Chapter Text
Loid shifts his briefcase to retrieve the keys from his pocket.
Twilight had been assigned a mission that, despite being fairly simple to complete, kept him out much later than he would’ve liked. Surrounding Hans Muller, a recognized philanthropist who WISE suspected of embezzling money from his own charities to finance pro-war extremist groups, the mission required Twilight to retrieve a ledger documenting discrepancies in cash flow that would serve as incriminating evidence against Muller. In order to do this, Twilight infiltrated a high profile charity gala hosted by Muller at his own private estate. Twilight or, rather, Felix Becker—the pseudonym that the elite spy had selected for the occasion—had excused himself during the early part of the evening to use the restroom. Instead of visiting the restroom, however, the spy slipped into Muller’s office, cracked the safe hidden under his desk with ease, and left with the ledger carefully concealed beneath his jacket.
Despite having the ledger within his possession, Twilight needed to avoid attracting attention by remaining till the end of the event which, unfortunately for him, consisted of a six course meal and a long series of speeches. The length of the event combined with the fact the estate was located nearly two hours outside of Berlint meant that Loid Forger wasn’t able to return home until after midnight.
While the spy didn’t necessarily expect Yor to still be awake at this time, he also wouldn’t be surprised if she was. As of late, the pair had made a habit of spending time together after Anya had been put to bed, drinking tea and catching each other up on their respective days. And this habit, Loid had come to realize after the multiple occasions he returned from a mission (or mountain of paperwork) to find Yor settled on the couch, extended to even the nights he came home late. Sometimes she’d be watching television or sometimes she’d be reading a book but always the kettle would be warm, the mugs set out, and the tea selection carefully curated. Typically, Yor favored chamomile at night but, if she noticed that Loid had looked particularly worn out that day or suspected he might be suffering from stomach pains, she’d select a more specialized brew with curative properties. This consideration was not something Twilight had noticed immediately—it actually took an embarrassingly long time for the seasoned spy to notice—but once he had, he was struck by its thoughtfulness.
Even if not for the thoughtfulness (and surprising effectiveness) behind Yor’s herbal remedies, Loid appreciated their newly formed routine. Although it required him to practice more care when coming home late at night to ensure there was no visible evidence of his missions lingering, such as latex glue behind the ear or blood splatter on the lapel, Loid liked being able to have conversations with Yor. Often consisting of trivial stories about their days, the conversations were a good way for Twilight to stay abreast of the day-to-day ongoings of his family. Knowing that Anya was now able to clear all the monkey bars or that Yor had purchased a beginner cookbook was information crucial to the success of Operation Strix and, if Loid found Yor to be a compelling storyteller—her enthusiasm and animation making up for the details she had forgotten or for the bouncing order of her stories—well, that only made his job as a spy easier.
And after a long evening of making meaningless small talk as Felix Becker, Twilight was looking forward to hearing about his fake-wife’s day. So, when he finally did open the door to the apartment, the spy was a bit disappointed to see she wasn’t there.
Not only was she not there, but there was no indication that she had been home at all. Her coat was missing from the rack by the door and, while it was possible that she had chosen to pack it away for the season, that seemed unlikely given that it was only the start of Spring and the temperatures were still low around the time they left for work in the morning. It also didn't explain why her shoes and purse were also missing.
Taking a few steps further into the apartment, there were other things that Loid noticed which spoke to the absence of Yor. Such as, the dishes from breakfast were still neatly stacked on the drying board instead of put away, as was her routine when she returned home. Arguing that it was compensation for not being the most -ahem- confident in the kitchen, Yor had taken it upon herself to handle all the dishes despite Loid’s protestations that it was unnecessary since she already did so much for the family outside of the kitchen. On the rare occasion that he did actually have the chance to scrub the dishes, she’d swoop in, drying and spiriting them away to their proper place, flitting about the small space with an efficiency that’d impress even the most seasoned spy.
The curtains were drawn, another sign that Yor had not been home. Loid preferred to keep the curtains drawn, a precaution learned from years of spy craft, but Yor preferred to keep them open, an indulgence based on the way the sunlight floated through the room and warmed her spot on the worn leather couch. It was never something they discussed, just an instinctive compromise they settled upon in which Loid would close the curtains before bed and before they left for the day, and Yor would open them after they woke and after they returned.
The most obvious sign however, and only because it was patiently sat in front of him with its leash in its mouth, was that Bond had not yet been out. Yor wouldn’t have forgotten to walk Bond, enjoying the exercise almost as much as the dog. Although, if Loid had to guess by the way Yor sometimes returned with flushed cheeks and windswept hair, and dragging a Bond who was panting within an inch of his life, some of their “walks” were a bit more rigorous than that.
Putting thoughts of Yor momentarily aside, Loid stoops to ruffle the dog’s wooly head.
“Good boy, Bond. Sorry you had to wait so long,” he apologizes, retrieving the leash and clipping it onto the Bondman inspired collar.
Loid thinks to himself that he’ll have to remember to slip an extra treat into Bond’s bowl once they return from their walk.
—
Once outside, Loid takes another moment to consider Yor’s absence. Taking a look down either end of the street, he half hopes to see her familiar form silhouetted by the streetlamps but to no avail.
There was nothing inherently worrisome about Yor not being home this late, just odd. It wasn’t unusual for Yor to have the occasional late night, sometimes staying to finish some task at work or going out with the girls afterwards, but she was very good about communicating it beforehand. Even if something popped up last minute, she’d make a point to leave a message at the hospital—and even if he couldn’t be reached at the hospital, the message would still make it to him via Nightfall.
Was it because Anya was at Becky’s for a sleepover? Objectively, the only reason for Yor to update Loid on her schedule was to coordinate childcare. As co-parents, they were responsible for ensuring that at least one of them was watching Anya at all times (who knows what the young girl could get up to unsupervised). Or, if that was not possible, ensuring that Franky was contacted for babysitting duty. Perhaps, without Anya being home, Yor just didn’t think to extend the courtesy?
Taking one last look down the street, Loid lets Bond lead him back into their building. Wherever Yor is, he reasons, she should be home soon. And in the meantime, all he can do is turn on the kettle and wait.
—
It was 2:57 am. The grandfather clock against the wall, the one that came installed in their pre-furnished apartment and that Loid had never considered beyond the way it served as a tasteful symbol of the Forger’s middle-class status, now demanded his full and resolute attention. It was 2:57 am and Yor was still not home.
From reviewing work documents to occupy his mind to preparing for bed with the hope that, as soon as he committed to retiring for the night, she’d walk through the door, the last few hours since returning home had seen Loid through various stages of restlessness. He’d exercised, straightened, and paced but the lowest moment was perhaps when he stood outside her bedroom, ear pressed against the hard wood door, listening for any indication that he misinterpreted all the signs and that Yor was, indeed, safely entrenched in her room this whole time, fast asleep and oblivious to the misplaced machinations of her husband.
Now though, Loid was resigned to staring at the clock. His mind shuffled through all the explanations for her absence, of which he had narrowed down to the two most possible. The first of these explanations was that she was held up at work.
It was not uncommon for Yor to work overtime, she frequently received calls requesting her to come in early or on the weekends. Just this morning she had received one such call. It was early and the family had only just sat down for breakfast, Loid had finished laying down the plates of omelets and was taking his own seat when the phone rang. He recalled moving to answer the phone but Yor shot up and was grappling with the receiver by the time he was fully standing. Resting back down, he watched as she took the call, so lost in the myriad of expressions that flashed across her face that he forgot to pay attention to the actual content of the call. Not needing to wait long for an answer, Yor stammered about there being a work emergency that required her to go in right away. In a flurry of movement, she rushed about the apartment to get ready for the day. It was only as she pulled on her coat that Loid was able to catch her long enough to hand off her lunch bag—something he’d prepared earlier plus a few extra snacks to account for the meal she was missing. She yelled a series of scrambled pleasantries, “Thank you, Loid! Sorry Loid! Have a great day at school! Say hi to Becky! See you later!”, and then she was off.
Loid remembers looking at Anya who just shrugged in response. She still wasn’t fully awake but, to be fair, Loid didn’t disagree. As hurried as it all was, the situation really wasn’t all that strange for the energetic City Hall clerk.
Considering that there was a work emergency this morning that had required Yor to go in early, it was not unreasonable to assume that whatever the work emergency was that it was not yet resolved and necessitated her staying late as well. But even still, it was nearly three in the morning. Loid was perhaps not the best person to comment on what was or wasn’t a healthy work-life balance, but he knew there was no conceivable reason for a City Hall clerk to work nearly twenty hours in a single day.
The second explanation was that Yor went out with the girls after work. Her relationship with her coworkers had been improving steadily since he first encountered it at Camilla’s party, and, recently, Yor has been invited to participate in the occasional girl’s night. With Anya spending the night at Becky’s and Loid projected to get home late, it would be the ideal time for Yor to join in.
But once again, even if this was a girl’s night, 3:00 am seemed a bit excessive. On the few occasions that Yor had gone out with her coworkers, she always returned (or was returned) at a respectable time. Reviewing what he knew of these girl’s nights, they usually consisted of a meal and a few drinks. They started right at the end of their shift to ensure that, even if they stayed out a little longer than usual, Sharon would still be home with enough time to tuck her children into bed and Camilla would still be able to catch the latest episode of Berlint in Love with Dominic. The only one without any set engagements on a Friday night was Millie and, while she was the only one who might possess the energy to keep the night going, he couldn’t imagine Yor accompanying her. Even if not for the fact that a night club seemed a little outside of Yor’s comfort zone, he knew how drinking affected her and she’d be much too tired to stay out this late.
So even though Yor working overtime and Yor going out with her coworkers were the most probable explanations for her being out late, neither necessitated her being out this late. It was the timing that didn’t make sense and it was the timing that had a pit forming in Loid’s stomach because the discrepancy meant that, regardless of what she had been doing, something might’ve happened to Yor before she could make it home.
Loid knows from personal experience that Yor is a strong and capable fighter but there are some things that you simply can’t protect yourself from, and that is only exacerbated when you’re drunk. Despite the power that she displayed as Yorticia the Witch, it was very possible that, with her senses impaired, she might have gotten herself into trouble. His only comfort is that, despite his less than stellar opinion of them, he feels confident that her coworkers wouldn’t leave Yor in a vulnerable state. Any other time Yor had had too much to drink on one of their outings, they had brought her home, almost seemed happy to do so with how they relished in teasing their innocent friend about her “handsome doctor” husband.
But just in case, should I look for her? If she had been at work prior to becoming unaccounted for, Twilight could retrace her usual routes from City Hall to home or, if she had been out with the girls, expand that web to cover any of the restaurants or bars that they might have visited. He wouldn’t know which restaurant they might’ve gone to for certain since, rather than frequenting any one establishment they made a point of trying different ones. This was partially due to a collective resolve to sample more of the diverse cuisine that Berlint has to offer and partially due to Yor’s drunken antics having the effect of making some establishments a little more wary and a little less welcoming of their particular group (he’d feel bad for her coworkers if not for how much they delighted in riling her up).
Loid absentmindedly rubs his chin to soothe the phantom pain while mentally creating a list of the establishments most likely to have hosted the yet unconfirmed girls’ night. With this list, he could then track the routes from the most likely establishments to the apartment to see if she could be located.
But if I leave, Loid thinks, what happens if Yor returns when I’m gone? I should just trust that Yor is okay and stay here.
Resolving to do just that, Loid settles further into the couch only to find that his physical inactivity has amplified his mental overactivity. Having exhausted every avenue of the likely explanations as to Yor’s disappearance, Loid’s mind touches upon some of the less likely ones.
She could be visiting her brother. It’s a good explanation only so far as it ensures Yor is somewhere safe. Otherwise, it is completely improbable. Not only would Yor not have stayed the night at her brother’s house without giving him advanced notice, but Yuri was currently away on a business trip and not scheduled to return until Sunday morning. There’s a chance that Yuri returned early and, having done so, sought out his sister’s company but the odds of this are incredibly low because, although Yor and everyone else might think Yuri’s attending a summit in Witland, Twilight knows he’s conducting a raid on an underground publishing company specializing in anti-Ostania propaganda just a few train stops away in Dresden. For Yuri to come back early would be suspicious enough that he wouldn’t risk it.
Another explanation is that Yor could be visiting another man. If Yor has a lover then Twilight has to concede that, between Anya being out of the house and Loid not being home until late, tonight would have been the perfect opportunity for a clandestine meeting. Really the spy had no reason to rule out the possibility other than it had never occurred to him.
Within their agreement, it was never stated that either was unallowed to take a lover even though, were they ever to be found out, it would pose a threat to Operation Strix. Loid was now realizing that this omission was an oversight on Twilight’s part, likely because the spy had had no desire to take one for himself. But just because Loid had no desire to take a lover, did not mean that Yor was the same.
While nothing in Yor’s file indicated that she had been in any relationships prior to their faux one, she was a twenty-seven year old woman and a twenty-seven year old woman had needs which, seeing as they were not being met by her husband, might have required her to look outside her marriage in order to be fulfilled.
Confident that he could’ve fulfilled those needs if only he had known, Loid is hurt that she chose to seek pleasure anywhere other than his own arms. A physical relationship may have complicated Operation Strix, but it was a risk he’d be willing to take for that sake of Yor’s happiness. Thinking back, Twilight had even attempted to take that risk before when he had thought that Yor was harboring romantic feelings for him (his hand comes up to rub his chin again), only to be rejected in a way that signaled that Yor, far from being in love with him, had barely even liked him.
But maybe it was less that she did not like him and more that she liked someone else? Maybe Yor had taken a lover in every sense of the word, someone that she had true romantic feelings for?
Thinking back to this morning, Loid reflects on the excited flush of Yor’s face as she wished him a good day and fled out the door. At the time he considered it an—admittedly pleasant—aftereffect of the exertion but, could it have been the excitement of going not to work but to meet a lover? Images flash unbidden into his mind of Yor with that same flush upon her skin but this time, rather than be contained to the soft apple of her cheeks, the bloom is revealed by a figmental state of undress to be efflorescent across her chest, rising and falling in correspondence with her soft, mewling pants. Her skin, and perhaps entire being aglow, under the embrace of a man with no discernable features.
Needing to distract himself from that particular train of thought, less his nails break skin with how firmly his hands are clasped, Loid looks back from where he sits hunched over, elbows digging into knees at the grandfather clock only to see that not even 5 minutes had eclipsed since he’d last checked.
Slumping back into the couch, Loid surrendered himself to a very long night.