Happy Friday! Thank you all for your lovely messages, reviews, PMs/DMs, as always. I can't tell you how much I appreciate them!

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Damian had never been to the Christmas market before, for a multitude of reasons. Usually, this time of year he was busy with exam season, and for the last four years he had also been an Imperial Scholar, and therefore automatically on the planning committee for the Imperial Ball. He just didn't have the luxury to leave the school grounds, nevermind participate in festivities. As a member of elite society, what need did he have for frivolous affairs like Christmas markets? Why would he need a special excuse to go to the ice rink there when he could hire out an entire ice rink for himself if he wanted to? Why would he need to get hot chocolate in a paper cup when he could go to a nice cafe and have one there? (But if he was being really honest, he had not been at the stage of his life where he could bump into Anya in public and be calm about it. Avoiding her was the best strategy.)

But seeing the lights flashing before him, lighting up the sky and the hearts of everyone who witnessed it, Damian had never regretted anything so much. It was just like the art installation from the school trip - multicoloured lights dazzled and sparkled all around him, bathing everything in a wonderful glow. Especially her eyes. The way that the signs and lights from the rides lit up her eyes like fireworks, and cast her skin in an ever-changing glow, was something that he wanted to memorise and hold in his heart forever.

Distant laughter and screams of joy emanated from the side of the fair that had the traditional fairground rides; the ferris wheel, the carousel, and a mini roller coaster for parents to quietly distract their children with while they sipped at their glühwein. There was even an ice rink with a crowd of people swirling around like a coordinated whirlpool. Combined with the colours and the noises of the various food stalls and gift shops, it could have been overwhelming, but to Damian it was dazzling.

It would have been perfect, if it weren't for the dark feeling that had pooled in his stomach, trickling through his body, right down to his toes and his fingertips. It didn't help that he had already had some wine, courtesy of the Forger's lovely hospitality, combined with a sizable amount of whisky (courtesy of Damian's impulsive actions). He grimaced to himself, and hoped that Dr Forger would forgive Damian for stealing his drink.

After the explosion of secrets that took place in Anya's home, it was a shock to the system to be at the Christmas fair. He had no doubt that Anya probably wanted to help him to feel better, wanted him to have a reason to smile, but Damian didn't know how to fully set aside his discomfort to try and enjoy the moment with her.

His heart wanted to spend time with Anya, go on a real date with her, like they had never had the chance to do, but his mind screamed at him. What did he think he was doing? Didn't he have more important things to do right now? Like actually talk about everything, and ask about Anya's father -

Anya shivered, and Damian immediately drew his attention to her.

"You're cold," said Damian, not as a question but as a fact.

"Oh no, I'm fine!" Anya smiled at Damian, but it lacked the warmth that she had before, and to his horror, he noticed that her coat pockets were too small for her to fit her hands in comfortably. Her bare hands were exposed to the frigid night air, and must be getting collider by the second.

How did he not realise it before? Anya had practically leapt out of the apartment with her coat and her shoes, but very little winter wear. He was lucky that he kept his gloves and scarf tucked into his pockets.

"You should have said something," Damian admonished her gently, ignoring her protests. "Here," he said, and passed her both of his gloves.

She held them for a moment in her hands, staring at them dumbly. "But you'll get cold!" She couldn't help but worry.

"I'll be fine," said Damian, but it didn't convince her in the slightest.

"Alright, since you're being dumb about it," Anya pouted. "We'll both wear them!"

"We'll both- huh?!" Damian swivelled to her, confused.

"Like this," Anya huffed, and pulled one glove over her hand, and then gave the other to Damian, indicating for him to put it on.

He silently and cautiously obliged, wondering what her plan was, but as soon as he put the glove on, she grabbed his other hand, and tucked it into his large pocket along with her own.

"There," she grinned at him. "Now I can hold your hand, and we can both be warm."

Despite the cold air, heat rushed to his face. He would never tire of how damn cute she was, but he couldn't ignore how utterly unprepared she was for the chill. So, he wasn't in full control of his feet when they had both made it to one of the stalls.

"Two hot chocolates please," he found himself saying, and after handing over the payment, he thrusted the first paper cup into Anya's gloved hand.

"Here," he mumbled. Maybe the warm drink would help to settle his stomach, and warm them both from the inside.

Anya took it gratefully, with a small blush on her face. She held her hands around it and sighed deeply, setting the warmth soak through her fingers. Steam curled in wisps above it.

"Is that better?" asked Damian.

"Mm-hmm," Anya nodded sweetly. "Thank you."

Her eyes widened when she took a small sip. "Oh that is really good!"

"Don't drink it too fast, it's supposed to keep your hands really warm," Damian murmured as he took his first sip, but then the sugary drink gave him pause. "Although, I get the feeling it's not going to last long…"

They held the cups as they walked slowly through the market, and while Anya pointed excitedly at the stalls and smiled at the people and gaped at the food, Damian watched Anya, as he always did.

Aways so beautiful. Always so cheerful, and he always wondered how she did it, but now he wondered even more. Anya had been hiding so much from the world, protecting herself and all of her family members at the same time. To him, it seemed like a burden that must have been too heavy to bear, and yet she had carried the secrets of her family through all this time.

But maybe because of the alcohol, Damian felt a little different. He felt bolder than usual, even walking with more purpose, and his thoughts had finally managed to slow down, for once not spinning through his mind at the speed of light. He wasn't used to the feeling, but in this case, he didn't mind it too much. The way to surprise a telepath was to act without thinking, after all.

"Let's go over there," he blurted, and pointed in the direction of a random pathway in front of them.

Anya followed the line of where he pointed, and her eyes lit up.

"I haven't been on a ferris wheel in years!"

"Great," Damian breathed in relief. "Same here."

Damian was about to reach for Anya's hand, but she grabbed him first, and dragged him towards the ferris wheel with stars in her eyes.

And for the first time, it did nothing to ease the tension building inside of him.

The attendant opened the gate for them, and they stepped inside the small pod, just big enough to sit four people on benches facing each other, and definitely private enough to not be overheard.

Anya sat down first and scooched along, expecting him to sit beside her, but he carefully lowered himself onto the opposite bench, all the while trying not to spill his own drink, and pointedly ignoring her confused expression.

The door closed behind them, and the pod moved along, lifting them both into the air in a slow ascent, and Damian took a deep, steadying breath.

"Can we talk?"

Can we talk?

Anya's stomach had never plummeted so fast in her life.

She clutched the hot chocolate in her hands, at once grateful that he had bought it for her to warm her up, and nervous that he now had her alone, and he clearly had things he wanted to say to her in private.

He looked hopeful rather than angry, which only made her feel worse. He had every right to be angry with her, especially after everything that she had hidden from him. (And everything she still had yet to tell him - but she couldn't think about that now.)

At least he still wanted to talk. He hadn't run away, or shouted at her - all of those were good signs, right?

Anya sighed in resignation. "What do you want to know?"

Damian held his drink with both hands as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and the melancholic shift in his demeanour made her sweat.

"When were you going to tell me?"

"Tell you…" Anya spoke before her mind had caught up. "About… my mother?"

"About everything," Damian said, his voice tight and controlled. "You've been lying all this time, about yourself, about your whole family and I… I get that you wanted to protect them, but…"

He gulped. "I thought that we were-" but he choked at the last word, unable to finish the sentence that head started.

"Friends," Anya finished for him, and the guilt swirled through her.

"Yeah," Damian rasped, and he flicked his gaze away from her.

Anya stared into her hot chocolate, watched the lights from the ferris wheel shimmer in the reflection of the liquid. As the ride lifted them further from the ground, the lights shifted and moved, and the view of the markets spread out before them, like an enchanted map.

She didn't know how to answer his question, and after an uncomfortable length of silence, Damian decided to take a different angle.

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

"I…" Anya tried to push her voice out of her, but suddenly it felt too hard, like it had ballooned in her chest, and trapped itself in her throat. "I don't know."

Her admission stunned him into silence of his own, and Anya forced herself to look up from her drink, into the eyes of the boy sitting opposite. Her boyfriend, the love of her life, the person that she undoubtedly loved, and trusted with so many secrets - but the kinds of secrets she had couldn't be easily entrusted to just anybody.

"It wasn't my secret to tell," Anya whispered, hoping that Damian would accept it, but deep inside she knew that it wasn't enough for him.

"It's not just that, though," Damian choked out, his voice becoming ever smaller. "You never told me about you, or about what happened to you. I had to find that out from Adrian."

Anya couldn't even speak as he kept his gaze on her, steady and unflinching, despite the sadness in his eyes.

"You know that you could trust me, so why? Why did you hide it from me?"

Anya closed her eyes and shook her head. "It was too hard - you wouldn't understand."

"I want to understand," said Damian softly. "Please."

She wanted to cry. Why couldn't he just be angry at her? She deserved so much worse than how he was treating her, but it just proved that Damian was truly kind, kinder than anyone would ever know.

If anyone deserved the truth, it was him, but Anya had neer been more conscious of the remaining secrets that she still had to hide, had to work to protect.

Anya let out a shuddering breath. "Do you remember when I told you that I'm adopted?"

Damian nodded briefly. It was a day that he would not forget easily.

"I haven't told anybody this, but…" She hesitated. "Before Papa took me in, I was adopted by four different families."

Whatever Damian was expecting to hear, it was not this.

"Four…?"

"They always knew that something was wrong with me," Anya rasped, and though she tried to keep her voice steady, it wobbled without her permission. "I was too weird. I always knew too much. They thought I was creepy, or haunted, or possessed… and every time, they would take me back."

Damian stayed quiet, hearing her out.

"I was rejected four times, because I wasn't normal, because I'm- I'm a freak," Anya choked out. "So when Papa adopted me, I knew I had to keep it a secret, no matter what. I just thought… I thought if I kept that part of me hidden, if I never told anyone, then I wouldn't have to worry anymore. I wouldn't have to be afraid of going back."

"You were just a child," Damian whispered, and the shock and disbelief was clear in his voice and on his face.

"Which is why I couldn't afford to mess up," Anya finished. "I could have lost everything."

"Which is why you shouldn't have had to keep it a secret! Parents are supposed to protect you," Damian gasped as though his breath was being ripped apart from him. "Friends are supposed to protect you."

"Damian, I didn't mean - it's not that, it's just-" she tried to find the words. "It wasn't… personal," she finished eventually. "It wasn't just you. I wasn't going to tell anybody." Anya tried to stress the last word, and Damian understood.

"Not even your parents," Damian finished for her. "But I could have… If you just gave me a chance - "

"I couldn't risk that!" Anya cried out. "I told you my other secrets because I wanted to get close to you, I wanted to be friends - maybe more than friends, even back then, but think about it. If I told you that I could read minds, would you have believed me? What would you have done?"

She kept her eyes level to Damian, with a look that could have seen through his very soul. "What did you do when you found out about me?"

Damian opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again as he tried to remember, and with a jolt of shame it came flooding back to him.

He ran away.

Unable to deal with the information presented to him, he had run from the room, leaving Yor to draw out the final pieces of information to try to rescue Anya. But as Damian remembered more, hope started to rise in him once again, because he was focusing on the wrong thing.

"I came back," Damian gasped, and it hit him. "I did run away, because I needed to think about things, but after that, I came back."

When he met Anya's eyes once again, he could tell that his realisation had hit her, too. Maybe she expected him to say something along the lines of 'I freaked out', or that he ran away (as he initially did), but both of them momentarily forgot about what truly mattered.

"So, you can trust me, because I came back," Damian repeated, and this time, he was directing his speech to Anya. "Because I'll always want to come back to you. Because you're the person that I care about most in the world."

Anya blinked, and instantly Damian noticed the shine to them, the way that her eyes reflected all the lights of the Christmas fair, and he realised that they had become glossy with unshed tears. And the way she looked at him…

So full of hope, and some kind of anticipation, although Damian didn't know yet what for, but he braced himself. He had more to say, and he felt encouraged by both the alcohol, and the light dancing in her eyes.

Anya's heart tightened in her chest, as Damian put down his hot chocolate, and crossed the short distance over to her, where he squeezed into the tight space next to her, and when it became clear that he didn't know what to do with his hands, Anya put her drink to the side, and gave him the opening he needed to fold his fingers through hers. The heat of his palm seared her hand.

"Because I have spent too long wanting to get to know you better - and wishing that I wasn't such a coward so I could just talk to you like… like a normal person…"

It was an effort for Anya to remember to breathe. How could she have forgotten? She knew that Damian had liked her for a long time. Even when they were kids, she sensed his curiosity, sensed his desire to approach her, but his fear was too big for him to ignore, and she kept on believing that she couldn't confide in anyone.

But they weren't kids anymore. She had been trying to open up to him, she had tested the waters with the 'lower level' secrets, and he never pushed her away, even though she was originally trying to get closer to him because of -

Because of -

And then it hit her like a truck, all over again.

Operation Strix.

The poison in her life that she couldn't get rid of, that somehow always seemed to come back to haunt her, and wrench her apart again and again and again.

Nothing about them was normal, had ever been normal. Not even Damian, although he didn't even know that yet. He didn't even know that his father played a part in her childhood, and that of so many others, too many to count. He didn't know that his father was being investigated, or that he was the target of a decade-long operation.

She thought of that night in the rain, when she had begged her father to let her warn Damian about his father, when she cried in his shower and he held her, not even knowing the reason for her distress, but comforting her all the same.

He deserved to know. She couldn't say it. He deserved to know. It wasn't her place. Would he believe her for this? Would it be the final secret to push him over the edge?

She tried to push the confession out, but to her surprise, something else came out instead:

"I'm not a normal person, Damian. I know you're trying with me and I really appreciate it but, could you…" She gulped, and raised her gaze to his, imploring him. "Could you accept that my family isn't normal? That I'm not normal?"

It was not what she meant to say, and though she had no idea what Damian expected, it was clearly not that.

"Oh," he said, and he took a moment to compose himself before lifting his face to hers fully. "Well, I mean, I knew that you weren't normal. So…"

Clearly he needed a little more time to think of what he could say about Anya's family, but to her horror, Anya vaguely realised that she was shaking. She pulled back her trembling hand from his, and self-consciously wrapped her arms around herself.

"It's not just my… personality. I'm a lab rat, a product of human experimentation, I can read minds, I don't know anything about what normal people do or what it's like to be in a normal family and have normal friends, and even though you came back, you came to get me, I'm still not safe. Being around me, being close to me, is too dangerous, and," she sniffed, "I'm just going to end up hurting you!"

"Hurting… me?" Damian was incredulous.

Tears burst to her eyes, and she thought of his father, of the Director, of the kidnappers and the scientists that he fought alongside her parents. The more she thought about it, the more she knew that it was a miracle that they had already made it this far.

"What if you got hurt? What if something awful happened to you, and it was because you're close to me?"

"It'll be fine!" he spluttered. "We've been through worse things, Anya. Whatever happens, we'll deal with it!"

Maybe he was only trying to reassure her, but it wasn't enough. Her heart twisted in her chest and though she knew she shouldn't say it, Anya resorted to the only thing that she knew he cared about more viscerally than he cared about her.

"Is that what I'll say to your parents when you get hurt and I have to explain what happened to you? That we thought it would be 'fine'?"

In a way, she was right, and Damian's hackles were instantly raised, but he looked far more angry than she expected.

"Don't bring my parents into this! You know they don't give a shit about me, and I don't give a shit about them, either!"

"That's not true!"

"You don't know that, you don't know them! You've never even met them!"

"So introduce me! I can tell you for sure - and I bet I'll make a charming impression!"

"Fine! I will!"

A pause, as both hoped that their voices didn't carry beyond the sealed pod that arced through the night air.

"Why are we shouting about this?!"

"I dont know!"

Without meaning to, Damian and Anya leaned back from each other, in an effort to recover from the strange tension that had suddenly erupted between them. Both needed some time to catch their breaths, but it was Damian that spoke first:

"I'll make my own decisions, Anya."

"But, your par-"

"That's enough!" Damian burst out, and the sharpness in his tone surprised both of them.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap, I just-" he sighed a ragged breath. "Just don't even talk to me about them. I don't want to think about them. I already decided that I don't care what they think," he confessed, and once he started, Damian found that it was hard to stop, and the words came pouring out of him.

"A long time ago I worried, I worried so much, about everything, for years, I second-guessed everything I did, as if that did any good, as if anything I did mattered to them, but what you don't understand is that I can't care about what they think and be in love with you at the same time because it's just not possible!"

Anya couldn't breathe, so suddenly, that the pain of it flared in her chest, and she wondered if she would ever breathe normally again. It dawned on her then that since the beginning of the school year, since the genealogy presentations, he had not mentioned his family or his parents even once. Had barely even thought about them.

Or… he had. Once. In the Forger's living room, when he invited her to the Imperial Ball, and she asked if his father would attend. All the life had drained from his eyes, and his mind filled with a static so sharp and coarse that it terrified her.

He used to admire his father so much. He used to be so full of love for his mother.

What happened? What did they do?

A long second passed, and Damian's eyes widened as he realised what he had just said. What he had given away.

"I'm sorry," he croaked, and he looked genuinely apologetic. "For raising my voice, but, please, don't - don't talk about them like that. Like they actually care. And besides," he continued, avoiding eye contact with her. "I already made my choice. I decided that I could spend my whole life trying to live up to their expectations, trying to win, and get achievements, and Stella Stars, and do what they say, with no hope of ever feeling like they…"

He let the sentence trail off before he raised his gaze to hers, finally, and gulped.

"Or I could choose to see what I had in front of me the whole time. Someone who saw me, someone who supported me, someone who actually cared, who made me smile, who made me feel safe, and like everything was right with the world. I could choose-"

His voice became choked with tears. "I could choose to spend my life with you."

Tears burst to her eyes, and the pain in her chest burned and burned, and she tried desperately to think of something to say, but it felt as though all the air had been sucked from her lungs, and she was momentarily speechless.

"You were always there," he whispered. His thumb brushed against her knuckles. "You comforted me when no-one could, you reached out when I felt like everyone in the world had turned their back on me. You make me feel like - like I actually matter."

He squeezed her hand tightly, and Anya could have fallen apart from the look of desperate longing in his eyes, like he, too, was doing everything he could to hold himself together. More tears slid down his face, landing against her fingers.

Or were they her tears? She couldn't tell, and she didn't want to look away.

"So, yes, I can accept that you're not normal," he laughed weakly, "because I'm not normal, either. I'm a Desmond. I'm…"

He couldn't say the words, but they clawed at his mind, tugged at his throat.

Broken. Weak. Worthless. Unloveable.

"Damian, no," she pleaded with him, seeing the words bubble in his mind and rise to the surface, and if her heart was in pain from all the pain of the day, it was nothing compared to seeing him like this. So vulnerable. So heartbroken. He didn't deserve it.

"You're none of those things." She grasped weakly at his shirt, trying to pull him towards her. "Come here, come here…"

She embraced him tightly. If she could, she would climb into his mind and soothe away the worries. She wanted to wipe away the awful things that he secretly believed about himself, and plant something new, something beautiful. She held onto him, desperately, wishing that her touch could convey to him that he deserved so much better than the cards handed to him. He deserved the world, and all the light in it, and all the gentle touches and kind words that existence had to offer.

You matter so much, her heart sang. You are the most important person to me.

She didn't plan to give those words to him, but they rang true in her very soul.

Their father's faces flashed in her mind once again, and Anya's entire heart twisted as the tears stung her eyes.

Please.

Please always come back to me.

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Guys, this was such a tough chapter to write. So much going on their lovely little heads. So much has happened, so much is still to happen. It's a real mess over here. Damian and Anya are so strong and vulnerable with each other at the same time, and they need each other if they want to survive this.

I did have more planned for this chapter, but I thought it reached a natural ending at this point. So, next week we will return to the Forger residence where we will pick up the final pieces of the Forger Dinner Disaster, before moving on the next bomb. (You know a chapter is so chaotic when you need four more chapters just to clean up the mess it has left behind!)

Next chapter Saturday! (probably)