Work Text:
Tick. Tock.
Twilight let out a sigh of relief as he craned his neck to the side in a slow movement, making his joints pop from the stretch. The clock in his office kept ticking tauntingly, grating at his nerves with the constant reminder of the pile of paperwork he had to get rid of before he’d even be able to imagine stepping out of his office. He had a growing suspicion that his superiors – the ones from his cover job, at least – had it out for him.
It was not the first time he had to find himself staying idle – at least compared to the usual urgent nature of his tasks, as the amount of work his cover required remained truly headache-inducing – for expanded spans of time, in confined spaces. They were also, by far, his least favorite kind of mission. There was a chill-inducing anticipation coursing through his bones at the constant stillness of his immediate surroundings, his entire body remaining on edge while he had to pretend he wasn’t constantly keeping an eye on the door and windows or watching for suspicious shadows in the corners of the room.
If he had to be entirely honest, he’d also admit that said paperwork was terribly boring to begin with, and any excuse to discard it and bolt out of the cramped, poorly-lit room that he was supposed to call an office would always be quite welcome. Next time, maybe he’d ask Handler to find him a job that would allow him to be a little more proactive, instead of having to spend the day with the smell of old moist carpet as his sole company.
Tick. Tock.
The days he was often forced to spend at the hospital for the sake of his cover, while not nearly as fatally dangerous as many of his previous missions had been, never failed to cause a hard-wired tension to curl in the crevices of his shoulders and neck, most often to the point they started to ache relentlessly by the end of the day. He was lucky enough not to receive any actual patients – only WISE agents, who often came to deliver or receive reports on adjacent missions the Handler wished him to stay informed on.
Despite the stomach ache he knew it would inevitably cause, he craved desperately for a strong cup of coffee – if only so the heat of the beverage could ease the strain in his muscles and clear the stubborn, exhaustion-induced buzz in his head.
Today, while not intense in nature or in tasks to accomplish, had been particularly demanding – the hospital had been bustling with noisy patients or rude visitors that demanded directions or assistance to the closest member of staff they could find, and the constant echoes of screams and cries that had rang through the entire day had made memories of an erased past dance painfully behind his eyelids. Worse again, he’d had to avoid the nurses and doctors that had trailed after him the entire day in the futile hope to spark a conversation or invite him for lunch – people seemed to either hate or love him to death, with little to no in-between. Some of them seemed particularly oblivious to the fact that he was a happily married man, no matter the amount of times he had found himself having to repeat it.
Tick. Tock.
The weather might also have had something to do with the general discontentment that had floated around the entire day – a thunderstorm, heavy and menacing, had growled and yowled for a good part of the afternoon, hurling gusts of wind against the walls of the hospital and making windows rattle violently. Thunderstorms were rare, in December, but the day had been exceptionally warm – and so, rather than snow, it had been rain, cold and bone-soaking and never-ending, that had batted against the doors for hours to the rhythm of flashes and rumbles, soaking the entrance with muddied puddles that had caused more than one distracted passerby to slip and fall. The swirl of dark, agitated clouds had made Twilight’s chest ache with a distant nostalgia he hadn’t quite able to explain.
Tick. Tock.
As strange and ironic as it could be – even to him, who should really have been expecting this by now – the only true breath he had been able to catch had happened upon lunch time, when he’d almost choked to death on a surprisingly sturdy fish bone. His relentless coughs had attracted more than a few concerned glances at the cafeteria, and he’d glanced in pure astonishment at the lunch Yor and Anya had made for him – which had been supposed to be some kind of meat stew and white rice, toppled with a heart drawn with ketchup and unpeeled peanuts that he now recognized as Anya’s signature to about every meal she assisted in.
The meat itself was unrecognizable, chopped into such thin slices that it had become see-through, and the rice was somehow uncooked on one side and entirely burnt on the other; there was obviously also the question of how a fish bone had even ended up in there, but Loid was still immensely pleased to see just how much Yor had progressed with her cooking. From an objective point of view, the meal was overall far from perfect, but it was edible and, more importantly even, as nutritious as ever – as it was, he’d never found himself going hungry during the afternoon when she offered to prepare a lunchbox for him to take to work. Iit was on those days that he was reminded just how grateful he felt towards her, and how lucky he was to have met her back in that tailor shop, that very day.
Tick. Tock.
The impromptu flickering of a neon above his head brought Twilight back to reality, and he gently tucked the memory into a corner of his mind while making the mental note to show his gratitude to Yor and Anya for the meal.
He had paperwork to finish if he wanted to go home soon enough, after all.
The rain had finally subsided by the time he was finally able to clock out from work and leave his office – the sky, when he raised his gaze to the vast expense of it, was a sea of dark cobalt, bordering on lighter hues near the horizon. He could see to his right the retreating mass of thunderous clouds that had tormented the hospital only a few hours prior, and let out a deep exhale just as a distant rumble reached his ears.
It seemed like the storm had passed, for now. The air felt lighter; his head did as well, as the buzz faded away with the breeze.
He’d finished work later than he’d hoped, he noticed as he checked the faintly cracked glass of his watch, result of a rather rough mission – but if he managed to return home fast enough, he’d be there just in time to help for dinner and ensure Anya wasn’t struggling with her homework too much. He could almost picture the way they would be waiting for him like always – Anya, watching the latest episode of her favorite cartoon with Bond laying down lazily by her side as she rested her head on the wide expanse of white fur, while Yor read on with a fond smile a fantasy novel she’d started some time ago.
The drive back to home was uneventful, like often – the streets were deserted already, if not for the last merchants closing their shops for the day, or for the flutter of early inebriated passersby that stumbled out of bars and restaurants. The low tune ringing from the radio didn’t help with his growing drowsiness either – it was a slow, repetitive rhythm that only served to remind him of the exhaustion that was pulling at his limbs and very core, and he knew without fail that his body would probably crash as soon as he would be able to lay into his bed.
He finally parked near their building, noting distantly that something in the atmosphere surrounding their home seemed amiss. There was no logical or reasonable explanation as to why it did.
It just did.
Out of precaution, and despite his growing exhaustion – because he’d learnt the hard way that a single second of inattention could bring forth irredeemable consequences – Twilight toured the neighborhood, scanning each shadowed corner and listening for a possible stalker, watching for unfamiliar faces in the street and on the roofs – but nothing was out of the ordinary, not even a stray cat or vehicle that seemed out of place, not even a suspicious individual strolling around, and so Twilight soon found himself walking back to his building with a urge in his step.
But as he neared the door, his hand already raising to grasp its handle, his mind finally, finally deciphered the oddity that had stuck his unconscious ever since the bricks of his building had appeared within view, and he almost cursed himself for realizing the problem so late.
All lights, without exception, were turned off despite the late hour.
More worryingly, there was not a single sound that could be heard from within.
Twilight froze immediately, attempting in vain to not immediately imagine a terrible vision as he held his breath.
There was probably a simple explanation for this, wasn’t there?
And yet, the truth was as such: it simply didn’t make sense. While the apartment was always much quieter once Anya was gone to bed, there would still always be the muted chatter of their television, or the heavy thuds of Bond’s wagging tail as he sat behind the door, anticipating Loid’s arrival the way only animals seemed to be able to.
An intense wave of unease rolled in his stomach. Twilight unlocked the door as slowly and silently as it would let him, and pushed it open with slow precaution. His other hand let go of his bag to recover the gun concealed under the folds of his vest, and his mind prepared itself for the worst as he went to step inside the darkness of their apartment.
He’d spent enough time dancing around the shadows of death to recognize their whisper, and absolute silence in his household was not the kind of quiet he could bring himself to trust.
What if his cover had been compromised? What if one of his many enemies had discovered what they considered it to be his hideout?
What if something had happened to them-
Then he heard it.
A blow of breath that sounded like a familiar, muffled giggle, the soft ruffle of clothes, and the quiet skip of claws against wood.
He’d never holstered a gun faster in his life – and years of intensive training were the only reason he was saved from a terribly awkward situation as Anya and Yor both bolted out from behind the counter, shortly followed by Bond’s massive body.
“Happy birthday!”
He stared at them, the outline of their silhouette the only thing he could yet distinguish within the darkened room, and remained utterly gobsmacked as Yor turned the lights back on. The abrupt flood of light caused his eyes to flutter close – and when he opened them again, it was to discover a renewed living room. Garlands and balloons of all colors were hung all around the room, and the table was now generously covered with confetti and handmade paper wreaths swirling in rainbow-hued gradients.
It made no sense.
How could it?
“Ah,” Twilight still managed to let out, despite having to produce the conscious effort of making his mouth move. His limbs felt almost mechanical as he shifted on his feet, and his mouth was terribly dry when he tried to swallow down. He realized, albeit belatedly, that his distressed heart was pounding wildly against his ribcage – his body was still in fight of flight mode, it appeared, and he had to force himself to unclench his jaw just enough to speak up without letting the panic transpire in his tone too much. “My birthday?”
Anya’s nose scrunched up into a frown, as she often did when she was upset with him.
“Did you forget, Papa?” she asked him with a near childish scold in her tone, eyes wide and almost unbelieving.
He didn’t answer immediately, and her gaze gained that strange edge he’d already witnessed several times (was his heart really beating so hard that she could hear it too?) before she spoke again, in the mimic of someone explaining something obvious with the utmost patience – not unlike the tone he often adopted when he tried helping her with homework.
“It’s your birthday today.”
Twilight watched her, speechless for longer his training should have allowed him to be – he swiped the apartment with his gaze exactly once, to ensure the part of himself that was still irrationally panicking that no threat currently resided in their home. He then took a deep, shivering breath, and melted back into the persona of Loid Forger.
Loid Forger was born in December, he repeated to himself, like a mantra. Today is Loid Forger’s birthday.
It was fine.
He was fine.
He chased from his mind with a deep exhale the anguished ghosts of prone bodies and blood-tainted skin – those were not Loid Forger’s memories, and Loid Forger’s heart had no valid reason to flutter painfully at the mere sight of a dark apartment – and made his mouth curl into a smile, tentative but genuine.
“You’re right,” he chuckled, inwardly pleased at the now natural flow of his tone. “I completely forgot that it was today. This looks great – did you two do all of this yourselves?”
Yor gave a small chuckle and an easy nod.
“We spent a few days planning this and making the decorations. Anya was very talented at it,” she explained with audible pride before she stepped towards Loid, unburdening him of his hat and absent-mindedly arranging a stray curl of platinum hair near his temples. The contact was so short that it had fled away before Loid could even process its nature, and he found his brain short-circuiting for the second time in a matter of minutes.
Apparently oblivious to the consequences of her instinctive actions, she moved past him to hang his hat on the coat rack near the door, left ajar in the wake of his spiraling confusion, and retrieved the bag forgotten at the threshold of their home.
He was distracted from his own, strange swirl of thoughts by Anya tugging insistently at the fabric of his pants and Bond nudging his leg with his snout – without even the hint of thought and out of pure habit, he crouched to pick her up and settle her against his chest, and ruffled the dog’s white fur . The gestures were familiar, and he refused to ponder on the nature of it, instead relishing on the small warmth of his daughter against him, solid and very much safe, and the repetitive wagging of Bond’s tail.
Both dog and child seemed immensely pleased at the action, and rewarded him respectively with a low borf and a wide, bright smile, before the latter offered him a folded piece of paper he hadn’t even realized she was holding.
“It’s your gift,” she explained simply, as he opened it with his remaining hand to unravel an explosion of color.
Art had never been Anya’s strongest forte, but he’d learnt, with time and prolonged exposure to her cryptic talents, to decipher the meaning of her works. The drawing itself might have been crude, but something in his chest clenched at the sight of four silhouettes – their small mismatched family, represented as minimalistic stick figures, almost unrecognizable if not for the tell-tale patch of respectively dark, pink and blonde hair stuck on three of them and the round, white-spiked form of the last character. Loid’s representation stood at the center of the drawing, holding Yor’s and Anya’s hands, while the lines drawing Bond’s figure crossed with the ones of his legs in a daring attempt as perspective, showing the gentle dog posing in front of his three humans. The four of them were drawn inside a shakily drawn heart, adorned with stars, Bondman-themed stickers and chaotically coloured clouds, while the top of the paper presented the words “Hapy Birday, Papa!”
He realized he hadn’t said a word when Anya’s voice piped up again, this time gaining an unfamiliarly shy edge. “Do you like it?”
“I love it,” he answered immediately and truthfully. And then, because he supposed he could at least praise and thank the young girl for her efforts, he added, “It’s very pretty. You did well.”
“Papa’s a liar,” Anya giggled, seeming nonetheless quite satisfied with the praise, and let her head rest against his chest to hide her reddening cheeks.
“Happy birthday, Loid,” Yor murmured once more when she approached them again, and the warmth of her returned at once as she raised her hand to pet Anya’s hair in a tender motion.
“Thank you, both of you,” he murmured back, breathing in the sugary scent of Anya’s apple-scented shampoo and the delicate floral notes of Yor’s perfume, just as he felt the last of the remaining tension leaving his shoulders for good.
“I have something for you, too,” the dark-haired woman offered with a smile, reaching to the kitchen counter for a small box, wrapped in coloured, glittery paper and neatly tied ribbons. “I hope it’ll be to your taste.”
The first gift, a rather small square box, contained a new watch – similar to the one he’d enjoyed wearing for so long, sleek and adorned with elegant golden accents, and that looked at least as comfortable as the one sitting on his wrist, if not more. Per protocol, he’d have to disassemble it to check for bugs or other similar traps, and the thought of having to do so was suddenly unfamiliarly repulsive – Yor had noticed the small crack in the glass of his current watch without him ever mentioning it (but then again, he should have known; she was exceptionally perceptive, even when it came to the smallest details), then she had gone out of her way to find a replacement she knew he would appreciate, and he was now supposed to thank her by showing yet another undeserved act of doubt towards her.
Now was not the time for such thoughts, though, so Loid pushed those aside, and let himself genuinely appreciate the new accessory, feeling the corners of his mouth curl into a smile as he replaced his damaged watch with the new one. It fitted perfectly, as expected of Yor’s thoughtfulness.
“It fits perfectly,” he declared gratefully, showing them how well the band of leather and metal encircled his wrist. “And the design is my style, too. Thank you for everything, both of you.”
Yor blushed, but returned his smile to the tenfold. “I’m so glad you liked it. I saw you were still wearing your damaged watch, so I figured you were attached to it.” She paused for a moment, thoughtful. “I hesitated a lot, not knowing if I should keep the surprise or instead offer to repair your current one.”
She must have thought it had been a gift from his first wife, he realized with a small yet sharp pang of guilt, and immediately reassured her that he had simply not taken the time to have it repaired or replaced, and that he liked the one she had picked for him much better.
He’d bought the watch himself, along with many other civilian clothes and accessories, with the goal to build the perfect image of an exemplary gentleman; but he had never held any sort of attachment towards it.
This one, though, he would treasure.
At his words, Yor’s smile became utterly radiant; simultaneously and for a reason that he could not figure out, Anya started snickering and mumbling something unintelligible under her breath.
“So, for tonight – well, I thought about baking you a cake, but – ” Yor stammered as she tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, face going red with embarrassment as she started talking faster and faster, “ – but I’m terrible at baking and I don’t want you getting sick on your birthday, so I thought maybe we could stroll outside and eat at this nice restaurant I know? I used to do this for my brother’s birthday once I started earning money, but of course if don’t like it we can-”
“Yor,” he called out gently in the middle of her nervous rambling, if only so he’d be able to speak before choking on his own voice became inevitable, as such was the growing lump at the back of his throat. “That’d be perfect. Shall we go now, then?”
Yor breathed out in relief, and nodded. “I’ll just need a minute to get changed, if that’s alright.”
Loid smiled. “Take your time.”
He went to help Anya with her shoes meanwhile – which was never an easy task, as the ever-energetic child greatly enjoyed swinging her legs with fits of giggles while he pointlessly tried to make her keep still.
“Did you cut out those paper wreaths yourself?” he asked in a desperate attempt at distraction, remembering what Yor had told him upon his arrival.
Anya beamed at him, and stopped fidgeting – victory. “Yeah! You like ‘em?”
He nodded, feeling a smile once again pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I do. They’re impressive.”
“Becky showed me! We can make ‘em for Mama’s birday too.”
“That’s a very good idea. You’ll have to show me how to make them.”
The prospect seemed to excite Anya dearly, and she nodded fast enough to almost fall off the chair she’d been sitting on.
“What is a good idea?” Yor asked as she came back into the living room, smiling at the sight of Loid buttoning the buttons of Anya’s tiny raincoat.
“The paper guarantees,” the small girl chirped helpfully.
Yor blinked, and he snorted before he could help it, only barely managing to turn his head aside to hide it.
“I think she meant garlands,” he explained.
“Paper garrands!”
“Close enough.”
The streets were rather quiet and deserted, at this hour, even more so than when he’d been driving home – they only crossed a few passersby as they moved at a languid pace towards the heart of town, where Yor had suggested a family-owned restaurant that she knew would accept Bond’s gentle but massive presence. It was after all a family meal, she’d said, patting the giant’s soft head, and it was only fair to include him as well.
Said dog was sniffing the air curiously, tail wagging in contentment at being able to partake in the familial activity as he walked to Loid’s calm rhythm. Had it not been for etiquette or the risk of suddenly encountering a cat bolting across the street, he knew he wouldn’t even have the need for a leash to make the dog follow him.
Anya was walking between Yor and him, holding their hands and humming a distorted mixture of many songs they’d been hearing on the radio lately.
“I’m so hungry, I want to eat everything in the retaurant!” she suddenly exclaimed, startling both him and Yor.
“We won’t be able to carry you anymore, if you eat too much, or you’ll grow up too fast” Loid couldn’t help but play along and tease, biting back a chuckle at the immediate despair crossing Anya’s face. “Actually, you might have eaten peanuts too much already. You’re so tall already.”
He punctuated his words by raising the hand the small girl was holding, and feigning his inability to raise her off the ground. “See? You’re too tall for me to carry now.”
Yor faked a gasp. “Oh, no! Should we try to carry her together?”
“Yes!” Anya giggled. “Raise me up! Raise me up!”
She squealed in delight, her tiny fists clenched around his and Yor’s hands, as they raised her off the ground effortlessly, before proceeding to make her swing gently back and forth between them. As always, Yor didn’t fail to surprise him with her nearly inhumane strength, and he quickly had to adjust his own grip on their child so they wouldn’t accidentally send her flying a bit too far.
The young girl was breathless yet exhilarated by the time they reached the small restaurant Yor had been talking about.
The interior was cramped but homely and inviting, which made it a hard task for Loid not to let down his guard immediately, despite the dangerously crowded disposition of the room and the lack of windows or exits. A woman, tall and strong and whose sculpted arms seemed able to bend metal if the need were to arise, was standing behind the counter – as she took notice of them, her expression brightened significantly, and she immediately came to them so she could engulf Yor in a hug, chiding her gently for not visiting them in so long. She then cooed at Anya’s rosy cheeks, and called out for her husband – the man that came out of the kitchen couldn’t have been taller than Franky, tiny and frail-looking as he was, but that did not stop him from laughing heartily and patting Yor’s back in welcome, even as she murmured to him something that the ambient noise swallowed before he was able to catch it.
“I’m Sophia,” the owner kindly told Loid, glancing at him with an appraising curiosity that did not escape him.
“I’m Loid, and this is Anya” he offered back politely, nodding, and Sophia’s expression softened into approval. “Thank you for receiving us tonight.”
The young girl waved her hands. “Hi! I’m Anya!”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Anya and Loid. Let me guide you to your table, okay?”
She guided them to a table in an isolated corner of the room, far from the noisier and rowdier customers, which Twilight greatly appreciated – it would make their meal much more enjoyable, but it would most especially allow him to keep an eye on their surroundings more easily.
“Today’s menu is steak and roasted vegetables,” Sophia explained as she helped Anya settle on her chair, “and we have some mashed potatoes for the little Miss here. Does that sound good?”
Yor glanced at Loid, waiting for a nod of confirmation, and smiled as he did. “That would be perfect, Sophia, thank you.”
“Great! I’ll tell my husband to get started with it, and I’ll bring something for your dog. What’s your name, gorgeous boy?”
“His name is Bond,” Anya intervened excitedly as Bond’s tail started wagging so hard Loid feared for a second that he would sprain it. “He’s the best dog!”
“You’re right, Miss,” Sophia nodded wisely. “The best name for the best dog. Surely, he deserves a nice bone as a treat, don’t you think?”
To Loid and Yor, she added with a wink, “Don’t worry, it’s on the house. I’ll be right back with some drinks.”
True to her words, she was back barely a minute later, swirling around tables and customers with a grace only years of experience could bring, holding the biggest bone he’d ever seen in his life and a plate of drinks – two glasses of wine, and a grenadine with a straw for Anya.
“I’ll bring your meals as soon as they’re ready,” she promised, and then she was gone again.
Yor chuckled easily, and took a hold of her glass to raise it in Loid’s direction with an inviting smile.
“To you, Loid,” she offered. “I hope you’ll enjoy this evening. Happy birthday.”
“To us,” he corrected gently while he clinked his glass softly against hers, then Anya’s when the small girl held out her glass too. “Thank you for tonight. This is perfect.”
His chest felt warm, almost terribly so, as he asked Yor about her work and Anya about school, and as, in return, he told them about his work – without even needing to fake the boring aspects of his cover, he realized with an internal scoff. He felt as if out of time and out of place, watching those two girls occupying his entire world with smiles and laughter and gentle touches.
It didn’t take long before their plates came, to Anya’s greatest relief – a swirl of colors and appetizing scents passed by in a blur before being deposited swiftly in front of them. Loid smiled as he watched Yor’s and Anya’s eyes widen in a similar fashion, both looking absolutely famished; not that Loid could pretend to be anything but.
The food they had been served, as Yor had promised, was delicious – the meat was tender and perfectly seasoned, the vegetables roasted just right.
“I haven’t thanked you yet for the meal you made me today,” he suddenly remembered. “I’m very grateful that you still take the time to prepare meals when you’re already so busy – thank you for this. It was excellent.”
Yor blushed, ducking her head to rearrange nervously pieces of eggplants and zucchini on her plate. “It seemed only fair that I tried helping with cooking,” she answered softly, “since you often assist me for laundry and cleaning. Did it taste okay? Was there enough food?”
“It was just right,” he promised. “You’ve been improving a lot, Yor.”
Although the peanuts would hopefully not be a necessary addition the next time, he mentally added with a small smile.
For some reason, he was met with a shocked, almost disappointed stare from Anya – who was however quickly distracted by Yor.
Next time, huh? he mused, watching silently but fondly as Yor cut a small piece of her meat, made a show of blowing on it and offered it to the young girl for her to taste.
A wave of melancholia washed over him, brutal as a tide.
He really was getting used to this pretend life, wasn’t he?
How long would it even still last?
How long before he had to leave all of this behind himself, before he had to forget about this all?
Anya stuck her tongue out in concentration as she cut a piece of her own meat and presented it to Yor. “Mama, do you wanna taste mine?”
The same scene repeated under his eyes, albeit with reversed roles, and both girls chuckled at their own antics.
“Papa!”
Owlishly, he blinked his thoughts away, and eventually brought his attention back to reality. Anya was looking at him expectantly, holding out yet another piece of food – for him, this time.
“Do you want to taste my plate too? It’s really good.”
He nodded, and Anya took her child-sized fork to his mouth with much more violence than he had expected, cramming the food inside and nearly knocking one of his teeth out in the process.
“That’s… good,” he said with a wince as Yor turned her head to the side, vainly attempting to hide her giggle by taking another sip of wine. At least he hadn’t choked. “Thank you.”
He returned the favor by allowing her to steal from his plate, and pretended not to see anything when she picked up a piece of food and made it disappear under the table cloth, where Bond had raised his nose from his bone to enjoy the treat as well. He’d told her many times not to cede to Bond’s pleading eyes when they were eating, but he could suppose a show of lenience wouldn’t hurt if it was just for this one time.
Even if this wasn’t the first time he’d told himself that.
They found themselves finishing their food rather quickly, cleaning their plates until they were almost as good as new – and Sophia must have had either a sixth sense or an excellent timing, as she flew to their table a mere handful of minutes later, grinning widely.
That’s when Loid saw what she was holding.
He barely had the time to catch the knowing, amused glance she sent Yor, before a cake was placed in front of him, basking their little table in the warm and flickering glow of candles.
It was round and generously sized, covered in a large layer of chocolate. Anya’s eyes all but shone as she gulped audibly, and Loid felt his own mouth go dry – not at the sight of the cake itself, but rather the white frosting that drew delicate curves onto the top of the dessert, snaking between candles and coloured sprinkles.
Happy Birthday, Loid, the message said, and he felt something within him unravel at those very words.
It felt rather strange, to celebrate the existence of a person who had never truly existed.
But as far as covers went, he figured the one of Loid Forger was from the worst among the many he had endorsed in previous lives. Maybe, just maybe – and for the sake of operation Strix – it wouldn’t be too bad to indulge himself once, and appreciate for one evening the life Loid Forger was supposed to be living.
“Make a wish,” Yor told him gently, her tone fond and her eyes so terribly warm that he felt like burning. “If your wish is genuine, a star will answer it.”
Anya covered her ears. “I can’t listen to your wish,” she explained at the confused looks she gained from both Yor and him, intensely serious, “or it won’t happen.”
He followed Yor’s giggle with a chuckle of his own, and paused just long enough to take in the view of their small table – Anya’s bubbly enthusiasm, Yor’s strong tenderness and Bond’s gentle presence – before a thought struck him.
It was a greedy delusion.
It was an impossible reality.
Nevertheless, Loid closed his eyes, made his wish, and blew out the candles.
Yor and Anya insisted that he had the first bite of the cake – tradition, they said.
The cake tasted rich, melted on the tongue, and was far sweeter than anything he ever remembered eating in his life.
“It’s delicious,” he half-choked out so they could start eating too, unsure as to whether the lump in his throat was due to the cake itself or rather an overwhelming wave of feelings he wasn’t quite ready to delve into.
It was probably much sweeter than anything he could ever hope to get used to.
But then again…
Maybe enjoying it for one night wouldn’t hurt.
The air was significantly cooler as they stepped outside. The night breeze brushed against his cheeks, carrying away the echoes of bubbling laughter and drunken chatter that still emanated from the restaurant.
Anya was dozing off in his arms, the result of a nearly literal food coma, while a tipsy Yor had tucked her hand in the crook of his other arm for support, laughing softly but freely at the snores the child gave. Bond, having enjoyed his fair share of meat and bones as well, seemed to be enjoying the stroll and the cool air greatly.
Their progression was slow and uneven as they walked back to their apartment, but Loid found that he didn’t mind it the least, despite his ever-present exhaustion – it gave him the time to appreciate the still-fading smell of thunderstorm, the distant smell of woodfire that emanated from the nearby chimneys, and more importantly the warmth of the two bodies pressed comfortably against him.
Tomorrow, undoubtedly, things would have to go back to normal, with him pretending to be someone he never was, desperately trying not to crack under the pressure of a mission where the world – no, where Anya’s and Yor’s future would be at stake.
But tomorrow was not there yet, and their apartment was still a few streets away – so Loid allowed himself to smile as he listened to the soft snores and content sighs of those strange individuals he had learnt to call family, and let himself breathe in unison.
Beyond the storm, emerging from the horizon, a lone star twinkled.