Work Text:
5 Months
The first time it happened, Yor was washing dishes. Her hands were soapy and water had soaked the front of her sweater. She should have put on gloves and an apron, but she was so tired today and she just wanted to get the chore over with so she could take a nap before she had to go pick up Anya from Becky’s.
She was midway through scrubbing a large pot that had been soaking overnight when she felt it. A little flutter, then another.
Her eyes grew wide and she dropped the pot into the sink, her wet hands rushing to her belly. She pressed her hands flat against herself, waiting for another. Of course she knew this would happen - babies start moving eventually, and the doctor said it would happen soon - but what a strange sensation it was. She couldn’t wait to tell Loid when he got home from work.
Yor waited a minute to see if another kick would come, but the baby seemed to have settled down for now. The shock of the moment began to wane, so she finished washing the dishes, in a dreamy stupor.
When she finished, she changed into a dry, comfortable shirt and went to flip on the television. A nap seemed impossible after such excitement. But rather than turn on her shows, Yor sank into the couch, curiosity racing through her. She pulled her shirt up over the swell of her belly and pushed the top of her leggings down so she could see it fully.
No one had told her how magical it would be to feel her child grow and become active within her.
“Baby,” she whispered, sliding her hands onto her belly. “Are you listening, baby? Will you kick again?”
She waited, watching for movement.
“I don’t think it’s happening, Bond,” she sighed. She was a little disappointed, but she knew it would happen again soon. It was probably for the best that the baby didn’t kick on demand. From his bed, the dog opened an eye to acknowledge her. She patted the spot next to her on the couch. “Come here.”
The couch was a treat for him. With as much excitement as a sleepy Bond could muster, he stood and stretched, then lumbered over and hopped up to join her. He tried to lay his head on her lap, but there wasn’t as much room as there usually was, so he settled for her belly. With a deep sigh, he got comfortable and quickly fell back asleep.
Yor yawned and ran her fingers through his soft fur, rubbed his silky ears, thinking of how good Bond was with Anya. She had no worries about him with the baby. He liked babies, or was at least intrigued by them when they saw them out and about. She had heard about nanny dogs who were trained to care for and protect their children, but Bond did that so naturally for Anya that she had no doubt he would take care of the new addition too.
The baby, the baby. Her baby and Loid’s baby. Their baby. Months in, the idea was still so novel.
Anya was her child without a doubt, and she hadn’t thought she cared about whether or not she would ever have the experience of carrying a child. Now that she was living through it she was grateful. For decades she had devoted herself to snuffing out lives - what a gift to be able to grow a new one herself. Gently creating skin and hair and a heart, teeth and toes and eyes, all meant to weave a perfect little life out of a bit of her and a bit of the husband she never expected to become real.
Yor was familiar with darkness, with the worst of humanity. But even while she was away for now, she trusted that Garden would continue to clear the noxious weeds so her child could take root in the well tilled dirt of a more just Ostania. She and Loid would raise them to be good, to be kind, and Anya and this baby would never know the hardship she had, not ever, ever. She drifted asleep, fingers woven through Bond’s fur, thinking of her children together, safe as they could ever be in her arms, in their home, in the country she had given so much of her life to making a better place.
*
Butterflies. A kaleidoscope of butterflies flying all around her, kissing Anya’s nose, resting on Loid’s lapel.
Yor blinked awake. The sun was low, coloring the living room in deep orange and blue. She needed to leave to get Anya, but the couch was so comfortable and Bond was so warm. A swirling feeling rolled through her belly and she smiled. The butterflies were inside - the baby was moving again.
Bond lifted his large head from her middle and stared, his sweet eyes widening with every movement.
“Did you just notice there’s someone in there, boy?” Yor smiled. Bond glanced at her, realization settling on his sweet face, then nuzzled into her as though trying to meet the baby as soon as he could. Just five more minutes, then she would pick up Anya.
7 Months
Twilight’s watch read 1:30 AM when he walked in the door, hungry and tired. This job had taken far longer than he’d intended it to due to some bad intel and a squirrelly target who had him running laps around a park to catch them. He’d succeeded though, a score for WISE, and was relieved when he finished his paperwork and could finally return home.
The apartment was dark save for the glow of the lamp in the entryway. Yor must have left it on for him. He hung up his coat and hat and kicked off his shoes, sliding his sore feet into slippers. Shuffling towards the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat, he was suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion.
He rested his head against the fridge, a little miserable. There were so many steps between him and sliding into bed with Yor to finally sleep. The idea of cooking something, even of cutting a few slices of bread and cheese, felt like so much work. Rallying his energy, Twilight opened the fridge to hunt down some food, only to find himself smiling. A small pot was filled with Yor’s stew, a meal of hers that he knew he could trust, and there was a small note atop it, penned in her flowery script.
Add some hot sauce! xo
He set it on the stove to heat up. It would take a bit, but at least he didn’t have to do anything. His heart felt warm. She had thought of him, had anticipated his need. She knew he would be home late, and if he was home late then that meant difficult “patients” and lots of paperwork, and probably no time for dinner. How many years had they lived together now, yet he still found it moving, refreshing even, to be cared for in the simplest ways. When he was alone on the streets as a little boy, when he was in the army, when he became a spy - he’d never imagined having that kind of security again. How strange that being so devoted to the mission would bring such good into his life.
He left the heat on low and went to shower off the day. There was no way he would get in bed with her - with the baby - smelling like gunpowder and blood. He had already considered a litany of ways that his line of work could ruin the baby’s life, with more coming to him by the day. Tonight it worried him that exposing them to such chemicals could affect their development, let alone him betraying their purity by eliminating a target, then climbing into bed with them and their mother like any other good father in the neighborhood. But he was protecting his family (like his father never had.) And their participation, albeit unknowingly, was making sure the world they all lived in was a safer one. He felt absolutely no guilt about this - he knew Operation Strix was for the good of not only Westalis and Ostania, but world peace that would allow his children a kinder life than he’d lived.
He was never supposed to get this close to Yor or Anya, but unfortunately he had. His cover slowly became his reality, perhaps for the good of the mission - it was much easier to simply be a devoted husband and father than it was to pretend. He and Yor were great partners long before he threw all caution and logic to the wind. He still couldn’t be sure what tipped him over the edge into finally acknowledging, then giving into the need he felt. As their lives wove together, he came to realize that he needed her like he needed water and air. Needed her smile and her laugh, and her hair and her hips, her kindness, her verve. Her.
He’d spent decades repressing his own desires - once he had her, he took his fill. Then more.
She was his wife, after all.
Handler had been frustrated with him for weeks after he shared the unexpected news of Yor’s pregnancy; disappointed in a way he’d never truly made someone other than his parents before, in a way that twisted him up inside. No matter what he’d told himself, he’d compromised the mission by becoming so attached, by introducing another piece onto the board, and the mission was everything. But had he really?
Two months into Yor’s pregnancy, while she debated quitting her job at City Hall or staying at work a few more months, Twilight did nothing of the sort. In fact, he committed himself even deeper to the mission. He arrived in Handler’s office with a plan and a promise: this pregnancy and the child that resulted from it would bring him even closer to Donovan Desmond, perhaps into the man’s own home. With no mother to seek guidance or comfort from, Loid would counsel Yor to reach out to fellow mothers for support during her pregnancy - especially her good friend Melinda.
Ultimately, after hours of negotiations and strategizing, with promises of allegiance and redoubled commitment to the mission, Twilight had been allowed to remain embedded in the Forger family, his deep cover tunneling even deeper, likely forever, into the crust of the earth. Handler might be generous with him. He might stay embedded with his family until he retired and lived out his days. But he still knew the possibility was always there - that one day Loid Forger might have to die to keep Twilight or his mission alive, and that their family would pay the price.
A deep sigh escaped him when he pushed back the shower curtain. The tub was full of Anya’s toys, which irked him, but he was too tired to move them. He cranked the hot water and gingerly stepped in, tossing his clothes in a pile on the ground. The water washed away the target’s face, the sweat, the ink on his fingers. His toes were surrounded by toys, but he just pushed them away with his feet. He’d long since given up the tub toy fight. It was nothing he wasn’t used to now. He supposed that with the baby coming soon they’d be renewing the timeline for tub toys and he’d be looking at another decade or so of them.
By the time he’d dried off, wrapped the towel around his waist, and started a load of laundry, the stew was finally hot. Too tired to move to the table, he stood over the stove and ate it straight from the pot. The first few spoonfuls were for sustenance only - he almost didn’t taste it as he swallowed it down - but as the raging hunger began to subside he took a calming breath, added some hot sauce as Yor had suggested, and was able to actually appreciate the flavor. She really had improved as a cook over the years, much to his and Anya’s appreciation and relief.
Stomach full and body clean, Loid was finally ready for bed. On the way to his and Yor’s room, he cracked open Anya’s door and peeked in. She slept soundly, a thin trail of drool falling out of her open mouth. At the foot of her bed, Bond snoozed too, though he opened his eyes at Loid’s entrance. Loid smiled at him and Bond returned to sleep, his heavy breathing melding with Anya’s in a quiet lull. Satisfied and assured, he shut the door and turned to go to his own room.
At the bottom of the door, a thin strip of light peeked through. Yor was awake? When he opened it he found her sitting up in bed, bathed in warm light, eyes closed and rubbing her large belly.
“You’re home,” she smiled, peering at him through thick lashes.
“I am,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, then one to the top of her belly. He sat down next to her on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
“Not at all. She did,” she said, gesturing to the baby.
“‘She,’ hm?” Loid smiled.
“I just know,” she shrugged. He believed her. “She’s up and about too. Here.”
She took his hand and guided it towards her belly. Beneath his palm and her cotton shirt, he felt a little body rolling against her skin, a foot probably, and then maybe a bottom. Yor winced. The larger the baby got, the more uncomfortable she seemed to feel with them moving around.
“Now baby,” Loid murmured, bending to speak to them. “This is your papa speaking. It’s the middle of the night and your mama is tired. Now is not the time to do somersaults and boxing. It’s time to settle down, okay?”
The baby did settle, to which Yor chuckled. “That was some very fatherly reprimanding, Loid.”
His ears grew hot, something like pride stirring within him. When had he become fatherly? As he mused, Yor took a breath and looked away, on the verge of saying something else.
“Yor?”
“Was Anya this squirmy when- when she was pregnant?”
Loid paused. Yor rarely asked about his first wife, believing it too sensitive a topic. It served his cover, but this family had become so real to him that sometimes he almost forgot that they were built on a foundation of lies.
“Sorry,” Yor immediately apologized, flushing. “I know you don’t like to talk about her.”
“It’s okay,” he said, taking hold of the hand that rested on her belly. “No, I think this baby takes after you with the roundhouses.”
She sighed. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Well, she listened for a moment, but she’s back to moving around again. Stubborn like her papa.”
“I’m not-“
Yor threw him a pointed glance.
“Says you,” he scoffed playfully, a little bashful.
“Maybe you can keep talking to her?” A little smile bloomed on her lips. “We both like the sound of your voice.”
“Let me just get changed.” He felt her eyes on him as he crossed the room to pull on his pajamas. He moved carefully, his muscles sore after so much running.
“Long day?”
“Mmhm,” he nodded, tossing the towel in the hamper. He took a breath, speaking quietly to the wall, to her, to himself. He couldn’t tell her the truth, ever, but maybe -
“It’s fulfilling work but… sometimes I wonder if…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.
Yor spoke carefully. “I know your career is so important to you and I wouldn’t dream of asking you to give it up. Your patients need you. You help so many people. But maybe you can talk to the hospital about being put on less complex cases? Especially after the baby is born.”
The thought had certainly crossed his mind. Despite Yor’s closeness with Melinda Desmond and the ways it had brought Loid into their inner circle, Handler still continued to put him on these smaller missions, as punishment, he surmised. But maybe the late nights and chasing bad guys around until sweat dripped from his brow was simply the cost of having this family he’d never expected to have. It seemed a worthy trade.
“Maybe,” he replied.
As he climbed into bed, she opened her arms to him. He curled into her soft chest, pressing his lips to her belly. and began to tell them all a story of a very lost man who finally, accidentally, found his way home.
9 Months
Scattered all over the dining table was Anya’s homework. Between math and Ostanian history and science, Anya couldn’t decide which she wanted to do the least. Bond rested at her feet, his fur soft against her bare toes.
Grumbling to herself, Anya shuffled through her papers. There were so many things she’d rather do today than homework, but if she didn’t get it done by dinner time then Papa wouldn’t be happy.
“Anya,” Mama called from the kitchen. “Your snack is almost ready. Which subject are you doing first?”
Anya whined, sinking into her chair. “I don’t want to do any of them.”
“I’m afraid that’s not an option,” Mama chuckled.
Pouting, Anya watched as she rounded the corner of the kitchen and came to set a plate of apples and crackers and cheese on the table. Mama’s belly was so, so big now, but she moved as gracefully as ever, like a ballerina with a watermelon strapped to her stomach. Anya chalked it up to being an assassin. All that super strength and her cat-like reflexes!
Mama was ready for the baby to be born and to get the heck out of her belly. Anya heard her say it at least ten times a day in her head, but people told their family all the time that babies liked to come on their own schedule, and they arrived when they arrived.
“Eat up,” Mama said, slowly lowering herself into her seat. “It’ll give you strength and focus to do your homework!”
Anya had sunk so low into her chair that she was eye level with the plate of snacks now. With a sigh, she slithered a hand up to feel around for the plate, grabbed an apple, and shoved it in her mouth, crunching loudly.
The telltale static shock of Mama’s thoughts prickled Anya’s brain.
I am way too exhausted to fight her on this today.
Well, she didn’t want to give Mama a hard time. Feeling bad, Anya grabbed for her history homework, the easiest of the bunch. She completed it, then her science homework, far faster than the time it had taken her to grumble about doing it.
The math homework was where Anya got tripped up. She stared and stared at the questions.
“I’m stuck.”
Mama glanced up from her book, another one about babies.
“What’s the problem?”
“Fractions. I don’t remember how my teacher did these problems.”
Mama slid the paper over, her smile quickly morphing into a frown.
“Um…” Mama stared at the paper, her cheeks flushed. “I don’t really know. I think you’ll have to wait for Papa to do this one. I’m afraid I never learned how to do them.”
“They didn’t teach this in your school?”
Mama sighed, rubbing her hands over her belly. “Well, I didn’t get to go to much school, Anya. I don’t know if you’ve learned about this in your history class yet, but there was a war when Papa and I were little.”
“They talk about it on Spy Wars sometimes,” Anya offered, her focus now locked in. Her parents rarely talked about their childhoods, and everything she’d learned about them was by accidentally eavesdropping on their thoughts. The fact that Mama trusted her enough to share made Anya’s heart swell.
“Mmhm. There wasn’t much school happening at the time. And my mama and papa died during the war, but Yuri was very little so I had to go to work to take care of him.”
Mama’s face was so sad that it made Anya ache inside. She knew what it was like to have no parents.
“You had to take care of Unkie? How old were you?”
“8, so just a little older than you.”
Anya, newly 7, felt like such a big girl. The number seemed so small when she thought of Mama being her age. The idea of it just being Anya and her new little brother or sister filled her with a sick feeling. The thought of losing Mama and Papa, after everything, was bad enough. Anya tried to imagine going to work, cooking meals, doing laundry, taking care of another little kid. All the things Mama did now, but at Anya’s age. It explained why she couldn’t cook, that was for sure. But the idea of doing those things were so foreign to Anya - those were mama things, not kid things.
Mama stroked her hair, looking at her with big, watery eyes.
“It makes me so happy that you are getting such a good education at Eden, and that Papa cares so much about helping you learn, because I never had the opportunity to go to school and I really wish I had. So please, be grateful for your education and work hard to make the most of it.”
Anya nodded. She felt so guilty, and sad for Mama too. She slipped out of her chair and molded herself around her mother and her big belly. Strong arms wrapped around her, and Anya started to cry.
“Oh, sweetie,” Mama said, rubbing her back. “Why are you crying?”
“You had no mama and papa to take care of you. And you didn’t g-get to be a kid.” Anya knew what it was like to not get to be a kid, to be passed around and discarded. She cherished the feeling of security that came from knowing her parents loved her and would take care of her.
“No, not really. But that’s why it’s so special to me to see you get to be a kid, and help you learn and see you go to school. Promise you’ll make the most of it?”
Anya nodded, sinking even deeper into the hug. “Yes, Mama.”
Suddenly there was a hard push against Anya’s chest, and Mama’s breath hitched.
“Oh!” She laughed, gesturing to where the clear outline of a foot was pushing against them. “The baby wants to be part of our hug too.”
Anya giggled, pressing her face to the top of Mama’s belly. “Baby, you’re going to school too because it’ll make Mama happy. And I’ll take care of you, like Mama took care of Unkie. We’ll be best friends, okay?”
Now Mama was crying too. Anya wiped the tears from her eyes and gave her another hug.
Oh, my sweet girl. My Anya. I can’t believe these are the last days of just us three.
Mama held her tightly, and Anya wished she would never, ever let go. But, of course, she had to eventually. Both their faces were tear stained and red, the homework left forgotten on the table.
“You know what, Anya? The rest of your homework can wait for Papa.” Mama smiled conspiratorially. “What do you say to a little cuddle with ice cream and some Spy Wars reruns?”