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The Forger family left their homey Berlint apartment early on a weekend morning to travel south so they could enjoy a rare day at the beach. The sun was shining high in the sky, the ocean was glittering in the bright light, and a pleasant breeze blew up from the water: gentle mist hitting their faces with each crash of the waves. The sea air was salty and refreshing.
Little Anya was running and splashing in the shallow waves to her heart’s content in her pink swimsuit and hat. Yor and Loid could both hear her delighted squeals of laughter from where they sat together on a soft beach blanket, a big colorful umbrella was opened above them to protect them from the brunt of the sun’s rays. The sand was warm against their bare feet.
“She has so much energy,” Loid said, his eyes never straying from their daughter.
Yor giggled. “She sure does, Loid. Maybe the water and sun will tire her out and she’ll sleep on the way home.”
He let out what could only be described as a half-laugh-half-scoff. “I doubt it.”
Their light chatter turned into comfortable silence as they sat and watched their daughter play in the water and build sandcastles in front of them.
The picture-perfect family had been out for a number of hours now; the early morning had been a crisp one, a slight chill had been in the air, but as the hours passed and the sun rose higher in the sky it had gotten much warmer.
Yor wore a pair of soft blue linen shorts and a white airy top that flapped lightly in the salty breeze, a tan sun hat perched atop her head to shield her eyes. Loid was wearing more layers than she was because of the early morning weather. He was in khaki shorts with a navy-blue pullover quarter-zip long-sleeved sweater. Yor assumed he had a cooler t-shirt underneath it, pure white cotton peeked out from behind the open zipper of the shirt.
Loid looked up towards the sky, his hand pulling on the neck of his quarter-zip before blowing out a harsh breath.
He must be getting warm.
As if in response to Yor’s unspoken thought, he removed his beach hat from his head to rest beside him on the blanket before reaching his arms back to tug off the heavier shirt. As he pulled it up, the T-shirt underneath rode up with it too.
Yor watched Loid’s casual, unhurried movement and couldn’t help her eyes from being drawn to the expanse of bare back visible to her. She’d never seen this much of his skin before…
His bare legs in shorts like today at the beach or on days they play tennis together, sure. His bare arms when he rolls up the sleeves of one of his button ups after he gets home from the hospital or wears a short-sleeved shirt on a weekend, of course. Sometimes his collar bones would be visible on the rare occasion he wore a V-neck, but she’s never seen his back. Or any other part of him…
She couldn’t help but keep watching as his lean back muscles moved so fluidly, almost languidly as he moved. She knew her husband was strong—not as strong as her, she mused to herself with a tiny smile—and he certainly looked it. But before she could finally avert her eyes, she noticed multiple lines of white along Loid’s back.
Scars.
She gasped, a quick inhale between her teeth, her hands flew to her mouth to stifle it as best she could.
There were over a dozen of them. None were horribly long; each was about one to two inches it looked like. Some were thicker, some were thinner. By the looks of them they weren’t recent scars either, they had once been deep but clearly healed a while ago.
Loid finally got his sweater over his head and the crisp white T-shirt underneath fell into place covering his back and the scars again. He folded his heavy shirt and set it aside.
But Yor couldn’t tear her eyes away from where she knew the scars were hidden beneath the fabric.
Where had he gotten those?
Loid was a psychiatrist at a hospital, he wouldn’t be getting injuries that would scar him like that there.
Though, it is possible that some of his patients might get violent at times.
Yor would never forget that one of his patients tried to stab him in the back on the night of Camilla’s party. She had kicked that man away and protected Loid from the knife herself. She’d never forget the almost boyish grin Loid gave her or the jovial tone of his voice after she did that, either.
No, these scars are older, so definitely way before we met.
A thought struck her, then.
Could… could Loid have been in the military or something before he became a doctor?
Her husband had excellent combat skills, he was a skilled pilot and could fly anything—she’d been a passenger of his more than once—he was intelligent and vigilant and protective, all skills that could have been honed on the battlefield.
She suddenly remembered what Loid had told her after Yuri had visited their home for the first time—that he had no close family or friends except for dear, sweet Anya. And after their rather explosive trip to the bar together after his tennis tournament, he had mentioned his childhood as they sat together on that park bench: that bombs would be dropping outside his window while he rested in his mother’s arms at night.
He must have lost everyone during the war and joined the army after they were all gone…
Cracks fissured in Yor’s heart at the thought of her husband’s unknown past.
////
Twilight could sense Yor’s gaze on his back almost immediately. She was a stealthy woman, he’d never forget how she snuck up on him in the tailor shop the day they first met, but the sound of her surprise gave her away. His neck tensed when he heard her gasp, he knew he’d have to explain his scars away somehow. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her still looking, lost in thought it seemed.
He hadn’t wanted her to see them yet.
Yet?
Where had that thought come from?
I didn’t think she’d ever see them. My scars are clearly old combat wounds. I got most of them when I was in the army but a few of them are from my training days when I started at WISE.
They do look suspicious on the back of a psychiatrist like Loid Forger, he knew. For the sake of Operation Strix, he’d have to give her an explanation. Maybe he’d even tell her some semblance of the truth, Loid Forger being in the army before getting his doctorate wouldn’t be unheard of…
Plus, he’d already told her he used to fly airships part-time back when he was a student. He could make those stories tie in together.
Twilight was not ashamed of his scars, and he had more than the ones on his back. He would never be ashamed of what he’s done, for the wounds he’s endured for the sake of world peace.
A loud giggle from Anya pierced through the sea air and cut through his inner thoughts. She was so happy. She didn’t have a care in the world, and it showed on her face, it showed in the way she played.
Loid huffed a silent laugh. His scars are so children can keep laughing like that—So she can keep laughing like that while he and Yor peacefully, happily watch her as she does so.
But I know they’re not the nicest to look at either. Hopefully Yor doesn’t mind knowing that her husband has scars like that marring his back…
////
Yor saw Loid’s cheeks and the tips of his ears turn the lightest shade of pink and it wasn’t from the sun. He placed his hat back on his head and turned to her. He cleared his throat before he began to explain, “I didn’t mean for my tee shirt to ride up like that, Yor. Those scars are… They’re from… I—”
“Hey,” she interrupted him gently. He was not one to stutter, she could tell he didn’t want to tell her about them right now. “It’s okay, Loid. You don’t have to explain anything about them to me.” Yor remembered Loid’s own words to Anya after Bond had gotten a hold of her penguin plushie. When Loid had sewn it back up, he gave their daughter some reassuring words. “They’re medals of valor, right? Nothing to be ashamed of.”
She had a few medals like that herself: nicks and cuts over her years at Garden. He’d just never seen them. The biggest being the wound on her chest from the assassin with the katana during her assignment on the Princess Lorelei. Her scars were for Yuri. They always would be, and now they were also for Loid and Anya and Bond.
Loid looked taken aback by her words for a moment before the corners of his lips twitched up and a grin stretched over his handsome face. He visibly swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I can assure you that they’re old. I don’t get hurt like that anymore,” he told her before averting his cool blue eyes away from her crimson to glance back at Anya spinning in the water.
“Well, I’m certainly glad for that,” Yor said as she reached a hand over to set on top of his larger one where it rested between them on the soft beach blanket. He glanced back at her at the gesture. “Just… please be careful, Loid. I’d really like for you to always come home to me and Anya in one uninjured piece.” She gave him a warm smile.
Yor liked Loid so much, he was so wonderful, and she was reminded again how happy she was that she married him. She loved their life together as a family, of course she wanted him to come home healthy and happy each evening, and she mentally vowed to herself that he wouldn’t get any more scars like those old ones on her watch.
His face flashed with emotion; she could tell her words truly meant something to him. He returned her smile with a sheepish one of his own before looking down at her hand on his. He flipped his hand over under hers so he could thread his fingers through her own. It’s the first time he’s ever done that. He’s taken her hand before, yes, but never grasped her fingers like this. It was much more intimate and reassuring.
It felt right.
He blinked once and with pure, unbridled conviction in his voice he vowed to her, “I promise I always will, Yor.”
They remained in a reverent silence for a few more moments before Anya called to them excitedly. “Mama! Papa!” She waved wildly at them from the water. “Come play, please!”
Loid and Yor turned in unison toward their daughter. “Shall we?” Yor asked her husband, meeting his eyes again with a giggle.
“Yes, we shall.” Loid agreed and his eyes shone as they stood up, fingers still entwined, to run into the waves together to join Anya.