Chapter Text
As the TGV from Milan came to a stop on Track A of the Gare de Lyon, the usual human sea formed when the door opened quietly. Formed by the usual number of families coming or returning from a vacation, businessmen whose duties brought them from Italy to France, tourists eager to discover the Ville Lumière.
Nothing extraordinary. Not even the young man, looking just a bit over twenty, who, as soon as he disembarked from the high-speed train and made a few steps to allow his fellow travellers to get out as well, looked around in the venerable station, and breathed deeply. His eyes hidden by dark sunglasses, he gave a small pat to the front of his jacket, before grabbing his bag and moving towards the exit gates.
-
“Thank you for the tour, the house is every bit as much as I expected it.” he said, his eyes wandering around before settling on the landlord, a middle aged man whose satisfaction was as apparent as his eagerness and politeness.
“Of course. I'm a known man in the housing business, my reputation is pristine, as you may know!”
“Indeed. And I can see how justified it is. Now...” A hand disappeared in the backpack, and fished an envelope. “I believe this is the deposit we agreed upon. Please control that everything's in place, I'd hate for misunderstandings or mistakes to happen...”
Monsieur Pèronnet barely allowed him to finish the sentence, having quickly scanned the banknotes inside to his full satisfaction. “Oh, don't worry, don't worry, it's perfectly fine, absolutely! Everything's peachy! With this, I am sure our future business will be just as smooth and peaceful!”
Having settled that, the tenant politely waited for him to leave. The landlord, while getting the hint, stopped several times to thank him again and again, and to repeat his promises of service for anything he'd need (the exorbitant rent may have spurred him to do so a bit), but eventually he left.
After closing the door behind the jubilant businessman, the young man waited a good two minutes, then he slowly returned to the living room. With deliberation, he let gravity guide him to the sofa, with a satisfied grunt. He brought a hand to his head to remove his sunglasses, revealing a pair of grey eyes, which he proceeded to rub tiredly.
"Dunque , penso che sia abbastanza. Puoi venire fuori adesso, Tino!"
On cue, from his jacket a small being fluttered out, surrounded by a peculiar, unnatural light. A being whose vaguely humanoid shape wasn't particularly weird, but whose appearance may have been. A flying, talking toy soldier, as if come of an old child's book.
“So, he got the money and left? Are you sure he'll keep his nose away? I'd rather not have any surprises!” the creature sniffed.
His companion shrugged. “He is a busy man, after all. I checked, he's got dozens of apartments in Paris and in the country; and as long as you pay, he doesn't give any issues to his tenants. With the rent I give him he will bend over backwards not to cross us, it should be like one time and a half of what he could've expected.”
“Eh... whatever.”
“Come. We'll order some food delivery and take it easy, tonight. Then we'll get to work.”
Tino perked up. “Ooh, do you think we could get some Beef bourguignon? I've always wanted to taste that!”
That earned him an amused glance. “Man, have I spoiled you so much? In the army you have to make do with what you got!”
“Not my fault you drag me here in one of the gastronomical capitals of the whole world! You can't blame me for that, Angelo!” was the squawked protest. “Besides, I'm not sure how much we will be able to indulge ourselves, in the future...” Tino added quietly.
“In the future...” Angelo sighed, a faraway look in his eyes.
The tiny being hovered close to him, and touched his cheek.
“What do you think will happen? Will we find him?”
“Not much choice here. And it shouldn't be that hard, with our... ability.” Angelo commented, frowning a bit.
“What about after?”
An eyebrow was quirked.
“If you're asking me if I've got any... ahem, gut feeling, I've got to disappoint you. I just... I don't know, feel that things are going to change, one way or another.”
Tino's face was pensive.
“And about...”
“I can't decide yet. We can't decide yet.” Angelo interjected firmly. “We have enough on our plate already without being dragged in someone else's mess. Even one in which we arguably should have a part.”
He rose and went for his backpack. “Speaking of which, I'll set up my laptop, and I'll check that Ladyblog again, who knows...”
“Again?” Tino huffed. “You've went over the posts, like, a hundred times. What are you looking for?”
“What I am looking for,” was the collected answer, “may not be in any post, but between them.”
That caused the creature to grimace. “Ugh, Jedi crap again? I knew I should have said something when you got all those Star Wars comics!”
“Trust the Living Force, my friend. It is strong in me, after all!” said Angelo solemnly, but his face was clearly losing the struggle not to smirk.
And not for the last time, as playful insults started being thrown around once more, he wondered what he could've done without such a friend in all the time they had been together.
-
Even with the current threat of a superpowered terrorist unleashing Akumas on the city, despite grim predictions by experts that never seemed to be lacking over a tragedy, tourism in Paris hadn't take a huge hit. The numbers remained almost as high as the previous years, and tourists kept flocking giddily, unknowing or uncaring of the dangers.
With no less than eighteen millions of them wandering the city throughout the year, it was easy for Angelo to disappear in the crowd, even though his tour didn't exactly bring him to the usual tourist traps or main attractions.
Well, save for one. He had climbed on the Eiffel Tower, and had spent a good deal of time scrutinizing Paris from that vantage point, ignoring the yells squeals and comments of all the people occupying the observation deck. Even though a particularly loud and obnoxious Roman tourist made it very hard.
After that stop, he just began to walk.
And walk.
And walk.
One arrondissement after the other.
Tino kept repeating (quietly, when he let him out or from the recesses of the pocket) that, with the sunglasses on and the stony way he set his jaw, Angelo only needed a trench coat or something and he would be the protagonist of a B-rated spy movie.
Angelo told him he ought to shut up. Then, after a few moments, he laughed heartily.
To the first day, followed others, with the same schedule.
Wake up, eat something at a café (as an Italian, Angelo was kind of loathe to admit it, but there was something about French croissants that made their buttery deliciousness perfect for breakfast, even though he often wished for some good, strong Italian-style coffee), start walking, stop to eat something around noon more or less, keep walking, then go home, make dinner, and then waste time on the web before going to sleep.
He didn't mind. He was used to it, and got a strange kind of comfort in the sequel of boring, uneventful days.
He was also grateful, as he told Tino one evening, that no accidents had happened, meaning that Papillion hadn't showed up with his Akumas. That was a complication he wished to avoid, at least for the moment.
The Kwami looked pensive, then looked at him and told him he was probably right. But the reserves in his tone were evident. Not a problem; it would've been thoroughly worrying had they always agreed on everything, even after all that time.
And, of course, it was only a matter of time before the routine got interrupted.
As predicted, it happened suddenly.
Angelo got the jolt, deep within his being, that almost made him lose his step. He came to a stop (not all of a sudden, he'd rather not fall flat on his nose), and tapped his Bluetooth. A handy device for someone wishing to hide the fact that he was talking to the tiny divine being hidden in his pocket.
"Beh, direi che ci siamo."
Tino didn't answer at first; he was holding his breath. Did Kwami breathe, by the way?
“I felt it clearly. This is it, no doubt!”
His voice held no mystery for his companion. “Scared? Do you wish to come another day?”
“No! It's... it's high time we did this. We talked about this, Angelo; no afterthoughts. Time to charge into battle!”
The Italian chuckled, but without much enthusiasm or joy. “I guess you're right.”
He looked up to the building. His hand went to the sunglasses to allow him a better peek.
“Here we go. Let's see what the future has in store for us!”
And he strode towards the entrance.
-
Of course, both men had understood who they were facing the moment Angelo entered the massage parlor.
Wang Fu had merely invited him to the back of the store, where they could talk without being disturbed.
"What does your Kwami like?"
Angelo winced as if he were accused, even though the question was anything but. Was it the tension? Fear, perhaps?
Clearing his throat, he replied: "Actually, he is kind of eclectic in his tastes, and doesn't have particular likes or dislikes."
"Then I hope this tea and these sweets are likable enough for him" said the last of the Guardians, as he put the cups and the plate down the table.
As if ordered to show up, Tino floated out of the pocket; and then he gulped.
Angelo resisted the urge to snort. The Kwami had never, never showed nervousness before anything or anyone; at most, irritation or frustration.
The tiny godlike being bowed respectfully, and his voice came humbler than he had ever heard: "Greetings, Guardian. My name is Tino."
Fu answered in the same manner, although more heartily. "A pleasure to know you, Tino. Please, help yourself."
This was all the encouragement the little soldier needed to giddily fling himself into the sweets, his nervousness all but forgotten.
Until a pair of disapproving eyes, coming from a tiny turtle floating near the plate, met his.
"I am Wayzz, the Kwami of Protection and companion of Master Fu." The creature's tone was decidedly colder than that of his master. "And I do feel you are an issue."
Ouch.
Angelo saw Tino flinch, and for a moment awaited an explosion.
But his companion merely dropped his head a bit.
"I... may be, I know. But the circumstances of my being here... in this world... were beyond my choosing and beyond my power to change."
This earned a reaction from both hosts: Fu's expression, from absently benign, became inquisitive, with a touch of sadness, while Wayzz's disapproval went down a notch. Or even two.
Angelo wished to say something, he opened his mouth to do so, but he found nothing to say. Tino wasn't the only one who was feeling more nervous than before in his life.
Fu looked at him and let out a sigh. "I'm afraid this is going to be both complicated and painful, for both of you. But if answers are what you seek, I believe that having you tell me the circumstances of your... bond," nobody in the room missed the slight hesitation, "would be most beneficial."
"Of course," the Italian said, hesitatingly, "even though you're right. This will be painful."
Of course it would be. But, prepared or not, it was what was necessary.
So, he told the old master everything.
-
As much as he struggled to keep the tale devoid of any emotion and any unnecessary details, Angelo wondered how much time he had taken up when he finished.
Fu hadn't showed any sign of distress or tiredness as he absorbed everything he told.
The only movement had been, other than his own, by Tino, who had closed in whenever he knew he was about to talk about something particularly painful.
And more than anything else, the precise moment they had been joined together; their existence bonding in a way they didn't understand.
Only when Angelo stopped talking, did Master Fu stir. But he didn't speak for a good few minutes.
"What you went through is... something I never thought would be possible to survive unscathed. The fact that you are of sound mind and haven't taken up any.... questionable behavior is admirable."
The Italian chuckled at that. "How can you be sure I told you everything? How do you know I didn't 'forget' some episodes of my life?"
The Guardian's eyes were full with empathy and pity. "Other than such behavior would be illogical on your part, as you wish for my help, I am quite positive you disclosed everything you did... or didn't do."
Guilty.
"Heh... I guess, when you got a long life, you get many chances to sit and wonder what could've been done differently."
At this Fu gave a sad smile for both his guest and himself. "A past time I have indulged in myself, I confess."
Some more tea helped with the dry throat he had gotten; but did little with the knot he realized was now in his chest.
Angelo opted to follow the Guardian's example and cut to the chase. He breathed as he put down the cup.
"Forgive me, but... I have told you everything about how this situation came to be and all the subsequent effects. So, are you able to... intervene?" There was no point in hiding whatever emotion found its way into his question.
Fu's eyes became a special kind of sad, and he got his answer before the elder even spoke back.
"I am really sorry. Your situation is something that even the Order of Guardians, made whole again, wouldn't be able to correct; it is unique, after all. Back in the day, they would have started looking for a solution, and perhaps in a matter of... decades they might have found it. But I am unable to do so. Any intervention in my part would only further destabilize your power, likely end your life and... result in huge collateral damage."
Angelo didn't react to the answer, except for the last part. The alarm, horror and pain in his eyes were unmistakeable.
"I... I think I caused enough collateral damage for a lifetime!" he choked.
The Guardian rose and, circling the table, went to put a hand on his shoulder. "I am truly sorry. I wish I were able to help you as you desire. Unfortunately, whatever happened all these years ago is something incredibly powerful. It's terrible that its first manifestation was such a tragedy."
To escape the feelings that were becoming to overcome him, Angelo reacted as he usually did: he shielded himself with sarcasm.
"Want the name and number of the guy in charge? Might want to tell him a few choice words, if you can reach him beyond death!"
Wayzz, who had listened in without making a peek, floated up to his face. He wondered how much broken he was if the pity apparent on the Kwami didn't anger him; weren't hurt people supposed to lash out at pity?
"While your condition cannot be resolved once and for all, I am sure Master Fu can prepare something to at least reduce the symptoms, and alleviate your pain a bit, for both of you."
"That I can do, in fact." agreed the old man. "Give me a few minutes, and I will be able to concoct something that will make your... physical pain more bearable."
Angelo made a noncommittal sound. "Eh. You know, it's curious. The pain, I mean. When it's such a close companion, meeting it so often, you end up finding it familiar, but you never get accostumed completely." He paused, looking into his half-drunk cup. "I appreciate your effort. I believe I already knew the answer before I set foot here, anyway."
"I truly wish I could at least give you some hope. But your situation is truly something I never even thought possible. It would be fascinating, if it hadn't cost you so much already." the Guardian declared. "Never would I have considered that a botched Miraculous creation could create a bond a thousand times stronger than what is the case with the others. And that it would create such an.... unnatural symbiotic relationship between its magic and your life force. On one hand, your life force serves as its direct tether to this world, to the point of discharging into you, into your spirit, any and all fluctuations in power. On the other, the power it injects into your life force has boosted it to unprecedented levels. If I were to make an educated guess, I think that as a conservative estimate, it would be enough to sustain you for a hundred of the normal lifetimes a human being can hope for on this Earth."
Nothing unknown, again. But to be told in plain words was a knife in the heart of his hopes.
Angelo looked up, only to find Fu gone, likely to prepare the concoction he had been promised. Sighing, he brought the cup to his lips to down it.
Wayzz spoke again; but this time, he spoke to Tino.
"I am sorry."
The tiny being blinked. "For what? I get your point, I am an issue. I thought you'd call me worse, I was thinking you and the Guardian might call me even worse... an abomination, a walking heresy..."
The Turtle Kwami interrupted him again. "Things may have been different had the Order not been destroyed, years ago, I admit it. But now there's little point in holding on to dogmas that cannot be enforced anymore. Also, it took me a long time, but I saw that both of you," and he looked up to Angelo, "have not abused the power so uniquely gained, and are in a pain that I cannot even imagine, myself. No old beliefs should stand in the way of helping those who suffer."
"Isn't this your role, though?" the Italian interjected. "Tino has... well, his knowledge is... innate, I guess, that's why he knew of the Guardians and of the other Kwamis, vaguely. But he does know enough to tell me that the Kwami of Protection stands to protect, to defend. That does not only mean defending against physical threat, but also to protect against deviations and missteps that, little by little, could have a huge impact in the Miraculous. Your reaction is appropriate, in this context."
"You are quite insightful, my young friend. Yes, Wayzz stands to protect against all you have spoken about. However, as it is the case with all things, to one side there is always another. Sometimes, to protect and to defend, we end up refusing changes to the status quo, refuse to see the wheels of time that change things up irrevocably. Inertia and conservatism: this is the greatest danger for the Turtle Kwami, and those who wield it." Master Fu said, coming back in, a silk bag in his hands.
He placed it before Angelo, who gratefully took it with a slight bow.
"Once more, I say I am truly sorry to be unable to help you further. But if the cause of your pain and issues is beyond my help, rest assured that if you need counsel, advice or merely someone to talk to, you will be always welcome here."
"Thank you, Master." the Italian answered, and then found himself adding: "Although..."
The Guardian tilted his head, slightly, encouraging him to talk.
Hesitatingly, the young man asked: "Aren't you going to ask for our help? You know, in the whole Paris situation?" He gestured behind his back. "I have followed things up. In fact, when I heard of this I got one of those gut feelings I told you about that urged me to come here. I know how things stand. You know our limitations, but we would be able to do something. Why haven't you requested it?"
Papillion.
The Master nodded pensively, without breaking eye contact.
"I... considered that, but I decided against it." Seeing Angelo's confusion, he added: "I feel that, whatever may happen, it ought to do so of your own volition. I have no doubt that you would provide your help if I did ask for it. But for some reason, my... wisdom tells me that your path must be your own. If you are to join in the effort against Papillion, it must be your own decision."
His eyes wandered away from the Italian's, and his voice took on an almost prophetic tone that caused shivers.
"Roles, you mentioned. While it is comforting to know exactly where one stands, it can also be limiting to one's abilities and possibilities. And, for all the hardships you faced, for all the pain you went through, I sense that your fate rests in your hands more than any other man I've met. We all have our choices, we all make our destiny. But few have so much power over it than you. I feel it clearly. That is why I will not take the decision for you. If you are to intervene, it will be for your own motives, out of your own volition."
Angelo was reduced to dying fish mode, mouth wide open. He glanced at Tino, and saw a tiny reflection of himself.
"That's... scary". he muttered
"It is." Fu said gravely. "As always, what can be a blessing can turn out to be a curse, and vice-versa. But it is how it is."
"We take what is given." That got a smirk from Tino. Well, who said wisdom couldn't come from comic books?
The Guardian nodded. "Indeed. And I can assure you, I trust you will not abuse this opportunity, as much as you haven't abused your powers so far."
A numb nod was all that Angelo could muster; he was feeling a bit overwhelmed.
Fu's kind smile told him he had noticed as well. "I believe that is quite enough, for today."
"Yeah... sorry..." the Italian apologized, standing up and wobbling slightly.
"No apologies needed. You did a brave thing today, telling me everything to ask for my help. I wish I'd been able to help more decisively, but I am most relieved that the strange feeling I had a few days ago turned out not to be a menace."
That shook him out of his daze. A glance was enough to confirm his suspicion: had he been a threat... well, he wouldn't have remained in Paris for long. Or maybe even in this world.
Patting the youngster on the arm, the Guardian walked him to the door.
"Go home and rest now, I can imagine how stressful it must have been for you. See what the future brings you."
"The future..." Angelo repeated, and his mind wandered.
For so long, 'future' was a meaningless word, for someone who was condemned to see the world change around him, as if he were in a glass prison.
'Future' was something that he could ignore, if not to rue the fact that he had been deprived of one.
But after today...?
Angelo jumped up a bit in surprise, when he realized that, for the first time in years, he was looking forward for... something. He was awaiting for what would happen; in a day, in a week, in a month, who knew. But that didn't matter.
He was excited. And equally scared. Both emotions he hadn't felt in a very long time.
One way or another, things will change, he recalled dumbly.
"Madre Vergine santa!" he cursed under his breath. Or was it a prayer?