Yor wasn't particularly heavy, and Anya was practically as light as a feather, but something about carrying the both of them at the same time as he trudged up the gangplank to return to the boat was especially exhausting. Never mind that he had also been running around all day, entertaining his daughter. Never mind that he had been running around last night defusing bombs. Never mind that he'd been putting 110% of his energy into making sure this vacation went well. Loid was teetering on the brink as much as ever, but this time he was also carrying two sleeping Forgers to boot.

The first place he headed was the concierge's desk. It had occurred to him along the way that he didn't actually know Yor's room number, and she was presently dead to the world. No amount of prodding, talking, jostling, or shaking had brought him any closer to an answer. His only hope lay with the young man behind the counter, who he prayed wouldn't find it too suspicious that he was carrying a knocked-out woman to an unknown cabin.

"Excuse me," he said pleasantly, "my wife was up very late last night, and fell asleep during our outing." This was a lie on Twilight's part, but he had to provide some explanation for Yor's inexplicable ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat. "Could you please tell me the room number for Yor Forger? She's here as part of her job, so I don't know where her work put her."

He smiled convincingly and hoped that all sounded plausible enough.

"Yor Forger?" repeated the kid, scanning a very large leather book. He flipped through several pages of names, before coming up empty. "I see a Loid and Anya Forger. Could that be it?"

"No, that would be my daughter and me. Yor was booked separately. You're sure there isn't a Yor Forger in first-class?"

The kid checked again and shrugged apologetically.

"Is there another name the reservation might be under?"

Twilight thought for a minute. He knew the names of every person who worked at City Hall, but he had no real idea which ones had been invited on the trip, or who was most likely to have made the reservation in case they had been negligent and put the order in under their own name. Perhaps it was easiest to simply try every possibility, starting with the broadest and most likely, and continuing to the most impossible. If he could look at the book himself, he was sure he could find the right answer in a matter of seconds, but the kid was working diligently to ensure he wasn't able to see the list. It was likely policy to not allow guests to see the names and locations of other guests. It was a sensible practice, but thoroughly annoying.

"Let's start with 'City Hall,' and work from there," Loid said, leaning against the counter slightly in an unconscious effort to take some of the weight off.

The motion caused Anya to stir, rub her eyes, and tiredly proclaim "Papa, Anya wants to go to bed…"

"Just as soon as we figure out Yor's room number," he said. "Only eighty-one options to go…" he thought, "or else we'll just have to take Yor back to our cabin."

Anya sat up wide awake and did her best impression of being as sleepy as she had been a second ago.

"But Anya is soooo tired, Papa. Anya wants to go to bed right now. Right now, Papa."

"No, Yor can't—"

"Is it not normal for Mama to sleep in our room with Papa and Anya? Can't a mama sleep in a room with her family?"

Twilight blushed fiercely. How had he been so foolish? A normal family would have simply roomed together from the start. If he pushed any further to find out Yor's room number, the kid at the desk might catch on to the fact that the two had separate rooms at home, and if that happened, he might also realize that their entire marriage was a sham and report them to the secret police.

"R-right," he said. "Never mind then and thank you for your help."

He nodded politely to the man in leu of a hat-tip, since he hadn't the hands for it, and took the stairs towards their cabin—hoping all the while that the jostling motion might wake Yor enough that she could answer his question before their arrival, but she was still snoring softly when they reached their door and turned the key.

He'd already done the mental math on the way down, but as he surveyed the room once more, he took a moment to recheck his figures.

The room contained two beds—a top and lower bunk—and they had three members of their party. Previously, the top bunk had belonged to Anya, and the bottom bunk had belonged to Loid, but now they'd added Yor to the mix. The most reasonable course of action would be to put the two smallest members of the party together, which would mean that Yor should share Anya's bed; however, after the grueling walk to the ship, through the lobby, and down the stairs, Twilight knew himself to be absolutely incapable of lifting Yor up onto the top bunk, which meant that the best option would be to move both Yor and Anya to the bottom bunk, and take the top for himself.

Loid lowered the still sleeping Yor, and Anya took the opportunity to jump to the ground. As he positioned his wife comfortably, Anya began climbing the ladder.

"Anya, wait," he said, as he pulled the pillow out from under Yor's feet and placed it under her head. "I'll be taking the top bunk. You can sleep here with Yor."

Anya didn't even hesitate. She'd been doing her own sort of math, and her conclusion was a little different than his.

"No!" she wailed sleepily. "The top bunk is Anya's domain! Only Anya can sleep on the top bunk!"

"Then where am I supposed to sleep?" Loid asked, more than a little annoyed.

"Papa sleeps on the bottom bunk with Mama," Anya declared, plopping herself down, and doing her best to take up as much space as she could.

Loid scrunched up his face. The room did have two other options, of course: He could sleep sitting up at the desk, or else he could sleep laying down on the floor. Unfortunately, both came with major drawbacks. The desk didn't actually feature a chair, so much as a stool without a back. That meant he'd either need to find a way to brace himself against a wall, or else lead forward onto the desk. Either way, the posture was likely to do a number on his back, and he'd already determined that the metal walls and floors of the ship were uncharacteristically cold, despite the heat of the sun. That meant that the floor offered not just a hard and oddly stained surface, but an icy one at that. Perhaps the stool was the best option after all. At worst, he could just not sleep tonight and catch up tomorrow… unless WISE assigned him another mission… What would he do then?

"Papa," Anya said, peering down at him with a judgmental expression.

She didn't even have to say anything more. He knew she was right, even if he didn't think she knew why she was right, which she did. Why was he being so hesitant about this anyways? They were already married. It was just a sleeping arrangement. Why shouldn't he sleep in a bed with a woman to whom he was married?

"Forgive me, Yor," he said, moving her slightly further into the bunk until her face was practically touching the back wall.

He lay down next to her in the cramped space and folded his arms across his chest. The sheets and blankets were all beneath Yor, which helped to rationalize the irrational feeling that being under the covers together was just a tiny bit more intimate than was allowed.

He stared up at the bottom of the upper bunk and tried his best to slow his breathing and relax his muscles. He'd fallen asleep in much more dangerous places before, thanks to his training. This was nothing.

For the first time since she'd passed out earlier that day, Yor stirred in her sleep, rolled one-half turn to the right, and repositioned herself to lie comfortably on Loid's chest, with her arms loosely around his torso.

Loid stiffened immediately and then after a brief moment, smiled and placed his arm around her upper back. He felt surprisingly calm all of a sudden, even though he knew he should be worrying about what might happen if she tightened her grip. It was difficult to remember such dangers existed when all he could think about was how warm she was; how he could feel little puffs of air on his skin each time she breathed out; how he could just barely hear the beating of her heart. He let the rhythm of it all pull him under, and within seconds he was out light a light.

Epilogue:

Anya waited patiently as Papa's thoughts grew quieter and quieter until she was certain he had entered the deepest depths of sleep. She moved her way over to the ladder and carefully climbed down to the mattress below. Slowly, ever so slowly, she made her way around Yor's side—since she was far less likely to wake up—and up towards the middle of the great Forger pile. She picked out the perfect spot and carefully climbed into the middle of the sleeping mass.

"Goodnight Mama," she said. "Goodnight Papa."

They didn't say it out loud, but she heard them think somewhere in their unconscious minds: "Goodnight Anya."