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December had fallen upon Berlint, and all the cheer of Christmas time with it.
…A cheer not shared by one Agent Twilight, pseudonym Loid Forger, at least partially because of the call he had received on behalf of Eden College, requesting his presence due to an incident involving his daughter.
And Twilight, being Twilight, was currently running through a list of possible, increasingly catastrophic scenarios.
Is Anya sick? Is she injured? Oh no, what if she got another Tonitrus Bolt? The thoughts raced through his head at a breakneck pace, each spelling a gloomy fate for both Anya and Operation: STRIX as a whole as he entered the gates and speed walked across shoveled pathways towards the disciplinarian’s office.
Finally, he reached his destination, assuming a countenance of fatherly concern.
The door opened, and his eyes immediately sought Anya, relief flooding in at the sight of the girl swinging her feet without a care in the world…next to a surly looking Damian Desmond.
The relief evaporated.
…Shit, she punched him again, didn’t she? He despaired, careful to ensure nothing showed on his face.
But the guilty look that flashed across Anya’s face when she looked at him told him he’d slipped.
“It is good to see you again, Mr. Forger,” Henry Henderson greeted him, currently trussed up in what looked like the world’s thinnest Santa impersonator. “Though I wish it was under more elegant circumstances.”
“I came as soon as I got the call,” he said, ever so slightly breathlessly, greeting Henderson with a tip of his cap and an apologetic look. “What happened? I know there was an incident but I wasn’t told specifics, is Anya okay? She didn’t get into any trouble did she?”
“Calm yourself, Mr. Forger. Your daughter is fine, and she was not the instigator of this particular…kerfuffle,”
Twilight released a genuine sigh of relief at that, “What happened?”
Henderson cocked his head, squinting as he seemingly struggled with an adequate explanation, “Well, the students in your daughter’s class were partaking in a series of Christmas activities, including writing letters to Santa. The problem arose when Master Desmond insisted, quite loudly, mind you, that Santa…wasn’t real,”
“Indeed, we narrowly avoided a riot,”
“May I ask about my daughter’s involvement here?”
Henderson winced, “Your daughter, upon being confronted with this pronouncement…agreed.”
Loid winced, sucking a breath through his teeth, and Henderson continued, “She seemed quite convinced on the matter, but surprisingly not put out.”
“I am so sorry, I don't know where she got that idea,” though admittedly, he had an idea. He had, as expected from any father, informed Anya of all of the trappings and traditions of Christmas, Santa Claus included. Anya, to whom this information was a depressingly new development, had seemed unsettlingly skeptical of the idea of a magical, reindeer riding, gift giving saint, but she hadn’t objected, so he’d considered the mission accomplished.
Oh, what a fool he was.
“But, to your daughter’s credit, she managed to calm the class by leading them in a spirited round of caroling. Or at least a six year old’s attempt at such,”
“See Papa?” Anya shouted from where she was sat, the outburst sending everyone jolting in shock, “I defused the sitch-u-ation like Bondman would!”
Loid gave her a paternal smile. “Good job Anya,” he reassured her.
And sorry for being so quick to blame you, he mentally apologized. He’d have to properly apologize too, but now he had more pressing matters to attend to.
He approached the two children, crouching to their level. Anya beamed at him, while Damian sat with arms crossed and a dismissive look on his face.
“Where’s all this, ‘Santa’s not real talk’ coming from?” he asked with light humor.
Damian answered with a dismissive tsk, “‘Cause he’s not! He’s just some stupid lie grown-ups tell to cover up the fact they got you the wrong gift!”
Loid raised an eyebrow at the blunt explanation, a gasp of “How inelegant!” sounding from behind him.
“Who told you this?”
Damian looked away, cheeks coloring, “...My brother. But that doesn’t mean it’s a lie,” he paused, “Father confirmed it when I asked.”
Twilight’s already low opinion of Donovan Desmond fell even further, and his gaze shifted to Anya, who suddenly looked taken off guard.
“Anya, where did you learn this fact?”
“Uh…Mama!” she blurted out, and Twilight couldn’t suppress his shock.
“Yor!?”
“No!” Anya backtracked, “Not Mama! First Mama!”
“...Oh,” Loid breathed out, excruciatingly aware of Henderson’s eyes on his back. The fictitious first Mrs. Forger had increasingly become a scapegoat, part of a heart wrenching cover that served to explain some of Anya’s more, concerning, deficits.
“Anya, I’m so sorry your birth mother did that to you, and that I wasn’t around to stop it,”
“It’s okay, Papa,” Anya said so earnestly that Twilight’s heart panged, “I’m not sad ‘bout it. Besides-,” she smiled, “I like my presents more when they come from you!”
Twilight was…touched by the sentiment.
And apparently, so was Henderson.
“Such pure elegance!” He exclaimed, fist clenched over his chest and tears streaming down his face, “Turning the loss of innocence into devotion for family! It’s nothing less than a Christmas miracle!”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Loid murmured, before taking a look at his watch. Half an hour until class ended.
“Mr. Henderson, if it’s not too much trouble, might I ask you to excuse Anya early? She’s certainly had a trying day, and I’d like to cheer her up,”
He wasn’t quite sure what came over him with that suggestion. Tactically, it was a bad move, adding a possible third Tonitrus for cutting class to her already existing two.
“Of course, Mr. Forger. I’m more than willing to indulge in a little holiday leniency,” he bowed, and Anya cheered as she hopped from a chair.
Suddenly, a serious expression overtook her face as turned to the still sullen Damian. “I hope your parents get you what you want this year.”
Damian went bright red, and Anya turned to Mr. Henderson, “There’s a Stella Star on Anya’s wishlist,” she said gravely, before giggling and running out of the office, Loid following behind her as he tried to suppress a chuckle.
“Thank you,” Anya said as they left school grounds, arms wrapped around Loid’s neck as he carried her in one hand, her bag thrown over his shoulder, the picture of a caring father-daughter duo.
“You’re welcome,” Loid said, before hesitating, “Anya-,”
“I know Santa’s a lie,” Anya said, surprisingly solemnly, “So please don’t lie to me about him,”
“...Okay, I won’t,” he said. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yep!” Anya nodded into his neck, “Presents are better when they come from you and Mama. And besides, do you think Santa could get me out of class early?”
Loid’s smile returned. “Point taken. Your Mama might be a little sad, though,”
Anya seemed to consider this, “Then we should get her an extra special present!”
“Alright,” Loid laughed.
“Can we get a gift for Sy-on boy too?”
“Mm, if it’s not too expensive,”
"And Bond?"
"Of course! No way I'd forget him!"
“You’re the best, Papa!”
“Thank you, Anya.”