For the first time in months, Loid heard sobbing behind Anya's bedroom door.

It wasn't a loud wail or choked, wet cries. Not something that he could easily hear through the door if he was a normal father walking from his room to the bathroom at 5 o'clock in the morning. It never was. In the eight months that Anya had been a Forger, for as noisy and wail-y and impulsive as she could be when the sun was high, these moments at dawn were probably the quietest she ever expressed herself. But Loid wasn't a normal father, so he heard her.

He'd caught her, the first time, a week after he had taken her to the hospital for her school project and promised himself that he'd pay more attention to her mental state. But when he burst into her room to check on her, worried that the muted gasps he was hearing was choking, he'd found her huddled under her covers with tears streaking down her face, soaking a spot on her pillow, and grasping Mr. Chimera as if the toy was the only think keeping her from breaking apart, and he'd learned that this was far from the first time she had woken up like this under his nose. It would also be far from the only time he would find her like this now that he knew. Of course, he beat himself up about this; he was supposed to be the perfect father and every sniffle and gasp was like a stab to the heart. He hated children crying. This was something he had to fix.

But the fearful way Anya had looked at him as she'd wiped her eyes that first morning, muttered "Nightmares…", and refused to tell him what they were about, stuck with him every time afterwards and kept him from giving in to his urge to ask her more directly. He left the room assuming it was due to the circumstances that left her an orphan, or her experiences in the run-down place he'd found her.

Hearing her through the door now though, with the context of their meeting with Peter Roche just the night before, made that desire to fill in the blanks even stronger. Spies needed as much information as possible in order to work effectively, and Loid felt uncomfortable staring at this new gap in his mental folder labeled 'Anya'.

Loid turned away from her door to continue his morning routine but once he emerged from the bathroom, instead of heading to the kitchen to prepare himself a cup of coffee and tackle minor paperwork until Yor emerged from her room all bleary-eyed – as he always did on Sunday mornings – he went back to his room to get dressed.

He was going out.

XXX

"Peter Roche. Senior Project Manager at Markenverwand." Loid tossed the business card on Franky's newsstand counter in greeting, "Has a wife and son, used to have an adopted daughter. You gave me his address last year but I need more. Give me everything you can find on him."

"Mornin' to you too," the shorter man groused, still yawning, "So is there a reason you're suddenly desperate for—"

"Had a run-in last night. I need to make sure he's not a threat to Operation STRIX."

"A run-in?"

"He spotted Anya and I at the Berlint Golden Funfair and made a beeline for her."

Franky was suddenly fully alert, "He what?"

"Don't worry. I easily redirected his attention and made sure he wasn't an immediate threat. The conversation was short, but he gave me this card to 'talk more' another time. Anya was a little shaken up by him, though."

"Roche…" Franky picked up the card and squinted at the name, "When I did a brief check on all the families with the same names in Anya's file, I came up with a dozen 'Roche's. None of them turned up with any direct or secondary connections to the Ostanian government, but I can talk to people and snatch some documents to see if there's anything deeper going on with this guy."

"And his family," Loid interjected, "His wife and son too. Our brief conversation makes me think something…suspicious…was going on in that house while Anya was there and I need to know what."

Franky scrutinized Loid as he tapped the card on the counter, "I see…So are you asking for that as Twilight or…?"

Loid narrowed his eyes. He had a feeling he knew what Franky was really trying to ask but he'd rather dare the man to finish his sentence and say it aloud. Luckily, the man didn't seem eager to start something so early in the morning so he just sighed.

"You're lucky my soft spot for Anya overrides the fee I'd charge you for this extra job. You could have just learned most of this information by doing your thing and approaching him yourself."

Loid was well aware of that fact. But there was no way he'd let himself enter an arena empty-handed. Peter Roche already knew for certain that Anya was adopted and knew things about her and her past that Loid didn't; one slip up or mislaid assumption on Loid's end could alienate Roche and would mean that a potentially massive threat to the success of Operation STRIX, almost as large as Donovan Desmond himself, would be that much harder to manipulate.

"I'll take whatever you can give me before I go down that route."

As Franky slipped the card into his pocket and handed Loid a copy of that day's paper, he asked, "Just out of curiosity, what did he have to say about Anya Roche?"

'…nightmares where she would wake up screaming…'.

'And then there was the fire…'.

"Not much we don't already know," Loid lied, "But his wife apparently found her… 'worrying'."

"Worrying? Anya?" Franky laughed, "I can't imagine that ball of energy being thought of as worrying." He dropped his voice to add, "Sure, you need to be careful with how attached she's become to you, but she's too young to be doing anything that a normal foster family would find unexpected, right?"

"Roche said 'she knows things she shouldn't'."

The smile on Franky's face wavered in a way that set off an alarm in the back of Loid's mind.

"What?"

Franky adjusted his glasses awkwardly and shrugged, "Well, she is weirdly perceptive."

"Yes," Loid agreed, "I think everyone who talks to her can see that. She's not as sheltered as her peers and she's very observant."

Franky's smile now seemed more rigid, "No, I mean, when I look after her there are times where she knows things in the moment that she shouldn't."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…" An early morning jogger passed by them and Franky cut himself off. Loid looked at his watch and saw that it was already 7 o'clock. Anya may have gone back to sleep, but Yor was usually up at this time, "We've been talking long enough. I'll get you that information. Just…pay attention to Anya and you'll see what I mean."

Loid nodded in acknowledgment. Maybe it was time to ask the little girl what those nightmares were about.

XXX

When Loid returned to the apartment, he was surprised to find both Yor and Anya awake and in the living room. Both were still in their pajamas – Yor was sporting a light yellow nightgown and Anya was in her usual ratty black dress – but each was in a different position; Yor was nursing a cup of what was likely tea on the sofa as she watched over the younger girl, who was using Bond's mass of fur as a pillow as she watched some morning cartoon he didn't recognize. Yor jumped up from the sofa as he shucked off his coat and made her way over to him.

"Welcome back, Loid! I was just thinking of starting breakfast."

Loid smiled, "Oh don't worry about that, let me get started." He looked over at Anya, "I haven't seen Anya up this early before."

Despite his light tone, he could feel Yor matching his concern as she responded in a low voice, "I actually found her out here when I woke up. She said she couldn't sleep."

Loid stared at the girl curled up in front of the television.

'…nightmares where she would wake up screaming…'.

That's what Peter Roche mentioned as one of the symptoms of Anya's 'trouble acclimating', just that previous night. Loid's cover as a psychiatrist didn't stray much into the realm of child psychology, but he'd read enough to recognize a symptom of PTSD when he saw it in Anya. Roche's comment merely confirmed it. Now he just wasn't sure if he could say her previous screaming affair becoming more held back was a sign of progress.

Loid hated not being sure about things.

He noticed Anya's fists clench in Bond's side. She must be able to hear them, but she didn't turn to look at them or interject as she normally would if they were talking about her. Interesting.

XXX

Sunday morning breakfast was fried potato slices with onions, eggs, bacon, and bread with jam – this was the newest Forger family tradition. It was Yor's idea. It was a small thing for them to look forward to, a small activity to bond over, a hearty meal to warm their stomachs on this lazy day. Loid didn't mind that Yor wanted to spend more time in the kitchen; they worked efficiently together, and anything that would lessen her anxieties about being an effective homemaker was welcome.

He also had to admit to himself that he enjoyed her company. They had begun cooking side by side within a few months of the Forgers coming together, but it had only been these consistent Sunday breakfasts that made him realize that he appreciated her silent, but steady, presence in what he'd assumed – in the beginning – would always be his space.

But that was to be expected, right? It would be terrible for the mission if he couldn't tolerate his spouse.

As he rolled up his sleeves and began peeling the potatoes and onions for Yor to slice, she spoke up.

"I don't know how to talk to her."

"Hmmm?" Loid glanced over and saw that Yor was gazing at Anya through the window into the living room.

"I know you said everything was fine," she was playing with the small knife in her hand, "But…I can't help but feel like something happened last night."

Loid tensed.

"Why do you—?"

"She said she had a nightmare, when I found her this morning. And she seemed so sad last night that..." she took a deep breath and glanced his way, "You said your friend brought up her mother…a-and I think she's still upset about it." Her face went red, "Not that she shouldn't be! That would be ridiculous! But she's dealing with things alone and I want to help but I can't talk to her. I can't comfort her."

"Why not?"

"I don't have the right to. I'm the one who replaced your first wife," Yor continued, her voice getting smaller. The knife in her hand spun faster, "I didn't know her. I don't ask about her, and I'm sure you two don't talk about her out of consideration for me. I'm forcing you guys to hold back; it would be an insult for me to try to tell her daughter how to mourn her, y'know?"

Loid blinked. Based on what he knew about her, he expected her to say that she didn't think she'd be good at it. She'd spent a lot of time becoming more comfortable as 'the mother' of the Forger household, but the lingering worry that she wasn't doing a good enough job, regardless of his reassurances, still hung on like burrs. Anya had latched onto her from the get-go, naturally desperate for a mother, and he was certain that the relationship between the two was ironclad (in a way that he found harder to replicate, as the girl always seemed to stay just one step out of his full comprehension). But maybe it wasn't, at least on Yor's end.

"Yor," he put down the potato peeler and grabbed the knife from her hand to place on the counter, "Look at me."

It took another brief second, but she did. Alarmed to see the beginnings of tears in her eyes, Loid was hit with the urge to wipe them away. He kept that urge to himself. Instead, he dared to put his hand on her empty one, just to ground her more. It had been only a few weeks since she'd stopped flinching at a touch like this.

"Yor, Anya would never be offended by you trying to help her handle her mother's loss. I certainly am not offended by you trying to help. Anya doesn't see you as a replacement and neither do I. You are so much more and that is why we chose you."

"You didn't choose me." Yor said, her face still red, "I asked you to marry me on a whim and you were just polite enough to say yes."

Loid smiled, "No, actually. Anya chose you, remember? Back in the tailor shop."

Yor's eyes widened slightly, "Oh."

"And she may be young, but she's a good judge of character."

Yor smiled a little, thoughtful, "Was her mother?"

The hand at Loid's side twitched. He held his tongue. But Yor didn't seem deterred by his silence like she usually was.

"You don't have to act like she didn't exist. I…I do actually want to know more about that part of your story. Its just that I have to deal with..."

She trailed off but her point was clear. Now Loid was the one who couldn't look at her. Her ruby eyes were still shining, to him, and there was no worry of tears. But he still knew he was firmly placing himself on the edge of a minefield with however he responded next.

So he turned away, swallowed, and said, "Yeah."

A brief silence.

"She must have been a good judge of character, if she married you."

Loid hummed and picked up the peeler again, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. He knew he should feel proud of himself, having gotten that verbal confirmation that she was perfectly happy with him. Happy wife, happy life, strengthened (and stress free) cover. But the irony was sitting heavily in his gut for once and refusing to shift, no matter how much the Twilight side of him was yelling in the back of his mind for him to get it together.

"If it makes you feel better, I could talk to Anya first."

He internally sighed with relief when Yor nodded firmly in agreement. She probably thought that he would be the better parental figure for Anya to talk over her mother with, but Loid just really wanted to get to the bottom of the real reason for Anya's behavior. If something happened to her within the Roche household that would help him better predict future obstacles to the smooth running of STRIX, he would get it out of her. And there was also the thing that Franky had mentioned…

"Would you mind telling me more about her?" Yor said, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked over at her, eyebrows raised, "Your first wife," she clarified, picking up the knife again and turning back to the chopping board, "When you feel more comfortable, of course."

"Yeah, sure."

He almost choked on that lie.

He really shouldn't have skipped his morning coffee.

When Loid re-entered his room after breakfast, he tapped out a quick coded message to Handler:

Operation STRIX asset connection under investigation.

Threat Level: Minor.

Since this story takes place 8 months after the Forgers got together, I've been trying to ride the line between them being closer emotionally than we see in the anime (and manga), and having Loid be at a point where he acknowledges he has some feelings but also still being professional enough to not run away with those feelings (at least in the case of Loid and Yor. The two of them are kind of in the stage beyond co-parenting roommates, but we all know Anya was in love with the both of them from day one).

Google translate was my friend when researching German advertising companies/conglomerates that could have existed in the 60s. Yes, I did an hour of research to find a real company so I could come up with a parody name for a company that is only mentioned once. This is why all my fics take forever to update.