His head hurt.

His observations, granted, were usually more acute than this one ' but, pounding migraine aside, the edges of his mind felt fuzzy and his limbs terribly heavy, so Loid wasn 't

that

surprised about his lack of coherent thoughts.

What he was

surprised

about, though, was waking up tied to what he guessed to be a chair, blindfolded, with no recollection of how he 'd gotten there in the first place. He ignored the dryness in his mouth and tried shifting in his seat, testing his bonds and the chair, and noticed three things.

The first was that his arms were tied together by a single length of rope encircling his wrists behind the back of his chair; the knots were too tight to be undone on his own, but at least his hands were bound together and not tied separately ' which would have made his escape much more difficult. His legs, miraculously, were still apparently free, since he felt no pressure on his clothes.

The second element he noticed was that his attempt at moving worsened the pain ' it changed into a hundred white-hot needles prickling at his brain, the pain insistant and high at one specific point at the back of his head, then spreading into a general ache into the rest of his skull. His temples pulsed with each heartbeat. He 'd been knocked out from behind, then ' the thought caused a wave of shame to wash over his already battered body. He was supposed to be one of Wise 's greatest spies, after all, and yet here he was, allowing someone to hit him from behind like an amateur. It certainly didn 't help that he still couldn 't remember what had happened before his capture.

The third thing that came to his mind, although a bit belatedly, was that the room he was held in was quiet. Very quiet. There wasn 't even the sound of a breath, the distant chirp of a bird ' he was utterly alone, basked in darkness and silence. It was both unnerving and a blessing in disguise; he had little ways to assess his environment since his ears, had yet to pick up something useful and his nose was clogged with the metallic smell of blood ' but at the same time it was easier to gather his thoughts, to try and gain his bearings back.

With his thoughts spinning as much as his head did, it was difficult to focus efficiently enough to think about an escape plan.

Hell

, even breathing felt difficult.

In.

And out.

In.

And out.

He had to get out. Yor and Anya might have been in danger.

That thought alone was enough to push the nausea aside momentarily, and make him assess his situation yet another time.

The chair was solid and cold, made out of some kind of metal, but it had rattled against the ground when he 'd tried to move ' it wasn't bolted down in any way. He heaved out a sigh of relief ' whoever had gotten the best of him, as humiliating as it was, was clearly an amateur. With his legs unbound and him left alone, he might as well have been half free already. This meant better chances to get out of here with minimal damage.

Just as he 'd realized this, another question came to his mind ' which, really, was starting to get painful, since he still felt like he was being rocked in a boat sailing against a raging storm. Concussion, probably.

Focus

, he tried telling himself again. He couldn 't afford to lose more than than he already had.

Think, Twilight.

Which of his identities had been the target?

Loid Forger

, a mere psychologist and parent of a child who went to the prestigious Eden Academy, or

Twilight

, a cryptic shadow whose name was only pronounced by the most daring? Considering that he was still alive, he dared to consider it was the former ' it didn 't make it a certainty, though, and he couldn 't afford to make any hasty guess. He 'd have to pull the information he needed out of his own captors ' mouth.

A door slammed open, somewhere to his right - the sound was loud and resonated weirdly against the walls, a distorted echo that was characteristic of metal. As Loid heard someone shuffle inside before closing the door with the same violence, he was hit with the smell of fish and salt.

Somewhere in the port, then.

The blindfold was pulled away in an abrupt gesture, and Loid was momentarily blinded as light flooded his vision violently. He blinked it away, pushing the light-induced pain aside, and was finally able to fully assess his surroundings. He seemed to be held in the very center of an empty warehouse, his only other companion being a bare-faced man waving a gun in his face with an almost animalistic growl.

Typical.

This wasn 't good, though. Despite not being at the best of his abilities, Loid had only needed a mere second to print the lines of the stranger 's face into memory ' which meant either the man had been stupid enough not to think of covering his face in order to remain anonymous '

Or whoever he was supposed to be at the moment was not supposed to get out of here alive.

He pushed the thought aside ' whatever the reason for his presence here was, the opportunity to escape and go back home would present itself soon enough. He just had to be patient.

'What 's your name? '

Loid blinked, needing a second to realize the words were directed at him ' which, in retrospect, should have been a bit obvious, since he was the only other one in the room, along with the newcomer. He was

indeed

not at the top of his abilities right now.

And wasn 't that the question of the century, really?

'If you 've got me there, ' he drawled out, although more out of sluggishness than actual sarcasm, 'surely, you should know my name already. '

Ironically enough, the pain that came after the blow was of a precious help ' it cleared his head, as if dragging him from the slumbers of his own mind, and reminded him of one precious detail. As he remained impassive, the other man hissed in pain, shaking his hand and blowing on his knuckles.

Loid Forger

was inconspicuous enough, almost defenseless; but

Twilight

had several aces up his sleeves.

Or rather,

within

his sleeves.

He 'd been searched thoroughly, probably ' and yet not thoroughly enough for his assailant to find the tiny blade sewn in at the edge of his sleeve. Taking it out was a hard task, with the numbness in his fingers and the burning ache in his arms, but Loid was practiced, and it would be out in a mere minute. The cold edge was almost comforting against his skin, like an old friend that had found its way back to his hand. He missed his gun.

'Don 't think you 're so special. '

Ah, right. He wasn 't alone.

'You assholes think you 're so much better because your damn kids go to that stupid school, don 't you? ' the man continued, seemingly unaware of Loid 's quite obvious lack of focus on their one-sided conversation. 'Hate to break it to you, but you 're all the same; fucking loaded, and so cowardly you 'll be begging for your life in a few minutes. '

That, at least, answered his question. It was relieving to know his cover hadn 't been compromised ' the last thing he wished was for Operation Strix to be at risk, and for Yor and Anya to be in danger.

'You want money? ' he rasped out. The blade was working slowly against the ropes around his wrists ' it small size might have been extremely convenient to be hidden, but it made sawing through the tightly knotted fabric more difficult. He needed more time.

'You bet I do. '

Loid couldn 't help it. 'How am I supposed to pay the ransom if I 'm there? '

The other man 's fist twitched, and for a second he thought he was going to be hit again. 'Don 't play smart. You might have played the hero earlier, but my guys are still out there looking for the other two. You won 't act that smug very long, trust me. '

He bit back a frown, trying to keep the sudden anger and concern from etching upon his face. He trusted Yor. Trusted that she ' d be able to protect Anya, like she had always done. But his memory was still being unhelpful, and he was as unable as ever to remember what had happened. What if, like him, they 'd gotten captured by now? What if any of them was hurt?

Something flashed into his mind ' just a blur of colors, at first, along with the echo of distorted voices. He 'd been scared, he remembered. Not for himself, but for Yor and Anya, as they were backed into a corner and facing guns.

Anya had been terrified when he 'd ordered Yor to go to safety with the child, and she 'd begged him to stay with them.

A sharp sting brought him back to reality, and he exhaled sharply, mentally cursing himself for getting distracted while handling a blade he could not see.

Worry was an enemy, in his current predicament. It 'd get in the way, make him sluggish and uncoordinated.

But anger? Anger would be a

fuel

.

The newfound feeling must have translated on his face in some way, because his captor quickly took notice of it.

'Don 't worry, ' the guy sneered, turning once more to Loid, waving the gun in his face once ' a futile threat, since the security was on. 'It 's only a matter of time before we catch your pretty wife and the brat. I 'm sure you 'll be much more conciliant if we start getting a little rough with ' '

The rope binding his wrists snapped, and Loid 's murderous expression faded ' even if, to be more precise, it was

Loid

himself who faded away altogether.

In his stead,

Twilight

bolted.

It was more of an execution than an actual fight; the man, who 'd been foolish enough to stand alone in the same room as his hostage, might have been strong enough to stop Loid Forger, but he was no match for Twilight.

He put in his own blows just a little more force than necessary ' something he 'd blame on his concussion and stress rather than for the fury coursing through his veins, of course ' and soon enough, his former captor was little more than a groaning heap of battered flesh and limbs, sprawled on the dirty ground of the warehouse.

Twilight ' or Loid, he didn 't know who he was anymore ' panted hard, staring unblinkingly at the unmoving body by his feet in case he 'd see a suspicious movement. His ears were ringing, now, and the migraine spreading through his skull burnt like ice and fire at once.

A fireshot rang outside, barely muffling the sheet-metal that served as walls, followed by insistent barking. Twilight tensed up all over again, realizing the accomplices might have decided to come back. He had to act fast.

He kneeled next to the unconscious man, ignoring the nausea that rolled in his stomach at the movement, and took a grip of the gun he 'd been eyeing since his former captor 's arrival.

Something slammed against the thin walls, and someone screamed, before the shout morphed into a cacophony of garbled noises.

He stood back up, admittedly with more difficulty than he would have liked, and faced the door, arms raised and coiled with tension, gun pointing at head-level on the door.

It was sheer survival instinct that made him step aside just as the door was literally propelled forwards in a deafening clang, flying past him with the velocity of a newly-kicked football. Light flooded the room and he winced, eyes squinting in an attempt to make out the silhouette at the entrance. His heart skipped a beat at the

very

familiar shape of that shadow.

Twilight didn 't lower his gun. It could have been a hallucination, or a disguise - and his head injury might have compromised him, yes, but he wouldn 't allow carelessness to get the better of him.

Not when he had people to go back to.

But the Yor lookalike just seemed so real ' now that his sight had adjusted to the sudden light, he could see her wearing a long pale, pink coat, her leg still raised in perfect equilibrium after she 'd just kicked down an entire plate of reinforced metal, her eyes harboring a cold edge that was entirely foreign to him.

Strangely enough, it was this last part that convinced him she was very much real.

Her gaze softened upon the sight of him, though, the hard lines of her jaw melting into a smile, her eyes widening with recognition.

'Loid, ' Yor breathed out. It sounded like pure relief and warmth, and it made his head spin all over again.

He tried to move, tried to say her name, but black spots danced around him. Before he could attempt anything stupid, like falling over, his arm was passed around solid shoulders, and a hand snaked around his waist for a steadying hold. His gun was still in his hand, and he realized she 'd taken the side that wouldn 't interfere with his aim.

He tried moving again, if only to look at her, and felt his legs shake in effort.

'Ah, Yor, ' he murmured apologetically, even as she adjusted her firm grip on his body, peeking out from under his arm to look at him. There was a speck of blood on her nose, although it was probably not hers. 'Sorry. I think I 'm going to pass out now. '

Thankfully, she didn 't seem to panic at the announcement; instead, she nodded, saying something he wasn 't able to catch ' but her voice was strong and comforting at once, and that alone was enough of a reassurance. If Yor was there, then Anya was safe too.

He closed his eyes, black spots morphing into a blanketing darkness, and felt himself grow heavy.

They were safe.

It was all that mattered.

He was floating.

He ignored how long it 'd been since this realization, but he didn 't have the motivation to go further than this single thought. He was unaware of many things, actually, including where he was, what day he was, or why he was like this to begin with. There was a faint pounding at the back of his head; not enough to be truly painful, but present enough to be an annoying disturbance, and his mouth was dry.

There was a light snore, in the distance ' maybe his own, although he couldn 't say for sure.

Warmth brushed against his forehead gently, and he leant into the touch with a sigh. This felt nice.

And then there was a slight, insistent pressure on both of his cheeks, suspiciously hand-shaped and child-sized, and Loid 's eyes snapped open. He found himself staring at Anya in her full glory, her face

very

close to him, indeed holding his head between her tiny palms and watching him with a resolution of steel.

Someone was speaking on the side, hushed, frantic whispers that were attempting to chide the young girl, and he followed the sound of the voice until he found Yor on his left.

The child squealed, a sound way too high and loud for his liking. 'Papa 's awake! '

'Anya! ' Yor exclaimed softly, horrified. 'What are you doing? '

She turned to him, her expression turning guilty and apologetic. 'I 'm sorry we woke you up. I don 't know why she suddenly climbed on the bed like this. '

'He liked when you touched his face! ' Anya argued. She had yet to remove her hands from Loid 's face. 'I was doing the same. '

Yor blushed, a pretty crimson that spread across her entire face ' Loid was pretty sure he would have, too, hadn 't he been so out of it.

'I appreciate the intention, Anya, ' he croaked out. His voice was rough from disuse. 'But this might be a bit too much. '

'Oh. ' She seemed to consider something, and peeled one hand off his face with great reluctance. 'Like this? '

A chuckle forced its way out of his chest. 'Yeah. Better. '

There was a shift by his feet, a massive blur of white he belatedly recognized as Bond. The dog, half hidden behind Anya, had the decency to at least appear a little guilty ' he was very well aware he was not allowed on the bed ' but it still didn 't deter him from wagging his tail with such enthusiasm that his entire body rocked with it, along with the bed.

'Bond was the one who found you, ' Yor explained, gratitude flooding her voice. 'I came home to leave Anya with Franky before trying to go looking for you, and he refused to let me go outside without him. I don 't know how, but he just knew where to go. '

Loid hummed, remembering faintly the barks he 'd heard outside the warehouse. He moved his arm, the limb feeling ridiculously heavy, and reached out to the dog with an extended palm; Bond met him halfway with a whine, licking him before nudging at his hand with insistence in a request for pets.

He could only oblige. 'Good boy. Thank you. '

Yor smiled, only for it to fade slightly as she took in his apparent exhaustion.

'How are you feeling? You must still be in pain. '

'I 'm fine, ' he said honestly. His entire body was aching and his head was still throbbing, indeed, but he felt at peace at the mere sight of their strange, not-so-fake little family. 'I 'm afraid my memory still retains some blanks, though. '

'Ah, ' she let out, shaking her head in understanding. 'You shouldn 't worry too much about it. Your friend Franky had one of your friends come and examine you. The doctor said you were concussed, and that it was possible you wouldn 't remember everything that had happened shortly before and after the blow you received. I 'll make some tea and tell you everything I know, alright? '

This sounded like an acceptable plan, so he nodded in acknowledgement and gave her a grateful smile.

The afternoon went by slowly, and Anya was soon asleep against him, curled against his side, her face hidden in his clothes, and her tiny fists clutching his sleeve. She was snoring softly. Loid was tired himself, too but found it impossible to even want to sleep ' he felt oddly content, immobilized as he was by the child under his arm and the heavy dog sleeping on his legs, a warm mug in his free hand.

Yor chatted quietly with him, sitting next to him on the edge of the bed and recounting the events; they 'd stumbled out of pure misfortune on a group of thugs that had been targeting families whose children went to Eden. They 'd been vastly outnumbered, especially since the men had been holding guns ' not wanting to risk Yor 's and Anya 's safety, Loid had made them run away to a secure location, shielding them from potential gunshots and pretending to be an easy target.

There was tension in her voice when she told him about when she 'd realized he was missing, and guilt washed over him; he placed his mug on his nightstand, and rested his hand on her knee, pressing it softly in apology.

'I 'm just glad you 're safe, ' she finished with a whisper, the corner of her mouth trembling in emotion. 'I imagined the worst. '

'I 'm sorry for worrying you, ' he told her, earnestly. But he wasn 't sorry for protecting her and Anya.

'Just ' ' she started before trailing off, and took the hand on her knee between his palms, intertwining her fingers with his. 'Don 't do this again. Please. '

Whatever answer he would have formulated was changed into a heavy yawn that pulled at his mouth, making her chuckle quietly.

'You need to rest, ' she told him gently, but with a firmness that dared him to argue. She brushed a strand of hair off his forehead, then adjusted the blanket around him, before her hand came to rest on his again. 'We 'll take care of you. '

He knew they would ' and yet the words caused his heart to soar in yearning.

'Yor. '

She hummed in acknowledgement, looking at him questioningly. He opened his mouth, ready to thank her, but stopped himself midway.

A simple '

thank you '

just didn 't seem appropriate.

A mere '

I love you '

would have been an understatement.

Instead, possibly emboldened by the physical contact they 'd share and the bliss-inducing knowledge of being

home

and

safe

, he brought her hand to his mouth, and pressed his lips against her skin softly. It was a quick gesture, light and purely instinctive, and her hand was back down again before he could even chide himself for what he 'd just done.

'I heard they have a new exhibition at the museum, ' he started before Yor could say anything. 'It 's about medieval weapons. Would you like to go there with me, tomorrow? '

He finally dared to look at her ' her lips were parted into an o-shape, cheeks colored into a deep red, eyes wide and surprised ' but then the smile she gave him could have powered entire cities for the next decade.

'I would love that, ' she replied, with a fondness that went straight to his chest. 'But only if you 're feeling better by then. '

He had a feeling he would, somehow; if only to make her smile again, to buy Anya the most bizarre souvenir from the gift shop, to get Bond the most impressive dog-fitted medieval disguise.

He could see it, now; he 'd spent years hiding, hurting, killing for the better good. He 'd been used as a pawn, as a weapon, ready to be discarded upon his death, something that would maybe never get to discover what a normal life tasted like ' and he 'd accepted it, a long time ago.

But there was no pretending when he prepared breakfast at the break of dawn or gave Yor impromptu cooking lessons; no hiding when he helped Anya after a difficult night or bathed Bond. In the course of the past few months, he 'd discovered within himself a softness whose existence had been entirely ignored until then.

He 'd learnt he could genuinely enjoy their presence, the comfort they brought, without having to use it as an excuse for the sake of his mission.

Had learnt to care, and to be cared for.

As atypical as it was, there was no falsehood about their family; if anything, he felt a bit ashamed it 'd taken him so long for him to realize it. But now that he 'd come to fully realize and accept it, nothing would stop him from guarding this soft, fragile thing they 'd built together.

Loid might have been only a cover; Twilight, a codename.

But he was a Forger at heart.

And he would give everything for the ones that shared his name.