Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time Yor Briar met Twilight, it was the last thing she ever did.

She was wearing her black dress, boots strapped to her thighs, golden pins in her hair. The folder containing the job details was slipped to her on a green garden table. A bar in downtown Berlint serving as a meeting location for Westalian spies. Kill everyone there. Leave no witnesses.

Thorn Princess approached the bar with no preamble. It was the first clear night in a week but large puddles of murky rainwater lingered in the streets, reflecting the flickering street lamps and illuminated business signs. She opened the door and immediately all patrons fell silent as if they already knew what was to come. With a raised blade, she politely declared their sins and asked for the honor of taking their lives as penance. In response every person in that bar raised a gun.

No one ever gave her permission. Asking was a formality really, she would kill them no matter what they said. Their struggles always seemed pointless to Yor. The moment she arrived marked their death, why couldn’t they just accept that? What honor was there to be found in desperately clawing under her grip, eyes full of terror, and mouth gaping like a dead fish? She wanted to give her targets dignity, why wouldn’t they let her do that?

The fight was brief. She decapitated two spies before they could squeeze the trigger. Another dropped dead when she threw a knife through his heart. Two more with slices across their throats. One by one, the spies dropped dead, their blood soaked into the floorboards. It looked less like a bar and more like a butcher’s kitchen. Red sprayed across the walls like graffiti and the stench of iron was so strong Yor could taste it in the air.

She pulled her knife from the soft chest of a female spy and wiped the excess blood on her dress. With this final kill, the room had fallen silent save for the television propped above the bar reading out the day’s news. This job would take extra long to clean up. She was sure that brain matter had gotten stuck in the grain of the floorboards which was always a pain to pry loose.

Yor pondered over the logistics of cleaning, unaware of the shadow darkening the bar’s doorstep. Had it been anyone else, she would’ve noticed their presence. They would’ve been dead the moment she heard them. 

But it was Twilight, not some other nameless spy, who walked in on Yor that night. He likely smelled the blood or heard the gunshots. With a gun in one hand, he approached with practiced stealth to see a woman in black standing over a dead agent’s body. He raised his gun in horror. The swish of his sleeves is what gave him away. At the sound, Thorn Princess stepped back to whirl around.

Three things happened in quick succession which sealed her fate.

Her trusty boots, after diligently serving her for so many years finally gave out. The heel snapped which caused her to trip.

The knife she flung as she turned around changed trajectory due to this sudden change in movement and instead of aiming for the intruder’s forehead went to his shoulder instead. The blade sliced through his suit and dug into his flesh.

Already, in that fraction of a second, Yor knew what was going to happen.

Her body, which she could always rely on, was off balance. She was falling to the floor and for once she could not catch herself.

The man lowered his arm in pain as blood sprayed from his shoulder. The direction of his gun fell as she did and the finger around the trigger instinctively tightened.

And then Yor finally understood why people ran away from death.

***

One cold evening in Nielsberg, fifteen year old Yor Briar woke up to her little brother Yuri frantically shaking her, sobbing and begging that she wouldn’t die. She was confused. Then she realized she was laying on the floor of their tiny kitchen and her head throbbed.

Yor had worked long into the early morning hours the previous night with a Garden assignment and then spent all day today chopping and hauling wood in preparation for the coming winter. She became distantly aware that the gnawing pain in her stomach was hunger and that she hadn’t eaten anything in almost two days, content to just cook something for Yuri and go right back into work. While her mind had been fine with this arrangement, her young body wasn’t and had given out just as she was washing the dishes.

It was a similar sensation, waking up and not realizing you passed out, when Yor saw the man in an unfamiliar bathroom. The door was partially open, letting in the pale bathroom light spill out into the dark hallway where she stood. He was facing away from her in front of the bathroom sink and in the process of attempting to close a gaping wound in his shoulder. The taut muscles of his shirtless back rippled as he pressed some gauze to the cut with a small, pained grunt. Blood marred the white tile of the bathroom and speckled tiny pinpoint jewels on the mirror. It ran like red silk ribbons down his arm and fell onto the floor as if they were the first droplets of summer rain. Something gold on the counter glinted back the dull light of the bathroom.

Yor squinted her eyes. It looked like one of her knives. Distantly, she remembered seeing the man in the bar, remembered throwing her knife at him, but nothing else. Her memory was a roll of film and someone had simply cut out what had happened between now and then. Where was she, anyway? 

The more her mind churned trying to find answers, the more fatigued she felt. She couldn’t feel her limbs and her head felt so light that she could’ve floated away with a breeze. She tried once more to remember where she was or how she could’ve gotten her there, but it was no use. Yor closed her eyes, willing to herself to wake up in a world that made sense.

She didn’t remember how long her eyes remained closed, only that when she opened them, she was in a new place. It was dark, save for a few strands of light from a streetlamp falling through the curtains. In the shadows, she could see she was in a bare bedroom devoid of any individuality. Her gaze immediately fell on the man asleep on the bed. He was curled on his side with one hand resting on his shoulder.

On the bedside table was a knife.

The knife.

Her knife.

She could see it so much more clearly now. There was no mistaking it. 

The man in the bed was the man who tried to shoot her.

The spy.

Suddenly she remembered her job, the mission that she left unfinished. She’d eliminated everyone except him.

Her body acted on the first method of execution that came to mind. Without a sound, she pounced on the man and wrapped her hands around his neck. She was so overcome with rage she couldn’t even feel the warmth of his skin or the scratch of the cheap bed sheets. As she squeezed and squeezed, she realized she couldn’t feel anything, not her hair falling on either side of her face, not the fabric of her dress, not even her overlapping fingers digging into one another.

The man didn’t wake. Didn’t even flinch. It was as if his neck was made of marble; his flesh didn’t give under her grasp. An irritated snarl fell through her lips. Finally the man’s eyes flew open with a gasp. Startled, Yor leapt back as he shot up in bed, a gun in one hand.

He stared hard at her, his brow furrowed and blonde bangs falling into his eyes. She waited for him to say something, to address her, but he stayed silent. Instead, he looked around the rest of the room in confusion. Slowly, he lowered the gun.

“Wh–Who are you?” Yor demanded, desperately trying to keep her voice firm.

The man didn’t respond. He got up, clicked on the small bedside lamp, and walked straight past her to the window.

“Hey!” she snapped.

He looked through the curtains without a response. His eyes were narrowed, like he was searching for something. In the yellow light of the lamp, Yor could see that he was tense. He kept one finger flexed parallel to the trigger on his gun.

“Stop ignoring me!” Yor tried again. She went to grab his shoulder, the one that she knew was injured, but it was like all the strength had left her. When she made contact, she found his body to be made of impenetrable rock that felt neither warm nor cold.

Finally, the man huffed to himself and laid back in bed. He winced as he carefully rolled his injured shoulder and blew out a slow, pained exhale. Yor stared at him, now more perplexed than angry.

“Can you hear me?” she asked.

Of course the man didn’t respond. Instead, he opened up the bedside table, pushed around some things, and pulled out a bottle of pills. He popped out three and tossed them into his mouth before swallowing with a dry gulp.

“Can you…see me?” she asked, now quickly losing confidence.

The man didn’t seem blind, but she wasn’t exactly sure what to look for. He’d walked around and grabbed things without any sort of fumbling. She waved a hand directly in his face. No reaction. 

Completely stumped, she watched him shove his gun back underneath his pillow, turn off the lamp, and roll onto his side. She wasn’t sure how long she stared at him in the dark, totally and utterly confused. Yor could see in his shallow breathing that he didn’t fall asleep right away, as if he could somehow sense her presence. 

Unsure of what else to do, Yor approached the bedside table where her knife still lay. Tentatively she reached out, hoping to feel the familiar cool metal against her skin.

She couldn’t feel it.

When she tried to pick it up, it was like an ant trying to lift a boulder.

She swallowed the panic rising in her chest.

The only time she felt this powerless was in her dreams. That must be what this was. 

Yor stepped away from bed. For the first time that night, she thought to look down at herself. She always dreamt of the days when it was her and Yuri living in the little cottage their parents left them. Back then she liked to wear that soft pink dress with her apron.

But when she looked down instead she saw that she wore her black Thorn Princess dress.

It was odd. She usually didn’t dream of Thorn Princess. That side of her lived carefully locked away in a part of her mind that she only let loose when the time called for it.

Well she didn’t usually dream of her targets anyway, so clearly this dream was an outlier. What an outlier it was, too, because they were never this long. Instead of the flashes of nonsensical sequences and scenes, all she’d really done in this dream so far was watch this man. It was almost boring.

She tried exploring her surroundings some more, but every time she tried picking something up or opening the door, she found that her strength still hadn’t returned to her. She tried throwing herself at the door, then the walls. She tried imagining herself in a new scenario where she was free and strong again. She tried pushing the man and yelling at him.

Nothing worked.

The first rays of daylight found Yor huddled in the far corner of the room, knees clutched to her head.

She was counting her breaths, methodically relaxing her muscles one by one, and clearing her mind. It’s what she did when she was trying to sleep. She breathed in and held it.

Try not to think about what a terrible dream this was.

Slowly exhale.

Remember that this was just a dream.

Inhale.

Try to not to think about how real it all felt.

Exhale.

Remember that this was just a dream.

Inhale.

Don’t think about how she should’ve woken up by now.

Exhale.

Remember it was just a dream.

Just a dream.

Just a dream.

Just a dream.

***

Yor opened her eyes to find herself on a busy street. It didn’t feel like she’d slept. She was standing on the sidewalk but couldn’t feel her heels pressing into her feet.

Just ahead of her, the man stood in front of a boutique window admiring a wrist watch on display. 

Yor wanted to cry.

She was so sick of this already. What more was she to do? Wait out this awful dream? How much longer would it go on?

The man was leaning down to the watch display, but Yor realized his gaze was tracking the reflections of the bystanders in the glass. She’d heard about this trick before, how spies check for tails in mirrors.

“Who are you looking for?” she asked the man. Her voice was partially drowned out from the murmur of the busy street. She stepped closer and tried again. “Do you see anyone?”

She didn’t expect an answer and didn’t receive one. After a moment, the man stood up and resumed striding down the sidewalk. Yor didn’t particularly want to follow this man anymore, but something within her compelled her to anyway. She kept in pace alongside the man as he navigated the streets of Berlint, further away from main avenues and down empty roads and alleys.

His route led him to a photobooth not too far away from city hall where she worked in the daytime.

“You’re taking a photo?” she asked with some bewilderment. “Now?”

He climbed inside the booth and pulled the privacy curtain closed. Yor wasn’t exactly eager to wedge herself beside the man inside the tiny compartment, so she resolved to wait outside until he was done.

That was until she blinked and she found herself doing exactly that; sitting so close to the man in the cramped booth that she was practically sitting on his lap. She jumped back with a yelp, but hit her head against the roof of the photobooth. Thankfully this dream prevented her from hurting herself from such an impact. However, hurting herself was the furthest thing from her mind. She absolutely had to get away from this man but no matter how much she clawed at the privacy screen it stayed closed shut.

It was then that she realized the small booth was vibrating with movement. With the creak of a hidden elevator mechanism, the interior of the photobooth descended into the ground. The man checked the time on his watch like this was a normal occurrence for him.

“Wh–Where are we going?” Yor asked the man while still trying to escape the confines of the booth.

As if to answer her, the compartment came to a shuddering stop not too long after it had begun descending. The man pulled back the curtain to reveal a wide, dimly lit office space filled with rows of crowded desks. A handful of men and women —spies—sat at these desks muttering among themselves.

When the man stepped out of the booth and into the room, the murmurs paused and all eyes fell on him.

Under the flickering lights, he walked past all of them without a word and Yor followed. At first, she thought the man was some sort of unpopular colleague, thus the silence upon his arrival. But as their gazes followed the man, she realized they looked grim, pitying almost, like he was a sickly dog they saw on the street. He ignored their gloomy expressions and went straight to the back of the room where he knocked on an office door. A muffled voice beckoned him in.

Yor barely managed to slide into the office after the man before he closed the door. It was a room three times as cluttered as the one outside. At the front, a redheaded woman wearing a large hat sat at a desk overflowing with folders and empty mugs.  Yor wondered if this was what a spy’s office looked like. Why had her subconscious decided to make it so messy? Everything she’d learned about spies, other than hunting them down and killing them, was from that silly kid’s cartoon that played on television sometimes. It didn’t look anything like this. It didn’t feel right.

“Twilight,” the woman muttered. She held her head on interlaced fingers. She looked somber.

“Here’s the report,” the man—Twilight?—said, producing a folder from his trench coat to hold out to her. 

“Are you okay?” she asked without taking it.

“Well enough.” He put it on her desk in front of her. “It’s a pity, but it’s to be expected. I’ve lost colleagues before.”

“There’s losing a colleague and then there’s finding seven of them slaughtered like pigs. I saw the pictures. It looked like a massacre, Twilight.”

“I lived through war, Handler. I know what it looked like.”

“They got Nightfall.”

“I know.” He opened the folder and tapped something on the report. “But I got the killer. She’s dead.”

Curious, Yor approached the desk and leaned forward to see what he was pointing to, but the woman closed the folder before she could. Beside her, the man subtly flinched.

“Yes, thank you for that,” the woman said. “I’ve already assigned some of the other agents to look into her, but I’m starting to suspect that she was a member of Garden.”

Both Yor and the man stood up straight and looked at her.

“Garden? But I thought they were just an urban legend,” he said.

“We’re not,” Yor mumbled.

“That’s what I thought, but we got some more intel that suggests otherwise. I don’t have anything concrete yet but I’ll let you know as soon as I do,” the woman said as she rifled around her desk, looking for something. The man cleared his throat.

“I can look into it. I could find something. I have a few informants,” he offered.

“Absolutely not. I know you’re injured. You need to recuperate, I’m putting you on surveillance.”

The man sputtered. “I can handle it. Have one of the rookies do surveillance.”

“Twilight—”

Yor began to tune out the tedious back and forth of the spies. In her boredom, she walked around and inspected the office; investigating the long wilted plant in the corner, reading reports left open on shelves, and recoiling in disgust when she found a moldy pastry perched on top of the overflowing trash can. A spy office wasn’t as exciting as she’d hoped it would be. She hadn’t seen any interesting weapons yet.

“—and I will not lose another agent,” the woman said firmly. She held out a stack of folders to him. “Now go. That’s an order.”

By now, Yor was standing over the woman’s shoulder, peering at the half-written document in her typewriter. The man made an odd sound, one that sounded like a combination of confusion and surprise. She looked up.

He was staring right at her.

Not at the shelves behind her. Directly at her.

Startled, Yor jumped back, having gotten so used to being invisible that she didn’t know what to do now that she could be perceived. The man blinked, then confusion bloomed across his features. His superior, clearly having taken his silence for indignation, scowled.

“Twilight,” she barked, “This is not a suggestion. Go.”

The man blinked again then looked down to his boss.

“Yes, Handler,” he muttered.

He scooped up the files and turned to leave. As Yor followed him, he glanced over his shoulder where she had been standing behind the desk.

Had he seen her?

“Twilight,” someone called after he stepped out of the office.

He turned to see an older agent with a thick mustache approach him and clap a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” the agent said quietly. His eyes held the same sorrow that the woman had. “I heard about what happened at the bar.”

The bar.

Suddenly Yor understood why all of the spies were so somber. Guilt began to curl in her chest as she realized these were the colleagues of the spies she assassinated last night. She was the reason why all of their friends were dead. It was the most bizarre sensation. She’d never once felt bad for the people she killed. They were criminals, scum that sought to upend peace and wreak havoc.

But now all of those people she killed in that bar seemed a little less evil. How could they when she saw their friends mourn them?

And why was she dreaming of this?

“We’re gonna have a get together tonight. Not at a bar–” the agent laughed bitterly–”at Safehouse B. There’ll be some food and drink; real Westalian whiskey, not that Ostanian dish water. You wanna come?”

“I can’t. I got surveillance.”

“C’mon, Sylvia will forgive you if you pass that off to someone else tonight.”

“I’m fine, really.”

The agent sighed and leaned close to the man, his voice dropping to a murmur.

“Listen, Twilight, I know you worked closely with a lot of those agents. Especially Nightfall. And I know that people like you and me don’t exactly have a lot of freedom to talk about how we feel,” he said, “But take it from an old guy; there’s nothing wrong with feeling sad. Or feeling happy, for that matter. If you bottle it up too long, you’re gonna crack one day.”

The man nodded. “I’m aware.”

The agent looked at him hard like he didn’t believe him before clapping his shoulder again and letting go.

“If you say so, Twi-guy. The offer still stands for tonight.”

With that, he left to go converse with some of the other agents, leaving the man standing alone in the big room. His eyes swept across some of the unoccupied desks; undoubtedly where his fallen comrades had once worked. Something like a sigh escaped his lips while he thought. Beside him, Yor stood, hands clasped behind her back. Even with his ramrod posture, she could see he held a great weight within him.

“For what it’s worth,” she said softly, “I’m sorry.”

Not for the first time, she wished he could hear her.

***

She followed him all day.

Followed him to the park where he surreptitiously switched briefcases with a woman sitting at a bench. Followed him to a deli where he ate his lunch in four bites. Followed him to a cigarette stand where the clerk complained to him about women. Followed him to a rooftop where he spent several tedious hours in complete silence watching someone through a pair of binoculars across the street.

It was mind numbing.

Occasionally she would try to tap his shoulder or jiggle a doorknob. As usual, nothing happened. She resorted to people watching. It was entertaining enough until the sun began to set and the street dried of people.

Dread built in her stomach all day, festering and curdling as the realization dawned on her that this probably wasn’t a dream. They’d passed that possibility several hours ago. For about an hour while he stared through his binoculars, she’d paced in circles around the roof, wondering what to do now. If she wasn’t dreaming then what was going on? Was she hallucinating? Was she in an incredibly intense daydream?

Finally, when she’d made herself dizzy, she sat back down next to the man. For a brief moment back in that office, he’d reacted like he could see her. Maybe all she had to do was to get him to see her again. Perhaps then she could talk to him and try to get some answers.

“You still can’t hear me, right?” she asked.

He didn’t respond at all.

“Your name is Twilight,” she said, more to herself than to him. “That’s what everyone is calling you. But it’s probably just a code name.”

It was an odd code name. But who was she to judge?

“And you’re Westalian.”

She couldn’t tell by looking at him. Westalis and Ostania were born from a once-unified nation, so ethnically they were practically identical. But as a girl her brother had whispered a rumor he’d heard from his classmates at school; that Westalians had long claws like wild cats and fangs like demons.

Absent-mindedly, Yor glanced over the man’s hands. His nails were neatly trimmed, not long claws at all. She couldn’t be sure about the teeth, though. She hadn’t seen him smile and got the impression that he usually didn’t.

“You seem like a reasonable person, Twilight,” she continued, “I was hoping you could help with…whatever this is.”

His eyes narrowed behind the binoculars. She followed his gaze across the street where there was movement in an alley by a large hotel. Twilight leapt to his feet and vaulted himself down from the rooftop with the help of the fire escape. Yor easily kept up, but his agility surprised even her.

Once on the ground, he set off in the direction of the alleyway. Immediately she could see his target; a shifty looking man hunched forward in a large coat that swallowed his frame. Twilight kept a good distance from his target but was careful to not be spotted. Under the cover of lengthening shadows, Twilight and Yor slipped through alleys and ducked into doorways while in silent pursuit of the strange man. They followed him onto a main street lined with shops where there were a few people they could blend in with.

As they passed a bakery closing up shop, Twilight glanced in the reflection of the glass windows and jumped back, alarmed. Yor was so caught up in the focus of chasing down the man that his jumpiness caused her to jerk back in surprise as well. Before she could determine what had caused his panic, however, Twilight’s head swiveled back to the target down the street.

The target was gone.

Twilight muttered a curse.

He strode down the street in as fast and as long strides as his faux normalcy would allow, desperately searching for any sign of the target. However, the longer he looked, the more obvious it became that the target had vanished in the blink of an eye. After triple checking every possible turn, Twilight swore out loud, uncaring if anyone heard.

Yor glanced back down the road to the bakery they’d passed earlier. What had Twilight seen that scared him so much?

Twilight shoved his hands into his trenchcoat and began quickly walking back to a little side street not frequented by the public. Yor followed along, curious to see where he was going next. He was walking so fast that she almost had to jog to keep up. He turned into an alley then spun around to face her.

He was holding a gun straight to her forehead.

“Where did you come from?” His words were as hard and cold as ice. “How long have you been following me?”

Yor froze in her tracks, eyes wide, unsure of what to say. She’d been trying to get his attention all day and now that she had it, she didn’t know where to begin.

“C–Can you see me?” she asked cautiously.

Twilight’s frown deepened with confusion.

“Yes. Now tell me who you are and why you’re following me,” he demanded.

“I’ve been following you all day. Did you not see me before?” she said. The hand around his gun tensed.

“When did you start? Where? Who are you? Who sent you?”

“This afternoon! B–Before you went into that photobooth and–and talked to the woman with the hat!” she stammered, “I was there the whole time!”

His eyes widened and he lowered his gun ever so slightly. He spoke again, but a slight quiver in his voice betrayed his disorientation.

“What do you mean? You were in the office with Handler? You heard everything?”

“Yes–well, I wasn’t really paying attention, but yes. Didn’t you see me?”

Twilight swallowed.

“I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.”

So he had seen her!

“I don’t know what’s going on,” she said desperately, “I don’t know why I’m invisible to everyone. I can’t touch or feel anything and I can’t figure out why. All I can do is just follow you.”

Her breathing began to shake but she continued anyway.

“All I remember is last night at the bar. I d–don’t know if this is a dream or if I’m going crazy, but I just want it to be over.” Her vision blurred. If she was crying, she couldn’t feel the warmth of tears on her cheeks or taste the salt on her tongue. “I’m s–sorry f–for killing your friends. Please just let me wake up.”

As she cried, the streetlamps flickered on one by one, bathing the darkening streets in soft yellow light. Twilight lowered his gun but kept the barrel pointed at Yor. Without taking his eyes off her, he reached into his trenchcoat and pulled out a manila folder. He balanced it on his arm and extracted a photo.

“You’re the assassin from last night?” he asked carefully. Tearfully, she nodded.

He sucked in a long, deep breath and held out the photo for her to see.

“You attacked me last night. But your heel snapped and you slipped.”

The photo was of a woman in a black dress lying on the floor of the bar surrounded by the splayed limbs of dead bodies. The flash of the camera made her skin look so pale that it was stark white. Dark, dried blood ran down her face from a large circular hole in the woman’s forehead.

Yor choked back a sob.

“I shot you,” Twilight murmured.

Yor reached for the photo, unsure if she could really believe what she was seeing. Twilight released his hold on the paper, but it slipped through her shaking fingers like she was made of air. It fluttered to the ground at her feet.

“You’re dead.”

***

Yor didn’t know where she was. Her body didn’t need food, water, or sleep. She couldn’t do anything except cry. The world around her moved on and continued to live; she stayed put and sobbed.

She was dead.

Her mind couldn’t comprehend it. When she tried to understand the finality of it, all she could think about was Yuri. She’d sworn to protect him when their parents died. Now she’d left him all alone without his big sister to watch over him.

She’d never talk to him again. Never hug him again. Never have him over for dinner. Never fuss over how much he was eating or sleeping. Never laugh when he insisted she meet one of his nice coworkers over coffee.

She fell apart over and over and over. And every time she did, there was a little less left to lose next time

It became clear very quickly that Twilight was the only one who could see or hear her. When she followed him home after the revelation in the alley, not one soul batted an eye at the woman wailing her heart out on the sidewalk. Twilight set his mouth in a hard, straight line and ignored her. In his apartment, she sat against the wall in the small living room and stayed there all night crying into her hands. 

Maybe she cried for days. Maybe she cried for weeks. Yor couldn’t tell. She didn’t pay attention to time crawling by. All she did was cry and follow Twilight. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him, but every time she tried walking or running away, she’d blink and find herself standing right next to him. He dragged her along no matter where he went.

She tried killing him a couple times. When his back was turned, she wrapped her hands around his neck. He only shuddered like he was caught in a cold breeze. She stopped trying after a while.

Twilight’s days were a blur of stakeouts in nondescript cars or on windy rooftops. He rarely spoke to Yor, but his gaze would occasionally drift over and he’d watch her like she was a difficult puzzle he couldn’t understand. Once he went to a doctor who showed him pictures that looked like spilled ink and scanned his head in a big metal machine.

“I can’t find anything with these results,” the doctor muttered as he flipped through the papers on his clipboard. “Have you been under a lot of stress lately?”

Twilight didn’t go back.

Finally, one evening when she was fed up with crying, she rose to her feet one night and wiped her face. She couldn’t tell if she actually had tears on her cheeks, but it was more muscle memory than anything. They were back in Twilight’s apartment, although she’d overheard him refer to it as a safehouse. He was sitting at the kitchen table in front of a myriad of open files and a cup of coffee gone cold. Between his lips was a cigarette. 

She walked to the other side of the table and placed her hands down over the files. He paused and slowly looked up.

“I’m tired of this,” she said, “I want to go.”

His eyes searched the room around her as if looking for the source of her voice before settling on her.

“You’re welcome to leave,” he murmured around the cigarette.

“Then let me go.”

“I’m not holding onto you.”

“Then why is it that when I try to leave I come back to you?”

Twilight sighed and tapped the ash from the cigarette into a full tray beside him.

“I don’t know why. I’m just as confused as you are,” he said tiredly, “I don’t want someone haunting my every move, yet here we are.”

Yor stiffened.

“Haunting you? Is that what I am? A ghost?”

“That or a figment of my imagination. I can’t tell anymore.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. He looked exhausted.

“I was hoping you’d go away on your own. Clearly that’s not going to happen anytime soon,” he continued, “Look, I don’t want this any more than you do, but maybe we can work something out. I can help you…I don’t know, pass on if you’ll quit crying nonstop and lurking in doorways.”

Yor stared hard at him, her eyebrows pushed together so closely that they almost made a straight line.

“Sorry,” Twilight quickly added, sensing her offense, “I know it can’t be easy being dead but…it’s distracting. I keep jumping every time I turn around and see you.”

It was Yor’s turn to sigh. Or at least mimic a sound like one. In the past few days, she had realized that she didn’t breathe anymore.

“I suppose so,” she said quietly. Twilight nodded.

“Good. In the meantime, however, I need to work, so…” He gestured to the empty apartment. “Make yourself comfortable.”

He winced as if he knew what he was staying was ridiculous, but made no mention of it. 

With as heavy feet one could have while being an incorporeal being, Yor wandered into the adjacent living room area and fell onto a threadbare sofa. Not being able to feel anything was driving her crazy. What she would give to feel the rough fabric of the sofa under her or the dusty floorboards beneath her feet. 

The only thing she felt was emptiness.

“Twilight,” she called into the apartment. She heard him stir.

“Yes?” he called back. 

She bit her lip with hesitation. “Could you turn on the radio for me? You can turn it down low so as to not disturb you.” Her hands fiddled with themselves. “I just…I can’t really do anything else.”

Twilight was silent for a moment before answering a simple, “Alright.”

He came over to the living room and switched on a little beige radio which sat on a shelf.

“Do you have a preference for the station?” he asked. She shook her head.

He tinkered with the dial and the radio sputtered out static and clips of songs and laughter until a man’s voice came clear through the noise. It was a local talk show where the host was interviewing a recently published author.

“Thank you,” she murmured to Twilight. He gave her a curt nod before returning to his files.

She stayed by the radio all night, listening to different shows and hosts talk about the news, politics, celebrities, movies, books, and technology. Twilight stayed up late as well, scratching away at his notes until the small clock on the wall chimed three. Without another word, he slipped into the safehouse bedroom and, a little while later, she heard his even snores through the wall. She eventually moved to sit on the floor where she held her knees tucked under her chin and she looked at her hands, the tinny voice coming from the radio passing through her like a breeze.

She still couldn’t believe it. 

How was any of this real?

How long would this last?

Her mind bounced between these thoughts and the radio for hours, spinning and spinning within endless circles.

Finally, when the dark windows of the safehouse started to turn blue with the approaching sunrise and the radio began reading out the weather forecast, her exhausted mind had to face the truth.

This was her reality now. There was no going back.

***

It turned out the man at the cigarette stand was an informant of some kind. Twilight had gone to him three times this week and every time he went, the clerk slipped him some documents in exchange for a thick envelope of cash.

“–And as soon as we got to the restaurant, she told me she had to go home to check on her cat!” the clerk complained, “Now she’s not answering any of my calls!”

“Is that so,” Twilight said flatly. He was thumbing through a packet of papers the clerk had given him with his morning newspaper.

“Yeah, and then you know what I found out?! She doesn’t even have a cat! She was—are you even listening?!”

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Yor laughed. She was leaning against the stand a little ways away from Twilight to give him some privacy, but she couldn’t help overhearing their conversation. The clerk, while usually grumpy, always had something funny to say. Twilight gave her a small glance before looking up to the clerk.

“I’m sorry to hear that the woman who expressed obvious disinterest in you turned out to not be interested in you,” he deadpanned.

Yor giggled again.

“You don’t have to put it that way, asshole,” the clerk grumbled, “And I thought that Sherry really did like me. That’s why I asked her out.”

“If you couldn’t see the warning signs beforehand, then I fear there’s no hope for you.”

“Hey!”

After Twilight had gotten everything he needed from the clerk, Yor kept up alongside him as he strode down the sidewalk. She discovered that, as a ghost, she really didn’t need to put much effort into walking. A long time ago, Yuri had told her that the moon didn’t have strong gravity like Earth and that if you jumped or ran on the moon’s surface, you’d end up going much farther with a fraction of the effort. 

She felt like that now. Yor bounced through the air like she weighed no more than a feather. And, in a way, she weighed even less than that. Perhaps with some practice, she could fly like the ghosts she’d read about in books.

“Are you two friends?” she asked Twilight. He gave her a quizzical look.

“With who?”

She nodded in the direction of the cigarette stand. “The clerk at the stand,” she said, “You two seem close.”

For whatever reason, this displeased Twilight.

“We are not friends. People in my line of work don’t have friends,” he said with a frown.

“Your line of work? You mean being a spy?”

Even though no one else could hear or see Yor, Twilight bristled at the word “spy” and darted his eyes down the street to see if anyone else was within earshot.

“Yes,” he murmured so quietly that Yor could hardly hear him, “Spies.”

They continued walking in silence as if that single word alone had used up all the conversation left between them. Twilight reached a car parked along a busy road and pulled a set of car keys from his pocket. He was about to get into the driver’s side before he paused and glanced at Yor.

“Do you…need help getting in?” he asked hesitantly.

“Th–That would be helpful, yes,” Yor stammered.

With another quick check down the street to make sure no one was watching him, he trotted to the other side of the car and opened the door for her. She slid into the passenger seat as quickly as she could manage and he hurriedly shut the door after her. Out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw the tips of Twilight’s ears flush pink. He climbed in and started driving. 

Yor remembered he’d driven a couple different cars in the past few days. They likely didn’t belong to him but rather to whatever agency he worked for. This car was a bit old. It puttered down the street in puffs of exhaust. The interior was covered in a thin layer of grime and ash. If she could smell, Yor guessed it probably reeked of smoke.

“How long have you been a spy, Twilight?” she suddenly asked.

“I can’t tell you. Classified,” came the immediate answer.

“Who would I tell? You’re the only person who can see me,” she said. His grip on the wheel tightened.

“Still, it’s a precaution to not divulge personal information,” Twilight explained, “I don’t know who you are nor do I completely understand your…situation. The first time I met you, you had just finished killing seven of my colleagues and were about to kill me as well.”

His words stabbed her like one of her knives. Even though she no longer had a heart, she knew that if she did have one, it would hurt right now. She started down at her hands laying limp on her lap.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

She wanted to tell him that she had no idea who those people in the bar were, only that Shopkeeper had told her they were western spies poisoning Ostanian society. She had done it to protect her country; she had done it to protect Yuri. She never wanted to hurt good people. And, from what she learned from following Twilight for this long, that the western spies were, at the very least, not the soulless monsters she thought.

“How about we make a deal,” Twilight said a bit more gently, “We can swap information about each other. It’ll be a trade.”

She clenched her fists. She knew this was him extending an olive branch, but there was one thing she had to get out of the way.

“I’ll accept on one condition.”

He spared her a glance. “What is it?”

Yor took in one big non-existent breath to calm her non-existent nerves.

“I–I have a brother,” she said carefully, “He’s my only family. You have to promise to not hurt him or…or rope him into any of your spy affairs. Okay?”

Twilight’s eyes remained on the road until he stopped at a red light. Rain began to tap at the windshield and he flicked on the car lights.

“Alright, then. Deal.”

Yor felt the slightest bit relieved, but apprehension still lingered in her chest.

“I want to know your name,” Twilight said.

She stared out the car window. Her view of the people hunched over in the rain was distorted by the water sliding down the glass. 

“Yor Briar,” she said faintly. “What is your name?”

“Twilight.”

Her head whipped around to look at him. “That’s your codename,” she protested, but immediately she began doubting herself. No sane person named their child Twilight…right?

“It’s what I’m known as, even to myself, Ms. Briar. I’ve been trained to forget my real name,” Twilight said simply as if he were discussing the weather, not the fact that he’d lost an important facet of his identity. Yor wanted to protest, but already she knew it was a pointless argument.

“Then who do you work for?” she asked instead.

“WISE. A Westalian intelligence agency.”

“And why are you in Ostania?”

He frowned. “It’s my turn. Who do you work for? Who put out a hit on that bar?” he asked.

Yor chewed the inside of her cheek. After working so hard all her adult life to keep her assassin work a secret, it felt wrong to so freely spill this information.

“Garden. And no, it’s not an urban legend.”

The car swerved on the road, narrowly avoiding a stray dog that sprinted across the street, tail between its legs. He looked at her, his eyes wide with disbelief. It was the most emotion she’d ever seen him display at once.

“You’re a Garden assassin?” he asked. She nodded bashfully.

“Was,” she quietly corrected.

His focus was tugged away from her and to the road, but he still blinked with surprise.

“My boss, the Shopkeeper, that’s what we call him, is–was–the one who gave me assignments,” she explained softly, “I don’t know where he gets the targets from or what his agenda is. All I know is that he told me we were protecting Ostania from vermin. That’s why I did it. To protect my family, to protect my brother.”

She suddenly wanted to leap out of the car and lay down on the road until someone ran over her. The words coming out of her mouth felt less like strong convictions and more like weak excuses.

“I’m sorry for killing your friends,” she repeated, voice quivering, “They sound like they were good people.”

Twilight had said that he had no friends, but even she could see the sorrow in his eyes when he had looked at those empty desks.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Twilight muttered after a long silence, “We’ve all done things for the sake of following orders; because we believe it’s the right thing to do.”

Yor stared hard out the window, counting the droplets running down the glass and trying to ignore her burning guilt.

“Is that why you’re a spy? Because you believe it’s the right thing to do?” she asked. She hadn’t meant to sound accusatory, but the tremor in her words made it sound like she was.

“Yes,” he replied solemnly, “I want this fragile peace to last. That’s why I’m a spy.”

While Yor was terrible at keeping up with politics, she’d heard whispers of war breaking out between Ostania and Westalis again. There was a tension in the air, one that kept building every day that passed, one that would have to break eventually. The question on everyone’s mind was if it would break with an explosion or a truce.

Yor knew that Garden’s objective was to protect Ostania from weeds, as the Shopkeeper put it. Maintain its beauty as a glorious garden, free from the threat of choking vines. Did that include fighting for peace between nations? Or did the safety of Ostania come at the cost of Westalis? She looked down at her hands, the ones that had been slick with red the night she died and wondered if a peace that came at the cost of so much blood was really peace at all.

“Are you going to tell your boss all of this?” she asked.

“Eventually, yes,” he replied before adding apologetically, “I’m sorry, but information is incredibly valuable, especially about an organization such as Garden. I hope you understand.”

“No, no, I…I understand,” she murmured. This is the price of knowing a spy, she supposed. Everything was information and intelligence to be used. “I just hope you understand I don’t know very much. I was just a soldier. I wasn’t the one making decisions.”

He hummed with thought. “Something is more than nothing, which is what we have.”

Yor gulped and went back to staring out the window. Was she betraying Garden by talking to Twilight? If the Shopkeeper knew she’d divulged this information, would he hurt Yuri in retaliation? But then again, how would he find out? What good would punishing her now do? And besides, if Twilight was telling the truth, then they were fighting for similar things. Surely if their goals aligned, then maybe it wasn’t so bad she was telling him this.

It still stung for some reason.

“You said you’d help me out as well,” she said, trailing off and hoping he’d pick up.

“Yes, of course,” he said, “Although I will be honest, I’m quite out of my depth when it comes to the supernatural. I’ll have to do some research.”

“I see. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

After a moment, he looked over to Yor and gave her a small smile, the first she’d ever seen from him. But it didn’t look genuine. Instead, it felt purposeful, diplomatic.

“I hope that we’ll be able to help each other out,” he said.

She stared at her boots. The heel was still broken.

“I hope so as well.”

***

Twilight’s handler had given him the clear to take on more strenuous missions. Every morning after he strode out of his safehouse room already fully dressed, he still stretched his injured shoulder with a wince while pouring himself coffee. Yor couldn’t tell if he knew he was doing it or not, but he’d insisted to his boss that he was ready for the field again. 

The living situation in the safehouse was unusual but had become familiar to them. Fortunately, the apartment was just big enough that Twilight wouldn’t rubber band Yor to him while walking around. She had claimed the sparse living room as hers where the small radio was constantly playing turned low. She spent every night laying beside it, listening to the constant murmur of host after host interviewing minor celebrities or raving about a book they read. It would’ve been nice to have a television, but the safehouse didn’t have one. It didn’t bother Yor too much.

Twilight didn’t talk to her very much in the apartment. He kept to the kitchen table where he worked on solving ciphers or analyzing intel. He didn’t seem to cook very much either, content to just eat at little delis and cafes while out and about. After that first night, Yor never went into his room, but occasionally, she’d catch a glimpse of gold on his night stand when he opened the door.

She liked it when he went out on missions, even if they had all been stakeouts so far. It wasn’t so dull and she got to walk among other people. She could pretend for just a little bit that she could feel the warmth of the sun or smell the exhaust of a passing delivery truck. She could pretend she was still alive.

That was why she was excited when the woman in the hat gave Twilight an assignment to infiltrate a military research facility to recover…something she didn’t quite catch. She was a bit distracted. The woman’s office was messy as usual, but this time she had an odd knife of some sort on her desk. Apparently it had been recovered in another agent’s mission. Yor was busy admiring the blade when Twilight got the assignment.

“A military research facility!” she gushed while he ate a kebab from a street cart after his meeting. “I’ve never seen one! I wonder what sort of interesting things they’ll have there. Maybe there will be knives like that one on your boss’s desk!”

“The Ostanian military hasn’t fought with blades in almost a hundred years. They most likely have things like bombs or planes. No one uses blades anymore,” Twilight answered dryly.

“Well, in my work, I used knives just fine,” she pouted.

He raised an eyebrow. “Just knives?”

“Yes! Well, Garden assassins are trained in all manner of weapons and we choose our specialty,” Yor explained excitedly, “I liked knives the best. I tried all sorts of knives; machetes, darts, bayonets–I even tried some swords. But I knew right away as soon as I picked up those stilettos that they were what I wanted to specialize in. I practiced with the ones that Garden provided me, but the ones I use on my jobs are custom made. I worked with my mentor to design a pair specifically made for me. We studied all sorts of bladed weapons throughout history and ended up using a lot of inspiration from rapiers and–”

It was then that she realized Twilight was staring at her, his mouth mid-chew. It wasn’t the kind of scornful stare she was used to drawing when she accidentally said something weird at city hall. Rather it was a stare of something she could only describe as intrigued; like she was a book turned to the page where the story began to pick up. If she still had blood, her face would’ve glowed red enough to use as landing lights for planes.

“…A–Anyway, um…” she stammered, all passion in her voice quickly deflating, “…I, uh, used knives…”

Twilight nodded while he swallowed his food. “You were trained in all weapons, you said?” he asked, “What kinds? Even bombs and poisonous gasses?”

Yor desperately wished she could still touch things so she could give her hands something to do and wouldn’t have to look at Twilight directly. 

“W–Well, we only focused on weapons that we could control. Bombs and gasses are too destructive and unpredictable. We did learn about poisons, though. One of my colleagues specialized in it,” she explained.

“I see,” he murmured thoughtfully, “Very interesting.”

“Is it?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“Of course. No one knows anything about Garden, this is valuable intel, Ms. Briar,” he replied and tossed the empty kebab wrapper into the trash. She frowned.

“Right. Intel,” she muttered and followed him down the sidewalk to his next destination.

Twilight was correct, of course. The research facility didn’t have any knives or swords. It was a huge brick box of a building surrounded by tall barbed chainlink fences and full of long beige corridors. Yor couldn’t hide her extreme disappointment.

However, one thing that the facility did have was guard dogs, which greatly cheered her up.

“Oh you are so cute!” she squealed while crouching down to cup the cheeks of a large brown and black dog. Her fingers went straight through his fur, but it looked so soft and fluffy she could practically feel it anyway. The dog’s ears flicked with interest.

They were inside one of the long beige hallways. Twilight was chatting with a nearby officer through a window made of reinforced glass. Next to him were two guards with obedient dogs attentively sitting by their feet. 

“You are such a good, good boy, can you hear me, Mr. Dog?” she gushed.

Twilight let out a single quiet snort of laughter. The dog’s ears flicked again but otherwise remained still.

The officer behind the window pressed a button and the door beside him popped open with a noisy click. Reluctantly, Yor followed Twilight into the next hallway. He didn’t look like his usual self. His hair was an ashy gray and he looked like he’d aged thirty years. Yor had screamed when he emerged from the safehouse bathroom in his disguise. Even his voice was different; now it was high and nasally and not at all pleasantly smooth like it usually was. He’d explained to her that he was impersonating one of the head researchers at this facility, thus the strange wig and frumpy clothes. It made sense but Yor still had a hard time believing it was really him.

As they navigated the maze of hallways, they passed by a few windows looking into large laboratories filled with strange machinery Yor couldn’t possibly begin to understand. She was dying to ask Twilight what they did because it seemed like he knew everything. But it would be weird if one of the head scientists was caught wandering around and talking to himself, so she kept quiet. They passed a few other scientists which Twilight greeted by name but otherwise the facility was empty. It was evening, after all. Distantly, Yor wondered which radio shows she was missing right now.

They came to a stop in front of an office door. After a quick glance up and down the hallway, Twilight extracted a set of lockpocks from his sleeve and set to work on the door. His fingers moved nimbly, but based on the divot appearing between his artificially wrinkled brow, the door seemed more difficult to open than he anticipated. This was almost as alarming as seeing Twilight dressed in another man’s skin; Yor had never seen him struggle with anything. She began pacing again behind him in worry while he continued to work at the lock.

The echo of approaching footsteps caused Yor to pause in her pacing. At the sound, Twilight moved a little faster, the sense of shared panic rising between both of them. Yor peeked around the corner as far as she dared where an older man in a simple lab coat chatting with two colleagues while they walked. The man looked familiar. Yor glanced back to Twilight who still hadn’t gotten the lock yet.

“Twilight, that scientist you’re impersonating–he doesn’t happen to be an identical twin, does he?” she asked nervously.

“No, he only has a sister who is six years younger than him,” he replied automatically without looking up like he was reading off a profile, “His father is a twin, but they’re fraternal twins, not iden–wait, why are you asking me this?”

“Because I think the scientist is walking down the hall right now towards us.”

“What?” he hissed.

He went to look around the corner, but Yor stepped in front of him. Even though he could pass right through her, he stopped.

“He’s coming this way, he’ll see you,” Yor whispered quickly. There was no reason for her to be quiet, but she couldn’t stop her instincts from lowering her voice. “Work on the door. I’ll keep a lookout.”

Twilight hesitated for only a fraction of a second before returning to the lock with renewed vigor. Yor looked back around the corner. The scientists had paused in the hallway to discuss something on a clipboard.

“How long do I have?” Twilight murmured.

“Uh…” Yor glanced at Twilight then back to the men in the hallway, “Well, they’ve stopped to talk about something…oh, wait, they’re walking this way–but one of them had to tie his shoe.” She worriedly looked back to Twilight. “Y–You should really hurry, you know.”

“I’m trying, Ms. Briar,” Twilight grumbled, “This paracentric keyway is a nightmare to pick.”

The door suddenly popped open and Yor let out a heavy, nonexistent sigh of relief. Twilight slipped into the small, crowded office, Yor just behind him. He immediately set to work prying open filling cabinets and sifting through documents while she nervously shifted from foot to foot. What would happen to her if they caught Twilight? She shuddered, imagining having to spend years stuck in a gray cell beside Twilight. Or worse, listening to his screams while they tortured and interrogated him.

“What are you looking for? Maybe I can help?” she asked. She couldn’t really help, being incorporeal and all, but maybe she could keep an eye out for something specific.

“I need to find diagrams of a bomb, specifically the XTPA-9684. I just need to take photographs of them, that and to find the date and location of their test drops,” Twilight whispered as he rifled through a thick stack of folders. Despite how small the room was, the sheer amount of paper and stuff would take at least a week to sort through. It reminded Yor of Twilight’s Handler’s office. “For now, just listen for–aha!”

Yor already had an ear pressed against the door when she heard the rustle of paper and the snaps of a small camera lens. It seemed that Twilight had found whatever he was looking for and was making good use of the small camera concealed in his wrist watch.

“Is that all?” she asked.

“I just need that date and location,” Twilight grunted as he shoved the blueprints back where he’d found them. “He won’t have that data just lying around somewhere.”

Both of them leapt at the jangle of keys on the other side of the door, their wide eyes meeting in mutual panic. In a silent flash of movement, Twilight unlatched and slipped through the air vent near the foot of the scientist’s desk. Yor, out of instinct, dove out of the way and into a stack of binders and boxes without a sound just as the door swung open. The scientist strode straight past Yor sprawled across the stack of boxes and straight to his desk, letting the door close behind him. He dropped into the seat with a pained groan and stretched his neck.

Yor did not dare move, fearing that somehow she would reveal Twilight’s presence. She watched without blinking as the scientist leaned forward to click on his desk lamp and sorted through some files until he found one that made him pause and read for several minutes. Yor slowly sat up to crane her neck over the edge of the desk where she could see the air vent just behind the scientist’s desk. Through the dark slats of the vent cover, she could barely make out the outline of Twilight’s figure. 

She swallowed, once again imaging being stuck with Twilight rotting away in prison if he was caught. Or worse, what if he was executed? Would they be ghosts together? Or would she float away, free of her only tie to the living world? She shook the thought away. Now was not the time to be fretting about hypotheticals. Even if she couldn’t help Twilight better conceal himself, she could still try to find the data he was looking for so he could get out of this terrifying place. Without a sound, Yor climbed back to her feet and resumed Twilight’s search. She started on the filing cabinets where she studied any files that were left out.

Yor couldn’t make heads or tails of the scientific graphs or charts she skimmed through, focused only on information that resembled dates or location names. Behind her, the scientist hummed something to himself and turned to his rusted typewriter to feed it a paper. He clacked away, pausing to reread something in his notes or to chew on his lip in thought. Yor kept him in the corner of her vision, ready to run if he happened to turn around and spot the shadow in his air vent.

A sudden, deafening trill made both Yor and the scientist jump. For a horrifying moment, she feared that someone had somehow discovered an intruder in the facility and had sounded the alarm. But instead the scientist only growled a few choice words and dug a ringing rotary phone out of a pile of books and folders.

“Hello?” he grumbled, gruff and irritated.

Yor inched closer to the phone, hoping to overhear something important. The person on the other end sounded angry, their voice high and aggressive. The scientist sighed loudly.

“I know I’m late, I’m so sorry, I just–yes, I’m late, I’m sorry–” he was interrupted by an outburst which caused him to yank the handset away from his ear with a wince. Yor eagerly ventured even closer. Perhaps this was his superior? Something in the scientist’s annoyed glare snapped.

“I said I’m sorry!” he roared, “It’s not my fault I got called into work on our anniversary! I’m trying to finish up as fast as I can!”

Yor’s eyebrows shot up. Probably not a boss then.

She leaned away, suddenly feeling rude for overhearing such a personal argument. When she did, her gaze caught on the half-written document in his typewriter. She paused and studied it, reading over the neatly typed words carefully.

“Then push back the reservation!” the scientist shouted before smashing the handset back down. He cursed out loud and slammed a fist into his desk, causing the mountain of papers and folders on it to jump and a few to slide off. This caused him to swear again, even louder this time, and he stooped down to pick them back up.

Yor gasped.

The scientist was right next to the air vent. Mere inches from where the spy was crouched in the shadows. Yor watched, fingers curled in terror, as the scientist snatched the papers off the floor, angrily muttering to himself while he did. He drew precariously closer to the vent; all he had to do was look up and become face to face with Twilight. 

The phone trilled again and the scientist whirled around, face red and eyes bulging. He yanked the handset from the phone.

“What now?!” he all but screamed, “Just cancel the reservation at this point for all I care!”

He opened his mouth to say more, but then abruptly stopped, his face turning a different kind of red. After a moment, he muttered, “Sorry, sir, I thought…well, I thought you were someone else…Yes, sir, I’m so sorry.”

His demeanor had completely flipped. Now he stood still, head down, looking as contrite as a schoolboy receiving a lecture for bad behavior.

“I can get it to you right away, sir,” he said, “…Yes. You’re welcome, goodbye.”

The scientist set the handset back down carefully like he was returning a fallen baby bird to its nest. He robotically returned to his seat and began clacking away at the typewriter, the sound of the machine the only noise in the suddenly too-small office. A brief minute later, the scientist arose, ripped the paper off the typewriter, and exited the room, his footsteps clipped and hurried. As soon as his footfalls faded down the hallway, Twilight burst from the vent, sweat trickling down his artificially wrinkled face.

“That was close!” Yor exclaimed.

“Too close,” Twilight murmured as he stood up, “He’ll be back soon and I don’t know if I’ll be as lucky a second time. I need to go.”

Before Yor could reply, Twilight swept through the office and down the hallway in the opposite direction the scientists had gone. She kept ahead a few paces, looking around corners before Twilight turned, making sure that the coast was clear. It was totally nerve wracking. She expected to turn around and find Twilight being clasped in handcuffs, hauled away in the back of an armored van. But no, he was there every time she looked back, calm and unruffled like he did this every day.

Well, Yor supposed he did do this every day.

She was all too relieved to be back under the dark, open sky when Twilight peeled away from the facility. He’d even taken the time to open the car door for her, as if he wasn’t under immense pressure to get out before they caught him. It was truly admirable how unflappable Twilight was. Granted, she’d only known him for–how long was it now?–a few weeks, but she’d literally been by his side every second of every day. She had yet to see him truly off-balanced; not even the revelation that he was being haunted by a ghost was enough to cause him to falter in his endless confidence. Yor simply had no choice but to respect him. She had been many things in life, but confident was not always one of them.

“Were you able to get everything you needed?” she asked, “Besides the test date and location, I mean.”

He nodded. By now, he’d removed his disguise and looked like himself again. The rubber mask lay like a shed lizard’s skin in the back seat. “Everything else, yes. We’ll have to make do without the extra data.”

Yor thought over the events of that evening, the mess of that little office, and the frantic words of the scientist. She’d looked over his shoulder while he worked and read the report on his typewriter.

“I think I know when and where the test drops will be,” she said uncertainly. He raised an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Really. I saw him writing some sort of report on his typewriter which mentioned something about experiments and test explosions.”

Twilight drummed his fingers on the wheel of the car. “Is that so? What did it say?”

After a bit of hesitation and remembering, Yor recited the information she’d read off the scientist’s report. When she was done, she looked at Twilight, awaiting his reaction. She expected–hoped–that he would be pleased with her. After all, she had done him a great service and contributed to his mission, whatever it was. Instead, he stared straight ahead at the dark road without responding for a long while, merely nodding so she knew he’d heard her. Yor fidgeted. Maybe she’d overstepped somehow? Or maybe he was upset with her for some reason?

Twilight parked the car in the alley beside the photobooth and descended into the WISE headquarters. The booth was rather cramped, even with one person, but Twilight had gotten into the habit of sitting as far in as he could manage so Yor could slide in after him. The entire way down, he would intently study his shoes or admire the fabric of the privacy shade, anything that would let him avoid looking at Yor. They did so now in silence which only multiplied the underlying awkwardness. She wanted to say something, but couldn’t form the right words. She hoped it wouldn’t always be this uncomfortable between them. 

Then again, she also hoped this situation wouldn’t last long at all.

When Twilight entered his handler’s office, he held the door open just long enough for Yor to slip inside. His handler spoke up before he could even give a report.

“We’ve got an update on the assassin,” she said. 

Twilight took a seat on the couch by her desk with a tired sigh. “And?”

“And we have a name for her now. Yor Briar.”

At the sound of her name, Yor perked up. How had they gotten her name? She wasn’t even sure if Garden had any sort of paperwork or physical ties WISE could have tracked. Spies truly were a different kind of creature. She noticed Twilight had gone completely still on the couch. His handler continued speaking, but it looked like it all went through the spy’s ear and out the other.

“She worked at city hall during the day but moonlighted as an assassin, it appears. No parents and a younger brother with an impressive academic record and promising career at the embassy. Totally normal if you didn’t know better.”

Yor shifted uncomfortably where she was standing in the corner of the room. She didn’t like listening to someone list facts about her like a medical diagnosis. Twilight still appeared shocked, but was beginning to recover. He nodded.

“I see. Have her ties to Garden been confirmed?” he asked.

“Not yet. We’re still working on it. I’ll have a more concrete report for you in a few days, I just wanted to keep you updated. It’s so difficult to find any data on such an ordinary person, but we’ll find something.” She waved her hand. “But enough of that for now. Tell me what you found tonight.”

Twilight cleared his throat and dove into recounting the mission. Yor found herself drifting out of attention and took to wandering around the office, as she often did during Twilight’s lengthy meetings. But her mind kept returning to what the handler had said about her. She had described Yor like she was a background character in a novel, one whose relevance ended as soon as the page was turned. Yor had never held a particularly high opinion of herself, but it was disconcerting to have one’s life described in such a dismissive fashion. It made her feel insignificant.

“I was also able to get a hold of the date and location of the test drops,” Twilight was saying. Yor looked back up. “I’ll include them in my official report.”

“Excellently done,” his handler said, although she didn’t sound particularly congratulatory, “I expect to see that report on my desk tomorrow morning.”

“Of course.”

With that, he was dismissed. Yor followed Twilight back through WISE headquarters where he set the keys to the car on a hook by several other hanging sets. They would be walking back to the safehouse, Yor determined. She didn’t mind, she never became fatigued, but Twilight looked tired. Back on the surface, he walked through the dark streets of Berlint much more slowly than his typical quick pace. Yor glanced up and down the sidewalk, but found no one else in the glow of the street lamps.

“You told her the intel I gave you,” Yor said.

“I did,” he said plainly.

“Then why…” She hesitated. “Why did you seem displeased when I told you earlier what I read?”

Twilight’s stride did not stutter, but Yor saw his jaw flex. He appeared deep in thought, although he always appeared that way.

“I didn’t believe you,” he said at last. Yor gaped.

“D–Didn’t believe me?” she sputtered, “What in the world would I gain from lying to you?”

His jaw worked a few more times. “Perhaps that was the wrong way to put it,” he said. “It’s that I didn’t believe in you.”

“What do you mean?”

Twilight took several more strides forward before he slowed to a halt. He stared at Yor with such intensity that she suddenly felt self-conscious. The night had turned his blue eyes a dark gray.

“I didn’t read that document,” he said, “So I couldn’t have known what it said.”

“Yes, I’m the one who read it,” Yor said impatiently.

“But I didn’t,” Twilight insisted, “You must understand that all this time I wasn’t sure if you were real. I couldn’t be sure if you were simply something my mind was making up, that if you gave me information, it wouldn’t be a product of my own delusions.”

He suddenly looked pained.

“But then Handler told me your name and it lines up with everything you’ve told me so far. I cannot deny it any further; you, Yor Briar, are really dead and you truly are haunting me.”

Realization dawned on Yor. Twilight had been careful to keep her at arm’s length, to not engage in discussion with her unless it was to gather information. He hardly did more to affirm her existence than keeping doors open a fraction longer or keeping the radio turned on at all hours. He hadn’t trusted her to be real. Anger churned in Yor’s stomach. She turned away, fists shaking.

“It’s been easy for you to dismiss me as just an illusion," she said shakily, “But I don’t have that luxury. I’m reminded every second that I’m dead.”

She felt it beyond the numbness of not being able to feel the cool wind that pulled on the turned collar of Twilight’s coat. She felt it every time she was tugged along by Twilight’s presence when she wanted to stop and admire the flowers in the florist’s window. When she smiled at strangers and they stared straight through her. When she lay beside the radio all night, pretending that the talk show hosts were speaking directly to her just so she would feel just a little less lonely.

“Perhaps I’ve been…unfair to you,” Twilight murmured, his voice gentle, “I didn’t consider your feelings in the matter. I apologize for that.”

His words were a cup of water thrown on a house fire. Anger didn’t come naturally to her, yet it raged with such intensity that it made her dizzy. Yor squeezed her eyes closed.

“At least you believe in me now.” 

She turned back around and resumed walking into the darkness.

Chapter Text

It was difficult to sulk when you couldn’t venture farther than twenty feet from the person you wanted to sulk away from. Yor valiantly tried anyway.

Once in the safehouse, she tucked herself away by the couch in the living room, sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up to her chest. She attempted with all her might to ignore Twilight moving about the apartment and focus on the sound of the radio cranking out a talk show she liked. He usually worked long into the night at the kitchen table, but tonight he retired early in his room. The light spilling from underneath his door revealed he truly did stay up as late as he usually did and that he was avoiding her. Or giving her space. Yor couldn’t tell.

This avoidance carried on into the next day. It wasn’t like they engaged in much small talk, but Twilight gave her only a polite nod when he emerged from his room in the morning. He went about his usual routines of clacking away at his typewriter, stopping by WISE headquarters, and tailing people of interest. By midday, Yor’s anger had reduced to a simmer and she resumed her bored routine of studying passerby. There was the small mercy that Twilight now fully held doors open for her and therefore she didn’t have to frantically slip in after him. She supposed it was his way of offering an olive branch. She accepted it, if not with a little irritation.

To Yor’s surprise, Twilight made a detour to the Berlint library that evening when he usually would have returned to the safehouse. She waited until he was far into the aisles away from prying ears who might overhear a strange man murmuring to herself to ask, “What are you here for?”

“Researching,” Twilight whispered back, “The paranormal, specifically. I must admit I’m not well-versed on the subject.”

Of course he had waited until he could confirm Yor was real before actually attempting to hold up his end of the bargain. She held her tongue.

They arrived back at the safehouse with a tall stack of books teetering in Twilight’s hands. He parked himself at the kitchen table and, for the next several hours, flipped through them with such speed that Yor wondered if he truly was comprehending what he was reading. Just before midnight, with two drained coffee mugs and more than a few cigarette butts before him, Twilight closed the last of his books. From the living room, Yor watched him sit completely still for several minutes, staring at nothing in particular while he thought. Then, with a sudden, unfounded burst of energy, he abruptly stood, scooped up his typewriter and several sheets of paper, and strode to the couch opposite of Yor. He sat down, typewriter on his lap, and cleared his throat.

“I’ve discovered that current research on ghosts and the afterlife is lacking,” he said matter-of-factly. Yor deflated a bit.

“Really?”

“Unfortunately, yes. So I’ll need to conduct my own research.” He cleared his throat. “Specifically on you.”

Yor’s eyes widened. “Me?”

Twilight gestured to the empty apartment. “I have no one else.”

Yor suddenly felt foolish for being so confused. Twilight fed a fresh sheet of paper to the typewriter and looked at her expectantly. She sat up at attention, but squirmed a bit once she realized the scene made them look like a psychiatrist and his troubled patient. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to get a sense of the basics,” Twilight began, “Tell me your full name, age, and occupation.”

“Yor Briar, twenty-seven, I, er, worked at city hall but also at Garden…” Yor said uncertainly. She’d told him all of this at some point, but he typed as she wrote, fingers flying across the keytop.

“And how long did you work at city hall?”

This line of questioning continued on for several minutes as she recounted mundane details of her life; what she did as a clerk, how long she’d been an assassin, and where she’d grown up. It felt like she was being interviewed for her biography.

“You said you were recruited when you were fourteen, Ms. Briar, correct? Did you hold any other occupations before that?” Twilight asked. He leaned forward intently, anticipating her answer. Yor felt incredibly uncomfortable with such intense attention placed upon her.

“Y–Yes, I used to run errands for some of the shops in town. And you don’t have to call me Ms. Briar, Yor is fine, you know,” she stammered, “What does this all have to do with me being dead?”

Twilight spoke while he typed. “There is something that turned you into a ghost. A condition or contributing factor that made you an outlier, that made you the one person, as far as I or my research knows, to remain, incorporeal or not, in this state of existence even after death. I must find that contributing factor, isolate it, and study it to determine how to reverse its effects. As such, I need to know as much about you as I possibly can.”

“E–Everything?” Yor squeaked.

“Everything,” Twilight confirmed, “We must treat every aspect of your life as the determinant to your situation until disproven.”

To be quite honest, Yor did not want to divulge every detail of her life to Twilight, mostly due to embarrassment. “Then w–why don’t we try to understand my, uh, condition first? Then maybe we could work backwards from there?”

Twilight considered this a moment, fingers frozen over the keys. He tilted his head slightly, bird-like and rather endearing, Yor decided, as he thought.

“Alright,” he said and ripped out the paper from the typewriter to feed it a new one, “How would you describe your current state?”

“Uh…” Yor wasn’t sure where to start. She looked down at her hands. “Invisible?”

Twilight nodded as he typed, urging her to continue.

“You’re the only person who can see me so far. Either that or everyone else is just ignoring me,” she said with a nervous laugh, “Although that wasn’t always the case. For a while, not even you could see me.”

“For how long?”

“Er, a day or two, I suppose? I first remember seeing you, um…” Yor slapped her hands over her face, wishing she could disappear completely, “I saw you in the bathroom, first—not like that! I, uh, saw you w–without your shirt cleaning up your shoulder wound. That’s all!” she added, although that didn’t feel much better, “I didn’t know what was going on! It’s like I woke up and I could see you!”

Twilight coughed and she swore his ears flushed pink when she peeked between her fingers. He resumed typing slowly, like he was unsure of what to say.

“And then?” he ventured.

“Oh, uh, then it was like I fell asleep. And when I came to again, I was in your room and you were sleeping. I, um, I tried to k–kill you, but it was like I couldn’t touch you.”

He sat up straighter. “I remember that night. I woke up because I felt a sudden chill. I thought it had something to do with my shoulder.”

Yor sat up straight as well. “Could you feel me touching you?”

“That might’ve been it. We could test it out right now,” Twilight suggested and then quickly added, “Unless you feel uncomfortable with that, of course.”

“N–Not at all.”

That being said, the living room was thick with an undeniably awkward air as Twilight rolled up the sleeve to his dress shirt. Yor had never come in close quarters with a man—except for Yuri, which didn’t really count—in a context that didn’t include lethal intent. Twilight presented his forearm with total and complete professionalism like he couldn’t perceive her hesitation.

She gently laid her palm just above his wrist and wrapped her fingers around his arm like he would shatter under the faintest bit of pressure. As she had come to expect, she didn’t register the warmth of his skin, the soft covering of hair under her fingers. Twilight, on the other hand, tensed every so slightly as she touched him and a wave of goosebumps spread across his arm.

“It’s cold,” he noted with some marvel in his voice, “It’s faint, but my skin feels cold there.”

When Yor released her grip, she noticed the bumps on his arm slowly faded away.

“We can experiment some more if you’d like,” she said, “But you’re the only person that happens to.”

Twilight held up his arm and inspected it.

“Is that so?” he murmured. Yor grinned, nervous, uneven.

“Perhaps I’m not the only special one,” she said, “Maybe you have a certain condition that allows you to perceive me.”

Twilight met her gaze with his own small smile. 

“Maybe you’re right.”

Twilight retired to his room soon after that. The hour was late and, unlike Yor, he needed to sleep. In the living room, Yor lay on the couch, going about her usual routine of listening to the radio. For much of the night, she stared at her hand, the one that had touched Twilight. She replayed seeing the goosebumps had spread across his skin over and over in her mind. She smiled.

After so long, it had been good to experience the ability to influence the world around her. For just a moment, she had felt a little more human. Yor closed her eyes and listened to the radio host roar with laughter at something his guest had said. 

Of course, it would’ve been nice to feel the warmth of Twilight’s skin. But she could only ask for so much.

***

Their nightly chats became a habit. During the day, Yor would follow Twilight through his errands and missions, secretly looking forward to when he would join her in the living room, typewriter in hand. Sure, the daytime missions kept her busy. Sometimes they were even entertaining. For one mission, Twilight infiltrated a dog show and Yor spent two glorious days fawning over dogs of all shapes and sizes. Another mission required Twilight to pretend to be a bar singer for a night and Yor discovered, despite his many abilities, he was actually a rather bad singer. She bit her tongue trying not to laugh while he dodged food and plates thrown his way.

“If Handler had given me just one more day's notice, I would’ve sounded much better,” he said while scrubbing tomato juice out of his jacket once they returned to the safehouse. Yor sat beside him on the kitchen counter, swinging her feet with amusement.

“Couldn’t you have played an instrument instead?” she asked while trying not to laugh.

“No, it had to be singing, regardless of quality,” he grumbled. To her delight, his ears turned pink again. “I don’t appreciate being made to look like a fool.”

But it was the night time discussions that Yor liked the most. She was free to talk without fear of anyone overhearing Twilight’s reply. It made her forget, however briefly, that she was dead. She began trying to sneak in more moments where she could converse with him, in the car, alone on stakeouts, or in crowds where no one would notice a man muttering to himself. It was difficult to feel greedy for trying to take up so much of his time; it wasn’t like she had anyone else to talk to.

Besides, Twilight, she realized, lived a very lonely life.

He spoke only with targets, his handler, and coworkers. He also frequented the cigarette stand and chatted with the clerk, a man named Franky, although the relationship between them seemed less like friends and more like dog and owner. Case in point, after Twilight and Yor’s first nightly discussion, he instructed her to touch Franky’s hand to see if he complained of the cold the next time they saw him. She did, albeit while feeling guilty the entire time. Twilight showed no remorse. As for the test, Franky made no mention of being afflicted. Twilight told her to repeat the experiment several more times until Yor wondered if he was just hoping to mess with the poor clerk.

Aside from that, Twilight, she discovered, was the epitome of living for his job. He had no hobbies from what she could tell and the only things he seemed to do for himself was eat—his diet consisted of deli-bought meals, canned food, an unhealthy amount of black coffee, and cigarettes—and sleep, if he did at all.

“Aren’t you tired?” she asked one night when he came to sit down on the couch with his typewriter. She greatly enjoyed this time, yes, but it wouldn’t do for him to fall asleep in the middle of his next mission.

“Of course I am,” Twilight replied. He looked like it. His eyes struggled to stay open between blinks like he was trying to take rapid, miniscule naps with each one. “But my research is imperative if I’m to understand your condition.”

“But you should really take care of yourself,” Yor insisted, “You only slept for a couple hours last night. And I don’t think you slept at all the night before!”

Twilight waved his hand. “It’s fine, I’ve been trained to function on minimal sleep. This is nothing new.”

“It’s still not good. It’ll be fine if you skip tonight to sleep for once.”

It was like arguing with a brick wall and it wasn’t like Yor could strongarm him to get her way. So that night she kept her answers short and vague, much to Twilight’s annoyance. Finally, he got the message and reluctantly slunk off to bed. Of course, he was snoring within minutes.

After that, she began to help Twilight on his missions. She expected to be met with resistance by Twilight, but, after some convincing, he began to rely on her assistance. It started off with small things. Keeping watch for guards when he snuck around. An extra set of eyes while out on stakeouts. Then it turned into her slipping into offices while he chatted with the targets or scouting ahead into enemy bases to count combatants.

Yor enjoyed the missions where she helped Twilight nearly as much as she enjoyed the discussions. It was exhilarating. Fun, even. It made her nonexistent heart pound with excitement to run alongside Twilight as they dodged gunfire or to sneak around guards. She often laid awake at night wondering if what she was doing was treason, but it didn’t feel like treason. While working with Twilight, she saw the parts of the ugly underbelly of Ostania she had never seen as an assassin. WISE, she discovered, was its own kind of Garden; pruning and reshaping Ostania and Westalis alike towards peace. And besides, she figured, Shopkeeper wasn’t here to punish her. Yor had lived her whole life following the rules as best she could; being a little rebellious made her feel a little more alive.

***

Handler had given Twilight the assignment of tailing a known member of an Ostanian extremist group. From what Yor overheard, this was an incredibly secretive organization and gathering information would take possibly weeks of observation. Tailing the man, however, was easy if not uneventful. Twilight and Yor had become well-acquainted with the vehicle that WISE had loaned out for this mission; a little blue van sporting a logo on its side for a plumbing business that did not exist. The back was converted into a surveillance mini center complete with binoculars, disguises, and other equipment, but they spent the bulk of their time perched on the front seats watching for their target.

It started out tediously, as all of Twilight’s stakeouts did. Another one of the great mysteries of Twilight was how he managed to remain still for hours on end. But, much to Yor’s surprise, after the sun went down and while they waited parked outside the target’s apartment, he pulled out a notebook and pen. When he turned to her, she recognized the focused look in his eyes.

“Right now?” Yor asked incredulously, “While you’re on a stakeout?”

“Adaptability is a key trait for any spy to have, Ms. Briar,” Twilight said, “And our target is unlikely to emerge from his apartment until dawn. I can keep an eye out during our discussion.”

He had a point. They would be here all night watching the apartment’s exits. Still, she said, “Then why don’t you sleep and I take watch?”

“Because you’re not a trained agent and I am.”

“Is it not just…waiting for him to walk out of the building?”

“He could also leave via the fire escape.”

“I have a clear view of the fire escape.”

“That’s beside the point,” Twilight insisted, “I’m the agent, not you.”

Yor frowned, although her expression was not unkind. “I’m not the agent, but I was the one who read the security codes off that secretary’s desk while you chatted with her. Or when you needed me to check if there were guards patrolling at that gang warehouse last week.” Twilight scowled but Yor continued. “This is no different. You look exhausted. You always look exhausted. Please let me help you.”

He looked away and his fingers curled around his notebook. For a brief moment he looked like a schoolboy who had been told he wasn’t allowed to eat cookies before dinner. He reminded Yor so much of Yuri when he was younger that she almost laughed.

“Let me ask just a few questions first,” Twilight finally muttered, “Then we’ll see how I feel.”

Yor let herself laugh this time. He could be so ridiculous sometimes. “Alright, fine.”

“Excellent.” He sat up straight again, back in business, and cracked open his notebook. “We last were discussing your life soon after you moved to Berlint.”

“Right.”

“Now, how would you describe your commute to work to city hall at the time?”

“It was about a two minute walk to the nearest tram station from my apartment. Then a fifteen minute ride to city hall. I remember I always saw an elderly woman waiting at my stop…”

They were methodically working through sections of her life as she recounted as many details as she possibly could. It all felt a bit fruitless to Yor. Twilight was so insistent on every detail; even down to what she ate for breakfast or how she tied her shoelaces at every specific time period of her life. He kept at it anyway, disregarding how pointless it all felt.

“I–I still think you’re greatly overestimating how interesting my life was. I’m very boring,” Yor added after she’d described in great detail what the Berlint tram system was like five years ago. Twilight continued to scribble in his notebook.

“Well, for one, my goal with these discussions isn’t entertainment, it’s empirical research.” His pen slowed on the page and he looked up at her with a small, reassuring smile. “Regardless, I’m not bored by you.”

Yor threw her hands up in the air exasperatedly. “How could you not be? Even being an assassin can be repetitive. A–And it’s not like I did much outside of Garden. All I did was take care of Yuri,” She sank back into her seat and allowed herself to slide down a bit. Her heart was aching like it always did when she thought about Yuri. “He was my life for so long; everything I did was for him. And now that I’m no longer in his life, I feel like there’s nothing left of me.”

Yuri was a man now, but leaving him alone in the world felt like abandoning a baby in a forest. They had grown more distant ever since he moved out and got a job, but he still called every week and they met up for dinner once a month. Every night, Yor lay wondering if he was sleeping well, if he had enough to eat, or if he was overworking himself again. When she allowed herself to think about Yuri, she was eaten alive by an awful combination of fear and longing.

“Would it make you feel better if you saw him?” Twilight gently suggested, “It might give you closure?”

She wrapped her arms tight around her torso and hugged herself as a third emotion, one she had tried in vain to suppress, crept to the surface.

“I’m scared of seeing him again,” she murmured guiltily, “I don’t know what would be worse; seeing him devastated that I’m gone or seeing that he’s moved on without me. And either way, I’ll have to say goodbye one last time. I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that. Does that make me a bad person? That I’ve avoided him all this time?”

Twilight pushed his eyebrows together in thought, forming a small divot on his forehead that always appeared when he was concentrating. He idly tapped his pen against his notebook.

“I think that goodbyes are hard and the more you love someone, the more difficult they become,” he said matter of factly, “And I think being scared of something painful doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“You really think so?” she asked glumly.

“I truly do.”

She rolled her head back until it hit the van window and she looked into the dark sky past the glowing streetlamps.

“Even if you’re right, I’m still scared.”

“Then we can wait a while before we do it.”

Yor almost agreed; she really didn’t want to see what remained of her brother and was ready to prolong it as long as possible. But instead she shook her head.

“Time is not always guaranteed,” she said, “Could we go tomorrow?”

“Are you sure?” he asked. She laughed humorlessly.

“No, but I’ve learned there is not always time to do what you truly want.”

To this, Twilight hummed and nodded. “That is true,” he murmured in agreement.

A thick, contemplative silence filled the van. Neither of them seemed particularly eager to continue their discussion about Yor’s life, especially when speaking about Yuri would only fill her with more dread. Yor pulled her legs to her chest and rested her head on her knees away from Twilight. She felt like she was fourteen again; staying up late in the kitchen of their small cottage their parents left them, staring at the bills gone unpaid on the table and worrying about feeding Yuri. Even in death she would never stop worrying about him.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” Twilight asked gently.

No, there was nothing Twilight could do. He had never held his baby brother in his arms while he languished with fever, never had to watch him grow thin with malnutrition. Yor sighed. She was so tired of worrying and worrying.

“I can think of one thing I want you to do,” she said, “Something you can do right now.”

Twilight sat up straight like a dog called to attention. “What is it?”

“You could sleep while I take watch.” Yor observed with some amusement as his enthusiasm instantly deflated.

“Ms. Briar…”

“Sleep is important! And you never get enough!” she insisted, “I wish I could sleep, that I could forget all about my worries just for a little while! You’re alive, so take advantage of it!”

Twilight scowled but he didn’t protest. Instead he warily eyed the apartment in front of them and then the back of the van. There was indeed a small emergency blanket folded on one of the shelves precisely for these situations.

“You must wake me up if you see the target leave the apartment, actually, no, if anyone leaves the apartment,” he instructed, “I want to check them myself.”

“Right.”

“Also if any vehicles pass by more than once or parks near the apartment. Or if anyone goes inside.”

“I know.”

Although he still seemed skeptical, he relented. “Do you want me to turn on the radio?”

“Yes, please.”

With the radio turned as low as it would go, Twilight climbed into the back of the van. He hesitantly laid down, huddled in the felt emergency blanket. It took several minutes of tossing and turning until she finally heard his quiet snores. With an eye on the apartment, she watched him through the rearview mirror.

She didn’t really mean to. It just happened.

Yor had yet to actually study Twilight’s face because it was rude. Now she stared unabashedly at his slack form. He was curled up on his side like he was bracing for something, his arms loosely folded beneath the blanket. His cheek was buried into the cramped bench and his eyes fluttered beneath their lids with REM. Despite how uncomfortable the position likely was, it was the most relaxed Yor had ever seen Twilight. She tried to remember what it was like to be lost in the soothing void of sleep, but she had somehow forgotten it. So she watched Twilight with quiet envy and chuckled when he muttered something incoherent under his breath.

Perhaps out of everyone she could have haunted, Twilight was not so bad after all.

***

They saw Yuri the next day. He was walking home to his apartment building, briefcase in hand, coat collar turned up in the wind.

He looked awful.

The first thing Yor noticed was that his hair had gotten longer. She was the one who always cut it. Even from the parked car from where she watched, she could see his reddened eyes, the way he bit into his trembling lip. She wanted to run to him, hug him, apologize to him, cry with him, anything to tell him how much she loved him, how much she wished she was still there.

“Twilight,” she murmured without taking her eyes off Yuri, “I need to go to him.”

As she feared, he protested. They’d discussed before that Twilight couldn’t risk getting too close to Yuri and that it would be traumatic for her to see her brother in such a state. But now she could not resist her instincts when her brother was right there.

“Ms. Briar–”

“Twilight, please. He’s my brother.”

He sucked in a breath but unbuckled his seatbelt. As soon as he opened the car door, Yor bolted.

Before she could even exit the car, there was a shout down the street and Yuri turned around. A young woman in bobbed chestnut hair came jogging up beside him. At the sight of her his face pinched up with annoyance. She caught up to him before Yor did. They exchanged a few words Yor couldn’t hear which almost immediately escalated into shouts. They were yelling at each other and drawing attention from passersby on the street. It was so like Yuri to get worked up over the littlest things, but Yor still felt a ferocious need to protect him from this woman.

“She’s dead, Yuri!” the woman screamed, “But you’re not! So stop throwing yourself into danger like your life doesn’t matter!”

Yor froze.

The words struck Yuri like lightning. One moment, he was red-faced and shouting and the next he was doubled over, sobbing into his hands. His cries chopped away at Yor’s heart like an axe. She would’ve given anything to gather him up in her arms like she used to when he was a boy. Instead, the woman wrapped a supporting arm around his back and pulled him up. Yuri didn’t protest when she guided him up the stairs to his building, he simply sobbed into her shoulder.

Yor followed, uncaring if Twilight was near or not.

She slipped through the door after them and into Yuri’s apartment. She had been to Yuri’s apartment a handful of times, but they both preferred to meet over dinner somewhere else rather than his place because it was so small. Today, it was nearly suffocating. The walls felt like they were closing in on her. The fact that portraits of her adorned every available inch of them only made the feeling worse. Instead, she forced herself to watch the woman who was gently removing Yuri’s coat and guiding him to his couch. Yor had never seen her before. Who was she?

“Where’s your tea?” the woman asked once Yuri was seated on the couch, quilt wrapped around his shoulders.

“Cabinet above the sink,” he mumbled.

She went to the tiny kitchen and began opening and closing cabinets until she found the kettle and tea. Tea that came in boxes with an illustration of a bear on the front, the same kind Yor used to make. As the woman fumbled around the kitchen, Yor peeked in Yuri’s cabinets. Each was neatly packed with boxes and cans, just as she had organized their pantry as children.

The woman spooned a generous amount of honey into a cup of tea–a cup that Yor had given Yuri–and handed it to him. He accepted it without a word and slowly took a sip. His face cringed with disgust, just like it always did when he drank that brand, but he still drank it. Yor laughed despite herself, remembering how he used to gag when he drank the tea she made when they were younger.

“When was the last time you shaved?” the woman asked. Indeed he did have a few whiskers on his jaw. When he was a teenager, he’d been so proud when his baby mustache started coming in that Yor had to beg him to shave it off.

“Shut up,” Yuri muttered.

“I’m serious, the boss is gonna tell you to clean up,” the woman continued, “You look terrible, Yuri.”

Yuri took a long sip, eyes on the floor. “I’ll shave tomorrow.”

“Do you have clean clothes you can wear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And you have something to eat tonight?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Only if I know you won’t starve.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I still have leftovers from the dinner you guys gave me yesterday.”

“Make sure you actually eat it.”

“I will,” he snapped. Yor almost admonished him for taking up such a tone with his friend, but stopped herself.

“Just making sure.” The woman stood up, dusted her pants off, and went towards the door. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Yuri. Don’t forget you’re leading the team meeting tomorrow.”

He didn’t respond, only dismissively waved his hand, his eyes trained on the biggest portrait of Yor on the wall in front of him. The woman paused and sighed.

“I’m sorry about your sister, Yuri, I really am,” she said, “And I know that when you lose someone, it hurts for a really long time, but…” She sighed again. “It won't hurt this badly forever, okay?”

Yuri remained still for a long moment.

“I just miss her,” he whispered, his voice thick with tears.

I miss you! Yor wanted to scream, I would give anything to be here just to hug you one last time! I love you, I love you, I love you, Yuri, don’t you know that?

“That never really goes away, unfortunately,” the woman replied, “The only way forward is to endure it.”

Yuri only nodded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Will you let me know if you need anything?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

The woman began pulling on her own coat and tying her shoes. Yor had to act now, before she left and she was trapped here. She approached her brother. His cheeks glowed with tears and he stared straight ahead. She stood in front of him as if that would let him see her.

“I love you, Yuri,” she whispered, voice trembling. She knew without a doubt that he knew it, but she had to say it one more time. “I love you so much. Take care of yourself, okay? There’s…There’s so much I wish I could say to you, but please take care of yourself. I love you, Yuri. More than you could ever know.”

She kept her eyes on him, even as she returned to the front door, trying to drink in as much of her brother before she left for good. It felt wrong to leave him like this, crying and alone, but she knew now he wasn’t truly alone. He had friends to take care of him, a bed to sleep in, and food to eat. Even though she was gone, he would be okay. 

“I love you, Yuri, please remember that,” she called one final time before she slipped out behind the woman.

The door closed and he was gone.

Twilight was waiting outside the apartment, leaning over the railing with a cigarette, the very picture of a young man who stepped out of his unit for a quick smoke. Their eyes met and Yor simply nodded. She followed him back to the car. He held the door open for her. They drove to the safehouse in silence. As soon as they were back, she collapsed onto the couch and sobbed. Twilight sat beside her without a word. Neither of them said a single thing.

***

Twilight was different after that day, as was Yor.

He was chattier, as chatty as Twilight could be. He filled the usual silence of car rides or cigarette breaks with little comments and stories. He didn’t seem to mind looking like the strange man talking to himself while he ate his lunch at a park bench. Yor suspected that he was trying to keep her mind off Yuri. She appreciated it, although it was unnecessary.

Seeing Yuri had been difficult, just as Twilight had warned, but she was content now.

Kind of.

A little.

She had hoped that would be it. She knew that he was going to be alright, that even though her life was over, his would continue. He had been everything to her and now everything was right.

Except it wasn’t. There was still something that felt unsatisfied deep within her, a presence that insisted she was missing a critical something. She spent the nights after Twilight had gone to sleep staring at the ceiling, trying to decipher what this strange emotion was.

“I wish I could feel,” she said absently one night. A wave of longing crashed into her nonexistent chest. “I wish more than anything I could feel again. Even if only for a day.”

Twilight tapped his fingers against the typewriter, not pressing the keys, just moving his hand without thought. He was seated on the floor with his back reclined against the sofa, typewriter on his lap. “What do you miss feeling the most?”

Yor was lying down beside him, one arm raised to the ceiling as she inspected her outstretched nails. She’d accidentally chipped the red paint on her right ring finger that night. A small shard of peach against the rest of the intact red nails. She dropped her hand where it fell onto her stomach without a sound.

“I don’t even know where to begin. It’s more of a question of what I don’t miss.”

Twilight set the typewriter aside and leaned forward, his chin on his palm. “Alright then. What do you not miss feeling?”

Yor hummed in thought. “I’d say something like pain, I suppose, like getting shot or stabbed.” She rolled on her side to face him. “But if I could feel that again, I think I’d still cry from joy, you know? Because then it’d be something. If I could suddenly feel things again, then I don’t think I’d ever want to stop feeling. I’d wear itchy sweaters and heavy jewelry and I’d put pebbles in my shoes. I’d trail my hand along every wall wherever I’d walked, I’d touch tree bark and rusted iron and dusty shelves. I’d oversalt and overseason my food. I’d never complain about it being too hot or too cold or too muggy or too dry ever again. I’d never carry an umbrella just so I could feel the rain if it ever came.”

“Your senses would never know peace,” Twilight muttered, mirth tainting his voice. Yor met his gaze.

“Yes, but I would be alive,” she said, “and that would make it all worth it.”

It was Twilight’s turn to hum. A contemplative silence fell upon the living room. It was late, far past midnight. The safehouse was lit by yellowed bulbs that turned everything a little orange. Without a word, Twilight rose to his feet and walked towards the window. He unlatched the lock and flung it open to reveal a small balconette that looked over the street below.

“What’re you doing?” Yor asked from her place on the floor.

“Making it all worth it, it would seem,” Twilight said, a hand outstretched into the night. Yor arched an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“The forecast said it was supposed to rain tonight. You’re in luck.”

Twilight hefted himself onto the balconette railing, facing the living room. Small patters fell against the roof, onto the window, then Twilight’s shoulders, leaving small circles of water on the fabric of his shirt. The rain wasn’t hard—it’d been misting all afternoon and evening—but now it fell with a steady cadence. Yor rolled to her feet and joined Twilight at the window.

“What does it feel like?” she asked. 

Twilight looked up to the dark sky.

“The rain? Wet,” he replied humorlessly.

He caught Yor’s disapproving frown and gave her a small smile.

“It feels light when it falls on my hair. But when it slides down my scalp and neck, it feels much heavier and colder, like a marble rolling down my skin. Or a small snail made of cool glass inching a trail of water across my body.”

Yor crinkled her nose but smiled. “Ew.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “You asked.”

She held out her hand and watched as the raindrops fell through her fingers. She murmured, “What else does it feel like?”

Twilight took in a deep breath of air, like he wanted to drink in the night. With some envy, Yor watched him while he did. His chest expanded beneath his shirt, his skin dotted with goosebumps, and a stray raindrop hung precariously on one long blonde strand until it fell onto his forehead and slid down his cheek like a tear. 

“It feels like when it rained when I was a boy and I would pick up earthworms as they wriggled up from the mud. I’d feel them cold and slippery in my hands. My friends always dared me to eat one. Once, I did. I popped one in my mouth and felt it squirming against my tongue until I spat it out. It didn’t taste like much, just earthy and slightly sour.”

“That’s so gross,” Yor laughed.

“It’s what I think of when I feel the rain,” he replied honestly and he closed his eyes for a moment. “When I was a soldier, my platoon got caught in a raid one night,” he said quietly, “The watch didn’t catch the enemy in time because of the heavy rain. It was slaughter. Soldiers fell one by one all around me. I had to crawl through knee-high mud surrounded by my comrades as they bled out. When I finally made it to safety, I was covered in muck, blood, and gunpowder. It felt like I would never be able to wash it off. It was under my nails, in my hair, in my mouth, my eyes, between my toes. I thought I’d never be clean or warm ever again.”

He took another deep, greedy gulp of air.

“The rain feels like that sometimes, too.” He looked down at his hands. They were cupped, catching a tiny pool of rainwater. Then he looked back to Yor. “But I am alive. And it was worth it. I hope, anyway.”

Yor said nothing, merely nodded. She had no way of understanding what being a soldier felt like, just as he had no way to understand what it was like to be dead. They basked in that mutual comprehension for a long minute, accompanied by the sound of rain and distant traffic.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I ever apologized,” Twilight said gently, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Yor drearily laid her head against the railing and let one arm dangle off the ledge. The metal was probably cold in the rain.

“What for?” she asked. She heard him swallow.

“For killing you.”

And although Yor could feel no pain, she hurt terribly all over again. Sometimes she was lucky enough to forget it, but she was dead. She’d mourned death before but there was something so unnatural and unforgiving like mourning oneself. Even though every single part of her fought to ignore this crucial fact, it was a constant presence looming over her heart. Her body was somewhere rotting in the ground right now. Her apartment was probably cleared out and held a new occupant. City hall hired someone to take her place. Garden was undoubtedly training a replacement at that very moment. And Yuri; he was mourning her right now and would mourn her for a very long time. A part of him would never return to how it once was. But one day he would still find peace in her passing and his life would resume. The world would pick up where it left off. It had never truly stopped.

And she was stuck here, in an existence where she felt nothing. Was nothing.

Yor could cry. She had cried. She’d cried for days and weeks dwelling on this very fact. So, although this information tore at her soul, she merely closed her eyes. She was so very tired of the inherent sadness of death. 

“Thank you for apologizing,” was all she said, eyes still closed. She could hear Twilight’s active mind race for the right thing to say.

“Y–You’ve just seemed a bit down recently,” he said earnestly. Yor couldn’t stop the silent chuckle that escaped her lips. She’d never heard him stutter unintentionally. “I thought maybe seeing your brother would be what you needed to find peace, but it seems like there’s still something else.”

“That’s true. I do feel like there’s something else missing,” Yor agreed. She heard Twilight shift and settle beside her on the railing.

“Was there anything else left unfinished in your life?” he asked gently. She opened one eye and peered at him.

“No, everything in my life revolved around Yuri.”

He was looking right at her. “Maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s the problem.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Yuri,” he said. When she scowled, he quickly continued, “I don’t mean Yuri was the root of all your problems, I mean that in all of our discussions I’ve noticed that you did everything for Yuri. You were always living for someone else but never yourself.”

“Well, I…I was just doing what needed to be done,” she muttered.

“And that’s noble of you. But it isn’t your fault if you feel dissatisfied spending your whole life giving and never taking.”

“I–I suppose you’re not wrong, but I just feel selfish for even thinking something like that,” she groaned.

But deep down she knew he was right. The day Yuri moved out to go to school was one of the hardest days of Yor’s life. She remembered watching the train leave the station and standing on the platform feeling so hollow. She couldn’t have been prouder of him, but ever since that day the world had felt a little less saturated. She threw herself into work to ignore the feeling, so much so that the girls at city hall called her robotic behind her back.

“Have I wasted my life, Twilight?” she asked.

“Not at all, raising your brother is an impressive feat.”

Yor threw her hands up in the air exasperatedly. “But surely there was more that I could have done!” She flopped over the balconette ledge. “Looking back on my life now, I wonder if I wasted it all. Maybe I…” She bit her lip. “Maybe I should’ve done more.”

“You did eliminate countless criminals.”

“That’s not what I meant, I mean…Oh I don’t know!” She swung her hands frustratedly “Like…! Like crashing a wedding and kissing a stranger or driving all night to watch the sunrise! O–Or going to the beach and sleeping on the sand. …Little things like that; the things that people laugh and talk about with their friends when they’re old and gray.”

She didn’t want to see Twilight’s face. Instead, stared into the street where a lone biker pedaled by, hunched forward in the rain.

“I love Yuri more than anything in this world,” she murmured, “But it’s only now that I realize I loved nothing else. I didn’t have time.”

Yor could only wonder how this all sounded to Twilight. She could only imagine all of the adventures he’d had as a spy, how much he had accomplished. Compared to him, she felt pathetic. Like she somehow wasn’t worthy enough to talk to him about this. She hadn’t realized there were so many things she wanted to do when she assumed she had time left. If tomorrow she were suddenly alive again, she would be greedy, greedier than she had ever dared to imagine. She would take and take and take because now she realized what it was like to have truly nothing. But, no, she was still here. With nothing.

Twilight’s voice cut through her spiral of despair. “I must admit I feel a bit envious of you.”

That caused her to finally turn to him. However, he did not match her gaze, instead he fondly gazed back into the living room where his typewriter lay in a nest of papers.

“Living for something to love is far more preferable than without. I don’t have anything like that. I can hardly remember a time that I did.” He sighed a heavy sigh. “Although me saying that doesn’t fix your problem, nor does it make you feel any better, I imagine.”

“Well it…it makes me feel a little better,” Yor mumbled, “I’m glad to know my life wasn’t a waste.”

“No life is a waste.”

She scoffed. “You’re telling me that if you could go back you wouldn’t change a single thing?”

Twilight shook his head. “That’s not what I said, if I could go back, there are so many things I would’ve done differently–there’s so many things that I could spend all night counting them all off. That’s exactly why I can’t.” He tightened his fists. “It’s pointless to dwell on past mistakes because it can consume you. All you can do is move forward.”

“Easy for you to say.” If she could, Yor would’ve burst into tears. “You’re still alive. You have the rest of your life to live. I don’t.”

Twilight fell quiet for a very long time. Yor had to wonder if he’d forgotten this fact somehow, that she was dead and he was not. She’d noticed that he had a tendency to get carried away in small details sometimes that he temporarily forgot the bigger picture. 

“You’re dead, but you’re not gone yet,” he said softly. “I could…”

Yor slowly raised an eyebrow.

“I could help you. Not just with this ghost business,” he cleared his throat, “but also with fulfilling your wishes. Enrich what remains of your life, if you would.”

“You’d crash a wedding for me? Go to the ocean?” she asked jokingly.

“If that’s what you’d like,” he replied very seriously.

“Really?

“Of course. Just name what you’d want and I’ll do it.”

“Anything?”

“Yes. Within reason.”

Yor placed a finger to her chin as she thought. She’d merely said the first things that had come to her mind as an example, but now it was as if she’d never desired anything in her entire life. What made someone feel whole? Completed? Fulfilled? Her mind drew a blank.

“I have no idea,” she confessed.

Twilight thought some more. “I might have some ideas,” he murmured.

“Like what?”

“Give me some time.” He stretched and yawned. “It’s late and I’m cold and tired. And Late Night Berlint will be on in a few minutes.”

“I’ll be fine if I miss my show for once,” she muttered.

“But I won’t be if I don’t get enough sleep, as you’re so insistent on telling me,” Twilight replied as he guided her back into the living room. He closed the window with a click, dampening the patter of rain to a dull drumming. Yor fell onto the couch.

“Alright, if you say so,” she sighed while Twilight switched on the radio and turned the dial to her show.

“I do. Good night, Ms. Briar.”

“Good night, Twilight.”

He disappeared into his room, but light spilled under his door long after he’d left. Yor could only wonder what he was up to.

***

The next morning, Twilight emerged from his room with a look of determination he usually reserved for serious missions. If he was aware that this was the first time Yor had seen him in his pajamas or bedhead, he didn’t address it. She looked up from where she was lounging beside the radio.

“I have it,” he announced. He raised a stack of papers in the air which were covered in his signature neat handwriting. “I have a list of things we could do.”

Yor’s eyes bugged. “This is a lot more than just a having ‘some ideas.’”

“Being thorough is an important quality as a spy.” He laid the papers out on the living room floor where she could read them. “Take a look, let me know if any catch your eye and I’ll star them. I can also add any ideas if you come up with them.”

It felt like being a kid again and reading the newspaper comics with Yuri as she and Twilight spent the morning poring over his grand list of things to do before one dies. A post-mortem bucket list of sorts.

“Flying a plane?” Yor read incredulously, “Do you have access to a plane?”

“I could figure something out. Should I star it?” Twilight asked. Yor thought about it.

“Sure.”

There were other things that made Yor wonder if Twilight truly had the means to follow through with them. Did he have a hot air balloon? Access to a tiger? Tickets to a cruise? Regardless, seeing the list made her feel excited for the first time in…well, perhaps years. 

“A checklist this big is a bit intimidating,” Yor said once they were done, marked up papers scattered across the floor.

“It’s necessary if we’re to make the most efficient use of our time,” Twilight reasoned, “I can put together the perfect schedule to accomplish as much as possible. Give me a few hours to write it up.”

“You’re going to make a…bucket list schedule?” she asked. Twilight shrugged.

“That’s one way of putting it, yes.”

“D–Doesn’t that…I don’t know, take some of the magic out of it?”

He tilted his head. “What do you mean? Aren’t bucket list items meant to be accomplished?”

“Well, yes, but it just seems strange to try to cram in as many things as possible,” Yor explained, “It’s a bit like eating an entire bag of candy rather than eating a few pieces a day.” She fiddled with the edge of her dress. “B–Besides I’d rather get started now than wait a few hours,” she added in a mumble.

Twilight laughed one of his rare laughs. “If you’re impatient, then why didn’t you just say so, Ms. Briar?”

“I–I’m not!” she stammered, “I can wait if you need!”

“No, no, no, just let me get dressed and we can get started,” he said, a smile dancing on his lips.

“No, i–it’s really okay if you need me to wait!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be quick.”

“No!”

Despite her insistence, Twilight was indeed quick. Before noon, they were on the tram headed towards downtown Berlint. Yor had always wanted to go to the top floor of Berlint Tower where there was the huge television and radio antennae, but she had never gone. Ever since Camilla had gushed to her and their coworkers about how Dominic took her on a date there, Yor figured the place was for couples. Maybe it was, but it was too late for shame now. It’s not like anyone could see her, anyway.

They took a small glass elevator up to the top crammed full with other people. Yor barely fit, even though she was shoved against Twilight’s shoulder. He didn’t seem bothered by the close proximity, he only looked down on the city, his pale blue eyes surveying the shrinking cars and people. Yor opened her mouth to say something and then hesitated.

“What is it?” Twilight asked quietly under the murmur of the crowded elevator.

“N–Nothing,” she said, “I was going to ask if you were afraid of heights, but I suppose you can’t be if you know how to fly a plane.”

“Oh, I see,” he chuckled. He looked back over the city. “I’m not anymore. But I used to be.”

“Used to?”

“Handler found out that I was scared of heights and made me sit on the ledge of a fifty story building for two whole days. No harness, no safety line or net, just my feet dangling free over the ledge.”

Yor was horrified. “That’s terrible!”

“It worked, though,” Twilight said with a shrug. “Although if I think about it for too long, I still get a little queasy.”

He chuckled again as if he hadn’t undergone psychological torture disguised as espionage training, but based on what Yor had seen from his handler, that seemed normal. But no, he seemed content to watch the city condense below him.

The view at the top of the tower was breathtaking. They were above the skyline, looking over the tops of skyscrapers and into the Ostanian countryside on the hazy horizon. Yor didn’t know the sky could be so blue or the clouds so large and fluffy. She had never been this high up; she could hardly imagine being even higher in a plane. What had stopped her from coming here sooner? 

Her answer came when she looked around.

Maybe this really was a place only for couples. There were at least six she could spot in front of the huge glass windows; some of whom were clearly high school students who had skipped class and others who looked like empty nesters, their wrinkled hands clasped together. Suddenly Yor felt bad for dragging Twilight up here, it would look like he was here by himself. When she looked at him, though, he was enraptured by something on the horizon.

“The safehouse is in the apartment building tucked behind that office complex,” he said while pointing a finger to the glass. Yor squinted in the direction but didn’t see anything recognizable. From up here, all of the buildings looked like they were cut from the same five molds. Twilight tried again. “See the Berlint library? The place with the white dome? It’s just a few streets down from that.”

She squinted even harder until she found a tan building that looked a little familiar.

“I…think I see it?” she muttered unconfidently. Twilight nodded.

“Berlint’s layout is quite impressive. Even though it’s been here for centuries, it’s the easiest to navigate city I’ve ever been in. All of the roads can be traced back to seven main boulevards, yet they’re hardly congested,” he explained, “And the address system! One of the most neatly organized systems I’ve come across. When a new building is created, they have a sophisticated algorithm that they use to generate an easily identifiable address.”

All of that information had gone over Yor’s head.

“S–Sounds like you know a lot about Berlint even though you’re Westalian,” she said to try to add to the conversation.

“Of course. I always do my baseline research on any city I’m stationed in. It’s useful to know the quickest way to get around,” he replied, “Although Berlint is much easier than most cities. Münks is a nightmare. It took me a lot longer to memorize that map.”

“Uh, Twilight…” Yor glanced around at the other couples gazing through the large tower windows. A few had glanced his way. “You’re, um, attracting attention. Talking to yourself.”

Whatever information dump haze Twilight had been in snapped and he looked around, just now noticing the stares he was getting. Then he returned to the window, leaned against the railing, and looked at Yor.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind,” he said, “To be honest, I forget that no one else can see you quite often.”

“W–Well you shouldn’t! If you act strange, someone might report you to the SSS!”

Twilight had always treated the SSS like some sort of bogeyman, so she expected him to take her threat seriously. Instead, he just smiled.

“I’ll be alright. I can talk my way out of an SSS encounter,” he said, “Besides, I think it’s better to act like you’re here instead of ignoring you. You deserve to be acknowledged, Ms. Briar.”

His words had momentarily stolen every thought from her mind. She could only look away and hope her cheeks weren’t glowing red. “I just don’t want to have to watch you be arrested,” she mumbled, “That’s all.”

“I won’t. They haven’t caught me yet and they never will,” he said easily, “I just want to feel like you’re still alive.”

“Th–That’s a lofty goal.”

“I’ve never backed down from a challenge.”

***

Twilight indeed did not back down.

After Berlint Tower, they took the tram to the city’s art museum. He was every bit the gentleman escorting her through the galleries, pausing in front of notable works and explaining imagery and technique. Then they toured the royal gardens where they paused to watch the small fish swimming under an arching stone bridge and bask in the shade of a swaying tree while admiring the dancing petals of flowers Yor couldn’t name. After that, they caught a late afternoon show at the theater and Twilight bought two tickets despite Yor’s insistence that he didn’t need to. While the fuzzy black and white shadows shimmied across the movie screen, she snuck glances at Twilight’s shimmering eyes in the darkness. He looked mesmerized by every movement and word of the actors, like they were the most interesting things in the world. She wondered if that’s how he looked at her while she spoke.

They walked out of the theater into the cooling night breeze. Yor’s eyes were still adjusting to the frightening starkness of reality when she noticed a street cart selling candied apples. When Twilight noticed her stare, he inquired about it.

“I passed that vendor all the time on the way home from work. I always thought maybe tomorrow or maybe next week, I thought I’d always be able to if I wanted,” she said, “It’s so silly because apples are my favorite fruit and yet I never tried it even though they looked delicious.”

Twilight bought an apple and held it up for her to admire its red gleam, ignoring the confused glances of others on the sidewalk. He bit into it with a satisfying crunch.

“Well?” Yor asked expectantly. Twilight licked a candy piece that stuck to his thumb.

“Good. The candy layer was thicker than I anticipated.” He winced slightly. “The apple is a bit tart, though.”

“Ooh, I love tart apples! Apples are the best when they’re a bit sour!”

He took another bite. “Is that so?”

“Yes, our neighbors had a big tree that would drop apples into our yard. Yuri and I would live off them some autumns when I didn’t have enough work.”

“And you still like them?”

“Of course!” She beamed. “They’re delicious, why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged without further comment and she laughed.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“You have a big piece of candy stuck to your cheek,” she said while pointing to her own face.

He laughed, revealing his teeth. No fangs just as she thought, but a small gap between his right incisors. Young and boyish, just for a moment. After the apple seeds and stem had been tossed into the trash and the wooden stick nestled between Twilight’s lips, he pulled out his notebook from his jacket.

“What are you writing now?” she asked.

“Your anecdote about the apple tree,” he replied around the apple stick, “Just adding it to my records.”

“And will you write down everything else that I’ve told you today?”

“Eventually. Don’t worry.”

While she listened to the scratch of his pen against paper, Yor watched the pink streaks of the sunset fade into the blue sky. The day had lived up to her every expectation and more. It filled her with a bit of melancholy to realize it was over.

“I wish this day was just a little bit longer,” she said wistfully, “It was so fun. Thank you, Twilight.”

He didn’t look up from his notebook when he responded. “We’re not even a tenth of the way through our list. We’ll have plenty more days like today.”

“Still, this was a special day, nonetheless. I’m sad that I can’t live through it again.”

With a final scribble, Twilight snapped the notebook closed and put it back in his jacket. “I think the fact that days only happen once is what makes them so special,” he reasoned, "Impermanence is what makes everything beautiful.”

Yor sighed. “That doesn’t stop me from missing it when it’s over.”

“True.” He gave her a soft smile. “But there will be more days, don’t worry, Ms. Briar.”

She couldn’t complain. At least there was that.

***

And there were more days.

The checklist became less of a strict to-do guide and more like a list of suggestions they followed. Of course, every day couldn’t be like the day they’d had at Berlint Tower, Twilight still had to work. They fit in activities between missions; an afternoon spent boating on Lake Stanburg before a night mission here, sneaking into the city zoo to watch the handlers feed the animals while Twilight left a package at a drop point there. 

More often than not, his missions felt like items that had appeared right off her list. As Handler became more confident in Twilight’s state of health, she began reassigning him missions with higher stakes. One evening, Twilight pulled on a ridiculous purple patterned suit and boarded a yacht party hosted by a particularly eccentric artist. Once everyone else on board was drunk enough to be falling asleep at their tables, Twilight and Yor freely roamed the entire ship, laughing at the absolute gaudiness of it all. 

“These curtains are imported silk made from an extinct silk worm!” Twilight exclaimed with no small amount of outrage when they came across an unsuspecting hallway window, “And he’s putting it right by the window where the sunlight and salty air will destroy it. Absolutely despicable.”

“He should’ve consulted you first,” Yor giggled.

One of her favorite missions was when Twilight infiltrated an illegal gambling den hidden above an unsuspecting cafe. He had let her choose his disguise and emerged from the safehouse bathroom wearing an awful shoulder-length wig that did not suit him at all. In the den, he puffed on thick, expensive cigars while Yor helped him cheat at poker and they cleaned out every other player. Unsurprisingly, their hosts took this poorly and chased Twilight out with a hailstorm of bullets, turning an otherwise quiet street corner into an active war zone at three in the morning. They made their grand escape in a stolen car, tearing through the desolate streets of downtown Berlint while a fleet of angry gangsters followed. It took a good half hour for Twilight to shake the last of them off.

By the time they were done, both were laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe.

Yor didn’t bother counting the days or weeks as they passed. She couldn’t believe it, but it was the happiest she had ever been. She didn’t know that such happiness existed or that she could achieve it even after death. Was this how normal people felt? Was she allowed to be this happy? It all felt so unnatural to her. Maybe she was wrong all this time and she really was asleep, maybe she would one day wake up back in her old apartment and somehow she’d have to go to work like she hadn’t simultaneously had the best and worst dream of her life. But, inexplicably, the days kept going by.

There was something magical about the days when Twilight had a free afternoon or evening and they would wander around Berlint, no end goal in mind. This was how they stumbled across odd little shops like a storefront that offered an extensive collection of taxidermied mice. Or the tiny bakery run by a kindly old woman that Twilight swore made croquettes almost as good as the ones he’d eaten as a boy. That was the funny thing about Twilight. He’d been so reserved and serious when she’d first met him. Sometimes he still was, especially when he had hours of late paperwork to catch up on or when a mission took a particularly difficult turn.

But sometimes, if Yor was lucky, he would have these little bursts of unbridled enthusiasm or glee about something. She became especially good at coaxing them out of him, usually by nonchalantly asking him about a random, obscure topic. She learned that, underneath the tireless agent who lived for his spy work and the dogged pursuit of world peace, there was a much kinder, gentler man who loved studying history and any song with a good bass solo. He had a secret sweet tooth for candied fruit he would never admit out loud, and he also had a soft spot for children, although they seemed to confuse him. She cherished every little sliver of himself that he so rarely gave because she knew that there was no one else in the world he shared those pieces with.

“Do you think there’s an afterlife?” she asked one day. Twilight was sprinkling bits of fish food off the railing of a bridge so Yor could watch the fish swim up to the surface to gobble it up. They were used to somewhat morbid topics like this one, when one of them was dead, it was inevitable. She was fascinated by how Twilight’s mind worked and today she was hoping for a peek inside it.

“I don’t know,” Twilight answered. He tossed another small handful of food over the edge. “I haven’t given it much thought.”

“None at all? Not even when you were a soldier and you could’ve died any day?”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t on my mind. I didn’t really care if I died back then, I just wanted to get revenge.”

Yor shuddered. He’d painted such a haunted picture of his younger self when he described his military service to her. Young, angry, and desperate. She’d been the same when she was younger, except instead of angry she’d been terrified. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that they’d ended up in similar professions.

“Well what do you think now?”

Another toss of feed. More bubbles from gobbling fish.

“An afterlife might be nice,” he replied, “But who knows?”

“What if you go to hell instead of heaven?”

He eyed her with a sly smile. “Are you worried for your soul, Ms. Briar?”

“A bit. I don’t know if I’ve lived a good life,” she sighed, “Ethically, I mean.”

“You raised your brother with great personal sacrifice and made the world safer for him. I think that counts for something,” he said.

“So you think I’d go to heaven?” she asked.

“Probably. Do you think I will?”

“I think so. You just want world peace.”

He laughed dryly. “If the end justifies the means, then maybe you’re right. But I think I might be cutting it close.” Yor wasn’t laughing with him.

“You’re a good person, Twilight,” she insisted, “You deserve a happy ending.”

“Say that to all the people I’ve cheated and killed.”

She wanted to argue with him but knew that was a losing battle. When he wanted to be, he could be awfully stubborn. Instead, she pivoted.

“Well, let’s say we both get into heaven,” she said, “What do you think heaven is like?”

Twilight tossed the last of the fish food onto the water and dusted his hands of the remaining feed. The little brown chunks barely made it a few feet in the current before they were swallowed up by a growing horde of eager black and gray fish. A few of the unlucky ones who didn’t get any darted back and forth under Twilight’s shadow, hoping in vain for one more handful.

“It’s probably nice. Good weather, not too hot, not too cold,” he mused, “Might be a bit crowded, though, if people like me are allowed.”

“Twilight…” Yor warned. He relented and looked up to the sky where fluffy white clouds drifted by on a silent wind.

“I remember being a boy in Luwen and playing with my friends,” he began, “My father would be furious if he found out I was slacking on my studies to play, so I had to be careful about it. We’d play all day, sneaking into military warehouses, going fishing at the creek, all the things boys do when they’re bored. By sundown, we’d have worn ourselves out with our games and we’d walk back to town…” He paused, as if lost in a vision of once-forgotten childhood days. “I think heaven is like that; walking with your friends in the sunset while reminiscing about all the fun you had together. And somewhere at the end of your path is dinner your mom made and a warm bed.”

For a brief moment, Yor could almost feel it: a warmth that settled so neatly into her chest that it was like it was meant to be there all along. The feeling of being full and satisfied after a long meal and resting her head on a familiar pillow.

“That sounds nice,” she breathed. He shrugged again.

“What about you? What do you think heaven is like?”

Now Yor knew why Twilight had been so stumped when she’d asked him, the question was so difficult. His answer was so poetic, how in the world could she ever compare?

“It’s, um…Maybe your family’s there. Th–The ones who have passed, I mean,” she said. Twilight nodded encouragingly. “And you can talk with them and tell them everything they missed. A–And when you’re done, you can sit with them on a hillside that looks into a valley full of forget-me-nots. You sit with them forever, enjoying the view and talking.”

Twilight nodded again, his wistful gaze caught on something in the distance.

“Sounds idyllic. Peaceful,” he murmured, “I’d like to get into that heaven.”

“You will.”

“We’ll see.”

“No, really, Twilight,” Yor insisted, “You’re a good person and you deserve good things. You’ve sacrificed just as much as I have, all for people you’ll never meet. That gets you something.” She hesitated, suddenly horrified at how her voice began to tremble. “And you’ve helped me so much, more than I could ever repay.”

Twilight sighed, but his ears turned a little pink. “It’s really the least I could do.”

“You’ve done more than most would. You’re a good person, Twilight.”

His hands absentmindedly traced the carvings in the bridge. She knew he wished he had some more fish food, anything that he could busy himself with.

“Well, I…I don’t feel like a good person,” he muttered, “But thank you. I’m glad that…well…” He turned to her with a small, sad smile, “I’m glad that we met. Even if it was like this.”

“Me too,” Yor replied without thinking, “I’m glad that I got to know you somehow. I think that we would’ve been friends. In another life, that is.”

His sad smile turned a little more genuine. “Are we not friends now?”

Yor met his gaze and nearly choked on her tears. Why was she crying now?

“Yes we are,” she sniffed, “I don’t think I–” She cut herself off with a sob “I’ve ever really h–had friends. M–Maybe that’s all I really wanted.”

This was humiliating, just how much she was crying over something so simple as a friendship, but she hadn’t realized she’d wanted it for so long. However, if there was one person she trusted to watch her cry like this, it was Twilight.

“I th-thought for the longest t–time that I was in hell because I w–was so miserable in this form. But now…” She sniffed loudly. “If y–you’d told me I was in heaven for the past few weeks, I w–would’ve believed you.”

She buried her face in her hands, sobbing like she never had before. It wasn’t sadness, nor was it happiness. It was something else; the breaking of a dam inside her, a release of pressure she’d felt her whole life, a type of catharsis she’d never known possible. Beside her, Twilight leaned against the railing with a small laugh. She spared him a tearful glance between her fingers.

“It’s strange,” he said with that smile of his, “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

She stared at him for a long moment before breaking back into sobs and laughter.

***

Yor had yet to figure out how to float like a proper ghost, but these days it felt like she was managing it somehow anyway.

Despite what she’d said, life with Twilight wasn’t always easy. Sometimes a mission went wrong and Yor would be beside herself with frustration that she couldn’t do anything to help. Occasionally, she’d get stuck behind doors if Twilight wasn’t able to hold them open long enough and she had to wait until he returned or she was yanked to his location. But it was all manageable. It still felt like heaven.

At night, Yor would wonder how different her life could’ve been if she’d met Twilight while she was alive. She could’ve properly introduced him to Yuri. They might not have gotten along at first, but surely her brother would’ve warmed up to him. And then she could’ve met up with him after their jobs had kept them both up late and gotten coffee from that cafe they’d found the other week. Maybe she could’ve taken him to Nielsberg and properly shown him the place where she grew up so he wouldn’t have to scribble everything down in his notebook or clack away at his typewriter like he did all the time.

And…maybe they could’ve had something more. Maybe she could’ve proposed they get married just so Yuri would get off her back about being single at her age. It wouldn’t have to be a real marriage, maybe just one for convenience. A cover for them both.

Or maybe it could’ve been a real marriage.

Twilight had said it was pointless to dwell on the past too long, but she couldn’t help herself from fantasizing what could’ve been. Wedding dresses and church bells. A little house with a picket fence. Maybe a child. Maybe a dog.

Of course, Twilight was right. It was pointless. But still, her dreams were beautiful and they kept her company through long, lonely nights.

***

Twilight was a very good cook. Yor couldn’t taste anything he made, but every time he cooked, the finished product always looked like it smelled and tasted amazing. He had no reason to cook, but Yor had asked him to recreate a stew from her childhood and once she had seen how easily he whipped it up, she kept asking him to make meals she’d wanted to try. He told her stories about his life while he cooked, stories she suspected he had never told anyone else. Stories about childhood croquettes as he fileted a fish with quick, precise cuts. His military service while he fried hamburger steak. His most memorable missions over a bottle of ridiculously expensive wine he nabbed from a target. She nearly choked with laughter when he described how he and Franky once went undercover at a country club as husband and wife.

“The wig was so poorly made, hair started falling out in clumps,” Twilight explained, his cheeks red with laughter and alcohol, “So Franky had a trail of long red hair following him everywhere on the golf course. By the time we were done he was missing so much hair that he looked like Handler if she had tried to shave her head while blindfolded.”

Yor burst into a fit of giggling, feeling somehow drunk herself even though she hadn’t had a drop. Twilight gathered up his glass and the empty bottle and went to the kitchen to do the dishes.

“Did Handler say anything when you returned your disguises?” Yor asked from the dining table. Twilight answered over the sound of running water.

“Oh she was furious. The wig wasn’t too much of a loss because it was cheap, but she nearly screamed when she saw that Franky had stretched out her favorite athletic top.” He came back out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Of course, she was even angrier when she saw what he’d done to her shoes….Ms. Briar?”

Twilight looked around the room as if confused.

“Twilight?” she called.

His eyes snapped to her and softened. “There you are. I thought you’d wandered off for a moment.”

“But I was right here the entire time?”

Confusion bloomed across both of their faces until Twilight waved a hand.

“That was strange. I was probably just seeing things,” he said as he went to finish the dishes.

“Probably.”

But they both knew that they were lying.

***

It happened again a week later. Fortunately, it was in the safehouse again. Unfortunately, it was much longer.

Twilight was absorbed in one of his impromptu lectures, this time about papermaking. On a mission, he’d recovered some old Westalian texts that had been smuggled across the border. They were so fragile that they had to be handled with gloves on.

“Paper is often just made of more recycled paper. It’s shredded into tiny pieces, mixed with a special glue, and squeezed through filters. It has to be done several times in order to even it all out and to adjust the thickness of the paper,” he explained. Yor watched him while he worked, head propped up on her palm. “The less you filter it, the thicker the paper. The more, the thinner.”

“Is that why handmade paper has those smudges in the grain?” she asked.

“Yes, that happens when there’s thicker pieces of pulp in the mix or different colors,” he continued, “They dip a screen into the pulp water, at an angle so it doesn’t catch yet, and when they pull it out, there’s a thin layer of wet pulp. After that, it’s taken to be squeezed to take out as much moisture as possible before drying and…Ms. Briar?”

Admittedly, Yor had closed her eyes, content to just listen to the sound of his voice. But her eyes flew open at his concerned tone.

“Ms. Briar?” he called again. He stood up from the table and looked around.

“Twilight?” she answered. She tried to reach for his arm. “I’m right here.”

Her touch went completely unnoticed. Twilight walked to the living room, then the kitchen, his eyebrows pushed together in worry. 

“Yor?”

He sounded broken in a way she had never heard him.

“Twilight?” she answered, just as desperate.

He spun around on his heel so quickly that she almost stumbled backwards. His face crumpled with relief.

“I thought you’d left,” he said with a gulp. “You know…really left.”

“I was right here the entire time,” she insisted.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence that fell upon them followed by a terrible, creeping dread.

“Why is that happening?” Twilight asked weakly.

The answer was blatantly obvious to both of them. Yor had come into this strange existence with these equally strange bouts of invisibility. It would only make sense if she left the same way.

“I–I think it’s starting to happen, Twilight,” she whispered. She wanted to look away, to avoid seeing how he’d react, but she couldn’t. Not when the time she had left to see him was quickly dwindling. His Adam’s apple bobbed around a thick swallow.

“Already? But the list—we’re only halfway done, if that,” he protested, but his voice had no fight left in it. “There’s so much that we need to do still.”

That was what they had told themselves, that there was so much they needed to accomplish. Twilight methodically checked items off the list as they worked through it. He was right, there were plenty of entries with empty boxes next to them.

But when Yor stopped to think about, really think about it, she was content.

She was happy.

She was satisfied.

“There’s still a lot to do, right?” Twilight asked again, his tone nervous and unsure.

“I…” Yor began. She took in his wide, worried eyes, then looked down to her hands. “I don’t know. I feel…”

Twilight leaned forward in anxious anticipation.

“I feel okay,” she concluded, “about this.”

And the words felt right. She’d never felt more right about anything else before.

“I feel okay about this,” she repeated, “I’m ready to go, whenever that is.”

The words registered in Twilight’s mind in waves. 

First, Yor watched as his wide, blue eyes somehow grew even wider. Then they narrowed to slits and that divot appeared on his brow, the one that meant he was in deep concentration. And finally, his eyes softened in resignation and his lips curled into a small, sad smile.

“It’s funny, when you said that, my first thought was but I’m not ready!” he said morosely, “Even though you’re the one who’s leaving, not me.”

“Oh, Twilight.” Yor reached for his wrists. He barely concealed a shiver when her fingers closed around them. “Just because I’m ready doesn’t mean I won’t be sad. I don’t want to leave you, but I…I can’t stay like this forever. This was what we wanted, wasn’t it?”

He stared at her hands clasped around his wrists.

“I don’t think I’ve wanted it for a long time,” he whispered.

She matched his sad smile and dared to cup his cheek with one of her hands. Watery eyes tracked her every move.

“I’m not gone yet,” she said softly, “We’ll just make the most of our time. And…And when I do go, you can know I went happily, thanks to you.”

He barked an empty laugh. “That doesn’t stop me from not wanting you to go. I’ll mourn you every day, probably for the rest of my life.”

Yor wished she could’ve kissed the tear away that fell down his face.

“I’m glad I became somebody worth mourning to you, Twilight.”

***

They did make everything of the time they had left. It was surreal for Yor to continue every day life knowing there was an unknown, invisible counter ticking away at her time left on this plane of existence. 

Twilight had told Handler he was taking a leave of absence, no questions asked. Handler, of course, blew up in a fit of rage, harshly explaining to him in no uncertain terms that leaves of absence did not exist in his line of work, especially if they were unexplained. Twilight simply left her behind in her office, fuming and yelling.

“Won’t you get in trouble?” Yor asked during the ride up in the photobooth.

“Probably. But I don’t really care about it right now,” he said simply, “I’ll worry about it later.”

Later meaning after she’d left, but neither of them mentioned that.

Yor’s bouts of disappearances started to occur more frequently. She could sense when they were about to happen, the same way she could tell when dark, heavy clouds in the sky were about to burst into rain. Even when she told Twilight she felt one coming on, he was distraught during the entire episode. He never broke down like she feared, only paced anxiously back and forth, calling for her until she finally came back. 

It got worse.

One day, she was sitting with Twilight at their favorite cafe, simply enjoying people watching together. She blinked and suddenly it was night and they were back in the safehouse, Twilight perched on the living room couch and wringing his hands. When he saw her, he jumped to his feet.

“Yor! You were gone all day,” he said breathlessly, “I was so, so worried.”

Yor blinked again, completely confused.

“Weren’t we just at the cafe?” she asked.

Twilight paused his pacing and stared at her, his eyes full of fear and heartbreak.

“That was hours ago. Don’t you remember?”

She slowly shook her head. She didn’t remember a single thing. It was that feeling again, the one like waking up without realizing that she’d fallen asleep.

“It’s soon, isn’t it?” he asked hoarsely.

“Yes, it is.”

He fell onto the couch next to her. It was so strange to experience someone grieving her already when she could still talk to them. Neither of them spoke for a long, long time and they didn’t need to.

***

That night, Yor lay in Twilight’s bed across from him. It was a tight fit, but they didn’t mind. They spoke quietly in the soft light of the bedside lamp, not wanting to spend nights alone anymore. It felt natural, being so close together.

“Would you ever get married, Twilight?” she asked. Her finger idly traced his knuckles. Long ago she would’ve been horrified to be this forward, but she quite literally had nothing to lose.

“My job doesn’t allow it,” he murmured, “But…maybe if I were to retire some day, I might.”

She breathed a small laugh. “I can’t imagine you retiring.”

“Neither can I, but it’s either that or die in the line of duty. Besides, if I retire, that means the world is at peace,” he said, “And if that happens, I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my life enjoying that peace.”

“I see.” Yor imagined Twilight as a grizzled old man living somewhere in the countryside, sitting in a rocking chair on the porch of a cabin and enjoying the taste of peace in the summer air. “If you were to get married, you could enjoy that peace with someone.”

“I don’t have to get married in order to enjoy it with others. I could have friends, you know,” he huffed.

“I thought spies didn’t have friends.”

“I’ll have made some by then.”

Yor giggled, imagining an old Franky beside Twilight at his countryside cabin, both of their hair thin and gray. She suspected that he would still somehow be complaining about dating and women even then.

“I never thought I’d get married,” she said, “I never had time for dating, let alone marriage. But now that I think about it…I wouldn’t have minded getting married.”

“You could’ve married one of your assassin colleagues. That way you wouldn’t have to lie to him about your work,” Twilight suggested. She laughed again, recalling all of her strange colleagues at Garden.

“I don’t know if they’re marriage material,” she chuckled, “Not my type, anyway…”

She shyly looked up at him and asked as casually as she could, “What about you? Would you have married me if we met?”

Twilight hummed with thought.

“Sure, if we could make it work with me being a spy,” he said much to her immense relief, “We could’ve met on the job, maybe. If you didn’t kill me first, then maybe we could’ve gotten to know each other.”

“We could’ve gone on missions together,” she added hesitantly, “I could’ve taught you how to use my throwing knives and you could teach me how to shoot a gun.”

Twilight nodded and smiled. “We probably would’ve eloped and not told either of our bosses. Just a secret between us.”

She grinned. “And we could’ve gotten a townhouse in uptown Berlint. One in that neighborhood by the park with all the fountains.”

“Or an apartment in one of those tall apartment complexes right off the main street,” Twilight suggested, “One with a view of the whole city.”

“I’d prefer the townhouse. After going to Berlint Tower, I think we should stay on the ground when I can.”

“Are you afraid of heights now, Yor?”

“No, but you are.”

They both laughed at this; his acrophobia was one of the thousand inside jokes they had by now. Yor’s heart soared at the sound of his laughter.

“You have to write all this down,” she said, “Either in your notebook or on your typewriter before you forget.”

Twilight stretched his arms with a deep, tired sigh. He rolled back toward her, still smiling.

“I’ll do it later, don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten anything yet.”

They’d gone through several packets of paper and Twilight was running out of room in his notebook. There was surely more than enough to make a book.

Or a report. Her grin faded.

“Are you still going to tell WISE about everything I told you?” Yor asked quietly.

Twilight paused, his mind calculating something at lightning speed.

“No,” he answered, his voice low like he was telling her a secret, “I don’t want to.”

Relief blossomed in her chest. Their nightly discussions may have started as an empirical record of her life, but it had somehow transformed into something different. It was still a record, but it contained secrets and thoughts she’d never shared with anyone else; a record of the conversations she’d had with Twilight and the moments they’d shared.

“Good,” she murmured and covered his hand with hers. “When I’m…After I’m gone, I want you to keep those papers. And when you miss me, read them and remember all the time we spent together.”

They hadn’t spoken much about what would happen after she’d left. Doing so felt a little too morbid, too painful for them both, but she couldn’t bear the thought of him mourning her without any comfort.

“I will,” he promised.

And with that, she was content.

***

When the sun rose the next morning, Yor knew that day would be her last.

She couldn’t explain it, she just knew. 

She watched the golden morning rays cut through the blue dawn sky and fall upon Twilight’s sleeping form. Despite his best efforts, he’d drifted off in the night, his hand still under hers. He looked as peaceful as she felt, free from every worry. If heaven was lying here, watching him sleep in peace, then Yor would’ve been okay with that.

But no, eventually his blue eyes fluttered open and met hers and she told him today was to be her last.

He only smiled sadly and gazed at her for a long, long time.

It was enough for her just to be close to him, so they laid there for hours; being close and talking in hushed voices about nothing in particular. The weather. Favorite meals. Happy memories. 

“Isn’t there anything else you want to do, Yor?” he finally asked. 

There really wasn’t, but it would be nice to go out on one final outing, to see the blue sky and be around other humans. 

“There might be some things,” she mused, “Are there any weddings around here, you think?”

Twilight grinned.

He let her pick a suit from his closet, carefully holding each one up for her to see, until she chose a sleek black tuxedo and a deep crimson bowtie.

“Red’s my favorite color," she said while she watched him tie it in the mirror. He caught her gaze in the reflection with a smile.

“I know.”

They ventured out of the safehouse and into the day. It was already mid afternoon, but the sun seemed intent on shining through the fluffy clouds that dragged across the sky. Their path led them to the tobacco stand, much to Yor’s delight. Even though they had never spoken, she had become fond of the grumpy clerk. It would be nice to see him one last time. When he asked Twilight why he was skipping work, Twilight just waved the question away.

“Do you know of any big weddings happening today?” he asked instead.

With some suspicion, Franky passed along the rumor that some big government official’s daughter was getting married today and the reception was at the Royal Hotel. 

Yor wished not for the first time she could’ve held Twilight’s hand as they rode WISE’s nicest car to the hotel. She settled for watching his profile as he drove.

“Have you ever crashed a wedding before?” she asked him idly.

“I’ve infiltrated them before. Usually I’m disguised as an invitee,” he answered easily, “But this will be the first time I’ve ever gone as myself.”

“It’ll be a new experience for us both then.”

“Indeed.”

Yor had been to the Royal Hotel before, although only under the pretense of assassination work. It was one of the most beautiful buildings in all of Berlint. Built by a king two hundred years with exorbitantly expensive marble, Twilight explained to her, its overwhelming elegance was almost intimidating to Yor. Maybe during her life she would’ve been nervous to walk through its gleaming walls, but now she just let herself admire the delicate architecture. 

Twilight beckoned her through a side hallway and they snuck like mischievous children through a service door and into the main hall. The reception hall was gorgeous; white and pastel blue flowers hung from the walls wrapped in delicate silk that shimmered in the flickering light of the tabletop candles. The guests were decked out in their finest suits and gowns and milled about eating and dancing. Yor had never been to a wedding before, much less a wedding reception. She didn’t realize just how happy everyone would be. The girls at work had whispered about awful weddings they’d gone to, ones with arguing in-laws or rowdy guests.

But the scene before her now was like straight from the fairytale books she read Yuri.

Everywhere she turned, the most beautiful people she’d ever seen were laughing over plates topped with canapes and oysters or pleasantly chatting while gripping sparkling cocktails. Couples spun and turned weightlessly on the dance floor where the band merrily plucked away at their instruments. Twilight and Yor lingered on the outskirts of the party, lost in the swirl of colors and laughter.

“What do people usually do at weddings?” she asked. Twilight gestured to the grand hall.

“They enjoy themselves.”

So they did that.

Yor insisted that Twilight try every single dish at the banquet table, including the beige brick of foie gras everyone else seemed to be avoiding. He rated the different drinks at the open bar, even drawing some attention to himself when he drank one shot of the three different vodkas they offered in quick succession to compare the taste. Yor watched with amusement as Twilight came up with an impromptu lie about knowing the groom in college when he spoke with another guest, spinning a tale about being on the same rowing team and participating in an international competition. The hours slipped by notice until Yor looked around and realized the crowd of guests had thinned.

They were seated at one of the tables topped with a dwindling candle and a bouquet of small blue flowers, enjoying just listening to the sounds of merrymaking. Absently, Yor wondered if heaven was perhaps like a wedding reception, a big party full of loved ones that never ended. She’d missed being around other people, being a part of something bigger than herself. If there was indeed a party in heaven, then she looked forward to being able to eat the food and talk with the other guests herself.

“Would you like to dance, Yor?” Twilight asked, his eyes trained on the remaining couples slowly swaying to the music.

“H–How?”

“Do you not know how? I can teach you.”

“No, like how would you dance with me if I’m, you know, not solid?”

“Easy.” He lifted his hands in the air. “I’ll just hold my arms out for you.”

“You’ll look weird, dancing by yourself,” she said. There were still plenty of people left at the reception. A lone man on the dance floor wouldn’t go unnoticed.

“Nonsense. They’ll just think I’m drunk. They won’t kick me out, anyway, the bride’s grandmother loves me.”

The grandmother in question had spent at least half an hour talking Twilight’s ear off about her tomato garden over dinner. When she was done, she patted his hand and called him “a good boy” and said it was a shame her granddaughter was marrying her fiance instead of him. Yor couldn’t stop herself from giggling when she saw his ears turn bright red.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Twilight continued, “I just thought I’d offer.”

Yor clenched her dress in her fists. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to dance with Twilight, she’d just never done it before.

But, again, she had nothing to lose and not enough time to not take advantage of the present.

“I’d love to dance with you,” she breathed.

It felt right, the way he guided her to the dancefloor and showed her where to put her hands. It was a good thing she couldn’t step on Twilight's shoes because she was clumsy on her feet. Regardless, he gazed at her with such fondness while they danced that she forgot all about the other guests watching him. For a long time, it was just the two of them slowly dancing in a beautiful place.

Had the event coordinators hadn’t started flicking on the overhead lights, they could’ve remained there forever swaying, the lone couple left on the dancefloor. They stumbled out of the hotel to find it was dark and very late. Twilight glanced at Yor.

“Where to next?” he asked. 

Yor stretched her hands out to the night sky. She felt invincible. She felt devastatingly human. She felt like she could live forever and ever. She felt impermanent.

“Anywhere.”

***

They were in Twilight’s car.

They hadn’t spoken about a specific destination, they just got in the car and started to drive. They drove through the turning roads of Berlint, then took the exit out of the city. They drove over hills, through forests, and past lakes and rivers. Occasionally they’d pass another vehicle driving at this ungodly hour and the oncoming headlights would briefly light up the car interior. When that happened, Yor always spared a glance at Twilight to find he was looking back at her.

They alternated between listening to the radio, talking in meaningless circles, and lingering in the comforting rumble of the engine. 

“Are you scared?” Twilight asked quietly over the radio churning out a soulful ballad.

“No, not at all,” she answered truthfully.

It was true.

Even though she was at peace, she expected to feel some dread knowing her end was near. Instead she felt nothing of the sort. She looked back on her life, recalling her earliest memories of her mother singing to her, her father holding up a newborn Yuri. She remembered holding her brother the day their parents died and begging their neighbors for any food they could spare. She remembered her first Garden kill, how she’d felt a sickening combination of disgust and curiosity at the way the blood had stained her hands. She remembered the day Yuri left for college and the first time she worked a shift at city hall. She remembered accepting a job to eliminate a bar full of western spies and the fear she felt when one of them had snuck up behind her.

She concluded that, yes, the bad memories were bad. Those experiences had haunted her, they’d felt like the world was ending. But, looking back on it all now, the good moments still outshone the bad ones and had made it all worth it.

The sky on the horizon was beginning to turn blue with the promise of sunrise when Twilight pulled the car into a dirt parking lot. She didn’t ask where they were when he opened the car door for her and he didn’t give her an explanation. The answer came when he led her down a path cut through long, waving grass to a beach overlooking a great expanse of churning water.

Yor had never seen the ocean before. She’d read about it in books, seen it on the small screen of a television, but she had never seen it for herself.

The water lapped at the stony beach, kicking up sand and shells with each crashing wave. When she squinted into the slowly warming horizon, she could see where the black water met the wide sky and she thought for a moment she could see the edge of the world. Large dark clouds loomed above the oncoming sunrise, cutting strange patterns in the fading stars.

Twilight took a seat on the sand, legs pulled to his chest. Yor joined him.

The wind blowing through the water and their hair spoke for them. There was nothing more to say, they simply took it all in. The rising sun. The shining waves. The peace on Twilight’s tired face. This was heaven, it just had to be.

“Yor?” Twilight called.

“Yes?”

He swallowed.

“I love you. Just so you know.”

They both smiled.

“I love you, too.”

For the first time in a very long time, Yor felt her eyelids grow heavy and exhaustion creep on her mind. She laid back on the sand and stretched her feet out. When Twilight did the same, she shuffled closer to him and placed her head on his chest, listening to the quiet thump of his heartbeat.

“Tell me about heaven again, please,” she murmured. His voice rumbled against her ear.

“It’s a beautiful place away from the rest of the world,” he said, “Where you and everyone you love meet again.”

Yor closed her eyes, the sound of waves crashing filling her ears.

“You tell them about everything they missed. You laugh and cry. You recount the memories you made with them and talk about how fun it all was.”

Yor could feel it, that warmth that fit so snugly in her chest like it was meant to be there.

“And when you’re done, you watch the sun rise forever and you’re happy.”

Whether it was from the sun, Twilight, or something else, the warmth in Yor's chest grew. She was safe. Content. At peace.

“Thank you, Twilight,” she whispered.

And she was happy.