Chapter Text
It hit him the second he got back and closed the door behind him. A wave of exhaustion threatened to buckle him to his knees as he stood by the door, his grip on his briefcase slackening as he caught his head in his free hand. Loud cursed, not entirely sure if he kept it in his head, as the muffled voices of his pretend family greeted him. He forced himself into coherence, doing his best to keep upright.
“Sorry,” he managed through a forced smile, his vision slowly getting muddled, “a lot happened at work today.”
Yor stepped closer to him presumably to inspect if he was going to be okay. She opened her mouth saying something, Loid couldn’t quite catch. Against his will his body shut down entirely. The last shred of his consciousness faded away as he fell forward, crashing into his wife. She caught him in a panicked embrace, holding him up with an arm around his waist. Her free hand cradled the back of his head against her neck, muscles moving as she said more things he could no longer comprehend.
With that, Twilight, WISE’s best agent, sank into a peaceful oblivion
In the pool of darkness, he was at ease for the first time in a long time. He had been fighting and fighting and fighting for as long as he could remember — against an impoverished lifestyle, against wartime enemies, even now he was fighting to keep peace. Comfort was a luxury he could not afford, warmth was something he had lost long ago, and a home was something he would never again have. And yet, there he was. In the stillness, his mother held him in her arms and sang to him. He was just a little boy and the war hadn’t happened. She carried him around their house, promising a lifetime wherein he didn’t have to fight for anything, didn’t have to be anyone but himself.
Comfort, warmth and a home were things he had long since forsaken, and Twilight didn’t think for a second that they would ever be present in his life again when he opened his eyes.
He groaned, shifting in his bed when he felt the sun’s heat strike his face. His eyes strained to open, barely able to recognize the silhouette of the woman pulling open the curtains in the bedroom. She seemed familiar enough, her presence already quieting any panic that could possibly course through his body. Her absent-minded humming as she fussed about soon registered in his ears. Such a familiar, comforting tune that washed a wave of relief over him. Possibly due to the grogginess from feeling so impossibly sore, stuffy and hot, he wasn’t exactly too sure where he was.
Well, wherever he could be, it felt like home.
She turned to him with a start, as if something had caught her attention. Her footsteps were light, soundless. And yet, in a flash she was by his bedside. “You’re up,” she stated once she stood close enough to look over him, her voice barely above a whisper laced with a concern that filled him with a guilt he couldn’t quite describe. “How do you feel?”
“Like shit,” he answered honestly as he directed his gaze to shift from her to the ceiling. There was a moment of pause between them, the silence occupied by his strained breathing. He felt her shift beside him, a weight dipping by his shoulders as she leaned over him. One of her hands made contact with his forehead, tender and feather light as she felt for his temperature.
He saw her sigh in what seemed like relief as she pulled away from him. “Your fever seems to have gone down, at least.” And then her figured almost beyond his line of sight as she curled into a ball, her head on top of her arms that wrapped around the top of her knees. “I’m so sorry, Loid.”
Loid? Who on earth-
Ah, that’s right. His coherence returned to him in a sobering crash, head throbbing more so from being brought back to reality rather than his fever. This was not a home. At the very least, not his. It was Loid Forger’s, the fake identity he had created for the sake of a mission that he, Twilight, was meant to carry through to ensure the peace between two nations.
“I’ve failed you again,” the shame in her voice ran a heart-wrenching coldness through his pathetically incapacitated body. “I should have been more attentive to you.
If Twilight had the strength to laugh, he would have. Truly, it was absurd. He had gotten so careless that even rookies would do a better job than him. Repeatedly showing moments(opportunities, really) of vulnerability around others like so and, worse still, falling ill … If he were any less lucky, he would’ve been long dead. When? How? How did he become so relaxed? Of course, he already knew. The answer was right beside him.
Yor Briar Forger, the fake wife he took for the mission. Not that she was aware. As far as she knew, he was Loid Forger. And, though he refused to admit or even acknowledge it, sometimes the lines in his act blurred for him too. It was too easy. Whatever facade Twilight had would almost willingly, albeit subconsciously, fall away at her gentle and genuine warmth. Indeed, even her comforting presence was as powerful as her physical strength and, despite a few occasions where she most certainly could have grievously harmed him, it made him feel safe , of all things.
So, yes, it was almost terrifying how recklessly her let himself get used to her and her kindness. Even more terrifying was his awareness of the fact. In Spite of his myriad of justifications and rationalization, he was fully cognizant of the affection he held. Once he had recognized his pattern of behavior, it was hard not to know exactly what it was. He refused to name it however, lest he jeopardize everything. Even the moments he tucked away tenderly in his stubbornly defiant heart.
Twilight you’re a damned fool and a dumbass.
Still, his (Loid’s, as he usually reminded himself) wife had remained folded into herself at his bedside, undoubtedly mentally beating herself up for the state he was in. She had no such faults, he wanted to assure her. That he would cause her such distress and hurt was the least of his desires, even if, by all accounts, that was exactly where their story was heading.
But that was a problem for future Twilight. For now, he had to, well…
When was the last time his body felt so heavy? He cursed internally at his own failure in letting himself get so… unwell, slowly reaching out a hand that found its place atop his (truly, if only) wife’s head. She lifted her gaze to look at him, himself battling the ache in his body to meet her eyes. His hand moved to cup her cheek, thumb weakly wiping away the needless tears that fell from her.
“Not your fault, Yor,” he finally said. She opened her mouth to protest, not that he was going to let her. “I got carried away and paid the price. Really, I should be apologizing for causing you trouble.”
Yor blinked at him, brows furrowing. “You could never trouble me…” she trailed off, momentarily shifting her gaze before turning back to him. “Can I get you anything? Water? Food? I made some stew since,” her voice seemed to shrink then, “since it’s really the only thing I can cook without messing up.”
“That sounds great, I like your stew,” Twilight admitted, causing a small smile to form on her face which he still held, probably her first one since he fell unconscious. Like that, her expression tender as even the sun’s rays shone through the windows to envelope her, the light reflected in her eyes making them glow in a dream-like sunset, she was radiant. Suffocatingly so.
Yor’s beauty wasn’t anything new for him to acknowledge, he noted as much on their first meeting. In that moment, however, he was prompted to withdraw his hand as though it had been burned.
“I’ll go get you some then,” she said as he willed his lungs to work, standing to leave, “be right back.”
His bedroom felt about as stuffy as he did in her absence now that he was alone with his own consciousness and conscience. Briefly, Twilight thought about guilt-tripping his handler into giving him a break. She was the one over-working him with all the assignments after all, slave driver that she was. Although, he doubted he would make it out of that meeting alive. She probably would tell him that his recuperation was break enough. Then again, she surely wouldn’t want to lose an agent (their top one at that) to exhaustion of all things. At least, he hoped so. It was hard to tell with her at times.
Then he wondered about Anya, the daughter he had adopted for the mission. It was uncharacteristic of her to leave him alone, especially if he was sick. Twilight knew for a fact that she would be fussing about him with her mama, probably unintentionally causing a mess for Yor to have to clean up along the way. He sighed. What day of the week is it anyway? Depending on that, his daughter may be at school. In which case, Yor must have sent her off some time ago.
Anya’s probably worrying about me instead of paying attention in class… Twilight grumbled in frustration at his helplessness. She was only meant to be a tool to lead the progress of Operation Strix. But Anya was just a child, one among the many, many children he had sworn to make a bright future for. To treat her so heartlessly like he initially did left a foul taste in his mouth. In his mind, he could easily see her almost uncomfortably perceptive eyes looking at him. She always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking, always seemed to know just what to say in her attempts to reassure him. Little as she was, she saw right through him and read him for filth. He supposed that trait of hers itself was the leading cause in the lowering of his guard.
Twilight sighed, hands clasping together over his eyes. The more he thought about things, the less he wanted to. Maybe he had just become delirious from his fever.
Yeah, that sounds right.
Any further attempts to convince himself, to deny the existence of his feelings, halted and failed with Yor’s return. She walked in with a tray that she set down on his bedside table. “Let me help you up,” she said, not really giving him a chance to respond as she reached out to him. An arm slipped under him, a stable force in her palm as she pushed up at his back, easily lifting him. Once again, the side of his bed dipped at her weight, this time from her using her knee as support as she took his pillows and placed them vertically against his bed frame for his comfort, assisting him even in leaning him back.
“Thank you, Yor,” he said graciously. His voice was less hoarse and his body less heavy with the return of his coherence, but he appreciated her help still. In her arms, even if it was for a brief moment, he felt relief. Maybe it was due to her inherent physical strength, or maybe it was due to the caring nature of her touch — whatever it was, he felt eased by her support.
“It’s the least I can do,” she smiled at him as she handed him the bowl of stew she had prepared for him. It was fragrant, its flavor soothing him further. “You’ve been so accommodating of me, so very considerate, I…” Yor cut herself off, pausing to think of the words she wanted to say. “Our setup is pretty unconventional,” she laughed, perhaps at the absurdity of their circumstances. “Still, I want to do my best for you and Anya. Not just as thanks to you both, but also…” a redness crept up on her face, “but also because you’ve become so precious to me.”
Twilight’s eyes widened at her confession, gawking. His heart, having a mind of its own, leapt at her words as though he wasn’t still so very exhausted. Calm yourself, Twilight. She didn’t mean it like that . He tried, truly he did, to be rational, to put up walls on the spot, to say words he didn’t mean, words that would benefit the mission. However, nothing so calculated came to him. Not at that moment. Instead, before he could even stop himself, he spoke. “Yor, you…” the softness in his own voice was dizzying, “you’re precious to me, to us, as well.” He hoped that his addendum wouldn’t send her the wrong (right) message. “I’m not exaggerating when I say that you’re very much a part of this family. I couldn’t do this without you.” Twilight cursed at his own honesty. Not that he was able to stop himself.
His wife fidgeted with her hands, bashful. “I don’t think so, you’re doing a really good job with Anya.”
“Not at all,” he denied. “I felt like I was fumbling the whole time.” It was the truth. Though he loathed to admit it, he would undoubtedly be fully stumped about how to care for a child had he been on his own. “Only you could care for Anya and I like this, only you would be so dedicated. I would choose you everyday, Yor.”
Twilight wanted to cut his own tongue off. What was he saying? He was being unnecessarily open about his feelings. Feelings that he normally wouldn’t dare vocalize, much less develop. And yet, as Yor looked at him with stunned eyes, as her expression softened, he couldn’t fight the blush that took over him.
For once since he awoke, he was thankful for his fever. If only because it masked the redness from his own embarrassment.
Yor didn’t say much of anything else, not for a while. Her silence worried him, but at the same time he wasn’t entirely too sure he wanted her to say what was on her mind. If it was anything like he feared (like he desired) to hear, his fate would be sealed and that would be the end.
“Oh!” she exclaimed eventually, as if she’d just remembered something. “I should’ve mentioned this earlier, but,” she laughed sheepishly, “it kind of escaped my mind. You were only out for the rest of the evening. Anya’s currently at school, although I can’t imagine she’s doing too well. She was worried sick about you.”
The tension in his body left him, maybe leaving behind an uncomfortable disappointment that he swore wasn’t there. No sir.
Still, he was right about Anya. Although her lack of focus wasn’t good news, he was at least glad that she was okay, even if he felt bad for worrying her.
“And Bond?” For some reason his question made Yor giggle.
“He’s been dutifully standing guard at your door this whole time,” she said with an amused fondness. “We all want you to get better soon.”
Twilight couldn’t help his smile. “I’ll try my best.”
Another silence, much shorter and much less stressful this time. Yor spoke first once more. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ve also brought you some water, there’s some medicine on you bedside table and, um,” she trailed off, trying to remember any more reminders she had for him. “You can just call for me if you need anything else, I guess.”
She moved to leave him, albeit not permanently — not yet. A dreadful feeling rose up from him as he watched her turn in what felt like slow-motion. He didn’t want her to leave. Not ever. He had gotten so close to admitting his own feelings, not just to her, but also to himself. His walls were almost fully collapsed, mere dust on the ground. If he was ever going to be self-indulgent, this was the only time he could permit himself to be.
“Wait,” he pleaded before any sense of reason could stop him, his hand reaching to hold her own. Yor halted in her tracks, turning back to him in concern. Twilight almost felt bad. Almost. A shyness far more powerful than guilt took over him. “Can I ask you to stay? Here? I mean, in this room, not, not, like-”
Was he stuttering?
Good heavens, was he that sick?
Yor put her other hand on top of his, her smile breathtaking. “Okay.”
Comfort, warmth and a home were things he had long since forsaken, and Twilight never for a second thought he’d find them in the middle of a mission, of all places.