Archive of Our Own

Yuri Briar is dead.

Twilight, alias Loid Forger, hadn’t been expecting this turn of events. Yes, he was aware of Yuri’s career as a member of the State Secret Security for Ostania, but he proved to not be as much as a threat WISE had originally thought. So they let him be.

Until the day arrived where they should have paid more attention. A report landed on Handler’s desk detailing the failed confrontation between Yuri Briar and an unruly Ostanian dissenter. The SSS officer was tasked with bringing in the man. However, the man refused to go easy and following a long brawl, Yuri was left behind in an alley surrounded by a scarlet pool. He had been shot before he could handcuff the dissenter.

Even Twilight had shivered at how grisly the report had described it.

After a successful and short viewing—both Yor and Anya could barely handle it—now Loid Forger must be a dutiful husband for the funeral as well. Grass crunching under his foot, he walks alongside Yor with Anya clutching his hand, leading the small cluster of people to where Yuri was being laid to rest.

Today a heavy rain falls steadily down as if it wants an opportunity to share in the grievances. Loid is grateful Anya doesn’t stir much as he manages to hold the umbrella for all three of them. The woman besides him trudges forward, more a soldier than an agonized sister.

An excuse had been needed to disguise the truth of Yuri’s death considering Yor hadn’t the slightest clue as to his true career choice. Handler had tentatively prepared one, but the SSS had done the job just fine on their own. When Yor read the letter, her fingers trembling, she learned he had gotten caught up in a scuffle on the street defending an elderly person from a mugger walking back to his apartment. They had pulled a gun on the ministry of foreign affairs employee and Yuri was fatally wounded. Attached to the letter was proof of his death at the hospital.

Yor had shed a few tears, Loid would have been concerned if she hadn’t, but she threw herself in prepping for the viewing and funeral. She hardly explained this stoic behavior of hers. Loid can only attest to the fact Yor loved Yuri. All of her dedication to this morose event proves it.

Yor had told him how much she admires this cemetery. There are plenty of trees and other flora that complement the assortment of grey and brown headstones amidst the grassy plot. Green gives it a lively cheerful tone against the fact there is death beneath the dirt. Simple yet beautiful even in the poor weather, a Briar specialty.

The crowd of black umbrellas gather around the site. An assigned priest leads the procession, going into more detail of the young man's life and how much he had done while here on the Earth.

Loid can see the interesting collage of employees from Berlint City Hall and the Ministry of Affairs, disguised WISE agents (only a couple) and undercover SSS officers all share a serene moment of silence. Rain splattering on the graves is a distant white noise.

No matter what the reasons are for these people to be present, everyone here shares a solemn feeling. If only this sort of peace was attainable all the time.

Anya sneezes as soon as the priest announces his thanks for their gentle reverence. Loid glances down to see his daughter giving him a look of terror.

“It’s okay Anya,” he whispers.

She nods, obviously relieved, switching her hands from him to Yor's skirt.

Dozens of watchful eyes follow Yuri’s coffin as it descends into the ground. There is a thunk, along with a couple last remarks and the funeral concludes.

There's a momentary pause before everyone starts to move around almost as if Yuri demanded a minute longer of their attention. Loid smirks. The crazy kid deserves it if anything else.

“What's that face for?”

Loid glances to his right and sees Franky sliding up next to him.

“Oh, just thinking of Yuri's antics,” he replies, turning to walk with his best informant a little ways from the group. Yor and Anya were already occupied with the other attendees sharing the loss of a dear friend.

Franky falls into step with him between the row of graves. “Yeah he was an interesting one, but gosh I can't imagine what Yor must be going through.”

Loid nodded, arms crossing.

“Have you talked with her about it?”

“No.”

“Have you tried?”

Loid sighs. “What do you think I am? A lousy husband? Of course I have. She just hasn't budged yet.”

“Ah I see,” Franky says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Well, hopefully it happens sooner than later. It'll just hurt more the longer she holds onto it.”

“Don't I know it,” Loid mutters. He looks up from his shoes to see a dark-haired woman standing off by a tree. Recognizing her posture, he immediately gets the message.

“Thanks for coming to support us, Franky I appreciate it.”

“You're welcome. You all are good people. Let me know if you need anything.”

Loid points to the woman. “It looks like even my hair stylist from the salon came. Better go talk to her.”

“Y'all have the wildest connections,” Franky says shaking his head. “Take care.”

“You too.”

Loid makes his way over to the woman who is closing her yellow polka dot umbrella. The rain was finally letting up, allowing some sun to peak through before it got too dark.

“Wow, going for a vibrant look today Mrs. Gessler?”

“Such light-hearted talk for a funeral, Dr. Forger,” Sylvia Sherwood responds, her dark blue eyes squinting at him.

“And light-hearted clothing.”

She scoffs, but keeps a straight expression.

“My condolences to your brother-in-law,” she says, adjusting a buckle on her lavender overcoat.

Loid nods and he turns back to where his fake wife is, hugging Chloe, one of Yuri's college friends.

“Thank you. Though it’s Yor who needs it more. I’m worried about her.”

He feels Sylvia’s gaze analyze the back of his head like a vulture picking apart its quarry. She clears her throat. “Yes, that’s understandable. Her brother may be gone now, but hopefully she’s still able to be comfortable at home.”

Her hidden message between her words is loud and clear. Lose Yor to her grief, lose Operation Strix. As if he wasn't already aware of it. Everyone and their mother was hounding him on the matter.

“Of course, I’ll see to it that she’s taken care of.”

“You’re a good man,” she says and there’s a twinkle in her eye when she adds, “Send my love to your girls too.”

Loid feels an unmistakable burn on his ears. “Thanks ma’am. I’ll be seeing you at the salon soon.”

“Please do, your side burns could use for a touch up in a few days.”

“Thanks for the observation,” he dead-pans. Leave it to Handler to point out a detail about fashion.

His handler gives him a pink lipped smile and raises her hand in farewell. “Anytime Doctor! See you then!”

“Have a good rest of your day, Mrs. Gessler.”

Then the Full Metal Lady in all her faux gait as a social hairdresser melts away from the scene, no doubt to check on any other ongoing operations. WISE was busier than ever these days.

From where he stands, his attention drifts back to where Anya is no doubt giving Dominic and Camilla, friends of the Briars, a hard time and then to Yor who is stiff as a board hovering over the grave of her brother.

I’m worried about her.

Loid never hated Yuri.

Correction. Twilight never hated Yuri.

What Twilight had worried about was the potential discovery of his own identity. While Yuri’s obsession with his sister was questionable at times, he had genuinely loved his sister and did want her to be happy. His behavior had calmed down the longer he observed how the married and family life brought out his sister’s smile more frequently than ever before. Twilight, along with his alias can agree that keeping a smile on one person’s face is a positive mark in the book of world peace.

Yet it still irks Loid at how the young man had been treated in order to make that desire of his happen. The SSS aren’t just exploiting Westalis spies and those who oppose the government, but people like Yuri Briar who are expendable state hounds. In a way, him and Yuri hadn’t been all that different, Loid muses. However, he knows the cost. From the short time he knew him, Loid isn’t sure Yuri was aware of how deep the cost cuts into those you leave behind. It was a question that would never gain a satisfactory answer.

Yor would also never know that her brother had been a member of the secret police. Loid didn’t know how to feel about it. Guilt clots in his stomach, but how can he tell her? Doing so risks his position of revealing himself as one of WISE’s top operatives. Much as he loathes it, staying conflicted is the only option he has going for him.

“Mr. Forger! Loid!”

Tearing his attention away from his wife, he sees a few of Yuri’s and to an extension Yor’s coworkers who want to have a conversation with him.

Loid handles bits of small talk and accepts more shockingly sincere words on behalf of the Briar siblings. The two of them have left quite the impression on those they interact with. His false smile quirks upward a bit more true at the thought.

Some folks go over to Yor, pulling her into a half hug and conversing with her for several minutes before separating to chat with another person. Yor continues to stand motionless by herself. Loid sees the open umbrella is a forgotten relic in her grasp.

Soon though, everyone disperses onto the remaining business of the day while light hangs onto its last threads. Life must endure for better or worse it seems.

Loid shakes the priest’s hand, thanking him again for his words and support of the family. Then he goes over to Yor. They can pick up Anya on the way before they head back to the entrance gate of the cemetery.

Yor remains at the gravestone as he approaches. Her umbrella still has raindrops on it that sparkle in the sunlight breaking through. Fingers tighten around its handle when Loid stands beside her.

He rests a hand on her shoulder. “Yor, it’s not raining anymore.”

His eyes are met with tear stained red ones.

“I know. But my heart still is.”

Light flickers on as Loid flips the switch, and the Forger family piles into their apartment. The pink haired girl flops onto the sofa almost immediately. Anya must be exhausted from all the mournful and conflicted thoughts and emotion from today’s service, poor thing. Loid feels awful that she’s had to experience such a mournful occasion.

The rest of the evening moves along in a dull manner, almost like they had left the television on mute. Both he and Yor fix a simple dinner of salad and sandwiches, leftovers from the viewing luncheon. The woman pushes away the wine bottle for once. Guess she wanted to sit with the elephant in the room on her chest. Loid doesn't like how much his own chest aches from the thought, and so he helped himself to a glass of it. Anya nibbles a bit from her plate, then announces she's going to study in her room. Yor also excuses herself to her room after cleaning up the dishes.

About an hour later, Loid checks on Anya and the little girl is already passed out on her bed. He chuckles and tucks her in. After the day the family had endured, it was high time the rest of them went to bed as well.

Loid lays wide awake.

This is a normal occurrence for him. An estimated two hour slumber is what he usually gets. Unhealthy for the average man, but being both ex-military and a spy makes one fall into the less than average category. So, when he is tasked to focus solely on Operation Strix, the invitation for a full eight hours is handed to him. Yet his body finds this so foreign and he only gets around four hours in the end.

Forcing images of sheep from the cruise they went on last holiday to jump fences, he closes his eyes. Always with the sheep. Maybe he should try something different. Penguins perhaps?

The sheep's hooves are growing flippers when something pricks his ears in the dead silence. He scrunches his eyes, pinpointing the sound that emanates into his room.

Crying.

Lack of noise is normal for this hour at night, yet no matter how thick or thin the apartment walls are, Loid hears gasping breaths and the sniveling of Yor. He knows it’s hers and not Anya’s, because Anya’s cries are short and messier in sound. Yor’s are drawn out, still messy, but more mature if that’s the way to describe it. Who knew learning the tempo of others crying would be critical to this mission’s success.

Loid reflects upon his conversation with Franky at the cemetery. While he had tried to talk to her about her brother’s death, Yor truly hasn't been ready to talk about it. All the preparations for his funeral had taken her entire focus. Sometimes from what he’s learned from others, those things can push away the emotions that need to be released. He himself is horrible at this. He had no room for tears in his line of work. Figuring that she would stop soon, Loid lays there listening to Yor sob voraciously. It's a morose symphony and the story it was telling is one he could never completely understand.

Yet the sound of his wife pierces his soul.

Misery is what he hears. Pure unrestrained misery. The kind where you have nothing left to do but let it engulf you, swallow you as you succumb to the basest instinct to cry.

This is something he knows all too well. And it’s this that he finds his feet padding through his room, across the hallway and into Yor’s room.

Her eyes immediately shoot up to meet his own. Embarrassment colors her face.

“Oh Loid!” Her head swivels back and forth. “Am I being too loud? I'm so sorry!”

Well, now you are, he thinks, but he smiles and says, “No, I just wanted to check in on you. You've been through a lot.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs, her cheeks wet from the tears.

Loid notices a handkerchief on the edge of her dresser and is by her side in an instant with it. He sits on the edge of her bed, handing it to her. Her hands gobble the fabric up in a flash.

He rests his hands on the blanket there. “I'm so sorry you’ve had to go through this a second time.”

Yor looks at him confused, for a moment.

Loid clears his throat. This was definitely not his forte. “Er…your parents?”

Yor shakes her head. “I never had time to mourn the loss of my parents. Caring for Yuri,” her voice hitches, “was what prevented that.”

“Now that he’s joined them I guess this is the time.”

Yor's only response are quiet glossy tears racing down her face. Loid could feel the clench in his heart tighten at the sight of her. If there had been any way to bring Yuri back, Loid would do it, no matter how much he’d need to be more careful protecting his secrets from the young man. He would do that in a heartbeat for Yor. No explanation needed.

“There’s a gaping hole right here,” Yor finally says, clutching her chest.

“And it feels like it won’t ever be filled again,” Loid finishes.

She looks up from her handkerchief, momentary surprise etched on her brow. Then she processes his words and nods.

“Exactly that.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Yor speaks again.

“You’ve felt this way before haven’t you? You lost your wife. I bet that was difficult.”

Oh. He keeps forgetting that specific lie. In actuality it was his childhood friends and his mother he was thinking of. People he tries to never bring up. Somehow Yor knows the right pulley to yank and lug his memories to the surface.

“Uh yes, but I’ve experienced similar things with other people in my life. Especially during the war.”

Yor says nothing. Rather, Loid can tell she’s listening intently, her bated breath beckoning him to continue.

So he does.

“Lost my family and friends. Many comrades too when I served the army before going to school to be a psychiatrist.”

It’s a half truth, but Loid can’t help but feel as though he’s shared a rare thing.

“I’m so sorry, Loid.”

“Please don’t worry, this is your time to grieve not mine.”

“The war…it really took something away from everyone. It’s left us all so lonely. I’m so lonely now. All alone,” she says, her voice soft. A glass in slow motion towards a splintering fate.

Now it is Loid’s turn to be silenced.

To be utterly alone. It’s become his norm since childhood. Yet he considers the events over the past year. He wasn’t really alone now was he? Despite him needing to go find a wife and child, both of them had been the ones to find him instead. They chose him where no one in over twenty years had done for a lost little boy. He wants her to know that he’s made a choice now too.

“But you aren’t alone, Yor. Anya and I, we’re happy to have you stay. We care about you, your health and well-being.” He smiles. “All of it.”

“Loid I— I’m so glad I still have you…and Anya. You both bring me joy, I can say that with confidence. I’m sorry for forgetting that.”

“No need to apologize, you didn’t forget it. If anything, you don’t need to remember it because you already live it. I can speak for Anya when I say you bring us joy. And we can still give you that unending joy back too. It’s what your brother would have wanted.”

“Oh Yuri!”

A wave of emotion, Yor throws herself at him. Of course, Yor not knowing how to gauge her own strength knocks both of them down against the mattress. She’s half on top of him, half pressed against his side. And being the good man he is, he instinctively holds her there. In his arms she sobs, her tears soaking his t-shirt.

He internally sighs, but it’s one out of empathy not annoyance. A broken heart still needs to finish grieving after all.

At each spasm of Yor’s body from the heaving of her lungs, Loid’s thoughts draw farther away from the mission and Handler’s words. Yes he needs to focus, but when he looks down at the snotty nosed woman clinging to him as a lifeline, he doesn’t care.

To hell with trying to hold this operation together. Loid Forger, Twilight, whoever he is, just wants to hold his wife. He wants to catch the broken pieces of her that shatter like glass at each shudder of her breath. And she lets him, gripping his arms as he does so, gathering the shards up and holding her together as they lay there across the bed.

Normally, the both of them would be a flurry of blushes and awkward glances to be in such a situation. Here in the quiet of night, is a complete and different case. Two individuals relax knowing comfort despite the cruelty of the world outside. Loid’s heart is more full for the first time he can recall, and judging from how Yor's staccato of cries ease into drawn out sniffles, she’s approaching that same feeling. A smile, raw and vulnerable for a spy of Loid’s quality graces his lips.

Good. This is exactly what Yor needs.

Yor’s hands weave around his neck and there’s a whispered “thank you” against his ear. It tickles his senses and he unconsciously shifts his legs. Gentle firm fingers squeeze against his scalp and he glances down at wide carmine eyes. Yor’s whole composure begs without words ever leaving her mouth.

Please don’t leave.

“Don’t worry Yor,” he breathes into her collarbone. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For once, he means every single world.