So remember when I said this would be a blend of angst and fluff?

Yeah... its just angst today 😭 sorry about that

CW: Panic attack

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"What. Happened?"

Anya couldn't speak. Couldn't even breathe. Everything she wanted to say was trapped in her chest, in her throat, choking her, and her breath came in shallow gasps as she looked into the worried eyes of her boyfriend.

Rage writhed within him, she could tell, but she saw so much more than just anger in his eyes. They reflected her wretched face, and another shiver overtook her to see herself so pitiful and small, which was exactly how she felt. He didn't see her that way - he saw her in pain, and scared, but she didn't deserve his caring attention, or his selfless love. She didn't deserve for him to see her in any other way than selfish, and awful, the worst person in the world.

She couldn't even move from the floor, and she clenched her hands tightly into fists, willing herself to stop shaking, but she jolted when he tried to wrap his own hand around her fist, trying to ease her gently out of her shell.

"Anya, please," he begged, a small crack in his voice. "You can tell me."

She gritted her teeth and shook her head, and in place of being able to speak, a thought leaked out of her instead: I can't.

She didn't mean to project the thought, but Damian didn't look perturbed. "Whatever it is, it'll be okay. We can figure it out."

Nothing will ever be okay. I've ruined everything. It leaked out of her before she could stop it, and Damian hesitated, his hand hovering over hers. She sensed the gears ticking in his brain, silently assessing the situation, and no doubt thinking about what he could do to help her.

"I'm s-sorry, I d-didn't know w-what else to do," Anya choked, her voice thick with tears. I know I shouldn't have come. "I'm s-sorry, you were r-right. I shouldn't be h-here. I'll g-go, I'll go b-back-"

"Are you insane?" Damian baulked. "It's pissing it down out there!" He forced a breath out, to calm himself down. "Besides, you're here now. No point in getting caught climbing out of my window," he exhaled in a hollow laugh, desperately trying to lighten the situation somehow, although without knowing what was wrong, Damian felt like he was floundering at sea, with nothing but a raft and half a paddle.

And though he had half-protested at her presence, Anya sensed that there was a part of him that was happy to see her, although she could also feel a shadow in his mind, lurking just out of reach, creating a conflict of emotions every time he looked at her.

Anya tried to pull away from his mind. She felt bad enough as it was, with everything that she knew, everything that she desperately wanted to tell him. She didn't want to keep accidentally invading his privacy. He deserved better than that.

"You're freezing," he murmured softly, and pressed the backs of his fingers against her frigid cheek.

Anya shivered from his touch, warm on her skin, chilled from the rain outside. She wanted to lean into him, try and soak up as much warmth as possible, but his hand left her far too quickly, before suddenly he pulled her up by her hands.

"Come on," he huffed as he dragged her weight upwards, and Anya stumbled against him. Her legs shook too much to stand, as if her bones had turned to ice, and they could shatter at any moment if she put too much weight on them.

What are you doing? She didn't trust her voice to speak clearly, not with how many tremors ran through her.

"You need to warm up," he said matter-of-fact, but his soft tone didn't fit with his serious, hardened gaze. She was too cold, far too cold for him to leave her on his floor any longer. Why didn't he notice earlier? He should have done something sooner.

She shuffled with him to the en-suite bathroom, leaning her entire weight on him, entirely conscious that her sodden clothes no doubt left his own shirt feeling sticky and damp. Even the water from her rain-soaked hair caused a patch of water to spread on the fabric of his clothes.

Inside, he sat her down on the closed lid of the toilet, while he turned the walk-in shower on to high heat, and almost instantly steam started to fill up the room. The tears on her face warmed up, and Anya rubbed at her eyes, trying to wipe away the salty stickiness.

"Take off your clothes, and put them over there," Damian said authoritatively, indicating an empty corner of the bathroom.

You want me to take off my clothes? Anya smirked, a weak attempt at trying to break the tension.

"Not like that!" Damian spluttered. "Are you trying to kill me?" he pinched the bridge of his nose, and huffed a deep breath, before turning his back to her and making a move towards the door. "You can put them on the radiators to dry. Just focus on getting warmed up, I'll find you something else to wear, and then we can talk about why you're - "

His hand reached for the door handle, but Anya jerked him back by his sleeve, and he whirled to face her, prepared to reprimand her again for teasing him, or for putting him in this position in the first place, but his breath caught in his chest.

Her eyes were wide open, pleading, and it looked like she desperately wanted to say something, but after a moment, she released her hold on his sleeve, and hung her head. I'm sorry. Thank you.

Then: Can you stay with me?

"W-what?" Damian fumbled for words, and turned instantly red.

"P-please," she stammered, out loud, and bit her lip, her eyes huge and watering, and Damian sighed. He could never refuse her demands for long, especially when she looked at him like that.

"Fine," he grumbled, and he leaned his back against the door, crossed his arms, and kept his eyes squeezed shut. "I won't look. Just hurry up and get warm already."

It didn't take long for her to pad into the already-running shower, and even though her eyes and her throat hurt from crying, Anya did manage a small smile. How was it that no matter what, he always managed to think of her? Always managed to put his own feelings aside to make sure that she was okay? He was so selfless… Unlike her.

Anya's smile slipped.

Hiding herself behind the shower curtain, she carefully peeled off her sodden clothes, dropped them on the floor outside of the shower, and let the hot water stream over her. She needed it. She had no idea how cold she must have been, but as each drop of water hit her skin, the cold started to leave her little by little, and her body slowly unwound from the heat.

It was so stupid of her to go to Damian, especially after what she had seen that day. She should have known that it would be a terrible idea to go to him while feeling so emotional about something she could never tell him about. The weight of the new knowledge piled up on top of the secrets she was already forced to hide, and combined their pressure made her feel like she could burst at any moment.

Impulsivity was always a weakness of hers, and she knew that going to Damian's while she felt so raw and vulnerable was an objectively bad idea, but a growing part of her didn't care. Anya needed to see him, if just to get some form of comfort that she so desperately craved. She had realised it when she stood outside Becky's house, and watched her papa drive away with half of her heart.

She stood outside Becky's door for a long moment, before she turned around, and started running, and she didn't stop, even though rain lashed at her. In fact, the storm only made her more and more desperate to get to him. She had started to pick up the pace, and she kept going, even through the rain, even after the sun had set and darkness blanketed the roads before her.

It wasn't fair. Why was it that she was always the one being forced to hold up the weight of the world? Sylvia and Twilight just didn't understand the choices that she was faced with. How could they expect her to think like them, act like them, when her very soul was being torn in half? And yet, when she thought of the boy on the other side of the shower curtain, what he didn't yet know, what would inevitably crush him, she knew she would do anything to prevent his heart from breaking. Even if it meant breaking her own heart first.

As the warmth slowly came back to her, the fog of Anya's despair cleared slightly, enough to leave her with a clearer view of her choices. Maybe it was good that she hadn't revealed anything yet, otherwise she would have never been able to take it back. She couldn't take back what she had not yet revealed. She had to be more careful.

But if she didn't say something, he would no doubt worry about it forever. She had run to him in a storm, fell through his window trembling and on the verge of turning into ice. She took a deep breath. "I had a fight with my papa."

Beyond the curtain, Anya heard Damian's breath hitch. "Ah."

Damian's mind rumbled, and Anya guessed that he might have been trying to think about what to say, and it dawned on her that he might have been having difficulty relating to her. He didn't have much experience with fighting with his parents, or with adult figures that he loved. He certainly didn't have experience with being asked to do dishonest things at personal cost.

"Haven't you guys fought before?" he said eventually. He had moved to somewhere else in the bathroom, and it sounded like he was rummaging around for something.

"Not like this," Anya sighed, and slid down the shower wall until she sat on the cool tiles, with the water drumming over her hair and back, and pulled her knees up to her chest. "It was awful."

My arms hurt so much, Anya grimaced as she moved them, and then paled instantly when she realised what she had done.

"Anya," Damian's voice took on a dangerous tone. "Why do your arms hurt?"

This was the worst time for her thoughts to be leaking - it was exactly what Twilight feared, what he had warned her against, and now she didn't even have to be touching Damian for him to hear her thoughts. She had to rein it in, otherwise she was too scared to think of what could happen…

"It's not what you're thinking!" she panicked instantly. "I threw the first punch!"

"You did what?!" Damian wheezed from the other side of the curtain. "I thought you had an argument! Did he hurt you?!"

"No! No he didn't, I swear!" Anya tried to gather herself, and she had half-turned her body towards Damian's voice. She couldn't see anything through the shower curtain, but she hoped he could sense her truth. "I was so angry, I tried to land one on him but he kept blocking me…"

As soon as they left the WISE headquarters, Anya rounded on Twilight, with a strike so sudden that his block almost didn't make it in time, but after the initial shock he managed to block every blow she dealt as she roared out her anger at him. Her arms hurt from the effort of it, but no doubt Twilight had a few bruises of his own.

"Do you promise? Are you really telling the truth right now?"

"I promise," Anya swore, and tried to imbue her voice with as much sincerity as possible.

"So?" Damian sighed, and asked the question that she feared the most. "Are you going to tell me why you had a fight with your dad?"

"I…"

White noise filled her ears. What could she say to that?

If she told Damian the truth, all of the truth, she would be betraying not just her father and WISE, but her mother too. Sylvia had said that the only way that they could remain a family was if she became an agent for WISE, but she had failed the test, and she had no idea what was going to happen next unless she did something to redeem herself, and quickly. Sylvia had already put her neck on the line to recruit Anya, to hide this mess from the higher ups at WISE, and if Anya blurted everything to Damian, there was no telling what he would do with that information. He could hate her. He could tell someone. She could lose her family. Might even have to leave Eden, or Berlint. Ultimately, he would be forced to choose between her and his father, and Anya knew from experience what an impossible and heartbreaking choice that could be. It would be the height of cruelty to put him in that position.

If she kept the truth secret, like she was supposed to, the only 'casualty' would be Damian. His father would be arrested, his entire family affected, and he would get no warning. Worse, he wouldn't understand any of it, not unless someone explained it all to him, but there was no guarantee that Damian would have someone in his life who could take on that role or responsibility, or do it with tact. It would be cruel to continue on as normal, knowing what she did.

And if she kept the truth secret… The only other casualty would be her. Having to deal with the constant pain of knowing the truth, while at the same time being powerless to act on it or to change it. Knowing the truth, and pretending not to know, while being in the centre of it all. Even worse, if Damian somehow found out that she knew the truth and kept it secret, how would he act then?

She wanted to protect him, but how? How could she say for sure what the 'right' way to protect him was? Keep the secret and protect his feelings, only for him to find out naturally anyway, or tell him, so that he could be prepared, even at the cost of forcing him to choose between her and his family?

It was all too painful to think about. Either option required Anya to make some kind of sacrifice, and it was too big a choice to land on her shoulders alone. Not even love was enough to help guide her.

Sylvia was right to question if she could put her personal feelings aside, if she could sacrifice her own values in the face of the bigger picture. A good spy would. A good spy always did.

Being a good spy was the worst.

Anya sucked in a steadying breath. "I'm sorry, Damian. I wish I could tell you," her words came out in a hoarse whisper, and her throat tightened dangerously, "but I can't."

With all her heart, she wished she could tell him, but her heart and her mind screamed at her, pulled her in different directions, and it ripped her apart. A vicious crack splintered her soul in two, and the strength of it forced the air from her lungs.

"I'm… sorry…" Anya hiccuped, and suddenly the tears spilled out of her. "I'm so sorry…"

Her father's words from that day rang in her ears: Sometimes we have to do things that we don't want to do.

Anya understood, and she hated it. If this was what it meant to be a spy, she didn't want to do it. She never wanted to feel that way again. It was too much, too painful, especially for a girl her age who should be worried about boys, and grades, and parties, and not things like top secret missions, and the fate of the world.

It was a choice that she never had, never could have, purely because of who she was, and what her past turned her into.

"I'm sorry!" Anya wept and the tears wrecked though her, scraping against her chest and her throat, and even though she pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle the cries, it didn't stop her from making loud, convulsive gasps.

I can't do this. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what to do. I'm sorry -

After Anya discarded her sodden clothes from inside the shower, Damian figured that he might as well be useful, so he collected them and hung them out to dry neatly on the heated towel rails, all the while trying to keep her talking. Then, while Anya still seemed to be in a state of pensive silence, he grabbed some fluffy towels from the drawers, and hung them up there too.

At her first strained gasp, Damian froze.

He couldn't see anything beyond the shower curtain, could only hear her increasingly erratic breathing, and his heart picked up the pace in his chest. He had heard Anya cry enough times that he recognised the early signs, and it instilled fear into him.

"I'm… sorry…" she choked on her tears, and it sounded like the words were wrenched out of her.

"Hey, Anya," he said quietly, "you don't have to tell me, it's okay-"

"I'm so sorry…" she continued to sob, and ice trickled in his veins, along with the growing sense that something was very wrong, and he was powerless to stop it.

"Anya, I'm here, it's okay-" he reached out helplessly to the shower curtain, wondering what he could do, what she needed, how he could help -

"I'm sorry!" Anya wept in earnest, and she sounded truly broken, like her spirit had shattered, and Damian couldn't move from the shock of it.

And then he heard her voice in his mind, clear as a bell, ringing and ringing and ringing and it flooded his body with alarm.

I can't do this. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what to do. I'm sorry -

Damian's heart seized, and he realised with a cold dread what was happening. It had happened before, in his very room, when she forced herself to tell him one of her secrets out of a dare.

"Anya, hang in there! Just try to calm down, or take deep breaths, or something!" he cried out, hoping that maybe he could get her attention somehow, but it was no use, and Anya continued to panic and gasp and wheeze and cry and Damian had never felt so useless, so separated from her -

He gritted his teeth. "Right, screw it," he muttered more to himself, but he hoped that Anya heard him before he pulled the curtain back, bare feet meeting wet tile.

Anya had curled herself into a ball, her face almost in her knees, and both of her hands pressed against her mouth, muffling her keening wails. Damian dove towards her instantly, gathering her shaking body in his arms, and pulled her against him.

"It's okay, it's okay, I'm here," he whispered to her endlessly while the stream of water from the shower sprinkled against his arms around her back, and Anya reactively gripped onto his shirt, her body shuddering with sobs. He manoeuvred himself so that he sat with her on the tiles, his arms wrapped around her completely while she curled into his chest, soaking patches of his clothes while she continued to cry.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm -

"It's okay, I've got you," he whispered into her ear as he cradled her hair, still wet from the shower. I'm here, I'm here, it's okay, I'm here -

Outside, the rain continued to drum relentlessly against the windows, while water streamed from the shower head, drenching them both, and the tears spilled from her eyes, melting into the endless, inescapable flood around her.

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I swear next chapter will feature heavy fluff. If I have it ready by tuesday I will post it then, otherwise I will post it next Friday!

thank you for reading everyone. As you can imagine this was a really tough chapter to write, 3.5k words of absolute pain really took it out of me, so well done to everyone who reads this. You guys are my heroes 😭❤️