Twilight felt a chill come over him, and he sat up straighter in his seat.

He had been looking over patient's files in his office, with the noise and bustle of the psychiatric hospital beyond his closed door. He also had his window slightly open, as he liked the gentle noise of activity as people went out and about their day in the world around him. It reminded him that he was working to make sure that their lives stayed peaceful, and give him the hope that people could live their normal lives every day.

He took another sip of coffee as he skipped through another patient's file. His eyes snagged over a familiar name, and he put the mug down.

Erik Zacharis…

Now there was an old man that Twilight never thought he would actually face in person. After stealing the Zacharis Document on a mission ten years ago, Twilight assumed that would be the end of it. Since then, he had done a bit more research on what Erik Zacharis had accomplished in his life, and although he did do a lot to end the war between the East and the West, clearly it had taken a toll on him if he was being referred to psychiatry. How ironic now that it would be Twilight having him in his own office, and listening to his innermost thoughts.

Twilight pursed his lips in thought - an old habit that hadn't quite left him since he had disguised as a man who had a penchant for smoking cigars.

He had been doing this mission for over twelve years, and at the same time, he had been masquerading as a psychiatrist. At this point, the amount of information that he had absorbed may well have been the same volume as an actual qualified psychiatrist. At the beginning of Operation Strix, he had devoured textbooks and journal articles relating to his field of work, and hoped that it would be enough for him to pass successfully.

He always did though. He succeeded in all of his missions.

So why is this one taking so long?

It was the longest mission he had ever been recruited for, but he was warned about that before he took it on. He even recalled Sylvia's sly smile as she mentioned that he might be masquerading as Loid Forger for a very long time: "...so take your time, Twilight. Enjoy being a family man, while it lasts."

He didn't realise that it would be for quite this long.

He stared at the name again, and flipped open their file. Completely unbidden, he recalled the memory of Anya facing down the security guard with a gun. Twilight was so impressed at the time - her form was perfect, as was her negotiation methods.

He would have at least liked to ask Anya where she learned to hold a gun. And, a small, hopeful part of his imagination pictured Anya by his side as he went on a mission. He could see it clearly in his mind's eye: both dressed in black, leaping across rooftops with her as his shadow.

If only he had followed up with her about what happened, but it had already been too long since the incident. He felt like too much time had passed for him to be able to talk about it with her. Damian's kidnapping, and their attempt at his rescue, felt like the elephant in the room at home. When Yor was in the house, Loid and Anya had very carefully steered around the topic together.

Twilight furrowed his brows. Come to think of it, Anya hadn't brought it up with him, either…

Someone knocked at the door. "Come in!" called Twilight, and covered the files with a piece of scrap paper. Then, when he spotted who was at the door, he felt his body relax. "Ah, Fiona," he called to her. "It's good to see you."

Nightfall dutifully entered the room with her head bowed, and closed the door carefully behind her. "I saw the client you've got now. I thought you might want to have a brief about him."

Twilight raised his eyebrows. "You assume I don't know about this man already?"

Nightfall cocked her head. "You've stolen the Zacharis Document, and you had the information that WISE wanted to give you at the time, but it's been a few years since then. Mr Zacharis has retired, but his file indicates that he had been plagued by nightmares of the war and what he was forced to witness, including human experimentation."

Nightfall held out a piece of paper - it was a mission brief, but it looked like she had already decoded it.

Twilight scanned it carefully. So Sylvia wanted him to gain information about what Mr Zacharis had seen during the war?

"Does she also want me to follow up on any of this?" Twilight said carefully. "If we find any information about the human experiments, they could pose a risk to the peace between the East and West."

Nightfall gently shook her head. "The brief says to just get the information. If there is any action required, I'm sure they will let us know."

Twilight nodded, and put the brief in a secure place in his desk drawers. "Thank you, Fiona," he said with finality.

She took the hint and walked out of the office, but turned her head just as she was in the entryway. "Let me know how the consultation goes," she added. "His age may be a complicating factor in his recovery."

Twilight rubbed his face when she walked away. Nightfall was relentless at obtaining information and piecing them together, but she really lacked the interpersonal skills necessary to integrate them in a way that acknowledged that the target was actually a human person and not a mission object.

He glanced at the file again. Anyone who had been forced to witness human experimentation would likely be a complicated patient, and possibly present with some complex needs. Twilight started listing some of the possible symptoms and disorders in his head. Nightmares, flashbacks, guilt, shame, complex trauma, depression. This case was going to be a hard one to approach, but if he was going to make sure that Mr Zacahris trusted him completely to give him the information he needed, then he would need the right tools for the job.

Twilight put the files down, and took out his textbooks once again. Time to do some research.

—

It had been about a month since the kidnapping incident - and a few days since Damian thought of his new theory.

He could not afford to voice this theory out loud. He knew that he would sound like an idiot to everyone within earshot. Even Emile and Ewen, who worshipped the ground that Damian walked on and were on his side for everything, would think he was absolutely insane.

"Is everything alright, Boss? You haven't even touched your breakfast," said Ewen with concern in his voice.

Damian hadn't noticed that he had been pushing around his scrambled eggs with his fork. "I'm fine," he said, a little too quickly.

Ewen and Emile shared a look.

"I mean, I'm just tired. But I'm okay. Thanks," and he managed a wan smile. As if trying to make a point, he brought some of the egg to his mouth, and he swallowed it. He could barely taste it.

"Boss, we know you've had a lot on your mind, and… uh," Ewen stumbled on his words.

Emile reached out a reassuring hand on Ewen's shoulder. "What we're trying to say is that we're here if you need anything."

Damian stared at them, stunned. They had never acted like this with him before, and if he was being completely honest, he just had no idea how he was going to take it. He appreciated it more than they could ever know, and he felt the emotion rise in him.

He couldn't speak for the feeling of gratitude that welled up within him, but he nodded to the two boys, subtly letting them know that he got the message.

"Oh hey Boss, it's coming up to eight. Aren't you going to wait for Anya at the bus stop?"

Damian spluttered on a sip of coffee. "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

Plus, I can't see her right now.

The boys ignored his awkward outburst. "You'd better hurry, the bus is never usually late so you might just miss her."

Damian sighed. "It's okay, I'm not going."

"What? Why?"

"Because-"

Because I think she might be a spy.

Damian closed his mouth. "Because." He said simply and rose from the table. "I'm going to class."

"But it's still too early-"

Damian felt their stares on his back as he walked away, but there was just no way he could explain it to them. They weren't there. They hadn't seen what happened, what she did, all the things she could do. He couldn't even say it out loud because of exactly how crazy it sounded.

He heard the approaching rumble of the school bus, and his gut twisted with guilt.

—

Anya stepped off the school bus, expecting to see Damian there waiting for her, but her stomach sank when all she saw was empty space. Anya waited with her hands crossed in front of her, while the bus rolled away behind her. Maybe he was just late? She had been planning all morning how she would greet him today,

She rocked on her heels and whistled a little. She hoped he was feeling okay. Damian had waited for her at the bus stop ever since their conversation in the nurse's office - the day that Damian was kidnapped. She had really hoped that it represented a turning point in their relationship.

(Because of Operation Strix? Because of something else? She didn't know anymore. But she was actually starting to enjoy his company, which had to count for something.)

She heard running footsteps, and someone stood panting in front of her.

"Sorry I'm late," Damian gasped.

"Morning, Sy-on," Anya smiled at him, and without waiting for him to lead the way she took his elbow first.

She pretended not to hear him gasp in response, but she smiled all the same. She saw in Becky's show Berlint in Love that couples walked with the woman's arm looped through the man's elbow, and she wanted to try to see how it felt to hold on to him like that.

Damian fell into step beside her and shoved his hands in his pockets. A stubborn blush spread across his face and he turned away quickly so that Anya wouldn't see his face.

"You okay?" said Anya. "You're quieter than usual." She wondered if maybe she had taken a step too far, and cautiously loosened her grip on his arm.

"Oh, er," said Damian. Stupid! Stupid! Don't say anything that would give you away!

Anya cocked her head. What would give him away? Was he hiding something from her?

Damian forced out a heavy breath and his eyes darkened. "I just haven't slept well."

Anya felt her face soften in concern. Of course. She should have known that he was still having trouble sleeping after what happened.

"My Papa says that people who have been through something tough sometimes need to talk about it to get better." She eyed him quietly out of the side of her eye. "What do you think?"

Damian groaned. "I'm fine! I don't need to talk about it!"

"Okay," said Anya quietly, and kept her other thoughts to herself. They walked quietly towards the classroom together, but the weight of tension still loomed heavy.

When they got to the classroom, there was something different. A shift in the atmosphere.

Another boy sat in Damian's usual seat.

Anya felt Damian prickle with irritation.

He was new. Anya could recognise that nervous look anywhere, but it was unusual that he was sitting in their class. (It was rare for students to get admitted that late into their school career.)

The boy was a little on the shorter side, and was academically thin, with rule-breakingly long blond hair. A little of his hair flopped over his brown eyes, but it didn't look lazy or natural. Anya knew that look - it was the appearance of someone who was trying to conceal his own face.

He made a point of staring out of the window, and not even acknowledging their presence. In a way, Anya thought, he looked like a prince out of a fairytale.

Damian wordlessly extricated himself from Anya's grasp and marched straight up to the new boy with a glower on his face.

"You're sitting in my seat," he said through gritted teeth.

The new boy jolted, as if a spike of electricity had shot up his spine, and he turned woodenly towards Damian. He looked like a deer caught in headlights as his thin eyebrows disappeared into his fringe.

"Oh," said the boy, and that one syllable punctuated the air so perfectly it was like the air had been made of crystal. In evident confusion, he looked round the back of the chair, and then stared back at Damian. "I can't see a name on this chair. Who are you?"

Anya felt the rage that washed over Damian, and saw him freeze with shock. Who am I? Who am I? Who are you, you arrogant little bastard?

The boy's glance flitted from Damian to Anya, and when he locked eyes with her, she froze. A cold wind blew over her, and the boy's eyes widened with what looked like recognition.

She didn't dare move as the boy looked her up and down, and then rose from Damian's seat, and extended his hand out towards her.

"Get away from her!" Damian shouted from his side of the classroom.

Anya felt the invisible layer of ice covering her body break, and felt it shatter around her in pieces. She tried to look at the eyes of the boy in front of her with a clear view.

He was handsome, in a haunting way, but that wasn't what kept her gaze on him. Normally, she could get a read of someone, through their thoughts, or a general sense of what they felt, but from this boy, she felt nothing.

One of the most important spy skills that Loid had implicitly impressed on Anya was the ability to read people's microexpressions. She was far too reliant on her own telepathy to be as good as her father at interpreting faces, but she didn't need to read this boy's mind to see what he was feeling.

It was written all over his face. His sunken eyes hinted at a life of harrowing loss and sadness, and his thin frame indicated a life of staying indoors.

But why? She couldn't tell.

When she said nothing, the boy extended a hand out to her. "My name is Adrian Kuning! That's my name!"

Despite his apparent air of sorrow, he said it excitedly, like he hadn't had the chance to meet many people before.

Anya stared at his hand, and forced herself to move her own. "A-Anya F-Forger."

Her hand met his icy touch and she shivered involuntarily.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Uh oh! A new character! And a new direction! eeep