As predicted, Loid woke up kicking himself.
I am Twilight, he reminded himself, frowning up at his bedroom ceiling, WISE's top agent, and my most important mission yet, Operation STRIX, has encountered an unprecedented threat! There is a chance that the arsonists involved in the Roche fire were after Anya, not the other family members, which means that someone out there also knows about her abilities, no matter what she says about being discrete. I need to take this into account going forward. And sentiment aside, I need to find out exactly how much of a risk she herself poses to peace…
"Anya doesn't want Papa to get in trouble, so Anya won't tell."
He remembered her vehement assurance that his mission was safe with her, but can he trust it? It contradicted all his training, to trust anyone, especially a six-year-old, but maybe if he spoke to her and convinced her to tell him everything she knew, he could plan for any contingency involving any sliver of that information being leaked.
But he had to keep his cool. Yor couldn't pick up on anything being wrong, because then she'd start asking questions and any suspicion directed towards him was always a threat to the stability of the Forgers. He couldn't afford to spook Anya either, because he had no idea what she would do if she began to think he was going to abandon her again. It seemed callous to think a child like her was cunning enough to try and blackmail him, but he also recalled many occasions on which she had used the threat of not going to school to get her way for pettier things. At the time, it had seemed like mere tantrum-throwing, but now…
As he exited his bedroom to freshen up for the day, he found himself glancing at Anya's bedroom door.
'How wide is her range?' He couldn't help but think again.
His anxiety at the unknown bubbled. He hated to admit it, but he could understand a little of why Mrs. Roche had been so unnerved.
XXX
His morning routine wasn't interrupted by paranoia again until he set out to make breakfast.
He made his way into the main living space and stopped when he saw that the gift box that Peter had given him was still on the dining table. The expression on Anya's face when she read his mind to see what was inside unwittingly flitted to the front of his mind, and he frowned.
'How did Peter feel,' he thought as he carried the box to the side-table holding their family photos, 'when he realized that the girl under his care could read his thoughts, plans, and weaknesses, so easily?'
Or maybe the discomfort he was feeling was just because he wasn't a normal father. Maybe Peter accepted it better than him. Maybe he was the one who taught Anya to be more discrete with her abilities…
Yor emerged from her room shortly after he began frying eggs. She waved to him, holding back a yawn, before entering the bathroom. As the sound of running water hits his ears, he couldn't help but wonder how Yor would react to learning what he had the night before.
He couldn't imagine Yor would be anything like Anya feared she would; she was a much better person than Mrs. Roche. Much kinder and more forgiving. He figured she would be surprised but would ultimately take it as another trait to praise the girl for and nurture. Yor was ordinary, with no secrets important enough to take to the grave like him. She didn't have the future resting on her shoulders. She could just be a mother.
He envied her, just a little.
Just after he began to fry the accompanying bacon, Anya's bedroom door opened. Loid kept his eyes on the pan, but he still felt himself tense.
'What am I so wary of? It's just Anya! Just don't think. Don't think. Don't think….'
"Morning, Papa!"
"Morning, Anya," he replied automatically, still not looking up.
A brief silence.
'Don't think. Don't think. Don't think…'
"Papa?"
"Oh, Anya, good morning! Were you waiting to use the bathroom?"
Loid finally glanced up as Yor emerged, patting her hands on the front of her nightgown. It was easy to let a smile slip onto his face as she maneuvered around the girl and headed for the table. Yor ran her fingers through her silky hair as she approached and he felt a twinge of…something, at the sight. Maybe relief, at being saved from having to have an awkward conversation with Anya so early.
He felt the smile die as he finally locked eyes with Anya over Yor's shoulder and saw the way she looked at him.
The way she often looked at him.
Like she was studying him…
Anya looked away.
'Was she reading my mind just now? How much of my thoughts can she parse? What's her range? Can she hear me now? Is eye contact necessary? Is there a trigger? Are there limits? How can I test them?'
"Loid?"
He blinked, brought back by the sound of Yor's voice and the smell of the bacon in front of him. It wasn't burnt yet but was likely crispier than he usually made it. He lifted the meat out and onto a waiting paper towel, to absorb some of the oil, before acknowledging Yor.
She watched him, as she stood by the dining table.
"Ah, sorry, good morning." he said, "Got lost in thought for a second."
"Oh? What about?"
Loid hesitated. She must have noticed because she quickly added, "Not that you have to tell me! But…you were frowning a little…"
Was he?
"Was I?"
Yor nodded shyly, skating her fingers across the wood, "Just a little. Different from your usual 'concentrating' face."
"Oh?" he laughed airily to cover his genuine surprise, "There's a difference?"
"Yes, your eyebrows furrow at a deeper angle when you're genuinely frowning…" Yor smiled back before catching herself. Her face slowly turned crimson, "N-not that I watch you that closely. I-It's just something I noticed! It's normal, right, to pick up on things like that after being around each other for so long?"
Loid felt his face warm a little too, as he felt his heart flip.
"Mama and Papa are flirting?"
Loid's eyes snapped to where Anya was peeking at them from the hallway. She was still standing there?!
If anything, Yor turned redder, "No we're not!"
"Go brush your teeth and wash your face," Loid said, choosing to ignore the comment, "Breakfast is almost ready."
Anya nodded and finally disappeared into the bathroom.
"Well, she seems a little better this morning," Yor said, pushing past her embarrassment and moving to join him in the kitchen. She pulled out mugs and began preparing their favored morning drinks. Of course, by this time, she knew all their preferences by heart.
Black coffee with milk on the side for him.
Raspberry leaf tea, steeped for exactly 7 minutes, for her.
Warm milk for Anya.
"Were you worried about her, still?" Yor continued, "Is that what you were thinking about?"
"No," Loid lied, "I was thinking about…a patient whose case I'm reviewing today. An unprecedented element of their situation came up and I need to re-evaluate."
Yor smiled sympathetically as she poured the hot water over her tea leaves, "Its admirable, how you're always looking out for other people, even in your off-hours."
Loid didn't know how to respond to that, so he just hummed.
XXX
Breakfast itself was more tense than Loid expected…or wanted.
As they ate, Anya was as chatty as usual, regaling Yor with stories from school and her plans for the day. But Loid sat in silence. Normally he would at least try to contribute to the conversation, like a normal father would. Like what was expected of him. He couldn't help it this time, though. His mind was racing, running through questions and theories and analyses that were forcing him to multitask at a less-than-optimal level. He hated that, occasionally, Anya would turn to him with a hopeful look in her large eyes, expecting him to make a comment, but it would fade whenever he only replied with the bare minimum to not seem cold. Yor wasn't fazed, as he had already planted the idea that he was mentally occupied, but he hated how Anya kept trying to bring him into things, even knowing that he now knew about her. As if nothing had fundamentally changed about their relationship with that information.
He didn't feel like he deserved that.
'All this time, has she been interacting with Damien Desmond for my sake? Or because she has her own agenda? She talks a lot but doesn't ask many questions about us in turn. Is it because she already knows everything from reading our thoughts? Does she only tell us what she thinks we want to hear?'
"Papa…" Anya muttered, bringing him back to the present. The wary expression on her face from when he questioned her the night before was back. He looked to Yor.
"You're frowning again," she explained gently, "Are you sure there's nothing else going on?"
Loid tried not to look at Anya as he shook his head, "Just that case I told you about earlier."
Liar.
That voice in the back of his head sounded too much like Anya, anyway, for comfort.
He put down his fork, even though his food was only half eaten, "I might feel better about it if I talk things through with my colleagues. It might be good for me to head in to work earlier than normal today, so if you'll excuse me…"
He nodded his head in apology and stood up to go get dressed. As he passed Anya, he felt her grab his hand.
"Papa said he wasn't mad…" she said in a small voice, and guilt ripped through him.
"I'm not…mad," and he wasn't lying. Not exactly. He didn't know how he felt about things right now, but his feelings didn't matter in this anyway, "It's just work, okay?"
"Can Papa help Anya with her homework tonight?"
'Is that code for wanting to talk things through more?'
Loid saw Yor light up at the suggestion, happy that Anya was still requesting father-daughter time even after the previous night's meltdown, and he had to fight back his wariness.
"…Sure. I'll see if I can come home early to do that."
'I'm going to be briefing Nightfall about last night, so will she be fishing for information?'
Anya flinched, "The scary lady shouldn't know."
Loid's eyes widened and he pulled his hand out of Anya's grip.
'Stop that!'
His movement happened to be a tad rougher than he'd wanted, and Anya flinched. Yor's stare turned a fraction icier.
'Shit!'
"Sorry," he muttered, quickly reaching out to pat Anya on the head reassuringly, "I didn't mean that. Who do you mean by 'the scary lady'?"
'Please say something reasonable…'
Anya glanced back at Yor before staring at her plate to avoid looking at both of them, "Errr…the scary lady who works with Papa. He told me before that she wanted to help me study!"
"Oh," Yor said, face returning to neutral. Loid held back a sigh of relief, "Ms. Frost? I guess…"
"I don't think I'll be inviting Ms. Frost to tutor Anya. She's too busy these days." Loid cut in. He knew he'd long since assured Yor that she didn't need to worry about anything between him and Fiona, but it wouldn't do to bring her over and reawaken all those insecurities again, even accidentally. Besides, he was telling the truth; with Fiona assigned to observe the Roches in his stead, she would be too busy for him to also drag her in on this new…whatever it was that Anya's admission had opened. He turned his attention back to Anya and let a reassuring smile cross his face, "If you want, I can ask another one of my colleagues?"
Anya shook her head, "I just want you, Papa."
Loid nodded stiffly before retreating to his room. Once the door was closed, he rested his forehead against the wood and sighed.
Was he being too paranoid, or too soft, in interpreting her words as double-speak?
"I just want you, Papa."
'Why?'
XXX
His protégée entered his office as soon as he'd finished his habitual sweep for bugs.
"I'm ready for your report, Dr. Forger."
He had to do this carefully, since anything he said here would be relayed back to Handler. Practically, he only needed to relay the important bits of what he had gleaned from his conversation with Peter Roche – the man was not a direct threat to STRIX, his family was also unlikely to interfere, but surveillance and a deeper background check would be necessary to make sure nobody else they knew would pose a threat, especially since Peter had mentioned a coworker with shady connections. The biggest blind-spot for WISE in this was the fire at the Roches' previous address, since all possible external threats to STRIX stemmed from that incident. It should be easy to leave out mentions of Anya.
But Fiona had read the Roche's file, had likely seen Franky's observation that Mr. Roche had mentioned her involvement, and knew what Twilight was capable of; she would expect him to have filled most of the gaps in knowledge indicated, including those that involved STRIX's primary asset – either directly or through inference.
He had already promised Anya that he wouldn't reveal her telepathy to anyone. That was the biggest truth he'd told her last night.
'It's unnecessary,' he reasoned to himself, 'She's an anomaly. She didn't have an answer when I asked her how she got them so it's likely she was just born with her ability. It is highly, highly unlikely that there are others like her in this world, let alone in this country. Under my control, she will not be a threat to Westalis. I am also fully in control of the direction that STRIX takes so the only reason WISE would need to know of her abilities is if they needed to use her outside of this mission and, while I may be the agency's top agent, I'm not a recruiter.'
Recounting the beginning of the night was easy enough. Relaying Mr. Roche's desire to give Anya a gift and his fatherly pride at her having gotten into Eden sent the clear message that the man and his family were 'clean' so-to-speak – they had no interest in taking Anya back and would let her live her new life uninterrupted. He relayed the adjustment issues Peter had described Anya having under their roof, and Fiona noted that it was probably an indication that Twilight was doing a good job of keeping her happy since he had never observed anything so extreme.
"I would expect nothing less from you," she said in her usual monotone, "And are these behaviors the reason why they abandoned her in the end? Seems callous for a family that was prepared to take in an orphaned child. They should have expected difficulties."
"Sadly, yes. Mr. Roche himself was willing to work things through, but his wife had enough and was insistent."
Fiona seemed to think for a second, "Is there a concern that Yor Briar will react the same way and jeopardize STRIX? She seems like a…sensitive woman."
Loid blinked, "Concern? No. I have long since determined that Yor would never abandon Anya. During the few times the girl has experienced distress, she has often consoled and reassured her effectively. She is strong enough to weather any difficulties, which is beneficial."
For some reason, Fiona's gaze took on an intensity at his words that he couldn't help but bristle at. Did she not trust his judgement anymore?!
"So, Mrs. Roche's final straw was the fire?"
"Yes," Loid half-lied, "It was arson, and she assumed that Anya was the perpetrator – acting out because she had scolded the girl pretty harshly that day."
"And you have confirmed that she was not the perpetrator."
"Of course."
Fiona nodded once, "So will my duties include looking for the true perpetrator?"
"Observing the Roches may lead you to whoever put out a hit on them, if not the arsonist themselves. Mr. Roche mentioned that he felt some of his colleagues were jealous of him after a promotion he got shortly before the fire was set; you can check those leads first."
Fiona saluted quickly, then left the room. Loid sighed. One day, he was going to get it through to her that she didn't need to be so stiff around him.
The day went by as quietly as it could, which was a boon for Twilight. After the night he'd had, he needed a calm day with few patients to focus on so he could wrap his mind around the enigma that would be waiting for him at home.
'Homework'. That's what she said she needed him for tonight.
'Come to think of it, how does she have so much trouble with her grades if she can read her teachers' and classmates' minds for the right answers? Is she doing it on purpose to sabotage my mission? Or is she doing it to avoid being discovered? Is it because of some limit to her ability?'
The day was quiet enough that, for once, he remembered to eat lunch. It came in the form of the leftovers from the dinner that Yor had prepared the night before – baked chicken with rice with some dark sauce.
'Well, she's definitely improving,' he thought as he evaluated his first bite. The sauce was sweet and the chicken, even reheated, was the right amount of juicy. The rice was a little too salty, but still edible, 'It has been a long time since she made something genuinely bad. I should do something to acknowledge her effort, like buy her something nice or take her out? Just to keep her spirits up.'
Fiona came back while he was eating, to let him know that she had contacted Handler, and that he had his first afternoon appointment in one hour. She narrowed her eyes at the boxed lunch in front of him before directing the glare at him and walking back out.
'What was that about? Was she annoyed that I was eating when I could have been working more?'
Well, he may have had some random paperwork to do, reports from last week's side missions, but it never hurt to take a short break occasionally. Pre-Operation STRIX, he was the kind of man who gladly embraced the workaholic lifestyle. But he'd quickly learned that having to act as a parent had sapped some of his stamina in that regard. In the past, he had interacted with targets who complained about their families, lamenting the wealth of energy they had before they had kids to raise and spouses to support. That had been one reason why he could never see himself with a family – he felt that he was way too selfish to let anything get between him and his work, his mission, his eternal war against war.
But now that a family was his mission…he could at least understand where those targets were coming from.
The day passed swiftly and, as he had no side missions to attend to that day, Loid found himself heading home during the usual rush hour. On a day like this, he would usually walk home to avoid the trains, which would be full to bursting with the Berlint population commuting out of the city center. He always felt strange in the middle of crowds – he felt that direct suspicion was at its lowest when he was immersed in the flow of people, but having so many people behind him also raised his anxiety. It was all too easy, in a crowd, to sneak up on someone.
His gait on the streets was casual, but every step of his route was calculated. If there were no deviations, he would arrive home in 29 minutes exactly and, given the mundanity of his day, he expected no deviations.
He really should stop making assumptions…
As he passed by a bookstore, he caught the reflection of a woman standing inside, facing the window display with a book in her hand. She was wearing a red beret with the WISE eye stitched into the side, hidden among a larger design. The woman's hair was short and black, and her makeup was done to make her look about 5 years older, but he'd recognize those eyes anywhere.
'Handler? Why is she here?!'
He stopped and pretended to examine the display from the outside, lifting his hand to scratch his left ear in acknowledgement. She flipped three pages of the book. An order. She needed to speak with him immediately.
He raised an eyebrow. She scratched the right side of her nose twice, and then her eyebrow once.
This was about his current investigation into the Roches. He was to meet her at the park near the supermarket two blocks from here.
He shifted his briefcase from his right hand to his left and continued walking.
Message received.
XXX
He didn't have to wait too long.
The park in question was slightly sunken, with steps leading down, so he just sat, pretending to take a cigarette break. The park wasn't empty, there were a few people who had come to walk their dogs and play with kids, but nobody paid attention as the woman with the beret came up from behind and leaned against the stair railing across from him, pretending to search through her handbag.
"Nightfall trusts you too much," Sylvia Sherwood said, just loud enough for him to hear, "She takes what you say for granted and doesn't question you enough."
…That wasn't what he expected her to start with.
"I don't–"
"Whoever it was that attacked the Roches," she spoke past him, "they cut most of the phone lines to the apartment before the fire was set. Someone going to those lengths to target a single family would not be a petty arsonist. They wanted the Roches dead. But the Roches have been alive for a full year. Independent investigators watched them for weeks after the fire as well. Whoever it was would not be the type to hesitate once they realized their targets were alive."
He felt her gaze on him, but he refused to turn towards her.
"So maybe the idea that they wanted the family dead is wrong." He tried.
"True," Sylvia said casually, "Unless they thought they had eliminated their true target."
She was baiting him. He took another breath of smoke, and she sighed. He saw her cross her arms out of the corner of his eye.
"Twilight," she said more sternly, "I know you well enough to know that you came to the same conclusion, and yet you neglected to fully inform Nightfall. Why were unknown agents after Anya Forger?"
There it was. He extinguished his cigarette and tossed it in a nearby bin before finally glancing at her. Her hard expression softened as soon as they made eye contact.
"Is she currently in danger?"
Loid had forgotten the soft spot that his handler had for the girl. He'd be a dead man if he dared to suggest it was because Anya reminded her of her own dead daughter, but he appreciated that it was there all the same, no matter how much she would deny it out loud. At least someone at WISE didn't see the girl purely as a pawn.
"I don't know," he finally responded, "I have Nightfall investigating further."
"Does Anya know?"
Twilight hesitated, "She knew."
"So, she told you why she was a target?"
"Not…exactly…"
She sniffed in frustration, "I don't know why you're being so evasive with me. I shouldn't have to remind you that the efficacy of WISE operations relies on its agents being transparent with any pertinent information."
"It's not pertinent," he blurted before smacking himself internally. There was no need to annoy the Fullmetal Lady any more than she already was. She was definitely going to saddle him with particularly difficult side missions in the future as punishment!
"That would be for our analysts to decide," she countered, "You shouldn't be relying on your feelings –"
"There are no feelings," he retorted. Liar, that dark part of his mind said, "Anya did ask me not to tell anyone, but I made the decision on my own because it is a matter that I can control without outside assistance, and it has no bearing on our ability to hunt down any threats to STRIX."
Sylvia looked at him for a few seconds longer before directing her gaze back out to the green open space before them, "Very well. I trust your ability to think rationally on this. If you ever wish to tell me in future, I won't hold the delay against you. But if you're wrong, and this causes trouble, you will be reprimanded. At the very least."
"Fine."
She nodded. The conversation was over. She began walking towards a nearby woman with a dog, possibly to start some idle conversation while he slipped away.
"Take care, Twilight."
XXX
As it was still springtime, dusk was only beginning to settle as he reached the Forger home. Yor and Anya should both be home now, from work and school. However, he was met with silence as he turned the key and stepped over the threshold. The television was off and, while Bond came to greet him as usual, Anya was nowhere to be seen.
"Welcome home, Loid." Yor called from the sofa, already out of her work clothes and with a book in hand.
"Hi, Yor," he said back as he shucked off his outdoor coat, "Where's Anya?"
"In her room," she said. As he approached, he saw that she seemed nervous, "She wanted to get a head start on her homework before you got home to help her study. But…before you see her, can I…can I ask you something?"
The gift from Mr. Roche, that he had left on the side table, was on the coffee table in front of her. Open. The comic and toy pistol were on the table. That observation felt more ominous than it should be, but he put on an affable smile to encourage her to continue as he sat in his usual seat across from her.
At his feet, Bond suddenly perked up and looked between the two of them. He whined twice, before running to Anya's door. It was closed, so he pawed at it until she opened the door and let him in. The door closed again, and Loid turned back to Yor.
She chewed her lip for a second, "I'm really sorry to ask, and I'm sorry if you hate me afterwards, but it's been bothering me all day and I talked to my co-workers and they think I should talk to you and I just need to get it off my chest and –"
"Yor, Yor, calm down," Loid said, confused. 'Is this about her having gripes again?' "I've told you before, you can tell me, or ask me, anything."
Yor took a deep breath, then looked him straight in the eyes, more serious than he'd ever seen her.
And dropped another bombshell on his day.
"Is Anya really your daughter?"
Don't worry, our resident tsundere is not being cold to Anya on purpose, he's just still trying to juggle having to process things, being scared about feeling so vulnerable, trying to remain professional, wondering if he needs to be suspicious of her, and thinking of how to protect her. Loid is STRUGGLING!
All of Nightfall's jealousy is being misinterpreted, as usual.
And, of course, Handler knows her neurotic underling's routine so that she can confront him about the Very Important Information that he so kindly forgot to mention to his partner. Nothing gets past her!