Lots of Loid angst today :'(

Also, this is the final Spy x Family fic for whumptober, but I have more coming, both some cute one-shots and a longer, angsty confession fic :)

Sentiment and Other Sins

Day 24: Fight, Flight or Freeze

(blood covered hands, "I don't want to do this anymore")

There was blood on his hands as he slid his key into the lock. He swore softly under his breath, swiftly wiping away any trace with his already dirtied sleeve. Loid was not at all unfamiliar with blood—or rather, Twilight was not unfamiliar with blood, but how he hated to track it home.

Tonight, though, there was no avoiding it. The mission had been swift, brutal, and necessary. And he was tired, very tired.

Not for the first time recently, Twilight felt the pure relief of stepping through the door into the apartment. He should not be feeling this way, just as he should not feel the comfort of knowing that somewhere within these walls, two others slept, oblivious to his own inner turmoil, safe from the world that was growing only more dangerous by the day.

When had Twilight's priorities gone from protecting the country, the people at large, to protecting only two? When had he stopped truly thinking of himself as Agent Twilight outside of missions, and started thinking of himself more and more as Loid Forger, husband and father?

It had not happened overnight, certainly. In the beginning he had been solely driven by his mission, going so far as to even manipulate those around him in order to see it through. He used to not have any care for how many people he had to use to complete the tasks appointed to him, but it was within the depths of Operation Strix that, somewhere along the lines, priorities had started to change, against his better judgement.

Twilight crept through the dark house toward the bathroom. Soiled clothes fell into the hamper as he reminded himself to take out the washing tomorrow before Yor found them. He turned to the sink and turned the tap with his wrist before running his hands under the hot water, watching as the blood stained the sink red before sliding down the drain in a crimson stream.

How often had he washed blood from his hands? He found it miraculous sometimes how they never stained. This time there was physical blood, but he was covered in enough metaphorical blood to have drowned three times over. All the innocent lives lost in the name of duty. Of the Mission. He used to tell himself that it was better the few than the millions he knew would lose their lives if it truly did come to war, but there came a point where it didn't seem to matter so much anymore. A river of blood was still a river of blood and Twilight was responsible for enough to fill one. He just wondered how much more blood he could stand to spill.

His hands started to shake as he turned the water off, clenching his fists as he stared up at himself in the mirror. A couple scrapes on his cheek, dark sunken eyes from lack of sleep; eyes that had seen too much, and for all that they lied to everyone else, they could not lie to the man staring into the mirror.

He knew what lay behind them, of course.

The fact was, he was scared of one thing more than war, and that was being the cause of anything happening to Anya or Yor.

If their blood was on his hands, then Twilight was certain that would be the day he would lose himself for good.

No, it hadn't happened overnight, but it had happened, against his direct orders, feelings had crept in. Twilight had tried to push those all too human emotions down. He was a machine, a tool, he was not meant to feel things, or to live the lives of normal men. But the more he taught Anya, protected her, cared for her, the more he felt like he was actually her father. That sometimes he had to remind himself of the truth. And the more time he and Yor spent together, getting to know each other, opening up about things neither of them had ever had anyone to confess to, their feelings had gone from the fake marriage for show to genuine feelings and affection. An affection they had started to act on more and more until the marriage felt less like a sham and more like what marriage was intended to be.

It had happened, and Twilight, for all his skills, had been helpless to stop it. It was a dangerous game he was playing, and yet, he couldn't quite bring himself to care. If he could wake up tomorrow to a world full of peace, he would happily go on as Loid Forger for the rest of his days.

But the truth, he reminded himself as he swiped a wet hand across the mirror to distort the image, turning for a towel, was that that dream could never be. And despite his selfish fantasies he would still be Twilight tomorrow, living only to see his mission through.

Making sure the last traces of blood were gone, he switched off the light in the bathroom and crossed the hall to Anya's door, turning the knob as gently as possible.

The light fell across the small, sleeping figure, sprawled in the bed with a large white lump at her feet. Twilight's lips curled up despite himself as he stepped inside, bending to retrieve Mr. Chimera from the floor where he had fallen in the night, tucking him and the little girl safely under the blankets. Bond's eyes opened and his tail thumped once against the bed. Loid ruffled his ears before he turned to readjust Anya's blankets. He stroked a gentle thumb across Anya's cheek as she murmured something in her sleep, and silently left the room, feeling the weight in his heart only increase as he shut the door behind him.

Would there be a day that he was not around to tuck Anya in at night? To help with homework, or protect her? If he was taken out before this war was over, would she even have the luxury of living to miss him?

Twilight swiftly banished those thoughts, blinking hard against the images of violence and blood that had been with him his whole life. He clenched his hands hard enough for his nails to press into his palms, reminding himself there was no blood on them now. None that could be seen.

He slipped into his room, seeing that Yor was thankfully fast asleep, hair a dark veil over her face. Twilight sat on the other side of the bed, elbows on his knees as he lowered his face into his hands.

Going through life with nothing was easy, it was when you had things to lose that the burdens became too heavy to bear.

"I don't want to do this anymore," he whispered to himself, out loud, into the darkness of the room.

Yor stirred behind him. "Loid?"

He glanced briefly over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" he asked.

Yor sat up, sliding over to wrap her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. "Are you all right?" she asked, eyes wide in the darkness, full of genuine care and concern.

And Loid smiled wanly, throat suddenly so tight that he could do nothing but swallow thickly.

"Oh, Loid," Yor whispered and he suddenly had his arms wrapped around her, pressing his face against her shoulder. Yor seemed slightly surprised at first, but simply held him and after a while, eased them both down, coaxing his head to rest in the crook of her neck, his nose pressed against her throat. Her fingers soothed through his hair and down his back, tracing scars she had never asked about, just like he had never asked about hers.

They didn't say anything. There was nothing he could confess that wouldn't destroy everything. Yor didn't ask, she simply held him as he clung to her desperately, begging for the chance to be able to stay like this for the rest of eternity.

Knowing that tomorrow he would be back to work, stopping a war, making rivers of blood, just Twilight again. Caught between the day and the night, a fleeting passage of time that would be gone as soon as the sun set.

But tonight, he could pretend he was just Loid Forger, a husband, a father, a doctor, an upstanding citizen who did not have blood on his hands, and for now, that would have to be enough.