar and Loid Forger were in a perfectly platonic and co-parenting relationship. They slept in different rooms. They only touched when necessary, and even then it was sparse and for show. Both of them knew this arrangement was a farce, so Why on EARTH was-
“...I would appreciate your discretion, Director,” Loid Forger replied, his voice coated with a slight edge. “While my marriage is a happy one, I don’t want our intimate lives on full display for others.”
The pen in Nightfall’s grasp snapped clean in half, ink splattering across the dossier in her possession. She would need to start over.
“Of course,” the director answered just as the spy stood, discreetly destroyed the bug, and went to wash her hands of the water-soluble ink.
Twilight had done more than his fair share of honeypot trap missions, and if Yor Briar needed to be among that number… for the sake of Strix, so be it.
That didn’t stop the ache from forming in her chest.
One day…
*****
He honestly wasn't sure how much he trusted the Director's words. As a spy, caution was everything and this was something that (even though minor) the man could hold over Twilight's head. He'd already attempted to call the SSS on him once before after all.
Though… as long as he believed the bruise was from his wife and not something more nefarious (or an affair), maybe, just maybe Twilight could let this slip-up slide.
You need to get a grip and stop being so sloppy. What if Anya or Yor saw the mark and not just Gorey? The spy admonished himself as he made his way to his desk and opened a compartment. Within was one of his many disguise kits. While Gorey had already seen the mark - a horrible purpling of his neck, now that Twilight got a good look at it. For how ugly it was, it was certainly less serious than the other marks on his chest.
The last side mission had not been kind. Lack of intelligence plus a tight turntable had led to more trouble than it was worth. Unlike a previous mission where Bond had incidentally shown up, the hound had not made an appearance and he hadn't brought him along - a mistake he probably shouldn't repeat though he wasn't sure how he could justify that to Yor or Handler.
But if WISE insisted on sending him on completely blind missions, he may not give them a choice.
With a grunt of frustration, he pulled open the kit and began to apply the flesh-toned waxy substance over the superficial injury. Hopefully, by the end of the week, it would be gone… but until then, he would need to ensure it remained covered. Especially at home.
Once satisfied that no purple was visible and the color tone matched perfectly, Twilight put away his kit and pulled on his lab coat.
It was time to be Dr. Forger and worry about his patients.
*****
The warm sounds and smells of the Forger apartment brought with it a sense of peace. A place where each of the members could let their guards down, even just fractionally, and just be for a little while. Even if it was all just an act, at least on the adults’ part, the past few months had chipped away at the rationality. It hadn’t destroyed the wall, by any means, but there were definitely pigeonholes in it that hadn’t been there at the start.
Twilight had come home to find Yor already preparing her mother’s stew, a warm happy blessing that he welcomed with a bright smile, even if it did dim slightly a few seconds later.
While his (fake) wife did appear somewhat cheerful, she was dressed in the outfit she usually reserved for when she was feeling under the weather - a blue and white oversized turtleneck dress and loose-fitting pants. There was tightness in her face and he wondered momentarily if she had reinjured her wrists.
“Are you alright, Yor?” He asked softly, his blue eyes crinkling slightly as she stiffened.
“Yeah! Well… maybe just a touch tired. Work was long today.” She replied, her voice steady, but she didn’t look at him as she mixed the stew, vegetables bobbing gently in the red broth. “Why do you ask?”
Twilight practically bit his tongue to keep himself from simply blurting out that she was wearing her “sickness shirt.” That wouldn’t do. She would probably think he was being creepy for assigning a name - true or not - to an article of her clothing. But she had given him an opening, by mentioning her exhaustion… so it may be best to run with that. “I guess you just look more tired than usual today. It would make sense if they are working you harder than usual,” He explained, leaning against the countertop and crossing his arms. His blue eyes followed the lines of her shoulders and he could see some tension there. “They haven’t been denying your breaks, right?”
She turned her head and gave him a smile, one that seemed truer than the last one. “No, I’ve been able to take all my breaks. It has more to do with the amount of paperwork than anything. This time of year is always busy, right before the snowfall.” She answered, and it sounded truthful.
“Ah,” He nodded in understanding. “Then please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you relax at home.”
Her cheeks tinted a soft pink.
But before she could say anything further, the front door opened and shut with a click.
“ChiChi! HaHa! Anya and Bond are home!” The little girl called as the final two members of the Forger family entered the hallway.
“Welcome home, Anya-san!” Yor greeted, turning from the stove. “Just in time! Dinner’s ready so if you want to get washed up, we can talk about your day once we are seated!”
Anya’s green eyes grew impossibly wide with a large grin at the sight of both of her parents in the kitchen. “Everyone’s home for dinner!” She cheered. “Come on, Bond, let’s get ready for dinner!”
After a small water mishap in the bathroom and a drying towel for Bond, the Forgers made their way to the dinner table and sat down as Yor distributed the delicious-smelling soup. Not for the first time was Loid happy that she had learned this recipe, especially since it got Anya to eat some more vegetables. As they ate in amicable conversation, bowl after bowl was consumed until each had their fill.
While in the middle of her second dish, Anya looked him square in the eye. It was a look he knew well, and he internally sighed. She had a big question for him. “Yes, Anya?” He asked, lowering his spoon for the time being.
“ChiChi…What’s a hickey?”
The undercover spy nearly choked on his spit, but Yor - who had taken a spoonful of soup - did choke on the dinner, much to his alarm. She waved him off, though, assuring him and Anya that she was alright through gestures before she regained her voice. It was only after the cough was gone that Loid turned to Anya and answered her question with one of his own.
“Anya, where did you hear that word?”
"From Becky," she answered easily, stirring her stew. "She said it was something on her favorite show."
That Blackbell girl was rivaling his own (fake) daughter for a number of induced migraines. Sometimes he wondered if he should discuss these things with her parents, or at the very least bring them up to Martha. He could call it a professional concern since it probably wasn't wise for a child her age to be so invested in a soap opera…
But that was a concern for another time.
Especially with Anya's bright green eyes boring metaphorical holes into him.
With a sigh that seemed to be escaping him more times than not in this mess called Strix, Twilight considered just how to answer this question for her. Maybe she would be satisfied in knowing the what and he could remove the general context from the situation where one could happen. It wouldn’t be a lie. It would just be a slight sanitation of the facts for her young mind to understand. But if Blackbell had already given some context…
Since when have you ever been worried about lying, Twilight? He scolded himself before answering in a calm and serious tone. “A hickey is a nickname for a bruise on someone’s neck that’s given to them by a romantic partner.”
Anya’s expression soured slightly. “Oh… so it’s not something cool. Becky made it sound like it was. Never mind.” She sighed before returning to her soup.
Relief washed over the spy and he had to stop himself from rubbing a hand on his neck. He couldn’t risk the wax moving. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yor relax too.
After a moment of quiet, conversation resumed, drawing thoughts away from bruises and romance.