Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She had accepted about two decades ago that happiness would never last long for her.

Yor had been still a child, barely in grade school, when her parents had been torn from her...a day that forced her to become sister and parent to her baby brother. In her desperation to provide for Yuri, she had sold her being to Garden because his smile and peace were worth the money the job provided to keep him fed, clothed, and housed.

Even if it meant she would never be normal. Could never truly be happy like her brother wanted her to be.

But if there was one thing that made her almost forget that the specter of bad luck and unhappiness followed her, it was being a Forger.

Within hours of being around Anya, the little girl had brightened her whole world in a way that Yor couldn't fathom. Holding Anya's hand that first day had been a near-heavenly experience. And Loid had accepted her for what she was (even if he didn't know exactly what that was) within the span of their second interaction.

But she really should have known. Nothing ever stayed good for her, and there was no chance for the Forgers to be any different.

War had once again come to Ostania. Though, this time they would be a supporting force rather than the primary battlefront.

She got the news first, a depressing perk of working at City Hall. News from on high would reach them before the media was informed, even if it was only enough time to ensure paperwork was marginally ahead of the curve. Names and addresses would need to be pulled from records for the defense department to send letters out. A list that would be constantly updated as men answered the call of duty.

The City Hall girls would be busy for weeks after the announcement to ensure the paperwork was in order. But knowing the names of the young men that were being summoned to the war front only made her stomach knot. Of course, not all of the records had been pulled yet, but they had seen the list requested for the war machine.

No one in the office had escaped unscathed. Some of the older women saw their sons on the list, the younger women found their boyfriends, brothers, and husbands' names staring up at them. When the dust finally settled around them, Yor found herself the latter category.

Her mind still spun as the words "Yuri Briar" and "Loid Forger" stared uncaringly at her, dark ink in precise type like a death warrant.

Which, for all intents, it was.

Her husband and brother were going to war and there was not a damn thing she could do about it.

"HaHa!" A little voice called as a small figure barreled into her as she walked in the door. Yor was in such a daze that she merely stumbled at the greeting, a delayed response. Good thing it was only her daughter and not a target.

"Welcome...home..." Anya's voice trailed off, bright green eyes clouding with confusion as she stared up at her mother. "What's wrong, HaHa?"

As she looked down at the pink haired angel who had inexplicably welcomed her with open arms, Yor realized that tears were swimming in her eyes. With a sniff, she furiously wiped them away. Now was not the time to break down. Anya didn't need to know, yet. She wouldn't understand.

But before she could respond, Loid walked around the corner, a warm smile on his unassuming face. "Welcome back, Yo- hey. What happened?" His greeting turned to concern almost as fast as his daughter, and Yor couldn't hold back a half laugh, half sob.

What was she supposed to say?

"J-just a r-rough day at work," she answered, skirting the issue without outright lying. It had been hard, nearly unbearable in the office, but she couldn't explain just yet. Not with Anya present.

"ChiChi, can we have dinner now?" The little girl requested, drawing her parents out of their thoughts.

"Of course."

Later. Later I'll tell him...but what are we going to do?

"The chairman will give an important address at the top of the hour. All should tune in for the broadcast," the news anchor announced.

Out of the corner of his eye, Twilight couldn't help but see Yor flinch. His eyes narrowed at that. Is the broadcast too loud or…?

He knew that Yor didn't always watch the news broadcast since she'd usually busy herself with some task but have it play in the background. Sometimes they would discuss it over tea when Anya finally fell asleep, but it wasn't something in her routine to fully listen to and understand - even just the surface level propaganda. Though she would listen intently about any crime or safety concerns, which were generally accurate for the sake of public security, though lacked some of the context especially if the SSS was suppressing some cases from becoming public knowledge.

It was one of the things he disliked about publicly controlled media. Not that Westali media was exceedingly better - with its eye turned more towards sensationalism, even if the press was free to discuss topics considered taboo in the east. Though, Ostania's controlled media did have its perks for a spy like him.

With a barely perceivable sigh, Twilight pushed those thoughts away and stood. "Yor," he beckoned, snapping her out of whatever thought caused her to bite her lip. "Can I help you with the dishes?"

Yor's eyes met his and misted before she blinked whatever emotion was held there. "If you'd like to," she answered, sinking her hands further into the suds. "I'm almost done though, so you needn't if-"

Making his way into the kitchen, he pulled out a clean dish towel and began to wipe down the first plate. At first, he didn't push any conversation, the sound of the clink of dishes, the running of water, and the tick of the clock filling the silence. Yor was clearly thinking hard about something, though, for the life of him, Twilight couldn't begin to tease out what. She had been very clearly upset when she arrived home but after thinking through every possible option of what could have upset her at home, nothing really stood out.

"Just a rough day at work" had felt like too much and too little truth. And while he spent many hours making sure Anya was doing alright and the operation was moving as well as possible at Eden, spying on his wife at City Hall wasn't exactly something he needed to do. There were occasions where she did offer some information, such as a form change which was frustrating her and he coworkers since it meant the possibility of overtime, but generally speaking, there wasn't much that he needed to glean.

And since her expression wasn't like that of when she had come home with small nicks on her hands from taking cooking lessons or in that severe, angry look she had after work months prior after bringing home the milk and eggs he'd asked her to (which had been his mistake. He'd made sure that they were fully stocked at all times and that expression hadn't graced her visage since). But right now, she looked more melancholic. A deep seated sadness that seemed to only now rush to the forefront and -

A teacup slipped from her fingers and fell into the sudsy water, the facade of holding it together crashing down with it. Her shoulders shook as her hands reached up to slap her face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She stammered, pulling away from the sink and bolting from the kitchen.

Twilight was in motion before he could think anything through, dish towel fluttering to the countertop as his strides chased after his wife. Arm outstretched towards her, hoping to snag her shoulder or arm, to confirm she was alright, that she hadn't injured herself -

The television program changed just as the clock struck the top of the hour. The pair froze in the hallway as the sound of press camera's clicking filled the space.

Then, a voice, one that is familiar to Twilight for multiple reasons, as familiar as it should be to any Ostanian, a requirement for his cover. The greeting is pretty standard, his voice calm, serious, and almost…sad. The spy's eyes narrow at that, but he's torn between turning towards the television and continuing to find out what's wrong with Yor.

But by her expression - ruby eyes wide, face pale, breath frozen in her lungs…maybe the two are connected.

Slowly, his eyes turn towards the television, ears honed in on what the man began to say.

"...our allies have requested our assistance against an invader. And, after discussing this with…"

The phone suddenly rang. The sound overwhelmed the television, though Twilight could still read the next statement from the man's lips.

"...Ostania will assist our ally. Our force has been mobilized and a draft issued…"

No.

The phone continued to ring, but Twilight could barely move. He should answer it. It was probably critically important, perhaps handler on the other end. How did we miss this? Why -

Yor was stronger. She always was. Her painted fingers lifted the headset from the cradle and brought it to her ear. "Hello, Forger residence," she answered, her voice barely wobbling.

Twilight's mind was a mess of thoughts and static. We've been doing everything possible to prevent conflict! Was it all for not? How-

"Loid," a painfully soft voice came from his side. His blue eyes snapped towards the speaker. Yor stood at his elbow, her face a mixture of too many emotions. This woman who could roundhouse kick him across the room, who protected Anya who knows how many times… looked ready to break as her shaking hands held out the phone to him. "It-it's for you."

For several heartbeats, he just stood there, staring at the cream colored device in her milky hands. As if it was a bomb. As if this one device was going to shatter everything he had worked too damn hard for.

He still took it. Duty, even when facing an uneasy outcome, always called and he would always answer.

"Forger," he answered, his voice still as a pond awaiting the ripples of a rock.

"Dr. Forger, we have an emergency patient. House call request at apartment D."

Before he could answer, a click sounded in his ear. He carefully followed suit, resting the phone in the cradle and turning back to the room around him.

Breathe. A voice whispered within his mind. Adapt.

Sucking in a necessary breath, Twilight marched towards his room. He would need to grab his jacket, briefcase and hat. He needed to look the part of Dr. Forger, even if he was still reeling from the announcement. "That was the hospital, informing me of an emergency patient," he said as he opened the door, voice normal volume but felt more like an automaton than the usual reassurance of Loid Forger. "I'll likely be a few hours-"

As he slipped one arm into his jacket, a pair of arms slipped around his waist, fingers gripping hard on the fabric of his beige sweater.

Twilight froze. What…

"I'm so sorry," Yor sobbed into his back, her shoulders shaking against him. "I-I should have told you sooner. We received the notice this morning and-and…"

The static in his mind stopped, suddenly clear and focused on her words. If she had valuable information…

"They asked for your information, Loid. Y-you are on the list. Yuri too. And I…" another sob wracked through her. "I didn't, don't know what to do."

Something thick settled into his throat. What should he do? What was WISE going to do? Logically, he should get himself to safety, confirm with his handler on the next step and proceed.

But…if Operation Strix was still going to be active, shouldn't he reassure Yor's worries? She was a mess. This rocking of her family - both real and for convenience - had clearly shaken her to the core if she was openly crying and reaching for comfort from him.

A few extra minutes shouldn't hurt…

Dropping the jacket to the floor, Twilight rested his hand atop Yor's freezing fingers, gently prying her from his sweater before spinning around in her arms and wrapping his own around her. It was…odd, but he hoped it would offer some kind of comfort.

She accepted it, thankfully, burying her face into his chest and clinging to him.

Has she ever had someone to lean on? He finds himself wondering as they stand there in his room. She always had her brother, but considering she hadn't wanted to tell him of the ruse between herself and Loid Forger, it was possible she hadn't relied on him like her younger brother had relied on her…

So Twilight let himself be leaned on, his fingers sinking unconsciously into her long, dark locks in a repetitive pattern similarly to how his own mother would soothe him. He couldn't think of a single damn thing to say. Some placid statement would seem pointless. She already knew he would have to leave, now it was just up to WISE on the matter of how… even if she would never know that.

In the end, she was the one to break away. Her arms unlatched from his waist and her feet took her several steps away from him, head lowered to hide her eyes behind her bangs. She seemed to shrink in on herself, withdraw. Never had she seemed so far away yet so close. "I'm sorry," she said again, her voice becoming monotone, lacking the fear and pain of moments prior. "I should let you get to your patient. Anya's already asleep, so we'll be fine."

Before he could answer, she silently fled and the door to her room clicked shut behind her.

His mind was still muddled when he arrived at Safe House D. The trip there had been mostly quiet, as the majority of Berlint was within their homes. Unusual for such a large city, though it probably had to do with people reeling from the announcement. Maybe each of them were making plans to do everything they could to keep their sons, husbands, and brothers safe during the coming draft. Maybe he should have encouraged Yor to call her brother, commiserate with him about what would be expected-

But it was too late to turn back now. He’d speak with her in the morning depending on how long this meeting with his Handler went. Maybe help her arrange a family day with Yuri to help reassure her.

“Tasogare,” Handler greeted without her usual code. They were within the safety bunker and considering the circumstance, perhaps a coded greeting wasn’t needed. The woman still looked mostly put together, but she wasn’t wearing her usual wide brimmed hat and her red gold hair was pulled into a rather messy looking bun.

“Handler,” He answered, giving a brief nod of greeting to Nightfall and two other agents that stood nearby. “I’m assuming this is regarding the announcement.”

“We got blindsided!” The youngest agent growled, practically crushing the papers he held in his hand. “How-”

Handler lifted a delicate hand in a motion for silence, the glittering ruby and sapphire on her fingers flashing dangerously in the light. The younger man’s mouth shut with a quiet click as all eyes turned to the woman. “Focusing on being on the back foot is not going to help us navigate this. It seems most Ostanains didn’t see this coming anyway, based on the silence outside. I’m sure several peace groups will be calling for a ceasefire or humanitarian efforts rather than sending bodies to the war machine. We should prepare for that being the reality here,” his handler announced with a nod. “As of this point, I have received no directives to pull any of you from your current assignments. You three," she turned her glare on the agents that had been waiting with her. "Make your way back to your cover homes. I'll contact you individually if something changes. For now, lay low and focus on your assignments."

The eldest agent nodded, securing his cap atop his head before guiding the rookie out, his lips twitching under his mustache. Interestingly he gave no snark or word of departure, but Twilight had no time to think on that. Nightfall lingered for a moment longer but Twilight merely ignored her. The static from earlier was still thick in his head and he was too tired to try and parse whatever was bothering his protege. He just wanted to go back to the Forger residence and figure out as many contingencies as possible.

A few more ticks of the clock and he was alone with Handler. Her gray-blue eyes narrowed on Twilight. “How is Loid's wife taking the announcement?”

Twilight took a second to take his hat off, giving him precious seconds to determine the best answer. “She’s… processing,” He finally decided, feeling it both adequately and inadequately described Yor's reaction earlier. “According to her, early this morning the list was brought to City Hall for the purpose of gathering prevalent information. Apparently, the names of her brother and husband were on that list.”

Sylvia's eyes narrowed to slits as she considered those details. “If they are calling for men outside the usual age ranges of a draft, either their numbers are critically low or they are trying to put as many men to the war front as quickly as possible,” Handler sighed, sinking down into a chair. “Ones that already know how to fight or have unique skills. Remind me again of Loid Forger’s military background.”

It took a fraction of a second for him to recall that particular portion of his cover’s history. “Loid Forger served in the Westali-Ostanian conflict as a young man. First as a foot soldier before apprenticing as a medic under one of the army doctors. It’s what drove him to go to medical school after the war."

"Ah. They will probably reassign you to the medical division," she sighed, removing her glasses from her eyes and rubbing them gently. "It probably doesn't matter that Forger has a child since his wife will be responsible for her. And you are in good physical and mental health, so there's no way to wiggle free from the draft in that direction. Direct draft dodging would certainly land you in the SSS watch list. Ugh this is such a mess. Since Strix is primarily being shouldered by Anya, you not being directly here for some time may not impact much…or it could impact everything. Children are hard to predict, especially in times of flux. But…"

Twilight waited a full count of ten before inquiring. "But?"

"Having you out on the field may help provide us with information. Considering how caught off guard we were, any scrap of information would be helpful," She tapped her chin in thought. "The only semi reliable method of communication would be via the post, which would be checked for potential espionage. A new code would need to be developed since most of the current ones are known to the SSS, as far as we are aware."

"It would be risky," Almost too risky. If he wasn't careful, it was a certainty that things could go sideways for Yor and Anya. Even if Yuri could in theory still help them...

"We'll weigh the risks once we confirm where they will be sending you," she stated, rubbing her temples. "This is a mess. For now, keep your head down. All other missions are suspended for you until we find out more information. We'll meet at the dog park next Thursday before Anya gets off school."

"Ma'am," Twilight acknowledged, putting his hat back firmly on his head and spinning on his heel to go.

"And make sure you reassure that wife of yours," Handler called after him. "She's not unfamiliar with the concept of death during wartime and the responsibility of Anya will fall solely on her. She needs to be confident to believe that Loid Forger will return home in order to keep your daughter motivated in school."

"I didn't…don't know what to do…"

Yor's weeping voice invaded his mind and he barely kept himself composed and walking. "I will," he lied, because deep, deep down, Twilight had not a single clue what he could say or do to reassure the woman who agreed to marry him.

If the local bakery the Forgers frequented wasn't closed at this hour, Twilight would have picked up an apple tart and a slice of caramel nut cake as he made the steady journey back to Park Avenue. The desserts had yet to fail bringing a smile to the Forger girls' faces and deep, deep down he knew those smiles would be hard to find again in the morning. But that would be a challenge Loid would have to face at that time. One he would rise to and do his best to…

To what?

Within the mess that was his mind, the spy had yet to figure something, anything, that he could do or say in response to the expressions of grief that ultimately awaited for him within the confines of the Forger home. What would a real husband and father do? Was it even in his right to pretend to be such in this situation? Or rather, how would a roommate respond to Yor's anxieties, seeing as that best aligned with their arrangement? And what of Anya? How does one properly comfort a child in this situation - parent or not? If only the library was open! He would have gathered more research material!

Not to mention the to do list that simultaneously formed in his mind of other duties that required his attention: documents to handle, safe areas to prepare, gear to store, an additional list of things to discuss with Franky in the morning, figuring who would see and handle his patients while he was gone, and on and on...

And the longer he thought, the more exhausted he became. While weariness was not an unusual companion for him, this time settled into his body so heavily that his feet dragged along the stairs. All he wanted was a shower, get a little bit of rest before diving into preparations for every contingency he could think up.

But as he stood before the door of the Forger's apartment, Twilight began to wonder what good any of it would do. Storing his gear wouldn't reassure Yor that he was coming back. Making contingencies and plans (even if the girls never saw them) wouldn't create confidence, rather it may induce more panic. He could practically see it with his mind's eye, the apartment stifling in tension, Yor slinking off to her room every chance she got, Anya crying either about her mother or clinging to him begging him not to abandon her. Bond would no doubt be effected by all of this too. Three pairs of eyes swam just behind his eyes - ruby red, emerald green, and deep onyx all teary and mournful.

What could he possibly do to reassure them? It's just a suspicion at this point, but would telling Yor that they'd probably assign Loid as a medic or field doctor help console her? Granted, it probably would be best to wait until summons and assignments are given. Would she -

When he finally opened the door, he discovered it was quiet and dim within the apartment. Judging by the nightlight in the hallway, Twilight could only assume that Yor had turned it on sometime between his leaving and her heading to bed, a detail that only made the pit in his stomach tighten. Taking a quick peek into the living room, his eyes swept over the couch - just to be sure she hadn’t fallen asleep there - and was mildly relieved to find it empty. The tap-tap of Bond's claws made their way towards the door and he greeted the master of the house tiredly. A few ear scratches was enough to reassure the dog all was well for the moment before lumbering his way back to Anya's room without complaint.

If only others could be reassured as easily. Twilight thought wearily. Even if Handler had urged him to reassure Yor, what about Anya? Surely she wouldn't be initially okay with him being gone for at least several months. Though if her mother was confident that her father would return perhaps…

Turning back to the door, he placed his hat and coat on the rack and ensured the door was locked. Some rest would help his mind figure something out. A soft sound, something between a groan and a sigh, escaped his lips as he made his way to his room, the dim golden light of the nightlight casting delicate light around him and into his space.

Only he wasn't alone there.

In the dimness, he could make out a figure curled up on his dark bedding, one that only takes him a fraction of a second to identify. Midnight black hair spread out behind her like a pool of ink, curled up on her side in the middle of his bed, donned in her usual pale nightgown…but a blue sweater pulled atop it.

If he was a better spy, he would have panicked at the sight. His space had been compromised, she had snuck into his room while he was away, leaving him exposed and in a precarious situation. A better spy would have immediately removed her, maybe killed her. She had made herself a liability, a risk to his wellbeing.

But it was clear he had lost whatever edge he thought he had.

Even at this distance, in the dimness, he could see the moisture on his wife's cheeks, which causes something fragile within him breaks. He was a fool if he couldn't see that she had clearly come here for comfort, not to expose or find something incriminating. The rest of the room proved that. Nothing was amiss and it appeared as if she had simply taken the sweater from it's hanger in the closet (that he recalled accidentally leaving open in his rush out the door), slipped it on her shoulders, and then collapsed on his bed. The door to the closet was only open enough for her to have seen the sweater and nothing else. He doubted she would have noticed anything else if the tear tracks on her face were an indication of her emotional and mental state.

It only made sense that she would find her way into his room. Of course she had. What wife wouldn't after receiving such news?

And what kind of husband would he be if he denied her this solace? This place of refuge as her world came crashing down around her once more?

That bone deep weariness settled heavily around his neck like a millstone, his posture drooping further than he would like. It was almost like admitting defeat, watching her lay there as her breathing filling the only space where Agent Twilight could shed Loid Forger. Yet he could not summon the will nor the strength to lift her into his arms and carry her to her own bed. Instead, he placed his briefcase quietly down by his dresser and walked towards her. The bed shifted as he sat down on the mattress, inciting a hiccup in her breathing. She stirred pitifully, a small remnant of a sob escaping her lips before she buried her face deeper into Loid’s sweater.

What’s the play here, Tasogare? He asked himself, blue eyes adjusting to the darkness but remaining on the sleeping figure.

I don’t know.

Dawn found her surrounded by warmth. A soft warmth that could only come from a warm blanket and a warm body.

Yor had awoken many times like this in her childhood, her brother nestled in her arms after a rainstorm or as he recovered from illness. It was soothing but different this time. The scent of strawberry was heavy in her nose, one that she could immediately identify as Anya’s shampoo. But there was another smell nearby and prominent enough for her to identify some components: a mix of coffee, cedar, and something faintly sterile.

Her sleepy mind couldn’t quite place it.

“HaHa…” A soft voice groaned from between her arms, a small head nuzzling her chest. “Don wanna get up…”

Yor couldn’t help the small laugh that burst from her chest. It hurt a little, her throat ached and her eyes felt so dry even behind closed lids. Did something happen? Why was Anya in my bed?

A soft knock forced her to open her eyes, then blink at the surroundings. This wasn’t her room…it was -

“Yor? Anya?” Loid’s voice softly called and Yor bolted upright in alarm. “It’s time to get up. Breakfast is ready.”

Blinking rapidly around the room, Yor finally figured where she was. Loid’s room. But how? Why? Frowning, she stared at the blanket that pooled at her waist. She was thankful to find herself still clothed, but also startled to see Loid’s blue button down sweater on her torso. Anya continued to sleep at her side, snoring as her arm flung widely into the space opposite her mother, mumbling something she couldn’t quite hear.

What happened the night before? The last thing she could remember was Loid getting a call from the hospital and…

Oh. Right.

The draft announcement.

Curling in on herself, Yor made her way to the edge of the bed and pulled off Loid’s sweater. She must have been in some kind of overly emotional state after Loid had left or perhaps had fallen asleep and sleep walked into his room. Either way, she would need to apologize. Who was she to wear his clothing? Who was she to take his bed?

Hadn't she promised herself she wouldn't wear Loid's cardigan ever again?

Anya must have found her while looking for her father and sought some solace with her, which was a bittersweet thought. Another thing to add to the apology. Her hands shook as she folded the garment and placed it gently on the bed, as if disturbing the sheets in any way other than straightening them would reign down some justified wrath upon her, before scooping the child into her arms. With one arm she managed to make the bed as neatly as possible, though internally promised to make things right by washing the sheets, blanket, and sweater. Remove her presence from the fabric. Return order where it belonged.

Feeling more exhausted than she should this early in the morning, Yor made her way to the door and -

Loid stood there in the hallway.

It was almost like déjà vu. Being caught off guard in the hallway, clutching something (rather someone this time, but semantics) to her chest, her mind in a state of flux… It was an uncomfortable replay of a memory. Shaking her head slightly, Yor did her best to give some kind of warm smile to her husband, shifting Anya’s sleeping form so the girl rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. She wasn’t sure if she accomplished the smiling part. “Good morning, Loid-san,” She greeted, her voice rough. “I…um…”

“It’s alright,” Loid cut her off, his tone and eyes impossibly gentle. “I just hope the bed was comfortable. Did you sleep well?”

For a long second, she wasn’t sure if she should answer that politely or honestly. She had slept, that was true, but it was hardly restful. Fitful at best, mere exhaustion forcing her body to shut down at worst. And in the end, the words caught in her throat, the memories from the night before rising to the forefront and probably playing along her face. For several seconds, Yor just stood there, red eyes swimming in an odd mixture of the present and past, trying to find something solid, something reasonable to either say or do. With a hiccupped breath, an alternative subject came to mind. Clearing her throat, she turned her attention to the sleeping child in her arms. “Anya-san,” She croaked. “It’s time to wake up. Your papa made a delicious breakfast.”

Yor could smell the meal down the hallway and it made her stomach churn. She honestly wasn’t sure if she could eat anything in her current state…but it would be rude and a waste of food. She never did like wasting food. Especially since there was so little to go around during -

The little girl grumbled. “HaHa… pwease no thinking so hard…”

The statement didn’t make a lot of sense, but an apology tumbled from the woman’s lips nonetheless. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Shall we wash our faces?”

Anya grumbled, but it was more akin to her usual morning grumbles about getting up so early. A pained smile pinched Yor’s cheeks at that. At least something was still normal.

Without looking at her husband, she turned towards the bathroom. “We’ll be out in a few minutes, Loid-san.”

The door clicked shut without another word.

Chapter Text

The rest of the morning was…odd to Anya. While the outward silence was unnerving, the static in her parents' mind's made focusing on any particular task impossible. Eating was a struggle, dressing was a challenge, and she nearly tripped while putting on her shoes.

Bond was of no help. His powers seemed to be on the fritz as all that was held in his mind was static. He followed everyone with his eyes, but kept away, his tail tucked down. Occasionally he would whine but she was never fast enough to catch what was going through his head at that moment…unless he was somehow masking her ability to read his thoughts. Which…was probably not the case.

Her father kept thinking at the speed of light. While that wasn’t unusual for him, the verbal silence that crept from his corner of the room was deafening, making it difficult for the girl to understand even the barest of ideas of what was going on. Just yesterday, her father would engage in conversation regarding little things - school, HaHa's work, what would they like to have for dinner, and other small topics. Bond would paw or beg at his side of the table and Twilight would either indulge him (secretly and only once) or give a firm but gentle word of scolding.

And her mother… well her mind was curiously blank. There was no image of blood or killing or even something nice like thinking about how cute Anya was or about something warm like her soup within her mind. Instead it was just an empty quiet, pure unnerving silence. If Anya hadn't been looking right at her mother, she would have thought the woman was asleep. There was a faraway look in her eyes, staring more at walls than at people. Her movements were robotic, practiced but carried no life in them. Occasionally, the lifelessness would break when a soft word or phrase echoed in her mother's head. Words like "Yuri", "Loid", "Anya", "be strong", "be normal", "will come home", "be brave", small bursts of life that Anya could pick up on, but it was like shouting in an ocean, barely perceptible, barely heard.

None of it made sense and that terrified the girl. Did HaHa get hurt? Why is she so quiet? Why was she in ChiChi's bed? Is she sick? Angry? Sad? Did someone make her sad?!

Panic seeped into her veins. If her mother was so upset and her father so quiet, did that mean they had a fight? Was the Forger family breaking up?! Were they abandoning Anya!?

"HaHa!" The girl cried as Yor helped straighten her coat with cold fingers, green eyes filling with sudden tears.

Yor blinked, as if coming from a deep slumber, her eyes shifting from dull to reflecting light. Her ruby eyes swam with tears, Anya could see them now as they stood by the door. Her painted lips wobbled, her fingers shook only to suddenly stop as she swallowed hard and knelt down beside the girl. "Yes, dear?" She inquired, voice soft, barely audible.

"Why so sad, HaHa?" Anya asked, panic creeping into her voice. "Don't go! Pwease don't leave Anya!"

The tears began again in her mother's eyes as she leaned forward and drew Anya into the shelter of her arms. "There there," she sobbed, patting the back of the girl’s head in her usual soft manner. "I'll never leave you, Anya-san. I-I'll always be here for you f-for as long as you want me."

"I'm not the one being made to go…" the thought clearly echoed through her mother's mind, the clearest thought she had had since they awoke this morning.

"I'll need to find a way to break it to her." Her father's inner voice echoes in her mind. The thought was so quick that it almost felt like it was in response to her mother’s inner thought.

Which was impossible. Twilight couldn’t read minds…right?

Anya didn't quite pull out of her mother's arms at that. Instead she turned her head to lock her green eyes on her father.

And Twilight just…stood there. Dressed for work with his coat and hat already on, his usual briefcase in his hand…but the static in his mind had eased. She could read his thoughts a little clearer as his blue eyes focused on the girls by the doorway.

"Should wait for the draft letter… need to find the right words to say… I'll speak to the child psychologist at the hospital, maybe they have… she'll be safe with Yor… ensure Strix continues as planned…"

It's all jumbled and she couldn’t understand anything, but whatever is troubling her parents is not good. "ChiChi!" She whimpered, pulling one hand out of her mother's embrace and reaching longingly for her father, the most pitiful expression on her face. "Hug! Pwease!"

Both of her parents froze at that for several seconds but Anya doesn't let them refuse this. Something was very wrong and it was scaring her parents, scaring her! Hugs will help, right? They have to!

Shifting a bit, Anya seized Yor's hand and half dragged her to Twilight. The spy's eyes snapped open wider as they crossed the space and he was in motion. The three meet in the middle -

Anya hadn't noticed she was falling until her father's gloved hands scooped her up into his embrace, hadn't noticed how unsteady her mother was until her father whispered, "I've got you. I've got you," into the space between Yor and Anya's heads, his warm arms holding both of them close.

For a moment, everything was calm, peaceful, warm.

Until her mother's sob shattered everything.

Anya couldn’t remember the last time she saw an adult really and painfully cry. The people at the lab were always so composed, stoic, in control. Maybe there had been a time when she moved from home to home, orphanage to orphanage before becoming a Forger, but all of those families had been so short lived that it was hard to remember. And kids cry all the time, no matter how much Second Son protested.

Well, she had seen Scruffy and Unkie Yuri tear up and her mother had sniffled a few times - like when she destroyed the groceries while saving Anya from kidnappers or when her father's spy coworker had been mean to her, but this was different. Scruffy cried as if a river flowed down his face and his lips barely quivered. Unkie Yuri’s tears were often of joy when speaking with her mother.

But Anya wasn't sure what scared her more: the mournful sound coming from her mother's lips or that her mother retreated from Twilight's arms just as fast.

With a hand pressed harshly to her mouth, Yor scrambled away, her breath uneasy and red eyes watery and wide. Twilight's arm was still outstretched, fingers reaching for the woman that had pulled away.

“I'm sorry,” her mother whimpered, tears pouring from her eyes even if her thoughts screamed for her to stop. Her breath and shoulders hitched over and over as restrained sobs echoed in the room. “It-it's not my place and-”

Twilight managed to snag her wrist, the fingers of his free hand curling to hold Yor as his mind screamed “No no no no no! Don't cry! What should I do? I can't-”

But Yor tried to pull away, her feet still retreating back, back towards the door. Away from Anya, away from Loid. Anguish was written all over her face and it hurt to look at her.

Twilight may not be as strong as her mother, but he's fast enough. While still holding Anya close to his shoulder, he maneuvered in the hallway to bring Yor away from the door without bringing them too close together. He didn't want to trap her, but “I can't let her go out there like this. Fix this, Tasogare!” rings in his head so loud it almost made Anya flinch.

“Yor,” the name came out fragile in his voice, as if he was blowing a bubble that could break at any second. A bubble of air to help save them from drowning or shatter everything. “It is your place. Feeling upset is warranted, especially after seeing Yuri's name on the list.”

Unkie? List? Anya's fingers tightened on her father's jacket, but she didn't voice her questions. Nothing was making sense but if something happened with Uncle Yuri then of course her mother would be upset.

He let go of Yor's hand before reaching into a pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, he dabbed under her eyes to erase the tears, though the blotchy red doesn't go away as easily. It doesn't look like a blush and their thoughts are too staticy for this to be an icha-icha moment - not that Anya could consider that at a time like this.

“Being devastated about this is natural, Yor. No one…no one saw this coming.” The spy swallowed thickly, as if considering his words very carefully. “Let's invite Yuri over for dinner tonight. That way you can spend as much time with him as you want. I'll pick up some groceries on my way home from work and he can stay for as long as he wants.”

There's something that isn't said at the end of that statement, but her parents don't bring attention to it, not even in their minds. Slowly, her mother's sniffles ease and she takes the offered handkerchief to blow her nose. She doesn't give it back, her fingers white from holding the fabric very tight.

“O-okay. Thank you, L-loid.”

Since Handler had ensured that he would have no extra missions until things with the draft and Strix could be addressed, Twilight found himself snuggly in the skin of Dr. Loid Forger for the day. On one hand, this meant that the day was less stressful in that he wouldn’t have a late shift and have to scramble to get home in time to beat Yuri there, but on the other it meant listening to Dr. Forger’s patients voice their worries about the draft announcement.

Their fears of change, the concerns of fathers leaving behind children, the mothers and sisters weeping over sons and brothers, wives shaken to the core panicked on how to provide while their husbands were away, and on and on. He could only be thankful that he wasn't a pediatric psychiatrist, as he was sure seeing children in such states would have broken him.

How was he expected to offer comfort to his own patients when he struggled to find the right words to console his own wife and daughter?

He managed, somehow. Mostly through the comfort of distance. He didn't live with these patients, wasn't in their lives every day, and could thus encourage healthy coping techniques: communication, breathing techniques, writing things out in journals or letters to their loved ones, etc.

But it was exhausting and felt slightly hypocritical. Offering advice when he could barely do that himself at home.

And then there were his own worries that would creep into his mind with every patient he saw. Not just the ones related to Yor and Anya, which dominated his thoughts in the quiet moments, but also ones like needing to ensure that all of his - Dr. Forger’s - patients would be transferred to a trustworthy specialist when the summons finally arrived.

On top of it all, Nightfall was hovering over him nearly the entire day. Either she was at his side discussing details of patient care or he could feel her eyes on him as he talked with patients. She insisted they eat lunch together, not giving him the chance to mention that he really wanted to bring Yor some lunch as he as sure his wife may not be up to eating today.

That last fact was the one that ended up fraying his last nerve.

“What is it, Fiona-kun?” He found the words coated with perhaps a little too much irritation than he would have liked to display, but it was almost the end of the day and he had a whole list of things he needed to do and prepare for that evening and hadn't had more than two minutes to himself since he entered the hospital that morning.

He sat at Dr. Forger’s desk, going through (real) patient files and sorting them into four neat piles - ones that had the potential of being summoned by the draft and thus would need to stall or stop care for the time being, ones who could be transferred to other psychiatrists, ones that would need further discussion, and ones that would need to be handled delicately. It was mind numbing in a way, but critical.

Even if the notice wasn’t in his mailbox yet, it would be best for Dr. Forger to be prepared for the summons.

Closing and setting down one of the heavier files into his “handle delicately” pile, Twilight turned his gaze up to the silent agent standing before him. Her gaze was half hidden by her silvery hair but her expression was as flat as usual, not emoting even when necessary, nothing to give away in her cold eyes.

Cold as her cover name.

Sometimes that was unnerving, other times aggravating. Of all the things he had instructed her on, this was the one thing she tended to over do, especially when a slightly softer face would help sell whatever act she needed to blend into.

When the silence stretched uncomfortably long, Twilight leaned back in the desk chair, eyes narrowed. “Spit it out,” he whispered irritatedly, done with playing games.

“Are you going to just let them send you to war?” The woman asked, her tone as emotionless and detached as always. Though, curiously, there was the faintest hint of anger there, simmering under the surface.

“I go where I'm told,” he answered calmly. “It's already been discussed with immediately necessary parties, so I would recommend you stick to th-”

Nightfall's hands came down on the desk with a bit of force. Not enough to break anything, but certainly enough to knock over a knickknack Anya had given him some time ago. The small clay statue that was a slightly distorted version of Bond which the girl had made for him clattered but fortunately didn't shatter as he scooped it up quickly and set it to rights. Either his protege didn't notice the quick movement or didn't care, leaning over his desk so her lavender eye could level him with a hard gaze.

“Strix is much too important for it to be unmanned,” she mouthed, not risking covering the conversation with a false one. Her hair covered her lips from the side, preventing any passerby from seeing what she might be whispering.

Twilight, out of pure professionalism, pushed himself away, maintaining the distance a Doctor should have with his assistant. “While that may be the case,” he answered with eyes narrowed to slits. “You are not my superior. This has been discussed. All that is required of you, Frost-san, is to see that our patients received the proper care in the interim.”

“Of course, senpai, all patients will be given the priority you dictate. Starting with these,” she voiced, gesturing towards a heavy pile of charts, but her mouth gave a different message.

“Then leave the training of the girl to me. I'll ensure she is a scholar by the time you return.”

The fractions of a second seemed to slow as the words processed in his mind and with the realization of what she was getting at settled in, his whole body went cold. His blood iced over in his veins. A cold shock ran down his spine. He could feel himself reacting rather than thinking, his eyes narrowed to slits, fists bunched - one gripping his desk so tight he was sure that it would leave marks in the wood - and his teeth pressed hard together. Vaguely, he could feel the rational part of him yelling in the back of his head but he was too angry to hear it. Rage, icy cold, filled his mind. With it echoed a single thought.

Of course. Of fucking course.

Maybe a better spy would have seen the benefit of such a proposal. If it had been one of the older spies or (especially) Franky who made such a request, he wouldn't have to think twice about it.

But this was Nightfall. Protege of his she had been but she had a reckless ambition streak, one that he had failed to train out of her. He knew of the whisperers and had witnessed first hand. A desire to prove herself (though to whom and for why he couldn’t fathom) that had nearly torn his mission to shreds within days of her appearing at the Forger’s doorstep. There were reasons miles long why agents didn’t interfere with covers. There were reasons why agents were told to stay as far away from each other as possible in the day to day (though how on earth Nightfall managed to get a position as Dr. Forger’s assistant, Twilight would never know).

And she broke them. Recklessly. With no regard for his or her safety. With no regard for Yor or Anya’s safety.

Yet here she was again, butting into his mission, his family all for the sake of proving herself for whatever glorified reason she had hiding behind those icy lavender eyes.

Why the hell would he ever consider leaving someone as precious as Anya in her care?

“I need to finish sorting these files,” He finally said, barely restraining a growl. “Please shut the door behind you, Frost-san.”

“This conversation is finished. Leave. Now.”

“Tw- Doctor, don-”

“The door.” Twilight never really let Loid Forger get angry, but right now it was barely possible for him to keep the rage within himself. It burned it was so cold. But it was justified. This was his mission, his daughter, his responsibility. Not hers. Not when she was so reckless. Not when the thought of leaving Anya with her made everything within him scream.

Not when it meant taking Anya from Yor.

Nightfall continued to stare at him for a long moment before slowly, gracefully, straightening and taking her hand off his desk. “Very well, Doctor.”

The door all but slammed behind her.

The rage burned and hissed just under his skin as he did his best to take calming breaths. His fingers twitched in a suppressed motion to grab the nearest object (a stapler) and hurl it at the wall. To watch it shatter beneath the force.

But he couldn’t do that. Couldn’t afford to do so. Dr. Loid Forger wasn’t one to let his anger show. Wasn’t one to give into bouts of throwing things, of growling, of screaming.

He needed to get out of there. Everything felt too close, too cold it burned, too stifling.

His feet were in motion before he finished the thought, grabbing his briefcase, coat and hat before opening the door and striding out. Twilight had the presence of mind to shut off the light and lock the door. He’d tend to the rest of the files when he wasn’t burning from rage, when his stomach wasn't’ threatening to revolt.

Dr. Forger did his best to give a reassuring look to anyone he passed by on his way out of the hospital. He stopped by Dr. Gorey’s office, giving a vague - but slightly honest - excuse that he wasn’t feeling well and promised he would be in early the following day to catch up on any additional paperwork. Gorey, after having seen Dr. Forger in a better light in recent weeks, reassured that it was fine, asked if there was anything he could help with, and finally sent him on his way with well wishes.

Twilight didn’t waste any time from there, his feet carrying him quickly from the hospital grounds, away from the feeling seeping in around him, suffocating and heavy. He burst from the door and hurriedly made his way down the stairs to the road below. Sucking in a deep, icy breath, that feeling that constrained his chest finally released, bringing him back to the moment long enough to figure out a plan.

He needed to talk to Handler about this. Needed to figure out just what to do about the junior agent. But he was too close, the rage still simmering under his skin as the cold winter air filled his screaming lungs.

Something else. He had to do something else.

Groceries! Right. He needed to get groceries for that evening. Yeah. That would work.

If he happened to swing by City Hall after picking up a warm sandwich and a cup of hot chocolate from a local stand, that was no one's business.

“Nee-san!!!”

The half cry, half squeal of her little brother echoed throughout the apartment as Yuri burst through the door with his usual exuberance. For the first time in a while, the young man didn’t have any visible bandages and looked well (his hair even looked like it had been washed recently!). Yor watched him bound over, his happy expression, his joyful tone, and nearly crumbled under the weight of the agony that the sight filled her with.

Yor could barely keep a smile on her face as he neared, was barely restraining tears…though she needed to say something. Needed to hug him, do something.

But she couldn’t. All she could think was, “Will I ever get to see him like this again? Will he come back in one piece? Will he come back alive?”

The last thought almost caused her to sway on her feet, but she momentarily locked her knees, just for a count of five, to steady the motion and pressed her nails into the flesh of her opisthenar. The small jolt of pain was enough to get her back to the present, to stop the spiral before it began. Yuri had only just come in the door. Now was not the time to break down.

She could do that later, after they ate their fill of stew and Anya had been put to bed.

“Yuri,” She cooed, though her voice sounded odd to her ears, even through her smile. “You’re just in time! Mom’s stew just finished cooking. Shall we eat?”

With some cheers that were quickly diminished to slight groans when Yuri saw her husband and daughter also at the table, the Briar siblings sat down. Yor couldn’t help the small swell of gratitude at her husband as he began dividing out portions of the stew, a gratitude that stung like poison when (after several minutes) she saw that her brother wasn’t eating it.

Lowering her spoon to the table, she felt that ugly feeling start to invade her chest once more. She could see the tightness in her brother’s eyes as he stared at the meat and vegetables she had prepared. Was he not feeling well? Not hungry? Did she rush him to the table without considering that he might not be up for food at this time since -

“HaHa!” Anya wiggled in delight as she slurped some of the broth, a bit of it clinging to her cheek. Loid reached over and attempted to attack the spot with a napkin before she could say anything else, but he was unsuccessful. “Grandma’s stewe is so yummy! Thank for putting so much love into it when you made it!”

Almost immediately, there was a change in her brother. So fast she didn’t think it possible, the young man lifted the bowl to his lips and downed the contents within seconds (including a rather large piece of potato, whole fried egg, and several small sausages).

“Yuri!” She yelped, afraid her brother would choke on the food as he lunged for the ladle and served himself another bowl. “Slow down! You'll choke!”

The bowl halted in its second journey to his lips and Yuri lowered it to the table, head drooping in chastisement, before he picked up the spoon and ate at a more reasonable speed. “I'm sorry, Nee-san!” He cried. “I just wasn't very hungry when I walked in and it took me a minute to realize what we were eating. I guess work must have taken more out of me today than I realized.”

That sounded like a lie, one she should just buy outright and spare her brother's embarrassment.

But she had already seen what he'd done when she brought food Loid made for him once prior. Already knew that her brother and husband didn't get along. Already knew that Yuri hated Loid…

So she turned back to her bowl, staring at the bobbing food within the reddish broth. “It's alright,” she whispered in reply, forcing herself to pick up her spoon and take a bite. Smelled so good, just like she remembered her mother making it. It still reminds her of the first time she made it for Loid and Anya and their wonderful smiles at the food she prepared. She wanted desperately to sink into those memories, to let herself be warm and happy once more, even for a few minutes.

But the specter of war hovered behind her, the memories filled with stamps along the men's faces in that all too damnable type: Yuri Briar and Loid Forger on the list of men to be drafted.

Yor didn't realize her fingers were shaking until a large, warm hand wrapped around it and helped guide the spoon to her lips. She stares at the hand before looking up at the person on the other end.

The tip of Loid's ear was pink but his expression is gentle and understanding. “Careful, Yor,” he cautioned softly. “It's rather hot.”

Had she been less upset, she may have had the decency to look embarrassed and pull her fingers from his grasp, eating normally as she should. But for a fraction of a second, she just stared at him before allowing herself to take a sip of the broth he offered.

It tasted like ash in her mouth.

But she forced herself to eat it, even as her husband moved closer to her, taking the spoon from her trembling fingers and wordlessly began feed her. As if she was a child too weary or sad to eat on their own.

Just out of her periphery, Yor could feel Yuri's eyes on them and only assume he's scowling, mouth opening ready to chew Loid out for some perceived slight or demand if the blonde had hurt his sister in some way.

Anya burped softly from her side of the table before turning to her father. “ChiChi, may I go watch Bondman?” she pleaded, holding out her bowl to show she was done.

Loid turned a narrowed eye towards his daughter. “If you carefully put your bowl and spoon in the sink, then yes. But we will need to review your fractions after the next episode ends.”

“Oui!” The girl answered with a salute and made her way as instructed.

“Try to eat a few more bites and then we'll talk,” said encouraging as he turned back to Yor, holding up a freshly filled spoon to her lips.

She can only manage five more bites of the ashen stew. Her stomach roiled but Loid is understanding, setting the bowl down to the side before taking her hand in his and turning to Yuri.

“Thank you for coming over on such short notice, Yuri,” her husband began before looking again at Yor. Before her brother's arrival he had asked if she wanted him there when she talked to Yuri and she still very much did.

She swallowed thickly, hoping she could get the words out.

“Yuri,” she turned a bit to address her brother, finally meeting his rapidly narrowing red eyes. “W-we got the list at work before the announcement yesterday and…” her grip on Loid's hand tightened, though she told herself not to hurt him. “Your name is on the draft list and…and…”

Yuri blinked at that, his eyes going from narrow to wide to normal in a matter of seconds. His face finally rests on a rather calm expression, reassurance with a touch of something that looked like guilt. “Ah… I guessed as much,” he answered almost sheepishly. “Though, because I work for the Foreign ministry, it's very likely they will put me in a liaison role. I'll be safe, Yor. Please don't worry.”

A horrible, painful sniffle echoed through her chest and throughout the room.

She should feel relieved at that, right? The knowledge that it was very likely that her brother would be safe in the coming conflict should reassure her and fill her with comfort. But for some reason…she felt worse. Was her worry for nought? Was he telling her the truth? How could he be so certain? If they were calling for Loid, a man who had already finished his time in the previous war, to the front, how on earth could Yuri be so…so cavalier about this?

Did he already know? Was he hiding something from her?

With a violent shake of her head, Yor pulled away from her husband and brother, leapt to her feet and sprinted to her room. The door shook as she slammed it shut and put her weight against it to keep it closed.

For once, she was grateful that Loid had chosen her room as the “loving couple's” room, if only that she didn't immediately blow their cover by running into the wrong room. Even if the gaudy pink YES comforter and pillows stared up at her mockingly, hinting of intimacy that never and would never exist. Even if the space felt familiar and not simultaneously. Even if the space felt like it was closing in on her as she slid down the door and buried her face in her knees.

She was overreacting. Being irrational, a small voice that sounded cruel and haughty reverberated in her mind. Weak. Like prey. Worrying, panicking over things you cannot change.

“Get a grip,” she whispered between uncontrolled sobs, fists so tight her fingernails were digging into the soft calluses of her palm surely to leave marks if not draw blood. “Stop crying! Stop!”

But the tears didn't abait. Why? Why couldn't they just-

Bang! “Nee-san!” Yuri yelled, the door shaking under the force of his frantic knocks. “Nee-san! Please open the door!”

Even if she had wanted too, Yor felt like her limbs were made of lead or encased in concrete. There was no way she could answer her brother’s call, her voice swallowed up by sobs and incessant tears.

But…as quickly as the knocking began, it stopped.

“Yuri,” A firm, masculine voice barely crept through the door. She could barely hear it above her sobs, but the tone demanded attention, it would be heard regardless of her brother’s antics. “Enough. Let her have some space.”

“Don’t touch me!” Yuri growled in response. “She’s my sister and -”

“And your sister needs space,” Loid cut him off.

Yor felt her breath still momentarily in her lungs. Was she going to need to get up and stop a fight from breaking out? Would it really come to this? A time where she would be forced to choose between her brother and her husband?

“Yor has been through a lot, Yuri, as I’m sure you know,” Loid continued, his tone softening. “I’ve never met anyone with the amount of fortitude she has, the strength to endure everything that’s come her way in life. But she needs this moment of respite.”

There’s tension for several heartbeats before she can hear her husband again.

“Even the strongest have their breaking point,” He continues, softly, gently. “I know you meant to reassure her and I thought that would reassure her too, but sometimes it doesn’t work out that way. Sometimes it’s too much. You both lost your parents as kids and it was incredibly noble of her to take up that role to ensure you were well cared for. The war was not kind to either of you and…” Loid cleared his throat, as if unsure of his next statement before continuing. “Yor needs time to adjust to this new reality, Yuri. You didn’t do anything wrong and neither did she. Let’s…just please give her a moment, an hour, a day, however long we have for her to come to terms with this new change.”

The silence is practically deafening for several moments. Her chest aches in her restraint against another sob, not wanting to shatter this moment before hearing what Yuri had to say. If her brother burst into her room, she’d have to pull herself together and move on. Like she always had. Because Yuri always came first and she couldn’t bear to let that change anytime soon.

But if he gave her a moment, a chance to breathe and be still for several seconds…

“Alright.” Yuri finally said, his voice hard. “But I’m staying here until she does.”

“Very well.”

The bed dipped, startling Yor awake, fingers tightening into fists as she sat upright to confront the intruder -

“Yor,” A male voice whispered in the darkness. “It’s just me.”

Loid! The strange relief that came with the knowledge of who was there drained the fight from her almost too quickly. Fingers unfurled, body flopped back onto the pillow as if she was suddenly boneless. “Sorry,” she croaked, her throat still raw from crying.

Before she suddenly froze. “Wait…w-wh-”

“I had Yuri take my room,” Loid whispered, the weight on the bed lifting. In the darkness, she could make out the outline of his figure, an outline only made obvious by the door to the hallway being open and the nightlight flooding the space with dim yellow light. “I was just coming to check on you and get a blanket. I’ll take the couch and will be up well in advance of your brother.”

The couch? But… “There’s plenty of space, Loid-san,” she heard her voice say without any conscious consideration of what she was saying. “You…you don’t have to sleep out there.”

“Yor-”

“Just for a little while?” The words pass pitifully from her lips, like a little child who just awoke from a horrific nightmare and needed comfort. Comfort her mother and father could no longer give. Comfort she had always willingly given to her brother and stepdaughter, even to her husband if he ever asked. Her fingers reached out, pinching the give of the hem of his nightshirt, not daring to touch flesh but needing something, anything to ground her in reality.

To say, to even lie, that things would be okay. If only for that night.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice a breathy whisper rather than his normal quiet voice.

“Yes,” she cried, her voice breaking on the single syllable, a weakness she hated to hear but not one she could take back.

The door to the room clicked quietly shut a second later, plunging the room into darkness, and there was a shuffling of linens before her husband’s body relaxed into the mattress. Then another shift before a warm hand settled on her arm.

“Yor, can…can I hug you?”

In lieu of an answer, Yor found herself snuggled into his chest, tears she thought she had finished shedding rolling down her cheeks once more. Her husband’s large, warm hands pressed into her back, a thumb moving in circles while other fingers ran through her dark hair.

“I’ve got you,” He whispered into the darkness. “I’ve got you.”

Chapter Text

The elevator chimes as it opens, alerting you that it is now safe to exit. The emergency summons had come very early that morning and requested your presence at safe house F as quickly as possible.

Your eyes do a quick search of the office space. Even if this area has been secured, there is no point to being sloppy. Interception of messages has occurred before and even if WISE ran interference on all their channels, who knows how many things have slipped.

The space is almost eerily quiet save for the ticking of a clock. You glance at it to note the time.

10:05. Right on time.

As you step out of the lift, sound finally reaches your ear. To your right is Handler's usual desk, Strix's web of interconnected persons decorating the wall beyond the woman's wide brim hat.

“Good day, or perhaps good evening, Tasogare,” she beckons.

It's just you and her, but it feels like more eyes are on you as you scan the room. It's empty and there are no cameras…but it makes you uneasy.

“Good day, Handler,” you answer calmly, though keep your hat on for the time being. “I saw the emergency summons. How may I assist?”

Handler leans back in her chair, curling a red lock of hair around her finger. It's more a tick than a tell but you can't recall the last time you saw it. The rings flash on her fingers in the light. “I had an interesting conversation with Tobari earlier,” she begins, not looking at you but you do catch the twitch in her lip. “She has put in a formal request to foster Anya Forger while her father is sent to war.”

Your brain stops for a fraction of a second. Those eyes that you can feel but can't see seem to bore into you harder, everything is screaming in alarms yet the world around you is calm. As if the words that came out of your Handler's mouth haven't just rocked the foundation of everything you've worked too damn hard for.

What changed her mind? Why the sudden difference?

“Excuse me,” is all you are able to squeak out with a cough. “What?”

Her gray-blue eyes lift, boring into you as if she's amused. As if talking to a child who doesn't seem to understand. “It's a valid request, one I'm pretty inclined to grant. After all, Loid Forger is Anya's only legal parent. The girl may call her ‘mother’ but that doesn't hold much weight in the legal eye if there's no documentation stating that her stepmother is her next of kin. Especially if something were to happen to her father.”

The floor seems to fall away from under you, even though you can feel it through your shoes. The room is still there, Handler is still there, looking at you mercilessly as the air is sucked out of you at her statements.

“Plus, I'm sure she could help the girl gain Stellas. She's proven herself quite capable since joining you at Berlint hospital.”

Capable? Something within you screams. She nearly compromised Strix!

You need to say something. You need to do something. But your mouth won't move. Your feet feel pinned to the floor.

Eventually you are able to move your mouth. “But that would disrupt her life too much. To be without her father and then taken from her mother-”

“Not a legal guardian, Tasogare,” She cuts you off. “And it would be better for Strix if we handled this internally rather than have the state decide where she goes. Plus can one expect a girl to be cared for properly by a woman who can't cook?”

Ice runs down your spine. “You've…you've already decided?” Your voice is pitched, uncomfortably tight.

“Well, she does give a compelling argument backed up in reality,” her eyes narrow on you. “And you are too compromised to see the benefit of the request. It would only be temporary, Tasogare. Think of it more as her staying perpetually with an aunt rather than be a legal orphan once more.”

There's a sound behind you and you turn to look. Your eyes sweep over a clock - 13:10 it reads - before landing on other details. You aren't in Safe House F anymore, but rather the Forgers home. The sound repeats, a sniffle and you feel your heart ice over.

It's a sound that you hate hearing and have heard too often over the past few days. You finally spot her.

“Please… please don't take her,” your wife weeps on the floor, her long hair pooled like an inkblot over the floor. Bowed over and imploring to another figure.

Nightfall stands, cold, almost smug. Her fingers wrapped around Anya's hand tighter than he was comfortable with. The girl looked…dazed. As if she didn't understand but wasn't willing to fight or had already had the fight drained her.

“It's already been decided,” the female spy states, so cold it practically slices the air. Your wife flinches as if physically harmed by the words. “Legally she is to stay with me.”

Your heart sputters in your chest. Everything in you screams to move, to do something.

But you can't because a gun is in your hand and the whistling of mortars is raining down. Get down! Get away! Go! Go!

Twilight bolted upright, breath heaving as his heart attempted to escape his chest. His ears still rang muffling the sound around him as if a mortar had gone off near him once more, though some logical part of him insisted it was his pulse racing within him.

His eyes took in a contrastingly calm scene around him which only adding fuel to the logical voice. It was fairly dark, but some rather muted light seeped in through the white or pinkish curtains, giving the room a peaceful glow. It was a bedroom, with a woman’s vanity across from the foot of the bed and a large double door closet. A red chair sat in one of the corners and a pair of bedside tables flanked the wood headboard.

And laying beside him, was a dark haired woman.

Yor.

Oh, right. He was Loid Forger, the cover he created for Operation Strix. With that realization, memories rushed back to fill the void left by the nightmare. With a near silent and shuddering breath, the spy ran a hand through his hair. It was slightly damp and he would need to wash it before ensuring Yuri hadn’t been poking around where he shouldn’t be, before Anya woke.

But before he could move, his gaze slid towards the woman beside him.

Yor slept, though her expression hinted that her rest was not nearly as restful as he would have hoped for her. Her cheeks held dried tracks from her eye to her chin and her breath had soft moments where it hiccupped. She lay on her side facing him, hands curled up in front of her as if she had been clutching him when she fell asleep, not daring to move lest… And her lips were pulled into a rather pitiful pout, like a child sleeping after a nightmare. The whole scene made him want to slip back down under the blanket and pull her close to him again, to reassure her somehow that things would be okay.

But he shouldn’t.

Twilight forced himself to take a look at the clock and nearly gaped that it was almost 05:00. Somehow, he had managed to sleep the whole night and that sent chills down his spine.

With practiced, but hurried, ease, Twilight climbed out of the bed and silently made his way out. None of the floorboards creaked and Yor stayed blissfully asleep as he opened the door and made his way out to the hall. After shutting the door behind him, the spy carefully searched the hallway as casually as he could. While he couldn’t be sure that Yuri hadn’t entered Yor’s room the night before, he could check for any stray listening devices or signs of the SSS agent snooping.

As he made it to the living room, he couldn’t help the small relief that came from confirming that no known tactics of the SSS had been utilized in his home. He only allowed the relief because it meant that Anya and Yor would be unobserved.

Refusing to let his guard down, Twilight made his way to the kitchen. His family would need a filling breakfast to face the day.

In years gone by, Yor has always found it easy to forgive her brother. Not that he was a bad kid or did bad things, but if he accidentally did something that made their lives a little difficult (even for a few moments like breaking a plate or using too many trash bags), forgiveness easily rolled from her heart to her tongue.

But this time was different.

It was difficult to feel this way, the pain that consumed her in a way she had never experienced before. The grief, the rage, and ultimately the depression that she experienced in such rapid succession that she barely had time to process the previous emotions.

She couldn't look her brother in the eye. She couldn't look in his direction. Couldn't bear to hear his voice. Couldn't bear to speak his name.

Something in her mind kept telling her that she needed to resolve this. That it wasn't Yuri's fault for what was happening in the world and she shouldn't be punishing him because of how he responded to her worries. That she should trust that he would be fine. That his words were true even if they hurt.

But she couldn't bring herself to do so. It was like she couldn't lift her head, couldn't open her mouth, couldn't form the words. Even internally she couldn't say to herself “I forgive you, Yuri.”

And so she remained silent from the moment she exited her room.

Yuri dogged after her as soon as he saw she was up that morning. As he followed her, his pitiful voice pleading with her that he was sorry, that he hadn't understood her reaction the night before and wanted to make it right.

All she could do was shake her head, hiding behind her long, unbrushed hair.

Before she could simply walk away, Loid slipped quickly between the siblings, likely because he was able to see Yuri's face and knew he would press the issue. While everything sounded muffled around her, Yor could hear her husband advised Yuri that his sister wanted more time and to give it to her. His voice was calm yet firm, the bulk of his frame feeling like a steady rock against a rising tide. Like he wouldn't let her drown. That he would protect her, even from her brother if need be.

Yuri took that as well as an angry drunk being told to leave a bar. He growled and snapped at her husband. "Does she really need time, Lottie? Or is it just you that thinks so? You just keep getting in the way! Going on and on about your psychological nonsense! I'm trying to make things right and here you are just letting her wallow in misery that can easily be resolved like you don't want her to be happy and-"

“STOP IT!” Yor screamed, silence immediately descending upon the apartment. Even Bond and Anya froze in the hallway, the little girl’s eyes wide and glassy while a trembling hand clutched at her dog’s fur.

A shudder ran through Yor and her voice cracked as she continued, her head rising from the droop, but her eyes too filled with tears to really look either of the men in the face. “Enough. Both of you,” The words felt like glass shards falling from her lips, but she couldn’t stop. “There’s already enough fighting. There’s already enough blood. I just… I need time to process this. Because even if it’s not permanent, I will lose my brother and my husband and Anya will lose her father.”

“Nee-”

“Go home, Yuri. I don’t want to talk right now,” Yor snapped, red eyes burning in the direction of her brother before she marched towards the hallway, her back turned towards them. Her tone softened considerably before she continued. “I’m sorry, Loid-san, I’m not hungry. Please excuse me.”

As she passed the little girl and dog, both looking up at her so pitifully, she patted them both gently on the head. Her voice didn’t want to cooperate, something thick settling in her throat, but she hoped the two knew that she wasn’t angry at either of them and that she was sorry for the ruckus.

Not long after the door to her bedroom shut, the front door slammed shut too.

Yuri practically threw his day jacket into his locker, his hands shaking with suppressed emotion though his expression easily gave him away. The man was pissed and everyone gave him a wide berth as a result. And while it wasn’t the first time that such an expression graced his visage, this was probably the most intense his Captain had ever seen it.

He was honestly just relieved to see the kid hadn’t gotten injured, either by a bus or some other crazy incident, proven by the lack of bandages.

Taking a very deep breath and silently reevaluating his life choices for a moment, the senior SSS officer approached Yuri, sitting down to lace up his boots. “Want to talk about what’s bothering you, Yuri? Get it out of your system so you can focus?”

The younger man took a fairly long time to answer, his movements stiff, his jaw clenched so tightly that he was sure the kid was going to give himself a headache, and his red eyes seething. But the older man knew how to bide his time, confident Yuri would talk if he wanted to.

His laces were tied and a cigarette burned a third of the way down before the younger man finally spoke.

“Nee-san invited me over last night for dinner,” The man said, almost flatly, which is pretty unusual considering how he often gushes about his only living relative. “She was rather… upset the whole evening but we got to talk about it and,” Yuri let out a rush of air from his nose, his shoulders slumping just a bit and his head coming to slam against the now closed door of his locker. “She saw my name on the draft list, since she works at City Hall and all. I’ve never seen her so… distraught. I tried to reassure her that I would be fine and even told her the plan, but she didn’t take it well.”

The Captain exhaled a puff of smoke. “By telling her the plan, did you tell her you’ve already received your orders through the Foreign Ministry and know you won’t be sent to the front or just that you assume where you’ll be stationed?”

Yuri spun on his heel, hat held tightly in his fist, eyes narrowed in either confusion or irritation. “Why does that matter? It’s still the same information!”

“The former,” the older man began slowly, though not so slowly to be patronizing. “Gives a concrete answer, something that she can focus on as fact and reassure whatever anxieties she has about letting you go. Whereas the latter,” another puff of smoke swirled between the two of them. “Leaves her with nothing to stand on. Leaving her open to doubts and suspicions of how you know this information.”

Red eyes widened at that before he once again spun on his heel and slammed his head hard into the metal door of his locker. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! I just thought it was Loidy getting in the way, I didn’t think - UGH I’m so stupid!”

“Oi. Don’t injure yourself,” Captain snapped, ready to scruff his subordinate if necessary.

Yuri rubbed his forehead harshly into the metal before his shoulders relaxed a little bit, almost in defeat. “She doesn’t want to see me anymore,” He whispered, his voice small, almost timid like a frightened child. “Nee-san sent me away this morning without a smile or…or anything.”

“Give her some time,” the older agent said, putting out the cigarette and standing. “She’s not familiar with the assignment procedures and how much bureaucracy is involved with it, even if she does work at City Hall. She’ll call when she’s ready. In the meantime, we better focus on your assignment and the debrief.”

Slowly, Yuri lifted his head from the door and affixed his cap atop his head, shoulders straightening and that ever present determination filling his eye. “Yes, sir.”

Throughout his life, fight, flight, and freeze had it’s moments within it. Fighting for survival on the front and in his current work. Flight in his younger years, scurrying around like a sewer rat in order to meet his basic needs alone. Freezing was a dangerous one. One that everything in him fought against with everything he could.

But now he found himself frozen to the spot within the Forger home. He could see the environment around him, could hear the cars driving down the road just beyond the window and the click of Bond’s nails on the floor. But he couldn’t move and wasn’t entirely certain he was breathing.

It had taken a week, but now the letter was in his hands. The summons had finally arrived.

And reading it sent chills down his spine.

From a purely professional stance, the letter was exactly how it should be. Official seals, signatures, and font all in order. This was the real deal. But it was his alias staring up at him, with the rank that the doctor supposedly once held beside it, that put him ill at ease. It shouldn’t, professionally speaking. It was proof that whatever background documentation had needed to be forged had been successful. It proved that the Ostanian Military believed that Loid Forger had served in the war with Westalis, had the proper credentials, and that the man existed.

But it was by that same token,Twilight felt dread crawl in. Because now…it was too real. He was leaving. The mission wasn’t over and yet he was leaving.

He was scheduled to meet with Handler in a few hours, perfect timing all things considered… though it was uncanny if he was being honest with himself. It would be best to leave the letter in his room though. He had already memorized it and it would be more suspicious if Loid was spotted discussing it directly with someone he wasn’t known to associate with.

The clock startled him out of his thoughts, ringing the hour. He didn’t need to confirm the time but it did remind him of the task he had been working on when the mailman had delivered the summons. With quick steps, he made his way back to the kitchen and continued placing items into a basket.

Since he had the day off from Berlint General and no additional missions per his Handler’s instruction, Twilight thought it might be a good idea to bring a meal to Yor. In the days following Yuri’s visit, his wife had avoided nearly every meal, either stating outright she wasn’t hungry or only serving herself meager nibbles. That, on top of her flightiness which had escalated in the recent days, was hard to watch.

He found himself watching helplessly as a vibrant woman faded before his very eyes.

It had only been a week and there was already a thinness to Yor’s face, one that wasn’t just because her expression was so drawn all the time. If it hadn’t been for the neighbors being concerned about the wellbeing of their sons and husbands, he was sure someone would have called about her appearance claiming some horrible lie. But that thought barely touched his mind. Instead, he found himself awake at night, staring up at the ceiling, mind tracing the lines of her face and something… tight, uncomfortable in his stomach.

Twilight wasn’t one to fear. Worry, stress, have a million contingencies on standby - absolutely. But fear? The little boy he once was had feared. The young man on the front lines had turned that fear into rage, a weapon that made him lethal on the front. The spy he had been forged into took that fear and gave him the tools to find the right answer.

However, as he closed the basket filled with items he knew Yor was fond of eating, Twilight found himself genuinely fearful for the woman he’d roped unwittingly into Strix. Fearing that this spiral would only get worse once she was told about the summons letter. And again once her brother was called to whatever front the SSS deemed suitable. There would only be so much he would be able to do before he received his own assignment. There was only so much he could do…but he was disappointingly behind on attempting to reassure her as Handler had ordered him to.

And then there was Anya. Fortunately, the girl’s appetite hadn’t changed since the announcement though there were little things she insisted on doing over the last few days. She’d insist on sitting in his lap while they watched Spy Wars, a grace he allowed since he didn’t have any reports or additional work to attend to - though he did insist that he was able to get up and make dinner during the commercial breaks between episodes. She had dragged her mother out of her room to draw or make some paper craft with her every day that weekend, insisting that “HaHa is the best with scissors!” and that there was no way she could do it by herself.

But probably the most difficult to watch had been Anya’s insistence on feeding her mother on particularly difficult days - though how she knew that one day was worse for Yor than others was something he still had yet to figure out.

At any other time, under any other circumstance, Twilight would probably consider the act begrudgingly cute. But, with all things considered, it just made his stomach hurt worse.

Anya was a child just trying to help her mother. He could understand that, but it was still his responsibility to help and reassure both of them. Things were only going to get harder from here and the worry that consumed him more when it came to the little girl.

Earlier that week, he had sat down with a child psychologist to discuss the best ways to approach a child about a parent being called to war. It had been much more headache inducing than he originally thought it would be and the additional research he had done after the fact told him that there was no way his girl would come out of this without some kind of abandonment trauma or simply suffer as a result of her only remaining “true” parent leaving. The amount of things that would change in rapid succession hadn't been something he'd previously considered and he had modified several "to do" lists to ensure everything would get addressed.

And there was the other issue of making sure Yor had legal rights over Anya to ensure that if, heaven forbid WISE suddenly changed their minds while he was gone, they couldn't take the girl from the only mother she’d known while under his care.

It wasn’t all hopeless. If he could help Yor effectively and they could both reassure Anya that she would never be abandoned, then he had a chance at improving the odds of his mission. Had a chance at making it so that Anya would have a better future than he had. The paperwork for legal adoption wouldn’t be that difficult, though it would be best to go through as many truthful channels as possible to ensure that no underhanded tactics and loopholes could be exploited. He’d have to consult Franky on the specifics.

But he was getting ahead of himself. With a firm nod he checked that Bond had enough food, water, and something to keep him occupied for a few hours and then ordered the dog to watch over the house while he was away. Slipping on his jacket and hat was effortless and he carefully grabbed the picnic basket. Bond gave him a happy tail wag, eyes glued on the basket for a long moment before sitting, though Twilight was sure the dog understood the command and would do as instructed when he left.

Even with the early lunch rush, Twilight still made it in record time to City Hall. He had enough time to make an impromptu stop at the florist for a bloomed pink rose he saw in the window while passing, an ethereal hope that maybe it might make Yor smile.

When had he begun to miss that true smile of hers?

Straightening his shoulders, Twilight forced his expression into the kind, polite smile of Dr. Loid Forger and made his way to the front desk. One of the clerks there noticed him, and the basket, and smiled brightly. Almost too brightly.

“Can I help you?” She asked, bright teeth flashing in the light.

“Hi, yes, if you could,” Loid answered, a smile still affixed to his face. “I’m looking for the policy department? My wife works there and I believe she’s going on lunch soon.”

Technically, he doesn’t need directions. Twilight already has this building mapped in his mind. But Loid Forger hasn’t been to the policy and city planning departments, so it would be suspicious for him to just waltz in on his own.

The woman’s face doesn’t change all that much but she does give him very detailed directions. “If she’s heading to lunch shortly, she’ll likely be in the break room over there. It’ll be the room right before the bathroom on the left once you arrive on the floor.”

“Thank you,” He takes note of her nametag. “Amy, for your help. Have a good day.”

Without much issue, he was able to find the proper department. Not many people took notice of him, too focused on getting this task done or making their way to another location to bother with an unfamiliar face in the hallway. It probably helped that Twilight looked confident in his direction so no one felt the pressing need to confirm if he required assistance. He entered the correct office and began looking around for the break room when he saw the department head’s door open.

While the detail caught his attention for a fraction of second, he pushed it away in favor of continuing to locate the room Amy had suggested he check, eyes flitting away just as quickly as they arrived on it. His steps sure, he continued on his journey.

“Forger-kun!” An unfamiliar male voice called in a calm tone, halting Twilight’s steps. “May I have a word with you?”

Carefully, the spy spun on his heel, turning in the direction of the voice. He tried not to look surprised or confused, but the voice was of someone he was sure he hadn't spoken with in the past so…

Only for his eyes to fall on Yor, looking for all the world like a dried rose. Her posture was still straight, almost painfully so, but her expression was so dazed that he wondered just how she was able to focus on her work. Her head turned towards the voice that had summoned her, he realized, and nodded. Though he did note the worry to her lip, the way her fingers tightened, the way her chin lowered.

Oh no. “Yor!” His voice called out before he could think his action through, his feet taking a step towards her.

Instead of his wife’s gaze falling on him, a bespeckled man in the doorway turned his way. The man’s face was thin, the flesh around his cheeks stretched slightly downward, as if the man maintained a constant neutral or frown on his face. The light caught his glasses perched on a thin nose making it nigh impossible for Twilight to gauge the man’s expression.

It took a second too long, but Yor’s face finally turned upright, her eyes finally turned his way, and for a second he felt like he could breathe again. Keeping his eyes fixed on his wife, Twilight crossed the distance rather quickly.

“Ah! Loid-san,” she answered once he was close enough, her expression still fluttering between that shuddering closed and worry. “Why…what are you doing here?”

“I was trying to catch you before you went to lunch, but it looks like you’re being called away,” He said before turning his eye on the man who had called for Yor. The man stands slightly shorter than Twilight, but is still several centimeters taller than Yor. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir. I can gladly wait for her out here.”

While he still couldn’t see the man’s eyes from this angle, it felt like he was being sized up. Like his worth was weighed in the scales in a way that he wasn’t quite sure he understood. But he kept his expression polite, posture relaxed but straight, and his fingers from twitching towards the gun he always kept on him.

Whatever the test was, it was over as soon as it began as the man gave him a nod, his lips turning up in a small smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Mister…erm. Dr. Forger, right? It’s no trouble at all. I was actually just about to confirm that she was heading to her break,” He turned back towards Yor. “Please enjoy your lunch.”

“Uh… Thank you, Buchou-san,” She answered with a slight bow of her head. “I’ll-”

“There’s no rush. All tasks are being managed very well for today and we aren’t expecting any calls,” The director cut her off, though his voice was soft, as if gently guiding someone in a fragile state. “Enjoy the time with your husband.”

That twisting feeling was back.

With a breath, Yor nodded again and turned away from the man to face her husband. Her smile was tense, as though she was putting all her strength into the gesture. Doing her best to be happy to see him, like a wife should, but it was clearly strained. But he could see the splotches on her cheeks, the red rim to her eyes. While there were no tear stains on her face, it was obvious she was still emotional about everything and desperately trying to hide that fact.

Even if it meant that she looked like the facade would break at any moment.

“Shall we?” Twilight asked, gently, softly, taking his cue from the older man. Loid’s voice came naturally in this moment, full of warmth and reassurance, even if internally his mind and stomach were screaming. He lifted the basket he carried a bit, just in case she hadn’t seen it before. “I brought something we can share, if you are feeling up to it.”

Her eyes glanced slightly towards her director and Twilight didn’t miss the nod the man gave. He didn’t have much time to think on it as Yor’s eyes turned back to him, trying so hard to smile normally. “Alright. Did…did you want to go to the park to eat?”

The smile on his face came a little easier. “That sounds perfect,” Loid agreed, guiding her down the hall.

The park in question just happened to be the same one that she had shown Loid and Anya during their very first outing, back when the ink on their marriage certificate was fresh and they were all merely acquaintances. How things had changed.

There was a small pavilion near the top of the park’s terraces, a sturdy shelter that could withstand snow and sleet. Within it the city had placed a space heater since the cooler days were upon them and snow would no doubt be forecasted in the near future. Several cozy tables were set up within the space allowing for couples and small families to enjoy a meal in the fresh air. The sounds of adults chattering and kids not old enough for school playing with dogs or each other lifted some of the tension. Things weren’t perfect, but at least the children were still able to happily play.

Loid set down the picnic basket he had brought and pulled out a cloth from within it. In a moment, he had part of the table covered by the cloth and was beginning to pull out other items - a pair of bowls, mugs, some utensils, and two thermos - one typically for hot drinks, one usually intended for hot food. While she really should have helped him, her husband was fairly quick in his arrangement and by the time she moved to assist, everything was ready.

“Shall we?” Loid asked, turning kind blue eyes her way. His warm smile made the guilt pinch even more, forcing her to nod and take the offered seat. When her fingers began to reach for the thermos, her husband passed her the taller, thinner one. “If you could? It’s Hot Cocoa, so please be careful.”

Grateful she could at least do something, Yor set about her task, making sure to give her husband a generous portion and herself a satisfactory one. She still found herself unsure if she could actually eat or drink in that moment, but she didn't want to waste whatever he brought for her. Once finished, she turned to pass the mug to him and found him holding out a bowl of something delicious.

Stew. Her mother’s stew.

“I hope I’m not overstepping…but I wanted to make something I know you enjoy,” Loid began in a soft voice, carefully setting the bowl before her and ensuring it was positioned correctly before taking the mug from her fingers. “I thought Southern Stew may pique your appetite.”

It was so terribly hard not to cry again over it. She had cried so much this past week and just wanted it all to stop. This grief was all consuming and she was so tired of it. Loid had been beyond patient with her, giving her space, letting Anya help pull her from the depths, waiting in the wings for her to reach out to him…and yet he was still so gentle in his care.

Was this why she felt so lost when seeing his name on the list? Her panic over Yuri had been a given, he was her brother after all. But Loid was just her husband of convenience. Granted…she had worried for Anya’s sake, but it felt deeper, an ache so deep and uniquely Loid shaped that she couldn’t dismiss it as just her past or just fretting about Anya’s wellbeing - even if that too was a deep ache. Could this be a symptom of that long ignored warmth that she felt when it came to Loid? The one that had torn her to pieces when jealousy filled her blood after meeting Ms. Frost? The one she buried that night after she and Anya fell asleep in Loid’s cardigan? The one she fought against when she found him awake in the night and he gently tucked her hair behind her ear?

The one she succumbed to in her own bed while weeping into his shoulder?

With a deep breath, she pushed that thought away and picked up the spoon. It felt heavier than it should as she dipped it into the red broth and brought it to her lips. Unlike a week prior, it didn’t feel like ash in her mouth and didn't taste bitter. Maybe it was the change of scenery, maybe it was that worry wasn’t churning so viciously within her, or maybe she just felt a little better today. While she didn’t eat with gusto, after bringing just that single spoonful to her lips she certainly felt like she wanted to eat.

After she had finished one bowl, her husband refilled it with a smile, offering a warm crust of bread to go with it.

Once the soup was finished, Loid collected the dishes and pulled out another container, a pastry box from a bakery Loid seemed to frequent. One that made a caramel nut cake that Anya loved and an apple tart he knew that she liked.

“You don’t have to eat the whole thing,” He said with a little sheepishness in his expression. “But I thought you’d like a bite of something sweet too.”

While she wasn’t entirely sure she could handle much more of his kindness, she agreed that a small slice wouldn’t be objectionable. “Do you want a bite too?” She asked as he passed her the slice on a napkin.

Loid seemed to consider it for a moment, some fast moving thoughts moving behind his eyes before he nodded and cut a small piece for him before sticking the rest in it’s box for better transport later. They continued to eat in silence, but it didn’t feel insurmountable. If she wanted to, she could reach out and speak, but she didn’t have to. It wasn’t a tense silence. It wasn’t filled with dread or pain. It just was and Loid seemed okay with it merely existing.

The bell tower soon rang the hour, informing Yor that she had ten minutes to return to work. Her husband recognized this too and added the pastry box and the now empty mugs into the basket. She helped fold up the table cloth after giving it a gentle shake along the grass before passing it to him. Once it was secured, he held out the cocoa thermos to her.

“There’s still more if you’d like to take it back to work with you,” He explained with a gentle smile.

Her fingers wrapped around the thermos, the warmth filling her fingers. She couldn’t help but feel a bit better, a bit more emotionally stronger after this meal. Not enough to take on the whole world but certainly enough to make it through her shift at work.

As Loid walked her back to City Hall, their comfortable silence was interrupted by soft assurances that she didn’t have a late shift tonight and that he would be taking Bond to the park before picking Anya up from school. While she was sure their daughter would have loved to go play with her dog, the semester would be wrapping up in a few weeks. It would be wise for the girl to attend to her studies in the home stretch. They could play more during the break.

It wasn’t until they arrived at the building that Loid halted in his steps. It was too abrupt for him to have decided this was where he was going to part ways so she turned to look. His brows were furrowed as he opened one of the lids of the basket and dug around within. Had they forgotten something?

A sigh, something between relief and resignation, escaped him as his hand stopped frantically searching and he slowly pulled a mostly undamaged large pink rose bloom from the basket. It was about the size of her hand, thornless, and matched the color of her coat. The only damage she could see was the stem was snapped, almost completely in two pieces, leaving the flower dangling by five centimeters of stem from the rest of the woody stalk. “I wanted to give this to you earlier,” He sighed, shifting the basket slightly on his arm before carefully pulling out a small pocket knife he kept on his person and finishing the damaged cut, freeing the blossom. He slid the rest of the stem and knife back into his pocket while considering the flower, his eyes narrowed as if considering something. “It’s still beautiful…”

Before she had a second to consider what to do with the short stem, Loid took a step towards her and slid the blossom behind her ear, the stem finding security in her low bun and support from her headband. Yor blinked up at him, a hand slowly rising to where the bloom lay, just out of her peripheral vision.

“Yor-san,” Loid whispered, bringing her attention back to him. “I…won’t lie to you and say things won’t be difficult going forward. This wasn’t something you signed up for when we met months ago, but,” He took a deep breath. “If you are still willing to be in this arrangement with us, with Anya, I cannot think of a better person to have by my side through this uncertainty. Even if she isn’t blood to you, you are Anya’s mother and I couldn’t have found a better one for her if I tried.” His voice faltered for only a moment/. There was something in his face that told her he was being genuine, but his next words sent a shiver down her spine. “But if this is all too much for you, I completely understand if you want to leave and I-”

“No!” she cut him off, her heart rate skyrocketing at the thought. “No, no. I…I want to stay. I-Th-” The words were there, things she desperately needed to say, had wanted to say for a long time. Closing her eyes for a moment, she did her best to relax enough to let herself speak. “Being a Forger is everything I could have hoped for. And…and even when times are tough, isn’t that when families should stick together? I mean… even if you let me become a Forger under mutual convenience, we…we are still a family, right? I don’t care if it’s difficult and that there...there’s a possibility of things getting worse when you leave. But that is what I was willing to risk when I asked to marry you that day. No matter what hardships await us, let us be there for each other.” Her free hand reached out and held his, her cold fingers meeting his ever present gloves. “That’s what we promised that day. And I meant it. No matter what happens, I’ll be there for you and Anya-san, Loid. There’s no place I’d rather be.”

Chapter Text

Time becomes strange when staring down the barrel of a metaphorical gun.

All at once, he felt like they had too much and too little time, a state that Twilight felt keenly in the days after the announcement. It was a horribly uncomfortable feeling. One only worsened as the days passed and the signs of change began to show up everywhere - young men lined up outside of the local recruitment offices awaiting their appointments, the increase in work at City Hall leading to later shifts for Yor, peace demonstrations and flyers around the parks, and even some tension at Eden College.

No one, it appeared, was spared. Though the spy highly doubted that the recruitment from Eden would go very far. After all, schooling was an excellent place to hide the young and influential from the horrors of war.

How he hated to see the young, impressionable faces in the lines. No doubt they would be told stories of honor, of Ostania's finest, for the military has always been where propaganda has its deepest hold. How else could you impress the young to go fight the rich's battles?

How many of those boys would come home in one piece, physically or mentally?

Tightening his fist, the leather of his glove pulled at his skin. It wasn't the same as pressing his nails into the flesh of his palm, but the slight sound was enough to stir him from his thoughts as he neared Franky's tobacco shop.

The scruffy man stood in his usual spot, a burning cigarette in his fingers and a crease between his brows. His red glasses lay curiously on the counter and Franky held his head with his opposite hand as if in deep thought.

Twilight tapped a gloved finger on the counter to get the man's attention before turning to lean his back on it, blue eyes narrow under the brim of his hat as he observed the random passersby. “A dalc for your thoughts?” He asked quietly.

“You know how much I despise war, Tasogare,” Franky sighed, tapping his cigarette on the ashtray. “I thought we were making genuine progress towards peace but maybe I was too focused on here and not elsewhere. Now we are going to suffer for it, again…”

His tone was heavy, not too unlike the man on the battlefield that he had met back when he was just a soldier with a stolen name and a gun. How things had changed and yet remained the same. There was a hint of defeat in his voice, something Twilight hadn’t heard in a while even with all of the man’s failed attempts at relationships. For all Franky’s fluttering around on the wind in life, the spy knew that the man held a very deep concern for veterans in particular and any movement by the government that could lead to more traumatized men and women coming home would obviously strike nerves much deeper than any passing romantic fancy.

“Did they send you a notice too?” Twilight inquired, keeping his voice barely above a whisper.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Franky’s negative shake. “Even if they tried, they wouldn't be able to find me. And even if they did, I wouldn’t qualify because - wait…” The man straightened, dark eyes widening and looking up at the blonde. “‘Too?’ What-”

Shifting slightly, Twilight turned just enough to face the man without fully turning his back to the world around them. “Loid was in the first wave of recruitment and I received the notice a few days ago,” Blue eyes turned back to the world around them. “It’s been discussed and I’ve got an appointment with the recruiter bright and early Monday morning.”

The hand holding the cigarette thumped down on the counter and Twilight could see Franky’s open mouthed astonishment. “But what about Strix?” The man demanded in a hush. “Surely they aren’t just going to -”

Twilight felt his neck give out slightly, his chin thumping onto his chest. If it wasn’t for the fact that he would be picking up Anya in an hour, he would have asked for a cigarette. But the stress of rehashing this out with people around him was getting to him. He kept it to the barest minimum when Nightfall had brought it up and the discussion with Handler had mainly revolved around timetables and development of a new coding system. Conversations with Yor had been…the most difficult. Even with her assurance that being by his side physically and metaphorically was exactly where she wanted to be, there was still a fragility about her. The grief didn’t resolve overnight, nor had he expected it to. It still kept him up at night, thinking through everything, still tracing the shape of her face over and over again in his head.

And that was everything outside of his worry for Anya. Yor may consume his restless nights, but thoughts of his daughter filled his waking hours.

With a heavy sigh, he pulled a semi thick envelope from the inner pocket of his trenchcoat. “Strix will still be going on,” He whispered, setting down the envelope without looking at the other man. “Anya’s already doing the heavy lifting and there’s not much I can truly do to help speed things along. Her grades are improving and her interactions with Desmond’s son have become less hostile, so we will hopefully remain on track with me being away for a while.”

“So then what’s this?” Franky asked, a hand resting with trepidation atop the manilla.

“I need your help to ensure that Yor will retain custody of Anya,” the spy answered immediately, tone almost flat. He didn’t miss the sharp inhale from behind him. “Just in case. WISE fully intends for me to come back, but I…have reservations that make me question if they may change gears and… move her to another’s care.”

The words feel like glass shards followed by an uneasy silence. One that Twilight doesn’t let sit for longer than three seconds.

“I need to make sure this is airtight, Franky. That anything WISE may attempt to do either in my or someone or something’s name while I am not around will be thwarted,” His voice is too tight, but he must press on. “Anya needs her mother and Yor needs her daughter.”

Franky's silence punctuated Twilight's words. The bispeckled man knew better than to trust any organization even if he and Twilight had relied on each other for years. That had never translated to WISE. The closest it had come was working with Nightfall.

“Did…” Franky finally spoke up, resting his glasses on the bridge of his nose once more. “Did they imply that they would?”

Twilight knew his silence spoke volumes. “I want to make sure I have every t crossed and I dotted before discussing this with the girls this weekend,” he said instead. “Can you figure out what I'm missing by then?”

The envelope lifted from the counter. “Do you think Yor is going to go for this? I mean… she has every right to refuse having a child forced upon her because of circumstances beyond her control.”

“No matter what, I’ll be there for you and Anya-san, Loid.”

Even with her promise the other day, he wasn’t delusional to have not considered the point. He was certain that if it wasn’t for the fact that Yor loved Anya, Twilight wouldn’t have considered this route at all. He would've found someone else to take custodial care of the little girl should the worst happen to him. There wasn’t much he could do as a spy to ensure she was well provided for, but he should have set up some kind of trust for her, especially given that she was critical in the success of his mission, right? Even if she never knew, would never know just what she had done for the peace of their countries, sending the girl back to poverty and loneliness wasn't something he should (and now could) have ever considered.

She was just a child. An innocent in all of this.

The thought struck like a kick to the stomach and it took every ounce of training to keep himself from doubling over.

“I just want to make sure I have everything in order to make it easy for them if she says yes,” Twilight finally answered, pulling his hat a little closer to his forehead.

He expected something like “you’ve gone soft” or “you gotta keep your emotions out of this.”

Neither comes.

“Let me know if you want me to watch the kid this weekend when you talk to the missus,” Franky whispered, snuffing out the cigarette. “Hell, if you want the apartment to yourselves I can bring Anya and Bond over to my place. I doubt you’ll be able to find somewhere else to truly be alone to discuss something so sensitive considering everything,” the man gestured wildly at the world around them. “Couples will be up to in the coming weeks.”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed, looking out of the corner of his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The informant leveled him with a look. “What’s the one thing most soldiers do with their significant others before they leave for war? Surely You've noticed the lines? How full restaurants have been? Hotel vacancy lights haven't turned on in a few days?”

It takes a fraction of a second for it to click and when it does, his heart sinks further into his chest. While he had only been a teen at the time of his enlistment, there had been soldiers in his unit that had mentioned sweethearts and new brides waiting for them back home. Many mentioned how they had brought their wives to the courthouse the day they were drafted so that they could marry. Not everyone had done that, of course, but there were enough that it stuck.

There would certainly be an air of desperate love floating around Berlint. No. Not would. There already was. Just a day ago he had spotted more than one young couple making their ways into City Hall or the Courthouse or the local bank, whispering words that he had caught stating such things with certainty as “I know for sure you are the one I want to spend the rest of my life with”.

It hadn’t clicked at the time, with his mind consumed by thoughts of Anya and Yor, but Franky’s statement forced him to confront it.

He couldn’t bring himself to think that such behavior would be expected of Mr. and Mrs. Forger. Not with the depression that still loomed at the edges of Yor’s eyes and especially not because they have never been that way. It was all a ruse, a mutual farce. Every single one of their “dates” had been to keep the rumors away and ensure that Yor was happy in their arrangement. Going any farther than that was…

Stop.

“I’ll let you know either tonight or tomorrow morning of plans,” He said, straightening off the counter and giving the other man a nod. “Thank you, Franky.”

Picking Anya up was a simple affair, almost routine at this point. It had been the primary purpose of getting the car in the week after the bus incident and Twilight was hard pressed to not feel some kind of security that came with having one’s own means of transportation. Sure it wasn’t the flashiest or most spacious car and he did need to leave it behind for spy work (so as to not have it traced back to him for numerous reasons), but it seated 4 reasonably well, was reliable and suitable for a man of his public profession.

But that didn’t mean that his thoughts weren’t spinning as he made his way home from Eden Academy, nor did it stop his hands from nearly throttling the steering wheel.

He had no real clue what this conversation was going to be like with Anya. His adopted daughter had a habit of throwing him curve balls at his expectations and assumptions, a true mystery that he just couldn’t quite figure out, and that made planning much more difficult. Too many options left him wondering just what would be the best one. Would the park be too public? The house may not be a good idea if they couldn’t finish their conversation before Yor got home. Safe houses are out of the question. Library needs silence so if she has a tantrum that’s out. Maybe we could grab a cup of cocoa-

“ChiChi?” Anya’s voice pierced through the flood of questions, her voice sounding soft and a touch woozy.

Concerned, he looked in the rearview mirror at the girl. Her face looked a touch paler than usual and her eyes were pin pricks. “Are you alright, Anya?”

“Could we get some… can we stop at the baconry?!” her little hand pointed eagerly towards the little shop he would usually stop in. The one that made excellent caramel nut cake. Her eyes widened slightly. “Pwease oh pweaseeeee ChiChi!”

While he was still concerned about her pallor, she had given him an easy excuse to pull over, an opportunity to step out and find a place where the two of them could talk face to face. And he would be a fool to not take it.

“Sure,” he agreed, signaling his desire to turn into a nearby parking lot. They would need to walk half a block in order to circle back to the bakery, but he could carry her if necessary.

Parking and exiting the vehicle was quick, though as soon as he opened the door to assist the girl’s exit from the car, Anya looked him square in the face and held up her arms. “Anya’s feet hurt. ChiChi carry Anya please?”

A small huff escaped Twilight’s chest at that, as if he had predicted that the little girl would be too tired after a day of learning. He lifted her under her armpits and brought her to his chest, one arm cupping under her legs so she could wrap her arms as well as she could around his shoulders. While she wasn’t as tiny as she had been the day he adopted her, she was still fairly petite for her age. The toddler roundness had returned to her cheeks giving her a more healthy appearance, one he couldn’t be more grateful for since it reduced the whispers regarding him as a neglectful parent (and Yor by proxy).

Internally he groaned at the thought, hoping that in the wake of him being deployed Yor wouldn’t be held to such insane scrutiny.

They made their way within the bakery, ordered, and sat down at one of the dine in tables. Anya’s green eyes were the size of saucers as she prepared to devour her treat, though she did have a fork in hand and a napkin on her uniform so hopefully she wouldn’t make too much of a mess. Twilight let the girl eat her treat in contentment while he got his thoughts in order.

About five bites into the cake, Anya’s fork hovered between her mouth and her plate before she looked up and realized her father wasn’t eating the treat he had got for himself (at her insistence). Her eyes blinked at him before she sat up a little straighter, her lips sliding slightly back and forth as if she wanted to say something.

Eventually, she came to a decision. “ChiChi…”

“Hm?” He inquired, pulled away from his thoughts for the moment.

“You look a little… Are you sick, ChiChi?”

The question echoes a memory, one enhanced by the food and their places at the table, back when he had asked the same question when she had looked so…angry aboard the Princess Lorelei. At the time, he had been worried for his daughter, but now it seemed he had worried her. That hadn't been his intention, but apparently he was wearing his weariness and anxiety on his face again.

Good going, Tasogare. A very small voice whispered in the back of his head. But he pushed it aside, forcing himself to recall the conversation with the child psychologist and his reading. With a deep breath, he set his folded hands on the table.

“Anya,” he began, being sure to let his expression be as gentle as he could manage. “In a few weeks, I'm going to have to go for a long trip far away.”

Anya's eyes widened in that curious way of hers, as if she was attempting to look into his very soul. She lowered her fork to the table.

“I'm needed to help a bunch of people who may get hurt and I'm not entirely sure how long this trip will be. I could be gone for a few months or a year…maybe two.”

Her pupils became pinpricks at that. “B-but what…what about peace?” She asked, almost frantically. “ChiChi has to stay here and defeat the big boss, right?”

Big boss? He had to fight any internal amusement from that. This girl really loved that spy show of hers. “I guess I'll be helping make peace where I'm going. People are fighting there and need doctors to make sure they can come home to their families.”

It's the truth even if spoken simply for her young age. That doesn't stop the tremble of her lip.

“Does… does that mean Anya has to go back to the or-fan-age?” She sniffled, shattering Twilight's heart.

Within a second, the spy was kneeling beside his daughter, fingers brushing away tears from under his eyes. “No, Anya, no. Never!” I will never send you back there or anywhere away from your mother ever again. “You'll stay here with Yor and Bond. You'll still get to go to school and the aquarium and shopping with Becky and the dog park and anywhere else you want to go as long as Yor, Franky, or Martha are with you.” Please don't cry, peanut. You'll be safe.

“But…but ChiChi won't be here!” She cried, flinging her arms around his shoulders. “Anya's family isn't com-ple-ed without ChiChi!”

For what felt like the millionth time since the start of Strix, Twilight cursed WISE and himself in equal measure. This mission was too cruel - to lead a child on about their adopted parent, foster a situation where bonding was sure to occur, only to tear all that stability and security away in probably one of the most heartless ways a spy could once the mission was accomplished. Clearly this has been thought up by someone who had sold their immortal soul to hell.

Even if his goal was now to ensure that Yor would have full custody of Anya should something happen to him (foreseen or not), it was the smallest of consolations. She would still lose a parent either way. And after all she as an orphan had already lost…

He was a monster.

Do better, Tasogare.

His arms wrapped around the little girl's form, holding her close and rubbing circles into her back. While the ever vigilant spy could feel the eyes on him, for once he didn't give a damn. Let them look and see what this war has done to fathers and children alike! Let them witness with their own eyes the folly and stupidity of war! Loid wouldn't let this moment be taken from Anya, even by himself. The girl, his girl, deserved this moment of grief.

When her tears calmed enough and she pulled her head away from his shoulder, he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, cleaned her face, and directed her to blow her nose.

He still has more to discuss with Anya but he doesn't want to push it. Especially since she looks emotionally exhausted. He had been warned of this, told that he needed space things out and let her process.

Maybe trying to talk to Yor this weekend was going to be too soon. Just because he was going to the recruiter on Monday didn't mean he'd be heading for training the same day. He would still have time.

“If…” Anya's raspy voice broke the silence, her tone flat as if bracing for the worst. “If ChiChi is gone… what happens to Anya?”

Twilight's arm remained around her, pressing her cheek into his shoulder once more, letting her lean on him in what he hoped was a comforting way. She was so small against him. Fragile. “You'll still be a Forger, Anya. You'll still be able to go to Eden, see Becky, play -”

“But,” she interrupted, lifting her head to look him in the eye. Her green eyes looked so terribly haunted…it was like staring back at a mirror of his younger self. “What if you don't come home? What happens to Anya then?”

She's already lost her birth parents… of course she would be familiar with death…

Taking a long breath, Twilight shifted slightly, moving his hand from her back to hold her hand. It was so tiny. “I don't want you to go back to the orphanage, Anya,” he began in a whisper. “And this is something I should have talked about with you a long time ago. I…I think it would be good for Yor to adopt you too. This way you will always have her even if something happens to me.” That way you'll have your mother and WISE can't take you away while I'm gone. I will come back.

Anya blinked at him, the color seeming to come back to her eyes and face. “Anya will stay with HaHa?”

“Should she agree,” he answered with a nod. “I doubt she'd say no. She loves you very much, Anya.”

“Anya loves HaHa too!” She cheered, her hands flying wide before pulling in on herself a moment later, her smile dimming but not vanishing. “It's only a pre-per-cat-shun right? ChiChi will come home?”

“Yes, Anya. I'll come home.”

“Promise?”

He knows he can't promise. War is filled with too many uncertainties. He knows of at least a hundred ways he could die out on the field or be grievously injured. He's already seen the terrors of war once.

But Anya is a child. She shouldn't know or understand those horrors. And if he did his job right, she never would. Would it be false hope to promise such a thing? He fully intends to come back to her. He fully intends to continue with Strix until the end.

So he gave in.

“I promise.”

While he didn’t go out of his way to ensure Yor was doing well, she couldn’t deny that McMahon was checking in on her more often than probably was necessary. He was there early in the morning, there by the door when she was leaving for work, poking his head into the workspace when it was getting close to lunch or reminding Barnes that the girls needed to take an afternoon break.

It was entirely possible he was doing that with the other office staff in the days following that dreaded day as well. It was honestly hard for her to tell as Yor found herself keeping more and more to herself. Even after talking with Loid outside of City Hall, when the pain began to lift from her shoulders slightly, the air felt too heavy in the office. While she hadn’t recognized everyone’s loved one from the list, she knew well enough that everyone was struggling. The silence where there had been gossip just a week ago screamed that.

Some days were better than others, but not by much.

Shopkeeper hadn’t reached out with a job since, something Yor found herself grateful for. With how messy she felt emotionally, it was probably for the best. There was a higher likelihood she would be less than her usual professionalism on the job and would bring with it all the complications of a distracted mind. She couldn’t afford injury. Couldn’t afford to make a mistake that could kill her.

That was probably why McMahon was hovering - keeping an eye on her in order to report to Shopkeeper on when she was well enough to return to her real work, something she wasn’t sure when she would be ready for.

Stretching her arms above her head, Yor tried to ease the tension within her as her shift wound down to a close. She would need to stretch more thoroughly at home and take a hot bath. With any luck, doing that would ensure that the muscles didn’t continue to cramp for a little while and, hopefully, get her through the weekend. Loid hadn’t mentioned any plans in particular, but he had said that he did have the weekend off so he would be home. It would be good for the four of them to go out, if only to help keep a routine for Anya and Bond. Perhaps the fresh air while watching the girl run and be happy would help clear her mind from the fog of her last conversation with Yuri. Perhaps it wou-

“Have a good weekend!” Camilla called as soon as the top of the hour rang out from the clock, her jacket already covering her uniform and her purse in hand. The blonde rushed out of the room, hair flying behind her.

“Bye Camilla-senpai?” Yor called back, though her voice was filled with confusion. While her coworker wasn’t one who enjoyed spending any time later in the office than absolutely necessary, she had never seen her just run off as soon as the shift was over.

Millie gave a sigh from her desk. “Lucky Cami,” She said, her blue eyes following after her friend.

“Lucky?”

The youngest coworker shrugged before gathering her own belongings, though with much less haste. “Dominic planned a special weekend for the two of them. Though,” She leaned towards Yor conspiratorially, her voice pitching to almost a squeal. “I wonder if they are planning to elope!”

Yor’s fingers froze as she considered it. Dominic had been unusually flighty over the course of the week and she had spotted the couple having some rather intense but hushed conversations when they could spare a moment. They never looked particularly unhappy during those moments, in fact Camilla had looked and acted much happier over the past few days, even if some of it was drowned out by the gloom of the week.

“Well, she took Monday and Tuesday off,” Sharon added, pulling Yor from her reprieve. The bispeckled woman was already ready to leave, though she wasn’t in a hurry towards the door. “So we won’t know for certain until Wednesday at the earliest.”

Millie clapped enthusiastically at that before grabbing the remainder of her belongings. After a moment, all three were on their way towards the front door. The former filled the air with some light conversation, nothing of serious consequence, at least until after they gave well wishes for the weekend to Barnes and McMahon who were waiting by the door of policy. The elder of the two gave Yor a slight nod but there was no hidden directive so she simply gave the two men her best polite smile and continued on with her way.

The cool air turned their breath into visible vapor and Millie pulled her scarf closer and grumbled about how cold this winter was going to be, especially with how cold her bed will be once her boyfriend was sent away. The statement was so nonchalant that Yor barely had a second to be embarrassed by it. Mumbling her own farewell, she made her way down the road towards the subway.

The setting sun painted Berlint in golds and oranges, seeming brighter in the winter air. Soon it would be cold enough for the first frost and all the challenges that came with it. Surely Anya and Bond would enjoy the snow when it arrived, but all it brought for Yor was reminders of years where she and Yuri barely survived.

Doing her best to push away such gloomy thoughts, Yor straightened her shoulders as she walked. This mood of hers had gone on long enough. She needed to brighten up for Anya's sake, especially with potential weekend activities on the horizon. Even then, just being home for the full weekend would require her to at least attempt a brave face.

Eyes were on her.

Spinning on her heel, her red eyes searched for the source of the eyes, her fingers ready to dive into her purse for the small knife she kept there -

A short, quick beep sounded from the road and there was her husband's car coming to a stop by the sidewalk. In the driver seat, she could see Loid giving her a smile. The rear passenger window rolled down and Anya stuck her head out, waving frantically.

“HAHA!” the little girl called, her smile pulling wide on her face.

Yor hurried to her daughter's side. “Anya-san, careful! You could fall out and hurt yourself!”

Anya giggled but ultimately sat back down in her seat. “HaHa come sit with Anya, pwease? Anya missed you so much!”

Her joy was infectious and Yor knew she couldn't resist her. “Is that alright, Loid-san?”

“Of course,” her husband reassured warmly.

She didn't need to be told twice and opened the door as soon as the lock disengaged. She slid in next to Anya and assisted in ensuring both seat belts were on. By the time Loid pulled back into traffic, Anya was safely secured and hugging her mother's waist.

The girl enthusiastically discussed her day in detail. How classes had been, what she and Becky had for lunch and how they spent recess, how her father picked her up and they went to the bakery to get a treat. She even stage whispered conspiratorially that her father had gotten Yor an apple tart - the bestest one they had because Anya insisted that HaHa deserved the best.

The tears that sprung to Yor's eyes upon hearing that were mostly of joy and embarrassment, but she did her best to not let them fall.

Anya snuggled more into her mother's abdomen, fingers curling into the fabric of her cold weather coat. “Anya loves you so so much, HaHa,” she said suddenly, practically purring.

Yor's hand, which has been combing through Anya's pink locks, froze at that. It wasn't the first time the girl had made such a proclamation and she doubted it would be the last, but something about it felt heavy. As if the world depended on the girl saying it over and over and over again.

“I love you too, Anya,” she whispered back, pulling the girl to her gently and continuing to comb her fingers through cotton candy hair. “To the Moon and back.”

“I had everything looked over by a lawyer who owes me. He said this was the most thorough request for adoption he's ever seen. I left his business card in the packet in case you want to go over his notes in person.”

“Thanks Franky.”

“This one's on the house. Kid deserves every opportunity to stay with her mother.”

Chapter Text

It's not going to bite you, Yoru. She admonished herself as she stared at the phone. Just pick it up and dial.

She was alone for the moment. Anya was still asleep and wouldn't wake for another half hour at the earliest and the front door had just clicked shut announcing Loid and Bond's departure for their morning stroll. She would have the next half hour to an hour to herself.

And she needed to use it wisely.

You don't know if Yuri has a weekend shift! Plus what if he's resting, I should -

She squashed that inner voice. If Yuri didn't answer, she'd just call him back later. They really needed to talk and she was finally feeling well enough to hear his voice.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, shaky fingers picked up the phone from its cradle and dialed the long memorized number.

It barely rang twice.

“Nee-san?” Her brother's voice cracked over the line. “I-is that you?”

Something within her broke and healed simultaneously. He sounded exhausted, as if her poor brother was getting less rest than usual. His job better be- “Hi, Yuri,” she greeted softly.

Her brother practically wailed over the line. “Nee-san, oh nee-san, I'm so so so so so sorry. I was just trying to reassure you but it didn't come out right and I didn't mean to make you upset and I should have explained things better because of work and -”

“I understand, Yuri,” she cut him off gently. “It hurt at the time and…but I just needed time to process. It's… it had already been a hard couple of days by the time we talked and I just… I wasn't handling it well. But I never should have taken that out on you. I'm sor-”

“You did nothing wrong, nee-san!” Yuri insisted, cutting her off. “I'm the one that botched this. I just… I didn't want you to worry and ended up saying the wrong thing.” He let out a sigh, slowing the speed of his words. “I… I was informed of my assignment through the ministry. They had the first pick of where I would go and what I would be doing. It will be a hard assignment but a lot less risky than the front lines. So I'll be safe, I promise.”

Her knees felt a little weak and Yor found herself leaning hard against the table that houses the phone. It creeks but doesn't offer more protest thankfully. The relief that rose within her is bittersweet. Yuri's assignment made sense. The ministry would want him in a safer location given that he was a valuable resource to them, given his work ethic and rapid rise through the ranks. They had invested a lot in Yuri. They wouldn't let that go to waste.

But she also knew that no plan survives contact with the enemy and -

She shoved that thought away. Straightening, Yor forced the gloom to leave her. It wouldn't do her or Yuri or Loid or Anya any good to continue to mope. She needed to be strong. Needed to hold it together, to cling to hope that everyone would be safe and well.

“I'm so glad you will be safe and I trust you,” she answered with more conviction and belief than she had felt in days. “I love you, Yuri.”

“Neeee-saaaaaannnn I love you too!”

With Anya's approval and the paperwork secured, Twilight's mind was a flurry of activity, planning and then replanning several ideas on how to bring up the conversation with Yor. Many of his original ideas he scrapped on principle. This was a personal matter between the Forgers and it wasn't something that should be fully discussed outside the home. Franky was right regarding that.

And also on how amorous Berlint had become. Now that it was the weekend, it was harder to miss, harder to ignore as couples arm in arm as he and Bond went on their morning stroll. The sun had only been up for an hour and already the city was bustling with lovers. Florists and restaurants would be booked solid for that day and the line outside the bakery he and Anya had gone to the previous day had him thankful that he had picked up extra slices of cakes and tarts before they left.

By the time he and Bond returned to the apartment, his plans had whittled down to less than a third of his original ideas. But he would make that work. A simple dine-in alone would work splendidly, especially with Franky's offer to take Anya and Bond still on the table. The scruffy man had even insisted that they could stay the night “just in case”.

The implications made his jaw hurt from how tightly he clenched it. It's a ridiculous thing, one that he finds himself pushing away with growing frequency since this whole debacle began. One that snuck into his brain some time ago, back when he had that ridiculous dream or perhaps even further back than he dared to think about.

Stop. He ordered the thought away as he shut the apartment door and took off his jacket. Franky and the environment outside were putting useless, stupid, intrusive ideas into his head and if he kept entertaining them he was going to end up with a swollen chin or worse. Get a grip. You aren't -

“Oh! Good morning Loid-san, Bond-san,” Yor's greeting broke through the haze of thoughts, a cheer in her voice that had been absent in the Forger home since that horrific announcement.

Twilight's head snapped in the direction of her voice and nearly collapsed to the floor then and there. She was smiling. An honest, true, beautiful smile. The one that he had been sure may never return, the one that brightened the whole room only amplified by a sunbeam that highlighted her dark locks like a halo.

If he were a weaker man, he might have wept at the sight.

Am I dreaming? “Yor,” his voice croaked and he urgently cleared his throat. “Good morning!”

Bond borfed at the woman, practically prancing to her in the living room. His wife chuckled, sinking her fingers into the dog's fur to give him scritches and cooed at how good of a boy he was. “Did you have a good walk?” She asked, her voice clear and sweet, her eyes rising to meet Twilight in the entryway.

Her smile didn't fade from her eyes.

Twilight cleared his throat once more to give himself a second to think of a proper response. A voice in his head (that sounded suspiciously like his informant) said he should hug her while another (which had the menace of his daughter) egged him on saying he should kiss her.

In the end, he did neither.

He just smiled at her, warm and maybe a bit helplessly. “It was a good walk. Berlint is rather busy this morning and the weather is nice,” he finally answered. “I'm not sure how busy the park will be, so if we want to do something else, I can -”

Anya chose that moment to run out of her bedroom, her green eyes bright for so early in the morning. Her slippered feet nearly caught on the rug but she determinedly rushed into his legs. Her fingers curled around his pants while her eyes looked sparkling up at him.

“Uh,” he said stupidly. “Good morning, Anya. Did you sleep well?”

His daughter looked between her parents before the biggest smile he’d seen in days spread across her face and she began to jump up and down. “Ooting in the park! Ooting in the park!” She cheered, twirling and skipping with Bond at her heels. “Happy family ooting!”

The dog added his own borfs to the mix, filling the space with joy. A contagious one, considering Yor also began to giggle at their antics.

A little helplessly, Twilight swallowed back the pressure behind his eyes and walked into the kitchen. “Breakfast first,” He called and thankfully his voice didn’t crack. “What should we have?”

“Omli-rice! Omli-rice!” Anya chanted, keeping to the tune of her previous diddy.

Her father couldn’t help a smile as he pulled out the pan. “As you wish.”

While the park wasn’t bustling, there were quite a few people milling about by the time the Forgers arrived. Anya practically took off with Bond the moment that the dog’s leash was unclipped, leaving her parents to find a place to sit while they played. Yor couldn’t help but giggle at that, happy that their daughter was in brighter spirits. A twinge of guilt plagued her regarding the child’s somber mood from the past few days, as she was sure that her own mood had brought Anya’s down as well.

Loid had the foresight to bring a thick blanket for the two of them to sit on while watching the child play. The snow hadn’t arrived yet and the sun had evaporated the dew, but with the mud Bond’s feet kicked up, it was certainly a good idea.

Letting her head lull to the side as she watched Anya run around, Yor took a deep, cleansing breath. “I spoke with Yuri this morning,” She whispered, breaking the silence between her and her husband.

He looked up from the book he had brought with him, his head resting on the rolled up bag that had held the blanket on their journey. “Did it go well?” He asked after a moment, though his voice didn’t sound worried.

“Yeah,” Yor let her eyes look away from Anya for a moment to turn to her husband. “We talked things out and everything is good now.”

Loid’s blue eyes bore into her for a moment longer, as if searching for anything unsaid, before a warm smile pulled at his mouth. “I’m really glad, Yor.”

“Me too,” She turned back to look for Anya who was now chasing Bond in their friendly game. “Would it be alright if he came by for dinner next week? He’s pretty swamped at work, but I -”

“He’s always welcome in our home,” Loid interrupted gently, leaning up on his arm to look at her a little better over the reading glasses he wore. “You don’t need to ask for permission.”

“I know,” Yor answered sheepishly. “But after last time…I just thought it would be best to give you a heads up… with everything going on and all.”

Before her husband could say anything further, Anya ran over at full speed, crashing into her mother. Yor’s arms wrapped securely around the girl, tight worry curling in her chest until the girl lifted her head and beamed.

“HaHa! HaHa! Lookie!” Anya cheered as she pulled away enough to hold her arms out. “Bond found flowers!”

Yor sat up a little straighter with the girl in her lap before looking. Within the girl’s hands were about two dozen small, delicate blooms with bright green stems. They drooped to the side, immediately giving away their name and a soft smile tugged at her lips. “Snowdrops!”

“This far north?” Loid asked, sitting up to take a look himself before patting his daughter's head. “Wow. A pretty remarkable find, Anya.”

The girl blinked at him with a slight frown. “Do they not grow here lots?”

“They are more common near my hometown. They prefer slightly warmer climates but can sometimes migrate this far, especially if someone plants some or has them in a garden. They are also not poisonous so-” Yor answered, fingers petting the soft petals gently before she pulled away and looked sheepishly at Loid. “S-Sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Loid shook his head, that warm smile of his still pulling at his lip. “I didn’t know you knew so much about plants. Can you tell us more?”

“I-I’m not that much of an expert. We…Yuri and I just had snowdrops that grew in our yard every year,” She attempted to deflect. Was it too suspicious for her to know so much about plants? Her husband didn’t look particularly put off by the information and Anya was looking at her with wide eyes, the blossoms still cupped between her hands. “While they aren't poisonous, they were thought to be antidotes for some poisons for a while, though no one is really sure. They are usually pretty close to the ground so I’m glad you found some that were in pretty good condition, Anya. Did…did you want to try and make a flower crown out of them?”

If Anya’s green eyes hadn’t been sparkling before, they were practically stars at that question. “Yes! Yes please, HaHa!”

With a light chuckle, Yor took the flowers from the girl and began to demonstrated how to weave the stems together so that the flowers stood out from the circlet. “Okay, we start by taking two flowers like this,” she held two of the flowers she had been offered with the flowers upright. “Now we’ll take this one and wrap it in a loop around the other stem so it’s holding onto the other flower and hold the stems so they don’t come undone. Then get another one and do the same like this…”

After four flowers, she pulled her daughter into her lap so they could work on it together. Her daughter’s fingers fumbled through the weaving, needing more practice, but she eventually created a rhythm making the task easier for her. After a few minutes, Yor paused her creation just to ensure it wasn’t getting too big as they only had five flowers left and needed to close the loop. It was fairly easy using the looping of the ends of the remaining flowers to make sure everything was tucked in. After a moment, Anya was holding aloft the completed circlet, cheering brightly with kicking feet and giggles.

“Lookie! Lookie ChiChi! We did it!”

Loid’s smile looked like it hadn’t left his face the whole time the girls had been working on their project, his book hanging loosely in his hand while the other one propped his chin up on his knee. “Great job, Anya.”

Anya turned her gaze up to her mother, beaming.

“You did it, Anya-san!” Yor squealed, giving the girl a gentle hug before letting her go. “Did you want to put it on? Be a princess with your flower crown?”

The little girl looked at the flowers in her hand for a long moment before looking up at her father. Loid tilted his head a bit, questioningly, his smile dimming slightly. But before a full frown could form, Anya hopped to her feet and spun around to face Yor once more.

“I want HaHa to be the queen instead!” she announced, holding out the white and green circlet in her small hands.

Yor blinked at the circlet then back at the girl. She had that determined but happy look on her face, one her mother knew she wouldn't be able to resist for long. “Are you sure?” She asked, giving Anya a chance to back down if she really wanted the crown for herself.

“Positive! HaHa needs a soft crown.”

A soft crown? Yor stiffly ducked to allow Anya to place the circlet atop her head, a small knot of anxiety building just behind . I haven't left my tiara out for her to see…right?

“There!” Anya cheered after the flowers rested on her hair. “Now HaHa has a pink metal flower crown and a white real flower crown!”

Oh she's talking about the other one! Yor chuckled in relief before smiling up at the girl. “Thank you, Anya.” I love you very much.

Overall, Twilight had to declare the adventure a success.

The picnic in the park had gone exceedingly well with both Yor and Anya in high spirits during and after their time there. Even Bond had a pep in his step and the spy could feel the tension easing in his chest just a touch.

However, such brightness wasn't enough to chase away all the effects of the gloom that had hovered over the Forgers (and Berlint in general). By the time they arrived home, Yor looked exhausted and Anya was asleep in his arms. Even Bond looked a little worse for wear. So after taking Anya's shoes off and laying her in her bed, Twilight insisted Yor take a nap. He would see to Bond's bath so she could relax until dinner.

“Oh, Yor!” He called before she fully stepped into her room. Giving Bond the command to sit in the bathroom, Twilight stepped closer to his wife for just a moment. “I… would it be alright if we had dinner tonight, just the two of us? Franky volunteered to take Anya and Bond for the night and I wanted to discuss something with you.”

Yor blinked, her ruby eyes swirling with sleep but she was conscious enough to understand. “Like… a date?”

“Yes,” the spy tried not to sound so earnest. “A date here at home. Just you and I.”

The sleepiness must have been more intense than Twilight counted on since Yor kept blinking at him before her expression broke into another smile, one of those true ones and made something within him squeeze warmly and tightly. “I’d love to,” she said, though her statement was punctuated by a yawn. “What time?”

“Would our usual dinner time be alright?” He asked, noting that should give her enough time for a decent nap.

“Okay!” Her smile was not doing anything good for his heart as she stepped further into her room. “See you then.”

“Wonderful. Have a good nap!”

“Thanks for taking them, Franky. I’ll come pick them up in the morning.”

“Or I can bring them home when you’re ready,” the informant answered, pocketing the cash and swinging the bigger bag over his shoulder while handing the smaller one to Anya. “You can reach me at any time and don’t worry. We’ll have a blast!”

Twilight didn’t need to see Anya’s face to know that she was practically vibrating from excitement. “Waku waku!” The girl cheered before grabbing Franky's hand and practically dragging him towards the door. “Let's go! Let's go! Bye bye, ChiChi! Have a good date with HaHa!”

And almost as fast as the informant arrived, the trio were gone, leaving Twilight to shake his head and close the door behind them. Hopefully, the three of them would be safe in whatever hair brained scheme Franky had lined up and, if they were lucky, maybe it would have some kind of educational value to it.

With a deep calming breath, Twilight let those thoughts fall away. He needed to focus on his goal for tonight.

Waking up, for once, didn’t feel difficult as Yor blinked in the evening sun peaking through her curtains. Sitting up and stretching, she took stock of herself and her space, noting that her hair would need a good brushing as her shoulders giving a satisfying pop. The clock at her bedside continued to softly tick, it’s face indicating that it was roughly an hour until dinner.

It was also unusually quiet.

Especially for a weekend. Usually Anya would be playing with Bond or watching an episode of Bondman if Loid felt she had satisfactorily completed her homework. Maybe he had taken the two on a walk because she was napping or -

“…would it be alright if we had dinner tonight, just the two of us? Franky volunteered to watch Anya and Bond for the night…”

Oh.

OH!

Springing out of bed, Yor launched herself towards her closet and peered within. She should probably wear something nicer than her crumpled house dress for a date even if it was a dine in, right?

Her hands grabbed a few hangers and she brought them to her mirror, holding each one of the outfits in front of her before dismissing ones that wouldn’t work and setting aside others to reconsider. She quickly returned the rejected dresses to her closet before looking over the dresses she considered. All of them were in lighter tones than she would have preferred before meeting Anya and Loid, but since they were going to be at home and there was very little risk of stains (like blood) getting on them, it would probably be best to wear something a little different. After all, what was the point of having a dress if she wasn’t going to wear it often enough?

In the end, she chose an off the shoulder, calf-length patina colored dress paired with some comfortable flats.

The hallway beyond her room was still empty when she emerged to freshen up in the bathroom, though the sizzles and soft clanks from the direction of the kitchen told her exactly where the other occupant of the apartment was. With light steps, she rushed to her destination and closed the door quietly behind her. She was positive she hadn't been too quiet while in the bathroom and Loid must have picked up on her traverse and likely would know she was awake by the running water as she rung out a washcloth and ran it over her face.

Once her hair was brushed and neatly arranged in a low bun secured with a thin gold headband (sans the gold rose ornament) and her appearance satisfactory, she emerged once more… and nearly ran into Loid.

He stood facing the bathroom door, hand raised as if he was just about to knock when the door moved. Blue eyes blinked several times, almost confused or perhaps a bit surprised.

“Ah! Um!” She yelped, moving out of the way of the doorframe and into the hallway as best as she could. “Sorry, Loid-san, did I take too long?”

Her husband shook himself, as if forcing himself from whatever thought burned in his mind, before his reassuring smile returned to his tired face. “It’s alright,” He placated, arms relaxing at his sides. “I was just coming to let you know dinner is ready.”

“Oh!” She breathed in relief, reaching out to switch off the light. Her teeth sunk into her lip for a moment while considering her husband’s appearance. He wasn’t fully dressed up, but he had changed into a collared shirt and a darker blue vest, a tie knotted securely at his throat. Next to him she didn’t look over or under dressed, so she was thankful for that.

“Shall we?” Loid asked, gesturing out of the hallway towards the living room.

It was only then that Yor realized he had dimmed the lights. Not completely, of course, but most of the illumination was coming from the opened blinds and the evening sun. The overhead lights were off but a lamp near the end of the couch and the kitchen light remained on so that the space would be lit enough once the sun set. The table was set for two with several delicious looking and smelling food awaiting them between the settings, a bottle of wine and a candle already burning.

If she didn’t know better, she might have called it romantic. But it was most likely practical. There was no one to show off for, no real need to dress up (even if she had decided to do so on her own), and the candle could be explained away with the knowledge that the sun would soon set.

But the music threw her off.

It was faint, but Loid must have turned on the radio and tuned it into one of the music stations. Soft jazz filled the air as he held out a chair for her. She took the seat and tried to push her confusion away. Maybe he had just turned it on while he was cooking to fill the quiet and forgot to turn it off? Or hadn’t realized it was still on?

Pushing the thoughts bombarding her away, she looked at the variety of food - pork roast, potatoes, onion soup already served into individual portions, and some crusty bread for dipping - all of it making her mouth instantly water. Loid's meals were always wonderful in smell, taste and presentation, and the spread between them was a perfect example of that.

Once her husband sat in his chair, Yor smiled and nodded her head. “Thank you for this meal, Loid-san!”

Loid gave her a sweet smile and set his napkin on his lap. “You’re welcome, Yor. Please enjoy.”

Yor could barely contain herself from wiggling and humming contentedly as bite after bite of the meal was taken. They ate in a comfortable silence for several minutes, the music filling providing an easy background. She didn’t feel the need to converse but knew that the option to do so was always open to her.

It wasn’t until after Loid was halfway through the food he had put on his plate before he cleared his throat. “Yor?”

Her eyes blinked slowly, looking up at him with a fork halfway to her mouth. “Yes?”

His expression was donned with his usual seriousness but there was an emotion in his eyes that didn’t quite fit. Or maybe it was how stiff his shoulders were. Or the way his thumb and forefinger of his right hand pinched and rubbed the napkin between the pads of his fingers. Maybe to someone else he would look perfectly composed...but she could tell he wasn’t entirely calm. She straightened at that realization and lowered her fork back to her plate.

“There... something important I wanted to discuss with you,” He began slowly, carefully. “We probably should have discussed it much earlier than now but... well, circumstances have kind of pushed this.” Loid paused, taking a deep breath. “Regarding Anya’s care while I’m gone... I... I want you to be her legal guardian, Yor. I’ve discussed it with Anya and she would love for you to adopt her...if you are willing of course.”

The rapid blinking was back again and Yor isn’t quite sure if her eyes are stinging or if her tear ducts are just reacting to the amount of times her eyes close and open in the matter of a moment. The words bounced around in her mind for a moment, not truly comprehending their meaning and trying to piece it all together. She knew what those words meant but the order and way it was said was-

“Really?” She squeaked, her voice tight with emotion. “Y-You want me to adopt Anya?”

Loid seemed to be struggling with his own voice, clearing his throat again before reaching to the seat of the chair beside him and lifting a stack of papers. “I...I had the petition drafted after talking it over with Anya. She understands what this will mean - that you will continue to care for her while I’m away and even after that.” He rested the papers on a clean portion of the table away from the food. “Though I do want this to be something you think about, Yor. It wasn’t something we discussed sooner and-”

“I’d love to adopt her,” Yor whispered, cutting him off, tears stinging her eyes. “A-Are you sure you want this too, Loid-san? After all, Anya is your daughter and I never wanted to replace her real moth-”

“She’s been yours since the day you moved in, Yor,” His tone was gentle but honest, a sigh escaping his lips in that mild huff that he’d usually do when he thought about the little girl. “I’m sure she adopted you as her mother the moment she met you at the tailor shop. And, truly, Yor... I was the one to bring it up. It’s something I should have considered a while ago and discussed with both of you under better or different circumstances. But time isn’t on our side and...”

If there wasn’t food and candles between them, Yor would have reached across and held the hand that was slowly turning white knuckled as he spoke. The words seemed to flow from somewhere deep within, laced with pain and a regret she could only guess about. Maybe it had to do with his first wife, Anya’s biological mother or maybe it was because of the war or maybe another reason entirely or all of them meshed together in the perfect storm of worry and regret.

“Even though you’ve already said you’d love to adopt her, I still want you to take a few days to think about it,” Loid added, his voice thick and pained as he slid the document to her side of the table. “Read this over to understand just what you are getting into. There aren’t any surprises or something that shouldn’t be expected but it would be best for you to review it nonetheless. I know you didn’t have a choice with Yuri...and I want you to have a choice with Anya.”

Gently, her painted fingers rested over his for just a moment, smiling warmly up at him. “Thank you, Loid.”

hr>

The next morning, Twilight woke to the sound of something sliding along the floor. Within seconds he was on his feet, hands reaching for any weapon or containing object in reach to cover or hit whatever had snuck into his room - only to freeze in place once he saw the manilla envelope.

The same one he had given Yor the previous night, with a little sticky note affixed to the front in a familiar flowy script.

Loid, I’ve read and signed everything I needed to. Thank you again. -Yor

Taking a deep breath and releasing the strain from his shoulders, Twilight shook off the adrenaline and scooped the papers from the floor. All that was left now was to submit the paperwork to the proper authority…and Anya would be safe.

Then he could rest somewhat easier.

All would be fine.

It would.

Chapter Text

Handler was looking through reports, lips pursed at the information. Things all over were constantly teetering on the verge of something more dangerous, but since the declaration of war, things here and in Westalis seemed to teeter even farther. Internal unrest, protests and police brutality, curfews issue in certain cities… the list went on.

And what's worse was that there was no real telling how long the foreign conflict would be. Ostania's ally was fighting against a power of almost equal strength but both sides had allies, Ostania just happened to be the most recent one to join the fray. And that was dangerous. With so many parties involved, more harm to the local inhabitants was a certainty.

WISE currently had no boots on the ground and, while that would certainly change once Loid Forger was deployed, any information they currently found was tainted with misinformation. The media was fairly divided on the topic, with discussion focusing mostly on the division at home rather than a patriot front against a singular enemy. This wasn't too unusual to Sylvia. The idea of open conflict was something that most adults of Ostania had lived through and lost during the war with Westalis and, while rebuilding the nation had been almost completely accomplished, the scars on humanity from it were still painfully obvious. The original Red Circus protests had shown that. The current anti war protesters proved that. The way the president had seemed so reluctant to announce Ostania’s involvement in the war solidified it.

Ostania didn't want war…and was still being forced into it.

It would only be a matter of time before draftees were forcefully escorted to training for war. And no doubt the SSS was preparing for that.

An envelope plopped on her desk drawing Handler from her thoughts. A red eyebrow lifted as her gaze moved towards the new arrival. Gray met violet as Nightfall stared her down with her usual blank expression…though the slight aggression from the slap of the manilla envelope was unusual for the young agent.

“Good day, or perhaps good evening, Tobari,” Handler greeted her, straightening in her chair and setting down the report she had been reading. Ring donned fingers rested atop the envelope but didn't lift it just yet. “What is this?”

Nightfall's visible eye remained burning into the wall behind Handler and the thinness of her lips parted after barely a second. “Senpai requested I deliver this to you. He would have delivered it himself but he needed to pick up Anya Forger from school.”

Intrigued, deceptively delicate fingers lifted the envelope and cleanly broke the seal with the letter opener nearby. Carefully she removed the papers within, eyes scanning the words.

The first page was a note directly from Twilight in the precise type he used for his usual reports. It was short, to the point, and hidden in three layers of code.

Please put this into STRIX's file.

Curious, the Iron Lady removed the note and scanned the following document.

The official seal atop the first page drew her attention. It's ink and design were as familiar to her as most codes though it held no oddities found with a forgery. It was raised the proper amount, affixed in just the right spot with the right angles. Either it was an extremely good forgery or it was the real deal.

And after reading through the document, she was sure of it's authenticity.

Twilight had ensured that Yor Briar adopted Anya.

With a slight huff, she slid the document back into the envelope before walking resolutely to the correct filing cabinet, entering a dial code before opening the drawer and sliding the envelope within. Once done, she walked back to her desk and sat back. Her face was a careful neutral as she turned her attention back to Nightfall.

“Thank you,” she expressed to the agent, a curious lift to her eyebrow still present. “Was there something else, Tobari?”

Something in the younger agent's expression shifted. Not quite into a frown but not a very friendly expression either. Not that most people would have noticed, but it was Sylvia's job to recognize these changes and what they meant from her agents. Nightfall might be the hardest one to read, but she could still be read if one knew the tells.

“...Regardless of if it's my place or not,” the agent finally decided to answer in her flat voice. “I wholeheartedly disagree with how STRIX is being handled.”

Bingo.

“Tell me, agent,” Sylvia implored, leaning back in her chair and eyeing her agent with as kind of an expression as she could. “Do you have the gift of Foresight? The ability to see things even our superiors had no idea were coming?”

Nightfall blinked at that, a slight frown forming between her brows as she met Sylvia's gaze at last. “I don't understand…”

With a heavy sigh she let her shoulders relax and her head drooped slightly, showing the exhaustion that had plagued her for the past few weeks. It wasn't something she should have let her subordinate see, but maybe it's something Nightfall needed to in order to understand the severity of the situation. “I wasn't exaggerating when I explained the other day that we were on the back foot regarding this conflict,” she began wearily. “All methods of intelligence gathering didn't catch wind of this until it was too late. We can't afford to continue in that trajectory regarding all of this. So when I received word that Dr. Forger was being called to the front, it made sense to let him go. It would be more suspicious for him to run and could disrupt Anya's progress more so if the military police or SSS gets involved. STRIX already has three fronts being-”

“Shouldered by a child barely able to pass basic math and a skittish woman barely able to manage a home. Neither of whom are truly qualified to carry such a mission!” Nightfall interrupted.

The Iron Lady's eyes narrowed as her posture straightened at that, rising seamlessly to her feet. Nightfall didn't quite flinch or back off, with her gaze stubbornly on the desk, looking almost like a schoolgirl ready to be reprimanded. No apology or retraction came.

“Put the girl in my care,” the white haired woman stated resolutely, her eyes lifting, flashing, daring her handler to deny her. “She'll be a scholar in no time. Then we can shut down Strix, recall Tasogare from danger and -”

Oh.

Oh, Tobari…

“I'm afraid that's no longer possible,” Handler silenced her with a soft voice and a lifted hand. “Mrs. Forger has officially adopted Anya and is now her legal guardian.”

Nightfall's visible eye widened considerably at that. “...What?”

“Tasogare informed me that the paperwork is already complete,” Sylvia explained gently. “Maybe we could arrange for you to tutor her but-”

The agent didn’t let her finish, spinning on her heel and marching towards the exit with a determination that seemed to ooze from her. An aura following in her wake, one that likely spelt trouble. With a heavy sigh, Handler got to her feet and walked after her, snagging the woman’s arm before she made it to the elevator. Nightfall spun to face her, her visible eye wide in an almost sinister glance.

“Stand down, Tobari,” Handler ordered, her voice low but filled with authority. “Strix is Tasogare’s responsibility and he may do with it what he wishes to ensure the completion of the mission.”

“But he didn’t take the b-more logical option,” Nightfall practically growled, voice in a hush that likely wouldn’t be heard beyond the two.

“You don’t know that.” Internally, Handler sighed. Why is working with these two such a hassle? “And it’s not your place to determine it anyway. Strix isn’t your mission, Tobari. Let him do his job.”

Nightfall glared for a long moment. “Is that an order, ma’am?”

“Yes.”

Silence descended on the two for several long moments, eyes locked, the tension thick. While at times Nightfall’s stubbornness and dedication to all things related to Agent Twilight was cute on most occasions, at this very moment Handler wondered just what was going on in the younger woman’s head.

“Very well,” she said after a full minute passed before grumbling. “If he wants to be stupid, I won’t save him from himself.”

Sylvia could feel an early onset headache as she was sure that was a lie.

The knock at the door came suddenly, jolting Twilight out of his review of the paperwork he’d received from the recruiter. He glanced up at the clock, eyes narrowing at the time. Anya wasn’t expected home for at least an hour and Yor had a key to get in…but had he locked the door in the first place? Yuri had only ever rung the bell once and that had been during his first visit. So then -

Bang. Bang.

Again the sound echoed through the apartment. This time, Bond rose to his feet from beside the chair Twilight sat in and walked towards the door. His pace wasn’t hurried, but the fact that he moved only after the second knock rather than before the first knock got the spy to his feet and followed after him. Granted he didn't growl at the person on the other side...

With a gesture for Bond to remain on silent guard and a hand subtly resting on the pistol hidden in his waistband, Twilight peered through the door viewer.

Just beyond the door was a familiar shade of platinum blonde, white as snow.

White as frost.

With a barely audible breath, Twilight closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, hoping that this was related to a work emergency and not something trivial. Why the hell is she here in the first place? When had invading his entryway become something that she did without care? What couldn’t she say via a message or discuss at work the following day?

Spies are supposed to have limited interaction...

Slowly letting out the breath, he turned the doorknob, plastering on Loid Forger’s tired but pleasant expression. “Fiona-kun,” He greeted, tone barely civil. “Good day. H-”

“I need to speak with you regarding an urgent matter, Senpai,” She cut him off, her voice cool as usual but her visible eye boring into him with an intensity he couldn’t parse. “Privately.”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed at that. “I was just about to take Bond for a walk. Would that suffice?” he answered, though his lips conveyed a separate message. “Not within the apartment. A walk is the only way I will discuss anything right now.”

Nightfall’s eye narrowed even further, practically to a slit before she nodded. “Very well.”

Wondering just how long this would take, Twilight stepped back within the apartment and wrote out a brief note for Yor, just in case she got back before he did, grabbed his jacket and Bond’s leash before clipping it to the dog and leading him from the apartment. Swiftly locking the door behind him, he turned his attention to his protege and nodded.

The woman took her cue and the two walked out of the building in a perceived amicable way. Bond stood between the two spies, his lumbering mass acting as an effective barrier to suggest to all that would see them that the two were not supposed to be close, a respectful distance for a doctor and his assistant, one with which they could hold a semi private conversation.

Not that Nightfall was being particularly talkative as they made their way down the street. It wasn’t until they reached the second block that the woman finally made a sound.

“You allowed Yor Briar to adopt Anya Forger!”

It was less a question and more a demand for clarification. He could almost feel his eyes ready to roll in their sockets because what use was this particular information to her? Nightfall’s role with STRIX was purely for support, not to be an active participant or even to be entangled with Anya or Yor in any way. It wasn’t her business.

“It’s the natural progression of this arrangement,” He stated plainly, almost flatly, hoping she would get the hint and drop this like she should.

“Bullshit.” She hissed, barely above a whisper. “You know she would have benefited more-”

“She wouldn’t have,” Twilight cut her off. As he spoke, Bond leaned hard into his leg as they walked, separating the spies further from each other if only a few centimeters difference. “According to all the papers that have been brought to my attention -”

“What the hell does that matter?” Nightfall asked, turning her eyes to glare at him, her hair falling over her mouth in a way to disguise her lips. “What does that have to do with the mission parameters? How does that-”

“Children perform better when their environment is stable,” He stated evenly. “Having a guarantee of parental security will help ensure that she can worry less about shifting family dynamics and focus on -”

“All she needs is discipline! She would be perfect if she had been disciplined correctly from the start!”

Twilight stopped dead in his tracks, turning to stare at the woman with narrowed eyes. It was probably very suspicious to simply stop in the middle of the sidewalk like that, but he could practically feel the lightning crackling between the two of them as she glared right back at him, daring him to contradict her, daring him to admit that STRIX was a failure and had been from the moment he found Anya.

And he wasn’t going to do that. He hadn’t put time, money, blood, sweat, and his health into this mission only for someone other than his superior to keep telling him how to do his damn job. “I will not take Anya from the only mother she’s ever known while in my care,” He hissed, eyes narrowing further and his mouth pulling into a snarl. “The mother that has offered her, without reservation, all the maternal affection she could ask for without the obligation to do so. The mother that has protected her heaven knows how many times when I was not there. The mother that would surrender anything, even her very being, to ensure that Anya is safe, loved, and happy.”

Nightfall continued to glare at him, unimpressed and Twilight wanted to pull his hair out or shake her for being so…so…

For as articulate as he was, he couldn't quite describe his mentee and her antics.

He straightened with a breath to cool the rising heat of his temper, voice lowering to a deadly whisper as his grip tightened on Bond’s leash. “I’m not sure why you are so hell bent on doing whatever you can to force your way into a role I’ve told you doesn’t need to be filled. You are a great assistant, but that’s the only role I’ve needed from you. I don’t want anything further than that.”

For the first time in several years, Twilight saw a flash of an emotion cross Nightfall’s face. The woman that had locked down her expression back when he was training her suddenly cracked, her eyes snapping open as a breeze brushed her hair out of her face. She looked…hurt. As if his words had stabbed her through the chest and he was standing there coated in her blood.

Maybe that was too harsh… He thought, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm down further. “I’d hate for you to waste your talents in a role you don’t feel fulfilled in, Fiona-kun,” He continued, softening his voice and stance to convey how genuine the statement was, that while he wasn't sorry for his words and that he was sorry for how they hurt her. “Perhaps the position of my assistant isn’t fulfilling for you and you should seek out greener pastures. Away from…all of this.”

His protege didn’t move. Her eyes didn’t blink, breath seemingly frozen in her lungs as the fractions of seconds passed, before slowly - as slowly as a glacier moves - her expression tempered back into its usual aloofness, back to the look he was painfully familiar with. Hidden. Frozen. Unbreakable.

Even if his insides were twisting at the thought that he had done just that. That he had broken something within her. Something that he didn’t understand.

“Very well,” the icy voice answered. “I will speak with our superiors. Please consider this my notice of the termination of my role.”

Maybe if they hadn’t been spies, maybe if he really was Loid Forger and she really was Fiona Frost this would have been a more painful experience. Maybe if they were friends as well as colleagues he would have felt some level of sadness that this was how that relationship was breaking. Maybe if Fiona hadn't been so hostile to Yor and Anya, he would have regretted sending a fellow spy away.

But for the first time since Nightfall had shown up unannounced at his doorstep before the Campbelldon mission, he felt like he could breathe again. With Fiona Frost no longer Dr. Forger’s assistant, he wouldn't have to worry about her poking her nose in on Strix while he was gone. Anya and Yor could go on as normal. Franky and whoever was next assigned to assist Dr. Forger could keep tabs on them if need be and most likely in a much more subtle or genuinely helpful way. Slowly, he nodded. “I’ll inform them that I accept your request. Thank you, Frost-san.”

Without a word of acknowledgement, Agent Nightfall turned and walked away.

Even with all the preparations, the day of departure arrived way too fast for Yor's liking. Maybe this is what people truly meant by “how time flies” or “in the blink of an eye”, but it was still too uncomfortable for the Forger family.

Yuri was the first to depart, leaving a full week before Loid did. Yor had spent the three days leading up to her brother’s departure at his apartment helping him pack and clean. There wasn’t much, as most of the furniture was part of his landlord’s pre-furnishing, but his bed and a desk he had bought himself needed to be moved to storage along with his own personal belongings. Yor would have been happy to hold onto everything for him, but apparently the Foreign Affairs office had already given him a storage unit for the duration of his time away from Ostania, all at no charge to him.

It was immensely generous and Yor refused to argue the topic, even if she would have been able to offer the same thing to him by using Loid’s room.

They spent dinner together, just the two of them, with a pot of their mother’s stew between them. A little taste of their childhood before being separated again for a while. This was only temporary, Yor had to remind herself over and over again as she ate the meat and vegetables.

“Yuri?” She asked, breaking the warm quiet between them. His red eyes shot up to meet her’s, happy and curious…just like when he was a little boy. “Do… would it be alright if I saw you off at the train station tomorrow?”

Her brother straightened, his spoon dropping to the bowl as his expression morphed into something slightly closed off. Something a little more…worried. “I - um… Well… I mean, my departure is at 5 am, Nee-san, and -”

“That’s alright! I don’t mind an early wake up,” She reassured quickly. “I don’t know how well I’ll be able to sleep tonight and I might already be up and it would just… I just want to see you before you leave.”

That worry softened in his face, transforming into something sadder. “I understand. It’s just… I’d rather we say our goodbyes here rather than surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the station. It’ll be loud with all the others from my unit and chaotic. I wouldn’t want to leave you like that.”

Yor looked down at her soup once more, that ugly feeling rising again in her chest. But she pushed it away. She wasn’t going to let herself be angry at him before he left. Taking a deep breath, she allowed the feeling to wash over her and fade away. His reasoning was sound and she was sure that if their places had been reversed she would have felt the same way. “Okay. If that's what you want... But I’ll be thinking of you and hoping that you are safe the whole time.”

There were stars in his happy tear filled eyes at that. “And I’ll be thinking of you too, nee-san! Always! Even after I come home.”

She couldn’t help a small chuckle as she reached across the little table to pat her brother’s hand. “I’d rather you focus on the tasks you are given so you don’t get hurt and can accomplish all the things you are assigned.”

He very quickly began to pout as he put another spoonful of soup into his mouth. “I can multitask,” He grumbled and Yor couldn’t help the laugh that exploded from her chest.

When the food was long finished and the dishes and cutlery placed in the basket she brought with her, the clock nearing 9pm, Yor decided now would be the best time to leave. She had spent as much time as she was willing to and her brother needed rest before his early morning departure.

They stood in the entryway of his apartment and she looked her brother over, memorizing him as if she hadn’t already done that for years now. His hair was cut now into a style within regulations - one that he had grumbled about for days after getting - but it made him look older, more mature. Like the man he really was. A man she was proud to call her brother.

She opened her arms and smiled as best she could. Yuri wasted no time entering the embrace and holding her tightly. Yor restrained herself from squeezing him, keeping the hug to about an eighth of her regular strength and was pleased when his ribs didn’t creek under the pressure. “I’m so proud of you, Yuri,” She whispered into his shoulder. “And I love you so much.”

Yuri’s grip on her tightened. “I love you too, Nee-san,” He answered, a little teary. “I’ll write as often as I can! Every week if possible.”

She couldn’t help the watery laugh that escaped her at that. “And I’ll write you back for every letter.” The clock soon struck the top of the hour and she reluctantly released her hold on him. Reaching up, she patted his cheek and ruffled his hair. “Stay safe, okay?”

“I will. I promise.”

Yuri may have been able to deter Yor from seeing him off at the train station, but Anya was a force of nature when it came to her insistance that Yor, Bond and herself had to see her father off. It didn’t matter if they had to be at the station before the sun was up or that it was on a school morning or that she would have to miss Bondman the night before in order to get enough sleep. Anya was going to be there to say goodbye to her father before he left for war.

And Twilight was very reluctant to deny her that.

In fact, he hadn't been able to deny her much at all since the announcement. They had picked up so many slices of cake together, gone to the park every afternoon when it was nice out, had let Franky or Mr. Authen tutor her in her studies rather than himself so she could spend more time playing with him, and had - very reluctantly - allowed her to sleep in his bed.

Anya was a pretty active sleeper. If she wasn't moving around hugging his arm or climbing on his face, she was muttering about something happening in her dreams. He could only assume they were good dreams, though he would never admit -even under torture- that he did sleep better with her snuggled into his side or chest. Even if his arm was sore when he woke or if his nightshirt was covered in drool, he woke from his rest more energized than he had in years.

For once, not from adrenaline.

But as he straightened out his uniform, giving himself a once over in the mirror, Twilight couldn't stop the flood of anxieties that hadn't stopped since he finally caved into letting the three Forgers join him on this little journey. The sun had yet to grace the horizon and likely wouldn't until he was well on his way. Anya would likely be tired on the way back. He should probably call Franky and -

“ChiChi!” Anya's voice echoed through the door a little too loudly for the early hour. “Did the toilet swallow you? Do you need HaHa to rescue you?”

That was a mortifying thought, forcing him to stop fussing with his tie and walk to the exit. With a huff, he opened the door and looked down at the girl with a slight frown. “You shouldn't be yelling this early in the morning.”

His daughter, already dressed in the outing dress he had laid out the night before, looked up at him unimpressed. “Well you were taking forever and Anya needs to take care of busy-ness.”

“Ah.” He corrected, stepping aside for the girl to enter. “My apologies.”

The girl practically ran past him, her little Mary Jane's making louder clacks than he would like on the floor. With a sigh, he closed the door for her and made his way out to the living room. He had already brought out his bags, neatly packed and sitting on the armchair he usually used. Everything within was meticulously packed to the military’s standards. Nothing within should give any ounce of suspicion when he arrived at training, a precaution Handler had agreed was necessary. He was going in without backup and couldn’t afford-

“Loid-san?”

Yor’s unexpected whisper broke through the swirl of his thoughts. Twilight met her honey red gaze and a lump formed in his throat.

There wasn’t anything strange or earth shattering about his wife’s appearance that morning. She was already dressed in her thicker red coat, a scarf looped around her neck and tucked within, silky black hair tucked securely into the soft fabric, framing her face like a luscious halo. But it was the apprehension in her eyes that gave him pause. Is she going to be alright with the trip to the train station? She’s already ready to go and I promised Anya so I can’t-

A hesitant but firm hand rested on his chest lightly, snapping him back to awareness. Yor was right in front of him now, her fingers dancing along the length of his tie, putting it to rights. It wasn’t something she’d done in the past but maybe he had worried her enough that she felt the need to do so. He froze nonetheless at the gesture, holding his breath until she moved away, his eyes wide as he took her in…before softening as her gaze met his.

Her mouth opened for a moment before closing in a smile with a slight nod. She moved away from him, as swift and silent as a ghost, as if she would vanish from his life just as she had entered it.

It was an irrational thought and he shook it away as such, straightening his shoulders and trying to arrange his features into something more calm and appreciative. He wasn't sure if he accomplished that as well as he would like but Yor’s smile didn’t falter, so it must have been convincing enough.

“Thank you,” He said simply.

She only seemed able to nod in reply and he could only guess what held her tongue. He hoped it would loosen before Anya joined them and they made their journey to the train station.

After taking a calming breath, Twilight grabbed his jacket and overcoat that lay over the arm of his chair. The military issued item easily slid over the uniform, hues matching flawlessly, ranks and pins in order. A belt snuggly tightened at his waist adding to the fit before the overcoat covered it all. Lastly, he would need to don his cap, but that wouldn’t be necessary to put on until after they left the apartment.

He refused to let his thoughts spiral as the silence lingered. He had a job to do, a mission. Even if part of that assignment meant temporarily abandoning STRIX and the family he had built, he would come back. This wasn't the end. They would be fine.

Everything will be fine.

“Agent Bond and Agent Anya reporting for doopy!” Anya cheered with a salute, a little louder than he would have liked. “Ready to begin mis-shun esh-court Agent ChiChi to his new mis-shun!”

Twilight didn't stop the smile that pulled at his lip as he knelt down to fix her scarf and clip Bond's leash. This girl and her imagination… “Thank you, Anya. Let me just grab my bags and we'll be off.”

The train station was very loud.

Not just audibly loud, but everyone's thoughts sounded like they needed to compensate for how loud the conversations around them were.

Anya now acutely understood why her father didn't want her and her mother to come with him. But they had to be here. Bond's vision told her so. It was for world peace. Saying goodbye to her father was of the utmost importance. More important than Bondman. More important than peanuts.

And so it was imperative that she helped that vision along, even if everyone was so loud.

Fortunately, her parents' thoughts were fairly quiet within the station. Her father was ever methodical, finding the train car he needed to be at as soon as he arrived, pinching his boarding ticket a few times from his breast pocket and asking multiple times if Anya was doing alright with the crowd. Once they found the train car her father would be riding on, the family stopped and turned to look at each other. Anya’s wide eyes flitted between her parents as they were silent for a moment, her father shifting his bags and her mother wrapping the end of Bond’s leash around her wrist a little too tightly.

“Um! HaHa…” Anya began, reaching out a hand towards her mother, but her father’s gloved hand was faster.

Twilight cleared his throat as he gently unwound Bond’s leash before placing it in Yor’s hand once more. The dog’s tail began to wag and Anya could see the static clearing in his mind.

Was this it? Was this -

But her mother pulled her hand away, tucking it and the end of Bond’s leash into her jacket pocket and burying her nose into the scarf she wore. She looked away and almost took a half step back.

A loud whistle echoed through the station followed by a few shouts on the intercom, something Anya couldn't quite understand, but her parents were stiff at the announcement.

It’s time.

Dozens of thoughts of people thinking the same thing around them bounced and bumped into her mind, making the girl sway slightly as she blinked and focused on her parents. After a moment, Yor took a deep breath before placing a hand on Anya’s shoulder and guiding her towards Twilight.

Twilight knelt down to her level, his blue eyes serious but soft at the edges, a very small smile pulling at his lip. “It’s almost time for me to go, Anya,” He said loud enough to be heard.

It’s time for me to go... Not for forever, but it’s time for me to go...

The words took a moment to sink in, but once they did, pressure built up behind Anya’s eyes and her lips began to quiver. She had promised she would be brave in seeing her father off, but with it being all too real, even if he said he would be coming home, it was suddenly all too much.

Just like that day in the cafe, tears burst from her as Anya flung herself into her father’s arms. His uniform was a bit scratchy, but that barely registered through the sadness that filled her. Her little arms wrapped around his neck and tears flowed down her cheeks. She sobbed as his hand rubbed her back, the gentle whisper of his breath trying to soothe her. But he didn’t tell her to be quiet, even in his mind.

It’s good for her to cry. Reassure her through the crying. She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.

Another whistle sounded and she heard her father take a deep breath. A second later, she was off the ground and securely in his arms. She continued to cling to him for several moments as he walked, probably closer to the train, possibly to get in line to board. But at no point did he pull her off of him.

“I’ve got you, Anya,” He whispered gently into her hair, hand still stroking the back of her dress. “My good girl. My brave girl. You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. I promise.”

Soon the tears quieted and she lifted her face from his shoulder, wiping the wetness from her face with chubby hands. She felt her father’s chuckle more than heard it, reverberating through her tiny body that was still pressed to his chest. A larger hand helped clear the water from her cheeks with a soft handkerchief before a warm kiss was pressed to her forehead.

The gesture startled her, watery green eyes blinking open and meeting her father’s clear blue ones. There was something whispering in the back of his mind, a thought so faint she wasn’t entirely sure she could hear it correctly, not with all the other thoughts surrounding her. But even if she couldn’t make out the specific words, she couldn’t help but feel warmed by the sentiment of them.

“I love you too, Papa,” She whispered, wrapping her arms once more around him.

He froze, but it was only for a moment. His mind silenced. His grip tightened...and then he pressed his face into her own little shoulder, giving her one more squeeze before passing her into her mother’s arms. A hand patted her head and he smiled at her. “I'll see you soon, Anya.”

“Bye-bye, Papa!” She cried, reaching a grabbing hand towards him. Fingers he let fold into his for a moment before the next whistle blew.

A moment later he was on the train.

Resolved to somehow listen for him until the train departed, Anya strained her power to hear his thoughts. After months of listening and memorizing his inner voice, it wasn’t too difficult but she hid her face in her mother’s shoulder just in case her nose bled. She still needed to help with Bond’s vision.

Is she crying again? Would it be best to go home now? Her mother’s thoughts interrupted her search for her father and she clung tighter to Yor’s neck.

“Can we stay here, Mama?” She asked, nuzzling into her mother’s shoulder. “Just for a little longer? Anya wants to see the train leave.”

Yor froze at that, just like Twilight had, but she recovered after a moment and began rubbing the little girl’s back in soothing circles. “Of course, sweetie.”

As people separated from their loved ones and boarded the train, the volume around them slowly diminished. Where before there had been lots of talking and smooching and hugging, now there were more sniffles and soft crying. A few minutes later, Anya was able to lift her head from Yor’s shoulder and look at the train.

By the windows of the train cars, a few men poked their heads or torsos out of the opened glass, reaching out to embrace or kiss a woman waiting for them on the other side. Behind them, Anya could see other soldiers helping the man out the window or guiding him back in so they could have a turn to say a final farewell. It was chaotic and tearful but it also looked familiar.

Bond’s ears suddenly perked up at the same time as a familiar voice entered her mind.

Damnit, Twilight! You didn’t say goodbye to Yor!

“Mama! Mama!” Anya yelped, pointing a finger towards one of the windows of the train car her father entered. “Look! It’s Papa!”

Just as Yor turned to look, Twilight’s head popped out of the window. His blue eyes searched the boarding platform, his thoughts passing quickly through his head wondering if the three of them had already left - until his eyes fell on her mother. The relief there was short lived as another whistle filled the station. A hand reached out to beckon Yor closer.

Her mother hesitated, her mind wondering if it was safe to go so close to the edge of the platform with Bond, but the dog made the choice for her. Bond practically pranced over to where Twilight was, leaning up on his front paws to reach up as high as he could. The man’s lips quirked upward as he reached down and patted the dog’s head.

“Be a good boy, Bond. I’m counting on you to take good care of our girls,” He said with a little sternness in his voice. The dog woofed at him before putting down his front paws and sitting at the platform edge.

Anya and Yor were there now and now was the time for the vision. It had to be!

“I’m sorry,” Twilight began. “I was so focused on Anya that-”

“It’s okay,” her mother cut him off, swaying slightly with the girl in her arms. “Anya should always be your priority and we’ll be alright. Not-Not that we won’t miss you or -”

Another whistle cut her mother off and she looked ready to back away, afraid that the train was going to start moving, when Twilight’s hand reached out and cupped her chin.

To Anya, it was as if everything came to a standstill, her green eyes widening as she took in the sight. Her father pulled her mother closer.

Unlike in the vision, Anya could hear - or rather see - her father’s thoughts. He was thinking about how all the other soldier wives and girlfriends received final kisses and wondered what it would be like to kiss Yor. She could see the scene in his mind: pulling her as close as he could manage through the window, maybe shifting his grip to her shoulder or waist if he could so she was close enough to him and pressing his lips to hers. It was the goodbye her Mama deserved.

But...

Twilight didn’t exactly pull away, but his thoughts changed. That’s selfish. Yor would never want that... she deserves a real kiss from someone who can love her the way she should. Not like this.

Instead, just like he had with Anya, he pressed his lips to Yor’s forehead in a soft, quiet kiss.

It lasted for only a second, just long enough for it to be real, just long enough for her mother to realize what happened.

The last shrill whistle blew followed by a loud man’s shout. “All Aboard!”

Twilight pulled away, his whole face looking...sad with a smile. It wasn’t something Anya could truly describe, but she was sure that it was an expression that would be burned into her memory. “Goodbye, Yor. Thank you for everything.”

It’s a different goodbye from the one he gave Anya, his voice strained as if fighting himself from saying something else, something he won’t allow even that very soft voice in the back of his head to say.

The train was suddenly moving, the creaking of the wheels a warning to everyone near the train to pull away, that the people in the train needed to get into their seats.

Before doing that, Yor reached up and grabbed her husband’s hand. “We’ll be here waiting for you!” She said urgently. “We’ll write as soon as you send us an address!”

“I -”

“Forger!”

Loid Forger squeezed his wife’s hand and let go, disappearing into the train and away from view. Moments later, the train was moving away from Berlint, off to bring it’s passengers to war.

This was not the end, Bond knew. Anya knew.

But that didn’t stop the renewed tears that fell from their eyes as the three watched the train disappear from view.

Chapter Text

When one steps out into war, a person can never truly forget it. The sounds of bullets, of explosions, of tanks and warplanes, the creak of buildings that threatened to topple from a bomb, the screams of the injured… The smell of smoke that never goes away, char of earth and flesh, blood pouring over fingers attempting to staunch the flow… Dust in the lungs, grease under fingernails, never a full night's sleep, a gun within reach while on duty and the threat of a firefight always at the edge of one's mind…

It's hell.

A hell he had known before under another name, in another time. Long before Loid Forger, before Agent Twilight.

As a young man - barely into manhood, more child than man - it had been all he'd known. Had been all he lived for, for the vengeance boiling in his blood hot and demanding him to snuff out life after life of those who had destroyed his childhood peace and murdered his mother.

But as a man, one who had seen the price of war and all its aftershocks, surrounded by those sounds and smells once more… he hated war. Hated the marches, the groans, the shots, the mortars, the screams… there was no perfect guarantee that every shot missed a civilian and that weighed heavily on his mind.

War was the same and yet so different to him now. Maybe it was the grace that came with age, no longer seeing the war games as mere “games” but as a failure of those in charge to keep escalations from getting to this point. For every young man who crossed his tent as a field doctor, every injury he had to stabilize and treat, he felt a new kind of fire - of regret, of failure. Even if he hadn't been aware of this conflict's origin or impact on Ostania before that damned announcement, he couldn't stop the self loathing that came from the knowledge that this was reality.

So Twilight did everything he could to turn the tide towards peace. Both as Agent Twilight and as Loid Forger. Forger closed wounds, saved every life he could and Agent Twilight sought out information, anything that could save his comrades - both Ostanian and Westali - from losing their lives. It was difficult to find time to obtain information in a way that he wouldn't be missed, but he managed.

“Forger!” A voice called from the triage tent opening and the spy tensed reflexively, ready to grab whatever medical equipment was needed. But when he turned, all he found was a solitary member of his platoon - one Sargent Thomas - poking his head in and waving about a set of envelopes. “Mail call.”

Taking a small breath, Twilight put down the roll of gauze he had been storing and marched over to the man, accepting the envelopes. “Thank you, Sargent.” He let Loid's grateful smile pull at his lip, even as his chest tightened once glancing at the handwriting on the top envelope.

“Sure thing, doc.” Thomas nodded with a smile of his own. “Why don't you take a break and look those over? I'm sure we'll be able to find you if something comes up.”

Internally, Twilight winced. It was apparently very obvious to those around him that whenever Loid Forger received letters from back home he was extremely eager to read them. So much so that he had noticed that on mail call days not only would his mail be hand delivered to him, but he was often dismissed for a time afterwards, so long as an emergency didn't come up. While he did use this to his advantage - both as a much needed break and a potential time to slip away to gather intelligence - it still troubled him that this…reaction of his to the letters was something he couldn't help.

He tried though. Every time mail call came around he did his best to focus on his work, to tuck away the letters in his breast pocket and button it up so he wouldn't be tempted to cut open the envelope and devour the contents. The longest he had managed to wait had been all of 10 minutes and that was without a medical emergency stopping or interrupting him. More times than he'd like to think about, he’d simply get his mail and while walking back to his bunk or desk, find himself already opening the letters and beginning to read them.

Every time he tells himself it's because he needs to know what's happening with Strix. That he needs to know any immediate changes in orders. That if something urgent has come up he needs to adapt to the new parameters of his assignments. But deep down, in a place he doesn't allow himself to ponder too long, he knows that he's just deluding himself. That all he really wants is a sign that he needs to come home right away. It's not something he wants to think about. Not something he wants to believe…but after months of being out in the field, he knows it's true. He just wants to go home.

Shaking his head to dispel the persistent desire, Twilight gave a respectful salute to his Sargent before going off to do as suggested. His issued boots made a soft sound as he trekked from the camp to his favorite reading spot at this encampment. It was about a three minute walk from the medical tent and within shouting distance if an emergency came in. The ground was still a bit moist from a recent rain so he opted to lean against a tree rather than sitting beneath it.

Three letters had been addressed to him this week, two with a familiar flowy script on the envelope while the other had a precise print more akin to a typewriter. It would probably be best to start with the latter, so he slipped out a small pocket knife and sliced cleanly through the envelope. A brief scan of the contents had him locate the code within and it took only a moment to decrypt it.

"Loidman,

So far things are going well here. Things are about the same as of my last letter. The little squirt is still making progress, your elderly neighbors have practically adopted your wife and daughter, and all is quiet at the tobacco stand."

Good… Good…

Franky’s letter carried on in the same way for an extra paragraph or two, mentioning at least one failed date the poor informant had, but there's nothing between the lines to suggest a change that would demand he request leave and immediately return home. Even if his eyes greedily hunt for it, searching through ever square inch for hidden codes.

Nothing.

No order change.

Just stay put. Hold the line.

Message received.

"Oh, and that lawyer reached out to me the other day, the one who looked over Anya’s paperwork. Just checking in and we grabbed a drink together. Pretty nice… for a lawyer. Anyway! Everything with Anya’s paperwork is still tight and there’s been no noise about that changing. If something does come up, I’ll let you know and our lawyer friend will be Yor’s first line of defense. Pro-bono from what I was told. Not bad all things considered (And I fully expect eternal gratitude for getting a pro-bono lawyer on retainer, you son of a bitch).

Take care of yourself. -F"

Twilight rolled his eyes, but knew he would thank Franky regardless should the lawyer be necessary. With news that all was well on the Homefront, he felt his shoulders relax somewhat at that knowledge. It was good that WISE was holding its own… even if it meant he was still to continue on here alone with the expectation of relaying more information he could about the warfront.

It was tiresome, thankless work… but someone had to do it.

With a heavy sigh he tucked that letter into his pocket and delicately sliced open the smaller of the remaining letters. Within was a pair of papers folded into each other. His fingers slid the paper out carefully and unfolded it as if it was one of the most precious things in the world.

Which it honestly was.

"Hi Papa!"

Something warm settled into his chest at the salutation. Unlike her first several letters, which had required Yor to provide a translation of their daughter's scribble, he was now able to decipher most of the contents and guess at the rest based on context clues. If there was one positive to this deployment, it was that he got to witness Anya's improvement in real time.

"I did really REALLY good on my classic language test! I even beat Arnold's score this time for highest marks! Ji Jiji gave me a big hug before the Stella ser cer party and told me to keep studying hard.

And I didn't get a Tornitus for my math this time! I didn't do super good on it, still… but I didn't fail it! Math is really hard… how can you like it so much Papa?"

Twilight reread that part several times, the intense feeling of pride warming his chest. She did it! She got another Stella! That wonderful, amazing girl. His amazing girl! He'd need to write her back immediately after this and tell her as much.

"Mama let me have a slice of cake as a reward but I couldn't share it with Bond since it had chocolate on it. Poor Bond was sad. But Mama bought him a special bone from the meat people so he was happy after! It was a good cake…but your cakes are better."

Something like longing tightened in his chest at that, a wish that he could be home and make cakes or food with her right now. It would be well before dawn right now back home in Ostania, the glacial chill of winter soon making way to spring. But his orders remained the same. Even with progress in Strix, he was to remain here.

Anya's letter carried on a bit, regaling him in very little words about her recent trip shopping with Becky and that Second Son was still a brat (her word, not his) but he was getting better. But it was the end of the letter that made his eyes sting.

"In art class, Sensei told us to draw our families. Even if it was for a school project, once the voting was done we could take them home. I want you to keep it, Papa. So you don't forget us, don't forget what home is.

I love you lots and lots Papa!

Anya

P.S.: Mama let me play with her lipstick so here's a kiss from me! You gotta put it on your cheek for it to work, Papa. It's very im-port-ant."

Twilight almost laughed out loud at that, his fingers brushing along the bright sloppy pink kiss stain on the paper. He can imagine the scene in his mind. Maybe Yor had been putting on her makeup for the day and the idea struck Anya. She probably begged and pleaded with her mother to be permitted to learn how to put on makeup like her Mama. It probably didn't take much, knowing Yor. She didn't completely spoil their daughter, but she would cave to some of her whims when pressed.

He had always found that endearing… of both of them.

He shuffled the pages to view the second page. As promised, the picture she had made for art class lay nestled behind the letter, creased twice to fit within the envelope, but otherwise pristine as if Anya had held it very carefully in her hands from school. The portrait wasn’t neat nor were the lines clean, but Anya had always been purposeful in her color choices, which he had learned to decipher after her cow drawing.

The black atop a pale face with bright red eyes was clearly Yor, dressed in a lopsided red hourglass that likely represented her sweater dress. A pink haired Anya figure with bright green eyes and a black triangle dress stood next to Yor’s picture, emblazoned on her chest were four rather neat yellow stars (probably drawn by someone else, most likely her mother). At Anya’s feet was a cloud of fluff with black smudges for feet and a lopsided bowtie. Good boy Bond.

And lastly was a bright yellow mop of hair with bright blue eyes and a flat mouth (no smile it seems for him…) dressed in an army green squared off outfit and a green attempt at a hat…and as he looked at it, how Twilight wished she had drawn him in his teal suit or a soft cotton sweater…

While there wasn’t any physical distance between the four figures in the picture - they were all holding hands, save for Bond - the clothing choice for his figure in the picture hammered home that he’s… not home. That he’s not with Loid’s girls. A painful reminder that he’s halfway across the world with no clear timeframe of when he could even request leave to come home…

But he’s kept Loid’s name, even if that’s barely solace at this point. He’s still Loid Forger and he intends on keeping that for as long as he can. Strix is still active, still functioning well without him, and he’ll see it through once he’s allowed out of this hell hole.

A melancholy settles deep into his bones as he folds the picture and tucks it into his breast pocket. He can’t lose sight of his ultimate goal - peace. Peace so no more children have to grow up like he did.

And oh… how much he yearns for that peace to be for Loid’s girls more than anyone else. No matter how selfish that thought is.

Shaking his head to chase the thoughts away, he looks at the final letter in his grasp. The graceful handwriting on the envelope matches that of Anya’s but the return is labeled with a curly Y. Forger. A smile tugged at his lips as the pocket knife slid effortlessly through the envelope and Yor’s letter curled in his hand less than a second later.

"Dear Loid,

How are you? I know I ask that of you in every letter and I hope it’s not a bother for you. If it is, please let me know. I’ll figure out another opener for these letters.

I’m sure Anya told you in her letter that she got another Stella! I’m so proud of her and we had a cake to celebrate. She wished you could have been there the whole time but she did enjoy herself and we invited Becky to join us. Anya said that this was only an eighth of her reward, as she really wants your coming home to be her gift. I told her that it may have to wait a while and she seems to be okay with that. But I know the distance is hard on her and on you. I hear her whispering sometimes on stars at night, wishing for you to come home soon. I know it’s all in the hands of the people in charge and I think to some degree Anya understands that too.

I’m rambling."

Twilight couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lip if he tried. Even in her letters, Yor’s mannerisms shone through. It had taken her several months before she stopped referring to Anya as “Anya-san” in her letters and just calling him “Loid'' was fairly new (though not an unwelcome change). He was glad she was able to correspond with him and fill in some of the details Anya would typically gloss over in the excitement of her letters and things Franky may not have been present for or didn't have room to talk about in his.

But, more importantly, she sent mementos in her letters.

"One of Anya’s uniforms tore due to a fall on the way home from school (she’s okay! The dress prevented scratches or bruises) so we went to the tailor for the repair. As a courtesy, Monna asked if she could retake Anya’s measurements just to make sure there aren’t any other alterations that would be needed for her uniform. She’s grown two whole centimeters since the last time! I’ve included a ribbon the same length as her height so you can see. She’s very proud of how tall she’s gotten, claiming she’ll be as tall as you in no time."

He could practically hear Yor’s laugh in her writing and it warmed something in his chest at the mental sound. He took a moment away from the letter to retrieve the ribbon - a soft satin pink one - and unfurled it from it’s fold. It fluttered down, spanning from his hip socket to the ground. As he stared at it, he tried to picture the girl he adopted standing next to him, looking up at him but not having to look nearly as far back as she once had to in order to look at his face. Anya might have a point, he thought ruefully as he folded back up the ribbon and tucked it away before turning back to the letter.

She went on for a few paragraphs detailing some of the adventures (and misadventures) the trio had gone on with some photographs to match in the envelope. It was…comforting in a way. A way to be part of the adventure even if he wasn’t physically there and everything had happened weeks prior. Though his smile dimmed as he realized the letter was coming to a close.

Meaning soon he’d need to return to the tent. Return to reality.

Return to war.

"And, just so you know, your daughter can be very persistent when she wants to be, Dr. Forger."

Twilight nearly choked on his spit at that. What?

I was putting away my makeup on my day off and Anya made her way into my room. I can’t recall the specifics of why she came in but she saw my lipstick and absolutely had to try some. She pulled out the puppy eyes and everything (Bond has taught her too well, I think - and yes I’m laughing while writing this).

Oh. Oh. She’s happy about this.

"Anyway, I decided to let her try some of my pink lipstick. She sat very still so as not to smudge it and she looked beautiful. When it comes time for her to dress up for big events or dates in the future, she’s going to look amazing. I just know it. Though, that’ll be years off, so please don’t stress about it!"

His gut tightened at that, but for a different reason than Yor fretted about. Thinking that far into the future wasn’t something he should allow himself to do. It would get in the way of the mission. It was likely beyond the mission’s capacity. He wouldn’t be there.

Or, more accurately, Loid Forger wouldn’t be there.

And, depending on when his luck ran out, Agent Twilight might not be around either.

Shaking that thought away, he squinted at the letter, willing himself to focus.

"I think Becky may have told her about something in Berlint in Love where the female lead kisses letters, leaving kiss marks on them, and Anya wanted to do the same with her letter. I’m sure you’ve seen it and she was very proud of how perfect it turned out. She was also pretty anxious when I told her it needed to dry and let it sit out for a few days to ensure it was perfect before we put it in the envelope. I hope it didn’t smudge at all.

She also insisted that I kiss your letter too. It doesn’t have to mean anything! Just the whims of a little girl that I’m complying with.

I hope you are taking care of yourself out there, Loid. Eating when you can? Sleeping well? I don’t know how much of that is possible so close to the front lines, but I can only hope that you are okay. Write back when you can.

Sincerely, Yor"

Below her signature, just as she had warned, was a red kiss mark. A woman’s lips stained red. It was the same shade she had worn the night of her coworker’s party, back when he had accidentally introduced himself as her husband rather than her boyfriend as they had agreed. Unbiddenly, the shade brought back more memories of that night - her steadiness under fire, her graceful kick of that goon, her shyness as she suggested that they get married, her mouth slightly open as he slid the grenade pin over her left ring finger…

There were no instructions on what to do with her kiss mark, unlike with Anya's. And yet he couldn’t help but simply stare at it. It took him too long to realize that his thumb was brushing the plump lower lip and he forced himself to stop.

It doesn’t have to mean anything, she had said.

But what if -

He refused to hear the end of that thought. Carefully, he folded the letter back into the trifold and slipped it into the envelope along with the ribbon and pictures. He’d taken enough time to dwell on Ostania and those still there.

It was time to return to war.

Chapter Text

“Mama! Bond!” Anya chirped happily as soon as the front door opened and her little Mary Janes clacked on the hardwood floor of the apartment. “I’m home!”

“Welcome home, Baby!” Yor cheered, poking her head into the entryway before the girl ran over and threw herself into a hug. Yor easily caught the girl and swung her around a bit, Bond chasing after Anya’s feet with happy borfs as if playing a game. Anya clung to her mother tightly before she was set down. “Did you have a good day at school?”

Anya’s smile pulled at her lip as she went over her day, pulling off her shoes before bringing them to her room and dumping her backpack at her desk. She eagerly followed her mother to the kitchen where the two began to prepare hot cocoa. She pulled out the step stool Franky had made for her specific use in the kitchen (under strict supervision of course. It was not meant to be used to retrieve snacks without Yor’s say so…but Franky did let it slide during babysitting from time to time). Once she was settled by her mother, Anya carefully spooned the amount Mama had determined as the “perfect amount” - which was roughly two spoonfulls…though on “bad days” Mama would allow for three.

But today was a good day! Bond had seen it that morning and Anya had been so excited for the vision to come true. She was practically skipping on her way home and her grin had hurt her cheeks as Mama poured the warm milk into the cups. Once the kettle was set on a hot dish pad, the two made their way to the living room where a small stack of letters sat patiently on the coffee table.

Anya was all too familiar with the routine of letters and fought her reflex to run to the couch, snatch up the paper, tear it open and frantically see her Papa’s handwriting.

But she knew to wait. Mama had a really clean way of opening the envelopes and her gentle, calloused hands would guide her through the letter. Papa was getting better at using words Anya already knew (or maybe she was getting better at figuring out what he was talking about!) but sometimes he was just too smart for her.

After a few minutes, and two warm sips of the perfect hot cocoa, Anya snuggled into Mama’s side as she opened up the envelope with a small pen knife - small, sharp and nothing like Mama’s daggers - before pulling out some folded paper. She handed it almost reverently to Anya.

Bond curled up at their feet, ears perking up as the paper crackled while she unfolded it.

“Dear Anya,”

“Congratulations on your exams! I knew you would do great on them and I’m so proud of you for keeping up with your studies. Even math, though I know you don’t like it. Maybe Franky can help you with it if he has the time.”

Anya’s nose crinkled at the suggestion. Unkie Franky was fun and math would ruin that! Maybe Bazooka Bill would be a better tutor. After all, he had the highest score in their grade since the first end of term exams before Papa left…

“You’re a good girl for listening to your mother and not causing her any grief over that cake. We don’t want Bond getting sick.”

Papa’s letter carried on for a few paragraphs, talking about some of the animals or plants that he saw around the base he was living at now. One story detailed an encounter he had with a striped kitten which no one could keep it because it’s mama was looking for it. Papa didn’t say it specifically, but Anya was sure that the cat was actually a tiger, not a house cat. (She’ll have to remember to ask in her letter!)

“Thank you for the picture of y our family. I’ve kept it in my pocket everyday since I got your letter. It does remind me of Os home. I’m very proud of you, Anya.

"Until our next letter,

"Sin L Love, Papa.”

One of the clear disadvantages of litter writing was Anya had no way of knowing the true thoughts that went through her Papa’s head as he wrote his letters, but there was something about how he signed his letter this time that gave her pause. Was it a code?

The way he scratched out some of the letters and words was…purposeful? But why would he send her a code? Especially one that she had no idea how to read?

“Mama?” She inquired, turning to give her mother a confused look. “Why did Papa cross out these letters?”

Yor peered down and gazed at the page for a moment before patting Anya’s head. “It looks like your father was going to write another word but changed it, so he crossed it out.”

“But why?” Anya pressed. “He didn’t do that until the end of the letter. Why would he do that?”

Her mother’s mouth twisted a bit, lips pressing into a line. “Maybe he didn’t want to rewrite the whole letter. Paper is a precious commodity where your Papa is and he wrote it all in pen, so crossing out words would be smarter than starting over on a new paper.”

“Precious co-mad-i-ty? Why is the precious mad?”

“Commodity,” Yor corrected with a giggle. “It means something is useful but in limited supply. Or that there isn’t a lot of paper your father can get because of where he is and his job.”

“OH!” Anya answered in understanding, her eyes sparkling before her lips pressed into a line. “Can… should we send Papa extra paper in our letters? So he doesn’t have to scratch out words!”

Her mother’s calloused hands ran through the girl’s pink hair in gentle glides, smoothing down the locks while she gazed lovingly at the girl. “First we have to write replies. We’ll see if that’s okay with the postman. If the letter is too thick, it may not make it to your Papa quickly.” “And postage is getting more expensive, but… maybe for one letter...”

Anya’s smile brightened and she leaned up to kiss her mother’s cheek. “Thank you, Mama!”

Yor softened considerably before wrapping Anya in a gentle (well, gentle for her) hug. “You’re welcome, baby.” She whispered.

They stayed like that for a long moment before Yor pulled away. “Would you like to get started on your letter?”

Anya looked up at her for a long moment, as if considering the words before smiling and bouncing off the couch, Bond frolicking at her heels. “To the writing desk!” she cheered in her best imitation of Bondman before scurrying away. “Have fun with Papa’s letter, Mama!”

She ended up waiting until Anya was asleep before opening her own letters. Dinner had required her attention, although it had been something simple.

Ever since Dominic was sent to the front, Camellia had practically been shoving extra meals and recipes at her coworkers. Yor wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth and Anya had been all the happier for it. As months had passed, Yor had gotten to the point that the only time she made her daughter turn down (or make her sick) the food she made was when she made original recipes. If she was following someone else’s instructions, the food she made was edible and usually tasty! It was a significant improvement that genuinely made Yor feel like she was becoming better at being a mom.

And maybe better at being a wife, even if Loid wasn’t there to also enjoy her cooking attempts.

After a bath, pajamas, and a bedtime story, Anya settled into bed with her huge penguin plush in her arms and Bond beside her bed. Once both were securely in the grips of dreamland, Yor left the girl’s room and set about cleaning up the kitchen and living room. It was only after everything was in order that she found the courage to sit down and read the letters addressed to her.

Two crisp envelopes sat before her on the coffee table next to a steaming cup of tea she had brewed in an attempt to steel her nerves. Her fingers still shook slightly as she fingered the paper lightly, tracing the names on them.

Yuri Briar.

L. Forger.

It had been a while since she had received a letter from her brother and her husband on the same day. Since the beginning of his deployment, Yuri had sent her multiple letters in quick succession without a response from her between them, in an eager effort to keep the promise to write to her. It was honestly overwhelming. At one point the mailman had mentioned that maybe Yuri ought to have waited to send his initial correspondence and sent all the letters in one envelope to save on space in the mail plane since they had ended up banding a dozen letters into a small parcel at one point. After that, Yor had requested he slow down his writing.

Shockingly, she had been met with little resistance. Apparently, his superiors informed him that there was a cap on mail per person to help save on mailplane pickups which was being inforced within the timeframe of her own letter requesting him to slow down. Yuri had very begrudgingly agreed to the terms.

Part of her felt bad for how relieved she had felt that day she had received word from him letting her know that his letters would be limited to once every two weeks. It wasn’t that she didn’t love hearing from Yuri, far from it! But it had honestly been too much. She knew her brother was exuberant, especially when it came to her, to a degree that many felt was off putting. It wasn’t something she denied and she had taken steps to try and curvetail that to the best of her abilities…even with the potential of it backfiring.

Maybe a day would come where that exuberance eased into something more manageable, but she doubted that day would come anytime soon, especially with the distance between them.

And Loid’s letter…

A flush coated her cheeks. The last letter she had sent him had a kiss mark by her signature. It had been at Anya’s insistence, but that didn’t mean that Yor hadn’t thought about it after the fact. Wondered (and panicked) about what Loid would think about it. She had explained in detail the circumstances…and hoped that Loid didn’t think her too indulgent, too much of a pushover in regards to their daughter.

Their daughter…

Sometimes it still struck her that she had adopted Anya. That legally Anya was her child.

Just like how Loid was legally her husband, of mutual convenience but still legally her husband.

Yor shook herself from her stray thoughts and turned her attention back to the task at hand. Which would she read first? Yuri’s letter or Loid’s?

Her hand shook as it hovered between the two. Neither would know who she chose to read first but what if….what if her brother's letter had something very important for her to know right now? What if he had been hurt in the field!? What if he had been taken prisoner (even if the letter was addressed to her in his handwriting)?!

But what if Loid was similarly in danger? He hadn't said anything to indicate one way or another but he surely wouldn't address such things to his daughter! No…he would have addressed them to his wife. Surely…

Her hand snatched Yuri's from the table, frantic anxiety fueling how she tore open the envelope. With barely restrained strength, the paper edge ripped easily under her penknife revealing several folded papers within. Blood roaring in her ears, she put down the knife and pulled out the folds, her eyes squeezing shut in fear as she opened them. With a deep breath, she opened her eyes.

“Beloved sister!

I'm safe and sound! Sorry for worrying you between letters. I've been busy, unfortunately. I wish I could spend all my time out here writing to you and telling you everything about this country! Verland is quite lovely in its jungles, though too hot and humid in my opinion. Maybe a good place to visit for Ostanians but not to live full time.”

Yor nearly collapsed in relief, the shaking in her hands and the blood pounding in her ears lessening as she took in paragraph after paragraph of her brother's slanted script. Yuri always wrote at a frantic pace, even if what he was writing was mundane, as if he wrote at the speed of his thoughts. Sometimes he jumped erratically from topic to topic, but Yor simply smiled at his words. He was alive, safe, and finding little wonders. He even mentioned, briefly, some of the insects he'd found and (while it made her skin crawl even at a distance) part of her warmed at the resurgence of his childhood interest.

Maybe, when he returned home and completed his contract with the foreign ministry, perhaps she could persuade him to take up the hobby full time!

That was probably a pipe dream…but it wouldn't hurt to ask, right?

As she needed the end of the letter, her stomach tightened.

“Sis, I can't give any specifics or truly confirm this, but there is a slight possibility that I may be able to come home soon. How soon and why are currently unclear or if this is just a mix up from command. I'll do my best to inform you of what I can when I have more information.”

Yuri might be coming home! Her mind screamed in joy. That's what she wanted, right? For this conflict to be over with and for families to be reunited! For her family to be whole again!

But… she and the girls at work were still processing new documents for young men who would be turning 18 within the next few months. Would the draft stop once peace was established or would young men continue to be sent to training? Sure their workload had slowed but it hadn't stopped. Maybe Ostania was planning on making military recruitment mandatory even in peacetime?

She didn't know… but it worried her.

It was always possible that Ostania planned to recall the men who had been at the front since the beginning slowly and rotate the newer soldiers to take their place. That certainly didn't assure that peace was on the horizon.

And that could mean that Yuri would have to go back. Maybe? She wasn't sure…but that's not what she wanted. She wanted her baby brother safe!

Tears stung her eyes as she read through Yuri's lengthy “I love you's”, reassurances that he was healthy, and his farewell. When the words began to run in her vision, she pressed the letter to her chest as if trying to embrace the man who had written it. Her mind wished, begged on every star in the sky for her brother's wellbeing and for him to return home for good soon.

When the tears finally abated, she checked that the letter hadn't gotten damp from her crying before tucking it safely back in its envelope and placing it back on the coffee table.

Loid's letter stared back up at her, his familiar, neat handwriting seeming to beckon her from the black ink. Compelling her to pick it up, to read what he couldn’t tell Anya. Her fingers still trembled as she lifted the envelope, though the anxiety that had filled her when picking up Yuri’s letter had significantly eased. With a much calmer flourish, she cut through the envelope with the pen knife and pulled out Loid’s letter.

“Dear Yor,

I’m well. A little tired from emergency cases from the field but it's something I wouldn’t change. If I can ensure even just one of these boys can survive long enough to go home, I’ll power through the exhaustion. I am getting sleep and eating well enough, I promise. Sometimes it’s not possible to find a moment to get some shuteye, but I make do with what I can.”

Without truly realizing it, the remaining tension in her chest eased as she read through his opening paragraph. While it still bothered her that he couldn’t find adequate time for rest and meals, she could only conclude that his job was much more chaotic than Yuri’s position. Which made sense. Injuries could happen at any time and could range from small grazes and cuts to injuries from a grenade or bomb or bullets or…

Pushing that thought away, she turned her attention back to the letter, shifting slightly to lean back into the couch. Loid kept the tone of his letter light, though she could see the heaviness in his writing. It wasn’t something one would immediately spot if they weren’t familiar with someone’s handwriting, but Yor could see it in his longer strokes and punctuation. Loid’s hand seemed to be pausing more, leeching exhaustion as the pen leeched ink onto the paper.

She could only hope it was exhaustion and not injury… They wouldn’t hurt doctors out in the field, right? They were protected from the hailstorm of bullets…right?

Swallowing back the creeping anxiety, she continued through his letter.

“Truthfully, Yor, you’re reminders to take care of myself help more than I could explain in a few words. Sometimes I forget to ask myself that even when I know that if I’m not at my best, I can’t help the boys out here as much as I should. Please don’t stop asking.”

Yor blinked at the tone change, a hot flush creeping up her cheeks. It wasn’t like Loid to be so…warm in his letters. Personable and inquiring about her wellbeing, absolutely. There had been times in other letters where he had reassured her of one thing or another, but not something like this. Maybe he had been interrupted after writing his first paragraph, came back and felt he needed to kind of…apologize to her? Almost beg her to continue to do something she hadn’t been sure was fitting for their arrangement?

“I would have loved to have been home to congratulate Anya on her newest Stella, but I’m glad you are there with her to cheer her on in all of her achievements. She’s an amazing girl and I’m so proud of her. I know I don’t tell her that nearly enough, but I know she knows she is amazing because you do tell her when I’m lacking. Thank you, Yor.”

It was only then that she realized just how short Loid’s letter was and it felt like a stone in her hand.

“Sometimes I wish on the stars that I could be back in Ostania with you three. The stars are a little different here, some of the constellations don’t shine this far south, so I’m pretty sure Anya and I are wishing on separate ones, but I don’t think it can hurt, right? Hopefully, one day soon, the people running this damn war will see just how stupid it all is. Maybe we’ll be able to sit down and talk this out, hash out our differences and come to a resolution that all parties can get behind. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

And even if it is, if it meant Anya could grow up in a world that wasn’t teetering on war like we were, I’d do everything I could to ensure it.”

Something twinged within her, like that was a secret. That Loid was telling her something while not telling her at all.

“I'm going to finish my duty here and make my way back to Anya, Bond and you. I promise, Yor.”

Loid…what’s going on?

“If my next letter is later than usual, please don’t be alarmed. Locations are changing and getting mail in and out has been delayed a bit. Once things settle down, communication should be a lot easier. I can’t be more specific than that considering operational security, unfortunately, so please trust me that I’m safe and well.”

Her fingers crinkled the paper lightly at the edges but she forced herself to relax. This had happened a few months prior. The radio silence had been deafening during those weeks, every day creeping by as if it were a month. But once communication had been reestablished, the letters had been frequent and timely. At least he’s getting a warning this time in advance, she thought mildly, biting back any frustration. It wasn’t her place to long for something that couldn’t be changed with a snap of fingers or a wish on a star…even if it was all she wanted.

Warmth blossomed across her forehead as the memory of Loid’s farewell seeped into her mind.

“Have you learned any new recipes? A week ago, I was able to try this local dish that reminded me of your Southern stew, in a way. It’s a dumpling, a steamed rolled dough with a rich meaty filling that has a similar profile to the broth. I was able to get the recipe from one of the older ladies and taped it to the back of this letter. I’m not entirely sure if all of the ingredients mentioned are available at our local market and the process can be a little tricky to make them, but...perhaps we could try this when I get back? We can explore it together if you like!

Until I’m able to write again,

Loid.”

Turning the letter over, near her fingers she found the thicker cardstock taped at the corners to the paper. Carefully, she peeled it off, ensuring that neither the paper nor the card ripped in the process. Loid’s precise handwriting was less stressed on the card, the lines less intense as if he had more time to write out the recipe than he had the letter. Her eyes scanned over the words, taking in the ingredients and the instructions on how to make the dumplings. Some parts seemed much more complicated, especially regarding how to pinch the dough in order to put the meat filling within, whereas other parts seemed easy enough, like dicing the vegetables finely. It would probably be best to wait until Loid returned home before attempting this recipe…unless Camilla was willing to try making it with her first.

It probably wouldn’t hurt, unless her coworker had no idea how to make these and then it might go very wrong.

Yor’s lip caught between her teeth as she considered that thought before deciding to simply leave the recipe in the box that rested in one of the cabinets in the kitchen. She had gotten it within a month of Loid’s departure and had been slowly stuffing it full of recipes she had learned in the time since. Most of them were from Camilla, while others were cut outs of recipes from magazines or cards from Martha with recommendations. For a while, it had felt like every week she was adding another to the box, turning it into a time capsule of sorts. This small tin with folded up papers and index cards was a physical reminder of time passing.

Shaking that thought away, Yor slipped the dumpling recipe behind the others, going through a few of them to move one or more further forward to try again this coming week. Giving Anya options on what food to eat in advance seemed to boost the girl’s enthusiasm when it came to Yor’s cooking. There were some recipes she would outright refuse, but even those had gotten better with time.

Maybe…maybe by the time Loid gets back I’ll…

Without letting that thought finish, Yor shut the tin and the cabinet. After cleaning up the teacup and kettle, she flicked off the light, plunging the apartment into darkness as she climbed into bed...Yuri’s letter tucked into a drawer for safekeeping and Loid’s resting delicately under her fingertips throughout the night.

While it was probably one of the simpler things to set up regarding Loid Forger’s deployment, ensuring that his coded messages not only arrived at her desk in a timely manner and keeping an ear to the ground to ensure that their scent hadn’t been caught on by the SSS was a delicate balance. Not one she couldn’t manage, but Sylvia often found it to be tedious at best and aggravating at worst.

Sitting back at her desk after dismissing the handful of agents that had been waiting for orders of the day, she looked over the envelope, noting any creases or cuts to the paper. All soldiers were told not to seal their letters, as they were all reviewed by the mail staff to ensure no espionage was found, but sometimes damage to the envelope itself could be more than simple wear from transportation overseas. In this case, it was a code indicator.

There. Left hand bottom front corner had a strange smudge just underneath the processing stamp. L- cypher.

The envelope’s adhesive yielded to her tug and soon the coded message was in her hands. Gray eyes scanned over the code, noting Twilight’s updates on movements and reports as her lips thinned out. The front was getting messy. The recent news, at least recent from when Twilight wrote this, was that attacks on both sides seemed to be desperately trying to gain ground but neither was moving. Essentially a stalemate…which wasn’t ideal. Stalemates meant drawing out the fight, starving out the enemy. Communication via mail would be slow, perhaps difficult in some areas. It would be harder for Twilight to slip away, but he could probably find information in the radio rooms. A riskier operation, but not one he couldn't accomplish.

But they had planned in advance for things like this to occur. It hadn’t been the first time in this conflict that stalemates had reared their ugly heads and probably wouldn’t be the last. All they could do was adapt, dig in their heels where necessary, and ride this out.

Twilight knows that.

“The line will continue to be held.”

The letter said, almost as if he anticipated what she would be thinking about all this.

“Though, when I am finally allowed to return, I’m going to insist on turning my full attention to Strix. Sakura has gained another Stella. We are one step closer.”

The tight line of her mouth eased at that. So Anya Forger was doing well all things considered. Good.

Even if there was a war being fought halfway across the world, ensuring things didn’t escalate on the home front was still her prerogative.

Once she was sure she’d gathered all the necessary intel from Twilight’s letter, she pulled out a pocket lighter and set the paper to burn.

Chapter Text

The train station was fairly quiet as Yor paced near Platform 7, a slight oddity considering this station was near the center of Berlint. But perhaps that had more to do with how early it was in the morning. That didn’t ease her anxiety about looking odd, even if it wasn’t enough to stop herself from pacing the length of the platform for the nth time, but it did mean that less eyes were looking at her. And those that did didn’t stare for very long.

Every third pass of the platform, she would check her watch for the time. Seconds ticked by at a snail's pace, but every one of them brought Yuri closer to her.

How he had gotten permission to divulge the day and time of his return home, she genuinely wasn’t sure, but was grateful nonetheless. She had been able to make arrangements for Anya and Bond to spend the night at the Blackbells at her daughter’s insistence, leaving her less things to worry about. Yor knew Anya wasn’t as attached to Yuri as she was to Franky (whom she called Unkie more times than not these days) and she wouldn’t force a relationship between the two. Maybe there was a little resentment in her daughter’s heart that her uncle had been able to return but word on her father’s return was unknown.

I should probably talk to her about that, right?

Just as her thoughts began to spiral into worries about Anya’s mental wellbeing, a loud warning bell sounded in the station, informing those on the platform that the train was approaching. Freezing in place, Yor resolutely tucked that thought away for later and watched the engine approach. She had to remind herself to breathe as the engine slowly (well for a train) pulled up and hissed when it came to a stop.

Within a minute, passenger car doors were opening and people began to disembark. Many were dressed in civilian clothing likely coming in from the nearby towns for work, but a few wore military uniforms. Her eyes scanned every form within sight as they moved, slowly becoming a mass of bodies, searching wildly for familiar features.

“Nee-san!”

Yor spun at the voice, red eyes widening as she was scooped up into a pair of strong, familiar arms. “Yuri!” She squealed, wrapping her arms securely around her brother’s frame as he swung her side to side slightly. It was a little strange to be on the receiving end of such a strong embrace, but she was just so glad to have her brother home that she didn’t care.

After a few moments, he set her down and pulled away slightly. His familiar red eyes searched her face as she looked him over. He didn’t look much different from when he left nearly two years ago, but there were minute details she noticed. Like his jawline was a little sharper and his shoulders broader under his uniform jacket. His hair was a little longer than that severe cut he had been required to get before deployment but it was still very short in comparison to how he preferred it in the past.

She smiled, a watery thing at him before pulling him back into a hug, reminding herself to not crush him. “I’m so glad you are home.”

“Me too, Nee-san!” He sniffed into her shoulder, arms tightening around her middle.

As they stood there for a long moment in each other’s arms, someone bumped into them. Yor turned to apologize, pulling away from Yuri slightly -

Only for her brother to snap.

“Hey idiot!” He snarled, glaring at the offender - an older man with a cane. “Watch where you are going!”

The man’s eyes bulged at the veracity of Yuri’s warning and fumbled through an apology. From how her brother’s arm was shaking in her hands, Yor knew she needed to quickly step in before he got out of hand.

“It’s alright,” she soothed, drawing her brother and the man’s attention towards her. “We are unharmed. Are you alright, sir?”

The older man blinked at her and smiled sheepishly. “I’m alright, miss,” he answered, completely contrite. “I do apologize. I-I tripped over my feet, unfortunately, but managed to catch myself only by bumping into you both.”

Yor gave a sigh of relief, tightening her grip on Yuri’s arm to restrain him further after glancing at him and seeing the furrow in his brow. “I’m just glad you're okay. And I apologize for my brother’s outburst. He just returned home and is probably tired from his long journey.”

It seemed that the old man only then realized the uniform Yuri wore. He stiffened to attention and nodded his head. “Thank you for your service, sir. I won’t take up anymore of your time.” He nodded to Yor. “I hope both of you have a good day.”

Before either Briar could say anything, the man vanished into the crowd. After taking a moment to breathe, Yor grabbed his bag and dragged him out of the station to go home.

While it hadn’t been discussed in depth before Yuri’s return, Mama had mentioned to Anya the possibility of her uncle living with them for a few days or weeks until he could secure a new apartment. Supposedly, Mama had already been in contact with Yuri’s previous apartment’s manager to inquire regarding any available units just in case her brother was open to moving back into that complex. Nothing had been available during that call, but a few were coming up on the end of their lease so there was a possibility.

Anya hadn’t exactly been thrilled about the prospect of Yuri living with them, especially when her mother followed it up by saying there would be some room shuffling once he was back. The girl had nearly panicked at the prospect, tears filling her wide green eyes with such pain that her mother had drawn her into her arms and quickly clarified that Mama would be taking Papa’s old room and Yuri would take hers.

That, and with a promise that Uncle Scruffy would still be her primary babysitter, had eased all her worries. Sure, she wasn’t ecstatic with the idea of being in close quarters with her uncle but, after that initial worry, she didn’t raise a fuss. Maybe it was time to give her uncle a chance! Maybe he’d seen some cool stuff on his trip and would share that with Anya!

Maybe he would actually like Anya!

Yuri’s first day in the Forger home was civil enough. He still glowered and glared when Mama’s back was turned, but he was mostly exhausted and his thoughts weren’t bubbling with the same rapid fire sister worship or snide thoughts about “Loidy”. By the time everyone turned in for bed, Anya thought that maybe, just maybe, this would be okay.

It took three days for that to change.

By then, her uncle had gotten enough rest that his thoughts now overflowed with praises of her Mama and the return of “chihuahua girl”.

Why did I ever think that was funny? Unkie is so weird… the eight year old mused grumpily after the fifth time of being referred to the term aloud.

But the worst came when Unkie Scruffy came over to babysit one afternoon.

That day, both Mama and Uncle Yuri had work engagements and, as promised, Mama had called Franky to babysit. Either it had slipped her mind to inform her brother about the arrangement or she had neglected to plan for asking Franky to come after Yuri had already left. Leading to a rather tense introduction.

Anya had skipped towards the door just as the bell rang, Bond hot on her heels until he stopped midway down the hall and turned slightly, blocking the way between Anya and the living room.

“Unkie Scruffy!” The girl squealed in delight as the curly haired man smiled down at her.

“Yo kiddo!” Franky answered, patting the girl’s head before stepping in. “Ready to goof off while your mom’s away?”

Anya didn’t need to read his thoughts to know he had plans. Stars filled her eyes as she nodded her head rapidly. “WA-”

“Who the hell are you?” A voice demanded from down the hallway and within a second, Anya was pulled back by a firm hand around her arm, nearly tripping over Bond in the process.

She already knew who was there but she looked up, a little worried at the storm in Uncle Yuri’s mind…only to have that feeling replaced by complete annoyance. Of course… With an eye roll, she pulled her arm away and took several steps closer to Franky, sticking out her tongue for a moment for good measure. (Which probably just riled Yuri up more).

Anya tuned out as much of the irate man’s thoughts as he began his interrogation of Franky, one that she felt the need to interject considering Franky was stumbling to answer the rapid fire questions -

“Franky-san!” Mama called, finally rushing out into the hallway, passed her brother and Bond to shake the shorter man’s hand. “Thank you so much for coming over on such short notice. It won’t happen again if I can help it.”

“It’s quite alright, Okusan!” Franky cheerily greeted, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully before pulling away from the (unintentionally tight) handshake politely. “I’m always happy to hang out with the munchkin and fluffball! You just focus on your work event. Everything will be perfect here. Right, kiddo?”

“Oui!” Anya saluted, giving her Mama a smile and a hug before grabbing Franky’s hand and preparing to drag him into the apartment.

But before she could, Franky held his ground for one moment to look politely at Yuri. “You must be Yuri, right? I’m Franky, a friend of the family, mostly through Loidman but I’ve been around for Yor and Anya since he was deployed. Nice to meetcha!”

Yuri’s eyes glared at the man, as if trying to dissect the truth from his very soul. His thoughts seemed almost…disappointed that he couldn’t detect a lie, though the mention of Loid sent his thoughts growling and immediately pegging Franky as suspicious. Even if he didn’t lie about being a friend of the family, surely this man had ulterior motives with -

Okay that’s enough “Uncle Yuri brain” for a day.

Anya tugged on Franky’s arm and Bond moved to bump into the secret informant to nudge him (intentionally? She couldn’t tell) passed the Briar siblings. “Bye Mama! Bye Uncle Yuri! Have a good work night!”

“Be good!” Mama called before grabbing Yuri’s scarf from the coat rack and throwing it over her brother’s neck. “Come on, Yuri. You need to put on your coat and scarf. It’s pretty cold out and I don’t want you getting sick.”

Immediately, Yuri stopped glowering and spiraling into rabbit holes of unfounded conspiracy and he brightened towards his sister. “Oh! Of course, Nee-san!”

Anya purposefully blocked out everything from that side of the apartment until the door closed and they were gone.

Everything was mostly perfect at his sister’s house. He got to see her every day - multiple times a day even, depending on their work schedules! - a luxury he hadn’t been able to enjoy since before he joined the SSS. He got to eat her cooking, which tasted…different than it had before he left, but Yuri would chalk that up to being away for so long (never mind that Chihuahua girl and the mutt seemed to also enjoy her cooking now). She worried and fussed over him frequently, let him help her with various tasks around the house and even had opportunities to relax with her once her stepdaughter went to bed. It was just like when they had lived together years prior!

The only flies in the ointment were Chihuahua girl, the mutt, and all the reminders of Loid Forger.

Even with the man physically gone from Yor’s life, the signs of Forger’s presence were everywhere, grating him like a bad itch. Pictures on the mantle, both group and solo shots, seemed to watch him as he moved about the living room. Blue eyes seemed to watch him wherever he went in the communal rooms and if he dared step into Anya or Yor’s rooms, Yuri was convinced he’d find other pictures there.

One day he came home to find that the mantle had been rearranged so that all of Forger’s pictures were in the center and scattered around them were several instant polaroid photos of the man in his uniform or leaning against a tree possibly at his base (or an older base depending on when the picture was taken). He had glared at the addition for several long minutes before Anya approached him with a deadpan expression.

“Mama likes to keep him on the mantle so it’s like he’s still in the apartment." She had the audacity to shake her finger at him like she was scolding her dog. "Don’t wreck Mama’s hard work. She’s already scolded Bond about what’ll happen if she gets back and pictures are missing.”

Even the knowledge that this was Yor’s handiwork and not some contrivance of Forger or Anya (though he couldn’t rule that out of either of them at this time) didn’t ease the irritation at the eyes staring at him. Eventually, Yuri simply took to changing his shift at the office in order to not have to be around Forger’s pictures longer than necessary.

Irritating.

And then there was Franky Franklin, a man with the fakest name he’d ever heard in his life, supposed “friend” of Loid Forger. He had run a background check on the man almost immediately, including some of his own surveillance once he found where the man worked. It all came back clean. Not radiantly clean, though all of the infractions were from at least eight years prior and included minor things such as public intoxication, a few noise complaints (apparently the man considered himself an inventor) and one incident where he was the victim of a random brawl. But still considered clean by his stringent SSS standards. Reluctantly worthy enough to be around his beloved sister, though at the first sign of trouble, he’d personally throw him into a cell to rot.

Yuri shook his head and turned his attention back to the dish he was scrubbing, the headache behind his eyes making it difficult to concentrate. It had been pretty persistent all day, but he had worked through it. He didn’t have time to be down for the count. He needed to ensure Yor had the best-

A giggle, bright and happy, echoed in his ears and broke his train of thought as his head snapped up to locate the source.

Yor sat in the armchair closest to him in the living room, her back to him and something in her hand. His first reaction was to pout, as he had noticed that his sister would giggle like that when Forger’s daughter or their dog would snuggle into her…but he slowly frowned as he recalled that they had been sent to bed nearly an hour ago and the TV wasn’t on so…

Quietly, Yuri dried his hands and walked up behind her, curious and cautious.

In his sister’s long fingers he soon identified the object as a white piece of paper. A few steps further and he started to make out a neat, black-inked script. A letter? He thought, narrowing his eyes until he was right behind her, bending down and clenching his jaw as he stared. From who?

“Dear Yor,” It began. “I’m so glad to hear your brother returned safely -”

“Yuri?” Yor inquired, turning her wine red eyes on him and bringin the paper close to her chest. “What are you doing?”

“Who are you corresponding with?”

The words had more bite to them than he would have permitted to have with his sister present, but his blood red eyes stared mercilessly at the paper clutched in Yor’s hands, thoughts speeding through his mind. Others have been informed of my return? Who? Why? Sure Nee-san is free to divulge things but how did that make it past the censors? Was it -

“Uh… just Loid.” Yor answered, shifting slightly before folding up the letter and sliding it into an envelope.

“You told him I returned home!” He snapped.

His sister froze, fingers halting in the motion to close the envelope before slowly blinking up at him. “Was…did you not want me to?”

Shaking his head, Yuri took a breath to calm himself of the irritation that was bubbling into rage. This was just Yor, his precious sister and patriotic citizen of Ostania, not some two time scum that used every good Ostania had to bring it’s downfall. She didn’t know his true job and the knowledge that he was home wasn’t exactly classified. Truly, it was the knowledge that she was personally corresponding with Forger that bothered him. Corresponding for the sake of his daughter was one thing, but engaging in private letters like lovers with the man just made him feel…slimy, gross. And with how Yor hid the letter-

Yuri’s complexion paled three shades whiter. Surely the context of the rest of the letter wouldn’t be something so unseemly!

“Yuri!” His sister cried, concern filling her voice and eyes. “Are you alright?”

No…

“I…I’m sorry, Nee-san. I’ve…I’ve had a headache all day. I shouldn’t have acted like that.”

Her warm hands cupped his shoulders, steadying him and lifting him effortlessly to his feet. “Then let's get you an aspirin and some rest, okay? You’ll feel like yourself in the morning.”

He wouldn’t. But if it made her feel better…

He just had to find a way to stop Forger and Yor from sending lewd letters.

The plan was simple on paper.

First, Yuri would need to intercept the mail everyday. He doubted Loidy had the time, dedication, or ability to send mail to Yor more frequently than the standard two weeks between mail calls, but in order for this plan to work, he needed to start early. He would have to test the waters to see how his sister and Loid’s daughter would react to him getting the mail and passing it along to them and after some time would need for them to accept that he’ll just be there to get it.

After that he would need to slowly space out the arrival of Loid’s letters, either by hiding them for a day or so or by having them “stick” to other envelopes, hiding them within his own mail. Then, when they were either out of the house or asleep, he could check Yor’s letter to ensure nothing obscene was within it and -

Well even if there wasn’t, he was conflicted about giving her the letter anyways. What if I just pass along the details of the letter to Yor without the menucha? No…she’d probably get suspicious unless I could say the letter was addressed to me. Maybe I could forge his handwriting on an envelope to convince her…

Yuri stroked his chin in consideration as his mind wandered - only for a pair of painted nails to snap in his face.

“Earth to Yuri! Are you there?”

Red eyes glowered at the hand before moving to the offender’s face. Chloe, a coworker who had been recently transferred to another unit. They still worked together on occasion at their captains’ discretion.

“What have I said about calling me by my name?”

Annoyingly, she just rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up. We’re the same rank now so that shit doesn’t fly.”

“The hell it does while we are in the office!”

“Sheesh… You’re in a fucking mood,” she huffed, neither looking or sounding particularly thrilled about his attitude. “What’s got you all bent out of shape?”

The question might have been rhetorical, but after a moment to glance around, he took the bait.

“My sister has been getting private letters.”

It was as if a switch had been turned on. Chloe immediately paused in her typing to wheel her chair closer to him and lean in. “Oh?” she inquired, conspiratorially.

“They’re from her husband (the bastard) and she hides them from view while reading them,” He pursed his lips. “They make her laugh, but I think there’s more to it. She’s flushed after reading them.”

Chloe's expression flattened. "Seriously?" She huffed. "You're upset that your sister is getting letters from the man she loves?"

Yuri blanched. "She doesn't love him!"

"You're insufferable!" She declared, throwing up her arms before turning back to her abandoned report. "It's been, what? Three years? Four? Almost half of which they've spent a world away from each other? If they want to talk all lovey-dovey or get it on via the post, that's their business. Plus, it's not like the mail readers haven't seen it before. It's not illegal in private correspondence with a spouse."

He glowered at her, grumbling under his breath before pausing in his turn towards his own neglected report. Wait... "Does that mean you and -"

Chloe gave him her most insufferable smirk, batting her lashes for good measure. "A lady never tells."

Yuri gagged and resolutely turned back to his work.

Lewd…

Stage one of his plan went off without a hitch.

Yor was pleased to see the mail neatly organized at everyone’s usual place at the table when she returned home and even the Chihuahua girl looked a little happy too! Though that likely had more to do with the small box the Blackbell heiress had sent her rather than Yuri’s organization, but as long as she remained unaware of any ulterior motive on his part it was acceptable.

Why would a literal child have reason to be suspicious of me? Or anyone for that matter? A small voice asked in his mind, but he brushed it off. Anya Forger was a weird kid on the best of days and her obsession with Spy Wars probably didn’t help matters.

It didn’t take long for the routine to take hold. Yuri would get the mail when it came by in the early afternoon before heading to his later shift and everything would be waiting on the table for when Anya and Yor got back home. Even Bond seemed to adjust to the schedule, no longer hovering at the door around the time the mail would arrive and would rather be found curled up on the rug for a nap.

That was until Loidy’s first letter arrived. With the envelope addressed in the blonde’s irritatingly neat handwriting, Yuri debated his next move with narrowed eyes - only to be interrupted by a food bowl being dropped at his feet.

Startled, Yuri turned to look and found Bond pawing at his dish, the metal tapping at his polished shoe. “Didn’t Chihuahua girl feed you before she left?!” He growled.

Bond somehow managed to look thoroughly unamused and pushed the bowl even closer.

With a huff, Yuri bent down to pick up the bowl and consequently set the letters down on the coffee table. Gruffly he made his way to the kitchen and pulled open the bag of dog kibble, which spilled, forcing him to clean it up before the mutt ate more than he was supposed to. By the time the white fluffball was happily munching away, it was already time for Yuri to go to work.

He only remembered his dilemma with Loid’s letters once he had changed into his uniform at work.

By the time he got home, both envelopes had already been opened and Yor was happily reading hers…hiding it away from his prying eyes. It was almost like she knew he was watching her!

Grrrrr! Next time, Loidy!

It wasn’t until a few days later that another consideration made itself known to him. He had forgotten about Yor sending Loid mail. Not only that, but aggravatingly enough, Anya Forger wasn’t keen on relinquishing her duty as the member of the household that put the mail in the mailbox. She insisted on putting every envelope with postage into the golden outgoing mailbox just up the road. Not only that, but the sneaky child managed to hide the envelopes the night before and serendipitously slipped them into the mailbox before he had a chance to locate or intercept them.

She’s been watching way too much of that damn spy show…

There wasn’t much he could do, though he believed enough in the mail censor division of the SSS to scan the letter’s properly for potential espionage, he couldn’t stomach the thought of them reading about-

Yuri slammed his face into the closest wall to banish that thought from his mind. He’d stop the next correspondence. He had to know that things were respectful between his sister and the bastard. For her.

Another two weeks passed and Yuri was prepared this time. He managed to sneak the letters away without alerting Bond (food was an excellent distraction for the dog) allowing him to sneak into his room, drop off the letters there, retrieve his briefcase for work and dash out the door.

Shockingly, the letters somehow made their way to the coffee table that evening before he returned…tiny bite marks in the envelopes and an almost smug look on the mutt’s muzzle telling him everything he needed to know.

Oh. This is war.

Third time would be the charm, right?

No. Though he did manage to hide the letter for longer than a few hours this time. Yor had come across them while cleaning and Yuri had needed to come up with a convincing lie that they must have been stuck to his own mail and he forgot to give them back that morning!

He couldn’t be angry at anyone but himself.

Fourth time would certainly be the day!

(This time it was work that summoned him right as the mail arrived… he still managed to hide the letters longer this time around, until they accidentally fell out of his briefcase and he hadn’t managed to find them when he cleaned up. He could only surmise that they had fallen under the dresser that the phone was on and either Anya or Bond found it later that evening).

Maybe the fifth time…

Loidy’s next letter didn’t come on the usual day of the week that it had the past two times, but only because that day fell on a national holiday and mail wasn’t delivered that day. Instead, office workers and students would enjoy a longer weekend and the mail would resume on the Saturday after.

Fortune smiled down on Yuri since the mailman came while Yor had taken Anya and Bond out for a walk. With the mutt and girl gone, there would be no interruptions. With the mail in hand, Yuri practically ran to his room and closed the door. Risking a papercut, he used his fingers to open the letter and pulled the paper from the envelope addressed to his sister.

“Dear Yor, If my math is right you’ll likely receive this letter just after the holiday so, Happy Belated Republic Day! I hope you and Anya enjoyed some time off from work and school”-

BANG!

“BONDO!” A voice, his sister, yelped following the sound of a door slamming into the wall. “ANYA! Sto-”

The door to his room flung open before Yor could admonish or round up the youngest members of the Forger household, a picture of his sister threatening to fall from the wall at the veracity. In the doorway stood a red faced Anya Forger and a hackles up and teeth bared Bond.

“What the-”

“I KNEW IT!” Anya screeched, pointing an accusatory finger at her uncle. “Mama! Uncle Yuri has our letters!”

“...what?” Yor asked, her confused eyes lifting to him.

“What?” Yuri yelped at the (true) accusation. How could she possibly know?

“That’s Papa’s handwriting in your hand, Uncle Yuri!” The kid accused as if she had read his mind.

Yuri blanched. “N-No it’s not! You can’t see from that far away!”

Anya huffed and stalked forward, kicking him in the shin before taking the letter and envelope from his hand and marching back over to her mother. “Mama, look.”

Yor blinked, looking between her yelping brother and daughter, wondering just what the hell was going on. With trembling hands, she accepted the offered envelope and only felt her heart drop as she read the date on the letter and the greeting. “Y…Yuri…what’s going on?”

“It’s not what you think, Nee-san!” he attempted to soothe, his voice cracking a bit under the strain. “I just-it would be easier for you to read the letter if it was already open! Then you wouldn’t have to worry about cutting it took sharply and -”

His sister’s eyes hardened, mouth setting in a firm line as she glared up at her brother. “Who told you it was okay to open someone else’s mail?” She demanded, stalking forward past Anya who now had her hand tight on Bond’s collar, holding him back. “What if it was an official correspondence from my work? What if it was from Loid’s command?”

“I-I already knew it wasn’t! It was addressed from Loidy and in his handwriting so-”

“But why would you open it? I’ve been doing it myself ever since he left and haven’t once cut myself. I’m very good with…just what gave you the idea that this would be okay?”

“I-well, a-at work, I-”

“But this is home, Uncle Yuri!” Anya piped in, glaring daggers. “Not super secret stupid work!”

Yuri hadn’t felt like a deer in the headlights since that day in the sewers of Shellbury, coming face to face with a near perfect doppelganger creation of Agent Twilight. Ruby red, emerald green and deep onyx all stared at him, each demanding a true answer for his behavior. “That’s not what I do!” He squeaked.

“Then what exactly is going on here?!” Yor shook her head as if trying to chase her rising anger away. “I know…I know this hasn’t been an easy transition for you, living here with us, Yuri, but I thought I had taught you better than this growing up.”

It was as if the rug had been pulled out from under his feet leaving him adrift on a fathomless sea. His mouth opened and closed, trying to find words. In the end…he couldn’t figure out any kind of justification. But the truth squeaked from his lips. “I…I just wanted to make sure he was treating you well.”

He instantly wished he had never opened his mouth, that he had never thought of this stupid plan.

His sister’s expression cracked, hurt flashing across her face before hardening into something cold and distant. In a fluid, almost unseen motion, she picked up the other letter on his bed (Anya’s), scanned it before passing it to the girl and shooing the girl and dog from the room.

“Scary…” Anya muttered, pushing Bond out the door almost as quickly as she arrived.

Yuri had never truly seen his sister at her angriest, frankly he didn’t think she had a temper. She was kind and sweet, caring, strong, independent…a whole treasure trove of positive adjectives. And yet, at this very moment, Yor Briar-no… Yor Forger was well and truly angry. Eyes narrowed, warmth drained from them and replaced with sharpened rubies, brows furrowed, fingers tight in a fist that most definitely would draw blood.

“Were you going to do the same to Anya’s letter? Confirm that he’s not some neglectful or abusive parent?” She hissed, her voice low and seething. “Were you going to insist on reading our letters before we send them too? The SSS already does that, Yuri! Our correspondence with my husband is just that, private correspondence. He’s been nothing but wonderful to Anya and I, Yuri.” Her voice cracked for a second. “He loves that girl with everything in his being and only wants what's best for her. And he’s the only man who’s ever truly accepted me as I am regardless of what people say about me.”

“That’s not true, Nee-san! I have-”

“Loid never read my personal mail while we lived under the same roof!” She shot back, that sadness fading back into the anger. “Do not touch our mail ever again or I’ll kick you out. I’ll speak personally to the mailman to ensure this never happens again.”

“Nee-san! I’m-”

The force of the door slamming shut caused his collection of Yor photos to crash to the floor.

“It’s just one bottle, Yor, and we’ll split it. You look like you could use a wind-down.”

That’s how all of this started...and she didn’t really regret it.

Since Loid had been called to war, Franky had made himself more available to Yor and Anya in nearly every way imaginable. Opening up his hours for baby or dog sitting, helping Anya with whatever school work he could (mostly science though that usually meant making contraptions or performing experiments), bringing over food a few times a week for a time, and other things here and there. Once Yor had gotten considerably better at cooking, she insisted he come over a few times a week so she could return the favor for all the food he brought. He had been hesitant at first, but after trying her Southern Stew he was sold.

That was until Yuri came back...

Franky and Yuri hadn’t exactly hit it off, with her brother being more than a little suspicious of this man hanging around a married woman and the curly haired man being on edge about her brother. They were civil enough once Yor explained who Franky was and what he had done to help her and Anya in the year and change that Yuri had been gone, but that underlying edge and suspicion never truly went away.

Just another thing to add to Yor’s growing list of things she had to deal with alone.

How she missed Loid... Even if her brother was a handful when it came to her husband, at least Loid knew how to redirect and move the conversation along. Knew how to reinforce a boundary. Knew how to-

“...Okay. Yeah I think that should be alright...”

Yor quietly picked up the remnants of dinner and brought them to the kitchen as Franky grabbed the wine glasses. Before entering the kitchen, she took a glance down the hallway to confirm Anya’s door was closed and Bond wasn’t loitering in the hall. Yuri was working a late shift so she likely wouldn’t see him until tomorrow morning. Satisfied, she headed to the sink and turned on the water to start cleaning when a hand rested on her arm. She turned to find Franky’s red framed eyes on her. His expression wasn’t quite a frown, but something almost...somber as he shook his head.

“Leave them for now. Let’s unwind for a bit. I’ll get them clean before I go.”

“Oh but-”

“Yor. Please?”

It was hard to say no to Franky, in a similar way to saying no to Anya or Yuri.

She shut off the water and pulled her hands away, readjusting her red sleeves back to her wrist. “Alright,” She smiled faintly. “Thank you, Franky.”

“Don’t mention it,” His expression brightened a bit. “Why don’t you head to the couch? I’ll be there in just a minute.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, heading over to the living space and sinking down into the couch. The black leather gave her presence, letting her sink into it comfortably. It wasn’t as comfortable as her bed but it would do for unwinding. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back into the support cushions and just breathed. Franky wasn’t quiet on his feet, but his footfalls weren’t loud either so she could hear him approach and opened her eyes the moment he was seated beside her.

He offered her a glass filled about halfway with red wine which she took without hesitation. “Thank you.”

He nodded in answer before lifting his glass in a toast. “To a moment of rest!”

She saluted the toast before both of them brought the glasses to their lips and took a sip.

They stayed in companionable silence for at least the first two glasses. She wasn’t entirely sure when the silence gave way to light conversation since she was more interested in the warmth that came with the wine. The way the tension in her muscles eased, the way her mind stopped mulling over the same five points in a ridiculous circle, and...

“...Had to tell the idiot for the millionth time that I’m a simple business man not an animator,” Franky cackled, regaling Yor with another story of his misadventures with her husband. “Not that he didn’t pay and credit me for my contribution, but he always just assumes I could help him without simply inquiring first. When he gets back, I-”

Silence descended over the duo, thick and tense. Coating the walls and air with it, nearly pressing on her chest and suffocating her.

She could ask. Probably should ask if he had heard from Loid in the past few weeks. Of course, Loid had mentioned in his last letter to her that getting mail out might be difficult for a time considering that the camp would be moving, but he hadn’t been able to specify why or for how long.

Every day that passed without word from her far off husband was like a knife to the ribs. It was likely worse for Franky since he and Loid were actually friends. She was just the fake wife of convenience.

In one fluid motion, she downed the rest of the wine in her glass and grabbed the bottle to refill it. She didn’t want to spend this time moping. Not when Franky was being so kind and generous with the wine.

Once the fuzziness sank into her thoughts again, she turned a smile on the scruffy man. He cleared his throat, a flush on his cheeks probably from the alcohol.

“That is to say, I’ll be happy to have him back,” He shoved a finger in Yor’s face a second later. “But you can’t tell Loidman that.”

For some reason, the finger in her face made her laugh and she crossed an X over her breast. “Not a word!” She giggled, words slurring together.

Franky retrieved his finger and topped off his glass, though he didn’t sip it immediately. Instead he held it between his hands and stared at the deep red liquid. She wasn’t quite sure about his expression but he looked deep in thought.

“Say...Yor?”

“Hmm?”

“Have...have you and Anya been adjusting okay to having your brother here?”

Yor stiffened, grip tightening on her glass just a bit.

“I know you love him and all, but Anya’s been calling me almost every day after school and...” He took a deep breath. “And you haven’t been yourself when you are home.”

Her eyes stung as she blinked up at the ceiling. She knew things had been tense since the incident nearly a week ago and probably wouldn’t ease up until someone gave in.

It wasn’t going to be her. She swore to Anya that she wouldn’t tolerate what had happened from anyone, especially from Yuri. Regardless of how much she loved him.

“Yuri...we had a fight.” Yor admitted slowly, taking a breath. “A few weeks ago...or was it a month ago? Two months? I can’t remember...anyway! He started collecting the mail from the mailman for us when he would get home since he’s been working late shifts. At first, I thought it was because he wanted to be more helpful around the house…but apparently I was wrong.” She pinched the cuffs of her sweater. “It started almost immediately after I caught him reading Loid’s letter over my shoulder. It felt kinda…weird to me, so I stopped him and finished reading the letter in another room, but I think that’s what triggered everything.” She rolled her neck and explained everything else concisely from Anya and Bond rushing her home, to the shouting match and ultimately Yuri admitting that he was doing it because he just wanted to “make sure he (Loid) was treating her well”. “And we, well, I haven’t spoken more than three words to him since then. He’s tried to apologize but I just…can’t let this stand.”

“What the...That’s...” Franky breathed.

The pause made Yor squirm. “I’m blowing this out of proportion, aren’t I?”

“No.” Franky stated firmly, throwing his hands up in outrage. “No. His actions are ridiculous! You should have kicked him to the curb for that!”

Yor fiddled with her fingernails. “I-I couldn’t do that to him. H-he’s my brother. Yeah he-”

Fingers curled under Yor’s chin, drawing her attention. Had she been any more drunk, she probably would have sent Franky through the wall, but she gripped her hands together to stop the reflex. He wasn’t an enemy. Franky was her...friend? Maybe?

“Yor,” The man’s voice held no slur to it but his breath still smelt of alcohol. His eyes held an unfocused fire conveying how serious he was. “What he did isn’t acceptable and his justification is bullshit. If he wanted to know that Loid treated you well, all he had to do was look around. Loid didn’t leave you and Anya destitute for almost two years and he communicates with you as frequently as the post allows him too. He’s being an idiot. And I’m not saying this because the kid and I are barely civil. I’m saying this because he hurt you and Anya with his actions. And I’ll happily kick him out personally or contact the proper authority about his mail tampering. You and Anya and Bond don’t deserve what he was doing.”

“But-But won’t that hurt his job at the embassy! I can’t -”

Franky’s eyes softened. “Okusan, I don’t believe it will impact his job at all. But this isn’t something you need to deal with on your own and Loid might not be here to help you, but I am. I promised him I would help you both. Please...you don’t have to do this by yourself, especially when its hurting you.”

Her vision swam as tears filled her eyes. She’d blame the alcohol for how easily her resolve faltered in the morning.

But she let her face fall into her hands and sobbed.

“Hey, Spook…Hello yourself! Listen, I need a favor… Remember that family I asked you to look over the adoption paperwork for?... Yeah, that’s the one! The wife has a brother who’s been living with her since he returned from the front and has officially overstayed his welcome...No he didn’t lay a hand on her or the kid. But he’s been stealing their mail. Is there an...oh you can? Perfect. Thank you. I owe you, man.”

“State Security reporting line. How may I help you?”

“Hello, yes, I’d like to make a report about mail tampering.”

“Of course.”

“Briar!” A terse voice called from the locker room door. “My office. Now.”

Yuri blinked, left shoe halfway laced up and body stiff at the tone of his superior’s voice. With a muffled curse, he quickly pulled the rest of his uniform together and rushed out the door.

His captain was only a few paces away, but Yuri took the moment’s his steps took to follow to ensure his uniform was presentable. Did I leave a report unfinished? A post brief inadequate? He ran through multiple scenarios in his head trying to determine just what he was being summoned for…and came up empty. Palms sweating, he saluted the man from the doorway of his office and waited for instructions.

“Sit.” The order came swiftly as the blonde rounded the desk and slapped his hat on the wood before sitting down.

With a restrained wince, Yuri did as instructed, sitting tensely in the offered chair. Clearly his superior was irritated…but why?

“In moments like this, sometimes I wonder if you ever think at all, Briar,” the man said lowly before picking up a report and half slamming it on the desk before Yuri. The junior officer carefully took it and flipped it open, his blood immediately running cold. “This morning, we received a report regarding mail tampering. From Yor Forger.”

Yuri blanched. He hadn’t properly spoken to his sister since the incident but he never thought - “I can explain!”

The captain leaned back in his own chair, steepling his fingers. “Let’s hear it.”

He fidgeted under the scarred gaze but spoke clearly. “I had…concerns about how secretive she was regarding some mail she received. So I investigated.”

“Why?” Scarred eyes narrowed. “We’ve already cleared Mrs. Forger.”

“They…were from her husband…”

“For fuck’s sake…” He cursed, throwing his hands up. “He’s already been cleared! Dr. Forger’s background and associates have all been thoroughly investigated at your insistence and he came back clean! Why else do you think he’s been permitted high access to the medical division!”

“Then why would Nee-san hide the letters if there's nothing to hide!” Yuri countered.

“Because they are from her husband and personal?!” The captain yelled, rising to his feet and slamming a hand on the table. “Damnit, Yuri. This isn’t healthy behavior. Your sister is allowed to converse privately with her husband regarding matters of their own discretion. She is under no obligation to tell you anything that goes on in her married life.”

“What if-”

“If he was hurting her, you would have seen the evidence by now, right?! He’s been gone for two years. If there was abusive behavior going on, she would have filed for divorce or left him.”

“She might not know that she can do that!”

The captain’s face flattened farther. “So she’s incapable of managing her life.”

Yuri sputtered. “No! That’s not-”

“Then what is it, Yuri? According to the evidence I’ve seen, your sister seems to have found a man she gets along with, trusts, and cares about enough to take in his daughter from a previous marriage as her own. Either she’s a good judge of character to a saintly degree or she should be under guardianship by the state? Which is it?”

Any argument sputtered in his brain as he considered that. His sister could be a little scatter brained from time to time, but not to the point of endangering herself or those in her care. She had needed to raise him after all, and had to know who were good people he could be around and away from those that weren’t. He had no one else that could have protected him during those fragile formative years and even if he didn’t trust anyone outside of his sister, she had instilled in him a healthy dose of caution. Would it be disingenuous to say that she didn’t possess that caution herself?

Slowly, he felt his body crumple and his face fell into his hands. “She’s a good judge of character,” He sighed.

“Then trust her.”

When had he started to distrust Yor? It felt unfathomable and yet here he was, drowning in the consequence of just that.

His captain took back the report folder and set it to the side. “On top of that, the letter you tampered with had already been thoroughly checked by our mail audit team and cleared. It had the proper stamps and seals, all of which I’m assuming you overlooked in your witch hunt,” The man sighed. “Which leaves me with very little options as to what we can do now. This is a minor infraction and your record has been spotless to this point, but I can see the writing on the wall. As your superior, I’m considering transferring you to another unit, likely outside of Berlint.”

Yuri’s head snapped up at that, red eyes frantically wide. “What! Y-You can’t! Ne-”

The man lifted a hand to cut him off. “However, as your mentor, I could be persuaded to change that if you were to move back into an apartment of your own. Too many families have been weakened and destroyed by the conflicts of the last several decades, and I know your sister is all you have. I know you love and cherish her deeply, but when it comes to her it’s difficult for you to follow protocol.” He gestured to the report. “If you thought there was something suspicious about her letters, we could have simply contacted the mail audit unit that it passed through and verified with the agent responsible for the clearance grade. Instead, you chose to actively disrupt your living situation and damage your relationship with your sister and your niece.” He took a breath, folding his hands together over the report. “Therefore, it is in my personal opinion that a little distance between you both would do everyone some good.”

The younger man considered the proposal and found it difficult to find a flaw in the argument. While there had been a high of coming back to Yor in the hours and days of being back home from Verland, hindsight allowed him to now see things that he shouldn’t have let slip, on and off the clock. He had always been intense in his work, a perfectionist by necessity, but had his brutality gotten out of hand?

And what of Yor? Has his sister been happy? In those first days, of course she had…but that had faded just a bit because she needed to put her energy into caring for Anya. Even before the mail incident, there had been things that his sister had stopped bringing up or redirected away from - mostly about Loid. Had she done that because he would get moody as a result? Or how she had started inviting Franky over to either watch Anya or send him a meal only after Yuri was gone for the night in order to prevent an altercation? Or how she redirected Anya in the days following a letter from the girl’s father so as to not set him off?

Hindsight is much clearer, they say. And Yuri was living it now at this moment.

Living separately from his sister had been both a burden (for not seeing her as often as he would like) and a blessing. At a distance he could focus and remember who he was and why he did what he did.

His captain was right.

“I’ll…I’ll move out.”

“Very well,” His captain sat up a little straighter. “This will be your assignment for today - go and find an available apartment. If you need assistance, ask Chloe if she doesn’t mind assisting. Then we’ll get you moved in as soon as possible.”

“And if that takes a few days?”

“You can stay at my place if need be. The couch is comfortable enough from my experience.”

Yuri blinked at that before frowning. “Do I want to know why you were sleeping on the couch in your own apartment?”

The Captain smirked before lighting up a fresh cigarette. “Probably not. Though it is clean, so don’t worry about that.”

Why am I surrounded by lewd people!?

Bond's ears flick upright as static clears from his mind.

Through the static he sees a door. The door to his home and hears a knock at it. Anya runs to open it and...

Bond looks around rapidly...but nothing happens.

Maybe it's too early?

The phone rings instead.

Chapter Text

Twilight gritted his teeth as he stitched another vein. The sounds of combat were uncomfortably close, though mortars hadn’t started shaking the camp just yet so they still had a little time. Hopefully it would be enough to save this young man’s life. He and his team would need to finish this quickly and he bit back curses at himself as his fingers fought to shake against the strain.

One stitch at a time. Focus, Tasogare. Slow is steady, steady gains speed.

And speed is what they needed.

“Hahn, how’s that suture going?” He called out, sliding the needle again into place as his assistant held the vessel steady with forceps.

“Almost complete,” the junior surgeon returned, his voice almost flat in concentration. “Five more and the wound will be closed.”

“Excellent.” Twilight half muttered in praise, the vessel in his care almost complete. His eye trailed over the rest of the wound quickly, counting again how many vessels still needed repair.

Two.

They could do this.

Another explosion sounded, closer than the previous ones…maybe? He wasn’t entirely sure. But that wasn’t great either way.

“Doc-” one of the medic’s called out, voice drenched in panic.

“Rolf, how are those transport trucks looking?” Twilight cut him off, tying off the last knot for the vessel.

“R-ready, sir!” Rolf answered, voice still jittery.

“Get the engine started,” the spy-surgeon called, nodding to his assistant to unclamp the vessel. The stitches held and he turned his attention quickly to the final vein. “We’ll move out in,” He looked up to meet Hahn’s gaze and the younger man lifted his pinky and flicked it thrice. “Five. Any more than that and we likely won’t be able to get out of here.” His gaze flicked to the medic running anesthesia, who reluctantly nodded.

Mental countdown began as Rolf snapped to attention and rushed out to the prepared vehicles. Within two, the last vein was closed and by four he was able to get the full wound 50% closed. With thirty seconds to spare, he tied off the last suture and secured a sterile bandage before the surgeons pulled away and four medics took the gurney, IV line, and oxygen before rushing out of the tent towards the truck. Tearing off his gloves and gown, Twilight followed suit, keen eyes scanning the skies and grounds.

The fighting was still a few miles off, it would be tight depending on when command issued the full retreat, but they would be able to get at least a head start. He helped the medics load his patient into the covered truck bed and secured the door once all were within. Slapping the side of the truck thrice, he yelled for them to get going before dashing to snag a duffel near the surgeon tent entrance and vault into the second truck bed. Confirming everyone was within, he knocked on the window connecting to the truck cab and they were off.

The jitters of adrenaline were still coursing through Twilight’s veins after a few miles, even as the convoy slowed once the sounds of combat grew fainter and fainter. The radio in Rolf’s hands still crackled to life every three minutes, reporting on the patient’s status, which Twilight did pay attention to…but his mind and hands would drift between bursts of static. Fingers slipped into the breast pocket of his uniform, brushing against a folded piece of paper or drift into the small external pocket of his duffel and caressed a folded ribbon. He didn’t take either out even if he knew that no one would fault him from doing so.

It was a routine by this point, to find Loid Forger holding onto things sent to him by his family back home after difficult procedures. Hahn had never batted an eye at it and, truly, none of the medics had thought it odd. In fact, his team seemed more willing to do the same with letters and trinkets from their loved ones openly since he started doing it.

Was it a good thing? Even if it wasn’t…he didn’t think he could stop.

And that probably wasn’t good. Not for a spy…

But it kept him from focusing on how he recognized his last patient…the sole survivor of a helicopter crash. Short brown hair, tall build, a familiar name hanging on the dog tags around his neck-

“...ctor?” Hahn's voice cut through his thoughts, snapping Twilight back into the moment. Blue eyes landed on the younger man, brown eyes giving him a look.

“Hm? Sorry Hahn…what was that?”

“You should rest for a bit, Doctor,” he repeated, which explained the look. Even if Hahn was his junior officer, there were times when he'd do this…especially if he knew that “Loid” was going to work himself to the brink. “We're in a safer spot for the time being and three back to back procedures is exhausting.”

Twilight narrowed his eyes slightly. “By that logic, you should rest too, Lieutenant.”

“And I will,” Hahn answered, stifling a yawn. “Rolf's good with the radio and he or Tanner can wake us if something comes up.”

Twilight's fingers pinched at the ribbon in his bag. He shouldn't sleep out in the open like this…but he was exhausted, as the tremble in his hands at the end of the last surgery had confirmed. And Hahn didn't look ready to give him an inch on it…

“Alright. But wake me in either thirty minutes or if there's an emergency.”

Rolf saluted stiffly, clutching the radio, while Tanner gave a less sharp one. “Yes sir.”

Clutching his duffel tightly to his chest, Twilight curled into a more comfortable position and closed his eyes. The patient is stable. We saved him.

We saved Dominic.

One thing Yor worked hard to shield Anya from since…the beginning was the news reports about the war.

Whether or not it was sensationalized or sanitized for civilian audiences, the reports weren't meant for children's ears, especially with how frightening they had become since Loid's last letter. Over the course of the conflict, battle lines had been redrawn over and over again, victories and defeats littered the map and the tally of the dead continued to grow every day. Some days, slowly. Other days…

Though she had greater reason to keep it from Anya's attention.

Loid's frightening silence.

According to the reports Yor did see, it appeared that Ostania's ally was rapidly losing ground. It wasn't a full retreat, according to the broadcasters…but that very well could have been a lie.

Actually, Yor was convinced it was.

Because Loid's letters stopped.

Dominic's to Camilla had too.

And that was frightening.

Every day, she would wake up and tell herself that she wouldn't watch the nightly news after Anya went to bed. That it would only make her more anxious, more uncertain…more afraid of a knock at the door or a ring from the telephone.

And every night she would cave. Anya would watch Bondman and then run off to her bath to prepare for sleep, and Yor would somehow always forget to turn it off. And by the time she would come back…her fingers would be turning the dial to the the news channel.Just in case.

And every night she would go to bed with an anxious heart and tears burning her eyes. Because even the reports gave her no answers.

Someone had turned the little radio in the break room to a news channel. Usually, it was tuned into a local music station, something soothing and relaxing. But someone must have been eager to hear the on-goings of the world and hadn't changed it back. It had been playing so softly that no one had really noticed it until there was a lull in conversation as each of the City Hall girls put a bite of food in their mouths.

"…can confirm that several Ostanian helicopters were shot down. We have no reports of casualties at this time as…"

The air suddenly grew cold as Yor and Camilla's eyes met. The latter's cheeks were puffed slightly with the bite she had taken just seconds prior, but the pallor of her face was slowly changing from pale to green.

Within a blink of an eye, both women were on their feet and sprinting towards the bathroom. Yor managed to swallow her food and yelped for people to get out the way as they dashed. Amazingly, coworkers quickly heeded the call and moved, giving Camilla precious seconds.

Minutes later, she was trembling next to the toilet, her stomach empty. Strands of blonde hair Yor hadn’t managed to wrangle into a crude ponytail plastered to her face. Her skin had returned to a more pale complexion, though much paler than her usual tone, and her eyes closed. She was barely aware of her surroundings, but she could feel something cool on her neck and a soft hand on her back rubbing comforting circles.

The only thought running painfully through her mind were five words. Ostanian helicopters were shot down.

In general, watching Dominic go off to war had been earth shattering. She wouldn't have held him back from serving his duty…but she knew of the risks. And there wasn't a day that went by when she didn't wish that the military had given him a job similar to that of City Hall. Her husband didn't have a mean bone in his body and surely the front would be difficult for him. He didn't have any advanced medical training or diplomacy that could put him further behind the line nor did he have a history with cooking or machinery. So he was trained and given a gun and told where to go and what to do, like all the rest.

And that still terrified Camilla.

A while back, Dominic had mentioned there were helicopters in the area. It had been too broad of a statement to tell anything significant, but if he had been nearby when those Ostanian he-

"Camilla?" A soft, hesitant voice broke through her thoughts. "Would you like some water? To help rinse your mouth? I-It'll help, I'm pretty sure and-"

Years ago, she would have found Yor's stumbling to be unhelpful, frustrating, and tone deaf. But now…

The two of them had a common ground. If Yor had been in her position, Camilla would have tried anything to offer comfort even if she was hopelessly bad at it. So she nodded while reaching over to grab some toilet paper. "Thanks, Yor," She croaked.

The comforting warmth of the hand on her back lifted, the only sign that Yor was leaving until the door shut. Had she always been that quiet?

Camilla shrugged it off while taking a deep breath and wiping any spit or bile from her face. Standing was a little precarious, but holding onto the walls made it easier as she made her way over to the sink and washed her hands before washing her face. The cool water felt good on her skin though she knew her makeup would be hopeless.

But that didn't matter.

Smudged mascara, vanished powder and blush…none of it would mean a damn thing.

As she took the cup of water from Yor and swished to remove the awful taste from her mouth, Camilla realized just how in limbo she was. Hearing from the news was one thing. But no honor guard had come to find her either the night before or that morning…and surely they would have in order to ensure the next of kind didn't hear it from the news of all things…right?

That had to mean something.

Dom, she thought, almost prayed. If you're dead, I'll bring you back and kill you myself.

After weeks of rapid retreat and advance, being chased nearly to the edge of the territory and back, everything ended in an armistice.

Not overwhelming victory.

Not peace.

Just laying down of arms. Lines firmly drawn in the earth. Prisoners of war and the dead exchanged to be returned home.

As days went by, they wondered if the fragile end to violence will break…and by dawn the guns are still not firing.

It's only after weeks of this that the Ostanian military consider reducing their presence in Verland.

On the front, weary troops await with barely disciplined patience for their orders to go home.

On the home front…

"Cammi! CAMMI!"

The shout broke through Camilla's concentration on the document before her, her fingers stiffening reflexively to prevent an incorrect letter from being pressed and ruining her work. Blue eyes snapped up, narrowed to slits as she finds the source of the interruption. This is the last document assigned to her for the day and she just wants-

"Cammi!" Millie cried out again, stumbling over to the blonde's desk, slightly out of breath. "Come…come quick!"

The urgency in the younger coworker's voice had Camilla on her feet…but her knees trembled. "What happened?"

Millie's fingers curled around her own and in a sudden burst of strength, she pulled the older woman after her. "No time to explain! Just…come on!"

A pair of shoes followed after them and Camilla can only catch a glimpse of Yor and Sharon running after them. The group dashed through City Hall and it took her a few moments to realize they were headed towards the front door. Why?

Why are we running?

"Millie, this better not be som-"

Her words caught harshly in her throat as they entered the atrium and she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. She turned, eyes widening to take in the sight before her. Only a meter or so away was a pair of men, one she didn't recognize and another she knew all to well…seated in a wheelchair. Both were donned in military garb but the one in the chair had his right arm in a sling. He had clearly been seriously injured…

"Dominic?" the word spilled from her lips as quietly as breath.

That all too familiar smile pulled at his lip, tired eyes meeting hers. His left hand gripped the arm of the wheelchair and his arm strained, as if he was trying to get up.

"Sargent, don't-" the man behind Dominic began, but before he could finish, his charge slumped back into the seat, exhausted.

Camilla dashed over, her hands hovering, unsure of where she could touch…unsure if this was real or not.

Dominic must have seen that hesitation clear on her face. With a tender smile he reached out with his uninjured hand and grasped one of hers, bringing it to an unmarred cheek. His body seemed to relax, as if he had been holding his breath for days, and turned to press a kiss to her palm.

"I'm home, my darling."

And the tears couldn't be held back.

Camilla's knees finally gave way and her face pressed into his lap, chest heaving from unrestrained sobs.

He's home! He's safe! …hurt but safe!

He's finally home!

If Twilight knew anything from the Ostania/Westalis conflicts, the "peace" here in Verland would likely constantly rest on the edge of a knife, teetering back and forth until either war broke out again or genuine steps towards true peace were taken. Steps that would likely involve more espionage, more spying on everyone, and more fear of things blowing up at the edge of everyone's mind.

It wasn't a happy ending.

But it was an ending.

Two months passed and units finally started receiving orders to return home. There was still reports that new units would refresh some of the ones returning in order to maintain a presence and/or train the Verlanders to maintain their new boarders, perhaps even maintain a base or two, but the majority of the force would slowly leave.

It wasn't until three months from the armistice that Loid Forger received word that he was finally going home.

And Twilight wasn't sure why he suddenly felt so much lighter. He knew that returning to Ostania meant returning to Strix and all it's grueling glory. Knew it meant being under Handler's thumb once more. Knew that the time as a soldier was done and the spy must return.

But he still can't stop the pep in his step. The smile that pulled at his lip. The way his shoulders relaxed and the way everything just felt so right.

The world may not be at peace, but for some reason he was.

And that feeling only grew stronger as he boarded the plane back to Ostania.

Back home.

Since the termination of her role as assistant to Dr. Forger and the connection to Strix that came with that, Nightfall had done everything within her power to avoid topics pertaining to her mentor. She avoided Franklin's tobacco stand (even when the informant was, begrudgingly, a helpful asset), kept to the opposite side of Berlint from the Forger residence, and threw herself 500% into every mission Handler assigned her. At first, it was to work off the rage and banish the hurt from her heart, like draining an abscess. Then it turned into filling the silence as much as possible, like packing a deep wound.

And, after literal months passed, it felt like the stitches were holding. She could and did find true satisfaction in her work, almost as if she was connecting with that younger self of hers that had reason to join WISE and commit to the grueling life of espionage. What had been her original goal before meeting the enigmatic Twilight?

Who was she as Nightfall? Was she simply Twilight's shadow, a potential and hopeful partner as she had longed to be for so long, or was she something else?

The distance gave her time to think, to ponder, and rediscover. To see things a bit more clearly, even when it hurt.

So today she prodded the proverbial stitches, testing out just how healed she was.

Talking about another spy's assignment wasn't typical unless it was need to know. She knew this as a rule even if she had abused that rule several times in the past to become need to know in order to ensure she was in the loop on her mentor's missions. But this time, the opportunity approached her rather than the other way around.

Handler had summoned her to Safe House F for a debriefing on a recently completed assignment. Punctual as always, Nightfall arrived with minutes to spare and everything in order. The last mission hadn't been too difficult and she was sure this meeting would be extremely short after handing over her report.

But Handler wasn't looking at her when she came in. Nor was she seated at her desk either looking over reports or drinking a cup of coffee. Instead the redhead was pinning pictures and details to a corkboard just beyond her desk.

A very familiar diagram of pictures, string and notes.

Strix.

"Good day, or perhaps good evening, Handler." Nightfall greeted, doing everything in her power to not fidget as she came to a stop at Handler's desk.

Handler didn't turn towards her for a long moment. "Ah, Tobari! Right on time," there was a lightness in her voice that Nightfall really couldn't place. "Have a seat."

Nightfall did as she's told, but her eye focused on the board behind the desk. Images of the Desmond's, Eden College, persons of interest, Stellas and Toritus, and other key details of the operation as a whole that she could recall were meticulously repined to the board by Handler's steady hand. And all of it brought an unbidden question to her lips.

"Operation Strix is making progress?"

"It has been," Handler retorted with a flick of her wrist. "Albeit, slowly. I'm assuming you heard the news about Verland?"

Nightfall blinked, going through recent memories to determine what the other woman was referring to. Of course the armistice had been signed months prior and reintegration of troo-

It suddenly hit her.

"Tasogare is returning?"

"Friday he'll be back in the country," Handler revealed, tone light until her hand stiffened and she slowly turned to face the younger agent.

Nightfall knew from years of practice that her expression was perfectly flat but her Handler knew her better than anyone. If there was a sign or a tell to how she felt obvious on her visage, Handler would know and address it accordingly.

"I know the two of you parted on poor terms," Handler continued cautiously. "And I will not ask you to resume your previous role, but I think it's fair for you to know that he's returning in case you run into him here."

Nightfall accepted that with a nod and set her report on the desk.

Back before her termination of Fiona Frost, she would have demanded more information or requested to be part of the reintegration team. But now…now she just wanted to return to her current cover and continue with her own mission. Her own "life".

Handler may have either seen her discomfort or disinterest since she turned quickly to the report and the two discussed the details of her mission and how "Noemi" was integrating into her "new life".

But later, when she finally made it home to her small apartment and warming up a meal, her thoughts swirled back to the news she had been given. Twilight was returning to Ostania. Operation Strix would be back at full capacity. And that would mean that the Forger family would be reunited.

In the days after their disagreement, Twilight's words had reverberated in her head time and time again. She could recall the conversation clearly down to the smallest detail…and the part that had hurt the most was still painful.

"You are a great assistant, but that's the only role I've needed from you. I don't want anything further than that."

It was as if for a moment he could see beyond what she carefully portrayed. And for some time after she genuinely considered that maybe he had heard what she'd said to Wheeler. Maybe he'd always known and teased her this whole time. But the way he had softened afterwards didn't fit with either of those explanations. Maybe he was still just professional under it all and speaking his mind.

Still, it hurt to be relegated to the background. To hear proof from his own lips that he didn't see her as anything beyond a coworker, his protégé…and while that didn't mean he didn't care for her…it wasn't what she had wanted.

But now she could see beyond the initial pain and see where she had overstepped. While she had thought she was only attacking Yor Briar's weakness in the Forger home, her last statement of how Anya Forger would have been perfect if she had been disciplined from the start had been an attack on Twilight. It was no wonder he, in turn, lashed out.

And now the guilt of that was needling her from within.

Twilight had been in WISE for far longer than she had, had seen things differently from her from the start and adapted to every problem he was given to the best of his ability. How was it possible for a spy to find a child prodigy in a run down orphanage with minimal records or background checks, train them in what they need to know within a week of the entrance exam, and find someone willing to co-parent a child that isn't theirs. It was a miracle Strix had gotten off the ground in the first place…and she had spat on his efforts.

Glancing at the clock, Nightfall took note of the time.

Maybe…just maybe there was a way to make things easier upon Twilight's return.

It would be her apology.

"Forger residence!"

"…I'm sorry to disturb your evening, Forger-san. I'm just passing along a message. If possible, I recommend taking Friday off."

"…Why?"

"That's the message I've been told to pass along. I don't know anything further."

"Oh. Um…I'll take that into consideration. Thank you, Fiona-san."

"…Goodnight."

Pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes didn't really do much for the headache developing behind them…but it did at least reduce the throb for a few seconds. How long had he been up? When was the last time he drank any water? Or had a bite to eat?

Yuri's stomach growled loudly in reply.

Too long.

And yet, he really wasn't ready to get up and do anything other than work. He had to improve. Had to be better. That's the only way to get back into Nee-san's good gr-

SLAP.

The smack of paper hitting something drew Yuri out of his thoughts and, unfortunately, brought the light back into his eyes, magnifying his headache. He glared up at the intrusion.

Only to be met with an equally irritated expression on Chloe's face.

"Take a look," She stated, arms crossing over her chest. "Maybe this will help with your ever deteriorating mood."

His lips thinned as he turned to look at the folder she had set on his desk. For a long moment, he considered just throwing it in the damn trash to spite her, but his tired eyes caught something on the side. One of the papers had slipped slightly from its confinement and Yuri could make out half of a word in clearly typed ink.

scharge.

Curiosity piqued, Yuri's fingers hesitantly lifted the top of the folder to find a face he had only seen in photographs months ago stare back at him.

Blonde.

Blue eyes.

Serious gaze.

A punchable face.

And at the side, a clear name: Loid Forger.

It was honorable discharge paperwork.

His teeth briefly set on edge only for pain to spike in his head. He relaxed his jaw just enough to stall the pain and chose to glare at the image. Why did she-

And then he saw it. A small note paper clipped to the bottom of the page in a neat cursive: Today. Berlint Station. Platform 6 at 16:20.

It clicked.

Loid Forger was coming home.

Why should that improve my mood?

Unbidden, memories surfaced in his pain clouded mind. Whispers in his sister's letters about loneliness, how she had set up something akin to a shrine in the living room to "include Loid" in their daily lives, the joy she would get from Forger's letters, the way Anya would bounce around for hours after getting her own, the way that light would fade between letters…

His sister and niece's suffering would be coming to an end.

And that's something he should be happy about. Even if it was Loidy causing it.

Pushing aside his headache as best as he could, he glanced up at the clock nearby. He had an hour to get this figured out. His fingers snatched up the paperclip and paper before slapping shut the folder and standing. He pressed the folder into Chloe's closed arms. "Return that where you found it. I'll be stepping out for a bit."

A small, knowing grin pulled at Chloe's lips as she took it back. "I'll let the Captain know," she said and added a wink. "Good luck, Briar."

There's something inherently different about returning to a country you've lived or worked in for years after being away for some time. The air smells different and yet familiar. The language may come easier or harder depending on how immersed you were in the other country. Seeing familiar sights that have changed over time may be startling. It's all the same and yet there's a difference.

It's changed.

But you've changed too.

And that's the first thing Twilight considered as he transfered trains in a boarder town of Ostania. This will be his last transfer before arriving in Berlint… a reality that made his heart race already. It's likely something his fellow soldiers could see, as many of them clap him on the back and smile as they get closer and closer to their destination. All of them are brighter than they had been even just a day before.

All of them are ready to be home.

The last leg of the journey goes by both too slow and too fast. Twilight had to restrain his foot from tapping and his fingers from drumming on his bag as he watched the landscape change from rural to industrial over the course of hours. Maybe it would have been better to join the guys in some card games…but he was doing that with them for the past two days and it had gotten tedious.

It was only when the conductor announced "Next stop, Berlint Station!" that the cold feeling of anxiety began to really seep into his gut. He had barely had the time to send a memo to Handler regarding his return and had no feasible way to inform Yor of it. Not without getting on the SSS's radar for sharing confidential information. This would be a surprise homecoming…

Maybe that was for the best? Yor and Anya would finish out their weeks and return to Park Ave to find Loid waiting for them, a warm meal and bright smiles waiting for them. Yeah…that's what he should do. He'd need to swing by the stores on the way home then. Or maybe drop off his bags first and then get what he needed…

He continued to consider his options as the train pulled into the busy afternoon station. As Twilight disembarked, he felt his expression shift, almost reflexively, into that of psychiatrist Loid Forger. It wasn't that much different from the military medic he had been for months now…but it was different. Like slipping into a winter glove after a year of it being in storage. It still fits, but it might be a little stiff, a little unusual for the first few wears.

He'll adjust. Twilight always has.

Taking a breath, Loid Forger made his way towards the entrance of the station. He still had time to-

"OI!" A voice shouted "Forger!"

It's been a while since he's heard that voice...but he could feel his shoulders tense at the sound.

Taking a moment to adjust his bag and make sure his hat is still in place, Twilight turned to look…and found himself face to face with Yuri Briar. The younger man was in casual garb with a soft cap that covered the top of his hair. It barely poked out from underneath, likely from a still very severe hair style, but his expression and eyes were unmistakable. Even if the kid could spell trouble for him, Twilight couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he approached Loid's brother-in-law.

"Yuri! It's good to see you!"

Something in Yuri's face twisted a bit. The expression wasn't pleasant or happy, but it wasn't cold either. There was a hunch to his shoulders that Twilight could see clearly now and his hands were shoved very deeply into his pockets. Before Twilight could assess this further, the young man spun on his heels.

"Come on," He ordered gruffly. "Nee-san took Ch-Anya and th-Bond to the park."

Twilight registered the emphasis but had no time to inquire as Yuri nearly disappeared into the crowd. With a huff, he followed as quickly as he could, doing his best to not bump into anyone with his bag. Soon, they were both out of the building and in the glow of the late afternoon sun. Twilight found himself fighting the urge to look around and note every change since his last time in Berlint, especially since Yuri was showing no signs of slowing down…and if he wanted to find Anya, Bond and Yor quickly, he was the spy's best chance.

Though it probably would be better to just return to Park Avenue first…even if Yuri wasn't going to let him, it seemed.

The SSS officer guided Twilight effortlessly through the streets of Berlint and the spy took brief note of the changes. He would need to memorize the map of Berlint and find all the new safe houses and meeting locations before being summoned. The paper buried in his bag would tell him most of what he needed to know.

But that was for later.

Yuri's brisk pace finally stopped at the entrance to a familiar park. It wasn't too far from Park Avenue and had been the first one the Forgers had gone too after adopting Bond. The memories it sparked pulled at Twilight's lip, forming something between melancholy and amusement.

"What are you waiting for?" Yuri huffed. His expression screaming that he wanted to be anywhere but there, but his eyes were focused straight ahead.

Twilight turned to look in the same direction.

It was like looking into a dream.

The golden hues of the evening sun flitted through the trees of the park, almost sparkling as they landed on three figures: a blindingly white dog, a pink haired girl that would definitely reach his hip now, and…

Yuri gagged, turning away. "Get out of here, Forger!" He commanded. "And you better be good to them or I'll kill you myself."

Twilight…no…Loid turned to Yuri and smiled helplessly. "Thank you, Yuri."

Yuri's expression was unreadable before he spun on his heel and walked away before Loid could say anything further.

But Loid's feet were already moving by the time Yuri had turned to go, bringing his attention forward as he watched the most precious people in his mission life run around. Hair bouncing, joyful giggling, happy borfs. He wanted to call out. Wanted to shout that he was here now. Wanted-

Anya's face turned sharply, so sharply he almost winced in pain, wide green eyes coming to rest on him. It was so painfully similar to the look she gave him when they first met all those years ago in that rundown orphanage. Wide and questioning and full of wonder…

Before she let out a scream and began sprinting in his direction.

He was running too. Faster. Faster!

His bag fell out of his grip just as Anya lept into the air and he caught her in his arms. Loid swung his daughter around, buried his face in her hair and breathed. Almost immediately, the girl was sobbing. Her not so baby sized hands gripping fiercely into his uniform, tears and snot smudging the fabric. But he didn't care about those little details. All that mattered was that his daughter was in his arms again.

"I'm home, Anya," was all he could manage to say as his throat tightened and his eyes burned. Loid held the girl as tight as he could (without hurting her), his fingers running through her hair as he repeated his assurance over and over and over again.

Only to be knocked down by a large ball of fluff.

Bond didn't quite break up the embrace, but he certainly took the opportunity to lick his master's face as many times as he could while the girl held tightly to her father's shoulder. Loid couldn't help but laugh at it all, even if he really should scold the pup for -

"Bond! Down!" A voice called out, familiar and one that sent his heart thundering into a frenzy.

The dog obeyed, though he did whine and wag his tail as he sat in the grass beside Loid and Anya, silently begging for pets and maybe a hug too. Loid wasn't sure as he shifted to sit himself and Anya upright, but once a hand was free, he did pet the dog's head. "Good boy, Bond," he praised.

The dog was barely containing his excitement but before Loid could consider what to do next, painted nails clipped a leash to Bond's collar and sneakered feet shifted at his side. Loid's eyes traveled up to her face, his breath catching once more in his throat.

"Yor," he breathed, the sound not too much louder or awed as it had been when he said Anya's name moments before. He was really here and really with them.

His girls.

Finally.

Yor's expression was torn, partly nervous, partly teary. Her hands gripped the leash loop just as tightly as she had that day at the train station, wrapping it around her wrist…

Still holding Anya tight to his chest, Loid got to his feet and grasped his wife's hand, stilling the movement. Her eyes met his, wide and bright and teary…

He couldn't stand it.

With a tug of his hand on hers, he pulled her into his embrace. The scent of her soap and Anya's mixing like the most delightful incense he'd ever smelt. It smelt of home, chasing away the blood and smoke and ash that had coated his nose for so long...

For the first time in years, the man who went by Twilight and Loid, who had been Advisor, who had gone by so many names, cracked a little bit. The sting he knew all too well in his childhood overwhelming his eyes and coating his throat with salt. It was unpleasant. It reminded him of days of helplessness and unbearable loss…

But as the tears flowed down his face, it didn't hurt nearly as much. Just like the tears he shed when he saw his dearest childhood friends that day before they vanished forever, it soothed the fire of pain that had sparked in him the day his world came crashing down.

"I'm home," he sobbed into Yor's shoulder, clutching his girls as tight as he could to him. "I'm home."