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Anya knew something wasn't right when she woke up. She didn't feel sick, not quite. Just…off. The thought flashed through her mind that she could plead being sick to her parents, and get out of going to school. But she quickly pushed that thought away with a shake of her head.
No! I need to go to school and make friends with the second son! For world pease!" So, with that decided, she got dressed and ready for school, then went out to the kitchen where her parents were getting breakfast ready.
"Good morning, Anya," Papa said, glancing up briefly at her from where he was flipping the eggs for breakfast. Mama echoed the greeting from where she was setting the table. Mama managed to only pause for a couple seconds while setting the knives out, smiling at the blunt kitchen utensils before setting them around in their place.
Ignoring the oddity of her mama, Anya blearily returned the morning greeting and sat at the table. Bond, who had followed her from her room, slipped down to the floor with a whoosh.
"Are you feeling alright, Miss Anya?" Mama asked, bending over to look at Anya with a worried look on her face. I hope she's not sick, I have a mission today that I need to get to, we would have to find a babysitter fast for her.
Anya, reading Mama's thoughts, widened her eyes into saucers, then put more effort into sitting up straight. "I'm fine, Mama!" She reassured with a bright smile.
"Well, if you're sure," Mama replied, seeming unsure. Well, I guess I'll trust Anya. Besides, this way she can still go to school, and everything will be fine.
"Then you'd better eat up, Anya, and finish getting ready for school," Papa said, setting her breakfast down in front of her.
"Mm," Anya grunted in reply, starting to dig in. She listened absently to her papa's thoughts.
She does seem a little off, but hopefully she's just tired. It wouldn't do for her to fall behind in school. She needs to get those Stella stars, for the sake of the mission.
Anya frowned, but not at her papa's harsh words. No, to her they were normal. She was frowning at herself, telling herself that she would have to be strong. Eggs make you strong, right? She better finish all her breakfast then, so she can be as cool as Papa and Mama!
It was a good thought, but, unfortunately, Anya was only able to finish about a third of her breakfast before she just couldn't force it anymore. The eggs felt like sawdust in her mouth, and the toast was impossibly hard to chew. Why did her jaw hurt? Her everything hurt.
But, no! She had to be strong, for Papa, for world pease! Not wanting to have to finish her breakfast, knowing she couldn't even if she tried, she jumped out of her chair quickly and took her plate over to the sink. Or…that's what was supposed to happen.
In reality, she spun around so fast when she stood up that the world started spinning, and she had to throw her arms out to keep her balance. Of course, she was holding her plate, still piled with food, in her hands. So when she threw her arms out the plate fell to the floor, food spilling everywhere.
Mama was up out of her chair and rounding the table immediately, crouching down next to Anya, who had tears forming in her round-as-saucers eyes.
"Oh, sweetie, are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?" she asked, fussing over Anya. She took Anya's arms in her hands, being impossibly gentle, and started examining her for injuries.
Papa had come out from the kitchen, too, when he heard the noise, but Anya was too busy wiping at her cheeks and eyes to care. The tears wouldn't stop, she couldn't stop crying.
What happened?! Why is she crying? Is she hurt?! Her papa's worried jumble of thoughts came through clearly to the crying girl, and they just made the tears fall harder.
"Anya, I don't think you're hurt, can you tell me what's wrong?" Mama asked gently, as Papa crouched down next to them both on the floor. They were careful not to step in the spilled food on the floor. Luckily the plate hadn't shattered, only spiraling loudly on the floor until it came to a stop. And Bond was already working on cleaning up the mess, wolfing down the food scraps eagerly.
Still. Anya was crying. "I'm…I'm sowwy!" She yelled, rubbing her fists in her eyes so violently her eyes started to hurt. "I didn't m-mean to…to d-drop i-it!" Her breaths started to come out in hiccups, jerking her body violently and jarring her headache from crying so harshly.
"Shh, sh, it's okay, Miss Anya, we know you didn't mean to," Mama tried to reassure her. She pulled Anya into her arms, one hand softly cradling the back of Anya's head, buried in her hair. The girl slowly started to calm down in the arms of her mother, face pressed tightly into the woman's neck. "Look, Bond is almost done cleaning it, already, and the plate is in one piece."
"And even if it wasn't," Papa said, shifting to put one, large hand on Anya's back (it was so warm), "we know you didn't mean to drop it, so you wouldn't be in trouble."
Anya sniffled, finally able to wipe away the rest of her tears as she took a step back from Mama. She nodded slowly, rubbing violently at her eyes one last time.
"Now, why don't you go get ready for school, and we'll clean this up," Papa suggested, standing back up slowly. "Are you still hungry? You hadn't eaten much on that plate. Why were you coming into the kitchen anyways?" Maybe she is sick. Should I take her temperature?
Eager to seem fine, for the sake of her papa's mission, Anya was quick to answer with as big a smile as she could muster. "I'm fine, Papa! I'm just not that hungry, so I was done. I'll go get ready for school, so I can do my bestest today!"
Papa didn't seem fully convinced, his face still twisted in that way it was when he was thinking hard about something. But he finally gave in, sighing and uncrossing his arms from where they had been propped on his chest. "Alright, hurry up or you'll be late then."
Anya was quick to do as she was told, just glad that she had escaped her Mama and Papa's sus-pish-eon. She ran into her room and closed the door.
Bond was almost done cleaning up the scraps on the floor by the time Anya left the room, so Loid picked up the plate and took it to the kitchen, and Yor followed to get a cloth. Loid trailed after her as she went back into the dining room, wiping the floor where Bond had picked it clean.
Once they were sure Anya was out of hearing range, they started talking quietly.
"Is Miss Anya okay? I've never seen her react like that to something as simple as dropping a plate," Yor worried, wringing the cloth in her hands.
Loid sighed, reaching a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. He had made himself do that as a habit Loid Forger had. After all, Twilight didn't have any habits, those were detrimental to a spy. But it had been getting easier and easier to perform that simple habit lately. Pushing that thought aside, he went back to the situation at hand.
"I've never seen that, either. She says she's fine, maybe she just woke up tired, or something," he said. Deep down he knew that wasn't right, but he didn't know what else to say. He wasn't really her father, like Yor believed, so he honestly didn't know any more than his wife di. Yor seemed to buy it, though, so they went back to what they had been doing before.
Loid had, fortunately, just taken his own breakfast off the stove before Anya dropped the plate, so he quickly grabbed it and walked over to the table, sitting down. Yor was already there, finishing the half eaten breakfast she had left.
Anya came out to the dining room ten minutes later, dressed in her uniform with her school bag over her shoulder. "Anya is ready," she said stiffly.
Suppressing a smile at his daughter's unique way of speaking sometimes, Loid wiped his lips and fingers with a napkin (even though they were already clean, spys couldn't afford to be messy in any way), and then stood up with his empty plate.
"Alright, let me rinse this and then I'll take you down to the stop," he said. Anya already had her shoes on by the time he was done. Loid frowned at how strangely she was acting, but Twilight just slipped his own outerwear on and grabbed the doorknob, opening it for Anya to go first.
"Bye, Mama," Anya called out.
"Goodbye, Miss Anya, have a good day at school!" Yor responded with a bright smile.
Loid turned and smiled at her, lifting his hat before putting it back on his head. "I'll be back in a bit, Yor." And then they were off.
The Forgers' life carried on as usual for the rest of the day. Well, at least for the parents it did. Loid came back from dropping Anya off at the bus stop, finding Yor in the now-clean kitchen. He thanked her, then they both got ready and left for work themselves.
Sometimes they would both drop Anya off and then leave for work right from the bus stop, but that was only when everything went smoothly in the morning. And that morning could not exactly have been described as "smooth".
For Anya, however, her day was completely normal, while also not. It was normal for her to not be able to pay attention in class, or to not understand what the teachers were saying. It was not normal to feel like she would fall asleep at any moment, even while talking with Becky.
Falling asleep was something that should only happen in class, and at night when she was in bed with Agent Chimera and her other agents. Well, at least in Anya's mind. So she tried her hardest to stay awake, but the weird feeling she felt when she woke up just kept getting weirder. She was kind of hot, but no one else was, so she figured she must not be either.
After a while of trying to pay attention, she just couldn't anymore. Her head felt…foggy. Like that one day there had been a cloud on the ground. Papa had called it "fog", and Anya figured there must be some of that in her head.
"Go 'way, Mr. Fog," she murmured, waving her hand above and around her head. She was sleeping on her desk, though, head against the cool wood, so she really couldn't get a good angle to wave the fog away.
"Anya, wake up," Becky whispered beside her. Anya blinked sleepily, rubbing a fist in her eye as she slowly sat up. Luckily, Becky had woken her up before the teacher could turn around and notice that she was sleeping. But it still didn't make it any easier for Anya to stay awake for the rest of the day.
"For Papa's mission," she told herself over and over. She told herself that at lunch, when none of the food seemed yummy. She couldn't bring herself to eat it. She told herself that in every class before the end of the school day, trying not to fall asleep. She had completely given up on trying to take notes or understand anything.
Luckily none of the teachers gave out homework that day, and so Anya was able to just say goodbye to Becky and climb on the bus at the end of the day, eager to be back home with Papa. And Mama. And Bond.
"I'm home," she said quietly as she walked in the door, letting her bag slip from around her shoulders. So heavy.
"Ah, welcome home, Miss Anya!" Mama called, coming around the corner with a smile. Anya returned the smile as she took off her shoes. Or, she tried to.
Hmm, she doesn't look any better than this morning, Mama's thoughts reached her. I really hope nothing is wrong. She would say something if she was sick, right?
Anya wasn't sick, though, so she didn't have to say anything. Instead she just grabbed her school bag and made her way farther into the house with her socked feet. Bond came padding over to greet her with a big kiss, and she returned the greeting with a few head pats.
The dog tilted his head at her, confused at her lack of enthusiasm, but she was too tired to notice.
"Welcome back, Anya," Papa's voice was muffled by the kitchen wall and the sizzling of whatever he was frying, but she smiled a small smile at how he always greeted her no matter how busy he was.
"Anya is going to go get changed," she said, making her way to her room. She didn't hear her Mama and Papa's worried thoughts, too wrapped up in her own tiredness.
A few minutes later she was dressed in loose clothing, feeling a small bit of relief from how much cooler it was than her uniform. She was still tired, though.
"Anya," Papa called as she entered the kitchen, "can you help Yor set the table, please?"
Anya nodded and went over to the cupboard where the plates and cups were; Mama was already setting out the cutlery and tidying up. The plates were high up, so she had to climb onto the counter to get them. She was able to do it, even though it was harder than it would be any other day. Once she was up there, however, the rest of the kitchen started spinning.
"Mmm," she moaned softly, holding a small hand to her head. Once the spinning had calmed down a bit she reached out and pulled the cupboard door open. However, to do that she had to lean back a bit as she opened it, so the door wouldn't bump into her. This was her downfall, literally.
As she leaned back to avoid opening the cupboard into herself, her balance faltered and the room started spinning again. She didn't have the balance or the energy to tip her body back up again, so she continued her downwards motion, eyes closing and body slumping, as she fell backwards off the counter.
"Papa…" she whispered, right before her eyes closed fully.
"Anya!" Someone called out. Sounded like Papa. She was unconscious before she could even feel strong arms wrapping around her, stopping her from hitting the floor.
Loid had kept an eye on Anya as she climbed up onto the counter, aware of how off she had been that morning, and even when she got home. But it figured that just as he moved to turn the stove off was when she opened the cupboard door, and started to fall.
"Papa," he heard, so softly it could have been nothing. But he wasn't a trained spy for nothing, so he was able to hear it and react.
Turning to see his daughter falling backwards off the counter, eyes closed and limbs limp, was one of the scariest things he had seen in all his years, even during the war and as a spy.
"Anya!" The cry ripped through his throat without his consent, filling the large gap between them. At the same time as his voice crossed the gap, his body moved to do the same. She was only a few steps away from him, but it seemed like miles.
His training as a spy, and his long legs, benefited him greatly in that situation, and he was luckily able to quickly step to her, his arms reaching out and cushioning her fall as he caught her.
She was unmoving in his arms, other than her breaths, which were coming in quick, rapid pants, chest heaving with each breath. And now that he looked closely he could see that her eyebrows were furrowed in pain, her face pale except for the bright red cheeks.
"Anya…" he muttered, lowering to one knee with her propped in his arms on the other knee.
"Anya!" Yor exclaimed, running around the divider between kitchen and dining room. Loid's head snapped up when she came in, and his head seemed to clear a bit. He hadn't realized that he had been frozen in shock until he was snapped out of it. Sloppy.
"Is she okay?" His wife asked, bending over beside them with her hands on her knees. "What happened?"
"I don't know, she just fainted," Loid admitted, beginning to check his daughter for the problem. He already had his suspicions, but he had to make sure it wasn't something more serious. He ran his hands quickly around her head and through her hair, feeling for any bumps that could indicate she hit her head. He found nothing that would indicate she had a concussion, or give a reason for why she fell, until his hands landed on the back of her neck. The skin there was burning hot, way too hot to be healthy.
His hands circled her head until they laid on her cheek, then her forehead. "She has a fever," he said, not raising his head to face his wife. He had suspected as much when she fell into his arms, so it wasn't such a shock to him, but it seemed to be one to his gentle wife. A hand was quickly raised to her mouth, covering the gasp of surprise.
"Could you please turn the stove off," he asked her, not taking his eyes off his daughter. He had been in the middle of frying some mushrooms, and didn't want to start a fire. Yor rushed to do as asked, quickly switching off the burner, and even going so far as to move the pan off the burner as well. Loid appreciated it more than she would know.
Yor turned back to him, but whatever she had been about to say next was cut off when Anya shifted in Loid's arms, a small sigh coming from her as her eyes blinked open slowly. Yor looked like she was about to say something, most likely to ask Anya how she was feeling, but then she thought better of it, instead staying silent.
That's probably for the best, I wouldn't want Anya to get overwhelmed, and Yor can be a bit enthusiastic at times, Loid thought, but it was fond in terms of his wife.
"Anya?" he asked softly, shifting her in his arms so she was sitting up a bit more. "How do you feel?"
"I feel…" she seemed a bit unsure, her eyes hazy and unfocused, but also like she was concentrating hard, "I feel funny." She looked down so he couldn't see her face, and then he heard soft sniffling. "I don't like it, Papa," she whined, cuddling up against his chest slowly, seeming to be seeking his body warmth. He could feel his shirt getting damp, and his heart cracked apart when he realized his little girl was crying.
No, Twilight, she's not your daughter, you only care because she has to be happy for Operation Strix to be a success. Anya seemed to cry harder right then, her small shoulders jerking as she sobbed.
Not knowing what to do, Loid just curled her farther into his shirt, and looked up at Yor with pleading eyes.
A determined look made its way to Yor's eyes, and then she was moving to crouch on the kitchen floor next to them. "Sweetie, can you tell us what's wrong? Have you been feeling sick all day?"
Anya's head shook in a nod against Loid's shirt, but she didn't turn to face them, keeping her face buried in the folds of the fabric. "Anya's head hurts, and I…I'm dizzy, feel hot, and…."
Loid's hand moved to her forehead, unbidden, once again. He didn't know why he did that, considering he already knew she had a fever, but it seemed to help some, if the way Anya leaned into his cooler hand was any indication. With her forehead pressed up against the palm of his hand, rather than his shirt, he was able to see her face a bit better once again. She was so pale. I need to get her to bed.
"Mmm, bed, tired," Anya murmured, seeming to echo his thoughts. Her mouth was slightly open as she breathed, a stark contrast to her closed eyes.
"Don't you want to eat something first, Miss Anya? Yor asked.
"MmMm," Anya whined out, tilting her head back into Loid's shirt. "Not 'ungry. Tummy hurts."
Loid's brows creased in worry, even though he didn't tell them to, and he stroked a hand through her sweaty hair. He opened his mouth to say something, but once again was lost for words, and his jaw clicked shut with an audible snap.
"Miss Anya, you need to take some medicine to feel better, but you can't do that unless you eat something," Yor tried again, tilting her head and leaning closer in an attempt to catch a glimpse of her daughter's face. Anya just shook her head, her sobs shaking her small frame even harder.
"What about oatmeal?" Loid blurted out, his lips moving ahead of his conscious mind, it seemed. Anya looked up at him for a few seconds, face blank, then simply nodded her head.
"If Papa makes it," the girl mumbled, struggling to her feet and out of Loid's hold. He let her go, holding back his visible worry at how she wobbled slightly on her feet.
"Okay, Anya, I'll make you some oatmeal, you'll take some medicine after you eat it, and then we'll get you to bed. How does that sound?" He made sure to lay it all out simply so her fever muddled mind could understand it. She nodded, and he took that as his cue to start work on the oatmeal. He put the dinner he had been preparing for them all aside, planning to make it for just him and Yor after they got Anya settled. Dinner could afford to wait a bit, just for tonight.
While he got out the necessary tools and ingredients to make a basic oatmeal, Yor took Anya by the hand and led her to the living room. As he worked in the kitchen Loid could see them both settled on the couch, Anya laying down with her head on Yor's lap, and Yor's slender hands softly stroking through Anya's pink hair. It made something in Loid's chest feel like it was tight and swelling. He refocused on the oatmeal, unwilling to address that tight feeling in his chest.
The impromptu meal was soon ready and, after dishing a small portion into a plastic bowl, Loid carried it out to the living room, where Anya had apparently drifted to a half-asleep state. Her eyes, which had been half closed in drowsiness when he walked in, slowly opened about three quarters of the way, and she struggled to sit up. Yor—being the amazing mother she was, Loid though—automatically put her arm around the sick girl to help her sit up.
Loid gently settled the bowl in Anya's lap, and handed her a small spoon, making sure she had a hold of it before letting go.
"T'ank 'ou, Papa," Anya muttered out sleepily, plopping the spoon into the warm oatmeal, which had milk and honey in it just the way Loid knew she liked.
"You're welcome, sweetie," Loid said. Wait, did he just call her sweetie? Turning away quickly to hide his internal panic at how easily that endearment had slipped out of his mouth, he scrambled to stand up and mumbled out, "I'll go finish making our supper."
"Alright, Loid, thank you," Yor said softly after him, her arm still around Anya's small shoulders as the pinkette lifted the spoon to her mouth and took a bite. Loid tried to put his slip up (or was it?) out of his mind, and instead focused on what he said he was going to do, finishing the supper he had started, this time for just him and Yor, not Anya.
The apartment was quiet as he cooked, having moved the pan back onto the burner, and resumed his other preparations as well. Occasionally, when he allowed himself to glance up and see his wife and daughter (not yours, Twilight, not really! He berated himself internally), he was able to watch as Anya raised a spoon of warm oatmeal to her mouth and took a bite, or as Yor's slender fingers stroked through Anya's frizzy, slightly-sweaty hair, releasing the strands from any knots there were.
Forcing down a soft, sappy smile that was rising to his face unbidden, Loid dished out his and Yor's plates of food, but put covers on them and left them on the warm portion of the stove. After washing his hands and toweling them dry he rounded the counter and went back to the living room, just as Anya's head was falling as she nodded off to sleep. The girl's head lolled to the side and landed on Yor's shoulder, her almost-empty bowl just starting to slip from her weak grasp. Loid reached out and grabbed the bowl just before it fell, cradling it in his palm, and raising the other hand up to Anya's forehead.
The girl hummed softly in her not-quite-sleep, and Loid withdrew his hand. Yor looked up at him questioningly, worry swimming in her crimson eyes, but Loid just smiled softly at her. Anya had a fever, yes, but it wasn't high enough to be concerning yet.
Yor seemed to get the silent message, and smiled down at Anya. "Should I take her to bed?" she asked quietly.
Loid opened his mouth to agree, then stopped himself with a sigh. As much as he hated having to wake the girl up again…"We need her to take some medicine before she goes to bed. I'll go get it, if you want to wake her up again."
Yor nodded, beginning to run her fingers up through Anya's bangs, whispering the girl's name softly. Loid could hear Anya humming again, waking up and rubbing her eyes, as he walked to the bathroom where the kids' medicine was, after setting the dirty bowl on the coffee table. He would take that to the kitchen later to wash.
It's a good thing he thought to get children's medicine before, even though it had never been needed until now. He would have looked like a poor father if he didn't have medicine for his daughter, which was why he bought it, of course. He was glad of that, but also sad that they even needed it at all. He hated to see his little girl suffering so much.
No, Twilight, she's only your daughter for the sake of the mission, get over yourself! He shook the thought away, quickly walking back to the living room, the white bottle with the pink wrapper in his hand.
"Anya, I need you to drink this, okay?" he asked as he got close, opening the bottle and pouring the directed amount into the cap, which doubled as a small cup. Anya wrinkled her nose at it, but did take the cup and raise it to her lips. After an experimental sniff, which seemed to produce more favorable results than she had expected, she clumsily put the small cap to her lips and drank the medicine.
Anya smacked her lips slowly, eyes already half closed again in sleep, and head sagging.
"I know, it's not nice being sick, Anya, but this will help you feel better," Yor muttered comfortingly. "Now how about we get you to bed, hmm?"
Anya nodded, then reached out her arms towards Loid. The spy was startled, not having expected that. It was true that he was usually the one to put her to bed, but he didn't think that she would have cared so much as to reach for him when Yor was practically holding her already.
But, he wasn't one to complain about his daughter (not his daughter, not really, but yes, still his!) wanting him, so, carefully, gently, he placed his hands under her arms, pulling her off the couch and into his lap where he was crouched on the floor, then slowly stood up with her in his arms. Anya immediately placed her head on his shoulder, seeming to be falling asleep again already.
"Papa, can I watch Bo'dman 'morrow?" Her drowsy voice drifted up to him, putting a small, soft smile on his face.
"Yes, Anya, you can watch Bondman tomorrow," was his firm reply. She hummed once again, a sound he was starting to love, as it indicated his daughter was content.
He flicked the light on in her room, taking only three steps before he was kneeling next to her small bed. She was half asleep as he gently laid her down, but she was awake enough to smile at him and say, "Thank you, Papa, Anya loves you. And Mama."
Yor, hearing this from where she stood at the doorway, put a hand to her chest as tears built in her eyes. Loid, crouched on the floor by the sleeping girl, and out of sight of his (fake. Not fake!) wife, allowed his face to express the love he felt towards this little girl, who wore her heart on her sleeve and was so eager to accept Loid in her life and to love him. And to the woman standing in the doorway, coming with them even though she didn't need to, taking time out of her life to take care of a small girl who wasn't even hers, and protecting a fake marriage when she deserved so much more.
Loid, Twilight, loved his family, and he would never change, trade, or leave them for the world. They were his, and he protected what was his, he took care of it. Even if that meant taking care of a sick child. Because that's what fathers were for, and that's what Loid, and Twilight, was: a father.