Chapter Sixteen

—

The first thing Anya noticed when she got home was her parents awkwardness.

Yor showered her with affection, not wanting to put her down, so happy she was home. Safe.

Thoughts of Loid hidden underneath, his identity as a spy.

She couldn't stop thinking about it. How highly aware she was of him.

Nor Loid about her.

They'd finally had it out. She'd wondered if it would ever happen.

But there was also something else in Loid's mind.

Anya.

That above all else, she was safe and at home. An immediate thought to never let her leave the house again, which was ridiculous. A dedication to finding the director and putting an end to him. Never thinking he could be so angry when the doctor mentioned her gashes. Feeling he'd come to play the father very well, caring more for her than he anticipated.

His thoughts marinading in a suspicion he couldn't leave alone, despite this.

Curiosity clawing.

An itch that gnawed at him.

This is what Anya noticed. It was hard to not peek into his head for it.

And it scared her.

He didn't bring it up.

But he wanted to.

To ask how she knew things, how she seemed to get into his head, theories that couldn't possibly be true, but it was late. They were all tired and Anya needed sleep. If there was something going on with her, he'd figure it out tomorrow.

He did not.

Anya slept most of the next morning, only waking to go back to the hospital. The doctors testing for any and everything they found in the lab records.

Her limbs re-dressed, Loid told to change them daily.

A visit to Noah.

A proper time to ask, not found. Or the day after, Anya sleeping heavily from fatigue and stress.

That was fine.

There'd be time.

He could wait.

—

Two days.

Loid had thought and considered and ruminated and puzzled for two days while Anya slept, recovering.

Spent two days trying to track down the director with little to go on. Two days trying to unravel the mystery that was Anya. Two days trying and failing to make the pieces fit together.

Two days spent working to distract himself from the host of questions he had for his daughter.

Fought the urge to ask them while he sat with her eating at the table.

Wanted to ask about the director. Who he was. His name. His appearance. Anything, really.

W.I.S.E. hadn't been able to collect intel yet on what the SSS had, the information kept closed, but to a scarce few. Their only lead to the director cut off.

Then Anya. Their best shot. Wanting to ask her, mixed with the hope that she'd forget about him. Erase him from her past. At least until they caught him and put him in jail.

Or killed him.

It could happen on the job.

But until that happened, a part of him loathed to bring him up. She just got away from him, he couldn't push his agenda like that.

Not that one, anyway.

What he really wanted to know was how she knew it was him that night. It nagged and nagged at him.

He'd considered that she was just wildly intuitive, more so than he previously thought. The idea that she heard him at the political event an insane, fantastical idea. There was no way that could actually happen. A coincidence.

There was a possibility that she had picked up on his personal traits during these incidences. His gait, maybe. Facial expressions she was familiar with. Quirks that would have been invisible to anyone else.

Or facial cues and body language that told her what he was thinking. He'd met spies that were trained for that sort of thing. The idea she was so naturally intuitive, implausible, though. It'd almost have be a sixth sense at that level. But what other explanation did he have?

He watched her eating, and debated.

His daughter unaware of his gaze or state of mind, fully contemplating what Yor had discovered in the last couple days. Information that consumed Yor's thoughts.

That Anya was not Loid's biological daughter, operation Strix, his name, all of the secrets out in the open.

All the secrets except Anya's of course.

She planned to keep it that way.

Yor was also aware Loid would leave one day. That once his mission was over, he had to move on.

This left her with a sadness she didn't know how to cope with, but Loid felt lighter that she knew. That Yor would always take care of Anya, even if he wasn't around.

Anya refused to accept that, her goal, to eventually convince him to stay.

"Anya." Loid said out of nowhere, cutting through her thoughts as he put down his fork. His supper nearly gone. His face as calm as ever, belying his next words. "How did you know it was me that night at the lab?" He asked, Anya's heart stopping, placing her in stunned silence for a full minute. Grasping for an excuse. Completely caught off guard.

Yor looked at him, placing her glass down, confused. She had assumed Anya already knew it was him.

"Um. . . a hunch." Anya said.

Loid surmised a child would see it that way, but her startled jump at the question and her hesitation gave him pause. Confused him even more. "Twice?" He asked, hoping for details.

"Twice?" She repeated. Doing her best to feign innocence.

"At the political event. You knew it was me." He stated, watching her carefully.

'!' "Papa was there?" She asked, clutching the hem of her long t-shirt. She was terrible at fibbing.

Loid nodded, resting his jaw on a fist, studying her. Why would she lie about knowing it was him? He knew she had known. Had stared him dead in the eyes that day, but continued to deny it.

If it was simply intuition, she wouldn't be reacting this way. Having gone still. Apprehensive, unblinking eyes looking back at him. Fork clenched tightly in her hand.

Like he had caught her red-handed.

So, it wasn't just in his head. There was something more going on. "You looked right at me."

Her fork hand flinched reflexively.

A dead giveaway.

"Anya looked at a lot of people." She eventually answered, trying to keep her nerves down. Pressure building in her chest, her head. Looked back at him, innocently. Loid was good at rooting out liars.

He raised an eyebrow at her, his suspicion growing. She was too jumpy. Too evasive. His theory feeling less and less viable. A piece of the puzzle that Anya kept from him. Hid something from him.

She'd held his gaze at the event. Watched anxiously as he'd tried to make his way to her. Saw him the second he saw her. Had held onto him that night at the lab. What was he missing?!

"I'm pretty sure you stared." Loid said nonchalantly, pushing aside her poor excuse.

Under the table, Anya's hand clenched and unclenched. Her nerves catching up with her. She didn't need to use her abilities to know what he was thinking, her fears coming true. She knew this could happen, but she wasn't prepared for it. She didn't know what to do. What to say.

"Anya was. . .um. . ." She struggled to keep her breath steady. A waver in her voice trying to edge it's way in. "Anya was. . . " She tried again, coming up blank.

What did she say?! She was making it worse!

"Yes?" Loid asked, extremely curious to know where this was going.

"Um. . ." Anya's heart pounded, lungs unsatisfied, Her right hand shaking, if it weren't for her tight grip. What did she do?! What did she do?!

"It was. . . ."

Nothing came to her.

Less oxygen when she inhaled.

"It was. . . "

Nothing.

Less oxygen when she exhaled.

"Anya." Loid relieved his fist from the weight of his head. Anya's breaths picking up, no longer looking at him. Clearly trying to think of something to say. He didn't expect a simple question to upset her so much.

"It. . . ." She started to cry, fork dropping from her hand.

"Anya?" Yor asked.

Her respirations quickened further, shallow and panicked. Coming and leaving before she could use the air. Gasping as she started to hyperventilate.

'They can't know! They can't know! They can't know! They can't know! They can't know! They can't know! They can't know!' Anya thought over and over, vaguely aware of Loid pulling her chair out to face him. Not seeing much through her tears, her awareness reduced to little more than her flurry of thoughts. Vaguely aware of Bond whining and pawing at her. Vaguely aware of something held to her mouth, loud and crinkly. Matching the pace of her breathing.

'The lab.' Loid instantly thought as Anya tried to control herself. 'Does the lab have anything to do with this? She didn't have episodes like this before. How does it connect? Why does it upset her so much? Does it have to do with why she was at that event?' Loid asked himself. 'This doesn't make sense!'

In his scrambled mess of a brain, a fraction of a notion insisted in the recesses of his mind, but he pushed them away.

No.

Impossible.

Ridiculous.

He refused them as Yor removed the bag from Anya a couple minutes later, her breathing normalizing.

Shaky and alarming, but normal.

Yor glanced to Loid as she picked Anya up, the crying, muffled when she buried face.

She had a lot of questions too.

But Anya was in no state to answer them. Distressed and exhausted.

Let her Mama carry her to her room, Loid watching her go.

He didn't expect his questions to cause so much stress. Deterring him to ask again, until he knew how to help her.

He was going to have to figure this out himself.

He had to get into the SSS.

—

Yuri was disturbed by what he found.

The experiments. The amount of dead children. The ways they kept a tight leash on uncooperative people.

What the experiments were for.

But no names. Everyone referred to as a number.

And nothing about the director.

So here he went again, into the interrogation room.

Slapped some files down on the table.

Sat across from Brook who held more or less the same attitude she'd always had: Stubborn, unflappable, and apparently unconcerned what happened to her.

"Elijah?" Was her first question. Her face still straight. Ungiving.

"He's safe." He assured her.

"Can I see him?"

"He's in the hospital."

Brook nodded, sucking on a tooth. "Is he hurt?"

Yuri paused, wondering how she was going to take this. "Not physically. But his mind didn't seem to be present. He was unresponsive and unaware of his surroundings." Yuri leaned back in the chair folding his arms.

She nodded again, unsurprised.

Yuri raised an eyebrow. "You're not worried?"

She sighed a sigh that was somehow condescending. "Of course I am. He's my son. I'll always be worried."

"But?"

"He's been that way since birth." She answered, unemotionally.

"I see." Yuri leaned forward again. They had work to do, the only reason for her continued presence. That, and until they had confirmed her claims and the lab was taken down, they couldn't know if she was lying. The director extorting her, turning out to be true, meaning she'd probably be free soon.

He needed information first. "Well, I didn't come to talk about him." Grabbed one of the files. Opened it. "This." Placed it in front of her to read. His starting point.

She took one glance at it. "What of it?"

"You know who they are." He stated. "Don't you?

She didn't move. Didn't answer. Eyed him.

Telling him it was going to be difficult getting the answers he needed. The names of the subjects, who could easily pose a threat to national security, no matter how young. Who could grow up to be the perfect spies.

"Withholding this information is obstruction. You will most likely be acquitted on the grounds of extortion, do you really want to jeopardize the chance to go free?" Yuri tried.

"I got what I wanted."

"You'd risk prison time to keep this information to yourself?"

Nodded.

"Why?"

She folded her legs, leaning back in her chair. Silent.

She was intricating herself. When she was so close to freedom.

What for?

"I'm afraid we need these answers, and you won't be leaving until we have them." He warned.

"What are you gonna do? Torture me? Cause that didn't work so well last time." She rebuffed.

"And your son?" Yuri asked. "We can keep him from you if you don't cooperate." He threatened and she had the gall to shrug. So easily. So readily. Not a care in the world.

"If he's in the hospital, he's better off than he's ever been. I'm satisfied knowing he's safe."

Yuri was running out of things to throw at her. Unbothered by his efforts.

"And what about death? Would you tell us under threat of execution?" Yuri asked, knowing he wouldn't have her killed. He'd already promised she wouldn't be. But she'd given up the lab's location under that premise, maybe she'd do it again. He was curious.

"No." She said steadfastly, no hesitation.

"But you could before?" He asked.

"I couldn't die leaving Elijah in that place, now could I?"

"But you can now?

"Elijah's safe." She repeated, shrugging. Complete indifference. It was genuine. Her ability to shrug everything off. She couldn't be fazed. Like she'd seen it all and nothing else compared, even at her young age.

That was it.

He could almost hear the snap as a piece of this woman's puzzle fell into place.

"You're one of the subjects, aren't you?" He said. She wasn't one of the lab's agents like he thought.

She blinked at him, stunned, and he knew he was right.

The curtain masking every thought she had, dropping, for the first time.

"What?" She said quietly, her face frozen.

Didn't try to deny or deflect it, absolutely floored.

This is why she wouldn't give them up. She was one of them.

He knew it was possible. The lab only used children, but the organization was founded several years ago. The director he was searching for, not the first.

"Which subject are you?" He asked, nodding at the list of numbers in front of her. All but three labeled a failure, or in progress.

"Uh. . ." She managed. Noises catching in her throat, unable to process what just happened.

This was new, he'd never seen her flabbergasted before. Unable to form words, her cuffed hands fisting in nervous energy she had not him shown, once.

'Nervous'

She was nervous.

She was never nervous.

Was she not a failed experiment? His guess she might've been a failed subject, turned into a tool for the director, blown out the window.

The perfect spy.

Her, he realized.

She was a spy.

She was one of those numbers that were proudly proclaimed a success.

Yuri ran his hands over his face, standing. Turning away to walk to the wall. Back again.

He'd been coming in here. With everything he knows. Unwittingly, giving her whatever was in his head.

They'd been keeping her here, giving her whatever was in everybody else's heads.

What did she know? Could she dig deeper than their surface thoughts? He held too much information that could not leave the SSS. His colleagues knew things that couldn't leave the SSS.

Yuri placed his hands on the back of his chair, eyeing her.

She looked very uncomfortable.

"What do you know?" He asked.

She averted her gaze, still in a condition of low panic, unable to accept she blew her cover. He was not supposed to figure that out.

It was all Yuri needed.

Paced the room for a minute, thinking.

What did he do with her now? Even if she told them what they needed, they couldn't let her go free. She knew too much. How did they keep this contained? Even in isolation, prison guards still had access to her. Could still hear what she had to say. The only real way to keep her quiet was her death, but that was too extreme, considering the circumstances.

He looked back at her, realizing she was might be listening in, but she had reverted to her previous state of mind. Maybe she had heard him, but she had just told him she was ready to die.

She'd accepted the situation.

Like she'd had to, many times before.

It made it worse, somehow.

He came to sit down again.

There wasn't much he could do about it now. The best he had, to keep going, a lot of unknowns to determine. She knew what she knew, there was no point in dwelling if she already had it all. He'd figure the rest out when he had time.

"Anya?" He began, her place in this unclear to him. There were multiple reasons they'd want her back so badly, from what he'd read, but he had to ask.

No answer.

No answer? Did that mean Anya was one of them? If she wasn't, wouldn't she say so?

Brook gave nothing away.

"What about the director? What do you know about him?" Yuri asked, deciding to return to that in a bit.

"Not much." She answered, surprising him. "None of—us—were allowed to know. Only the scientists. They kept information on him on lockdown." Said Brook, the feeling of admitting it out loud, slightly unsettling.

"Why is that?"

"For when something like this happens, I would assume."

"No name, then?"

"No."

"Age? Height? Appearance?"

She sighed through her nose. "In in his late twenties by now, I think. Don't know how tall. Pink hair. Purple eyes."

"Pink hair?" Yuri did not miss that bit of info.

"Mm."

"Do you know anything else about him?" He asked.

"Not really."

"What about his parentage? Who was the previous director?"

"His father. Didn't know his name, either."

"Mother?"

Brook shrugged.

"No clue where he'd go next?"

"No."

"Allies?"

"The closest thing he has to allies, are his clients."

"Clients." Yuri said. "What would an experimentation lab need with clients?"

"That's the whole purpose. The director makes a lot of money off of us, hiring us out to the right people."

"By turning you into spies?"

"Pretty much."

"Would the clients know who he is?"

"I suspect not, he doesn't give his name out."

A deep sigh from Yuri as he pulled open another file. Flipped through it. Closed it. Opened a binder. Flipped through it.

"You're the only spy." He noticed, looking at a sheet.

"No one else made it to adulthood." Said Brook

"Hm." As morbid as that was, at least Yuri didn't have to worry about other spies.

Flipped a little further. Found it.

"You're subject 001." Flipped to the next page.

". . .yes. . ."

"These are . . .very detailed. . " He said, looking through a couple of the experiments. He'd read a few, but there was too many to spend all his time on.

Paused.

"You're one of the subjects." Said Yuri, looking up at her, a thought crossing his mind.

She raised an eyebrow at him. They had obviously established that. She must be staying out of his head if she had to prompt him.

"When did the director start sending you on missions?" He asked, not normally curious about people's lives, but something didn't add up.

She took a moment to think. "Bout five years ago."

"And you're son is around seven, right?" Yuri asked.

"Yes. . ." She knew where he was going with this. He could hear the caution in her voice.

". . . . . ." He hesitated. He didn't think he should ask. If he did, he might be stepping into a minefield of questions he didn't want answers to.

"Right. . . " He said instead, putting the binder down. This wasn't the time for this. He didn't think he really cared, anyway, it wasn't his business. He put it aside.

Considered what he knew.

There was absolutely nothing in the records about the director, and apparently, none of the subjects knew anything. The name of the organization listed in place of who owned the lab and property. Some of the agents made it out alive, but they weren't talking. They'd found no trace of the scientists from the lab, either, having disappeared with the director. Their names not found on any doctorate degrees, or records.

Probably changed them.

"What about the subjects?" Yuri asked, refusing to let it go.

Brook said nothing.

He'd probably have to make another visit just to get that out of her.

"Is there a way to undo it?" He asked.

"I don't know, I doubt it."

This hadn't been as useful as he'd hoped.

Yuri stood, gathering up his things before leaving.

He had to pay a visit to his sister.

And it was time to have a chat with his niece.

Authors Note:

I apologize for the bad writing in this chapter. I will fix it eventually, but I need to move onto the next.