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Twilight’s stomach hurts the whole way home. Even once he’s ditched his disguise and slid back into the now-familiar role of Loid Forger, he can’t shake that queasy sick feeling.
Those SS soldiers must’ve made me more nervous than I thought. Twilight tells himself.
(He doesn’t acknowledge that he left the SSS behind miles ago, along with any danger they posed to his cover.)
Actually getting home takes a while. WISE transports him to where they moved his car just outside of city limits- approximately where he’d be if he were a distressed psychiatrist racing home to see his daughter.
The restless energy in his chest builds with each minute that ticks by. When he finally- finally - pulls into their building’s parking lot it’s easy to play the role of a frantic father running home during an emergency.
Twilight takes the stairs two at a time- Loid Forger would be racing to get to his daughter.
(Loid runs, but the pressure constricting his chest is all Twilight.)
Twilight reaches the door, unlocks it, and opens it all in one swift motion.
A projectile flies straight toward his face. Twilight ducks out of the way, looking back to see what assailants made their way into his home, and sees-
Anya. Anya, held in the arms of a shocked Yor.
Loid’s shoulders slump in relief. The pressure constricting Twilight’s chest eases.
“Loid!” Yor squeaks. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t expecting you back so soon, and I guess I was so on edge after everything-”
“It’s fine.” Twilight cuts her off. There’s a small knife buried in the wall behind him, but he doesn't care. His eyes are locked ahead of him, confused-curious green staring back.
“Anya.” The name leaves Twilight in a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Twilight steps inside, throwing his stuff to the side haphazardly and closing the door behind him. He takes an aborted step forward, gaze still locked on the girl in front of him.
Anya stares back at him, confused but not looking particularly terrified. Something in Twilight’s chest hurts, but he’s not exactly sure why.
What should he do in this situation? What is he supposed to do?
“Papa?” Anya tilts her head, green eyes boring into him. Eyes that see too much and have seen more than they ever should’ve.
Anya leans towards him, arms outstretched, and he takes her from Yor. One arm goes to support her weight and one arm wraps protectively over her back and cups her head. Anya presses her face into his neck,
“Hey, baby.” The endearment slips past Twilight’s lips, surprising him more than anyone. But she is a baby, isn’t she? So small, even smaller than all the other children in her class.
“Hi, Papa.” Anya croaks into his chest.
She cried today.
Guilt settles rock solid in his stomach.
Everything he does is to create a world where children don’t cry. That includes her, doesn’t it?
She matters just as much as any child, Loid lies to himself.
( She matters so much more to me, Twilight refuses to admit.)
“I came as soon as I heard.” Loid says, more true than she can know.
Anya hides her smile in his shoulder. “Anya knows, Papa.”
“You’re not hurt, are you?” He pulls her away from him slightly, looking her over with a critical eye. She was able to walk and stand just fine, so nothing life-threatening, but he hadn’t been on the bus and didn’t know what might’ve happened out of his line of sight.
Anya shakes her head. “Anya’s fine!” She chirps. “Anya’s arm is a little hurty ‘cus one of the bad guys grabbed her, but Anya didn’t get her head ‘splody or nothin.”
“Head splody?” Loid forces a chuckle, even as bile rises in his throat at the thought.
Anya’s eyes widen. “Oh don’ worry! The bomb they put around Anya’s neck wasn’t real.”
Loid blinks at Anya. “The what?”
“Anya read the driver's lips, so Anya knew where we were going- and Anya and Becky wrote a note and threw it out the window, but the bad guy didn’t like that, so when he saw he put the fake bomb on Anya’s neck to scare everyone into behaving.” Anya rushes to explain, half tripping over her words in her haste.
“But it wasn’t real so Papa doesn’t need to worry!” Anya smiles in what’s probably her best attempt at being comforting.
Twilight suddenly felt very dizzy. He pulls Anya closer to him, scared he might drop her. Anya melts into him, wrapping her arms around Loid’s neck and nestling her head under his chin.
A bomb. On her neck. On her neck? Anya is so small, her neck can barely support the weight of her head. How is it supposed to support a bomb? A bomb. On the most venerable part of her body. An explosive pressed up against her throat.
What the fuck.
Loid doesn’t know what to say. Across the hall Yor looks somewhere between stricken and enraged.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Twilight forces past the lump in his throat.
I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I didn’t stop it before it even happened. I’m sorry you had to go through it without me.
I’m sorry I put you in danger yet again.
“‘Is not you’re fault, Papa.” Anya says. Loid’s grip on her tightens for a moment.
Then, Twilight hands Anya back to Yor. Anya looks back at him, frowning. Twilight resists the urge to smooth down her hair.
Loid clears his throat. “I’m going to go make dinner. Hamburger steak.”
That makes Anya brighten. Loid gives her a tight smile. He shares a quick look with Yor- we’ll talk later - and turns to the kitchen.
As he starts on dinner, Twilight thinks. This isn’t the first time Anya’s been put in danger because of him. Hell, the first time was barely a day after meeting him.
Since Loid adopted her Anya’s been kidnapped, nearly killed by terrorists, nearly blown up, and now held hostage in a horrifying combination of all three.
Never mind the physical danger, what about the mental ramifications? Loid had seen the chaotic sandbox she’d put together.
Twilight’s stomach hurts.
What effects does trauma like that have on a child’s development? Anya doesn’t struggle just in school, she’s visibly behind her peers in many developmental milestones.
Is it his fault?
Loid wants to vomit. He drops the knife he’s holding on the counter and rubs at the bridge of his nose.
Operation STRIX is the most important thing here. It’s all he needs to focus on.
Maybe. Maybe it’s time to rework the plan. Make Loid Forger disappear and find a safer- better way to get in contact with Desmond. Handler won’t like it, but-
A weight crashes into Twilight’s legs. He stiffens on instinct, prepared to throw off the attack, but when he looks down all he sees is a fluffy head of pink hair.
“Anya?” Loid questions.
“Anya wants Papa.” Her voice is thick with unshed tears. “Anya knows that if she’s with Papa and Mama she’s always gonna be safe. S-so she wants to stay with Papa. Because Papa protects her. Papa keeps her safe.”
She’s crying, Loid realizes with a jolt. He kneels down and scoops her back up into his arms. She clutches onto him, tiny hands fisted in his shirt.
Right,
“Papa’s not going anywhere, baby.”
This is my responsibility,
Strong arms join his. “Mama isn’t either.”
My mission,
“We won’t let anything bad happen to you.” Twilight says.
I have to see it through,
Anya sniffles, teary eyes full of hope and fear.
And keep them safe,
“Promise?”
Until we part.
“Promise.”
-=+=-
Someday, when peace is secured Loid Forger will remember how much of an idiot he used to be, and want to smack his past self upside the head.
Then, he’ll go bake some cookies for his daughter.