Tick

Tick

Tick

The noise of the clock in Anya's room seemed to reverberate throughout the room. Father and daughter stared, eye to eye, neither willing to back down from their contest. Out of his peripherals, Loid saw that Anya's hands were fidgeting. A clear sign of nervousness.

He wasn't exactly sure how things had become so tense. Breakfast had gone well enough – he and Yor's efforts had resulted in a well-prepared and delicious meal, as usual, and they made sure to listen to Anya talk about the show she had been watching while the two of them were in the kitchen – but as soon as Yor got up to clear their empty dishes and he'd offered to help Anya study in her room, thinking it would be the perfect lead in to asking her about the weirdness from the day before, the girl had instantly frozen in her chair. A normal reaction to the word 'study' would be whining, excuses, or trying to run from the room. Not staring at him with wide eyes and tense shoulders as if she knew he had more than helping her with mathematics on his mind.

But she didn't say anything as she shuffled out of her chair.

She didn't say anything as she led him to her bedroom.

And she still refused to say anything as she sat at her desk, not even moving to reach for her schoolbag to retrieve her study materials.

It seems like Loid would be the one that had to make the first move.

"Anya…" he started, carefully keeping his tone light, "Yor told me you had a nightmare?"

The girl's gaze flitted across his face, back and forth, as if she was sizing him up.

"…Yes?"

"…Was it about what happened last night?"

Anya finally broke eye contact with him and shrugged. Loid sighed.

"Anya, I'm not upset with you about anything, I'm just concerned." He kneeled down to her level and put his hand on her shoulder, hoping it and his words would provide even a modicum of comfort. This conversation would be like pulling teeth if she shut down on him.

'Let's just cut to the chase.'

"Mr. Roche was your guardian before me, wasn't he?"

Anya nodded, and Loid couldn't help but imagine what her life could have been like. Did Peter find her as unfathomable as he sometimes did? Did he spoil her? Did he comfort her after her nightmares? Was he the one to introduce her to Spy Wars? What did her bedroom in his house look like?

'Did Anya latch onto him as quickly as me? Did she…love him?'

"Papa is the best papa, though," Anya blurted, grasping the hand that was on her shoulder, "I don't want to go back, I promise!"

Loid blinked. Right. There is no point trying to imagine all that when it wasn't relevant information. The sting of jealousy must have been showing on his face, too, if Anya had been prompted to respond to him like that. He needed to get a hold of himself.

"I wasn't worried about that," Loid forced himself to laugh, "I was just wondering why he seems to scare you so much." He let his brow crease, "Did he…did he ever hurt you?"

Anya's eyes went wide, and she shook her head emphatically.

"Did his wife? Or their son?"

Anya hesitated, before shaking her head.

"You don't seem as sure about that."

Anya sized him up again, the silence stretching out, before she whispered, "Sometimes they called me a freak."

That…that wasn't exactly what Loid expected. Somehow, he felt even more confused. He was pretty sure she wasn't that sensitive, to be traumatized by a little name-calling. He knew from her occasional complaining (and from spying on her at school to see for himself) that some of her classmates, including Damian Desmond, had called her many more things that could be considered more hurtful, but she always seemed to bounce back from those fairly quickly.

(And thank goodness for that, because the Friendship Scheme would have been dead in the water from day one if emotional sensitivity had been an issue).

But maybe all of it really affected her in ways that they weren't seeing…

"A-and Bruno would jump out and scare me for fun," Anya hastily continued, "And old-Mama got mad easily."

Loid nodded slowly, but he was still confused. The picture before him was still…off. Not that he didn't believe her – he had lived with this girl for long enough to know when she was lying or exaggerating. All of this was the truth. It really seemed like much of her bad experiences from the Roche household did not stem from the man they'd met last night.

But her stutter, and the nervous smile on her face that only ever appeared when she was lying, told him she was still hiding something.

Anya stopped smiling.

As Loid raised his eyebrow and opened his mouth to question her sudden change in mood, Anya bent over to pick up her schoolbag and pulled out her math notebook. She turned to a random page and grabbed a pencil before glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. The message was clear.

Loid sighed. If this was as far as he was going to get, he might as well not push her. He stood up and started to reassure her, just so things wouldn't end on such an awkward note, but he was interrupted by a knock at Anya's bedroom door. Loid looked to the door, and then back at Anya, who seemed to throw herself into playing the part of being fully engrossed in the math problems in front of her. Although, it would be more believable if she actually wrote something down instead of just miming.

"Come in."

The door opened to reveal Yor, still in her yellow nightgown, holding a small tray with two mugs of steaming liquid and a small bowl of peanuts.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, "I know we just had breakfast, but I thought you two would like a drink and snack while you work."

"Thanks, Mama!" Anya said cheerily, as if she hadn't been so sullen only seconds before. Her notebook now had random scribbles and Loid felt a twinge of annoyance at the messiness of the wasted page.

Loid smiled warmly as he took the tray from Yor but his stomach was still in turmoil, as if he'd missed a step while hurrying down a flight of stairs.

And he didn't become WISE's most successful operative by ignoring his gut.

He needed to talk to Franky again.

XXX

He gave the informant three days before he returned to the newsstand. Work and school took up the Forgers' days, and he was still getting short missions from Handler, so he hadn't had the chance to talk to her before her bedtime on Monday, but Loid had gotten the distinct impression that Anya was trying to avoid him in the few hours they did find time to share. She refused to make eye contact with him at the table when they ate, and she had asked Yor to take her to the bus stop alone on both Monday and Tuesday with the excuse that she wanted more mother-daughter time.

(Of course, Yor beamed at the sound of that, and Loid had to look away).

On the evenings that he was home, Anya ignored him, preferring to mutter at Bond and steal glances his way every few minutes. Every time he even thought about pulling her into another 'study session', she would hole herself up in her room. Agent Twilight found it maddening – he had a source of information right in his home, and the mood of a six-year-old should not be an obstacle to this – but, as a father, Loid had learned that children are more likely to be cooperative on their own terms.

He would give her space.

But meeting with Franky on Wednesday afternoon made him want to go back on that.

"What child did you pick up when you went to that orphanage?" Franky asked cryptically as he handed Loid a newspaper that both men knew was hiding a manila folder of information within its folds, "I wasn't expecting you to send me down a rabbit hole when you asked to know more about the Roches."

Loid narrowed his eyes, "Is Operation STRIX in danger?"

"That's for you to decide," Franky said, "But I was only able to get so far before I had to back out."

Back out!?

Spies didn't trust people, on principle, but Loid at least trusted Franky's ability to be shrewd. One had to be, in the field of intelligence. Franky had connections from many levels of Ostanian society, from the moderately powerful to the ordinary to the…less than savory…and, for the strata he couldn't reach on his own, that was where the connections of his connections came in. That was the power of networking, and Franky did it easily; his short stature and demeanor meant that people were likely to find him harmless and underestimate him. But Loid knew that clever eyes hid behind those glasses, and he knew that Franky knew that information could come from anything and everywhere. And he knew how to follow its trail accurately.

Both men also knew that valuable information was risky to come by. It brought unwanted questions, at best, and put a target on your back, at worst. So for Franky to find himself in a situation where he knew he would attract the wrong kind of attention…?

Someone in the Roche family was dangerous.

Loid clutched the newspaper even tighter, itching to get back to his office and read exactly what was in the file.

"Anything you think I should pay attention to?"

"Yeah," Franky said solemnly, "A house fire at the Roche's residence at 43 Sheiling Street."

Loid's mental alarms went off.

'And there was the fire…'

"They used to live in Mittle?" Loid asked, to distract himself from that ominous recollection.

Franky nodded, "They're now at the address I gave you before in East Berlint, but there was an incident during the time Anya was still living with them. The apartment faced serious damage but nobody was injured. The fire brigade and emergency services arrived fairly quickly, but the Roches moved out anyway and Anya disappeared from their life shortly afterwards. You found her at that orphanage four months after the incident."

"Arson?"

"Definitely. It occurred in the middle of the night when the family was all asleep, and an accelerant that didn't already exist in the home was found at the source of ignition, so faulty wiring or accidental fire was ruled out. Either way, Mr. Roche was heard saying that he was sure someone was after him and so packed up the family and moved to their current borough. Their new home has smoke detectors, which is rare, so its safe to say that they're taking precautions."

Loid nodded, taking this in, "How were the fire brigade alerted so quickly?"

"Mr. Roche was the one who called it in. There was one whisper that he had mentioned to a colleague that his daughter had woken him up, but the colleague assumed he was confused because he didn't have a daughter. Of course, though, we know about Anya…"

Loid nodded, his mind abuzz with this new context.

"…I didn't believe it was you…"

"Has the family dealt with any other 'incidents' since moving?"

"Nothing that they would notice, but different people have kept a casual eye on them since then," Franky leaned in and lowered his voice, "I should let you know that I ran into my roadblock when trying to find out who may have set that fire. All I could get was that it was an underground organization that was given a hit. Mr. Roche, or someone in his family, definitely angered someone powerful. Whatever method you use to contact him, you'd better make sure it doesn't bring that danger onto your own doorstep."

XXX

As soon as Loid returned to his office in Berlint General Hospital, he did his usual sweep of his office for bugs that could have been placed while he was away (it didn't hurt to remain vigilant) and, once satisfied, called for Fiona.

Ms. Frost entered, clothes as impeccable and face as indecipherable as ever, "Yes, Doctor?"

Loid placed the manila folder on his desk for her to see, "There's been a…small development…with STRIX."

"A development?...A threat?"

"Possibly. Possibly not. One of Anya's old adoptive parents has popped up."

Fiona's left eye twitched. Loid imagined it was the closest thing she would show to open disconcertment, "You accounted for that."

"Yes," Loid said, "Yes I did. But my informant attempted to do a deeper background check and was threatened. That is not normal. Mr. Roche invited me to meet with him, but I shall only do so once, for the safety of the mission. While I keep my distance, I'm going to need you to keep a close eye on him and his family afterwards and update me on potential threats."

Fiona nodded curtly, "Have you notified Handler about the situation?"

"Yes, I have. She has allowed me to conduct this tangential investigation, as I am best equipped to know what is best for the Forgers at this stage in the mission."

"Has the girl said anything?"

Loid sighed, "Not much. She seemed shaken by the initial encounter, but she won't say why and has started avoiding me."

"You haven't interrogated her?"

Loid frowned, "I learned very early on that you cannot interrogate children the normal way, if you want anything out of them. It would affect her morale and threaten the mission."

"If I could sit with her –"

"No," Loid cut her off. Fiona was good at her job, but he knew she was too cold to handle children. She would most likely terrify the girl and drop their chances of getting any new information to zero, "I need you to handle the Roches. I will handle Anya."

Fiona nodded and left the room, orders received.

Loid grabbed the folder and opened it to the first page to begin reading the details of what Franky had found for him. As his eyes skimmed the first paragraph, he also picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Hello good afternoon, this is Dr. Loid Forger from Berlint General Hospital. May I speak with Mr. Roche, please?

The pieces are coming together! Anya definitely was the one to alert the Roches to the fire; she heard the culprit thinking about it while he was doing it. And Anya was definitely reading Loid's mind for their entire conversation, but he doesn't know that, but he is making note of how she reacts to things in a suspicious way. Had to look up if smoke detectors for residential buildings was a thing back in 1960s/70s Berlin and it seems like it wasn't really mandatory and people were slow to implement them. 'Mittle' is an alteration of the real Berlin neighborhood, Mitte.