Occupational Hazards

He was a spy—in the business for many years. He knew that after his mission, this child was going straight to an orphanage. Still, Twilight would do his best to make sure she ended up in a better orphanage than the one he'd gotten her from.

Spies can't get too attached. Feelings only got in the way, made everything messy. When missions concluded, the parting, the end of the relationships he'd built had to be swift. Once his mission was over, he would disappear from her life.

Attachment, affection. Sometimes, even love had no place in his line of work.

He needed to be careful. Already, he knew that feelings were deeply involved.

From her, anyway. Loid knew she was already committed to playing the part of his child, his daughter. She made it look easy, being a family, the way she would look at him like he was her entire world. The trust, the expectation that he often saw in her innocent green eyes. It deeply resembled the love a child had for their parent.

As Twilight, Westalis' best agent, he had to remember that all this was only a cover for Operation Strix. He was Loid Forger, a psychiatrist, and father to Anya. He only had to play the part of a good parent. They were only pretending to be family.

"Anya likes the peanuts with the sugar," she suddenly piped up, interrupting his thoughts. She was sitting patiently on the kitchen countertop he'd set her on. Her legs were swinging excitedly, but she wasn't resisting the damp towel he used to gently wipe off the mess on her face. The sugar grains had managed to attach themselves so firmly to her delicate skin.

"Anya doesn't like the salty stuff." She added a little nod to her emphatic statement.

Loid ignored it and concentrated on wiping the rest of her hands. He sighed. "How can you make such a mess of yourself just eating peanuts, Anya?"

Her eyes were wide and innocent when she looked up at him. "Popsy doesn't like peanuts?"

"Popsy likes peanuts," he replied, unable to control the smile on his face. "I just eat them more neatly than you do."

"Uigh!"

Then her eyes peered into his, almost like she was trying to see into his mind. And sometimes, he really did think she could because she was so perceptive, it seemed as if she could read his thoughts.

"Love and affection!" she suddenly chirped, the grin on her face almost bordered on being knowing.

"What?" Loid asked, startled. That was surprisingly close to what he'd been thinking the last few minutes.

"For my peanuts," she said, her tone amused.

They stared at each other and he had no choice but to give in. He shrugged and she started swinging her legs jauntily again.

"Alright, all done." He picked her up and set her on the floor, where she ran into the living room and proceeded to turn on the television to watch her spy cartoons.

***

That was earlier in the day, but she was now tucked under the covers, their "ooting" had tired her out.

Loid picked up the black dress she'd discarded by the foot of the bed and realized as he folded it that she was such a tiny little thing. He remembered again taking off those loafers she wore and feeling how light and small they'd been in his hands.

Anya sighed just then and she turned over in her sleep, rustling the pink blanket of her bed. Her arms tightened around Mr. Chimera, and she mumbled something about that sounded suspiciously like, "... Princess Peanuts in the castle."

He was done here in her bedroom. He should really go back into the living room and read up on the mission documents while she was asleep. This was his chance to work uninterrupted. There were still the final details of his plan to break into Eden.

She'll be fine, he thought. She was safe here. Since they'd moved in to this new home, there hadn't been any more attempts at kidnapping. At this point, her safety was pretty much assured.

He'd just leave the door to her bedroom open while he worked—just to make sure.

Still, though, Loid's legs refused to move from his spot as he continued to watch her sleep.

He was a spy.

And yet, the years of being one made him forget how much he'd grown, too. That he'd been a child once, just like Anya. Those days, he'd been carefree and unburdened, the joy of living in the moment because everything was exciting. He remembered running through the streets of his home, greeting his neighbors, and eating the little treats they'd hand him while on his way to meet his friends.

These days, responsibility clung to him like thick cologne. The success of Operation Strix would define the future of the world. Beneath the veneer of peace, a dark shadow was brewing, something he was tasked to prevent from escalating. And he would do it willingly to make sure that children like Anya would never experience what he'd gone through when those bombs first exploded all around him.

"Popsy...not the unicorns..." she mumbled in her sleep as she shifted on her bed. "Havta... shev  d'world."

He paused for a moment. "What the hell are you dreaming about, Anya?"

He smiled. 

To be young again. 

Twilight shook his head.

No. This had to stop. There was no use remembering the past, his only focus was the future. His childhood was gone. His home was gone.

As he stared at Anya sleeping peacefully in her bed, Twilight was realizing now that this job had its own occupational hazards. He didn't really have much contact with children because he impersonated and used adults when necessary—all part of being a secret agent. It made one forget how small and fragile children could be.

But at the same time, he knew how tough and resilient they could also be.

Anya Williams.

Anya Levski.

Anya Roche.

She'd been rejected four times by her adoptive families, but still, there was a buoyant sweetness to her character that had taken him by surprise. Anya was a creature of whimsy, and in those rare moments he could understand her, he often found himself smiling at how silly and how ridiculous she was.

But goddammit. She was still so damned tiny. It made him want to protect her and make sure that she wouldn't ever be sad enough to cry.

And there was also that suspicious tug he felt in his heart whenever she did those things that made her cute.

Popsy. The way she called him father.

The way she was so light, he could carry her with only one arm.

The way her head barely reached his thighs when she stood next to him.

The way her small fingers had curled trustingly in his bigger hand when they'd walked down the busy city streets on their way home.

Twilight repeated a mantra in his head:

Don't get too close. Don't fall in love.

Especially with helpless little orphans.

Because somewhere along the way, he'd stopped pretending to be a father and suddenly became one.