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As a leader, Sylvia didn't need to be in the field often
But as a leader, it was good to keep in practice.
Plus if it gave her the chance to peek at her favorite agent out in the throes of undercover work, that was just a nice bonus.
The windows didn't even try to keep her out. There was a click and Sylvia was in the Forger family apartment. She pocketed the lock-picking kit and couldn't help but indulge in a smug grin. I still got it.
The living room was mostly tidy; save for a few crayons scattered on the coffee table, a little sweater on the arm of the sofa, and the tiniest shoes sprawled on the floor in front of the TV. Against all directive, Sylvia instinctively reached for the little yellow sweater. Then she stopped. It was still second nature, the desire to pick up the sweater and fold it. Leave it ready for an outing to the park tomorrow. She pulled her arm back and fought the urge to grab the little shoes. Shouldn't they be by the door, next to mom and dad's? Despite her old life deep in a grave with her loved ones, the ghost of that old mom from long ago haunted at the most inconvenient times.
Sylvia walked to the kitchen next. The soft cool light of the moon made the apartment look so… homey. The moonlight glistened off Spy Wars stickers on the cabinets, and revealed the three lunchboxes on the counter. One red, with a gold rose and cursive Y embroidered on the front. One with a colorful galaxy print with the name ANYA printed in big, capital letters. Impossible even for the most distracted child to miss. And of course, a plain black lunchbox. No decoration, no name, no trace. But clearly someone thought that wouldn't do. A big piece of drawing paper was taped to the front with a drawing of who Sylvia assumed was Twilight in his green suit and an uncharacteristically large smile. The message of PAPA'S LUNCH! Scrawled in kindergarten font ran across the top. The evening glow also spotlighted many more crayon masterpieces on the refrigerator. Sylvia brushed her hands on a drawing of a castle. The waxy sensation of crayon was irritatingly nostalgic.
There was a signed permission slip by the drawings for a trip to the new science museum downtown. The efficient scrawl of Twilight's signature was contrasted with the loopy cursive of Yor's. There was a school portrait of Anya, smiling from ear to ear. Her slightly frizzy hair and mildly unkempt uniform were the only evidence she had been playing outside before the picture. There was a note reminding Loid to pick up Bond's medicine at the vet, signed off with a smiley face and a heart. There was a supermarket list, with staples written in black pen and the important things like "cookies!" and "ice cream!!" added in glittery crayon. Sylvia also spotted a calendar for the current month. Sylvia saw Twilight's familiar handwriting mapping out what was happening each day. There were exam days for Eden, Yor's business trips and his business trips. Anya's eye doctor appointment in two weeks, and a weekend marked "date night" in three. The crayon bandit had struck again, because "date night" was decorated with scribbly red hearts. For a cover family, they sure were going above and beyond with looking real. Even I'm starting to believe it, Sylvia thought. She knew Twilight always went all-in on his roles, but he always struggled to shake that underlying intensity. Something about Loid Forger sanded down Twilight's edges. Rather… Sylvia could think of two somethings to blame for that. Maybe a third if we count the dog.
After walking through the kitchen, she pulled the newspaper out of her pocket. She laid it on the floor by the front door. Should I angle it this way? Or that way? What makes it more convincing? Planting a prop is a skill many of her trainees scoffed about. But the difference between a coded message looking natural or staged could mean life or death in this field. I suppose I should have shoved it under the door from outside she thought. Spying on her favorite spy sounded like fun at first, but was proving to sting more than Sylvia expected. Too many memories of another mom, husband and little girl from long before. Another couple who used to count down the days until date night. Another child who asked for sweets in crayon on the grocery list and decorated the refrigerator with art. She started making her way back to the windows. Out of the corner of her eye she saw it. Bright moonlight in the hallway, coming from Anya's room. How odd. To leave a little one's room wide open in the middle of the night. Sylvia walked to the room and–
Anya was gone.
Sylvia didn't expect her heart to drop. Or the icy feeling in her blood. She looked back at the hallway, but didn't see any lights from the bathroom, so Anya wasn't there. She entered the room and started looking under the bed, shaking out blankets, even looking in the closet. But Anya wasn't anywhere. There were no signs of struggle. The window wasn't broken, Anya's desk was intact, and her nightlight kept lazily projecting stars around the room. But that didn't mean anything. There were people out there who stole children in seconds. Sylvia's mind ran through the miles long list of potential kidnappers while she made her way to Twilight's room. WISE had a lot of enemies, but children of Eden College were often targets for criminals too. Just another of the many risky layers to Strix. Sylvia could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Her fingers were trembling with worry and rage she hadn't felt in years. She fought for the last bit of self-control she had left not to storm in there and yell for Twilight to get up and look for his child. But her logic and training came in clutch. If there was an enemy in this home, she'd be taking them by surprise. Sylvia slowly cracked the door to Twilight's room open, pistol at the ready. She peeked inside–
–And sighed with relief. Anya was there, fast asleep.
Come to think of it, so was Twilight. Twilight was lying completely still, but had his right arm wrapped around Anya almost daring someone to try and take her away. Anya was nuzzled at Twilight's side, a line of tear tracks down her cheek with her thumb hanging limply from her mouth. A juvenile habit Sylvia thought. Probably a nightmare, then. The relief of seeing Anya safe and sound wore down the rush of the adrenaline. Her heart was finally starting to slow down. Then Sylvia noticed someone else in the room. Unbelievable. One Mrs. Yor Forger was asleep on Twilight's left side. His arm was around her waist, and Yor laid her hand on Twilight's chest. Despite the hazy moonlight, Sylvia swore she saw Yor was smiling in her sleep. She couldn't take her eyes off the scene. Never had she seen her favorite agent so... domestic. So unguarded. So… at peace.
And never had she seen her favorite agent not respond to someone watching him sleep, especially for this embarrassingly long amount of time. If this man was going to protect the payload that is Anya Forger, a sleep retraining regimen was clearly in order. Don't get too soft now, Twilight. What if I had been a threat? She gently shut the door, not even allowing the doorknob to click. While mapping out a training schedule in her mind, a gentle rumble sounded behind her. Sylvia turned to see the family dog, staring her down the hallway. Bond growled fiercely, but quietly. Almost as if he didn't want to wake up his people just yet. Sylvia approached Bond slowly, holding out her hand for him to sniff. Bond's growls stopped almost immediately and he gently wagged his tail, as though aware he shouldn't thump thump thump it against the wall to risk waking someone up.
"Good boy, Bond." Sylvia whispered. "A word of advice though, respond to intruders a bit quicker next time." She pulled out a dog treat from her pocket, and fed it to Bond. And she couldn't resist patting his head before getting ready to go.
She walked back to the front door and picked up the newspaper. I think Dr. Forger doesn't need the extra work right now. His schedule this month is clearly packed. There were other agents who could handle this mission. For now, she would leave Twilight to give his precious little extra time towards Strix. Despite the pangs of a buried life, memories of another little girl who got nightmares and a mom and dad who soothed them away, and honestly even a little envy at the life Twilight fell into, Handler thought her favorite agent deserved a little gift. And time with family is the most valuable gift of them all. She hoped he didn't take it for granted.
"Good Morning, Handler." Twilight entered her office, poised and pristine as always. And today, she noticed, less dark circles under the eyes than usual.
"Good morning, afternoon, or evening to you, Twilight." Sylvia waved him in. "Did you sleep well?"
Twilight had a look of shock, but only for the tiniest second. To be honest, no one but her would have noticed anyway. "I slept… fine." He coughed into his fist, and the lightest shade of pink started on his ears. Another of her student's little tells he could never fully cover. "Why do you ask?"
"Hmm. No reason." Sylvia shrugged. "Just trying out some small talk, but it's not my thing. Now, how do you feel about a long weekend off of extra work?"