The tension is so thick in the library, he might be suffocating. Or he 's developed a breathing disorder. The only indicator that it 's not the library but him is the fact that Anya sits diagonal to him, breathing just fine as she reads her book.

Frustration roils through Damian. How can she look so calm?! Does she know how lucky she is?! He suffered to make this meeting happen! Becky attacked him! Humiliated him! Made him give up lunches that could be peaceful and enjoyable! To hang out with somebody who can barely read!

He sees her lip tremble, and he snaps. 'You 've been on the same page for 45 minutes! '

Her head snaps up, gaze burning. 'It 's hard! ' She fights back. Her eyes look almost wet. 'And ' and I know what happens, I know why 'why it happens and how and what, so 'so ' '

'How can you know that without reading the book?! '

'My tutor gave me a small version! '

'A small ' a

small

version? What does that even mean? Didn 't I tell you to ask your mother to read it to you?! '

'She 'she 's busy! '

'Well, you have two parents, don 't you?! What happened to your father? Has he died? Has he gone off to war? Or does he just not want to be around you anymore, annoying as you ' 'Damian shouts as he stumbles back, hands coming to his nose as he trips back into his seat. There 's a thump behind him 'the book she threw finally falling to the floor.

Pulling his hands away, he finds red pooling in his palms. He jerks to glare at her, seeing her through a furious, spinning haze. Blood roars through his ears. 'You 'you ' neanderthal! '

Regret flashes over her face like a strike of lightning. She opens her mouth to speak, but the librarian beats her to it.

'OUT!

OUT!

That 's enough with you two! I 've never heard any students louder! Unbelievable. Disgraceful! This is a learning institution! Not a boxing ring! '

They 're shoved out of the library, bags and books thrown out with them. Damian scoffs. 'Good job, Forger. You 've done it again. You must feel good about yourself, creating chaos everywhere you go. '

For all his fury, he still has it in him to eye her smugly 'only to find her crying, tears streaming down her face even as she wipes frantically at them. Her shoulders shake, and her breaths come in short gasps, like she can 't catch onto any one of them. Every noise from her mouth is desperately stifled, but it only serves to make her sound even more like a tiny, wounded animal.

The earlier haze sweeps out of him, leaving behind a feeling so sharp, he swears he can see each of her individual lashes even from this far away. His heart pounds in his throat. His mouth is dry.

'Wh 'what are you ' don 't do that ' 'he reaches for her, but he 's interrupted by heavy, severe footsteps before his hand can meet her. Mr. Henderson is heading towards them, a shadow in his eyes that Damian knows means he already heard what 's happened.

'Inelegant, ' he murmurs, mustache twitching. 'Absurd. Unacceptable. You two will come to my office and have your parents pick you up. When you return, be prepared to convince me not to give you both a Tonitrus Bolt. '

All life drains from Damian. He sees Anya look up at their teacher with teary horror, eyes rimmed with pink. Her mouth wobbles. She looks down again.

'

Sylvia leaves the office early to loiter near Eden Academy. She 's not particularly sure how this works. Does she meet Anya at the building entrance? Or wait for her at some sort of bus stop? But where? The last time she 'd considered anything like this, it 'd been a daydream. Playing house with her four year-old daughter and pretending to send her off to school, neither aware that the next two years would never come. Sylvia hasn 't let herself think about it since.

Which is why she wanders onto the campus, peering through alcoves and corridors and even the occasional window. That 's how she finds Anya walking down a hallway behind an older man, features swollen from apparent grief. There 's also a boy beside her with a smear of blood down his mouth and chin. Sylvia doesn 't know what to make of any of it, but she hurries to follow them, keeping her footsteps light.

Before she makes herself known, she waits outside what she can only assume is the older man 's office. The nameplate on the door reads 'Henry Henderson. ' Pressing her ear to the door, she listens.

It 's a good 15 minutes of silence. Sometimes there 's a rustle or a click or the sound of something hard hitting another something hard. But no words are spoken.

Finally, though, Henry speaks. 'Neither of either of your guardians picked up? How irresponsible! Utterly inelegant! '

Another stretching silence. 'I 'll try Jeeves, ' the boy eventually mutters.

Sylvia straightens at the sound of footfall. She smiles at the passing adult 'an instructor, she figures 'then knocks. It 's quiet. Then the door opens. She raises her hand to greet Henry. 'Hello! I 'm Sylvia Sherwood. Loid may have told you about me. He 's a bit busy right now, but requested I check if everything was okay, as he received a call from you. '

Henry 's eyebrows fly into his hair. 'Sylvia! The aunt. '

She smiles. 'Yes, Anya 's aunt. '

'Anya 's aunt? I was told you were Loid 's aunt. '

Her smile freezes. Twitches. 'Oh, yes, that 's what I meant. Did I not say that? I 'm so sorry. My mind, you know? It 's deteriorating with age! ' She 's going to dismember Twilight next time he steps into her office.

'Ah, might I recommend seeing a physician? '

'Oh, I 'm already seeing one! Several, in fact. Anya! There you are! Why don 't we go? ' Anya scuttles up to her side, taking her hand, and Sylvia feels her mood soften. She smiles down at the girl. 'We can pick up Bond and spend time with Aaron, how do you feel about that? ' Anya nods.

That should be that. Sylvia steps back, ducking her head at Henry in gratitude, only for her eyes to catch on the boy in the back, hovering by the phone. Except for the gilt hue of his gaze, every part of him is dour and dark. He stares at Anya with a kind of petulance that she understands only because she 's older and watching from the outside.

'Damian, ' says Sylvia, banking on her inference skills and the reports she's received from Twilight over the years. 'Jeeves asked me to bring you too. So come along now! '

The bewildered, then outraged look he gives her makes Sylvia understand why Anya had huffed and puffed about him. Mouth gaping, his head swivels from Sylvia, to Henry, to Anya.

Henry 's mustache wiggles. 'You 're acquainted with Anya 's great-aunt, Master Desmond? '

Great-aunt.

She 's going to eviscerate Twilight. Starting with his fingernails. Then his knuckles. Joint by joint, slowly and with relish.

Damian 's eyes dart to Anya, who stills. Her hand tightens around Sylvia 's and she peers up. Perhaps for guidance. Sylvia tips her head to the side and shrugs. One more second of hesitation passes, then Anya gives Damian a minute nod.

His entire face bursts into flames. 'I ' I do, yes. '

'Well, that 's wonderful. It 's all worked out. I will see you both after the weekend. Remember what I said. '

The moment the door closes, Damian, skepticism abounding, says, 'You don 't look like a great-aunt. '

Ah, yes. She already likes this kid. 'Because I 'm not. '

Aghast, Damian comes to a stand. 'Then who are you? Are you kidnapping me? Are you going to take me hostage? My father won 't stand for this! '

She starts to explain, but Anya does it for her. 'Sylvia is Papa 's Boss Lady. '

Sylvia frowns. She doesn 't recall ever having told Anya that. Did Loid? She glances down at Anya. 'Did Loid ' 'Anya turns away sharply, but not before Sylvia catches her mid-cringe, as if she 's realized she 's made a mistake. Double taking, Sylvia shuts her mouth. Very odd.

'Mr. Forger 's boss? ' He 's still wearing that dubious expression. 'You don 't look like a boss either. '

'What does a boss look like? '

'Older. Much older. '

Yes, yes. She likes this kid quite a lot. Hopefully he and Anya can get along better. Speaking of getting along better 'Sylvia pulls her handkerchief out, stopping by a water fountain to dampen it. Then she crouches in front of Damian, raising the napkin to his face to wipe at the blood.

Harumphing, he snatches the towel out from her hold. 'I 'm not a child, I can do it myself. '

Oh my. Sylvia raises her eyebrows, but leaves him to it. Anya, on the other hand, continues to hold onto her hand. She 's so much smaller than Damian, Sylvia almost suspects they aren 't the same age. She 'd always thought Anya was closer to her daughter 's age, so had found it peculiar that the little girl had already begun attending Eden when they 'd met.

Anya 's hold has turned very stiff. Features frozen in alarm, she slides her hand mechanically out from Sylvia 's. 'I am 10, ' she says, like she 's reading from a script. 'So I don 't need to hold your hand anymore. Because I am 10, not eight. '

Trying not to feel too disappointed, Sylvia nods. They 're outside the gates now on a Friday. The city is alive. 'Well, the world is our oyster. What would you like to do first? '

Excitement colors Anya 's whole body. The glass green of her gaze dances under the mid-afternoon sunlight. Damian, who's watching from the sidelines and pretending not to be involved, turns an amusing shade of pink.

'Anything? ' Anya asks, peering up at her.

'Anything. '

'Ice cream?! '

'That sounds nice. '

'Can we get Bond first? He loves ice cream! '

'Alright. We 'll pick up Aaron on the way too. '

'I ' also have a dog, ' says Damian. His first non-hostile offering. Sylvia smiles, and Damian turns inward for a second, perhaps embarrassed, before shoving his hands in his pockets and falling into step beside Anya.

This is how Sylvia ends up at a dog park two hours later with three beasts in tow, two children to either side of her, and three scoops of ice cream total. At some point during the entire adventure, Anya 's hand has found its way back into hers.

'

Twilight stakes out City Hall all day from a convenient nook outside the building. The moment he sees Yor exit, he begins pulling on all the fixings and details of his disguise. Soon, he 's a university student tailing her through a teeming crowd, looking harried as he tries to make his way to his final class of the day.

About half a mile from the city hall, Yor stops at a caf '. Twilight matches her pace, watching her from his peripherals as he orders a sausage from the vendor a short distance from the caf '. Yuri joins her ' in a matter of minutes. Target acquired.

Expecting them to exchange codes at the caf ', Twilight lingers for a little. When he checks back, the sister-brother duo are strolling down the sidewalk, away from Twilight. Slapping a bill down, he hurries after them.

Yuri watches Yor with rapt adoration as she smiles and talks about this-and-that. Twilight can 't read her lips properly with her head turned away from him. They 're also closing in on a residential area, a suburban row of houses that Twilight knows are owned by mostly middle-class families with one to two children. His disguise will stand out.

He falls back until Yor and Yuri are a pinprick far ahead of him. They must be halfway into the neighborhood when Yuri stops. Looks around. Twilight ducks behind a house and counts to ten. Once he steps back out, however, they 're gone.

Gritting his teeth, he abandons his lead. At the end of the day, all he needs is to confirm that Yor and Yuri are working together, and by all accounts, it seems that they are. But instead of feeling like a weight has been lifted, it feels like a burden 's been added.

'

Just past a little blue house, Yuri stops Yor. He doesn 't want to worry his kind, caring, precious, perfect sister, but he thinks there may be somebody following them. With practised serenity, he beams at her and waves an arm at the scenic yard they 're standing in front of.

'Isn 't it pretty? Do you want a house like that one day? '

The curve of her smile is so sweet, the light in her eyes, so honest. 'It is. It would be nice. I do like my home right now, though. '

Resentment bubbles up inside him, but he brushes it aside. Now isn 't the time for that, and that blasted man isn 't even around. From the corner of his eye, though, he can see somebody in the distance. A college student that he could swear has been tagging after them since the caf '.

'I 'll buy you a house like this one day! I promise! '

'Oh, don 't do that. Save your money for yourself. Please! '

'I swear on my life. '

'Oh, no. That 's too much. Thank you, though. '

The student has disappeared. Satisfied, Yuri starts down the road again. At a convenient crossroads, he grabs Yor 's wrist. 'I know a shortcut! ' Without waiting for an answer, he tugs her through a pristine lawn, mowing over a stranger 's immaculately arranged cosmos and aster. Yor gasps in dismay, and he apologizes profusely in his heart as he tries to outrun their stalker.

Soon they 're at his apartment. Still in the city, but on another end that gets less foot traffic. He lets Yor in first, looking both ways before shutting his door. 'Would you like tea? Coffee? ' He sets the kettle to a boil.

'Tea sounds nice. ' She gives him that little smile again. Giddy, Yuri pulls his best loose leaf tea out of the pantry cupboard, then warms two mugs. He 's about to start whistling when Yor asks, 'Yuri, have you ever heard of Garden? '

The mug in his hands creates a racket when it tumbles out of his hold and against the steel basin sink. Flustered, he reaches for it, only to burn his hand under the hot faucet water. Twisting the faucet back to cold, he runs his quickly numbing digits under the stream, then shuts the water. 'Garden? Like the myth? '

'Yes. '

'Of course I 've heard of it. But it 's ' ' He 's never been good at lying to his sister. Anybody else is a breeze, but not Yor. 'It sounds ridiculous. '

'You think so? '

'Well, it 's an ultra-violent urban myth. I guess it was made up to scare people straight. '

Yor is quiet for a while. 'What do people need to be scared straight about? '

Yuri opens his mouth to answer, only to find himself at a loss. He corrects course quickly. 'I don 't know, but I doubt you need to be worried about it! You 're faultless. A law-abiding citizen. '

She grows silent again. Then, so softly that he has to strain to hear, she asks, 'What do other countries think of Ostania? '

This, he doesn 't need to consider. 'We 're seen as having a very efficient and effective government, more than most countries out there. There 's a saying among foreigners: 'if you want it done, talk to an Ostanian. ' ' He beams.

But Yor seems disquieted. Yuri brings their freshly filled mugs to the seating area, sitting beside his sister. Her smile is gone, mouth pulled down at the corners instead. It 's strange that she 's asking about this. She 's never really understood these things, so why the sudden interest?

'My friend ' my friend said Ostania is a communist regime. '

Ah.

'Your friend? ' He narrows his eyes as he sips his tea. Yor gives no more information, only a short nod. Yuri can 't be upset with her; she 's too innocent. 'You should be careful who you make friends with. But no, Ostania isn 't a 'communist regime. ' ' He spits out the label like it 's dirty. 'That 's like saying a car is a wheel. '

Confusion mars her pretty features. Yuri sets his tea down. 'Ostania is a lot of things. We have aspects of communism, socialism, democracy, capitalism... our government wields its power carefully and with a lot of consideration. You don 't need to worry. And neither do your ' friends. '

'But my friends told me I can 't ask if Ostania is evil. And ' and women who don 't get married get investigated. '

'You wouldn 't have! ' Yuri blurts unthinkingly. Then he purses his lips. Had it ever come to that, he would have made sure to remove Yor 's name from whatever list she would have come up on. She can't know that though.

Her face reddens. 'Well, yes, because I got married. Out of love, ' she tacks on fervently.

Yuri clenches his fists. 'Yes. Well, your friends are right. You can 't say bad things about Ostania. You shouldn 't. But why would you? Ostania is wonderful. Our government takes care of everything quickly and thoughtfully, and we give the people what they want. At the cost of a few freedoms, certainly, but is that so bad? '

'Would you still feel that way if Garden were real? '

'Yes. '

'But Garden kills people, Yuri. '

'Bad people! '

'But everybody does bad things. Does that mean everybody is bad? Everybody deserves to die? '

'It 's ' it 's different on the political level. People with power, and money, and ' '

'But what if the people in power who are still alive have just gotten away with it? '

'Why are you asking? ' Yuri explodes. 'Yor, what ' what are you thinking? '

Like a hammer to glass, the tension shatters. Yor recedes, pulling her mug to her chest. 'I just ' I 've been thinking, that 's all. I was just curious. Garden isn 't real, anyway. '

Yuri nods in agreement. 'Stop thinking. You 're overthinking. It 's not that complicated. Good and bad, it doesn 't matter. Things just need to function, and Ostania functions. Well, even. ' Yor nods, and the guilt begins to roll in. 'I 'm sorry for shouting. I just ' I 'm scared to hear you thinking like this. You need to be more careful who you befriend. Don 't let anybody hear you think like that, okay? '

Just saying that, though, fills his gut with unease. How can he protect Yor from herself?

'Of course, ' she murmurs.

The stillness between them is a thick fog. He knows his sister is right there, but he can 't see her. Swallowing, he asks, 'How 's the family? Loi-loi and the chihuahua? '

Yor smiles, and bitter relief swells through Yuri. Like ships that have been commandeered through even the coarsest of seas, they return easily to navigable waters.

'

All three dogs and all two children and three bowls of ramen sit in a ring with Sylvia at the head. A circle has been cleared out of the apocalyptic landscape that is her apartment. Damian had a lot to say about it at first, but she 'd flicked his nose and told him to think before speaking.

'Well, I suppose you both want to go home now. It 's no fun hanging out with me when you have family waiting for you at home. '

Neither child says anything. In fact, both look around the room as if seeking a distraction. It unsettles her. Anya she understands, though she wishes there was nothing to understand. Damian, on the other hand 'while she 's aware of Donovan 's absence from his family and overall social unavailability, she knows nothing about Damian 's mother, other than that she 's the first lady and that her name is 'Melinda. ' Sylvia hasn 't heard of her in any of the political circles or underground news organizations since the fall of the National Unity Party.

'Damian? '

Damian mumbles something that Sylvia can 't hear. She leans in close, cocking her head. Shame turns his cheeks red as he says, 'Nobody 's waiting for me. '

Her brows furrow. With no political ties and no greater responsibilities, what could his mother possibly be doing? Not even fundraisers and general socialite obligations could take that much time away from the home. She 's sure it would be damaging to him if she asked though, so she turns to Anya to ask about Loid and Yor, only to find the little girl staring at her like she 's trying to deliver something with her eyes.

'What about your Mama? ' she asks bluntly. Sylvia reels away in surprise.

Damian grows even more red in the face. 'I don 't know. She 's not allowed home. '

'Oh, ' Anya says, leaning in to peer at him as she pats his back. 'I 'm sorry. I 'm sure your Mama loves you. '

His guilt twists into embarrassment. Sylvia has learned throughout the day that Damian doesn 't do vulnerability well, much to her amusement. 'Y 'you 're one to speak! You were crying all over the place today because I brought up your mother and father! '

Anya immediately sits back, anger radiating off her. 'You were mean to me! You said things you shouldn 't say, even if you 're mad! I hate when you do that. I hate when you 're mean! It makes me not want to be around you! '

Stricken, Damian 's jaw hangs. Anya fumes at him, never tearing her glare off him. 'I ' I 'm sorry, ' he mumbles.

Anya 's animosity fades. She stares, blinking a few times, before nodding. 'It 's okay. I know you try your best, Sy-On Boy. '

He immediately prickles, bottom lip jutting out. 'Don 't call me that. ' Anya grins.

'Well, ' Sylvia pipes in, sorry as she is to ruin the moment. 'If you two aren 't going home, then we 'll have to think of something to do! '

Both children look at each other. After a beat, they turn to face her. 'What if you read our book to us? ' suggests Anya, expression eager.

Sylvia nods her head. 'That 's not a bad idea. Give it here. '

Damian tosses her the book, but appears on the verge of speaking. Sylvia gives him a moment. Without raising his line of sight, he tells the flooring, 'If ' if you don 't have anybody to read for you at home, I could do it. '

Anya cocks her head. 'What do you mean? '

He looks like he might explode. Sylvia chooses not to step in. 'I could go to your house and help you read the book. '

Her mouth drops open, eyes bugging out so much Sylvia worries they may fall right out of their sockets. 'To

my

house? ' Anya breathes. '

You

come to

my

house? ' Damian shoots her an odd look, but nods. The little girl begins to laugh. 'Okay! ' She says between uncontrollable gasps. 'Yes! '

Damian looks relieved. Warmth floods Sylvia. Anya continues to laugh like she 's the only one on the inside of an inside joke.

'

As she makes her way back home, Yor dwells on what an utter failure her time with Yuri had been. She 's clearly upset him, made him worry, put him on guard, and as a result, none of her cares or concerns have been addressed. More importantly, she now has to find a way to put him at ease.

This day has felt longer than most.

Trudging up the apartment stairs, she works her key into the lock, turning the handle with a sigh. But when she opens the apartment door, her heart stops. None of the lights are on, but there 's a faint glow seeping out of the hallway. Frowning, she creeps towards the dim yellow luminescence. At the turn into the hall, she sees her door, slightly ajar, from which the warm light trickles out of.

There 's no sign of Anya though. Or Loid. But neither of them would ever go in her room anyway. Swiftly, silently, Yor backs into the kitchen and grabs a knife, spinning it into a reverse grip and holding it close to her chest defensively. She pads soundlessly to her door, nudging it open. It slides open inch by sluggish inch until she's staring at her husband from across the room.

His gun is raised eye-level and away from his body, both hands clasped tight around the grip. The muzzle points straight at her.

'Hello, Yor, ' greets Loid. 'Welcome home. '