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How was it that he'd once survived through days of torture less exhausting than the events of earlier?
Loid was grateful their homecoming had been a quiet affair. Anya didn’t seem to completely understand what went on because she deemed the whole thing boring by the lack of fighting but she’d been glad to have her parents back in time to feed her dinner. A comment that made him roll his eyes at the time but more out of fondness than incredulity, long used to his daughter’s antics by now.
He couldn’t help but notice the silence from Yor’s side of the table while they were eating. Yor wasn’t completely closed off, no, she’d pick at her plate but dutifully answered Anya’s every question and comment with a small smile before it faded away behind paltry bites. Loid couldn’t hold it against her. He’d be the same if he were like her, a civilian recovering from their first brush of true and real danger.
Loid tried to direct their daughter’s attention toward more positive table conversation topics. “And how were things with you and Franky? He didn’t let you get into the ice cream again, did he?”
Anya’s nose scrunched in displeasure. “Scruffy head said Anya wasn’t allowed any after what happened last time.”
“You mean when we came back home and found you puking your guts out? It’s a wonder why he didn’t repeat the same mistake twice.”
She pursed her lips in a pout. “It was chocolate peanut ice cream! How was Anya supposed to know she was eating too much?”
He shot her an unamused look from over his glass of water. “The entire empty pint was next to you.”
“You focus too much on unimportant things, Papa,” Anya sniffed in a tone that relayed she was emulating someone else she’d seen. Probably whatever cartoon she’d been watching or maybe the Blackbell girl was passing off bad habits.
“Uh huh.”
She shook her head and turned to look back at Yor, opening her mouth and—
“Eat your dinner, Anya.”
She stopped to throw an annoyed look his way before huffing and stabbing the spaghetti in front of her. Anya chewed noisily, red sauce smeared on her chin that somehow got specks on her left ear, and swallowed audibly. Again, she opened her mouth to say—
“And your salad.”
From his peripheral vision he observed Yor’s shoulder’s loosening minutely and mentally he patted himself on the back for making the right call.
Anya on the other hand glared at him but one look from Loid told her he meant business and she sent her dinner an ugly grimace. She knew she wasn’t going to win against him though and stuffed her mouth with a healthy bite of leafy greens and vegetables.
Yor’s plate had been barely touched in comparison to Anya’s and his. Dinner was a simple spaghetti and light salad, he hadn’t bothered making meatballs because he reasoned the less uncomplicated the meal the easier it’d be to digest it. He remembered in the past after excruciating missions how he’d preferred a plain ration bar and sleep over any gourmet buffet.
Glancing her way, Loid was absolutely not worried about the state of his wife. No, he felt confident she’d bounce back to her old self in no time. She just needed time to digest and come to terms that the world wasn’t as safe as she’d originally thought. What a hard lesson it was to bear.
And no, the realization that he’d been dangerously close to his wife being shot did not make his heart beat quicken imperceptibly with fear. And if for some reason it did then it was only because Operation Strix falling apart this far into the mission would be a terrible missed opportunity.
“Were you scared, Mama?”
He cursed mentally. He’d lost track of making sure Anya was sufficiently distracted to grab Yor’s attention—he must be more tired than he thought.
Across from him, Yor startled slightly. “Scared?” She murmured, sounding lost in thought.
Anya nodded furiously. “Mama’s so strong! Anya bets Mama wasn’t scared one bit!”
The fork Yor had been mindlessly twirling clattered onto her plate, the sound startling loud and silencing all at once.
“I…” Yor looked lost. Spooked. A flash of something across her face made her seem out of reach from Loid’s reading ability. Her eyes met his and he tried to give her an encouraging smile but this, it seemed, unsettled her further because she dabbed her mouth unnecessarily with her napkin before abruptly standing. “I’m sorry, I’m not…I’m very tired, excuse me.”
Yor flew so fast from the table that even Bond perked up from his bed, looking curiously at the source of excitement.
Anya looked uncertain, borderline devastated. “Did Anya say something wrong?” She asked her father innocently. Her bottom lip threatened to tremble and Loid, on autopilot, was quick to pat her head comfortingly.
“It’s alright, Anya, you didn’t mean anything bad with your question.” He couldn’t help but sigh as he glanced in the direction of Yor’s room where her door closed with a firm click of the lock. “And Yor knows that too. She just needs some rest, it’s been a long day for her.”
After giving Anya a bath and making sure she was sleeping soundly in her bed for the night, he was sentenced to his own troublesome sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed for what felt like hours. Somewhere after midnight he reached the point of desperation where he tried to employ military sleep aid tactics for falling asleep anywhere but alas, his brain refused to shut off.
This is ridiculous, he thought exasperatedly. There’s no reason for me to be acting like this was my first time out in the field.
He was an experienced veteran. The terrorists they’d encountered today hadn’t even been particularly vicious. They’d just wanted their silly show rewritten! The only real brush of danger that he hadn’t predicted was when the leader turned his gun on Yor. There was no time to think logically before standing in front of his wife protectively. The absence of not thinking logically was what made it the logical choice, he’d decided later when he had a chance to review his actions. What husband wouldn’t jump in front of his wife to take a bullet for her?
Yet the sharp niggling in the back of his mind refused to abate and its presence forced Loid to stare tiredly at his ceiling.
Hands clasped over his chest, his mind began to wander. As of late, his thoughts tended to gravitate toward Yor. Tonight especially put a focus on her and the position she’d been threatened to act in.
Absent mindedly chewing on the inside of his cheek, he contemplated her words from earlier.
People can die. They can die just like that.
She was right. Waking up wasn’t a given and anyone could be killed, whether by car accident or a bullet in the heart. The seriousness of her expression, the lingering of something darker peeking underneath, beckoned him to reconsider his previous beliefs.
For the sake of his mission, his survival was paramount.
For the sake of his mission, Yor’s survival was also paramount.
What was he supposed to choose? What if he was in a similar predicament as today? What was he expected to prioritize?
Eight months ago his choice wouldn’t have been in question. Not a second thought to what he’d do. The implication of what his current dilemma meant made him bite his cheek roughly and he winced when the taste of iron hit the back of his throat.
His eyes snapped open. Automatically, his gaze locked onto the source of what woke him from his unsatisfying sleep, listening once more to the quiet knock on his door. He could almost mistake it for Anya being on the other side had he not known Anya would’ve been loudly pulling at his doorknob to be let in.
Loid slipped from his bed, noting the time and the fact he’d fallen asleep for a meager forty-five minutes. He padded his way to the door, opening it to the unsurprising sight of Yor. It was the actual state of her that surprised him.
Yor stood, her chin pointed up to stare at him in equal parts nervousness and determination. She was in pajamas but not a single hair out of place, unlike Loid’s bed head hair, letting him know she hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Although that was quite obvious by the dark bags under her eyes and the paleness of her skin.
“...Yor?” He asked when it was clear she wasn’t going to be the first to break the silence. “Can I help you?”
To be honest, this was the last thing he expected tonight. But, he reasoned, it made sense that Yor would be frazzled with nerves. He needed to be sensitive, a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen.
He nodded to himself, already cataloguing what techniques he learned from Loid Forger’s job as a therapist to apply in this situation.
“I was so scared today,” Yor breathed out at last.
His face softened and he looked at her sympathetically. “I know, I know. It was a lot to deal with and no one should have to go through what you did.”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t scared when they barged in, or when they forced me to dress up and act. At least not the way you’re thinking. Every step of the way, I never feared for my life.” Yor swallowed forcibly. “I was worried about what if you and Yuri got hurt.”
“No one was hurt. We’re all safe and far, far away from that place and those criminals. It’s going to take some time but—”
“No.”
Loid’s mouth fell open and he blinked in the face of Yor’s emotional response. Her brows pinched together and she closed her eyes briefly, gathering herself, before meeting his gaze head on.
“I was worried until you jumped in front of that man’s gun and then I was downright terrified.” Yor’s ruby eyes became wet with unshed tears and panic overtook Loid. All his training fell right out the window in the face of Yor on the verge of crying. He flailed ungracefully, hovering, and attempting to go through each of his mental plans he’d created for this possible scenario but they disintegrated into the vastness of his brain.
Yor had already made it well known what she thought of his little stunt but this was something different, more desperate and raw. A plea to be heard that Loid would be callous to let go unheard.
“Yor, I don't…” He exhaled shakily. “Where is this all coming from?”
“I’ve never been so scared in my life until that moment,” she admitted, her speech quickening unconsciously as she gained a flow. “I thought the worst moment was when Anya got hurt in that bus hijacking, and really, it was just as terrifying, but I hadn’t seen what she went through. With you I did. I saw you carelessly risking your life when it's the most important thing.” Her gaze bore into him. “Listen to me, Loid, you cannot die. Do you understand me? Do you realize what’s at stake here?”
Loid was at a loss for words, staring at her as if seeing her for the first time in his life.
She continued, sounding further heated, “What would Anya do if something happened to you? That little girl depends on you. You’re her father! She’d be devastated if she lost you. You can’t put yourself in jeopardy when you have a daughter waiting for you at home.”
He managed to gain some control of his voice. “And what about you?”
Yor looked taken aback. “What about me?”
Loid couldn’t stop the scoff that made its way past his throat. “You expect me to leave you in the line of fire? What if anything happened to you? Do you think Anya will just act like nothing happened and ask to watch cartoons as if it's any other day?” He couldn’t explain why he felt so charged about this, the way his own breathing picked up and matched Yor’s. It rubbed him the wrong way for Yor to treat his health in higher regard compared to hers that his past qualms melted in favor of proving her wrong.
She hesitated. The wood flooring creaked underneath her shuffling feet.
“It’s different.”
But that wasn’t an answer Loid would accept.
He shook his head firmly. “No. No you can’t come here in the middle of the night, demand that I place my life above yours, and then give me that flimsy reasoning as if it's that or nothing.”
“You’re her father and she needs you more—”
“She needs you too!” He couldn’t help but step forward to emphasize his point, emotion he didn’t know he had inside bubbling over to air out. “You’re her mother. You’ve been in her life for months, it’s not a job you can walk out of when you feel like it.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to say! She’s my daughter, yes, and the thought of not being there for her hurts me but if the choice is between me or you, I’d pick me who goes. Every single time.”
A laugh slipped out of him, incredulous and sour. “And why do you get to choose that?”
“Because—because I love you!” Yor’s confession exploded out from her leaving him to freeze in its wake. Her eyes blazed with fiery passion. “I love you and if you died it’d ruin me.”
His breath caught in his throat, the oxygen in the room seemed to disappear with her words.
“...you what?”
“I—I don’t expect you to reciprocate. Or, or even acknowledge it after tonight. I just…” Her expression fell. “I wanted you to know because anything can happen and I don’t want to live with that regret. And then maybe you’d understand why it has to be me at the end of the gun.”
“I…I can understand why,” he heard himself say.
She looked at him gratefully with lingering sad eyes. “Thank you.”
“But that doesn’t mean I accept it.”
Her shoulders sank. “Loid, I’m stronger than you think. You don’t have to protect me. That’s not what you agreed to when we got married.”
“What we agreed to when we got married doesn’t matter. Did you agree to f-fall in love with me? No.” He couldn’t believe he’d said that, couldn’t believe it was true. “You did anyway. If you can do that then why can’t I care about you too? Why can’t I want to keep you safe?”
He watched her lick her lips, the glistening sheen left behind, and wondered when they’d gotten so close that he could feel the warm puffs of her breath ghosting his face.
Loid should be doing something, he knew. He couldn’t quite parse out exactly what. A honey mission—some kind of trap? He was too fixated with Yor, who let out a shaky breath, and asked in a tremulous whisper, “You care about me?”
Instead of answering, Loid’s hands found their way to caressing her cheeks. He leaned down, pausing the barest second in case she refused, but she looked at him searchingly, waiting for him to make the next move. His stomach fluttered wildly.
His lips met hers delicately, both of them unsure about this new, unfamiliar step they were taking. It was the barest sense of a kiss and to Loid, the feeling was incredible. The stabbing niggling sensation in the back of his head that’d been torturing him for hours dispersed as if it’d never existed and oh, he thought to himself, dumbfounded, that’s why.
Loid pulled just far enough away to enjoy Yor’s eyes remaining closed and her face still seeking his. His lips twitched upward faintly and pressed his forehead against hers.
“Very much so,” he confessed.