My Home, My Family, My Duty, My Doom (Spy X Family) (MATURE!!)

Not For You

Seventeen minutes past eleven... and Loid realized with a start that his expensive, custom-made wrist watch had a considerable crack in its crystal. Shaking his sleeve down over the broken gadget, he concluded that it had to have happened during that one adventurous tumble he'd taken, smashing his arm against the concrete pillar rather painfully. Though not in the least important in the grand scheme of things - the Westalia Intelligence Services' Eastern-Focused Division endowed him generously with everything he needed to make his job easier - the crack was a sobering reminder that by a hairbreadth, tonight's mission would have gone awry. Depending on luck to make it out alive wasn't his style.

Gripping his slipping briefcase a bit tighter in his gloved left hand, he continued to pull himself up step by step with his right. Given the advanced time, the light in the staircase was low, which suited him just fine: Twilight was his name - and twilight hid his shame. Ha, Loid thought wryly, gripping the banister even harder because he didn't want to experience the humiliation of falling backwards anytime soon, bad rhymes? He had to be in worse shape than he had been ready to admit to himself.

Three more flights of stairs. Steps: approximately thirty. Assessment of task: doable.

Too bad his legs were shaking to a degree that made standing upright a challenge and climbing up to his apartment an act of self-inflicted torture. His arms were numb with exhaustion, the pain lacing through him from the soles of his feet up to the top of his head making him tremble at irregular intervals. A less determined man might simply have collapsed on the steps, for an inhabitant of the house to find in the morning, dead or alive.

Which wasn't an option for a world class spy like him: He had once vowed he would always make it back to his own bed. Good for him he got a grip on himself before an even more pathetic thought could fully manifest in his addled brain. It went in the direction of dying in a dignified manner among friends, not enemies - among loved ones, to be more precise. Haha, Loid, you're in a jokester mood tonight, are you not? He may be hurt and in pain, but he wasn't close to dying and he couldn't allow himself any more sappy, self-indulgent, and selfish notions - it was bad enough as it was.

The simple truth: Though he had told Yor he'd be late tonight, he had not told Yor he would be home this late and as a result, he had not been able to stop fretting about what Anya and Yor would eat for dinner throughout his entire mission.

Which, he had that much analytical capacity for self-assessment left, was why he had performed so abysmally bad tonight. Which, considering what was at stake if he failed even just once, was a big, big problem. Which, considering just how big it was, he didn't worry about nearly enough yet, Loid concluded. Note to self: Tomorrow, after a bit of rest, he'd think systematically about how to get his cool back, how to detach himself from the emotions that had started to muddy his normally razor-sharp mind. Just like the toxic gas he had inhaled because he had been too preoccupied with worrying about Yor and Anya's dinner to notice it in time. World-class? Yes, but not immune to stupidity.

Somehow, Loid made it to his door without disgracing himself. He even managed to extract the house key from his pocket and unlock the door. Before pushing it open, he sniffed at himself, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Given how gullible Yor had been so far, he thought he should be able to convince her that the biting, unpleasant smell that clung to his very being was due to a chemical he had experimented with at the hospital today and not poisonous fumes designed to kill intruders into a high level military R&D facility.

Loid made it inside, closed the door behind himself and managed to hang up his hat in its proper place before he fell flat on his face.

The suddenness of his collapse stunned him. His inability to get up afterwards even more. Up, Twilight, up! he commanded himself, but found his resolve to try harder growing weaker by the second. He was back home, he was lying down. Would it not suffice? The carpet smelled a bit funny but it was softer than the bare floor. He had slept on far worse.