Night officially over, Anya is ushered off to bed while Franky prepares to leave.

'She remembered my name! '

'I think she called you 'Floyd, '" Yor corrects in that nurturing way of hers.

'She remembered the first letter of my name! '

Contrary to Twilight 's expectations, Franky is ecstatic from Sylvia 's apathetic acknowledgement. He 's grinning like his teeth might make him money, and he 's in such a rush to depart that he keeps checking his pockets to make sure he hasn 't forgotten anything. Twilight glances at Yor in amusement, and she returns the look with a giggle. He doesn 't realize he 's smiling until her eyes get wide. Expression darkening, he turns back to Franky.

Franky decides he 's ready and waves on his way out. 'I 'll see you all later, have a great night! '

Once he 's gone, Yor asks, 'Will we be dropping Anya off at school tomorrow? '

'There 's something I need to take care of in the offi ' ' Twilight stops as if he 's been hit by a bus. There 's no point in details like that anymore, is there? He may already be lying 'there 's not actually anything he needs to take care of 'but if he 's so fed up with pretending for the sake of a mission that 's clearly going up in flames, why bother with the minutiae? 'There 's something I need to take care of beforehand. I 'll meet you at Eden. '

'Alright. '

Twilight hesitates, but gives Yor a nod. 'Good night, Yor. '

Her features flicker in surprise, then joy. 'Good night, Loid! ' she answers.

She hums cheerfully as she passes him, and the sound fills Twilight with guilt.

'

Students mill and roam about the campus, idling beneath trees that are on the cusp of dropping their leaves, looking mischievous on the carefully kept paths, and generally moving as slow as a breezeless day despite that the bell is slated to ring in one minute. Something about it makes Twilight feel exposed. Tender. Like a shoot just popping out of the dirt.

'Isn 't it nice? ' a gentle voice chimes. 'They 're so free and happy. How children should be. '

Yor meets him at his side, gazing out like she 's at a museum and standing before a watercolor of an idyllic meadow. Twilight nods. The bell rings. 'We should go now. '

What was once a one-sided secret is now a double-edged threat, his and Yor 's necks lined perfectly along the blade 's thirsty edge. Prior to being made, Twilight had found comfort in the fact that though he may have been acting for the school, Yor 's presentation had been genuine. His ignorance had allowed him to play off her perceived normalcy. Now he suspects that whatever conversation they 'll be having is going to require some very complicated choreography.

Henry Henderson is the one to open the door for them, welcoming them in with a pleased greeting and a remark on the elegance of their earliness. Tea and biscuits are brought in once they 've seated themselves. Twilight thinks nothing of it until he notices the way Henry looks between him and Yor.

There 's a sizable distance between them. Twilight remedies this by producing a hairpin out of his pocket, pretending to pick it up from the cushion. 'I thought I saw something here. Your pin, dear. ' He holds it out to her with a smile.

Yor 's hand drifts to her updo. 'It 's not mine. ' She frowns, mouth puckered in puzzlement.

'Isn 't it? ' Twilight tries to convey his thoughts through his eyes. From his peripheral, he can see Henry 's eyes narrow.

Yor stares back and continues to look perplexed. 'No, I don 't use hairpins. Could it be Sylvia 's? '

'Ah, you must be right. How peculiar. ' He pockets the pin and adjusts himself to close the space that Henry had scrutinized, but this hairpin slip up may have left their apparent standing in worse shape than the gap had, because Henry is now watching him with thinly-veiled skepticism. Scrambling for a solution, Twilight takes one of Yor 's hands in both of his and smiles at her. Her face turns pink and she looks away quickly.

Henry, now appearing satisfied, continues on with grace. 'I 've asked to meet with you both in query of Anya 's marks. While they have never been the most elegant, they have recently taken a particularly sharp dive. Has she told you? '

'No, ' answers Twilight. Yor shakes her head.

'Hmm, yes, well, truth be told, parents aren 't often privy to the specific inner workings of their children's mind. Is there any reason Anya may be experiencing a particular setback now? '

'Not that I 'm aware of, ' Twilight murmurs.

'I think, ' Yor interjects faintly, body stiff as though she 's expecting to be attacked. 'I may know. ' Twilight mouth parts in surprise, but after a beat of hesitation, Yor shakes her head. 'No. Nevermind. '

Twilight is about to ask her what she 's thinking when her gaze flits to the pocket he 'd just dropped the hairpin into. She brings her eyes to his. 'Could it be Sylvia? '

'Sylvia? ' Twilight parrots dumbly.

'Yes. Perhaps the sudden appearance of your long lost aunt scared her. '

The gears in Twilight 's head begin to turn. He nods slowly, then eagerly.

Clever.

This also absolves him of any possible suspicion Henry may have had about his fidelity. 'You 're right. Anya did become more withdrawn when my presumably dead aunt showed up at our doorstep. '

Sylvia 's not going to be too happy to hear herself referred to as his aunt. For his own safety, he 'll probably keep that tidbit from her.

'Ah, ' Henry inclines his head in understanding. 'An adjustment period. That is understandable. '

'Yes, she should be back to normal soon. '

'Well, that is elegant news indeed. I shall keep that in mind. Thank you for coming in. '

'Of course! ' Yor exclaims, ducking her head.

They all rise to their feet, Henry wishing them well as he sends them away. Neither speaks a word as they navigate the halls.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Twilight asks, 'What were you going to say before you changed your mind? '

Yor shakes her head so quickly, it must have been on her mind too. 'It was nothing. I was overthinking. '

It 's a funny thing to say, but now that she has, Twilight realizes her tendency to overthink is something he 's known for years now without ever really

knowing

'one of many things he 'd noticed in passing and filed away to be considerate of when interacting with Yor. Perhaps she isn 't so different from what he 'd thought she was.

'It 's strange, ' says Yor. 'But seeing the way you were acting in front of Mr. Henderson, I realized I prefer your real self. You 're very different from how you were before, but I like to know that you can be who you really are. It must be easier on you. '

Twilight almost stops in place at her innocent comment. His brows furrow, and he opens his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by somebody else.

'Yor? Is that you? '

Yor spins on her heel like a practised ballerina, eyes growing wide at the sight of her newfound company. 'Miss Melinda! It 's been so long! H 'how are you? '

'It has! That 's my own fault. I was out of the country for a stint. But I 'm doing fine, how are you? When was the last time we spoke? '

'I think four months ago! '

As they continue to exchange their latest going-ons, Twilight follows along like a patient and devoted husband, smiling and nodding when necessary. In the back of his mind though, he 's tabulating Melinda Desmond 's reactions and non-reactions, the way she moves and the way she holds herself. Oddly enough, he 's never encountered her. Not at any of Donovan 's events, nor Yor 's. It 's almost preternatural that they 'd be meeting now, like this.

How much does he really know of Yor?

'Well, I really must be going now! A meeting with one of Demetrius ' teachers. You know how it is. '

'Oh! Demetrius! I thought it might 've been Damian. '

Melinda 's smile drops a fraction. 'Oh, no, no. Is your little Anya still getting along with Damian? '

Yor 's brightness falters. 'I 'I believe so. I haven 't heard about him in a while, come to think of it ' '

'We 'll have to remedy that. I 'll put Jeeves on it 'but I really must get going now! It was wonderful to run into you again. Make it to the next garden party if you can! '

'I will! ' Yor exclaims as Melinda sweeps by. Her voice trails after her, dwindling as it travels further and further down the corridor until it vanishes into the cool air. They both stare down the tunnel for a little while longer, the silence eerie, before Yor turns to face Twilight. 'I have to go to work now. Will you be home late? '

'Yes. '

'Okay. I 'll let Franky know. '

Twilight tips his head in acknowledgement, keeping a few paces behind her as they head for the exit. On the street, they split paths, Yor heading east, Twilight heading west. After he turns a corner, he waits for a count of fifteen, then retraces his steps, following the route he knows Yor takes until he catches sight of her again.

'

Several floors down from where Twilight and Yor had their meeting, Damian stews. He and Anya have met once more between this meeting and the one in which he 'd quieted her, yet she 's still carrying a beleaguered look on her face. Nothing changes during class itself, either, forcing him to endure her moping throughout English until she wanders back to Becky's side for History. His patience has worn thin as a rag.

'This is pointless. ' He snaps his book shut. 'You can read on your own time. I 'm leaving. If you need to meet for something of actual importance, then just tell me. '

Anya doesn 't budge as he gathers his belongings, only staring at him with large, startled eyes. 'You 're leaving? ' she eventually asks.

'Yes, because this is a waste of my time. Tell me once you 've made some actual progress. '

He makes quick work of leaving 'Emile and Ewin may still be in the cafeteria 'but not before spotting the way Anya 's face seems to crumple in on itself.

It 's not guilt he feels. He has no reason to feel guilty. Still, he considers turning around.

'

When Yor enters the office, all three of her coworkers are standing side-by-side in the middle of the room. Millie looks scared, Sharon looks severe, and Camilla looks upset.

'Yor, ' says Camilla, eyes flashing. 'You need to tell us the truth. '

Yor 's eyes widen. Ice numbs her insides, cold dread coursing through her veins. They know. They 've found out. 'I never had a choice, but I had to hide it from everybody ' '

'Yor! You

always

have a choice. You

never

have to hide how your husband is treating you! ' Camilla cries out. 'We want to help you! Especially from terrible men! '

Gawking, the pace of Yor 's heart slows. 'Loid ' he hasn 't ' he 's not '

terrible '

'

All three women exchange looks. Sharon steps up to Yor, laying a hand on her shoulder. 'We all know how perfectly he treats you, but you 've been acting differently. All we have to go off of is your home life, since work seems to be going fine for you. But if it 's something else, we 're also happy to listen. If it is Loid, though, just know that he doesn 't need to be terrible to need to vent about. Everybody does frustrating things, and everybody is allowed to be frustrated. '

'Yeah! ' Millie chimes in, fists balled at her chests. 'Why, just the other day, this guy I went out for drinks with had the most annoying habit ' '

The conversation derails from its original intent without any effort on Yor 's part, becoming a lecture by Camilla about all the ways men fail women. They each leave at various points throughout the discussion to attend to meetings and general housekeeping duties, but upon returning, the absentee is brought up to speed and the back-and-forth continues to flow with the enthusiasm of a fire hose.

Nothing keeps them overtime today, though, and Sharon is the first to clock out. She leaves them with a bid of 'See you all tomorrow, ' and Millie follows shortly after. Only Yor and Camilla remain, the latter digging through her purse in search of what Yor can only guess at.

'Camilla ' '

'Ugh, I can 't find my keys. Again! It 's always my silly keys. Don 't wait up for me, Yor. '

'Actually, I had a question. ' Yor 's request does nothing to distract Camilla. She 's halfway through turning out her entire bag when Yor says, 'It 's about Loid. '

Camilla freezes, bag hanging upside down in the air. Her things pelt her desk like rain, if rain had the weight and density of what must be a vanity 's worth of makeup. Her mouth hangs open. There 's a pregnant pause, but then she collects herself, smoothing her hair down. 'Yes, well, what is it? '

The blonde keeps her eyes glued to Yor as she picks up her products one by one. It 's actually impressive, and Yor can 't help but stare as she explains. 'Well, it 's just ' Loid has been distant recently. I think it 's affecting Anya, and I ' I don 't know what to do. '

Things back in place 'and keys located 'Camilla hefts her bag up her shoulder and frowns. 'Well, that 's just terrible! He shouldn 't bring his own daughter into it! Have you asked what 's wrong? Why he 's acting so weird? '

'I ' I think I already know what 's wrong. ' Yor folds her hands at her waist, looking down. 'He 's received some difficult news. '

Camilla tsks, closing her eyes and shaking her head. 'That 's not very specific. And that 's no reason to take it out on you! ' When she opens her eyes, she glowers straight at Yor, pointing at her with purpose. 'You have to ask him why. And you have to tell him you 're worried! And you can ask him how you can help if you 'd like, although I usually wait to do that because I 'm too stubborn for my own good, but you 're nothing like me, so I suppose it 's not a concern '

my point is!

You can 't just suffer in silence, Yor! '

'But he 's avoiding me, ' says Yor weakly.

And possibly trying to kill me.

'Don 't let him! Trap him! Back him into a corner! ' An idea must go off in Camilla 's head, because she lights up like a firecracker. 'I 'll host a party, and he 'll

have

to go with you. Ugh, my calendar isn 't looking great these days, it might be farther out ' but really, if he hasn 't opened up to you by then, this party may be just the push he needs. And if things

are

okay by that time, then you 'll both just have fun! '

'Oh, that 's not necessary ' '

'Of course not, but let me have my fun too. '

Yor blinks in astonishment at her colleague. The calculating gleam leaves Camilla 's eyes, and then she 's just smiling at Yor. 'I 'm glad to know it 's just regular marital problems and not anything more serious. It 'll be okay, Yor. These things have a way of working out. '

Yor returns Camilla 's smile. 'Thank you, Camilla, ' she replies softly.

'Of course! Now, I 'm off to prepare dinner. I 'll see you tomorrow. ' Camilla whirls around, honey-blonde curls the last thing to leave the room. Then Yor is alone.

Regular marital problems,

Yor thinks. There 's something relieving about that. She packs her own things, leaving the city hall and making a journey she 's made for three and a half years now. It requires a drive out to the edge of the city and a substantial trek, but it 's nothing more than what she deals with on any other mission.

The only difference, however, is that this time, she can 't shake the feeling she 's being followed.

'

Gloved hands clasped tightly to the steering wheel, Loid peers into the rearview mirror. Behind him, Yor is staring out the window with a kind of practised calm. Her gaze is heavy-lidded, and the line of her mouth smooth and straight. Even her eyes seem a shade darker. It 's a face he 's encountered before when Yor was just Yor 'usually when she was dealing with something she needed to apply all of herself to.

Now he knows that she 's preparing. Placing herself in a specific mindspace. Frustration with his ignorance wars with an unexpected sympathy 'it 's not as if he doesn 't do the exact same thing. Perhaps what 's actually surprising 'what Twilight really struggles to relate to 'is that Yor can go back to her cover life without taking her actual life with her. He would have never guessed at so much darkness beneath her wide-eyed exterior. The ability to code-switch like that seems almost heartless. Psychopathic.

Twilight deflects the thought. If it turns out Yor isn 't fit for society apart from her secret occupation, he 'll deal with it when it comes. Right now, he just needs to keep his eye on her. He 'd missed whatever conversations she might have had in the city hall 'not that Twilight thinks any of her direct coworkers are particularly nefarious 'and he can 't make the same mistake twice.

'Here is fine, ' Yor says. Twilight slows to a stop. 'Thank you, Sir! '

She climbs out, smiling the guileless way she does as she waves goodbye. Twilight waves back. 'Have a wonderful night, Miss, ' he answers, snow-white mustache tickling his upper lip. The folds on his forehead obscure his vision, but he 's able to make out Yor 's figure disappearing into the woods.

He waits three minutes before tearing off his mask, pulling off his gloves, and shedding his jacket and jeans to reveal his usual suit. Slipping into the foliage, he takes every step thoughtfully, making himself light amidst the debris. Yor isn 't too far up ahead despite her head start.

At the castle, she enters what Twilight guesses is a bedroom, based on the second-long look he gets before the door shuts. He doesn 't wait to see what she 's doing 'there 's not enough cover, and being discovered is too much of a risk. There 's only one place for her to be, anyway, so he makes his way there, sinking into the darkest corner behind a pillar of the wide, open space. When she arrives, she 's wearing a dress he recognizes. It 's the same one from their last night here.

He hadn 't gotten a good look then, too busy having his world upended, but now, he 's surprised to see how '

revealing

her uniform is. He 's always had an idea of the shape of her, but never the details, never the lines or curves or angles that make up that shape. Her clothing at home 'even her nightgown 'has always been on the looser side. More forgiving.

Twilight swallows, and the sound of it is a whip crack in the dark. Yor jerks towards the pillar he 's tucked behind, and he swears under his breath. She begins to move towards him. There 's no point hiding now, so he steps out, gun raised.

Yor, who 's brought her stilettos up to her face, double takes. Caught off guard, she begins to lower her hands, face softening. 'Loid ' '

'Thorn Princess, ' he replies.

Her gaze falters, then hardens, expression matching the material of her weapons. She raises both daggers again, stance shifting into one of defense. 'What are you doing here? '

'Recon. '

'For your mission? '

'In a manner of speaking. '

'Are you going to kill me? '

They 're circling the room, Twilight moving from six o ' clock, to five, to four, to three while Yor travels opposite him. His body doesn 't freeze, keeps him moving and aware of his surroundings as if on autopilot, but his mind has come to a standstill. Is he? Is that what he 's going to do now? Kill her?

Her?

He 's seen her crying with worry over Anya, seen her panicking over a smoking pot roast. He knows the brand of shampoo she prefers and the way she ties her shoes. Knows at what length she cuts her hair and what length she cuts it to.

For four years, she 's tried to improve her cooking and hasn 't gotten anywhere with it. For four years, she 'd brewed his morning coffee. For four years, she 's sent Anya off to school with him, invited him to all her friend 's parties, asked him how his day was.

But what choice does he have? One of them has to die, and he can't let it be himself.

He disengages the safety from his gun. Yor stills. For a second, Twilight thinks he sees sadness flicker over her features, but it may just be a trick of the moonlight.

'May I ask why? ' she asks softly. She sounds like she does at home.

'For peace, ' he answers, then shoots.

Yor is airborne in a second, her jump taking her so high that she 's backlit by the moon in the window behind her. When she lands directly on top of him, heel catching his shoulder, he falls to the floor, but before she can trap him with her knees, he rolls, just barely dodging the stiletto she sends downward.

Leaping back to his feet, he bounds towards another pillar, taking aim and letting another bullet loose. Yor dodges easily 'like she 's done this millions of times before, like it 's child 's play 'then charges at him like a feral animal and with the same instinctual glint in her eye. She draws one arm across her body, stiletto parallel to the ground.

Twilight realizes too late that she intends to throw it. He dives away at the last second, but the dagger still grazes his shoulder, tearing through multiple layers of fabric and leaving a stinging wound behind. He expects the weapon to fall to the floor from loss of momentum, but instead, it pierces straight through the pillar he 's just sprinted past, lodging itself in the wall behind several inches deep. It 's a perfectly straight shot, so clean that the hole it leaves behind is just that: a hole. No fine spiderwebbing feathering from it. No cement or plaster crumbling out of it.

It occurs to him 'like a distant thought, one he 's watching from overhead 'that he may be in over his head.

Yor sweeps across the room in a blur, yanking her weapon out like the wall is warm butter. Then she's on him again, attacks non-stop. Twilight is never able to gain a lead, instead relegated to an absolute defense to her absolute offense. For every shot he takes at her, she seems to manage five more swipes at him. It feels like hours of cat-and-mouse 'at one point he wonders fleetingly if she 's toying with him 'before she pins him to the stairs leading up to Olif 's office.

It would be her kill 'the blade of her stiletto kisses his throat, so cold it feels wet 'if not for the barrel of his gun against her chest. He can feel her heart pulsing beneath the metal. Not the sprint he expected, but a hurried

thump-thump-thump.

A stark contrast to the thundering staccato against his ribcage.

Her stare is blood red. Removed. The eyes of the dead. 'Well? ' she murmurs, face so close to his that the syllable is warm against his lips.

Twilight flexes his hand. Fingers the trigger. His gaze flits from one eye to the other. Then he drops his arm, gun clattering to the floor. 'I 'm out of rounds. '

Yor blinks at him, first slowly, then rapidly, like she 's coming out of a trance. The light returns to her eyes, and she sits up like she 's been yanked back by her hair. Twilight winces, grunting at the unannounced weight to his chest. She gasps, hands flying to her mouth. 'I 'm sorry, I forgot I was ' '

'It 's fine, ' groans Twilight, coming up on an elbow. He 's half-lying in a pool of blood.

Yor makes a noise like she 's just watched a chipmunk get run over. 'Your shoulder! '

'Yes. '

'Your chest! '

'Yes. '

'Your arm! '

'Yes." He hisses through his teeth when he touches his ribs. Definitely bruised. Possibly some internal bleeding. 'I get the idea. '

'I 'm so sorry! ' Yor clambers off him, helping him up to a seat and hovering over him as he inspects his wounds. 'I can ' I can ' once we 're home, I can take care of it ' '

He 's already tearing his suit jacket into strips. 'It 's fine. Shouldn 't Olif be worried? '

She shakes her head. 'I don 't know what it looks like past those doors, but he doesn 't seem to hear anything. People have thrown explosives, yet he 's never mentioned it. '

They fall into silence. Yor sits back on her calves as he works. She 's so quiet and motionless that he 'd forget she was there if not for the fact he 's trying to dress the wounds she inflicted. Still, when she speaks, he startles.

'I want peace too, you know. '

Twilight looks at her sharply. She 's too fixated on her hands in her lap to notice. Her tone is contrite, as if she doesn 't expect him to believe her. 'I find that hard to believe, ' he confirms for her, words flat.

She does look up then, and Twilight feels something inside him twist at her glassy expression. 'Why? '

He purses his lips. Yanks particularly hard on a knot he 's just tied. 'Because you 're defending Ostania. '

'Ostania is my home. '

'Ostania is a communist regime, Yor! It 's a surveillant state that plays at peace publically while privately scheming methods to usurp Westalis 'then the rest of the world! And not just usurp, but demolish it in the most painful, ugly way! '

'That 's 'that 's not true ' '

'Then why 'd you accept my proposal four years ago? ' he spits, exasperated.

Yor recoils. 'I 'It was suspicious 'for me to be unmarried at my age, I knew if it went on any longer, I 'I 'd be investigated, I ' '

'Exactly. '

She falls silent again, eyes dropping once again to the floor. She looks lost.

'The very fact that you are what you are 'an assassin that gets hired to take care of inconvenient people, often for the government 'haven 't you ever asked yourself

why? '

'I thought what I was doing was helping keep Ostania peaceful and ' and clean, with skills that normal people didn 't have 'I ' I didn 't know ' ' Twilight opens his mouth to retort, only for Yor to look up at him tearfully. 'I was just trying to make sure Yuri had enough, and... and it was the only thing I was a little bit good at. '

Her confession stops his thoughts in their tracks. Slowly, gradually, he shuts his mouth. 'I 'm sorry, ' she whispers. Twilight doesn 't bother answering.

After a long pause, she asks, 'Does Westalis have anything like me? '

'Westalis has me, ' Twilight answers bitterly, pulling himself up over his knees once everything seems in order. 'We have agents that gather intelligence to keep the peace in the least violent means possible. '

And sometimes it 's not possible.

'That must be nice. '

She 's staring out the window, face blank. The moon is still hanging through it, its light catching on her lashes. Every blink seems to break up the beam. Every flutter makes the light seem tangible against her skin.

Something about the sight makes Twilight ask, 'What if you join Westalis? WISE would protect you. '

Her eyes snap to his. For a second, hope rustles in Twilight 's chest. But Yor shakes her head almost frantically. 'I couldn 't. I can 't. '

Irritation sweeps through him. 'Of course. '

Hurt flashes through her eyes. 'That 's not fair 'everything you say sounds nice, Loid. Too nice. It sounds like a fairytale. And fairytales ' fairytales, they 're '"

'Hard to believe, ' he finishes for her, rising to his feet. 'I understand." For a moment, she looks hopeful. "But if we 're not allies, then we 're enemies. '

She flinches at the bite in his voice, but he ignores her as he steps down the stairs. 'What about Anya? ' she asks, quiet voice carrying over cold stone. Bouncing off marble walls.

Twilight falters. Then he shakes his head and presses forward.

'

Yor fights back tears all 15 miles of the return trip. Once she makes it home, she drops her forehead to the door of their apartment. She doesn 't know what to do. She hardly knows what to think. Ostania, evil? How? But Loid had been right. What country unleashes somebody like her onto the population, government or not?

It strikes her like a steel mallet, then 'the realization that Yuri might know. Yuri, who works for the government. And not just as any humdrum servant like her, but in the foreign ministry! He, more than anyone, ought to know about the state of Ostania compared to other countries! What other countries think of Ostania!

A seed of hope blooms inside her. She finds the house key, then slides it into place. Just as she 's about to turn it, she hears footsteps behind her.

'Yor! ' Franky waves, face joyful. Bond scurries straight to her feet. 'Right on time! '

'Hello, Franky! ' She 's able to smile back, feeling more like herself again.

Anya, despite looking tuckered out, manages to race to her side like Bond. She looks up hopefully. Yor 's heart sinks again. 'Loid said he 'd be home later than usual tonight. '

The way Anya 's face falls breaks Yor 's heart. Her goodbye wave to Franky is less enthusiastic, more melancholic. Franky, for his part, looks disappointed as he backs down the stairs with a nod.

Inside the house, Yor tucks Anya in. She makes sure the covers are snug around her before reaching for her bedside lamp.

'Mama, ' Anya says, voice small.

'Yes? '

She doesn 't say anything, but her face begins to wobble.

'Oh, Anya, ' Yor whispers, bringing her hand back to her and combing it through Anya 's hair. The little girl begins to weep. 'Oh, no. I 'm sorry. It 's hard, I know. It 's okay to cry. ' She doesn 't know how to lie to her, to tell her it will all turn out okay. And there 'd be no use anyway, Anya would know she was lying. So she lays down beside her and continues to run her hands over her hair, her face.

'Sy-On Boy was mean to Anya today, too, ' Anya sobs. 'He didn 't want Anya either. '

Bond, who 's been lying on the rug, whines and stands, setting his paws on the bed. Settling back on his haunches, he makes some gruff noises before giving a little howl.

'Loid still wants you, ' Yor assures. 'He just doesn 't know what to do. ' It doesn 't feel like a lie.

'Anya doesn 't know what to do either. ' She begins to cry anew.

'That 's okay, ' soothes Yor. 'That 's not your job. That 's what adults are supposed to do. '

Silence lays its blanket over them. Sy-On Boy, Yor is pretty sure, is Damian Desmond. She knows it 's not truly Damian 's fault he bullies Anya, but it still makes some part of her blood boil. Makes her want to confront Melinda. Dispose of Donovan.

'Mama, ' Anya sniffs. 'Bad. '

Yor smiles. 'You 're right. I 'm sorry. I 'll sing instead. '

'Thank you. '

'

Parked in an empty lot with no visible streetlamps or signs of life, Twilight rests his forehead against the steering wheel, headache pounding behind his temples. When he finally comes up, he hangs his arms from the dashboard behind the wheel, examining the gun in his hold.

The dark grey of it looks brighter under moonlight than it ever does under sunlight. He runs his thumb over the barrel, stopping at the chamber. Presses it open.

One bullet remains.

Sighing, he sets the weapon down and slumps back into his seat. Lets his head fall against the headrest. Stares up at the stars through the windshield.