Work Text:
Her fingers gently twisted the stem of her glass, back and forth, swirling the red liquid within. Warmth had settled into her veins, the world around her slowly fading away into a haze. The sounds of the room were barely able to pierce the cotton that filled her ears. Her mind slowly, slowly easing into a near dreamlike state.
It was an oddly comfortable feeling, being able to let go of everything, if only for a few minutes. To forget...whatever it was that had brought her here. It must have been something intense. She wasn’t one to drink like this.
Right?
...did it really matter?
...Probably not. She was here alone after all.
“Miss?” A voice, a little louder than then the haze and closer drew her away from those thoughts. Her eyes looked up and she blinked several times, slowly at him. He had a mustache, a fuzzy worm on his lip...but it kind of looked dignified on him! She wondered for a moment if the men in her life would look as good as him like that.
Maybe? A vague memory of Yuri attempting to grow out facial hair floated in her mind making her giggle.
“Miss?” The voice repeated, drawing her attention once more. The man with the mustache had a slight frown on his face.
Oh... She had been bad...
Her teeth found purchase on her lip and she had the presence of mind to look sorry. “Sowwie...” The word slipped from her lip, slurred and nothing like her usual tone. She winced. Just how drunk was she?
“Is there someone I can call for you, Miss? We are about to close and you need someone to help take you home.”
She almost laughed again. Even plastered out of her mind she was more dangerous than anyone for miles. They should be fearful of her, not the other way around. She was the deadly Thorn Princess after all! But that was a secret. Something that shouldn’t be uttered in polite or even just civilian company.
She didn’t want to have to kill the nice man just because she messed up.
Messed up...
The phrase bounces around in her head uncomfortably, scattered images that didn’t make sense to her drunken mind coming to the forefront...but they were painful flashes. Ones of blood, bright red covering her hands, blood that shouldn’t have been spilled.
She snatched the glass from the counter and poured it’s contents into her mouth. Not drunk enough... she thought, hand flying out trying to find something, an instinct. A memory.
Her hand found air before smacking on the bar. Not powerful enough to crack the wood...but she really shouldn’t do that again.
“Really, Miss. Is there someone I can call?”
Was there? Blue eyes swam in her memory, pinched and kind, soft and serious.
No. I shouldn’t bother him... She shook her head, digging around in her clutch for some change. “How much?”
“I won’t be taking any money from you, Miss, until you tell me who is coming to pick you up,” The bartender insisted.
“I don’t have anyone.” She growled. She wasn’t going to disturb her brother just because she couldn’t hold her liquor. It would be too suspicious. But the words struck her deeply even if they had come from her own mouth.
Because it was true. There were aspects of herself that no one should know, she knew that in her drunken state. She had hidden herself from the sun for so long that now...now that the truth was somewhat out, that she wasn’t normal, she didn’t know what to do with the brightness.
“...You aren’t alone in this, Yor. We can...we will figure this out!”
The words nearly drive her to tears and she clutched her head. Where did she go wrong? How did this happen? That she would hurt her own hus-
“I’m here for her,” A soft, serious voice calmly stated from her side. No hand rested on her, but she could feel his sudden closeness and stiffened.
Her hands fell from her face as she turned to look. Her director stood there, wide rimmed reflective glasses staring at the bartender. Even though his eyes weren’t on her, she suddenly felt very small. Younger. Littler. A rookie in the field once more, cutting her hand on a blade she knew better than to do so.
“Buchou-san,” She greeted, doing her best not to slur her words, though she was sure that she failed in that regard. He knew. He had to. Which was why he was here.
“Mrs. Forger,” He answered, his tone not unfriendly, but not warm. Not that she expected warmth. He turned to look at her, hand outstretched to politely assist her in getting down from the bar stool. “Let’s go. I’ll drive you home.”
Her feet obeyed before her mind, her fingers curling around a wad of cash she had in her wallet and passing it to the bartender with the smallest of smiles. “Will this cover the cost?” She asked.
The man looked at it, then back to her. “Your drinks are covered by a standing tab, Ma’am,” He forced her fingers to curl again around the money and take it back. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you before.”
Her red eyes blinked at that, but she couldn’t comprehend what he meant and she stood there for several seconds. A hand landed on her shoulder, warm and light, but with a slightly urging pressure.
“Come, Mrs. Forger. Let’s get you home,” Her director urged.
She nodded abruptly. “Thank you,” she whispered before spinning on her heel - probably a bad idea with how the room moved with the action. Somehow, she managed to keep her feet under her as her director led her from the establishment and into a waiting vehicle.
It was a small Talbert, but the seat was warm and felt heavenly. She sighed as she leaned into the upholstery, closing her eyes as the engine roared to live and the vehicle began to move. And for a long moment it was silent.
Unconsciousness was clawing at the edge of her mind, drunkenly pulling her deeper into the warmth and comfort -
“Did something happen, Mrs. Forger?” her director asked, voice cutting through the silence like a perfectly sharpened blade, startling her back to wakefulness.
Her ruby eyes snapped open for a moment before closing just as fast after looking out the windshield. The sight of the street lamps going by was a bit disorienting in her state. But internally, part of her was screaming. What does he mean by that?
“Wha d’ ya mean, Buchou-san?” She asked, the slur thickened by her exhaustion.
Even in her intoxication, she saw the man’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel. It was incremental, but present. “One doesn’t usually drink alone without some kind of reason,” He answered stiffly. “And with the amount you’ve drunk...you’re lucky I was passing by.”
“I could still take them...” She muttered childishly under her breath, but the somberness of her mood didn’t allow her to make light of the situation. Didn’t allow her to find humor in the idea of some thug trying to take her out on her way home.
She was lucky. But that luck would run out the moment she got home. Why was I being so stupid? She internally berated herself. Do I want a reason for Loid to...
“That doesn’t answer my question,” McMahon sighed, lifting a hand off the steering wheel to rub his forehead. “You don’t have to explain everything, Mrs. Forger, but if something happened at work or work I can help resolve it -”
“No!” She yelped, feeling suddenly much more sober. “No. Thank you. It’s... I just... I just needed a drink! That’s all!”
Silently she prayed to the stars above that she was convincing. She had never been good at lying. She could deflect if need be, but outright lying always made her uneasy. And that discomfort increased as McMahon pulled to a stop in front of a familiar staircase. This trip was faster than I thought it’d be! A blessing in disguise. She reached out quickly for the handle, hoping to escape quickly so he couldn’t interrogate her further -
But his strong grip wrapped around her digits, reaching across her to stop her movement. She was still stronger than him and could easily break away (though it was possible she would break his hand in the process if she was too hasty). He pulled on her hand, bringing her to face him, the light from the street lamp reflecting off his glasses and effectively hiding his expression. But there was a sternness in the set of his mouth, a tightness that made her feel small again. It was a look she had received in the earliest days of her training but hadn’t since she had graduated from his tutelage. And yet...here was again that look of mild disappointment.
There would be no wiggling out of this one.
But the reason behind her drinking wasn’t something she could easily disclose. There were dire consequences for what had happened on that night. No one who discovered a Garden assassin was supposed to live. She should have killed Loid, either before or after his mask fell. She had several opportunities to do so. But there was no way she could have done so.
Even if her secret was outed to her husband, she still wanted to keep this life they had. Loid had even admitted that he didn’t want this to end. That he wanted her to stay. She couldn’t stop the ache in her heart that longed for that as well. He still wanted her. Anya still wanted her.
She should have vanished when she had the chance. Even if she had been required to give some kind of official explanation to Garden, she would have been sober -
McMahon let out a slow, quiet breath and released her hand. “Did you want to come here? Or was there somewhere else you’d rather sober up at?”
Yor rubbed her wrist gently from where his hand had been seconds before. “Yes. I-I want to go home.”
“Very well,” Her director nodded, turning to face the steering wheel once more. “I’ll put in an approved leave of absence for tomorrow if you aren’t able to come in.”
The knot in her chest loosened as her fingers gripped the handle, ready to rush her escape. “Thank you, Buchou-san, that would be most appreciated. I’ll just get out of -”
“And, Mrs. Forger,” He continued, his tone stilling her hands more abruptly than any grasp could. “It’s okay to want something for yourself. You’ve given and given so much...it’s okay to take once in a while. It’s okay to want.”
She blinked slowly at the man, the words taking too long for her to understand.
He removed his glasses from his face and pulled a cleaning cloth from one of the inner pockets of his jacket before carefully clearing a smudge from the reflective glass. She could clearly see his expression now, and he looked much older than she knew him to be. His eyes drawn, brow pinched. He looked sad, almost mournful. As his thumb worked a smudge away, he took a deep sigh. “Even if we are soldiers in this unseen war, we still have to live in the civilian world. Even if it is for a cover, even if the things that brought you together weren’t typical, I would have to be blind and deaf to not see that you care about the Forgers. That they, like your brother, have become your drive to do what is needed to keep the world a better place.”
Yor felt her breath still in her chest, red eyes widening as he continued.
“Legally speaking, there is nothing stopping you from keeping them and living a normal life. And as long as it doesn’t interfere with the jobs you are assigned,” he said as he placed his glasses once more on his face. “Shopkeeper won’t have any reason to order you elsewhere. He doesn’t need to know. So,” He turned to face her, the armor of his glasses once more making it hard for her to read his expression, but his voice was resolved, firm. “Go inside, sleep, and talk to your family in the morning. Tell them how much they mean to you. Hug your daughter. Kiss your husband if you want. And once you are well, come back to work with all the dedication you had before.”
That tightness that had coiled around her heart, a viper that had been poisoning her slowly since that night at the chapel, finally began to loosen. Even if he didn’t know the extent of her distress, he had given her an out. Shopkeeper doesn’t need to know... Matthew McMahon had never stared her wrong, his advice had always been solid.
But there was a small whisper of doubt. Shopkeeper was as much his boss as her own. But if he did intend to keep even just a fraction of her secret...
“As long as it doesn’t interfere with my job, you won’t say anything? I have your word?” She asked, though it felt like an ultimatum.
“You have my word. Should I go back on it, you are welcome to take my wife as collateral.”
Even in her stupor, that stunned her. “Your...your wife?”
A small smile tugged at his lip. “You aren’t the only one with a family who became more than it should have, Mrs. Forger.”
Maybe it was the alcohol but that statement genuinely floored her.
The man chuckled, reaching over to tap her chin to shut her mouth. “Careful, you might catch flies. Now,” He gestured to the complex. “Go on. I can see the light of your living room is on still.”
She didn’t need further prodding, though nearly falling out of the car did prompt her to ask for help getting to her apartment.
McMahon glanced once more at the apartment window just as the light turned off and gave a faint smile. Mrs. Forger had asked if he wanted to stay for a bit of tea, but he had declined. He had to get home himself and get ready for work in the morning. After bidding her and her husband goodnight, he had left.
And as he looked up at the darkened apartment, he couldn’t help but feel that cold feeling fill his veins. He hadn’t lied to her and was confident she could get herself out of this blip in her performance. She had already done so much with only Yuri in her corner and he was sure that she would do even better with the Forgers behind her too.
She’ll do just fine. The elder assassin thought as he turned away and entered his vehicle. And if she needs a little hand here and there, I can always assist.
After turning the ignition, he pulled away.
It was time to go home.