Yor wakes to a bright splash of pink and something fuzzy tickling her nose. Blinking like she 's trying to see through a mist, the world eventually becomes clear, and she finds Anya slumbering peacefully beside her. The furry intruder against her face is just Anya's hat, cotton ball pressed against her temple. Bond snores at the foot of the bed as though he could be nowhere safer.

Sitting up, Yor raises a hand to her cheek. Imprints of Anya 's bedding and pillowcase line her skin, and she 's still wearing her city hall uniform. Smiling, she creeps out to prepare breakfast. Anya ambles out of the hallway not long after, rubbing her groggy eyes.

'School, ' she grumbles to nobody in particular, though she looks like she has a bone to pick with somebody.

After breakfast, Yor hands Anya her lunch, then accompanies her to the bus. When that 's on its way, she heads off to the city hall. Camilla, Sharon, and Millie are already in the office, Sharon nursing a cup of steaming hot coffee, taking sips without flinching.

'My brother keeps trying to set me up with losers, ' says Millie, grimacing.

'Your brother keeps trying to set you up with people he gets along with and likes, ' Sharon says aptly.

'Yes. That 's what I said. Losers. '

'At least he 's trying, ' Camilla interjects, holding up two cards. 'Which color? Pink? Or purple? '

Yor stands among them, but her thoughts have drifted off at the mention of siblings. Loid 's words from last night echo in her head, and she loses herself once again in a vicious cycle of questions she can 't answer. Is she the only one who 's never doubted her country? She can 't be, can she?

Without thinking, she asks, 'Is Ostania evil? '

All three girls freeze, faces slack, bodies stiff, and expressions fearful. They look as though she 's just announced the end of the world. Yor burns under the intensity of their stares.

Sharon is the first to move, shutting the door quickly and coming right back. 'You can 't just ask that, Yor. '

'Why ' why not? '

Camilla is pale as a ghost. Millie answers in her stead, equally as shaken. 'If the wrong person hears you, they 'll ' well, something will happen to you. '

'What will happen to me? '

Millie squirms, face pained. 'Nobody knows. I heard they torture you. Pull off your nails. Your teeth. '

'Fear-mongering, ' Sharon scoffs.

'No! ' Camilla shakes her head. 'Dominic told me ' he told me he knows some people who work closer to all of that, close enough that it might not be just rumors. It 's not ' it 's not

not

true. ' She looks at Yor like a dog that 's been attacked one too many times. 'Why are you asking? '

'I 'I 'm sorry. ' The need to backpedal itches at her. 'My friend asked me the same thing, and I ' I 've never thought about it. Have you? '

'I try not to, ' Sharon murmurs, lips thin.

Millie carries the same rigidness in her shoulders. 'You should be careful of your friend. ' Her eyes are worried.

'I 'm sorry. ' She can 't ask just anybody about this, but who can she trust if not for these three? The thought of confronting Loid makes her stomach twist in knots. Then she remembers what set off her ruminating 'siblings. Brothers. Her brother. Yuri will know. She 'll call Yuri later and ask if they can meet.

'It 's fine, ' Camilla cuts in quickly with more color cards, as if they 'll banish the mood with their vibrant, coordinated hues. 'Back to what we were talking about before. Which color, Yor? '

Both cards are only different by a hair. Yor deliberates with the kind of care that suggests she 's stuck with her choice for life. 'The one on the left. '

'Wrong! ' snaps Camilla, yanking the cards out from under her nose. 'We already decided! I knew you weren 't listening! '

'Oh! What did you decide on? '

'These! ' Pleased, Camilla lays down a silver card and a navy blue card. Then her eye twitches. 'On second thought ' ' She takes them back. 'I 've changed my mind. '

'You always do this, ' Millie whines.

'It 's not easy planning a party!

You

think of two good colors that compliment each other off the top of your head! '

'I 've always liked red and black, ' says Yor.

Sharon nods carefully, contemplating the pairing. 'That could work. A Halloween party. '

Camilla 's mouth puckers in thought. 'The timing is perfect, too. A month and a half is just what I need to organize everything. '

'A costume party would be so trendy! ' Millie squeals. 'And what if I meet my true love but he 's wearing a mask?! '

'Looks like we 've found ourselves a winner. ' Sharon glances at Yor with an easygoing smile. When she winks, Yor flushes with pride.

'

Every time Becky talks to Anya, she has to repeat her name ten thousands of times to get her attention. While Anya is hard to get a hold of even in the best of times, Becky knows something is very clearly wrong. She suspects Damian might have something to do with it, because during English, he and Anya sit an unusual distance apart, like magnets with their same-sides against each other.

This will not do.

'I 'm going to the bathroom, ' Becky says, slipping out of her seat. 'Stay here. ' Not that her command matters. Anya is so visibly lost in thought that she probably wouldn 't have noticed if Becky left without telling her.

Forget the bathroom!

Becky marches up to Damian and folds her arms. Damian looks up at her through his lashes, a thunderstorm gathering over his face. 'What is it, Blackbell? '

'I know you 're responsible for this. ' She jabs a finger in Anya 's direction. 'She was just fine the other day. ' It 's not exactly true, but relative to the situation at hand, 'fine ' seems adequate.

He reddens like a cherry tomato. 'How is it my fault?! '

'Tell me what you said, and I 'll list it all out for you. '

Damian glares daggers at her syrup-y sweet tone. Becky stretches her phony smile just a little wider. 'I left our last meeting early because she wasn 't making progress! I wasn 't just going to wait around for her! '

Her face drops like an anvil. 'You just abandoned her?! ' Growling, Becky grabs Damian by the scruff of his uniform and begins to shake him. Damian 's yelling and spluttering gathers the attention of everybody in the room but one.

'

You 're

the one who put your hand up! I was going to partner with her! But

you

raised your hand! ' snaps Becky. 'So

you

make this right, or I will make you rue the day you left me stuck with George Glooman! '

'Hey! ' A tinny voice calls out from somewhere in the cafeteria.

'Jeez, alright! ' Damian smacks Becky 's hands, and she releases him. 'I 'll take care of it! '

'You better, ' she hisses, striding back to her seat beside Anya.

'

It 's been five minutes since Twilight walked into her office and sat himself down in the seat across from her. Five minutes of complete and utter silence. Sylvia lets the second hand of the clock tick five more times before she reaches for the bottommost drawer of her filing cabinet.

'I followed the target to the point of interest last night. '

Sylvia tries not to huff as she abandons her file cabinet. 'Yor? To Olif 's headquarters? '

Twilight shoots her an unhappy look. 'Yes. I followed her in at 1830 hours. A fight en ' '

'Followed her in? How did you get there? Isn 't it 15 miles away? Don 't tell me you walked! '

'I acted as her transport, conveniently letting me off at the same location ' '

' 'Acted as her transport? ' '

Twilight scowls at her. 'I wore a disguise and drove the cab she took. '

Sylvia looks at him in distaste. 'Stalking your own wife. How romantic. '

'Quit heckling me. ' Twilight narrows his eyes at her.

'Fine. It 's just been some time since I 've watched you panic. '

'I 'm not panicking. I 'm thinking out loud. '

'Of course. Thinking out loud as you panic. '

He sighs, shutting his lids and rubbing his temples. 'Will you let me finish? ' He opens his eyes, glowering at her, and she gestures for him to continue. 'A fight ensued, and I left at 0100 hours. '

'So you 've killed her. '

'

No!

'

Heaving her own sigh, Sylvia rends open her whiskey cabinet, pulling out a filled handle and a faceted glass. In a bout of decorum, she tips the amber bottle towards Twilight, but he shakes his head. Shrugging, she pours two fingers for herself. 'Then why are you telling me this? '

His brow twitches. 'I 'm not able to dispose of her without months of preparation in advance. ' When Sylvia raises her eyebrows, he nods. 'She 's skilled. I offered her immunity if she joined WISE, but she ' '

'You asked her to defect?! ' Sylvia chokes out, then grabs her handkerchief to dab at her face and desk.

'It made sense at the time, ' Twilight murmurs. 'There was nobody around to hear. '

'That is ' '

Good grief,

Sylvia thinks to herself. Where does she even begin? 'That is its own process, Twilight! Either of you could have been overheard! Fighting is explainable to the authorities, but treason? And recruiting a civilian 'much less an

enemy '

is its own entire procedure, with

extremely

exacting protocol, and you ' you know that! You just decided to throw all that out, hm? '

'I told you, it made sense at the time. It doesn 't matter, anyway. She turned it down. '

Sylvia scoffs. 'Yes, well, I would too! ' When Twilight looks at her incredulously, Sylvia sends the look right back to sender. 'You asked her to give up everything she knows! And if she 's not just an assassin, but an assassin that's part of Garden, which it sounds like she is if you weren't able to dispose of her ' 'Twilight 's face twists in horror ' 'she 's either more inculcated than the average civilian, or she 's completely naive. I 'm guessing it 's the latter, knowing her. That 's your only saving grace here. '

'You hardly know her. '

Stilling, Sylvia tips her head to the side, examining Twilight over the rim of her glass. She sets her cup down slowly, gently, letting her pinky rest first on the table before placing it on the tabletop. 'Not everybody is you, Twilight. Not everybody lives with their guard up, knows how to be something other than themselves, or compartmentalizes every aspect of their life.

'Some people show you exactly who they are from the start, and if I 've understood Yor as well as I think I do, how she became an assassin is nothing like how you became an agent. Perhaps you were both motivated by the same thing to come to such a similar decision, but you were willing and aware. Yor must have needed something 'desperately. That woman wouldn 't hurt a fly unless it was holding her family hostage. '

Twilight 's eyes are distant. His lips part, his brows furrow. Her admonition seems to be getting through to him.

Suddenly he 's on his feet, one palm flat against the desk. 'There 's something I need to do. ' Sylvia raises her eyebrows. 'She said she became an assassin for her brother. Her brother is an SSS agent. They may be collaborating. '

Her mouth drops open as he flies out the door in a blur of coat and tie. Clenching her fists, Sylvia shuts her eyes, breathes in on a count of 10, then releases her breath like a bottlenecked balloon. Once her temper reaches homeostasis, she pours herself two more fingers of whiskey.

Afternoon slides in empty, her desk clock ticking its quiet song as she scribbles in form after form when Twilight returns in much the same way he left: abruptly and loudly. Victory lights his face as the door bangs open 'the sheen in his eyes is reminiscent of the first time he 'd marked a target in training 'but at this point, Sylvia can 't be sure what victory means to him.

'She 'll be meeting with Yuri tomorrow evening. '

'The SSS agent? '

'Yes, her brother. ' He 's seated now, knee shaking like a child with too much energy, agitating her desk. His stare bores into the grain. 'I tapped the city hall phones. It 's a lead. I have a favor to ask of you. ' Sylvia narrows her eyes. 'Franky has a date tomorrow, so he can 't take Anya. Could you? I don 't expect it to be long. '

Twilight lifts his gaze to hers, and Sylvia leans away, mouth parting. In the sky blue of them 'usually so reserved, so collected 'is a shade of what she can 't see as anything other than desperation. The question slips out of her unbidden.

'Twilight ' do you want to kill Yor? '

'I have to ' '

'But do you want to? '

A muscle in his jaw works. 'I 'd rather not kill anybody if it can be help ' '

'But do you want to kill

Yor? '

Her mentee clenches his hands so hard, his knuckles bleed white. It takes an eternity, but finally, he says, 'I want peace. '

'For who? '

Twilight reels back as if she 's taken an unexpected swing at him. 'For Westalis! '

Sylvia stares at him until the second hand has moved from five to seven. She doesn 't understand. She wishes she did. She 's spent the entirety of her life wanting the choice he 's been given. 'Fine. '

'Fine? ' echoes Twilight, frowning.

'I 'll look after Anya. '

His shoulders sag. 'Thank you. '

She nods, lifting a hand and motioning to the door. He rises like he expects her to take it back, but once he 's at the door, he gives up, turning his back on her. The door clicks shut this time, no loud finale. Sylvia stares at the cement wall opposite her, wondering why people build cages around themselves.

'

Halfway through shoving her things into her book bag, a pair of gleaming shoes steps into her field of view. Anya scoots back and looks up. Damian looms over her, corners of his lips turned down.

'Meet me in the library tomorrow during lunch. '

Arm still reaching into her bag, she blinks at him. 'I 'm not ready ' '

'I don 't care, we 're meeting. '

'But you said '"

'I said I don 't care. '

Why does she have to make everything so difficult?!

Anya shrinks back in her seat. 'Okay. '

For some reason, Damian stares at her like she 's done something wrong, which only makes her pull her bag closer to her chest. 'What? '

'N 'nothing! ' he spits before storming off.

As if that isn 't strange enough 'it 's not Yor waiting for her at home today, but Loid. The moment Anya walks in through the door, Bond winding his way up to her, she spots him in his usual armchair, legs crossed, newspaper up. At the sound of the door, he looks up, paper wilting over his hold.

Anya creeps past the kitchen, too scared to blink. The man in the chair looks like her papa. Is wearing her papa 's house slippers. Her papa 's white t-shirt and black pants. 'Papa? '

'Anya, ' he smiles, and Anya feels all the weight inside her lift off. She returns his smile, racing up to him, arms out.

'You 're home! '

Loid meets her on the ground, enveloping her in his arms. She buries her face in his shoulder, insides inflating with happiness. Warmth like sunshine on a late Spring day radiates through her.

'What would you like for dinner? '

'Ice cream! Peanut butter and chocolate! '

He laughs, and the sound is like an angels ' choir. When he stands, her eyes follow, neck craning back to see. She never wants to never be able to see him again. 'Ice cream for dinner? Maybe this weekend. '

Ruffling her hair, he makes his way to the kitchen, pulling produce and utensils and vessels out from their hiding places. 'What vegetables will you eat? '

She 'll eat any vegetable tonight. It could be eggplant and it would probably taste good right now. Brimming with this uncorkable feeling in her chest, she clings close to his side, Bond right at her heels, panting with a similar curve to his mouth. 'Whatever you want! '

'You 're agreeable tonight. ' He smiles.

Anya can 't help it 'she smiles too. 'I 'll set the table! Will Mama be home? '

'Not yet, she has to stay late tonight. '

'Are you and Mama talking again? '

There 's a pause. Anya glances at Loid from the table where she 's just set her plate. The smile on her papa 's face is fixed. 'We are. '

Somehow, her body floats higher. She seats herself first, legs jiggling while she waits. It 's an entire lifetime until he sets the dishes out and sits across from her, where Yor usually sits. Anya serves herself one heaping spoonful of everything. Never has she been more eager to eat peas.

And when they 're in her mouth, she knows she was right. They 're good. Better than that, even. They taste like gems. Like how she thinks emeralds would taste. Maybe she actually likes peas. Maybe it's the best thing she's ever tasted. Opening her eyes over her spoon, she revels in the relaxed way Loid watches her. Then she swallows and beams at him.

It sounds like the best colors in the world when he laughs again. Then he helps himself to the meal, taking more care than Anya had. On the final dish, he, like Anya, takes a healthy serving of peas. Each green pearl balances precariously on top of and against each other. Just as Loid reaches his plate, a few jostle off the spoon, rolling underneath the table.

Bond makes quick work of it, lapping up each pea and then looking up when he 's done. Loid scoffs like Bond 's made an embarrassing joke. 'You knew that was coming. ' Bond cocks his head. Shakes it.

'That 's not how Bond 's power is, ' explains Anya. Loid looks at her, confusion tilting his features, and she keeps going. 'He doesn 't see everything, and he can 't choose. Sometimes he just sees something. ' His brows crease, so Anya adds hastily, 'It 's not a lot! '

'I see, ' he nods like a bobblehead on the last of its momentum. 'You said before that you also can 't control when you can read thoughts? '

She nods. 'More than Bond though, I think. '

'Have you seen Yor 's thoughts? '

'Yes! '

He leans in, so she does too. 'What have you seen? '

Anya nods with her whole body. 'Mama 's thoughts are funny! She 's funny. Most of the time, she 's just thinking a lot. Too much! '

'Recently, too? '

Anya hesitates. Recently, Yor 's thoughts have been sadder. More broken up. Should she tell him that? Will it make him sad? Upset him? Worry him? Eyes flickering over his features, she tries to gauge if it 's the right thing to do. But in her apprehension, she notices the lines on his forehead, the way his smile doesn 't look quite like it did just minutes ago. Something screws tight between her ribs. 'Mostly her thoughts are worried, ' she eventually says, hedging her honesty.

'And Bond hasn 't seen anything about what she might do soon, either? '

Despite the slant of his mouth and the ease of his voice, there 's something in his gaze that makes Anya want to pull away. To hide herself. As she searches his face, her mind sparks.

A blue sky. Clouds drifting past like waves over the sea. Silent. Slow. The tempest of questions, answers, feelings, expectations, frustrations, opinions 'even hopes 'that usually barrage her papa's brain are nowhere to be found. It doesn't feel like him. It feels... intentional.

Anya sinks back against her seat, eyes darting away. 'No. ' She means to say it normally, but it comes out like there 's no more air in her lungs. When she meets Loid 's scrutiny again, he 's also sitting back against his chair now.

His smile is the same as before. The lines on his forehead are gone. But his eyes are just a little farther away. 'It 's interesting how your powers work. Bond's too. Don 't forget to finish your peas. '

Anya nods, bringing a spoonful to her mouth. They taste like cardboard.