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“You were careless, Twilight,” Twilight chastised himself while pulling his mask from his face. Small drops of blood dripped from the wound beneath his coat. “You froze the second you heard her voice, and let yourself get wounded. All because she looked and sounded a bit like her . You’re lucky you made it out of there with only a gash on your shoulder. How are you going to explain this to your wife? To your daughter?” Twilight paused on that thought. He caught himself thinking like he was a real father and husband again. “It doesn’t matter. They’re replaceable. You are replaceable, Twilight. You can start over with a new identity. A new family. Or another operative can take your place. Someone who won’t grow soft.” Twilight dwelled on these thoughts as his eyelids grew heavy. “Perhaps that would be for the best. Anya was never cut out for Eden.”
Twilight narrowed his eyes, silently scolding himself for even thinking such a thing. “No. You are Twilight, a master of deception. As such, you can suss out any lie—even the ones you tell yourself. Anya will grow to be a good, smart woman. At least she will as long as she isn’t exposed to this sort of danger. As long as you don’t...” Twilight glanced behind himself, noting the red stains just barely illuminated by the street lights. “...Don’t lead your enemy to your home with a trail of blood, as you just have. You utter imbecile! It doesn’t even make sense to go home!” His feet had carried him as if on instinct. Rather than find his handler, or a WISE safe-house, he went to the place he’d been calling home for the last year. He could barely think, save to chastise himself. The more blood he lost, the blurrier his vision grew. “You won’t even be able to protect them in this state. You have to... to...” Before he could form a plan, Twilight’s legs lost strength. He stumbled, and awaited the harsh impact of the sidewalk—an impact that never came.
Loid hissed, rudely awakened by damp rag pressed to his wound.
“I know, I’m sorry. But you need to hold still, Loid.”
“Yor?” The odor of alcohol assaulted his nose. It did more to wake him up the pain did. Loid opened his eyes, finding that bottle of gin they agreed to never touch. It was 60% alcohol. No telling what Yor would do if she drank that.
Loid noticed how calm Yor’s voice was, given what she just discovered. Despite his reservations, Loid did as he was told. The chilly kitchen counter he laid across was almost soothing, despite being far from the most comfortable place to lay.
“I know this isn’t the most comfortable place to be doing this, but washing the blood off the counter will be easier than trying to get it out of the couch.” No one knew that better than her.
“Never mind that. Anya. Where is...?”
“Asleep, thank heavens,” Yor’s voice finally cracked. “I can only imagine how worried she would be if she saw you like this.”
Loid sighed in relief. “Yor, listen, I—” Loid was interrupted by his own barely stifled scream. He knew this stabbing pain. Yor was sewing his wound shut. He bit into the side of his hand, before Yor apologized and offered him a rolled-up rag in its place.
It felt like years passed. Yet, despite the pain, he noticed a gentleness in Yor’s touch; the brief pauses where she stroked along his spine to sooth him. And to think Loid worried that he’d end up looking like that penguin plush she tried to fix. He had no idea Yor could be so careful. Or so precise with a needle.
“It’s done,” Yor declared, to Loid’s relief. She left his side, moving to wash her hands. She paused upon noticing Loid rising from the counter.
“Loid!” she snapped at him, then lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “Don’t try to move on your own!”
“It’s fine. I’ve had worse.”
“I’m aware, but that doesn’t mean you’re in good shape, by any means.”
Loid silently panicked upon hearing her, but soon realized she was likely referring to their first date. It was a deeper wound this time, but at least it wasn’t a headwound. As his thoughts were cast back to that night, he noticed Yor was wearing the same dress.
“Did I forget our anniversary, or something?” he asked.
“Hm?”
Loid gestured to her dress with his good arm. Yor looked down at herself. “Oh, this! I-I just wanted to look pretty!”
“I see.” Wearing a fancy dress for the fun of it was far from the strangest thing about Yor, so he paid her excuse no mind. Loid was too addled to notice the guilt on Yor’s face. “You must be wondering how this happened. Would you mind if I explained in the morning? I should really rest.” And it would give him time to come up with a convincing lie. Not that he had to work all that hard. Not with Yor. As sweet as the woman was, she was a simpleton. Thank heavens for that. He probably wouldn’t have been able to keep his secret for so long if she wasn’t.
“...Loid. I know what happened.”
“Oh. Y-you do?”
“You were injured at your job.”
“Er, yes! You see, a patient...”
“Your real job, Loid.”
“...I beg your pardon?”
“ Loid. ”
“Yor, I have no idea what you’re—”
“I know. I’ve known since the party. You were the one who stole the files from city hall. The personnel files for all the women in the city.”
“What? Yor, be serious. How could you accuse me of such a thing?”
“I never told you about my parents.”
“Your parents?”
“I never told you my parents died when I was young. Not until we were married. Yet you already knew.”
Loid’s mind returned to that first night with Yor.
“After Yor’s parents died at an early age, she worked herself half to death to provide for her young brother. What an incredible act of self-sacrifice.”
It was a party at her coworker’s house. He’d arrived late, accidentally told the guests he was her husband, and started all of this.
“To endure such a harsh job for the sake of another for something greater than oneself...”
When Yor’s coworker tried to slander her, Loid praised her.
“I truly admire that.”
They were some of the few genuine words he’d said in his life.
But Loid said too much.
“After Yor’s parents died...”
“I’m certain you’re mistaken. You told me when you were explaining the situation with your brother. Remember?”
“I didn’t. I know I didn’t. But you knew that they died in the war.”
“I must have assumed. So many people were orphaned in the war. Even I lost my parents back then.”
“And is that when you were recruited by WISE?”
“This is ridiculous. I’m going to bed.”
“Is that when you became...?” Yor stopped herself.
“Leave it at that, Twilight.”
Loid ceased heading toward his bedroom, and was now moving within inches of Yor. He leaned toward her, and she leaned back. “Say it,” he demanded. “I need to hear it.”
“No, you don’t, Twilight. To push further is to risk the mission. Tell her that she’s mistaken. Tell her that she’s crazy. Say anything except...”
“Who am I?”
“...Twilight. You’re Agent Twilight. The best spy in Westalis.”
“How would you know? Why would you not think that I’m any random spy? Or just some pervert looking to stalk women? Why Twilight, specifically?”
“I knew Twilight was in the country. I had my suspicions it was you. Tonight convinced me."
"How? Why?"
"Because I was warned that Twilight, the bodyguard assigned to my target, was a master of disguise. And the man whom I gave that wound—the same wound that's on your back—had a different face than yours.”
Loid’s eyes widened. Before he could act on Yor’s confession, he felt the press of her fingers into his body. He was out like a light.
The target was a high-ranking, senior agent of WISE. According to Garden’s intel, the man had been fanning the flames of war under the noses of his fellow spies. Since WISE kept its actions under wraps, he could be safely removed without instigating a war between the East and West. That was the assignment given to the Thorn Princess.
“May I have the honor of taking your life?” Those words were normally met with a look of terror, and pleas for mercy. But not this time. Her prey looked befuddled, instead. She paid it little mind at the time. Yor became more suspicious when the old man managed to defend himself shockingly well, especially given how dark the alleyway was. He even managed to flee after she finally managed to wound him.
The Thorn Princess found the tatters of his “face” on the ground a few blocks away from her home. From there, the drops of blood led her to a disturbingly familiar frame.
She acted without a second thought. Loid was hurt. That was all that mattered.
After mending his wound and enduring their confrontation, she took him to bed. Loid was the only one who’d seen her face, so thankfully she didn’t have to do any cleanup. But she was no doubt going to get an earful from the Director. If she was lucky, that was all she was getting.
She only parted from Loid’s side for a moment to check on Anya. She was still sleeping sound, with Bond at her side. Yor lingered for a short while, worried that this might be the last time she would be able to see her precious girl. Her worry for Loid took over, and Yor returned to him. To her surprise, Loid was sitting up.
“That should have left you unconscious for twelve hours.”
“Think you could do it again? I’m not sure I’m going to be able to sleep otherwise.”
Yor moved toward him.
“Joking, Yor.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Why were you trying to kill my superior?” Loid cut straight to the point. Yor looked to the bed, and Loid gestured for her to sit. She did so, and explained herself...
“I see,” was Loid’s simple response. “Assuming one of your friends hasn’t taken him out, I’ll have my handler investigate him ASAP.”
“You... You trust me?”
“You’re clearly a professional, so it would be foolish of me to ignore your intel outright.”
“I-I suppose so... You're taking this quite calmly."
"Well, to be frank, you being a Garden assassin explains a lot. The strength. The agility. The expert cleanliness, despite the lack of any other domestic skills. The... occasional morbid fixation."
"I get it, Loid."
"Right. Sorry."
Silence hung in the air. Yor was barely keeping herself from fidgeting. Loid rubbed the tension out of the nape of his neck.
“Someone from my work will likely call to make sure I’m still alive,” he finally spoke up. “But I should get some sleep. Would you mind telling them I’m alright? And only telling them I’m alright? If you let on that you know...”
“Yes. Yes, of course. I don’t... I don’t want to cause you any trouble, Loid.” Yor felt foolish saying so. How much more trouble could she give him than an icepick in the shoulder? She cast her gaze to the floor. “Perhaps... It would be best if you replaced me with someone who’s less of a liability.”
“Yor.” Upon hearing Loid speak, Yor looked to him—and flinched upon seeing the anger in his eyes. “I never want to hear you say that again.” Loid’s stern voice made her jump.
“I-I’m sorry,” Yor stammered. Loid heaved a sigh, calming himself.
“The way I see it, we’re both in the same line of work. We both want to prevent another war. We both want Anya to grow up in a better world. If we are truly of the same mind in this regard, then I can think of no one more suitable to be my wife.” Loid dwelled on his earlier thoughts, and silently scolded himself for them. They were thoughts befitting a spy, but completely unbefitting a husband.
“Yor. My wife. You are completely, utterly irreplaceable.”
Yor was stunned by how understanding Loid was. Her wide eyes then softened, and a giggle bubbled up from her lips.
“What’s so funny?”
“For a moment, I worried that all the kind words you said to me were just part of your mission. I’m happy to see that you’re still my kindhearted Loid.”
When Yor saw Loid’s dumbfounded expression, she dwelled on her own words. Her cheeks were immediately on fire.
“Ah, not that you belong to me! I know that this is just for your mission. I don’t mean to... I-I should let you sleep.” Yor shot up to her feet, but her hand was swiftly snatched by Loid. She looked to him, streetlights seeping in just enough to let her catch that heavy blush across his cheeks.
“Would you sing that song for me again?”
It took a moment for Yor to come out of her stupor and remember what he was referring to. “Oh! I still don’t remember most of the words.”
“I don’t either. To be honest, I barely remember anything about my mother. Except for that song.”
A sad smile showed itself on Yor’s lips. “Move over,” she instructed Loid, who did as she asked. She settled in beside him, and gently guided his head to her shoulder. The room grew quiet, save for her gentle singing, and the hums that filled in the parts she couldn’t recall.
There was little doubt that when morning came, there would be hell to pay from both of their employers. But for the moment, WISE, Garden, Twilight, and Thorn Princess; they all faded into the background.
All that was left was her kindhearted Loid, and his irreplaceable Yor.