Disclaimer: I do not own Spy x Family or any of its characters, setting, or plot. This is purely a work of fiction for entertaining purposes only.
Chapter 1
By the time the smell of smoke wafted in and the first flickers of orange slipped under the office door, it was too late. Within a matter of seconds, the northwest corner of the Berlint City Hospital psychiatric ward was reduced to black, sooty ash.
A chemical fire–a freak accident from the nearby storage closet.
This was how Loid Forger died. A beloved doctor who chose ensuring the ward was empty over jumping out of his office window to save his own life. A sacrifice to be remembered.
At least that was what the remaining Forger family was told on a sunny Friday afternoon. The truth was never to see the light of day.
Operation Strix was over.
Loid Forger was dead. Thoroughly, truly, remarkably dead. If the empty casket being lowered into the cold, wet earth wasn't clear enough, the freshly carved headstone was:
Loid Forger. 1933-1965. Husband and Father.
And yet, Loid–no, Twilight–stood, fifty meters away, forcing himself to focus on his disguise as the cemetery groundskeeper, despite the cataclysm churning deep within him, a fire that burned stronger than the one that had allegedly murdered him, spreading from his heart to his gut. Despite the mental anguish that cut deeper than any form of torture he had ever endured every single time he heard his wife's heartwretching sobs, or his young daughter's voice, a voice far too worn for a child her age, screaming for her "Papa". Even his brother-in-law stood among the gloomy procession, silently weeping, because no matter how much he wished Loid hadn't been a part of his sister's life, he couldn't bear to see her pain now that he was gone.
It's just for appearances sake, he told himself. It was never real to begin with. Lies, he knew, because there was no denying that sometime over the course of two years, he'd grown fond–no, more than fond–of his forged family. Memories flashed through his head: of chasing Anya and Bond, half-heartedly trying to get her to study. Of Yor, who's red-faced, shy smile and soft kisses he'd grown accustomed to. Of family picnics full of laughter and peanuts and pretend spy missions he'd–somehow–grown to love.
It only eviscerated him more. For the first time, he was the one leaving behind those who loved him. It was the mind-numbing truth.
But alas, he was the master of lies, wasn't he?
That was why, in spite of every well-trained muscle in his body, Twilight turned on his heel, away from his grave, from his family, from his life.
He already had a new mission, and he knew better than anyone else, that missions never left any time for goodbyes.
One year later.
"So, back to Berlint?" Twilight raised one brow quizzically, though his eyes continued to scan the mission briefing in his hands.
"I've never known you to ask such unnecessary questions," Sylvia smirked as she took a sip of her coffee.
"Ah, but it's never unnecessary to practice conversation," the spy quipped, though they both knew he was the last person who would need to practice such basal work within their field.
Outwardly, Twilight gave a slight, determined smile as he was dismissed. Inwardly, his head began to pound as the nature of his next mission began to sink in.
Berlint. Berlint. Berlint.
By some miracle or mere coincidence, he had not been dispatched anywhere near the hustle and bustle of the capitol in the past year. The closest he had gotten was to the outskirts of the city, and only for a short mission. Whatever the reason, he was grateful. The distance had allowed him to tuck the home that he wanted to forget into some dark recess in the back of his mind, so he could focus solely on whatever job he was given, just as he'd always done.
He still dreamed, of course, of pink hair and crimson eyes and brisk walks through the park, but those images never lingered for long as the sun ascended above the horizon. Until now.
Berlint. Berlint. Berlint.
Anya, Yor, Bond. Anya, Yor, Bond.
Twilight shook his head, strengthening his resolve. The past year had only proved to him how precariously the fate of Westania and Ostania balanced on his shoulders. If anything, he was doing this for their sakes, for their safety. There was no room for the past, and there was certainly no room to feel guilty.
Sidestepping fresh puddles on the road, Twilight headed for the station, catching the last train to Berlint for the night. In the dim lighting of the platform, he caught his reflection as the massive engine came to a halt.
He didn't recognize himself. Disguising was second nature to him, and yet, from factory worker to police officer to dentist to politician, while morphing into any of the roles he had been given recently, something had always been off. The missions had gone off without a hitch, but something, something had irked him, a quiet screeching each time he looked into a mirror.
Who was he trying to recognize anyway? He had thrown away everything when he became the obscurity known as Twilight. There was no "himself" to cling to, there never was.
Sighing, the tall blonde figure stepped onto the train.
He was going home.
"Mama, I want cake!"
Yor sighed as her daughter's green eyes stared hopefully up at her. "How about tomorrow, Anya? Mama's tired tonight," she smiled, reaching across the table to tuck a strand of pink hair back into place. The young telepath nodded, sensing that her mother's energy level was low, before crawling out of her chair.
Carrying the dishes to the sink, Yor noted how Anya's plate was only half-eaten. It was moments like these when she missed her husband more than anything. Capable, self-assured, and a phenomenal cook. No amount of cookbooks from the library seemed to remedy the void that he had left behind.
From the kitchen, she watched as Anya sat on the floor with Bond, watching cartoons, per usual, although the spy shows she had once adored rarely graced the television screen anymore. It would make sense, Yor thought, if the lack of the action show was because she missed her father. It saddened Yor too, everytime she thought of when they had given into their daughter's antics and pretended to be spies.
Closing the kitchen light, Yor walked to the calendar tacked onto the wall. Anya had a school outing on Wednesday, Camilla was throwing a party on Friday, and of course, there was tomorrow. Grabbing the pen on the side, Yor made a note to pick up flowers in the morning.
When her mother sank down onto the couch, Anya tucked herself into her right side, and the Great Pyrenees followed. Words didn't need to be said as they drew strength from each other. After everything, the seven year-old could only be grateful that they had stayed together. Yor looked up at the ceiling, feeling the same way.
Loid, if you're out there, we miss you.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! I binged all of the anime episodes and read through the seventh volume of the manga before writing this story. Chapter 2 is on the way; let me know what you guys think!