Chapter Text
Loid frowned at the burning smell in the air, and sighed when he found the source. It had been a long time since he had last burned dinner.
He threw away the charred remains of the broccoli, and searched the fridge for a replacement vegetable. In that background, Loid listened to the steady stream of water running from the shower.
He had been tempted to ask Anya if she needed any help, but thankfully, Yor had it covered. His wife - a fucking assassin!! - was on standby outside the bathroom, ready with a pack of fresh bandages and a first aid kit to tend to the wounds on Anya’s arms.
When the hospital discharged her, the nurses gave Loid several packs of bandages and gauze, as well as antiseptic creams and some packs of painkillers for Anya to take when she needed to, but Yor insisted that she would take care of it. Loid entrusted the wound care to Yor, since he had no doubt that she had seen her fair share of injuries. She was an expert in her own right.
The newly-opened asparagus simmered with the butter and garlic, and Loid continued to cook as he thought back on his conversation with the Handler earlier that day.
Sylvia was rightly worried. Suddenly his secret wasn’t so secret anymore, and his entire family was in on it. Not only that, but he had been living under the same roof as a highly-skilled Garden assassin the entire fucking time and could have been taken out at any minute!
Loid had to work hard to make sure that Sylvia understood that Yor was not a threat to him in any way. (Unless he hurt Anya - but that was something he would never do.)
He had initially suggested meeting at the cafe that they normally frequented, but Sylvia insisted on having a more private meeting in the WISE headquarters. That was when he started to sweat, possibly out of fear for his life.
Or, more realistically, the fear that he was about to lose everything.
“We have to talk,” Sylvia lit a cigarette and narrowed her eyes at Twilight. “Let’s start with that spectacularly unplanned and unauthorised rescue mission for your daughter.”
Twilight rose to his feet. “I did what I had to!”
“I understand that,” said the Handler. “But what I don’t understand is - do you even know how you pulled it off?”
Twilight blinked, and took an uncertain step back from her desk. “Excuse me?”
“You got Anya back, flooded the lab, assisted in apprehending most of the staff, and got away with barely a scratch on either of you, nevermind the complications that were your wife and Damian Desmond. Yet, you had next to no intel, a badly packed mission pack, no insider, no back up, and no real plan. I thought I trained you better than that.”
“Well, I-” Twilight had readied himself to meet Handler’s challenging stare, when he blanked.
She was right. There was no way that it would have worked in any other circumstances. He met her eyes with a blank stare.
“I thought so,” she tilted back in her chair smugly. “We’ll save that conversation for next time. Before then, I imagine you have some questions about the debrief?”
Twilight nodded hesitantly. He had a lot of questions about how the Handler, well, handled everything once he took off to the hospital to see Anya.
“We did manage to sweep the place for evidence before the SSS got wind of the operation and took it out of our hands,” she blew a stray lock of hair out of her face in frustration. “So, you’ll be glad to know that the staff of that awful place have been apprehended. We have most of them in our holding cells, and we have interrogators mining for information as we speak.”
She looked at him coolly. “Anya might be interested to know that the other children in the facility will be looked after. Since they were found on Ostanian land, their cases are being handled by the Ostanian government in partnership with the SSS, since this is a special security case. They will be rehabilitated into normal society and placed into foster homes, but we will be keeping a close eye on them.”
Twilight nodded. “Will they be staying in Berlint?”
“I’m afraid that’s classified,” said Sylvia smoothly, and at Twilight’s utterly bemused stare she added: “You have a certified telepath for a housemate. Right now we are debriefing Anya’s case, which I think she has every right to hear, but given the potential data breach, I’m afraid I can no longer include you in classified briefings.”
Twilight felt as though he had just turned to stone.
If he couldn’t be partial to classified briefings, then how could he do his job as a spy?
His mouth opened and closed soundlessly, before he formed a semblance of a thought. “Anya has kept the fact that I’m a spy a secret for nearly twelve years. Surely we can have a bit of leeway on this?”
Twilight cringed at himself. He sounded so immature, so far removed from the analytical and professional spy he was so used to being.
“Weeellll …” Sylvia took a long, slow drag of her cigarette, and turned her lips upwards in a smirk. “There might be an agreement that we can come to.”
She flipped open a file that was already prepared on her desk, and she pushed it towards Twilight.
He picked it up.
“Operation Bellator?” Twilight read from the title of the document. “What is this? Have you-” He flicked faster through the pages. “Have you been spying on Anya??”
“Not me,” smirked the Handler. “I assigned that task to Agent Dusk.”
Anger burned in him. “ Handler .”
“All for a good cause, I promise,” she said and flicked the cigarette over the ashtray. “Did you watch the video on that camcorder I gave you?”
He hadn’t. He was too scared of what he would find out.
He shook his head.
Back in his kitchen, Loid prepared the rest of dinner. It sounded like Anya and Yor were nearly finished with what they were doing.
Loid retrieved the camcorder from his bag, and pressed ‘play’.
At first, he found it amusing. He even chuckled a little bit. The amateurish attempts of the kidnappers was honestly laughable. But as the video continued, the smile slid from his face.
He began to understand why Handler wanted to recruit her.
Yor did her best to hide her seething thoughts from Anya, but it was proving to be a difficult task.
The doctors at the hospital had advised that Anya’s wounds should be dressed twice daily, preferably after a shower so that she could be completely clean, so Yor carefully prepared the materials she would need while Anya took her time in the shower.
Behind the shadow of the curtain, Yor watched Anya’s shadow move slowly and cautiously as she washed herself, watched every time that Anya flinched from the sting of the water.
Anger built in Yor as she thought of the marks that Anya now carried on her arms.
When she helped Anya to unwrap the bandages, she baulked. It was a good thing that Loid didn’t see it. He no doubt would have broken something in rage.
Circular bloody cuts formed an obvious line down her arms. Clearly manmade, very likely to scar, and extremely difficult to hide.
Yor’s stomach dropped. How would Anya even begin to explain away the strange shape of her scars? Would she have to cover up her arms forever?
“Mama,” Anya said from inside the shower, and Yor jolted out of her thoughts.
“Yes, dear?”
Only the sound of the shower water spraying filled the air for a long few seconds, before it turned off.
“I’m… I’m ready now.”
Yor nodded to herself, and took the fluffiest towels she could see from the radiator. She held it behind the shower curtain for Anya to grab.
Shuffling sounds, before Anya pulled back the curtain and timidly stepped out onto the bathmat. She had wrapped the large towel around her torso, and cautiously held the towel turban atop her head.
Yor tried not to stare at the red circles that stood out so boldly on her skin. She directed Anya to sit on the edge of the bathtub, and washed her own hands in the sink.
She went slowly, first using a saline-soaked gauze to gently dab the wounds. Their redness worried her, but she pressed her mouth in a thin line as she worked so that she could try to hide her own reactions. Yor tried to be as gentle as she could, but each time that Anya hissed she felt her entire body tense with rage.
Those bastards. Those bastards . If she ever saw any of them again, she would rip their [ redacted ] clean from their [ redacted ] and shove it up their [ redacted ].
How could this happen? How could Yor have let this happen to her daughter?
She would raze the earth if it meant making sure that this never happened again.
Maybe if she kept a closer eye on Anya. If she had followed her to school like she sometimes did. If she gave the news straight away to Yuri so that he could follow up on the trail. If she had just picked Anya up from school that day instead of waiting for hours at home with no news. If she-
“Mama,” Anya whispered. “It’s not your fault.”
Yor sucked in a breath. She forgot that her thoughts were completely visible. She switched out the gauze for a clean cloth and used it to pat Anya’s skin completely dry, before she started to apply the dressings.
She brought out the bandages, and wrapped them around each of the circular points on Anya’s arm, so that it looked like she had textured stripes. Skin and cloth, skin and cloth, skin and cloth.
The whole time, Anya sat still as stone, with her lips pinched in an effort not to make any noise from the pain of it. Although the wounds were clean and on their way to healing, they were deep, and still felt tender to the touch.
“There we go,” said Yor gently, as she stretched the microtape across the bandage seams. “All done!”
“Thanks, Mama,” Anya mumbled, and Yor faltered.
She wanted so badly to show Anya that she wanted to be there for her and support her no matter what, but this was new territory for the both of them.
It was Anya that broke the silence.
“Are scars bad?” said Anya in a quiet voice.
Yor froze, her hands hovering above the remnants of the first-aid kit. What did Anya just say?
“I heard your thoughts,” she said sheepishly and looked away. “Sorry.”
“Oh,” said Yor, and frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to hear it like that.”
She closed the kit, and then moved to sit beside Anya on the edge of the bathtub.
Yor sighed. “I only meant that scars can be very recognizable. Depending on what job you have in the future, it might be hard to keep them a secret.”
Anya nodded in understanding, then creased her brow in confusion. “Am I supposed to?”
“Well,” Yor sighed. This wasn’t a conversation she had ever planned or prepared for, but out of everyone in the Forger-Briar family, Yor realised that she was the best person to do it. Her career choice had made sure of that.
“It’s your choice. Having scars is nothing to be ashamed of, so if you want to show them to anyone, that’s okay.” A thought came to her. “In fact, I’ve got plenty of scars!”
Yor rolled up her own sleeve to show Anya. “Those marks there, and that one,” she pointed out the small white lines over her hands and fingers. “Those are from when I started out as an assassin. That one-” she pointed to a dark blob. “That’s a burn mark from when I tried to cook for Yuri for the first time!”
She let out a small laugh, and to her relief, Anya joined in with a chuckle.
“Scars are stories,” said Yor, feeling a bit more positive. “You can decide the ending for yourself.” She gave her daughter a kiss on the forehead, and Anya smiled.
“Thanks, Mama.”
Yor helped Anya up, and gathered the supplies in her hands. “Now come on. Loid will have finished dinner by now. Let’s go and set the table for him.”
As Twilight had predicted, he couldn’t hide it from her.
“They want to recruit me?” Anya exclaimed, spraying flecks of butter in her excitement.
“Close your mouth when you’re eating!” Loid chided her, but sighed as he speared his own slice of meat. “But yes. Sylvia said you had talent.”
She struck a hard bargain, but in the end, Sylvia had argued that the only way that Twilight could keep his career and his family, was if the “certified telepath for a housemate” was an official agent of WISE.
“Think of the recording as an audition. She passed with flying stars, don’t you think?” she winked at him. “And it really is the only way. You train your daughter as a spy, and we get a new agent. Everyone wins!”
She beamed a smug smile at him, while Twilight’s gut twisted.
Even though he had sometimes fantasised about going on a father-daughter mission, he never even stopped to think for a second that it would actually be a possibility for him. Plus, he had hoped to spare her from a dangerous life. Being a spy was his burden to bear, so that the next generation didn’t have to suffer like they did.
“I started my job when I was younger than Anya,” said Yor calmly, and tentatively flicked her gaze up to Loid’s. “It might not be such a bad idea.”
Anya brightened. “For real?? I’m gonna be a spy??”
“Don’t get too excited,” Loid directed his attention to Anya, and she swallowed. “You would have to take a test.”
Anya groaned and threw her head back dramatically. “Ugh! I hate tests!”
“Not that kind of test,” muttered Loid, but he didn’t elaborate. The less she knew, the better.
But he had something else he needed to talk about first.
“There’s something else you should know as well,” and this time Loid steeled himself for a different kind of conversation. Anya sensed it, because she put down her knife and fork, and waited for Loid to start speaking.
“As you know, they have most of the staff in custody.” he didn't mention that Sylvia had said she would like Anya’s help with the interrogation. They would come back to it later. “But…”
It was the elephant in the room. None of them had talked about the Director yet, but they had to sooner or later.
Anya paled.
“Darling,” Yor interrupted, worried. “Are you sure it’s safe to talk about-”
“No, it’s okay,” mumbled Anya. “I already know.”
Of course she does . Loid sighed. He didn't know if he would ever get used to it.
“I’ll say it out loud anyway, if just for Yor’s benefit,” said Loid, and he leaned back from the table to maintain better eye contact with the two.
“The good news was that the lab took significant water damage, and destroyed the technical equipment. My colleagues have seized what they could from the building to analyse for information, and most of the staff have been arrested and are in custody.”
Loid let out a breath. Anya had stopped eating, and couldn’t look up from her plate of unfinished food, while Yor’s cutlery had frozen poised in midair.
“What happened to…” she cast a worried glance at Anya. “-her?”
“Gone,” said Anya, a bit too quickly. “She’s gone.”
“What?” Yor paled, and spun back round to Loid. “Is this true?”
Before Loid could even open his mouth, Anya scraped her chair back and got up from the table. “Thanks for the food,” she said in a low voice. “I’m going to my room.”
Guilt twisted in Loid’s gut as he watched Anya walk away. He resolved to go and check in on her later but for now, there was something important that he had to discuss with Yor, with or without Anya’s presence.
Yor looked just as worried as he felt. He reached across the table to hold her hand as she too stared after Anya’s receding figure.
She jolted at his touch, but didn’t move away.
“Yor,” he said softly. “Anya’s right. We still haven’t found the Director.”
“You mean,” her breath hitched. “That - that monster is still…”
He nodded.
He told her more of how WISE had put a lot of resources into trying to track the Director after the incident, but even after everything, she seemed to have just vanished.
“The Director, whoever she is, would have to build her resources again from scratch,” he added, and he met Yor’s eyes. “So we might have a bit of time to prepare Anya for what’s to come.”
He would be lying if he said that he hadn’t thought of just relocating everyone, and taking them to somewhere far away. They could start a new life, where the Director wouldn’t have a hold over Anya or their family any more.
But - and he hated to admit this - he was still a spy. Operation Strix had to continue for the sake of world peace. They had no choice but to stay in Berlint.
And if the Director could find Anya after a decade, using a child as a scout, then what would stop them from finding Anya again somewhere else?
If the Director wanted to come back for Anya, she knew where they were. And they wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Anya closed the bedroom door behind her and tried to quieten her thrumming heartbeat. Blood rushed in her ears, and she slid down to the floor against the door.
The Director’s taunting face flashed in her mind, and Anya suppressed a gasp.
The Director holding the needles, holding the scalpel, holding all the cards. The Director twisting the key into the handcuffs that held her still. The Director ordering the guards to capture her.
Always, always, the Director made themselves known to Anya through fear. Her presence inspired trembling knees and wide eyes.
Because she had control. She always had control over Anya.
Anya tried to get her breathing under control, otherwise she feared that her heart rate would skyrocket. She honestly didn’t know what she would do if she ever saw that woman again.
Her parents hadn’t seen the Director in their rescue - Anya knew that - and yet still she had hoped that she would be caught along with the other scientists and staff. How the hell did she get away?
Having the Director on the loose was the last thing she needed.
She drew her knees up closer to her, feeling the warmth of her breath on her skin. In and out.
Even though she had seen the fact in Loid’s mind, she still hoped. If the Director was gone, then she could live free. Everything would be fixed, and she would have nothing to worry about. But she had no idea what to expect for the new life that awaited her.
It was bad enough that her Mama and Papa knew. After over a decade of secrecy, she wasn't sure how she would be able to get used to the fact that they now knew her biggest secret.
Although… their reactions did surprise Anya. They didn't seem to be scared of her, so that was a plus. All those nightmares she had that people would think she was a witch and abandon her, she was glad that they did not apply to her parents. For now.
Williams.
Levski.
Roche.
It had been a while since she had remembered those names.
They thought she was creepy. She was too intuitive to be a normal child, they reminded her day after day. They invited her into their lovely homes with a smile, only to look disgusted when they handed her back.
Would Loid hand her back now that he knew the truth? Would Yor?
The fear had been ever present in her, but at that moment, Anya felt something lift from their shoulders. If they had not handed her back already, that was a good sign. He had kept her for over twelve years after all.
They knew she was an experiment in a lab, and still they chased after her. They saw her helpless and trapped, and still they got her out. They took her to the hospital. They stayed by her bedside while she recovered, and had the patience to listen to her blurt out all their secrets to each other. And still they forgave her.
Why did you all come for me?
Because we love you.
As Anya kept breathing, she felt her heart rate slow, and the rush in her ears subsided.
It would be stupid of the Director to come back for her. Not with the might of the Forgers protecting her.
With the knowledge that both of her parents would fight tooth and nail for her, Anya’s shoulders relaxed, and slowly she emerged from her cocoon.
Anya raised her head from her knees, and took a look around her room. It was almost as she had left it on that day. Schoolwork strewn across the desk, shoes stashed under the desk, although Loid must have tidied away the piles of clothes from her floor, and straightened her bed. She normally left it unmade.
An absence of silver in the corner of her eye formed a pit in her stomach. Of course Loid would have confiscated the gun that she took. If she was going to be a spy, she wanted to have her own weapon.
Something drew her eye to her bed, and Anya slowly stood while she counted out the plush toys that had been arranged in a neat pile by her pillow.
She liked having them near her pillow. It made her feel safe. Agent penguin and chimaera were her favourites of course, but there was one addition to the pile that Anya had no memory of admitting.
Anya picked up the gryphon. He fit snugly into her palm, and flopped slightly to the side, with its wings outspread, and beak lifted in a noble pose. It looked old, but not worn. It had been a well-loved toy.
The scent of cinnamon drifted up to her, and Anya lifted it up to her nose to sniff.
It smelled of… Damian?
Her brain buzzed with something she couldn't identify, but she tried to pick out the facts. Damian had been in her room. After she had been abducted. He brought her this toy - his toy.
Anya couldn't help the tears that pricked her eyes as she took in the sight of the gryphon. She knew they had their bad moments in the past, but this proved that he missed her enough to leave her a present for when she got back. If she knew Damian at all, she guessed that it took a lot for him to leave it there with her.
She would have to thank him when she saw him. It was too bad that her phone was taken, otherwise she might have sent him a text.
She put it back in its place, cradled between penguin and chimaera. Truly a place of honour.
Later, she would go back and apologise to her parents. For now, she crawled back into her bed, keeping close to her collection.
The gryphon rested against her forehead as she drifted into sleep.