Work Text:
‘...It is with great relief that I communicate that Operation Strix…’
Operation Strix was over…
‘...has achieved all major objectives set forth by WISE….’
Sylvia’s hands tapped away at the keys of the typewriter that sat upon her desk. Agent Twilight had done it once again, and had successfully completed Strix’s primary objective: He’d discovered Donovan Desmond’s plans for restarting the Ostania-Westalis conflict, and put a stop to them. And not only that, the National Unity Party was guaranteed to be discredited, disgraced, and defanged. If the party survived somehow, and didn’t just fall apart, they wouldn’t be a serious political opponent in Ostania for at least a generation. Two, if WISE played their cards right.
‘...The Ostanian nationalist movements, in particular the National Unity Party, should be in disarray for an extended period of time, following Donovan Desmond’s exit from political life…’
Another top notch job by Twilight.
As Sylvia continued to write her report, her mind began to drift from the more exciting points. Not helped by the fact that summarizing the budget for the operation and how Twilight had exceeded it multiple times over didn’t make for the most exciting writing job.
‘Despite being allocated the following amounts of Dalc per month, Agent Twilight has managed to exceed this budget on roughly thirty seven occasions, including one notable incident at Newstone Castle…’
To anyone else in WISE, Operation Strix was just that. Another class act in spycraft by their best agent. Nightfall certainly thought so, but well…Sylvia knew better than to take her fully at her word. She’d need to have a long chat with the white haired agent at some point on her…interest in Yor Briar. Or well, have an unlucky intern ask her about it.
And yet, something was bothering Sylvia, nagging at the back of her mind. It didn’t take her long to figure out what it was.
Twilight was different. Strix had a noticeably outsized effect on the man. He was getting, as the more experienced agents might call it, sloppy. Numerous times he’d almost been caught in easily avoidable situations, or had put his cover at unnecessary risk for the sake of his ‘family’. He was showing all the hallmarks of being in too deep. Too connected with his ‘family’, too attached to the outcome of their little home. Sylvia had seen it before, too many times.
‘Do not let my criticism of Agent Twilight’s actions take away from his accomplishments. Once more, he has persevered to preserve peace in our time…’
Even men as great as Twilight could be brought low by their families, real and fake. All too often would a WISE agent get burned for letting one too many things slip to a fake wife or husband, or be unable to break things off. Family was an impossible luxury in the world Sylvia and Twilight lived in. One that gave just as much as it took. One that they both once had, in a time that more and more felt like a far off fantasy than it had been a real place.
(She can remember plenty of her own family. Of small hands and nights spent on moonlit dinners. Of homes turned to naught but splinters and cinder and smoldering ruin. Of shadows that whisper to her on her worst nights and taunt her with their memory.)
Family…that was something Twilight - or rather, Loid Forger - had now, didn’t he? Sylvia had seen the three of them interact enough to know that, in whole or in part, Twilight’s actions were warm enough to imply a genuine nature to them. Twilight didn’t have a family, no WISE agent did. They gave up on ever having a family the moment they’d signed up for this line of work.
(She’d read his file when she first started to train him. A father that disappeared in the days before the start of The War. A mother that died in a bombing raid some weeks after. A decade later that orphan became a soldier under an assumed name, a broken young boy fueled by rage and hate, disillusionment and loss. And she molded him into the spy he was today.)
Loid Forger had a hell of a family too, that much Sylvia could admit.
As far as she knew from her communication with ‘Loid’, little Anya Forger was the first addition to the trio that made up the Forger family. Whatever Anya put her mind to - or could be motivated to put her mind to - she’d do. A lot like the man Sylvia trained, in that regard. And just like Twilight, Anya played every card in her hand to get her way, underhanded or not.
(Sylvia remembered the little stunt Anya pulled to keep Bond as the family dog. Swearing she’d quit Eden Academy if she didn’t get her way…Sylvia would approve of the manipulation if it didn’t make her blood pressure spike so much.)
‘...In addition, Agent Twilight’s infiltration of Eden Academy and its prestigious Imperial Scholar Society has allowed him to gather a wealth of information and contacts previously unavailable to WISE…’
And then there was Yor Briar-Forger…WISE’s file didn’t tell the full story on her, not by a long shot. War orphan, raised her brother by taking all sorts of odd jobs to pay for his schooling and a small home in the rural areas of Neilsburg. As far as WISE knew, she had no formal education to speak of…after her brother’s graduation from high school and acceptance into Ostania’s Diplomatic Corps (or more accurately, into Ostania’s State Secret Service), she moved to Berlint and became a clerk at city hall.
‘...Agent Twilight’s contact with SSS officer Yuri Briar has further allowed for a deeper look into their tactics and disposition. This is despite Agent Twilight’s complaints about having to interact with the man…’
Yet Yor Forger had more to her than just that. Twilight might brush aside the woman’s incredible physical feats as having been from some prior training, but Sylvia knew a little better. God help anyone that gets on Yor’s bad side. Sylvia saw the wreckage of the car they pulled that explosive-happy college student out of…she shuddered slightly at the sight of metal twisted around where Yor Forger had kicked a moving car. And won. Sylvia didn’t know why, but there was something about the matriarch of the Forger family that didn’t sit right with her for that reason.
But physical might wasn’t the only thing - even if Yor was one of the few people who could knock Twilight out, either literally or metaphorically. To Twilight, Yor had become so much more. To an extent, Sylvia suspected that Twilight had found in Yor a kindred spirit, someone who’s lived experiences related so much to his own.
It would make sense. Sylvia had long since stopped typing, reclining back into her chair as she entertained the train of thought. Both were war orphans, could hold their composure under extreme duress, possessed good physical fighting ability, and were relatively the same age, Yor was twenty-seven at the start of Operation Strix after all…
(Neither Sylvia nor Twilight possessed any age anymore. Ages meant identities, identities meant you weren’t who you were supposed to be. Whoever either of them once were died choking on the ashes of a war neither of them started. What they became after were tools, weapons meant to keep a war like that from ever happening again.)
It was then that a thought occurred to Sylvia. One that made her sigh deeply, take off her glasses, and pinch the bridge of her nose. For once she was thankful for being the only one in WISE’s concealed office at this time of night.
What was she going to do with Twilight now?
Operation Strix was over. Undoubtedly Twilight was preparing for Loid’s ‘disappearance’ so he may go somewhere else, and save the world there. Attached to the hip of his family or not, Twilight knew his duty to his principles still.
And yet…where would WISE send him next?
(She sees a little of herself in him. He has what she once did, even if hers was only for the briefest of moments before it was all torn away. Can she really take that away from him? Even if it would be, in some sick sense, for his own good?)
Sylvia, at last, leaned forward in her chair, and brought her hands to the typewriter.
‘...As for the subject of Agent Twilight’s next assignment, I, his handler, recommend the following assignment…’
~-~-~-~-~-~
Twilight tipped his hat as he closed the door of his apartment. A show for the neighbors, nothing more. A few slightly-fond waves and returned nods communicated their lack of interest in him. Good.
Eschewing his typical green suit and red tie - in part because of the cold weather, in part because of the 'urgent business' Loid told his family he was going to attend to - for a closed up trench coat concealing a blue suit instead. The green felt far too familiar now, too much Loid bound up in that set of fabric for Twilight to be comfortable wearing it in a WISE safehouse.
The walk he was going on was almost routine. Almost. The moment he stepped out of the door of the apartment complex, he raised a hand to stop a gust of wind from thieving his hat from right atop his head. He took it in stride, beginning to make his way towards the WISE safehouse.
Of course, it being Ostania, he made sure to change his direction every now and again. While he had no idea if Loid Forger was being surveyed by the SSS or not, Twilight wasn’t going to take that chance. Dipping into a side street here, or a cafe there, even walking in the opposite direction of his goal for half an hour. All to throw off any would be pursuers of his true intentions.
(No one following on foot. No surveillance from the rooftops or via vehicle. Good.)
It was after he’d stopped and changed direction again that he dipped into an alleyway, finding a photobooth where it typically was. WISE wasn’t foolish enough to have only one base in the capital of their country’s rival, so a number of smaller safehouses and bases were up and running throughout Berlint. Today was another rotation into Safehouse C for his meeting.
And more importantly, his debriefing for Operation Strix.
Sliding inside, Twilight sat on the bench of the booth, and hit the ‘Start’ button. Almost instantly, gravity dropped away as his stomach lurched upwards. He always hated how fast this elevator to the underground WISE base traveled. Fast enough to be worrying, but slow enough to leave you questioning if you're actually falling.
Finally, mercifully, the elevator slowed to a stop, letting out a ding as the doors began to open.
As usual, the WISE safehouse underneath Berlint was in a quiet state of frenzied activity. Analysts scurried from desk to desk as they poured over reports and new information being gathered, with Twilight having to dodge one so deeply engrossed in his reading that the two had nearly collided.
Even with Desmond's unceremonious exit from Ostanian politics in the wake of his warmongering scandal - in turn due to no small part of Twilight’s own interference - WISE was left just as busy as ever. A considerable power vacuum had been left in Desmond’s wake, not just in the National Unity Party but the Ostanian right wing as a whole. A vacuum that numerous factions and individuals were jockeying to fill. And that wasn’t even beginning to get into the wider implications this was having in Ostanian society as well, a topic that made Twilight’s head throb trying to keep track of it all.
But, peace had been secured for the time being. The darkness pushed back once more. Yet the work continued regardless. Twilight took a deep breath, shuffling past a pair of chatting coworkers as he slipped into the more private office of his Handler.
Sylvia Sherwood sat at her desk, calmly flipping through that morning's newspaper. “Twilight.” She says, without even looking at him. He notes the thickness of the paper in her right hand. If he remembered his reading of the paper before he left, she was just finishing with the section on a scandal involving Ostania’s sports teams on the international stage. A top athlete for the upcoming triathlon was accused of doping by Westalis and other western counties.
“Ma’am.” He says, standing in front of her desk at attention. He takes off his hat, settling it under his arm.
Sylvia lays the newspaper down on the table, sitting up more straight in turn. Her eyes lock onto his. “Good work on Strix. You’ve done well.” As she finished speaking, there’s a slight pull at her lips. The ghost of a smile.
(He remembers the years of training under her. How she’d punish even the slightest infraction or mistake in his tradecraft. He knew why. In their line of work, few lived to see Sylvia’s age. She wanted the best from him, and he wanted to give it. There was never any malice in those punishments - though the sting of her belt against his wrist during sparring practice was something he’d rather not re-experience.)
“Thank you ma’am.” He says plainly. There is a terse silence for a few moments after. They both know where the conversation is headed…right? She should be bringing up his next assignment, but the longer she looks at him, the more he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight. Her ‘smile’ fades.
“WISE is more than happy as well. It’ll take some time to ascertain the political situation but…a pro-war footing has been made into political suicide for the time being. No small feat…”
“Thank you, Ma’am-”
“I’m not finished. The current rumors from the Ostanian parliament are hinting that the next president - whoever they’ll be - may be forced to entertain traveling to Westalis.”
“To appear stable, and to begin de-escalation talks.”
“Exactly, with Desmond and much of his cronies retiring or resigning, Ostania’s going to have some new blood in office. They’re going to want to appear that they have the situation under control.”
Twilight nodded along, trying to quell the growing impatience gnawing at his stomach.
“But, that’s a worry for another day. Your findings on Eden’s Imperial Scholar families has also proven very useful for WISE. Lots of gossip between those powerful families about upcoming events and plans. Industrial information, hints as to new developments in their aerospace programs…quite the treasure-trove you’ve gotten into. And do think we doubted Anya’s schooling ability.” The Handler chuckles lightheartedly at that last part, as if she were trying to defuse a bomb.
Twilight nods again. “Thank you. It was difficult, but her studies improved greatly these past six months.”
“Indeed. Speaking of, you did finish ahead of schedule on Strix. WISE’s top brass were expecting another year before you’d find anything actionable to take down Donovan with.”
And at that, Twilight raised a curious brow, before lowering it. “I can certainly see why. This operation has been…extensive, to say the least.”
“Mhm.” Sylvia hummed, picking up the newspaper once more. “That’s really all I have to say, Twilight. Not much to debrief you on, since you know everything.” She lowers the paper for a moment to shoot him a half-heartedly pointed glare. “Next time, please don’t overshoot the budget so much.”
His back stands a little straighter. “Y-Yes ma’am.”
She looks him up for a moment, before raising the newspaper above her line of sight again. “Good. Dismissed.”
~-~-~-~-~-~
Sylvia hadn’t even bothered to resume her reading, keeping the newspaper in front of her eyes. Yet she could still feel it, those blue eyes boring into the paper expectantly. Any harder and he’d probably start burning the cheap material the words were printed on.
With an overperformed sigh, Sylvia lowered the paper and found, what else, but Twilight continuing to look at her. WISE’s top agent wasn’t one to twiddle his thumbs, but to see him looking at her like this was mildly frustrating for the more experienced Handler.
“Did you hear me? You’re dismissed, Twilight.”
And yet, Twilight didn’t move. His brow was furrowing - as was hers at his continued presence - and his eyes were scanning over her face in a way that too easily told her that he was waiting for something. A small, growing pit of uncertainty nestled itself into Sylvia’s stomach.
(Had she misjudged something about him? Was something wrong with him?)
“I’m…not sure I understand, ma’am.”
“Excuse me?”
“I- Well, surely WISE has need of me somewhere else. Operation Strix is complete, Loid Forger’s purpose is complete. There must be another mission I’m needed for.”
(Oh. So this is how it’s going to be, Twilight.)
Sylvia tosses the paper back onto the desk and leans forward in her chair. “WISE has no other missions for you to be assigned to at this time.”
“A-Are you su-”
Sylvia’s glare shut him up quickly, the man’s jaw clenching shut.
“Orders from WISE are for you to stay put. Loid Forger is to remain in place here in Berlint and working at Berlint Hospital’s psychiatric ward.”
“I…I still don’t understand.”
Sylvia brought a hand to her temple. Oh, for how bright Twilight was, he could be incredibly stubborn when he wasn’t understanding what was right under his nose. Too busy trying to rationalize everything rather than finding an understanding. “How long has it been since Loid Forger moved into Berlint. Since the start of Operation Strix?”
“About…two and a half years, ma’am.”
“So tell me, Twilight.” Sylvia’s voice had a frustrated edge to it. “Why would WISE have you burn Loid Forger’s cover, if it’s taken this long to get him into position, if he can still gather so much information on the highest people in Ostanian society?” Her voice is rising in volume, and she’s thankful the door is closed. “What would it look like to all the parents of the Imperial Scholars, or god forbid, Desmond, if Loid Forger were to disappear tomorrow?”
(Internally, she’s almost to the point of begging him to take the hint.)
The man in front of her gulped. “It would look suspicious.”
“Suspicious?” Sylvia looked at him as if he grew a second head. “Rumors of assassination or kidnapping would be all over it! Do you know how much doubt you’d cast onto Loid Forger’s entire story if he were to so suddenly disappear? How much doubt would be cast onto Anya and Yor? I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the SSS is a little trigger happy right now at the possibility of there being a fucking leak in their ranks!”
She’s up and standing now, the rolling desk chair hitting against the back wall with the speed at which she’s stood up. Her hands are slamming down onto her desk, and she can only stare at the agent in front of her, who stares back at her with a look that’s somewhere between dumbfoundedness and fear.
Finally, mercifully, something seems to click.
“I…” Twilight says, his tone barely above a whisper. “I can go home?”
(The tone cracks something in Sylvia’s heart.)
Home…that wasn’t something either of them had known in decades. To Sylvia, she’d long since forsaken the possibility of a ‘normal’ life, knowing that she’d be working to the day she died for WISE.
(She knew once her wails of despair grew quiet as her voice gave out. Once the sight of small, blue hands buried under rubble no longer plagued her every waking moment. But Twilight…)
But Loid has that opportunity. Sure, the Forger’s may not be a traditional family by any stretch of the imagination. But a family they were, through and through.
(She can see it in his eyes. How much he cares for Yor and Anya. She knows the feeling. Better than he may suspect.)
Taking a deep breath, Sylvia looks down for a moment. The newspaper looks back up at her in its passionate scandalous text. When she looks back at Twilight, her expression has not softened. She steps out from behind the desk, and stalks towards the agent she trained all those years ago.
He only flinches when her index finger jabs into his chest. “Yes. And here’s what you’re going to do when you go home tonight, Mr. Forger.”
The look on his face is priceless. Simply incredulous at what’s happening. He must think he’s dreaming. He may as well be.
“You’re going to go back home. You’re going to spend time with your wife and your child.” She punctuates those words with further jabs to his chest. “And tomorrow you’re going to go to work at the hospital, and then go back home to them again. If there’s more work - and believe me, there will be more work to be done - we will be in contact as per usual. Am I clear?”
He stares at her for a long moment, before giving her a curt nod.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Good. Any questions?”
“No ma’am.”
“Good.” Sylvia steps back to the desk, taking a seat. “Dismissed.”
He begins walking away the moment she finishes uttering those words.
“And Twilight?”
He pauses, turning to look at her.
“Purchase your wife some flowers. And I’m sure Anya would appreciate a gift as well for her hard work.”
“Y-yes ma’am.”
And with that, Loid takes the elevator back up, and Sylvia lets the tension melt from her shoulders as she slouches over the desk. She takes her wide brimmed hat off, running a hand through her copper hair with an only partially exaggerated air of frustration.
“Ugh, spies…” The smile doesn’t leave her face for the rest of the day.
~-~-~-~-~-~
A week later, when Sylvia is looking over the expenditure reports for the WISE agents working throughout Berlint, she spots two peculiar purchases. On Twilight’s, or she supposes Loid’s account. Who else would it be?
Aside from the usual items, such as payroll for an informant of his, listening equipment, and other such matters of tradecraft, two items stood out.
One was a novelization of the Spy Wars series…all 3 volumes plus some short stories. The explanation given was as a reward for Anya for her part in Operation Strix, as what father wouldn’t reward their daughter for getting into the Imperial Scholars? Sylvia, much like Loid, may not have found much value in the cartoon series, but the child was infatuated with the on-screen adventures.
(If only she knew the kind of adventures her ‘father’ has been on, she’d be bouncing off the walls asking for details.)
The second was a bouquet of exceptionally expensive imported roses, a massive one at that. And in typical Loid fashion, his explanation was that they were a gift of the missus, something to brighten up the house and keep up the cover story.
A grin sneaks up Sylvia’s face again, and stays there.
(Lovesick fool. Though I guess we all were once.)
It’s only a few hours later she realizes why the roses were so expensive, and why he’d gone out of his way to get this exact variety.
Briar roses…
(Scratch that. Smartass lovesick fool.)
Sylvia pauses over the reports as she submits them. Does she regret what she’s doing, allowing her best agent to effectively retire in a sense?
(...)
Not in the slightest.
(She remembers plenty of her own family. Candle-lit dinners filled with laughter and lively talk. Nights and early mornings spent in bed with another’s warmth to take comfort in. Milestones of achievement and growth as notches on the doorframe stretch higher and higher to reflect height.)
(She remembers all of that and more. Sylvia may no longer have a family, she may no longer wish to have one. But Twili- Loid has a family now. One that will always need him, as much as he needs them. She cannot- will not, steal him away form the Forgers.)
Sylvia sighs, files away the expenditure reports, and considers how best to spend her evening.
After all, her work here is done.