We're back with a new chapter! Thank you so much to everyone for your patience, and thank you to those who read this story or left comments in my absence: 4lizzy2192, Blue Wolf blade 16, Gio, Psy-Kick, thank you all so much xxx
And because it's been a few months, here's a bit to catch you up...
Previously on SSS:
- Anya is still in hospital! Her condition is stable, but man, those painkillers are working overtime...
- Damian has watched the video. It's still in his room. In the meantime, he has come and paid a visit to his unconscious girlfriend.
- Suspicion is spreading about Anya. The Eden 6 are dealing with their own thoughts.
- Loid and Yor are alternating keeping guard over Anya in hospital.
- The Protector's past/role has not yet been confirmed.
- Anya will be legally 18 soon (timeline undefined), which she has been warned will come with a choice: privacy and protection, at the cost of giving up her identity and current life, or freedom, at the cost of being at the centre of a media storm.
- Not an update, but just a reminder: people's emotions and behaviour are complex, and don't always follow rational lines of thinking.
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Damian awoke some time later, not even remembering when or how he had dozed off.
As he blinked, his senses slowly coming back to him, Damian noted that he had moved in his sleep to nuzzle in her neck. Underneath the clinical smells of the hospital room, and the antiseptic inside Anya's dressing, the pink and green notes of strawberries and mint were sprinkled around her like dappled sunlight.
Anya's chest rose and fell with her gentle snores, a sound that he hadn't heard in a long time, but he knew without a doubt that he wanted to hear it for the rest of his life. With her eyes closed, she looked so peaceful, and he wanted to hold her face close all over again.
Damian stayed unmoving, his hand still on her waist, and after a moment, he realised that he felt lighter. It was always so much easier to sleep when he was next to her…
Anya continued to sleep, breathing evenly, while Damian carefully extricated himself from her side, after which he stood for a moment, watching over her sleeping form.
He leaned down and brushed her hair from her forehead, leaving behind a soft kiss.
"Come back soon," he murmured to her, although he knew that she wouldn't have been able to hear him.
He closed the door to her room behind him, holding the handle in such a way so that it wouldn't make a noise or disturb her, and when he turned towards the corridor he jumped out of his skin.
Because there was Dr Forger, looking extremely disgruntled, flanked by Damian's bodyguards.
"What's going on?" Damian demanded sharply, and Loid side-eyed Hugh.
"Someone said I wasn't allowed to see my daughter," he grumbled.
Damian turned to Hugh, his expression stony, and Hugh backtracked immediately.
"It might not have been him! He could have been a perpetrator in disguise!"
Damian wasn't even going to entertain the irony of that, especially knowing the truth of the man in front of him.
"He's her father," Damian huffed, and glanced apologetically at Loid. "I hope I didn't make you wait too long."
"It's alright," Loid sighed casually, and Damian wondered if he had just witnessed the practised charm of a former spy, rather than Loid's own thoughts.
Standing before his girlfriend's father, the man that he called 'Pops', Damian was suddenly hit by a wave of immense guilt.
Because how could he look her father in the eyes, the man that he respected so much, when his daughter was hurt because of him? When it was Damian's own fault that she had been hit and injured and nearly killed in the first place?
He barely remembered the aftermath of the gunshot, save for the visceral images of holding Anya's dying body, trying to stop the bleeding at any cost. But if Damian concentrated, if he tried, he could remember Loid's steady presence, staying with him the entire time.
If anything, it just made the guilt worse.
Damian shuffled his feet, not knowing what else to say to the man before him, and a few beats of awkward silence spread. Meanwhile, Damian could feel Loid staring at him, waiting for him to speak, but he just couldn't.
"I think there are a few things we should catch up about," said Loid gently, and Damian flinched.
"What's there to say?" he said reflexively, and regretted it almost immediately.
Loid's eyes flicked warily to Damian's two bodyguards, and Damian sighed in understanding, before giving a single nod to Loid.
"We'll talk in my office," said Loid casually, and held a door open. After a moment, Damian followed him inside.
"This is a cleaning closet," Damian hissed under his breath.
"It's the office of my trade," Loid replied casually with a raised brow, as if daring the boy to question him, while the bedraggled ends of a mop dangled between them. And then he had the audacity to cross his arms, as if Damian's words actually offended him.
Damian eyed the shelves above Loid containing rows upon rows of various types of cleaning fluid, while he tried to block the smell of ammonia from his nostrils.
An agonising mix of emotions rose in them, all far too confusing to parse from each other. There was guilt, and gratitude, and anger, and so many things that Damian couldn't quite make sense of. There was too much that rattled in his head and in his heart, that Damian wondered how he could ever begin to express it.
Together they rose in him, until eventually the words fell out of his mouth: "I'm sorry."
But it didn't seem to have the effect that he hoped for, because Loid looked so taken aback that he almost hit his head on the cleaning products behind him.
"What for?"
"It's all my fault," Damian rasped, unable to even make eye contact with the man in front of him. "If I didn't have a press conference, I would have never been targeted, and she would never have protected me. I should have been more careful, I should have…"
"It's not your fault," said Loid quietly, and to Damian's surprise, or relief, or both, he rested a warm hand on Damian's shoulder. "It's mine."
"What do you mean?" Damian blinked, his mind whirring. He couldn't wrap his head around it. "If I wasn't there, the gunman would never had shot-"
"It is my fault," Loid insisted, "because I was on the roof, and the gun was aimed at me, but I…"
He looked away in shame, and let his hand fall back to his side, leaving the absence of warmth on Damian's shoulder.
"I jumped out of the way."
Damian stared at him blankly.
"I don't understand."
For a moment, Loid looked at Damian as if he were examining him; possibly, he was wondering how much Damian already knew, and how much he should tell him. Damian remembered that look from when he confronted him about his father, and about his suspicions of Loid not being a real psychiatrist. (Although, he would never have imagined the true extent of Loid's deceptions.)
What Loid said next knocked the wind from his lungs.
"Forget what you've heard from the papers. It wasn't an attempted assassination," Loid said as he lifted his gaze to Damian's, his eyes heavy. "It was an accident."
A deep breath, a heavy look, and all the words came pouring forth. Everything that Damian had been missing from the narrative was finally - finally - revealed to him.
Loid told Damian the full story, the same one that he had described to Adrian and Yuri when they questioned him: that Anya had sensed a potential perpetrator, and without knowing what their full plan was, came to Loid for help.
As Damian listened, his eyes widened further and further, as all of the pieces began to fit together, making terrible sense.
"So it… wasn't my fault?"
"No. Never."
"And they weren't after me?"
"Not as far as I could tell."
But it was still a shock to Damian, as he needed a bit more time to come to terms with the truth of it.
Of course it was a shock to the system, after what had happened, when he was so utterly convinced that he was solely to blame for all the events that unfolded: the bombs at the school, the calculated attack, the fact that Anya was hurt because of him…
He stayed silent, and kept his head down, noticing distantly in his mind just how close his feet were to the cleaning buckets. If he shuffled his feet any closer, it would be all too easy to kick them down.
Again, Damian steadied himself.
"So you're telling me that it wasn't an organised attack? That it wasn't… even an assassination?"
On some level, Damian was aware that he was repeating himself, but he didn't care. Not if it meant being sure of the new information that he was being told.
"No," Loid clarified. "But my guess is that it's easier for the press to let the public believe that it was, because otherwise the truth would be too difficult for people to understand, and they wouldn't want to cause a panic. Nobody likes uncertainty."
"Huh," said Damian. He tried to wrap his mind around it. "So then how is it that Anya was the one that… got hurt…."
(Because saying out loud that his girlfriend was shot was far too much.)
"I gave Bond orders to stay with her while I infiltrated the school to neutralise the threat, but when I left, he gave her a vision. The vision showed that you would be killed-"
"Killed?" choked Damian, and he almost forgot to breathe afterwards.
"But," Loid continued, ignoring Damian's interruption, "since Bond's vision occurred after I entered the school grounds, I suspect it was inevitable that I would encounter the assailants, and set things into motion to bring Bond's vision into reality."
Damian tried to take it in.
It was hard to imagine. Somehow, because Loid had entered the school grounds, that had cemented Anya's fate…?
"So if it wasn't an assassin," he said slowly, "then who fired the gun?"
Again, it was clear that Loid was puzzling over how much he should reveal to the young Desmond scion. After all, there was no real reason that he needed to know: but of course, Anya was involved. Damian wouldn't accept silence as an answer when it came to her.
Loid's posture sagged, in the manner of a man who knew that there was no use hiding from the determined boy in front of him.
"A masked man known as the Protector," said Loid quietly.
A jolt of recognition sparked through Damian like electricity.
Protector. Investor. Director. It couldn't have been a coincidence. There was clearly a pattern.
Seeing the realisation in Damian's eyes, Loid continued:
"We still don't know what their goal was. All we know is that he and another unidentified assailant were storing weapons in the school buildings, several buildings away from your own press conference. I tried to intervene, but…"
He didn't need to elaborate.
"Storing weapons," Damian repeated thoughtfully, trying to put the gears of his mind into work. "Why store them in the school? Unless…"
"Perhaps they were preparing for a later date," Loid added.
Damian thought back to the day of the press conference. "There was extra security at the relevant gates, which could mean that the school would have had to redistribute security from the back gates. If the assailants knew this in advance, they could have planned to use this to their advantage to infiltrate."
"And they would have thought to use the increased crowd to cover their movements," Loid finished. "That must be why they chose the day of the press conference. It was an advance operation."
Damian clenched his fist.
"But they got away?"
Loid nodded. "I'm afraid so."
"How?" Damian exclaimed, growing exasperated. "How could you let that happen? Aren't you supposed to be good at this kind of thing?"
"My specialty is in retrieving information," Loid raised his eyebrows coolly, almost impressed by Damian's audacity. "And if he were any ordinary soldier, it wouldn't have been too difficult to track and apprehend him. But he's not just related to the project - he's a survivor of it. Or, we think so."
A chill went down Damian's spine. "What do you mean?"
It was clear that Loid didn't want to say the next part, but there were a few seconds of silence, during which all Damian could do was wait while Loid gathered himself.
"During our fight, the Protector seemed… too agile," he recalled, his eyes narrowed in remembrance and contemplation. "Too fast and too strong for an ordinary human, and he was able to catch up to me across rooftops with ease. Which, I tell you, is no small feat."
Damian stayed silent, half-wondering what Loid was about to say, and half-fearing that he already knew.
"Adrian confirmed it. The Protector is a successful experiment from a previous Project, and a trained super soldier."
"There was a previous Project?" Damian said incredulously. The thought made him feel sick. The thought that there were more children that had been experimented on, more than he had realised, and the images from Anya's video came back to him with full and sudden force.
No, he really thought he was going to be sick.
"I wouldn't have believed it myself," said Loid slowly, "if it weren't for Adrian's contribution, and if I hadn't seen the Protector with my own eyes. But it appears that telepathy wasn't the only ability that the lab was working to foster, and there was a previous generation of test subjects used to research psychokinesis."
"Psychokinesis," Damian repeated flatly.
"Yes."
"Like… moving objects with your mind?"
"Yes."
"You'd better be joking." Damian closed his eyes wearily. Rubbed both hands over his face. He wished there was a seat inside this godforsaken cleaning closet, to just sit down when it felt like the world was spinning around him.
"It… took me a while to get my head around it too," said Loid, almost apologetically, if Damian wasn't imagining it.
"So let me get this straight," Damian cleared his throat, trying desperately to align the pieces in his head. "Anya is in hospital right now, because a mysterious telekinetic man from the same lab that experimented on her was trying to… put weapons in Eden Academy, which I still don't understand the purpose of, but because you tried to intervene, he tried to chase you down, tried to shoot you, but somehow because you entered the school Bond got that vision, and she saw it, and because you jumped out of the way, Anya was the one that was hurt, and that's the entire reason that she is hospital now?"
"That about covers it."
It occurred to Damian, then, that maybe he had got everything wrong from the start.
He thought back to the argument that he had with Anya; when her betrayal shattered him, and he never gave her a chance to explain.
He thought about Anya's mission; that she was supposed to get close to him, in order to get close to his father. He had never asked her about that, did he? Damian assumed that it was the only reason that any got close to him at all, but that couldn't be true, could it? Damian knew himself just how much Anya risked for him on a daily basis. All the times that she had protected him. All the times that she had saved him. That had to count for something, right?
Plus, it should have never been her mission. She wasn't even a real spy, for crying out loud! Anya was never even supposed to know. How could Twilight have known that a five-year-old girl was following his every unspoken order?
And he hadn't forgotten her panic attack, on the night that she crawled through his window during a storm. He remembered her overwhelming guilt, and the terrible shame that consumed her until she broke and it was Damian left holding all the pieces of her. He remembered her dream she had that night, the one that he had accidentally seen: of the day she confronted her father, for putting her in such a difficult situation in the first place, and for forcing her to make an impossible decision.
Damian already knew all of this. He knew, and he understood. And it was exactly why it hurt so much.
As Damian regarded Loid more and more, the anger in him came back with a vengeance, because this whole time he had been angry at Anya, but he was actually angry at the wrong person.
It wasn't Anya's fault. None of it was. Because it wasn't her fault that she was a telepath; that she was adopted by a Westalian spy as a child; that she felt she had to help him complete his mission in order to earn a place in the family. In order to earn her parent's love. After all, hadn't Damian been working towards the same thing for his whole life? Did that really make them any different at all?
And of course, the person that orchestrated it all…
It might have been Damian's father that was the Investor, but it was Anya's father that set everything into motion. He was the one who unknowingly put pressure on her for twelve years, unknowingly driving her to finish a mission that wasn't even hers.
His father was right, he realised bitterly. Anya did blind him.
Because for all the time that he had spent being angry at her, they could have actually been enjoying their time together. He had spent his whole life secretly nurturing a crush on her, one that would eventually turn to love, and ever since they had become an official couple, there had been nothing but conflicts and challenges that they both had to work through together.
And this was the first time that they were navigating something alone. It was… it was all wrong. It was never supposed to be like this. Damian hadn't spent all this time daydreaming about what it would be like to be with Anya Forger, only to turn his back on her like this.
He should have known that being a couple was so much more about going on dates, or being able to kiss, or hold hands. It was about being a team. It was about being partners.
How could he have forgotten?
Damian's anger towards Anya simmered, and rose in the face of Loid.
"You shouldn't have done that," Damian growled and Loid's head snapped up.
"It's because of you that she's like this," Damian said earnestly, even though it was so frightening to face his girlfriend's father in this way.
To his absolute surprise, Loid didn't rise to the obvious barb, and instead, hung his head in shame.
"I know."
"She only tried to help you with your mission because she was scared of what would happen to her if she didn't!"
"I know."
"It's because of you that she's been hiding all of these secrets!"
"I know."
"Anya's been trying to protect all of us this whole time, especially you, and where did that get her!"
"I know."
Without Loid pushing back, Damian quite quickly found himself running out of steam, and it only frustrated him even more.
"You really aren't going to disagree?"
"Do you want me to?" Loid eyed him coolly.
Or… no. Maybe 'cool' wasn't the right word.
On closer inspection, it was obvious to Damian that Loid wasn't being calm, or as cool as he thought. In fact, if he really opened his eyes, he could see the dark undereye circles that only seemed to drag his face down, making him look tired and heavy. The guilt and crushing sorrow plagued him, even to the extent that his normally relaxed posture appeared now more lifeless and forlorn.
Damian felt his own shoulders sag in response.
Part of him wanted a fight, the anger inside him was certainly potent enough, but seeing the despondence of the man in front of him, Damian lost the will.
"Not really," he mumbled, somewhat embarrassed.
"There you go then."
The walls of the closet were stifling. The clutter on the walls oppressed him. Ammonia singed his nostrils, and Damian fought the wild urge to sneeze.
"I think we're done here," he said. (He didn't mean to sound authoritative on purpose, somehow it just came out that way when he wasn't really trying.)
Damian pushed his way out of the closet, with Loid following close behind, and the inquiring faces of Hugh and Paul greeted him.
Hugh straightened up, clearly using the opportunity that Damian wasn't around to lean against the wall beside Anya's door, while Paul remained rod-straight and attentive.
"Sir," said Hugh with a respectful nod.
"Lord Desmond," Paul acknowledged him formally.
Damian sighed, not bothering to comment on their greeting, and turned to Loid for a final time.
"What did the doctors say about Anya's recovery? When will she be able to be discharged?"
"We're expecting that she'll be discharged in a few more days, to take the rest of her recovery at home."
Damian nodded once, just to show that he had taken it in. Then, the uncertainty came back in full force.
Where did he and Anya stand with each other? He didn't know, and couldn't even guess. It had been so long since they had last talked properly, he was almost afraid to see her again. Damian was half-sure that he had used up the dregs of his courage just to visit her in hospital.
Even then, they still hadn't talked properly, because she was under the influence of painkillers and sleep-deprivation. What if she woke up properly and never wanted to see or speak to him again? What if she didn't remember that he had come to see her? Or worse, what if she did remember, and hated him for it? After all, didn't he just lie next to her for hours while she was barely aware of it?
Damian raised his gaze to the man in front of him. Loid Forger. Or, 'Pops', depending on how he was feeling.
What would happen to them now? Damian hadn't even realised how much he came to rely on the older man's guidance, until he could no longer go to him. Without Anya, how could he face Loid, the man that Damian so admired, without feeling any kind of resentment?
And now, knowing what he did, how could Damian still move forward at all?
Loid seemed to sense Damian's hesitance, and to Damian's relief, he spoke first:
"We'll call you when we bring her home."
Damian's throat tightened, and he nodded again, wishing he could express the depth of his appreciation without having to blink back tears.
He cleared his throat. "I'll send over some additional security personnel to keep watch with you. That way, you can at least get a coffee when you need it."
Loid blinked with surprise. And if it wasn't Damian's imagination, his eyes took on a subtle sheen, reflecting back the white lighting of the hospital corridor. "That would be very much appreciated, Damian."
"It's not a big deal," mumbled Damian, as he fought the blush no doubt rising up his neck.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the smallest of smiles raise the corners of Loid's mouth, before he then followed up:
"Since the school's closing, I presume I'll be able to reach you at your apartment?"
Damian shook his head. "I sold it. I'm still looking for another place that's more… private."
"Ah," Loid said, nodding. He probably remembered the crowd of reporters that had camped outside for weeks on end. "I understand. If you like, I can help you look around for a new place?"
"Thanks, Pops," said Damian - not realising what he had said until the words had already fallen out of his mouth.
He avoided Loid's eyes awkwardly, and cleared his throat again.
"You can contact me at the Desmond residence," he said eventually. "Unfortunately, there's something I have to take care of."
Inwardly, Damian groaned at the thought of it. There was so much work to be done, but his mother was right. It was time to step up as the leader of the Desmond family. It was time to seize back his responsibilities.
It was time to go home.
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Wow, guys. It's weird being back.
Thank you all SO much for your patience while I was on break. I can't tell you how encouraging it was for me to see all of your wonderful support, and also your kind well-wishes. It made me look forward to writing again, because all I want to do is deliver this story to you.
It's been an incredible and emotional few months, and for those wondering, I had the most lovely wedding, I felt amazing, it went the absolute smoothest it could have possibly gone, all my family were VERY well behaved, and the honeymoon was the best 3 weeks of my life. I went to Mexico, Belize, and Portugal, and I wish being on honeymoon was my real job. And mr lassify is now mr lassify for REAL. I have a husband! 💍
I got back a few weeks ago, went back to work, and tried to get back into writing. It's like going back to the gym after a long break. The metaphysical writing muscles had atrophied and I struggled to remember how to do it! But, such is the value of practice, and I'm looking forward to resuming this journey again with all of you!
Next chapter: Saturday 7th December 2024